Spark

Chapter one

New school new life.
Right?
Well at least that's what my mom says, and my therapist, and my ex-school counselor. And now ,apparently, me. But that's not what I really think. What I really think gets tucked away in the deepest, darkest corner of my brain, along with my past and all the horrors that it holds, where no one can ever find it.
Ever.
One of my moms sayings is "fake it till you make it", that is until the pain becomes bearable. Like plastering some phony smile on my face is somehow going to help me leave my past behind.
My best friend Lilia had some very different and /slightly/ extreme views on how to handle pain. She said people who ran from their pain, from their pasts, were cowards. Running wouldn't make anything better. It wouldn't make the pain go away. It would just distance you from your problems, making them that much harder to solve.
Me? Well I'm somewhere in-between. I believe time and a little distance heal, or greatly lessen, some wounds..... But not everything can /be/ fixed. In the end it is your life and when all is said an done, and you've had your closure, you need to be able to walk through like knowing you're a better stronger person because of your past experiences.
I think eventually I'll be able to do that, but for now, I'm going to use my moms plan of attack.
I roll out of bed an pull on the outfit I laid out last night, a flowy green sundress and white ballet flats. Another one of my moms favorite sayings "if you don't look cheerful, you can't be cheerful"
For my moms sake I play along.. I don't want her to worry about me.
I turn to the mirror and make a half hearted attempt to tame my unruly mess of orange curls, but let's face it, they'll never be tamed.
"Aneeeeeeeette" I hear my moms bright, singsongy voice call from down stairs "waffles are ready!"
"One minute mom I'm almost ready" I call back down trying to mimic her tone
I put some make up on and glance at the new, cheerful, me before running down stairs for some waffles.
"So" my mom says as I walk into the kitchen "how's my little Netta?"
"Just fine mom, thanks for asking" my smile tightens as the lie slips out,
Honestly, I was deathly nervous.
She looks up "are you sure?.... Merida" she starts to laugh which sounds like a cross between a giggle and a snort and my smile starts to feel a lot less fake.
"Yes mom I'm sure" I reply once her snort-giggle has died down.
"You sure you're ready to go today? Cause you can always wait another week and I woul-"
"Mom I'm /fine/ okay?" I cut her off before this becomes another one of her ten minute rants about how she loves me and how she supports the decisions I make. Not that it's not sweet and all, but I think I've heard it enough times that I'll know it till my grave. "Besides, with the move I missed two weeks and I'll already have a tough enough time catching up as it is. Plus it's /junior/ year mom"
"I know but I just want you to feel comfortable sweetie"
"I know mom, but how am I supposed to feel comfortable at a school I've never been to?"
"Well I guess you have a point. Time to go to school then?" She asks glancing at the clock.
"Yeah" I grunt lugging my bag, which is full to the brim with textbooks, from the floor "time to go to school"