Crimson Feathers

Chapter 1

A brown alarm clock stood on a lighter brown night stand. Suddenly it rang, disturbing the girl in the nearby bed.

I was trying to actually get some sleep for once!

That was the first conscious thought she had that morning. She got out of bed, somewhat grumpy, and realized, Today's my birthday...

For most people, this is an exciting time when they get to celebrate their birth and eat cake. But not for her. For her, this is just another boring school day—and she got straight A's every year. That meant school was too easy.

She had spent her first ten years of life at an orphanage. That is, until a family was finally able to and willing to adopt her. But only a few days before that, she had believed both her parents were dead and she would never get to meet them. The orphanage staff told her that wasn't true, that her father might still be alive. Her mother had supposedly died of sickness a few weeks after she was left there.

Sometimes she wished she had been able to stay at the orphanage. At least there the staff celebrated her birthday, just like the other kids. Even though they weren't there because of anyone's choice. She deeply resented her parents for leaving her.

But she was adopted. She was forced to leave. At first, she was the most cherished child in the house, even more than her parents' biological children. Over the three years she lived with them, it seemed like her parents lost interest in her because she was so good at everything. Shouldn't have adopted a kid from my orphanage, then. I don't know how, but almost all of the kids who lived there, including me, were way smarter than people years older than us.

But at least they let her live in the same house. It was something of a "use my stuff, live in my house, but stay out of my way" sort of relationship. She didn't like it, but she couldn't get anything better now. She didn't want to be the easily spoiled, stupid little daughter they seemed to have hoped for. At least they never complained about how successful she was.

She pretty, with soft, curly brown hair framing a light-toned and rounded face with deep green eyes. She was slightly taller than most of the boys in her class, which she assumed was either because genetics seemed to adore her even though her parents didn't, or she just ate the right foods to grow tall. Her two adopted siblings—a girl and a boy, twins of fourteen—were also quite tall, and they were good people, even though their parents hated her.

"Crimson?" said a soft voice she connected with her adopted brother, Skylar. "Are you awake? You're supposed to make breakfast today. Oh, and Wren and I have something for you." There was an excited note to his voice.

Hm. Something for me. I don't think I want to see it. Probably just a mean prank for my birthday.

She quickly packed her library books into her backpack. Then she changed into school-appropriate clothes. She tried to be quiet, so as to not be yelled at for waking her parents up. She didn't like knowing there were people who hated her, not to mention those who had adopted her, who had once loved her.

"Done, I'm coming to make breakfast." She called once she was done. She had already forgotten about the gift Skylar had mentioned.

As she went through the hallway, she looked at the pictures on the walls. The only one with her in it was from when her adopted parents had brought her home for the first time. It must be the only interesting and happy memory they could retain of her, she assumed.

She still remembered how great it had felt when the staff told her there was a family interested in adopting her. She thought she was lucky, that she would finally have a mostly normal life, like the other kids at the public school she had gone to then. She hadn't realized leaving that orphanage meant now she would either stay with a family who treated her horribly or be passed around through foster homes until she turned eighteen.

At least she had been allowed some friendship with her siblings. They were about a year older than her, in eighth grade. She was in seventh grade, this year. Honestly, I've helped Skylar and Wren on their homework so many times, I might as well have joined them in eighth grade!

She didn't know what she was best at, because the "homeschooling" she had gotten at the orphanage was much harder than anything she had gotten here.

Maybe she could ask to move up to eighth grade. Maybe they would let her—

Crimson made a frustrated noise, realizing she had stopped at the picture of her adoption certificate again. How long has it—Oh, good. Only one minute. She had only stared at the framed picture for a minute. Usually it was much longer.

She continued walking toward the dining room, looking inside her parents' room to see that they hadn't woken up yet. She didn't like seeing them in the morning. Their voices were imprinted in her mind like the sound of wolves howling. She shivered at the comparison.