How to Kiss a Loose End

Chapter One

"You seem like a really nice girl, Alaina, so I'll give you a little piece of advice before you head in. This place isn't like a regular high school. It's a lot more sinister than that."

Those were the exact words of the welfare officer, right after she handed me my class schedule and a map, and left me to my fate.

"What do you mean?"

I watched her look around, pushing away a few strands of hair that had crossed her face, before steadying her worried gaze back on me.

"These kids . . . they can sniff out people who are different, just like hound dogs. It's scary. You might want to tone down a little, at least until you get the lay of the land."

Laughter bubbled out of me, the wild chocolate brown curls from my loose ponytail brushing against my cheeks as my shoulders quaked.

"Don't worry about it Mrs. Carleton. I'm pretty sure I can handle a bunch of preppy rich kids."

I wish I'd listened.

***

Forty five Minutes Ago

I have the rare ability to always screw my life up, but this time it's not my fault.

At least that's what I think.

Just when I thought the city of Florida was going to be my permanent stop, my parents thought it was a good idea to uproot me from the comfortable life I had grown familiar with, and move our little family to New York, right before senior year.

And now I was strapped to the front seat of Mom's beat-up Nissan, a deep frown etched on my face as she drove us through the golden gates of Bridwall Preparatory Academy.

As Mom pulled her rust-covered car to stop right next to a sleek yellow Lamborghini, I could already feel judgmental stares from the kids walking into the building.

"Honey, it's a big school," she said, letting out a cough. "You sure you don't need me to come with you?"

"It's just high school, Mom. I don't need you to hold my hand."

Even when I knew that this wasn't a regular high school, and that it could be mistaken for one of those magnificent Ivy League schools that I stalked on the internet.

She scratched the top of her eyelid. "If you weren't my child, I would have thought that you were ashamed of me," she sighed. "But you're only pitying me and that's a lot worse."

My eyes drifted to my nails. Out of a habit I dreaded, I lifted my newly trimmed forefinger to my lips and started chewing down on the nails.

I let out a sigh.

Mom's cancer affected our relationship in ways that we both didn't like.

I guess I just couldn't look at her without seeing that her illness was slowly eating away at her. I always felt the need to tiptoe around everything that concerned her, like it was going to make her live longer.

"Pity you?" I scoffed playfully. "The only person I pity is the company that's going to hire you because I know you're going to kill that interview today."