𝙎𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆𝙎; 𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙨𝙡𝙤𝙖𝙣 (𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦)

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙣𝙚

chapter one

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'Novelty and challenge draw us out of our heads and reengage us with the world, and this appears to benefit us in multiple ways.' 

Amber had come across an article months ago. Something about routine suffocating our brain. She nodded her head when she was reading the writer's words. Apparently shaking things up could prevent your habits from tying you down.

When she read those words she had other things in mind, like challenging herself with trying a new coffee place, travelling somewhere past the San Francisco forest line, learning a new language to curse without her mom knowing.

A new and unfamiliar experience like that didn't sound too bad.

Seemed like her mother took it way too seriously. Her parents getting divorced was not exactly the break of routine Amber had in mind.

And certainly not moving to a new city.

Her body was still stuck in the mechanics of The San Francisco Amber.

Wake up, look at the horrendous peach wallpaper ( she once attempted to throw sauce at it when she was 10, don't ask ), attempt to hide inside her cozy closet in her freshly ironed uniform until her mom dragged her out, run to catch the bus, hate the rest of her day but love all her friends.

Ah, she missed having human interaction with other humans.

Seattle was murky and overcast like out of a Hemingway novel, but the least it could do to make up was have better people.

People who'd look at her and say "Oh Amber, that cool girl? Yeah I wish she could be my friend. Her hair looks so good! Those Irish genes really pay her off well, damn!"

...Yeah, she didn't happen in San Francisco either.

As she stood in front of her new school, the building looking more like an amphitheater with a student convention, all she wished for was to curl up in the old yellow bus that drove her to school every morning in Sam Francisco. Her hate for the clunk of teetering yellow metal was almost as legendary as Shrek 2, but Amber decided hate was almost love sometimes.

She could use some almost love right now.

Anything to make the gloomy overcast skies seem friendly, have another meaning other than tears.

The safety she once took for granted was far gone as unfamiliar eyes looked at her in the halls. She was the new girl and she hated every moment of it.

It would have been better if she knew what they were thinking. If she was dressed properly or got the right books...

It was the heaviness in her chest that made change so much more difficult to take in stride. The way she was bound to be a kid from a broken home.

( Maybe it was already broken, her parents covering the chips and cracks of the foundation it was built on. Their smiles always seemed too happy, and too compromising. )