My Life’s Game

“Selene!” my step-mother yelled. “Time to go to school!”

I mumbled an, “Okay,” that I was sure she hadn’t heard. I knew it would be merely a matter of minutes until she came stomping up the stairs, and demanded that I got into my car to go to school.

But, I was mourning.

I stared at the reflection in the vanity mirror, and continued to wonder what had happened to me. Where were my blonde pigtails? What happened to the aquamarine eyes? How did my fair skin fade? Why am I not smiling? No, the girl staring at me had long, dark locks, sapphire eyes, and a tan. Her strawberry colored lips hardly ever smiled. Her dark blue eyes had lilac circles from the lack of sleep, and her mascara was smearing clawed streaks against her sullen, tanned cheeks.

“Selene?” She knocked on the door gently. “Sweetie?”

“Come in.”

That wasn’t my voice. My voice was bubbly, girly, and always fighting back giggles. This voice was rough, scratchy, and choked as if I were fighting back tears.

“Sweetheart.”

I looked at her. How is it that I’m so different, yet she remains uncharged? Her long, golden hair was up in a high ponytail. Her youthful blue eyes were the same as a turquoise gemstone, and filled with sympathy. She was approaching the big forty, and the only thing that had even a hope of showing it was the multiple laugh-and-smile lines around her chapped lips that were coated in something to help with that flaw. She wasn’t like many women to the spotlight who felt the desire to change their physical appearance. She was completely secure toward her chubby-baby cheeks, curvy frame that added a few pounds, and small breasts. She looked like the picture-perfect American suburban housewife.

“Yes?” I winced as the voice resembled the croaking of a frog.

She came to stand near me. “I know it’s hard, sweetie.” I looked down at my hands in my lap. We’ve already had this conversation a thousand times. “But, you need to get your butt downstairs and go to school!”

I looked up at her in surprise. Then, slowly, a small smile formed. That’s Juliana. She always knows what I need.

I stood up from my chair, slung my bag over my shoulder, and began the journey to my new school.



This new school was definitely nothing like my old school. The structure was older. I would take a guess at Victorian judging by the use of bricks and large amount of windows. I also learned that it wasn’t just one building, but a variety of structures that were spaced, but from a distance seemed all crammed together. Through the decades, and constant problems forming, all their styles were completely different from each other with the almost unheard of similarity.

I sighed, and ran a hand through my hair as I sat in my silver Audi A7. If I had had my way, then I would still be at home. But, sadly, life hardly ever goes my way. That’s probably why I hesitatingly exited the vehicle, and dragged my feet toward the building that hardly anyone else was heading for, just assuming that it would be the office. I pulled my jacket tighter around myself, shivering from the frigid January air. It wasn’t like this at my old house. The only time I had ever felt this cold was when the AC was below thirty.

“Hello,” my new scratchy voice murmured to the woman in front of the computer screen.

She looked up at me in annoyance, as if her online poker game was of more importance than my education. “Can I help you?” She popped her gum in the hopes of my irritation.

“I’m new,” I stated the obvious, “and figured I needed to stop by.”

“Name?”

“Selene Whitney.”

She dug through the rusted file cabinet. “Here.” She handed me an insignificant slip of paper. “Get your teachers to sign it, then return it to me at the end of the day.”

I nodded, and walked away, no longer willing to waste my time with her. I walked toward my car to retrieve my backpack, and the map that I was sure was inside of it. Once holding the map with one hand, my schedule with the other, and my backpack slung over my shoulder, I began to walk to the main school building where most of the classes were.