when the wind cries

This is for the best

Part I

Staring down the red brick face of her school and isolated in the rear parking lot, Zo wondered if she had some sort of untapped mind power where she could blow objects up. Maybe create an earthquake, just to feel the tectonic plates roaming beneath her feet. Maybe set something ablaze? Carrie style.

All she needed now was a pink dress and a crazed mother.

Hell, she would take a Mère in any shape, form or fashion these days. Would be better than none at all, true.

The material of the steering wheel made a suffocated noise as she tightened her fist and squinted through the windshield. One more year; this was it. The beginning of the end of the worst years of her life. After she received her diploma she could escape. From the teasing of her classmates and locals. From the nightmares and that damn water spirit that liked to leave a puddle in her shoes at the front door every night because she refused to acknowledge him.

To say that she was cursed would be a stretch, you have to be more familiar with curses and a hex that to credit her, eh-hem talents to a better source. Her Nanan would simply pat her on the hand and crone to her in the familiar raspy accent that she was just like her father. Too selfless to think of it than anything other than a burden for others. At the thought of her tawny headed late father, Zo jerked the keys from the ignition and buried the feelings in the rippling water at the back of her mind.

Other students had begun to arrive, filling the remainder of the front parking lot and others joining her in the gravel portion; her older truck surrounded by the lap of luxury brand new "daddy's money" BMW's and lifted trucks.

Her job at a shop in town didn't provide nearly enough money to afford to a car payment, much less a down payment, so for the last few years she had been carefully driving her dad's 1970's Ford Highboy. It was a two tone swamp brown and tan truck, taller than some of the newer aluminum chassis in the parking lot but to her, it was a priceless possession. The last remnant that she could hold and cherish. During the open alligator season, she spends a entire paycheck on her license and 10 tags for the month, bringing in a little bit extra income and cushion for her funds.

Leaning across the bench seat with a grunt she moved to gather her heavy bag and gave a withering sigh when the zipper busted and her books spilled out. Seriously?

After shuffling around and dragging her book bag onto the seat she moved her eyes skyward into her head and spoke aloud.

"I'm gone make it through the day, me. Then the ---"

A hand pounds on her window accompanied by a shrill voice breaking as a reprieve.

"OY! Don't be castin' no crazy spells in there you crazy fcking cajun!" She turns at the sound of male laughter and spies some of the baseball team standing between her truck and one of their own, a newer GMC supplied with the cheesy chrome and typical duck hunting sticker outlined by their home state. There are 4 of them standing there, busting a gut at her terrified expression and it sours her stomach even more.

Before they can move, she jerks the door open and nails one in the chest, crumpling him between the shiny truck and her own. Neal's grunt of pain sends a wave of satisfaction across her shoulders as she drops down from the interior of the truck. 

"Stop being coo-yon!" She uses her bag to push through the group of them and feels a hand swat at her backside with a playful yell. "The craziest ones always got the nicest ass!" A bark of laughter and her shoulders hitch up in anger. "I'd be happy to show you a good time bebe. "