Twisted (Editing)

Chapter 2 (Edited)

    ｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

There was nothing in the world that could make me nervous about a crop of new faces, not anymore. I'd been in so many schools: public, private, charter. I had rehearsed smiles and been generally well-liked everywhere, and if not, I had floated through knowing that I would be released. The same applied here: this was my last year of high school. Even if no one liked me, a school year was just a short thing. Then I could move anywhere in the world for school; anywhere that would take me, at least.

"Are you ready?" Mom came into my room and stood beside my desk, where I sat rubbing moisturizer into my skin.

"Almost."

"Are you excited?"

"Not at all." I tapped a tinted cream under my eyes. "I think I'll get into the same things as before. Track. Choir."

"Choir? You haven't done that since you were a freshman."

"I needed another music credit. Apparently, Evansville Academy requires two to graduate."

I'd been in private schools before, and they ranged from pompous to obnoxiously modern to a nice mix of both. They could be good, but that wasn't the feeling I got from Evansville Academy. For one, it had the town's name within its own, which was never good. Two, there was no public equivalent. So technically, I guess Evansville was a public school, with the exception that we all had to wear uniforms⁠⁠—a red plaid skirt and a black blazer for girls. And no, when I asked, there was no pants option.

They have to be Mormons.

"Oo, look at my baby," my mom whistled. "You're going to cause fights."

"No, Mom."

"Who's going to cause fights?" Dad drifted by with his toothbrush in his mouth. "Not my studious daughter who will be focusing on her studies. Diligently focusing on her studies."

"Mom's not serious." I stood up and grabbed my backpack from the floor. "Never mind her."

Mom laughed and reached for me. She kissed the top of my forehead, and her warmth eked into me. She smelled like cocoa butter, honey, and warm cinnamon. I could be wrapped up in her arms all day, drifting from wake to sleep to dream without ever noticing a time change. She smoothed down my braids.

"Be good," she said.

"Of course."

I left to join the several kids walking down the street in twos and threes. They laughed loud enough to let the whole world hear their conversations. They slapped each other and gripped each other's arms if one joke especially overtook them. Their giggles spilled out from across the street, though their circle grew tighter for the whispers to be heard.

In all my life, I'd never been in a friendship like that. I hadn't been around long enough for friendships like that. It was better, and easier, to pass through a place and leave no trace, rather than worry about all the friends I leave behind. And sure, here and there I've picked up people. We text and call. But we can't walk around like that, arms and arms, skipping and popping gum, making each other playlists, and swapping shirts for whatever party was happening on the weekend.

But it was what it was.

The building appeared from a distance. Of the private schools I'd been to, this building was up there. I always liked a traditional building better than the gaudy, glass buildings that screamed out to be noticed. But it was so...posh. I lived in London for a little bit, and I loved to two that word around, even when it didn't work. I think it did in this case, though. The walkway was dotted with rose beds, the building made of red brick, the grounds completely gated with delicately carved metal. These were people with money and lots of it. But what were they doing living in the middle of nowhere?