Incompatible

Lace

Thud, squish, thud, squish, thud, squish... Lace had fallen into this rhythm nearly twenty minutes ago when she started her run. The rain had soaked the streets and sidewalks, forming puddles and creating pearls of water on her face. It was still dark out when she started and the sun hadn't yet began to rise yet, now it was just peaking above the horizon. She had her earbuds in, but she felt as if she could hear everything, the sound of her footfalls, the sound of the rain pattering on the sidewalk and on her hood. She was wearing a grey hoodie with the words, "Eastwood Highschool Soccer" emblazed on it, her number, "13" was on the back of it. She had another one, for track, but this one was her favorite, no particular reason except she'd had it longer. It was the middle of Fall, the leaves had just started to really come off the trees, leaving them near bare, their leaves crowding the sidewalks below and occasionally crunching beneath her feet.

Finally the concrete of the sidewalks began to subside, giving way to gravel, and eventually to dirt and grass. Finally she stopped, and sat,  just sat and listened to her music, watching the sun come up over her city, the one in which she'd lived in her entire life, and took a deep breath, taking in the chilled, fresh air. No matter how many times she came up here, this view was always tear-jerking for her, and for anyone else who'd had the pleasure of being up here with her in the mornings. But for all purposes and extents, this was her quite place, where she would reflect on her life, her memories... the happy ones, and the not so happy ones. This is where she came to clear her head, and to be alone, where she came to think. It was picturesque, on the edge of a forest line on a steep hill overlooking her town, hidden to most unless you knew where to look.

A tear rolls down her cheek, although she's not sure if it's from the view or from the memories  that are surfacing. During her fourteenth birthday, she and her mother received news that her father had been killed in an explosion. She remembered that day like yesterday. The Marines arrived, they knocked on the door, and of course we answered because why wouldn't they, it's not polite to ignore someone at the door and didn't know the news they had come with... that's when they explained how her Father had died, Lace just froze, she remembered the pure disbelief plastered on her mother's face as she searched the eyes of the marines with her own, pleading, tear filled ones, then she fainted, only to be caught by one of the soldiers. a few minutes later we were all seated on the couches, me, my mother, and the two marines in their formals. The first Marine, I recognized as my Father's CO spoke, "I'm sorry. Lance... was an exceptional soldier, and an even amazing man, he died saving the lives of his men. He died a hero." And by the looks of it, he was completely genuine in his apology. But Lace's brain wasn't processing things right at the time, she was grieving, and not just grieving for a distant relative, this was her father, who had raised her for birth, been there every step of the way. He was the one who taught her how to kick a soccer ball, how to run properly, ride a bike, even drive. and now he was just dead. Not to mention she was young, and even grown adults crack when events like this come to pass, like her mom. She snapped, she yelled, she cursed, she cried. Blaming everything on the two marines which had chosen to come here and deliver this, both of which were obviously good friends of her Father's ,"How could you let him die? You said he was an, 'exceptional soldier' and you just let him die! You don't deserve to speak about him when you probably didn't even try to save him, didn't even try to help!" She immediately regretted it, as she looked down, tears streaming down her face, and she noticed that he had no right hand. She realized that he had tried, that he was here because he really did care about her Father, and he really was sorry. almost an hour later the Marines stood to leave, "I'm... I apologize. He served his country honorably, he was a hero."

Lace's town was small, roughly 10,000 people, but there must've been only a few dozen people at the funeral, family friends, relatives... but it upset Lace more people didn't show, it seemed like such a monumental thing to her, so why not everyone else? She remembered going up and speaking about her Father, breaking down only three words into her speech, the words of which poured over nearly three pages. Then she remembered touching the casket, standing there for minutes, trying to bring him back with just her will, of course it didn't work and she started crying again. she was a wreck for months after that, she'd been diagnosed with depression, and that's when she found this spot.

Lace jogged up to her overlook every day, at first, it was difficult, she was out of shape, not fat or anything, just not used to running. She would sit and cry and think... she did that for months. finally she learned to move on, never completely, but just enough to for her keep moving and keep swinging. Now lace was here, sixteen years old, and she was the best soccer player at her school, a captain on the track team, had the highest testing scores in the state, and was in the State Band. The sun had finally began to ascend, making her caramel skin glow warm, her jet-black hair tied into a long ponytail.

Finally Lace got back up, putting her earbuds back in and pulling her hood up. She stretched for a moment and then left, jogging back through the forest, which now glowed in the early morning light, making her smile a little. When the forest began to thin, and turn into empty fields, she slowed, and walked, taking it in. A few minutes later she had reached the beginning of the gravel road, which she followed until they became concrete sidewalks, and slowly her peripheral filled with houses. finally, nearly two hours from when she'd began, she was home. She had always loved Modern homes, the sleek finishes, the beautiful wood, the glass and metal, and her home... much like every other home in the area was a prime example of a modern home, she took the key which they hid in a tube under a fake rock, and unlocked the door, walking into the open-concept living room with a concrete floor, a high ceiling, and glass walls. Lace took her shoes off and walked into the kitchen where her mom was making breakfast, something that Lace had become more and more accustomed to as her mom began to cook more, "It's my coping mechanism," She'd say whenever Lace would ask about it.

Lace's mom was standing at the stove, her back to Lace, "How was your run?" She looked at Lace over her shoulder for a moment "It was peaceful, beautiful, like always, a little sad, basically how it always is. How's your morning been." Lace's mother smiled, another thing she had begun to do more and more, "Well thank you for asking, Sweetie, It's been quite routine, not to say that it hasn't been enjoyable." she turned back to the stove for a few minutes and finally emerged with quite a bit excess of food, a stack of pancakes, a panful of scrambled eggs, a plate nearly overflowing with bacon, some toast, and a pitcher of OJ, "This is literally the prime example of what everyone wishes they had for breakfast, Mom." They both laughed for a minute as Lace's mom took her seat across the table from Lace after she had set the table.

After they had eaten, Lace dragged herself up to her room and plopped herself enthusiastically into her desk chair, the desk itself was white and sleek, the chair was white leather, with a black underside. Lace booted up her monitor, it was on a on a still image, one she had drawn of the view from memory... and she had to say, it looked almost perfect. not even half a second later music began blaring out of the headphones hooked to her computer, black, noise cancelling JBLs. After she turned it down a little, she put the headphones on and saved her work, exiting the tab. she looked down at her phone, twelve unread messages and 28 other notifications from various social media outlets, Lace skimmed through her messages, stopping on one sent from her, Destiny, Who'd been there for Lace as long as she could remember, "R u coming to the mall with us 2day" it read, "Of course!!! wen r we going?" she replied. Lace scrolled through her Social medias waiting for Destiny to respond, "well we r here so if u wanna come just get over here". Lace unplugged her phone, and grabbed her earbuds, stopping at her door to check her reflection in the mirror which stood on the far wall of the hallway, I look fine, she thought and then she ran down stairs, grabbed the keys, and slid out the door yelling, "I'm going to the mall with Destiny! I'll be back, love you!"

Lace sat behind the wheel of a Dodge Viper, on her way to the Eastern Ridge Mall to meet up with her long time friend Destiny. Not ten minutes later was she walking into the mall, texting Destiny, "where r u?" In response to that text she received an earsplitting squeal of joy, "LACCCCCEEEEEE!!! Ohmygod, I found this shirt, oh you just HAVE to see it. It's TO DIE FOR..." Lace cut her off with a small chuckle, "It's good to see you too." as she said this Rachel stepped up, "We've missed you, Love." She said with a certain nonchalance only she could have. Then Briana spoke up, "So What've you done with yourself this summer?" Bri was a good six inches shorter than me and Destiny, who are two inches shorter than Rachel. Everyone just called Bri,"B" she played basketball and had to have some of the best handles Lace had ever seen, not to mention she has the best shooting percentage in the school. Rachel was Beautiful but not really anything else, low grades, not really any achievements except being the cheer captain, and Destiny was one of those people that everyone likes, everyone is her friend. "I haven't done much actually, I drew a little, kept doing my jogs, uhm... Oh, I got a job! I worked and Wendy's this summer. But, uh, that's it... I think. What about you, B?" at this point we had walked down into a shop, VANS. "So, ladies where are we going first?" Rachel said.