Emerald Eyes

Chapter 1

"Brielle, we're sending you to boarding school."
My father's words hung in the air like a bad smell. I heard them, but I couldn't absorb their meaning. The coffee-with-cream-colored walls of our dining room seemed as if they were closing in around me.
Boarding school? That was for snobs and juvenile delinquents. Why was I, Brielle Christina Harper, being sent?
I turned towards my father. His murky brown eyes held no hint of emotion, which made me mad. Shouldn't his heart be breaking that his little girl (well, his fourteen-year-old, but still) would be leaving?
My mother, however, was an absolute wreck. There were tears streaming down her cheeks and she was twisting her golden cross around her slender fingers, back and forth until I thought the chain would break. If it broke, her precious crucifix would fall off and land in a pile of untouched mashed potatoes that sat in front of her. The sad remains of our Friday night dinner, with the thin, pale gravy coagulating on the plate.
I turned my attention back to my father.
"So... why, exactly, am I going? What school am I going to? When did you decide this? I thought it was my choice if I wanted to go! When we started looking at boarding schools over the summer, you said it would be entirely up to me!" I was angry now, and my dad put his hands up.
"Calm down, Brielle.” I faked a deep breath, even though I was getting angrier by the second. “First of all, we have decided you’re going to Forest Oak Academy. If you don't remember it, it was the Catholic school, all-girls. You’re right, we did say it would be up to you, but you never talked to us about where you wanted to go, so we decided for you. We decided back in October, but we wanted to wait until after the holidays to before we told you. And we discussed why you are going already- because public school isn’t challenging enough for you and we've heard reports of problems at Three Pines. Things like drugs and pregnancy that we do not want you to get involved in."
I suppressed a laugh. "Dad, what they thought were drugs ended up being some kid’s ADHD meds. And we've had one pregnancy, not that it surprised anyone, because she’s a seventeen-year-old whore whose loser boyfriend knocked her up.”
"Language, Brielle," my mother whispered, but I could tell her mind wasn't really on my (supposedly) filthy mouth. The tears were still pouring down her cheeks and she was still clutching her cross. It looked like she was trying to smother the little golden Jesus, baleful and subdued on his crucifix. My father nodded his agreement.
The front door opened and slammed shut. Soon, the thud-thud-thud of basketball sneakers sounded across the floor as my little sister, Serena, made her grand entrance.
"Hi! I made three baskets today!" she cried, kicking off her basketball sneakers and tossing her backpack to the floor. She ran to my dad, jumped into his arms, and he cradled her like a china doll. They look so much alike, with their tall frames and brown eyes. Serena got her height, scrawny build, and facial features all from Dad.
Once Serena was upstairs, an apple in one hand and a battered copy of Matilda in the other, my parents turned back to me.
"Brielle, we know this sounds awful, but you will love Forest Oak. As we saw, the campus is beautiful, and the teachers are well-educated and very nice. Small classes, lots of good values, and I'm sure all the girls are friendly. You leave in two weeks, as a mid-year enrollment. On Sunday, we'll go to church and then drive you out to school. Do you have any more questions?" I shook my head and he nodded. "All right. Go do your homework, please." I actually finished everything during study hall- but I didn’t bother telling my dad that. I just nodded and started up the stairs.
When I reached my room, I debated slamming the door, but decided it wasn’t worth the lecture and closed it gently. I couldn’t believe that in two weeks, it wouldn’t even be my room anymore. The room was small, with plain white walls and not much furniture. I had outgrown my small bed years ago, but my mom was pregnant with Serena then and my parents were too focused on buying baby stuff. She wasn't "planned", so my parents had thrown out or given away all my old furniture and paraphernalia.
The other stuff in my room was basic. A white dresser, plastered with Disney stickers from when I was four; my overflowing bookshelf; a tiny desk with Sharpie scribbles across the top; and a nightstand with my lamp and hairbrush on it. Old holiday dresses hung in my tiny closet and my few pairs of shoes littered the floor. The walls were bare except for a small wooden cross next to my door and a couple of photographs haphazardly Scotch-taped above my desk. A picture of my parents on their wedding day, my mother's white skirt billowing around her. Me holding Serena on the day she came home from the hospital, her red face peeking out of a lavender blanket. Next to that one was me as a baby, my older sister Kaitlyn rocking me in her arms.
Kaitlyn is, to put it short, a genius. All A's on every report card she ever got, college lessons in ninth grade, and accepted by almost every university in the country. She ended up going to the University of Michigan to become a pediatrician, which she loves.
Kaitlyn was the genius, Serena was the athlete, and I was nothing. I had no special talents, no interesting abilities, and nothing to say for myself.
A few hours later. I had heard my parents tucking Serena into bed, which I had taken as a cue to get into my pajamas, but other than that, I ignored everybody. I didn't want to go to boarding school. I was enough of a loner and completely regarded as a freak already. Now I would be the homesick loner freak.
At about ten o'clock, I decided to try to sleep. I reached over to turn off my lamp when the picture of Kaitlyn caught my eye again.
Kaitlyn was not only the genius, but the perfect child. Never once did she grace the principal's office with her presence, unless it was for an award or a special conference about how wonderfully she was doing. She was gorgeous, too- long, shiny brown hair; huge chocolate eyes, and flawless skin. She was short enough to be cute, thin but healthy-looking, with a confident air and feminine style. Boys chased her left and right. President of the chess club, captain of the football team, and everyone on the spectrum in between. She ignored every last one of them, though. Schoolwork was more important, she said, and it helped that she wasn't allowed to date anyways. My parents were both raised strict Catholics and still follow the principles to this very day. Kaitlyn and I both have purity rings, not that I really need one. My parents drag us to church every Sunday, make me and Serena go to youth group every Wednesday, and force us to pray before meals and bedtime. I can usually skip the bedtime ones, but everything else is unavoidable. I used to believe in God and all that crap, but I stopped in sixth grade.
A girl who was in my homeroom was in a car accident with her older sister and their uncle, who was driving. They were coming home from her sister’s soccer tournament, where her team took first place. A drunk driver was speeding- 85 miles per hour in a 50 zone- and rear-ended them. Her uncle survived with bruises; her sister survived with a broken wrist and lost half her vision in her right eye from a flying chunk of glass; and Amanda died. She had been in the backseat and her seatbelt broke from the impact, sending her flying through the front windshield. She hit a tree and died twenty-four hours later from internal bleeding.
The day my homeroom teacher told us with tears in her eyes that Amanda was dead was the day all my religious beliefs went out the window. No God in their right mind would let such a beautiful, cheerful, amazing person die in such a brutal way. She spent an entire day and an entire night in pain before she finally gave out. If God was kind and loving, he obviously didn’t get the memo that Amanda was dying. I never told my parents about my sudden switch to atheism; they would freak. To them, God is something to never be questioned and always followed, no matter how backwards or hypocritical or inane anything “He” says is. In my humble opinion, it’s all bullshit.
______________________________________________________________________________
The next two weeks passed uneventfully. My parents kept me in school up until the last Friday, which I expected. It was pointless, because I couldn't start any projects or assignments, so all I did was sit and read or fill out pointless worksheets.
Home was the same as ever. Nobody talked about my leaving. It was like the elephant in the kitchen that nobody mentioned. The only person who took notice was Serena, who very solemnly gave me one of her soccer trophies and a self-portrait of herself in her uniform. On the back, in her sloppy seven-year-old handwriting, she had scrawled a note about how much she would miss me. Her nearly illegible words made me cry.
My last day of school was incredibly boring. My homeroom teacher mentioned that I would be leaving, but nobody said anything to me about it. None of the other teachers seemed to care, except for my science teacher, who shook my hand and gave me my final grades. Whoopee.

That night, we went out to dinner. Red Robin, per Serena's request. Kaitlyn came with us and gave me a present, a plaid headband I knew I'd never wear. Then she started talking about sick kids she had seen, which killed my appetite, and ignored me for the rest of dinner. This is typical Kaitlyn behavior- she hogs the spotlight without even trying to. She’s always got a new accomplishment- a promotion, an award, something. And ever since we were little girls, she got all the attention.
Saturday was quiet. Dad drove Mom to the spa for a manicure and haircut and then took Serena to her soccer game. Serena invited me to go, but I didn't feel like making awkward conversation with my dad during the game, so I hugged her and told her I was sorry, but I had to pack, which I started as soon as the house was empty. I turned on my radio and switched to the classic rock station, where an old Pink Floyd song was playing. As Roger Waters' voice wrapped around me, I dug an old sky-blue suitcase out from under my bed and started folding clothes. All of my shirts, six pairs of pants (including two pairs of jeans and one pair of sweats), a few hoodies, two weeks' worth of underwear (to buy myself time to wash my clothes), and a few mismatched pajama items. Socks, both plain and colorful, and a few pairs of shoes were thrown carelessly into my bag. One dress and two skirts, if we had a formal event, and a heavy coat. That all went in the first suitcase. The second one, also sky-blue, was smaller and harder to find. My blankets, a pillow, my jewelry box and electronics went in there. I wrapped my alarm clock in my comforter and pitched it into my suitcase. I left that one open, in case I needed anything from it in between then and Sunday morning. I was planning on sleeping in our spare bedroom, so everything could be packed and I wouldn't have to scramble around the next morning. When that suitcase was full, I headed for my bathroom. I took a quick shower and then packed up my shampoo, conditioner, razor and face wash. Toothbrush and toothpaste stayed out for Sunday morning. In a small duffel bag, I tossed books. I added my Bible, just to appease my parents, but my rosary beads, prayer books, and crosses went into a shoebox that I shoved under my bed. I threw my purity ring in for good measure. Not that I had any plans to lose my virginity at Forest Oak- it was an all-girls’ school, after all.
My room was just about empty. Blue suitcases sat by the door, my bed and dresser were bare, and the bookshelf had large gaps in it. The only thing left to pack was Serena's trophy and picture. I buried the trophy in a blanket and stuck the picture in an old binder that I found in my desk. That went at the top of my suitcase, to keep it from getting squished. The last thing I packed was a black backpack, where I stuffed my iPod, chargers, a couple more books, a roll of Scotch tape and just random crap.
My parents got home a couple of hours later, a muddy Serena in tow. She dashed upstairs to take a bath while my mom made dinner and Dad read the newspaper. I read a book out in the living room until my mother called me out for dinner. Spaghetti with frozen meatballs and reheated sauce. No festivities for my last dinner at home.
After dinner, my parents ordered me to clear the table while my mom left for Bible study and my dad went bowling. Serena settled into the family room with a book, so I did the dishes in silence and clomped upstairs. Of course, since my room was all packed up, I had nothing to do. We didn't have a TV- my parents decided it rotted the brain and tossed ours three years ago- and the only computer was my dad's work laptop. My only option was to sit on my bed and think…
I didn't expect anyone to get too excited about my leaving, but I was surprised that nobody seemed to even care. I remembered about five years ago, when Kaitlyn had gone off to college. EVERYTHING had revolved around her. We ate the food she wanted, watched the TV shows she wanted (this was back when we had a television), and did what she wanted to do. Why didn't anyone seem to even care that I was leaving?
I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I remembered was waking up at three in the morning. I was shivering, lying on top of nothing but a sheet over the mattress, and the lamp light stung my sleep-glazed eyes. I dragged my dazed body into Kaitlyn’s old room- now our spare bedroom- curled up under the quilt, and slept a few more precious hours.
Around seven-thirty, I felt a hand on my back. It had to be Serena. She was always an early bird and assumed the rest of us were too.
“Ser, go back to bed,” I mumbled in my half-asleep state.
"It's not Serena, it's me," said my mother. She was in her pink bathrobe with a white towel wrapped around her head. “Time to I groaned and sat up. The cold air of the spare bedroom was unforgiving, and I dragged myself to my bedroom as fast as possible and selected a pink blouse, khaki pants and a pair of dress shoes that hadn’t been packed. I dug some clean underwear and a white bra out of my dresser and headed to the bathroom to get dressed. As I splashed my face with cold water and dressed in my clean clothes, alertness finally began to uncloud my brain. Once I had brushed my teeth, I packed up the rest of my toiletries, tossing the pouch into my stuffed suitcase as I stepped into my room. I double- and triple-checked that everything was indeed packed, pulled my shoes on and started hauling crap downstairs. A very sleepy Serena passed me in the hallway as she made her way to the bathroom, a purple dress and white tights hanging on her arm.
As I dragged my suitcases into the kitchen, my mother looked up at me from the kitchen table. She was drinking orange juice, a toasted bagel in front of her.
"Good morning, dear. Put your suitcases by the front door and your father will take them out to the car." She was dressed in a simple pink dress with a gray cardigan over it. My father was reading the paper and sipping coffee out of his favorite mug- the one that Kaitlyn designed for him in second grade.
As I stacked the suitcases, Serena came up behind me and hugged me.
"Brielle, I'm gonna miss you!" she wailed, her eyes huge and watery. A lump appeared in my throat. "I'll miss you too, Serena. But remember, I have your trophy and your picture, so it'll be like having you there. And I'll be home for school breaks, plus the summer." She nodded and wiped her nose on her purple dress, leaving a trail of snot across her face. At least one person would be upset that I was leaving.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
As we pulled into the church parking lot, a melancholy feeling settled over me. In just six hours, I would be at Forest Oak Academy.
Church started with singing, of course. We said a few prayers, the priest talked and told a couple of stories, and we prayed again. The hour passed quickly, and at eleven we were out of there. We dropped Serena off at my grandma Harper's house, where she gave me a hug, a kiss and a tearful goodbye speech. God, I was going to miss her.
After dropping off Serena, we stopped at the nearest restaurant, which happened to be Chili's. I ordered Chicken Crispers and my parents had Oldtimer burgers. The food was good; the waiter was friendly; but nothing made up for the awkward silence that surrounded the three of us.
The rest of the drive was just as bad. No one spoke for almost the full two hours, the only conversation occurring when my dad let my mom know he was stopping for gas.
When we arrived at Forest Oak, my father spent ten minutes trying to find a decent parking spot. He finally found one about fifty feet from the main entrance and we all hustled out of the car. In five minutes, we had emptied the trunk, and my bags were scattered on the cement when a tall girl with blonde hair and a gray polo came up to us. Under her right arm was a clipboard; under the left was a massive beige folder.
"Hello there! You must be..."- here she glanced at her clipboard- "Brielle Harper?"
I nodded and the girl grinned. She had silver braces.
"I'm Allison. I graduated from Forest Oak five years ago, but I still live here as a counselor. I graduated from a Catholic community college last year.” She shifted her clipboard to her left arm and shook hands with both of my parents. As they exchanged pleasantries, I stared at the ground and waited for someone to acknowledge me.
"I'll help with your bags," she offered cheerfully as she handed me the huge folder. "Brielle, this is info for the school. Maps, your schedule, rules, et cetera. It's all there." She grinned again and picked up a suitcase. "You're in Building A, on the third floor, in a double room. Your roommate isn't here yet, though. This is what we call 'new girl day'."
The January cold blew through me and I cursed in my head for not wearing a coat. My gray church sweater wasn't enough to keep me warm.
"Who's my roommate?" I asked Allison. She glanced at her clipboard.
"Her name is Dana Washington. She's a sophomore, a bit older than you. She's quite popular, always with this friend or that one. A benefit is that you'll get lots of alone time in your room." She laughed and I faked a chuckle to be polite. "Lively girl, she is. Always wanting to have fun. But she's also very smart, and a sweet girl. I'm sure you'll get along."
My dad cleared his throat. "Let's start getting these bags in, shall we?"
"Great idea!" said Allison enthusiastically. Everyone took something except me, since I had the massive folder stuffed under one arm. My mom had my books, my dad had my clothes and Allison had my suitcase of random belongings. We hauled everything inside and up two flights of stairs. By the time we reached my room, everyone was sweating. Allison unlocked the door and then handed me the plastic card.
"This is your key. Don't lose it; it costs twenty dollars for a replacement." I nodded and pushed the door open with my hip.
The room was larger than I expected, but not by much. Dana had obviously claimed the left side, which was the side the door led into. Fine by me, I hated sleeping by doors. Her bed was made, a smooth pink bedspread over white sheets and rainbow pillows arranged on top. Her dresser was covered with makeup, jewelry, hair products and photos of guys and girls who I guessed to be her friends. There was a poster on the wall of some male pop star, with curly hair and aqua eyes. Dana was obviously pretty and popular. I could tell by her possessions.
Allison reached out and opened a door that I hadn't even noticed. A small closet, half-filled with the latest fashions. Blouses, skirts, jeans, dresses- it was amazing she had only taken up half the closet. The other half was empty, except for a couple of mismatched ballet flats on the floor.
My parents glanced around the room, and then set my suitcases down. They shook hands with Allison, who still had her fake smile plastered on, and walked over to me. They both just looked blank as they gave me quick hugs, kissed the top of my head, and swept out the door without looking back.
"So as you can see, Dana's things are all here."
I jumped at the sound of Allison's voice.
"She's pretty laid-back, so if you need more space, I'm sure she won't mind if you move things. I'll leave you to unpack. You have an hour until orientation, which is down two floors and to the right in the multipurpose room. I'll see you then." I nodded and shut the door, locking it quickly and sinking down against the wall. Tears burned my eyes as I gazed around my home for the next five months. There were two beds, mine still empty, with a desk behind the headboard. A chair sat at each desk and a small dresser sat against the side, providing a sort of nightstand for the bed. There were two large windows, with the blinds raised, showing me a decent view of the campus. My suitcases sat in a pile next to my bed, which had a mattress on it and nothing else.
I stood up, trembling slightly, and took off my backpack. That went on my desk, since I'd need it later. Then I started on suitcases. The clothes went in the dresser, with a few leftovers in the closet. Books went wherever there was space; on the desk, on the windowsill, or stacked on the floor. I stuck my phone and iPod chargers into the wall outlet and plugged my phone in to charge. My alarm clock went on the desk, and I set the time. It was 2:25. Still thirty-five minutes until orientation, so I changed out of my church clothes and into jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. The folder Allison had given me was on the floor by the closet, so I picked it up and started flipping through it. On top was a "welcome to the school" letter, and schedules were underneath. That seemed most important.
Monday- Friday Schedule
8 am-9 am: Breakfast
9-10: Math
10-11: English
11-12: History
12-1: Lunch
1-2: Science
2-3: Art
3-4: Gym
4-4:30: Showers
4:30-6: Study Hall
6-7: Dinner
7-8: Team Building
8-10: Free Time
10: Must Be In Rooms
11: Lights Out

Saturday Schedule
9 am: Breakfast
10-12: Electives
12-1: Lunch
1-2: Free Hour
2-4: Study Hall
4-6: Electives
6-7: Dinner
7-8: Walk
8-10: Free Time
10: Must Be In Rooms
11: Lights Out
Sunday was the same as Saturday, with the exception of Mass in the morning and Bible Study/Religious Education from 8-9 pm.
I set the schedules aside and started skimming the rules. No drinking, not that I ever had. No smoking- ditto. No cursing- only in my head. Disrespecting God- again, only in my head. The rules seemed pretty basic, and for the most part, they seemed lenient. It was fine to stay in a friend's room, as long as you told a counselor where you were, and there weren't many rules about clothes, as long as you were covered up and didn't wear anything offensive.
I glanced at the clock. 2:52. I grabbed my key, a hoodie, and my phone, shoved my feet into my flats, and headed out, switching the light off on my way.
I found the multipurpose room easily. The room was huge, with blue walls and a white linoleum floor. A small podium was set up on a makeshift stage towards the front, with folding chairs arranged in neat rows. Girls were filing in, some looking nervous and others thrilled. I took a seat near the middle, in an empty chunk of chairs. Teachers stood at the front, along with counselors. I saw Allison, but she was the only person I recognized.
About five minutes later, when everyone was seated, a short, middle-aged brunette came up and tapped on the mic. It shrieked and everyone jumped.
"Well, hello, everyone. Ladies, I would like to welcome you to Forest Oak Academy. You are all new students, our mid-year enrollments, and I hope you are all excited to be here! Today we will tell you about the school, go over the rules, introduce the teachers, and we'll have a few former students talk to you. I am Mrs. Sandy Gallagher, the principal. And now I'd like to introduce the Dean of Curriculum, Mrs. Alina Doskov!"
Polite applause sounded as a beautiful Russian woman came up to the podium. She smiled and adjusted her green blouse, her pale eyes skimming the crowd.
"Welcome, everybody, to Forest Oak. I am Mrs. Doskov, and I am the Dean of Curriculum, meaning I decide what you learn, with the help of Principal Gallagher, and put it together, with the help of your teachers. I've been at this school for seven years now, and I love it more each year. Every girl at this school has something amazing to offer!" Her slight Russian accent rose in pitch and everyone clapped again.
For the next two hours, I struggled to not fall asleep as teachers were introduced and former students babbled on and on about how much they loved the school, how it prepared them for college, blah blah blah. They showed us a PowerPoint about rules and policies, which was even more boring, and then split us for "getting to know you" games. There were two residential buildings, A and B, but B was smaller. They had a cafeteria, but fewer floors and no multipurpose room. Building B girls went back over, and they sent the Building A girls to a different meeting room. I tried talking to a couple of other girls, but they all either ignored me or were just brainless bitches. So I gave up and retreated to a corner, where I stayed until dinnertime.
At 5:55, they rounded us all up and took us to the cafeteria. Green walls, ugly bluish-gray carpet, and rectangular tables filled the large room. A counter, with a bustling kitchen behind it, sat at the front with a menu above it. The servers at the counter laughed and chatted as they dished out food. I got in line with a tray behind a short redhead and waited for the line to move, which it did quickly. Macaroni and cheese was the dish of the night, with an alternate of plain pasta. I got the mac and cheese with a roll, carrots and a cookie for dessert. The food was edible- good, in fact- but dinner was lonely. I sat by myself at a small table towards a back corner, eating slowly and listening to the bubbly chatter around me. Girls whispered and giggled, tossed their hair and checked their makeup. It seemed like everyone here was annoying and superficial.
At 6:50, they rang a bell for cleanup. It took only a couple minutes to get the room spotless, so they gave us the extra time to talk and goof off. Not that I had anyone to talk or goof off with.
At seven, everyone lined up for a walk. We toured the campus, including the gym and our building. It was beautiful- all very modern but still classic-looking- but I didn't even care. I just wanted to get back to my room and go to bed.
When we finished our walk, all of the Building A girls- there had to be maybe 200 of us- split off into groups for Bible study. My group got sent to a math room, which had algebra posters all over the walls, and I sat in the very back, listening to an analysis of how God created the universe by a tiny Asian girl named Julia. She had a huge voice for such a small woman, and everyone got pretty excited. Except me, of course. At the end we had "three cheers for Jesus". I joined halfheartedly, earning a dirty look from some skanky blonde girl with a diamond cross stuck in her cleavage. How so very, very classy.
When nine o'clock rolled around, Julia let us out, and we reported back to the multipurpose room. They explained free time- you could go anywhere on campus, as long as you signed out, and you had to have a counselor escort you if you were leaving the building. I signed out with a chubby counselor, whose name tag read "Jana", and headed upstairs to my room. I grabbed my toiletries case and pajamas and made my way to the bathroom.
The room was empty, but the air was damp. Shower stalls were in a back corner, six of them lined up. I stepped into one, got undressed, hung my clothes over the door, and washed my hair quickly. When I was clean, my damp hair sending freezing droplets of water down my spine, I pulled on my pajamas and shoes, brushed my teeth and retired to my room. It was only 9:30, but I was exhausted. I set my alarm, plugged my phone in, collapsed onto my bed, and fell into a dreamless sleep about ten minutes later.
When I woke up the next morning, it took me a few minutes to realize where I was. Unlike my room at home, which was usually dim in the morning, this room was flooded with light. I had forgotten to close the blinds the night before.
Twenty minutes later, after I had freshened up and gotten dressed, I was heading back to my room when a tall girl almost knocked me over. She had light blonde hair; huge, thickly lined blue eyes; a hot-pink suitcase; and an obviously expensive outfit.
"You must be Brielle," she exclaimed breathlessly, fumbling for her key. Since mine was in my hand, I unlocked and she grinned at me.
"Thanks! I'm Dana Washington. Guess you're my new roommate." She chattered about her winter break, her boyfriend, and the school as she emptied her suitcase. I took a good look at her as she puttered around the room. Dana had on dark-wash jeans, a T-shirt with a neckline barely high enough to meet the dress code, and strappy black sandals with a slight heel. She was beautiful, although in my opinion, she had on way too much makeup.
As Dana continued to talk, a knock at the door startled both of us. "Dana! Brielle! Breakfast is in five minutes!"
I recognized the voice as Allison's. Dana shoved her empty suitcase under her bed and turned to face me, her hands on her hips.
"Well, Brielle, I'm glad you're my roomie. My last one was this awful geek. She threw a fit if I made any kind of noise when she was studying. You're not like that, are you?"
I shook my head and started gathering things I would need for the day. My blue hoodie, my key, my sketchbook, and my iPod. Everything went into my backpack. I switched my cell into silent mode and shoved it into my jeans pocket.
While Dana browsed through her makeup bag, muttering something among the lines of "desert rose, desert rose, where the hell is desert rose?!", I made my escape. Breakfast was just about to start by the time I got to the cafeteria, and I ended up one of the last in line for food. By the time I had a tray of waffles and orange juice, there was nowhere to sit except at the same empty table where I had spent dinner last night. I made my way over, carefully maneuvering around tables and chairs, and sat down in time for prayers. Everyone chimed in, thanking God for the food and having the opportunity to be at such a wonderful school.
"Amen!" everyone shouted in unison. I raised my head and ate quickly, leaving half a waffle and a few slurps of orange juice behind. I tossed my leftovers, returned the tray, sat back down and fished a Sarah Dessen book, Someone Like You, out of my backpack. I read until the bell rang for cleanup, then lined up to go to class.
Math- algebra, specifically- was my first class. I usually hated math, but our teacher promised us she would make it fun. The class did sound interesting when she described it, and Mrs. Keelson made sure we understood every concept. For once, I didn't feel confused or lost in math class. The hour passed quickly, and I finished my twenty problems on linear equations in record time. The room stayed quiet- I was even able to read after I finished- unlike my old math class at Three Pines. We had chairs being flipped over, people screaming across the room, and detentions being handed out like there was no tomorrow. I had to do most of my work at home, since it was beyond impossible to focus.
History was a snoozefest. Notes on the Great Depression using textbook handouts. But I worked diligently all the same. Concentrating on the lesson kept me from feeling homesick or lonely- at least for a little while.
English was even more boring than history. Our teacher, Mrs. Kuzinski, droned about the importance of punctuation when writing dialogue for the entire hour. I spent the time studying my fingernails and listening to the whispers of the girls around me. Clothes, boys, makeup, how boring the class was- I had heard it all a million times. Still, that didn't stop me from wishing I could join their conversation. It was only my second day at Forest Oak, and I was already incredibly homesick. It didn't help that I had no friends. No one had made any form of contact with me- not a greeting or a nod or even a smile. The only person to speak to me was Dana, and the five minutes of conversation I had had with her wore me out. She was just too... bubbly. Too cheerful, and way too much like the girls at my old school.
I stayed in my room during lunch, claiming I had a headache. Really, I just didn't want to sit alone again. I wasn't especially hungry either. I came out for science, however. An anatomy lesson, going over the body systems, their organs and the functions of said organs. Up next on the schedule was art, which I was excited for, but all enthusiasm went out the window the minute I got there.
When I walked into Room 401, almost every table was packed. All but one, in the very back, where a chubby girl with red braids was sitting. I made my way over and sat down next to her, offering a cautious smile. She responded with a scathing glare, picked up her bag and moved to an empty seat towards the front of the room. As she chattered with the girls around her, I saw her glance back at me and roll her eyes. Her friends giggled and she turned back to them.
The door swung open and everyone fell silent. The tallest woman I had ever seen stepped into the classroom, her heavy footsteps resounding on the tile floor. She wore a gray wool skirt with a matching blouse and black boots. Her long, straight brown hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her makeup-free face grew stern as she surveyed the classroom.
"Hello, ladies. Welcome to art. I am Mrs. Brookstill, and I am quite obviously your art teacher. Now, I have certain expectations for my class. The most important is that there is absolutely no talking while I am speaking. There is no gum-chewing, no making messes, no working on anything besides art, and directions will always be followed to the letter. This is a class to learn how to make art, not to learn creativity. You may do that on your own time. I have a two-strike policy for all infractions- once is a warning, twice is the principal's office." Her voice was sharp and grating, with a slight accent that I couldn't place. European, probably German or Polish.
As Mrs. Brookstill lectured about the importance of basic shapes, which included a PowerPoint, I forced myself to look attentive. I didn't want to get yelled at. By the time she had given us an assignment, class was just about over. We had to draw something using only the basic shapes. I chose a flower with a circle for the middle, squares for the petals and triangles for the leaves.
After art was phys ed. I hated PE with the passion of a thousand suns, but the only task accomplished during the hour was jogging around the basketball court. A simple task, and better than Capture the Flag or kickball. We got half an hour for showers after PE, which was nice.
Study hall began at 4:30, after shower time. It was held in a small room with large windows, giving a nice view of the snow that had begun to frost the ground again. I sat by a window, in the back corner, naturally, and began to draw.
When I had finished the art assignment, it was only 5:00, so I pulled a couple Sarah Dessen novels out of my backpack and began to read. I finished Someone Like You and began Dreamland.
Dinner was at six, so at 5:55 I packed up my books and went to the cafeteria. The meal that night was cheeseburgers, with plain pasta as a vegetarian option. I'm nowhere near vegetarian, but pasta sounded good, so I got my plate of penne and a glass of apple juice and headed for the back table. Empty, as usual. I sat down and ate mechanically, swallowing the food without tasting it. Around me, animated conversation and bubbly peals of laughter sounded, and I sighed. If I thought being at home was bad, this was a thousand times worse. Nobody even looked at me here.
Glancing around, I saw a couple of girls wearing headphones. I dug into my backpack for my iPod, fished my earbuds out of the pocket, and cranked up the Cure to drown everyone out. Robert Smith's beautiful voice curled around me like smoke, singing about how he would always love someone no matter what. I was able to get through "Lovesong", "Homesick", "The Same Deep Water As You", "Prayers For Rain", "Closedown", and "Disintegration" before the cleanup bell.
I begged off team building with another "headache" and headed up to my room. I showered quickly, got into my pajamas and went back to my room. I was digging through my duffel bag in search of another book when something caught my eye.
A black composition book was buried at the bottom of the bag. I had grabbed it by accident while I was packing, but I didn't recognize it now.
I lifted the cover. The book obviously hadn't been opened in a while. The pages had a faint yellowish tint to them. On the first page, I had scrawled my full name, Brielle Christina Harper, and a date. January 14th of eighth grade. About a year ago.
Realization hit me. This was my old diary.
The first entry was simple. Something about never using a diary before. But soon enough, around early February, the entries got dark. I wrote about being teased, about hating my family and being ignored.
I plowed through the book, skimming some entries and focusing more on others. It was a strange experience, reading the inner workings of my brain a year later.
I turned to the first day of April and swallowed hard.

How is it possible to dislike life this much? I can't take it much longer. Everyone at school hates me, my family ignores me, and I get treated like shit all the time. No one even looks at me. Juliana Beller got dumped two weeks ago, and people are still rushing to her side. People are offering a shoulder to cry on or are willing to beat up Scott or they're insisting they're there for her. She cheated on him and people are giving her the sympathy. I'm completely broken and nobody cares. I cried in English last week and no one noticed. They avoid me like I'm contagious.
I read Wintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson last month. There was a line that stood out to me: "I wish I had cancer. I will burn in hell for that, but it's true."
I wish I could just fall asleep and not wake up.
I could OD. I could take my dad's sleeping pills or my mom's blood pressure meds or Serena's ADHD medicine and swallow the whole bottle. Sleeping pills would be good, because it wouldn't hurt...
The entry ended abruptly. I closed the book gently and buried it in my suitcase again, my eyes stinging with tears.
I snapped off the light, crawled into bed, and cried myself to sleep.