I am not insane

Prologue

Calico

I couldn't believe it.

I was sitting on a cold, hard bench in a jail cell.

How did I end up here? Fear and confusion engulfed me.

I had been walking home, minding my own business, when I stumbled upon a man spray-painting profanities on the side of a building. I wasn't sure how to react, so I just raised an eyebrow at him. He smiled, showing off his yellow teeth, and asked me if I thought it was beautiful.

I told him it was interesting.

It was then that I saw a police car approaching. The man quickly turned to me, handed me his spray paint can, and asked me to hold it.

I was confused but didn't want to make a scene, so I took it from him. But before I knew it, the man grabbed his bag and ran off, leaving me there holding the evidence.

The police officer arrived and assumed I was the culprit. I tried to explain that I was innocent and was just holding the can for the man, but he refused to listen. He laughed in my face and threw me in the back of his car, muttering something about stupid teens, and taking me straight to the slammer.

Now, I was sitting on a bench in a cold, dark cell, wondering what would happen next.

My parents would definitely not help me out. They don't particularly dislike me, but they are too busy doing drugs and drinking—like many people from my side of the neighbourhood— to care about me.

While I was thinking about what to do next, I heard screaming outside my cell.

"He started it!"

It sounded like a girl, probably around my age.

And that's when I saw her. She was so beautiful. She had dark brown curls down to her shoulders and hazel- but mostly green eyes- her skin was brown- a pale brown. Her hair was messy and ruffled, and she was fighting the cops restraining her. I recognized her from somewhere...

We made eye contact, and I felt myself turn red. She looked stunned for a moment.

The cops threw her in my cell and quickly closed the door behind her as she ran towards the cell door and started shaking the bars.

"Come on!"

After a few minutes, she calmed down and gave up.

She sat down beside me and sighed.

She turned to me and looked at me curiously for a second, then smiled.

"What's your name?" She asked me, turning all of her body in my direction.

"I- uhm, I'm Calico," I said, nervous and curious to know what she had done to get in here.

"I'm Courtney. Courtney-Linette Sinclair. Court-Lin."

"Wow, nice name." I was smiling back at this point. Something about her was just so... charming.

"I know you," She said, sitting up straighter. "You go to my school, don't you?"

My school is very prestigious. They only accept the richest. I got a scholarship, of course. I study really hard to make sure my grades are top-notch. It's the only way I am guaranteed to have a promising future. One glance at Court-Lin's clothes tells me she didn't get in because of her grades. She was wearing designer. Her parents are definitely wealthy. All the people in my school— rich country club people who always wear designer clothes are the meanest. I was surprised that she remembered me; I'm a nobody. But I am shocked at how I have never noticed her.

It's like she could read my mind because she said, "I know. I'm dressed like... One of those. But my parents are classy prats who refuse to buy me anything other than designer clothes. Trust me, I hate it."

I laughed, with no humour in my laugh.

"Why on earth would someone hate designer clothes?"

She laughed, too. "I guess it's because... designer has no... unique aspect to it. It's all the same. Classy and posh. But I want my own unique style. I want to go to a thrift store and just pick out random clothes I think are cute and still look unique. Do you get it...?"

I pause and press my lips together. "No, not really."

We both burst out laughing.

"Why are you in?" She asks me.

I tell her my whole story, and by the end of it, she cannot contain her laughter.

"What on earth were you thinking!?"

"That the nice man just needed help holding his spray can so he could reach into his bag and grab a sponge and soap to clean his mess?"

Court-Lin smiled at me in a way nobody ever has before. It felt like I'd known her forever.

"And what are you in for, Ms Sinclair?"
Court-Lin clears her throat. "'Harassment"

"What did you do, Court-Lin...?"

She said it in the simplest way possible.

"Okay, so this dimwit bumps into me at the bar while I'm holding a drink, right? So I'm like, 'What the hell dude!?! Watch where you're going!' he's like, 'You bumped into me,' but I didn't! So I go, 'You have to buy me a new drink,' and he's like, 'Hell no. I can punch your face in." And I get mad. So I say, "You know what I can punch in?" And I punch his stomach!"

Court-Lin bursts out laughing, and I join in.

Hours pass, and I'm wondering whether Court-Lin's parents are coming to collect her.

"Court-Lin, are your parents coming?" I ask her.

"Meh. Probably. They won't leave me here. They'll just bail me out and ground me for months."

"Oh."

"What about your old folks?"

"They don't..." I hesitate. Nobody knows this. But I look into Court-Lin's eyes, and something about them tells me I can trust her. "They don't care about me. They are too busy doing drugs and stuff."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

She doesn't pry. I like that about her.

We sit in silence. But it's not an awkward silence. It's comfortable silence. I don't feel awkward with her.

"Courtney-Linette Sinclair!" I hear a shrill voice say at that moment.

"The devil is here," Court-Lin says in a low, scary voice.

I see a tall woman with hazel eyes— exactly like Court-Lin's— and blonde hair. She is in her 40s. She is wearing white eyeliner and gold stud earrings, with an officer accompanying her.

"Hi, Mom," Court-Lin says with a devilish smile.

The officer unlocks the jail cell, but Court-Lin stays put.

"Let's go, Courtney."

"One condition."

"I am not doing this with you."

"I'm not leaving."

The woman, Court-Lin's mom, grits her teeth.

"What?"

"You have to bail Cal out, too." She nods her head at me.

I am probably so red right now. Court-Lin's mom looks at me, disgusted.

"No."

"Mom. You know how this goes."

They bicker for about 10 minutes until, finally, "FINE!"

After we got out, Court-Lin quickly gave me her number before her mother dragged her away.

We've been close friends ever since.