To be

"I believe I'm a good person."

My suitcase wobbled over the asphalt as I quickly skipped my way over to the line of buses from the other side of the parking lot. Not that I was making much progress. My converse created satisfying clumps across the pavement, my light backpack having no force against my perfect posture. I made sure my shoulders were squared back and my back was arched as I continued catwalk to the other luggage.

Greenstate High School had its letters broadcasted on the front of the school. Several buses lined up by the entrance, and there was a small gap between each of them, revealing the divided groups of several students.

About 6 feet from the sidewalk pavement, I turned my heel and glanced over my shoulder. My dad was sporting a green turtleneck and khakis, his oval shaped lenses resting on the bridge of his nose. He made slow but constant progress over to my location in his brown dress shoes. I would drive here myself, but I'm not permitted to leave my car here for a week when I leave. I could feel the students' eyes on me, so I knew I'd have to get him out of here soon.

Even though Greenstate was a public school, it was the best one in the country. The academics of Greenstate High attracted those of rich families and smart students, also bringing their privileged attitudes with them. Ever since me and my father managed to scrape together enough money to attend Greenstate, I've worked my tail up on the social ladder, not stooping low to do so. This added to my character that I'd work myself up to be. The mean girl who actually didn't have a mean bone in her body. Unlike the rest of us.

I turned from my position to meet halfway with my father. Then I shifted my gaze upward and gave a smile. At first, my adopted dad was a mess. His wife recently left when I arrived from foster care, and he was looking for something to fill the void. How he solves this problem?? He became a drinker. One night, very well under the influence of the substance, he adopted a little girl. Yeah, lucky me. Sure, it took some time after broken bottles and temper tantrums, but thank the lord his wife left concealer just my shade behind. After he got through his last stage of grieving, he apologized and we got very close. Now he's trying and I've never been prouder of him. He's went into rehab for 3 months and is now in an AA group. 7 years and I've found someone I can trust. Of course, it's just between me and him. No one at this school needs to know this, and no one needs to see. Like I said before, there are priveleged kids, they are very quick to judge. A white girl with a black father?? What happened to her? In one year, I will never remember these people. I will be off to college, and making something out of myself and none of this popularity biz will matter.

I look up to dark-skinned face and his matching eyes, his bald head shining under the early sunrise. Me and him looked nothing alike, for all the kids behind me knew, I was helping an old guy out. Bonus points for my character.

"I love you sweetheart. Be safe." My dad's southern voice coming out slow but comforting like molasses.

"I will Daddy. Bye." I replied with a loving voice. I made no move to hug him. If the kids behind me thought he was an old guy, I wanted it to stay that way. After college, I can hug him all I want. I just have to deal with judging eyes for now.

He turned away, taking the hint. I turned back to the direction of the students, cat-walking my way to the students with a pearly white smile.

Even though I stayed up all night, I was excited and up early for the day. I had packed everything. I even took the luxury of taking my microphone keychain that read, "Radio City Music Hall." It was hidden in the deepest darkest depths of my suitcase. It was the last thing left by my biological mom when she left me at foster care. I knew I wouldn't ever take it out of my suitcase, but having a piece of my mother along with me at this trip, it comforts me. I'm not sure why she gave it to me. What if I didn't like to sing?