To Be...

Chapter 1

I tightened my closed lids as the Lincoln Mercury skidded to a stop. I didn't open my eyes, yet I knew where I had been delivered. I envisioned the white skinned brick encasing the one story school that stretched over three acres of land, and I cringed. My mother slapped my leg, and I, gaining consciousness, groaned in exhaustion.

"C'mon, Bree. Get out! You'll make me late at the office!"

I glanced over to her, and rolled my grey irises. She was clearly overdressed for her job at the post office. She wore a knee-length A-line skirt, a matching coat, and a silk white blouse. Her maroon lips spread into a thin line as she realized what I was thinking.

"Just go to school already!" she sighed in annoyance.

I grabbed the handle and kicked the door outward, to dramatize my anger. I grabbed my purse and spiral notebook, and slammed the chipping blue doorframe. As I began to turn, the window squealed slowly down.

"Don't forget, Michael is coming for dinner, tonight. Don't skip out."

I growled under my breath. Michael was a therapist my mother, or Emily as I called her, fell in love with. She believed he was the most magnificent thing in the universe-besides handsome rich guys. He had a crooked nose, and a nasal filled voice. That was not why I didn't like him, though. I wasn't fond of him due to his spoken evaluations of my every action and word. I would tell my mother I wasn't hungry, he would say that I wasn't ready for her to date men since my father. I would refuse to go to a dance, he would announce that my fear of being unaccepted was the cause.

"I won't miss it," I squeezed through gritted teeth.

She smiled at my effort, and stomped the gas. She was gone in a matter of moments. I turned to see that the school yards inhabitants were herding towards the double doors. I squeezed myself through a tall, sweaty boy, and a girl with glasses and a stack of books.

Once inside, the mob only worsened. Without a shepherd, the sheep rambled along in any direction, running into objects along the way- or so I saw it.

I stumbled into my homeroom, and the teacher, Mr. Lance Deuhert, glanced sleepily in my direction. I saw the upcoming interrogation inside his eyes, and prepared myself. He had a tendency to become argumentative whenever I was around.

"Well, Ms. Night, what excuse today?"

He leaned back in his rolling chair; head centimeters from the dry erase board. Somewhere, in the deep depths of my cold heart, I wished the chair would collapse. I had, actually, skipped school the previous day-but I did not plan to let him bask in glory.

"I was sick with the flu, and the doctor said it was contagious," I sighed, sliding into my desk.

Evana Davis, my friend since middle school, passed me the notes from the previous day. We hung out every Friday night, in some sort of tradition, and ate peanut butter from the jar while watching Hannibal movies. She was always very blunt, which is why we got along so well. She could get a hold on my attitude, which I conveniently always have, and keep a straight face while I unleashed it on others.

"Yet, you come here after only one day?" he began annoyed. His eyes pinched together, waiting for another answer.

"24-hour flu." I suggested, though I knew it wouldn't quiet him.

"And I'm sure you have a doctors note," he sarcastically stated.

"I'm sure you have something worth learning today."

His face turned red, as the last student who entered the class even began chuckling. He didn't answer, and I could see the muscle in his jaw twitch. This will be another day out of class, I sighed to myself. I shot Evana an apologetic glance, and she understood. She slid another sheet of paper from her stack, and headed it Brianna's Notes. I have no clue what I would do without her. I continued:

"I mean, I don't mind if you want to chat with me all class period, but I'm sure these fine students would like to be taught academics, not socialization."

I rose from my desk, not even sitting in it long enough to transfer body heat, and strode the classroom. I gripped the doorknob and turned.

"I'll find my way to the Deans." I smiled, and exited, leaving the class in a roar of laughter.

Of course, I didn't plan to go to the Dean's office. Instead, I headed for the old gymnasium, behind a stream of oak trees. It wasn't used any longer, but a dust covered grand piano was hidden inside. I eased my stress by playing the piano. No certain song, but the keys I tapped strung into a melody that coincided with my emotions. I sat, glued to the stool for almost an hour, before I heard the chime of the first period bell.

Feeling slightly better, I grabbed up my belongings, and crept out of the building. I saw a group of teenagers chain-smoking, and shook my head. One, the ring leader, saw me and they all followed his instruction and smothered their burning cigarettes into the dirt. Strange, what was that all about? I continued towards the back entrance, but felt an uncomfortable set of eyes on me. I ignored it.

I opened the door to realize the halls were over-packed. I squeezed to my first period class, English. Once I entered, I nodded to my two friends Isabelle and Lauren, who had saved a seat at the plastic covered wooden table. They smiled and waved towards the seat. As I headed their way, a voice stopped me.

"Oh- Brianna, the guidance counselor has been searching for you all morning. Hurry, now, he says it's very urgent."

Her usually cheerful face was emotionless, so I left. What did the guidance counselor want with me? The hallway was near empty, other than the ditchers, outcasts and couples. They looked up as they heard footsteps, all too conscious of my presence. Suspiciously, their eyes revealed too much emotion for only acknowledging my presence.

I shrugged my shoulders. I was in a giving mood today. I slid around the corner, but turned back around to leave once I saw a police uniform. Mr. Deuhert was just insane enough to call them on me. I thought he had gotten used to this by now.

"No, no, Brianna, come here. You're not in trouble!"

I grinded my teeth, angry that the guidance counselor had seen me attempt to escape, but the promise that I wasn't in trouble made me incredibly curious. When I was curious I would head towards doom to find the answer. Had I known then that I was doing exactly that, I would have frozen in place.

Instead, I walked towards the cop, wrists outstretched for handcuffs. He stood still, disregarding my cooperation. I was giving myself up easily, yet he just stood there.

"Aren't you supposed to read me my rights?"

He disregarded my question as well. I glanced to the counselors face, and dread began devouring my body. A mixture of pity and pain projected from his face. I took a step back in disbelief. Why does he look so unhappy?

"What's going on?" I gasped.

The officer took a step towards me, making up the distance. His hand steadied me, and I dropped my belongings to the floor.

"Oh my God." I guessed breathlessly. "Where's Emily? Where's my mom?!"

The counselor turned away, unable to bear seeing one of his students this way. The policeman led me by my elbow gently, and I obeyed in a daze.

"I'm very sorry, Brianna." He mumbled sympathetically.

I didn't feel myself breathe, and I didn't feel myself thud into the back seat of the patrol car. I also didn't realize that I, indeed, wasn't breathing, nor that I fainted against the leather seat.