Laurel Love was at a standstill in her life. It was like she was stuck doing things that didn't matter. Nothing had meaning in her life anymore. Laurel wanted her luck to change. What she didn't know was that something was going to change her life i...
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Music blasts in my ears as I stare down at my math homework. Nothing is going on in my mind right now, which is a bad thing. My math homework is due Monday morning, and it's currently Saturday. I've had this homework assignment since Wednesday and so far, I have nothing completed. Every time I try to start it, I get distracted by Henry texting me or Vera crying or my friends (all besides Jenny, of course) calling me to tell me about whatever is going on in their lives.
My eyes flicker over to my phone, and I sigh when I don't see any texts or missed calls. The only thing that's on my home screen is the song I'm listening to. I really want someone to distract me because I despise math, but no one needs me right now. Slumping against my math book in front of me, the bright sun beats down on the back of my neck, sending prickles of goosebumps up and down my arms. There's a slight chill in the air here in the park, but the sun makes up for it. Thankfully, the storm that was coming in a few days ago blew away in the breeze, so it hasn't flooded like I thought it would.
I really thought that I'd be able to do homework before Henry meets me here at the park. That was my whole plan, but now, I'm not so sure. I can't focus. Ever since I learned about Henry's secret, it's like I can't focus on anything besides his secret. Plus, when we met up in the library a few days ago, he moved way too fast for a regular human when he stopped me from leaving. I'm not sure what that was all about, but surprisingly, I want to know more about it. I still have so many questions for him that he needs to answer.
Sitting back up, I turn my phone back on. It's nearing time for Henry to meet up with me so we can continue working on his Kid Danger account. I shift the way I'm sitting so that I'm sitting of my sneakered feet. The hard wood from the picnic table digs into my ankles, but I don't bother with the pain. I slam my math book closed, keeping my blank papers in there. Shoving them in my backpack, I let out another sigh. I'll just have to do my math homework tomorrow.
I glance out at the park scene in front of me, watching as a small child runs from his friends. They are all screaming, their voices bouncing around the area and overpowering my music in my ears. The green grass is trampled beneath their tiny feet. Sometimes, I wish life is as simple as playing with your childhood best friends. I can see myself at their age, chasing Jenny and my other friends around my backyard at home. Our ghostly screams mingle with the screams from the children here at the park, and I wonder when things have turned sour for me.
Everything seemed so simple then, but that's because it was. Things aren't supposed to be hard when you are a child, and my parents made sure that things weren't bad for me. They couldn't shelter my sisters or me from everything, like when Fiona came home from school with a bloody lip. She was only five, which means I was eight, and Molly was ten. Someone threw a book at Fiona. At the time, I didn't know why, but Fiona later told me that it was because she was eating a Chinese dish at lunch, which was considered weird by that kid. To say me and Molly were mad would be an understatement.
The sun disappears behind a cloud, a shadow falling over me, just like that day in the park with Vera. I snap back to reality, and I realize that my fingers are trying to dig holes in the wooden table. I quickly release the table, the tips of my fingers an angry red. Dropping my hands to my sides, I take a deep breath, pushing the anger back into the faucet from which it came from. I need a better handle on my emotions.
