"The prettiest in crowd that you had ever seen
Ribbons in our hair and our eyes gleamed mean
A freshmen generation of degenerate beauty queens
And you know something?
They were the only friends I ever had
We got into trouble and when stuff got bad
I...
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you take yourself, that's not a lie
It's true what they say, you can't get away from yourself by moving from one place to another.
Antionette Mazzati knows this better than most. She's drug herself from New York to New Jersey, to San Francisco, to Kokomo, Boston, Gas City, Chicago, Miami, Las Vegas, Tulsa, Florence, Naples, Milan, and now here she is, admiring the smooth movements of the movers her father has hired as they work in sync like a colony of bees to furnish her new house.
Of course it is only a house, not a home. She never finds a home in any physical place, not even New York. The closest thing she's ever had to a home is Lucca, and once again she finds herself left without him. It's not like she isn't used to it. Lucca has bigger problems than her being bored or lonely, and it's not his fault her dads a dick.
Point Place is just one of those towns that leaves her that way, feeling... distant. It's a small enough town that her father didn't think it warranted her usual security detail. Antionette doesn't do well alone, she's not used to it. At least in the cities when she's alone, there's still the sound of people living their busy lives surrounding her. In towns like Point Place the peaceful quiet of the suburbs is almost unbearable.
She'll have to get used to it though. She can't depend on others for her sanity, she knows that. It's not like she'd feel much better in a full house anyway. The only thing that would change is that the time she spends lying awake at night would be spent wondering if there was a traitor sleeping under her roof rather than wondering if she'd hear an intruder breaking in.
The sun is starting to set by the time the movers have cleared, a warm orange color producing a calming light over the neighborhood.
Antionette ordered take out from the only Chinese restaurant she could find in the phone book. Clad in her shortest shorts, Luccas old Led Zeppelin tee shirt that's three times her size, and her high-top converse that were white when she bought them.
In better cities she'd never leave her house without taking at least an hour to make herself presentable, but she's decided in Point Place she'll be the kind of girl who wears tee shirts to get take out.
She'll be the kind of girl these people see as successful yet humble. These aren't the kind of people who admire a seventeen year old girl for wearing designer every time she steps outside. They'd see her as snobby, probably even say she's dressed like a slut, start reciting Hail Marys under their breath.
She's almost made it into her car that's parked along the side of the street. She's reaching for the handle of her red Pontiac Firebird when something catches her attention.
