Chapter 9

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 At night I dream. There's a gray steeped stairs and I am climbing up, up, up and at every turn the steps become steeper and steeper. Where am I running to? I have no idea. But I still kep going, my heart pumping in my chest and there is a door and when I push it open there are words. And there's a scream. I am falling, falling ,falling the screaming increases. It's in my body. It's vibrating off me and below the stocks f demons stand in unmarked black mass to rip into me.

Mom drives me to school but I tell her to drop a block ahead in front of a candy store. "It's better if I walk from here."

Mom frowns at me but still kills the engine turning to me. "Your school's still five minutes away."

"I know," I say opening the car door on my side. "Walking is anonymous. At school everybody recognizes your car." Cars are your trademark. You are rich you will have nice little Porsche or whatever other fancy cars. You are mid to no-one you'll either have a beat up Honda or a pickup Truck or maybe your mom's girly car. (it's usually all red and yellow and pink)

I bought a new black hoodie yesterday, just for the purpose of blending in. I am drawing inspiration from ninja if only I could learn some of their ninja skills, like using a smoke bomb for distraction, but that will only end up with me getting suspended. And more attention.

"Maybe I could change my car too," mom says sarcastically. I wave at her, putting the hoodie over my head and begin to walk away, looking behind me to see if mom is trying to follow me. She switches the indicator but stays put watching me disappear around a corner.

It's a bit less foggy today. The sun gives a sleepy yawn and shines mellow and an occasional car passes by. They are all wearing winter chains. Mom has not put on the chains yet, she probably forgot again. The only thing she does not forget is me, my homework, my medical appointments. My mom lives, breathes me now. She has even stopped teaching dance to the students, the one thing she used to love. I heave out a sigh and then pull out my phone to send a text to mom.

Me: Pick up the winter chains from the garage on the way home. Tell them to put them on

Then on second thought I send her a smiley ( Sunny side up. It's easier to do without actually smiling. Smiling drains all your inner energy so I try not to smile very often.

My face is freezing by the time I get to school but thankfully my job is done. Nobody has noticed me. They are floating in their own world. And they seem to have forgotten about the video. Now the sophomore girls who pass me by are talking and giggling about the breakup of Brad Hampton and Trisha Beckley and how one of their friends, I don't catch her name but I think she' called Honeymoon, has a chance with Brad. Cute Brad, they say.

Awesome Novahk McAllister. Pretty Trisha Beckley.

Walking disaster. Kris Covalho.

I had taken all my book with me for the weekend, so I don't even have to stop at the locker to get my Calc book. Our school is divided into three section, the administrative where the lockers homerooms, and cafeteria are. On the left wing are where all the Science classes are held and the right wing where all the Arts class are.

As I walk out of the homeroom, I find myself instinctively looking for the curly mess of hair and tall boy with a wide smile. He's bound to be where the crowd is, they usually follow him but I can't see him anywhere. I feel almost disappointed and then chastise myself for feeling that way.

In Calc class Mr Hudgens teaches us to differentiate an integral. "You'll get this in physics. So pay attention to the class," he says but he might as well as be talking to bricks.

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