Wingspan(Paranormal, Young Adult) MAJOR EDITING**

10

I recognized some faces, which led me to believe I had a few of them in one of my classes, but I didn't remember their names. They seemed nice enough and had accepted me as one of their own right away.

"Everyone this is Aislin. She's my new friend," Mya says, smiling at me as she gestured toward a free seat. "Sit down."

Today was the first time in a long while that I didn't eat lunch by myself. I didn't want to remember because it made my loneliness that much more painful. I missed Chanel and, as I sat down, I vowed to make contact with her tonight.

"So, new girl, what do you think of Starkhouse?" Jason, who sat across from me, wiggles his brows.

I forced a smile. "It's a lot to take in." I take a bite of the pizza and chew between words. I tried not to notice a lot of things, especially the fact that I didn't belong here.

Satisfied with my reply, Jason returned his attention elsewhere. Brian, who had a fleshy common nose, whistles next to me. He was cute in a 'skater boy' kind of way, with his red and black-checkered shirt and tight jeans.

"Are you going to eat all that?" Brian asks, already reaching for a fry.

I smack him on the hand before he could bum off me. "Eat your own food!" I scowl.

"Well, I think it's admirable that she has such a good apatite. Not many people do and look how they turn out," Tasha jumps into the conversation. She's a pretty blonde who sat next to Jason. From what I gathered, she was his longtime girlfriend and liked the color pink.

And when I say liked, I mean everything from her polka dotted ballerina flats to her sterling pink diamond studs was in some shade of pink. Even her lipstick was a pretty shade of light pink. Smiling, Tasha picked at a cherry tomato with her plastic spork and lifted it to her mouth to take a small bite.

Everyone at the table began talking about issues I was, of course, naturally unfamiliar about. Being the "new girl" I didn't know who they were talking about and what the current gossip was. I tried to keep up with the conversation, but then Tasha brought up that she had finished her 'trigonometry packet' and I started to feel like an alien again. Apparently Brian wanted to copy off her, but Tasha wasn't having that. She had insisted that Brian was lazy and needed to do the work himself.

"I just don't get how you have a perfect grade. You ace every test but when it comes to doing homework you always find some excuse not to finish it yourself." Tasha pouts her lips.

Brian pointed at his temple. "Total memory recall."

The conversation at the table quickly progressed. According to Mya, professor Steidman was a nefariously 'picky' math teacher and the others murmured in agreement. Right now, they were discussing Riffini's rule to obtain the quotient polynomial—something I was glad to be ignorant of. Mya and her friends were great but I grew bored.

I glance around the Lunch Hall and recognize some people, but mostly the faces seem to blur together. I did notice that a lot of groups were whispering and as they glanced around. They seemed to be gossiping. The conversation at our table quickly switched to a party that was on this weekend. It was strangely comforting, because it was one of the few similarities to my old school.

I pop open the can of orange soda and took a generous sipas I drink in my surroundings.

Starkhouse was a pretentious school. Instead of the long,plastic tables at my old school the Starkhouse cafeteria featured an open circuit court where gothic dolphin fountain tiers waterfall. They were strategically placed nearbysome carved stone benches that had two athletic gargoyles as legs and supported a six-foot stone seat.

As if by no accident the round, mosaic tables were spread out evenly so that a rush of students could move by with ease. Though a lot of the changes here made me uneasy, I did appreciate the extra space. There were countless times at my old school where the cafeteria was so crowded I would accidentally bump into someone. In fact, the tight space was one reason I opted not to eat lunch in the cafeteria. After Chanel died I didn't have the motivation to be around people let alone pay attention in school.

It was hard and not long after my antisocial behavior started that Dr. Cambridge came into the picture. I knew that I was here because of her. Actually, Dr. Cambridge had been the one to insist that I needed to get back into the throngs of society. That meant socializing properly, going back to school, and continuing my education.

Everyone became a blur as I look out the window and sigh.

Outside, a blanket of grey clouds cast overhead. It seemed to match my mood.

The large, tear shaped windows were timelessly appropriate and in proportion to the lofty beamed ceilings. The gothic arched windows showed a great view of the campus grounds. With nothing much to see besides snow and dead trees, I had to remind myself that I was supposed to be here. Maybe I didn't feel like I belong, but the headmistress saw something in me.

Since Stackhouse was built on mountain terrain there was no natural light and that took some getting used to. I missed the feel of sunshine on my skin, the perfumed smell of blooming flowers in the springtime and I was beginning to realize that until I graduated I wouldn't see these things again. Instead of a warm glow coming from the outside there were artificial lights on the ceiling. Long parallel rods flickered on and off sporadically. They generated a heated noise that made me think of a bug zapper that lured and captured its prey with a strong, electrified glow.

Practically every table was taken. In the swarm of moving bodies I detected spiky hair amidst all the commotion. Like a neon orange zone cone, Kira was the center of attention. If someone like her could follow her own path then so could I.

"You know her?" Brian gives me a displeased look.

I shake my head.