Sonder

Hope

The air felt different to Hope. Chicago's smog-filled streets were a sixth sense to her; a loss she hadn't quite accepted. "I promise, honey, you're going to love Lakeside," her mother forced positivity through her broken façade.

Her mother, Evelyn, couldn't wait to leave. She resented leaving her home for her husband's job, and his infidelity had only deepened the wound. Evelyn was a natural beauty in her day, long curly hair that once danced past her hips. She'd chopped it to her neck as she aged, Hope's father felt long hair looked childish on a woman of her age.

Hope kept her hair near her back, but her dad always pleaded that she grow up—as if she hadn't been a mature girl for her age. Being sixteen with the mind of her mother, she never understood her parents' fear for her turn.

Hope was never interested in boys the way her peers were. Her focus was on college: the medical field. She'd be a doctor like her father; well, she wasn't clear on her future anymore. She didn't plan on moving to Lakeside, Virginia.

***

The house looked identical to the pictures of her mother twenty-four years ago. Her grandparents house was void, most of the furniture accented by dust and emptiness. She could still see where pictures formerly hanged.

Hope didn't know her grandparents. They resented Evelyn's husband, and Evelyn hated them for trying to keep her and James apart.

Hope's room was on the second floor, her window looked directly out to the driveway. She watched her mom solemnly herd her glass vases inside.

Hope hadn't heard from her dad since he left her mom. She could understand cutting her mother off, but she felt like an accessory to her parents' marriage. How could he not even call? Did he care she moved?

***

Dreams were Hope's only escape. She was at the beach, couldn't be older than 5 years old. This wasn't a dream: a memory. Her parents were young. Youthful. They weren't tainted by infidelity or arguing.

"Don't let her out of your sight, James," Evelyn warned. "I'm getting us drinks."

James sighed, "I wouldn't let anything happen to her." Hope knew what was coming, she lived this moment a hundred times.

James rested his tanned body onto a red beach towel with white leaves patterned identically, meticulously into rows. A beautiful woman, young with wavy platinum hair—only a few dark roots nestled in her hair—danced by. James stared at this model-like woman, inching himself toward her for conversation.

Hope saw a seashell, its white shell glistened from the soaked water and bright rays of light.

She edged herself closer to the water, reaching for the treasure only a child would clamor for. Her feet slid as a wave churned her toward the light blue ocean ahead. 

Evelyn screamed, "Hope!" Hope's body had been pulled under the current, her messy hair covering her face; the silence set in. It was only Hope and whatever horrible things she'd imagined beneath.

"Hope!" the light voice began to reach closer. She felt a hand pull her, the light inviting Hope back to the surface.

Hope woke up, Evelyn's dissatisfied face reminding her she was dreaming. "Get ready for school," her mother ordered.

***

Evelyn's silver SUV parked at the entrance of the school. The building was clean, picturesque compared to where Hope once knew. The hallways reminded her of a scene out of a Disney show she watched; something you'd see in a late nineties television series.

Everyone around her had their cliques, that was obvious. Two girls next to Hope's locker, 213 (she loved odd numbers), giggled in their matching tan suede Michael Kors boots: "Did you hear Mr. Lancaster got a DUI?"

The shorter girl—overly scrunched blonde hair with brown at the tips—cheered, "I hope I have his class. I hear he gives great one-on-one sessions."

"You slut,"  her brunette friend teased. "We should get to class, Diana."

Hope gathered her notebook and scurried off. For a small town, she felt bewildered by how open people here were. Sure, her old school was wild, but she never heard salacious gossip at lockers. Most of the girls back home fought or got high in the bathroom.

The two girls gossiping were met by two others: a caramel haired beauty with straight hair reaching the middle of their back. On a second glance, Hope realized he wasn't a girl at all. His leather pants and cropped-top that had a Chinese take out bag's art on it, made him seem older than a 16-year-old. His friend, a blonde girl roughly the same height, had gorgeous eyeshadow you'd see only on a Vogue cover, stood beside him.

"Sorry I'm late, girlies," the boy said. "My dad was being such a dick about my outfit." The girls nodded.

"He just doesn't get it," the brunette girl sympathized.

He looked over at Hope, "Can we help you?"

Hope swallowed, her mouth began to dry up: "I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to eavesdrop or anything." She felt herself beginning to awkwardly stutter, "I'm...new."

"Fucking obviously, I can tell. Listen, it's whatever. You're in the way of my locker, though, which is above you. I wish I could pay to have both spots. I hate having people beneath me," he was no longer addressing Hope, as if she hadn't been here.

The Diana girl chuckled, "Beau, you're such a bitch."

***

As she shut her locker, she saw him: His messy ashy bangs just barely covered his green eyes. He looked like he belonged in a band—leather jacket and black ankle boots with a tie loosely hanging from his tussled white button-up shirt.

Hope knew it was cliché, a scene in a cheesy rom-com. The shy girl-next-door falling for the Fallout boy. She didn't care, life wasn't like movies, but she was ready for a new personality.

No more bullies. No more shyness. No more observing her life go by.