In Search Of

"Oh, honey, check this out! They have a knitting club! How cool is that? When I was in high school, the only club we had was-"

"Study Club. Yeah, Mom, you mentioned that."

Sarah Evans ignored her daughter's snippy comment and continued flipping through the pamphlet, reading how the school’s academics were nearly the best in all of California, and that their lacrosse team had won Nationals four years in a row. It seemed like the more she read, the more she seemed to like Beacon Hills High.

Her daughter, on the other hand, wasn't as enthusiastic.

Piper could care less about the knitting club. She didn't care about any club, as a matter of fact, nor did she care about the academics, or the freaking "All-Star Lacrosse Team." All she wanted was to leave the nightmare that was Beacon Hills and move back to Detroit.

It all started with her dad. When school let out for summer break, Piper and her mom decided to take a short vacation to visit her grandparents in Virginia, hoping for a little mother-daughter bonding time. Her father seemed a little too fine with it, and encouraged the two to have a good time and to stay as long as they pleased. It wasn't until they returned that Piper realized why her father was so laid-back about their trip.

Now, there's no need to go into detail about what Piper saw. It was quite disturbing, actually, and will probably scar her for the rest of her life, but needless to say, yes.

Her father had an affair.

The woman wasn’t but a few years older than Piper, who at sixteen was still just a teenager. The woman was a secretary who had been recently hired at her father’s auto shop. Real original, Pops, Piper remembered thinking sarcastically as the two scurried to dress themselves. There was no denying what had taken place, so the only thing the two could do was bow their heads in shame. Piper remembered not being able to even look at her father, and only kept her eyes on the ceiling fan. She watched the blades spin around and around and around. It was almost comforting, to say the least.

But the comfort sure didn’t last long.

A sob escaped and her mother collapsed. She heaved and wailed, pounding her fist into the carpet and cursing at the “whore” her husband had been screwing. Piper had no clue how to comfort her mother, so instead, she continued watching that ceiling fan. She counted all the blades and how many times it could spin in a minute. She counted far past one hundred, but when the minute was over, she just kept counting.

More numbers, more time, more space between her and reality.

Then it got quiet.

Her mother stood up and wiped at her face. She settled with a stoic look, narrowing her eyes at her father’s secretary who looked as though she was about to throw up. “Get out,” Her mother had snapped, motioning towards the door. The woman left without hesitation, not even sparing a glance at Piper’s father.

Speak of the devil, after finally having the courage to look at him, Piper almost felt the need to laugh out loud. He looked downright pathetic. His face was red with embarrassment, his hair was disheveled, and he had his pants on backwards. His mouth opened and closed like a fish that was stuck on shore and longed for water. Nothing was said, but his lips just kept opening and closing. Finally, his eyes locked with those of his wife’s and he spoke.

“Welcome back.”

Piper snorted aloud, causing her mother’s head to snap over to her. “What’s so funny?”

“Huh?” Piper realized she had been lost in her thoughts, forgetting where she was. “Oh, sorry, I just remembered something from TV last night,” she murmured, and her mom went back to reading the pamphlet. Piper didn’t say anything else; she just slouched down in the squishy, leather chair and closed her eyes.

It was hard for her to mention anything about Detroit to her mom, though she really did want to go back. It wasn’t for her dad, that’s for sure, but rather because she missed all of her old friends and her old house. Hell, she even missed taking the city bus to school every morning, and passing all the old, run down houses, most of which were on the brink of collapsing. But that was her home. Some may say it was ghetto and trashy, but to Piper, it was beautiful.

“Mrs. Evans?” A voice called out from inside the office. A dark-skinned woman stepped forward, her high heels clacking against the linoleum floors. She smiled at Piper’s mom before turning to the teenager herself. “You must be Piper. It’s so nice to meet you. Welcome to Beacon Hills.”

Piper gave the woman a small smile. “Thanks,”

Piper’s mother smiled and shook the older woman’s hand. “You must be Mrs. Thatcher. We talked on the phone, correct?”

“We did,” Mrs. Thatcher said, taking a step back and smiling rightly. “Now, if you don’t mind, we can just step into my office and I’ll get you all the paper work…”

The woman droned on, shoving different papers and packets at Piper’s mother and spewing out all the, as she put it, “wonderful and exciting things to experience at Beacon Hills High.” She continued to explain all the rules and regulations, basically all the obvious things you should not do in school, and then she followed up with a tour.

“I hope you enjoy your school year, Piper,” Mrs. Thatcher commented once they finished up. “Sophomore year is always tough, especially for someone who is new.”

Piper scoffed, “Yeah, thanks for reminding me.”

As if I didn’t already know.