A fresh start is exactly what London McLaren needs in order to forget the demons of her past. A new last name, a new town and a new school.
She's about to start her final year of high school, ready to obey her parent's orders to keep her head down a...
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Tuesday, February 4th, 2020
I made a pact with myself when I drove past my new school last week, on the way to the new house. I would not make new friends. It would be easier that way.
Somehow, though, high school just doesn't seem to let you do the things you want. It always has a way of sneaking up on you, like the monsters you thought would leap out of your cupboard when you were five years old.
Unlucky for me, being the new girl in a school of only 200 students meant that I stood out like a sore thumb.
You'd think that my parents would go for a school with anonymity but clearly not.
My English teacher, Mrs Coplin, seemed like a sweet lady in her late-fifties at first. Then she opened her mouth, calling me up to the front of the class and ruined everything. It's a domino effect after that. Class after class, every teacher wants me to tell them about myself.
It was clear to me now that being in a small town, gossip was what they thrived off. Hell, they survived off it. I was going to have to be smarter about what I did and didn't tell people.
My palms are sweating even though it's third period and I was used to this process by now.
"Introduce yourself!" Mr Hecker, my biology teacher beams, throwing his arms out to his sides like he was conducting an orchestra.
I fight the urge to sit back down, wishing teachers understood how publicly humiliating this was for students. Worse still when you practically had to lie through every answer.
"I'm London Mc— Hall."
"London?!" someone sniggers from the back. "That doesn't sound like a strippers name at all."
"That's quite enough, everyone," Mr Hecker warns, his glasses sliding down the end of his nose as he glares at the back row.
Even still, the horror show doesn't end for another three minutes. One question stumps me every time. The question I wish I could avoid for the rest of my life.
"Siblings?" "No."
Each time, I feel like I'm back in the interrogation room last November, the police hounding me over and over.
"He was your brother. You two were close. People say he was protective of you. What did you know about his plans for November 11th?"
People always believed that just because we were close, just because he was protective, it instantly meant I knew everything about him. That I must have known everything he thought, everything he planned. There must be a correlation between believing I knew my brother and understanding his mind.
They couldn't have been more wrong.
"Miss Hall?"
I snap my head towards Mr Hecker's worried expression. "Take a seat, London."
