Broken Prodigy | COMPLETED ✓

Chapter 1

Hello (non-existent) readers!

Welcome to Broken Prodigy - the novel idea that was least likely to become a completed book but I somehow finished it anyway.

This is in the process of editing, so I will be keeping track of which chapters I have edited and which ones need doing.

Enjoy the story!!

Also - this story deals with real life problems and mental health. When I started writing it, I wasn't very experienced in how to portray such things, but hopefully once edited it will be more accurate.

Thank you for reading my very boring Author's Note!!!

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I ignore an endless row of skeptical stares as I walk past each seat on the bus, the local residents already deciding that I'm no good. All of them are either wearing fancy suits or the latest style fashion trend. There's no doubt I stand out in my navy and white plaid shirt, jeans and trusty Akubra hat. And my boots. My old, worn western boots are an unusual contrast to the nurtured and shiny-with-polish black shoes, as well as the stylish sneakers of the other passengers. The driver gives me a scowl as I pass him, frowning in distaste at the faint dirt prints I've left on the bus's flooring.

"Uh, thanks," I say, nodding to the driver. He gives a gruff grunt of acknowledgement. 

I sigh as I shuffle off the bus, two plastic bags full of groceries in hand. I'm still getting used to the feeling of gravel beneath my boots, not dirt.

Nestled at the end of the road, I have to remind myself what house I'm looking for. Brick, but not untidy, with a shed snug at the end of the driveway. A vast difference to the old weatherboard cottage and acres of free land I'm used to. 

We had to look on the very edges of Wilson Creek's township to find a house on the market with a big enough backyard for a small paddock to keep Dad's big bay stock horse, Cruise. We ended up finding one that had three small paddocks, plus the hay shed.

The sky, an unusual dark grey in the midst of summer, frowns upon me, and the shopping bags in my hold suddenly feel heavier as I make my way towards our new home, walking down the concrete footpath and inspecting our neighbouring households. 

I've already figured out that the house across the road, a khaki green and white weatherboard one, with a property a bit smaller than ours, is home to a young family with two toddlers. The houses on either side of us are owned by couples, one pair newly-weds, the other two nice elderlies who have at least 3 dogs that love to yap loud enough to wake us up before dawn. Nobody's really acknowledged us, but I'm not surprised.

We're different. And to these people, different is scary.

Dad isn't home yet. From where, I don't know. Dad and I have a pretty good relationship. It's remained just us since forever, since the mother I don't remember left when I was young, and I'm an only child. 

The only person I will miss for sure is Lucy. Lucy is the one person in the world I treat like family, apart from my dad. Despite our opposite looks, what with her fiery straight auburn hair, and my untameable long blonde eruption of curls, she's been my best friend, neighbour and riding competitor for years. But now I'm living four hours away, so there's no chance we'll be seeing each other anytime soon.

A flash of searing pain from my left leg pulls me from my thoughts.

"Argh," I say as I drop the bags on the path and take the weight from my foot. The doctors said I need to take it easy, but obviously they have a different idea of easy to me. They expect me to stay in the house and watch TV. I can't remember the last time I did that. I can't sit still very long. It's just one of my things.