Don't believe everything you hear | WLW

Chapter Three | An explaination long over due

                          Evelyn Carmine POV

The first day of senior year wasn't horrible. I got to see all my friends, but someone stuck out, Alethea Montgomery.

I seen her outside meeting her best friend Amara, which I don't particularly like or hate. Her hair was pinned straight. She must've gotten a hair cut because she has layers framing her face. Not like I pay attention to that.

She had a tan from when she went out to California this summer. She posted it on her insta a couple of weeks ago.

I was waiting for the perfect time to ruin her day as I usually do but something seemed different with her. She wasn't as jumpy or excited as she normally is. When she was smiling with Amara, you could tell it was fake. It's not like I care anyways, just something I noticed. She's still the selfish bitch I know her as.

I didn't mean for her to run into me surprisingly. I teased her per usual. The way she tries to act tough is funny really.

It's no question I went all out for the first day of course. My mom is hardly ever home due to her businesses she tends to. I can spend as much money as I want and she doesn't care. By not caring, I mean she doesn't notice. She's so caught up in her own life she forgets to take care of the life she created, me. The perks of a dysfunctional family I guess. My dad was the one who ran the financial services and such. We weren't always rich.

Before my dad died and my mom started drinking, we lived in New England. A small cozy town where everyone knew each other. We didn't need all the money because we had each other. Corny, I know but that's what my dad said. Almost everything he said, it stuck with me.

I was 10 years old when my dad died. We then moved to California as a new start. That's what my mom said anyway. I knew living there took a toll on her mental health seeing everything we had, gone. Gone because of one person who wasn't even here anymore. I loved california. I spent most of my time at the beach. I didn't make much friends for those 4 years.

We moved to New York short after my mom's business took off. I was 14. I started high school with hopes of a change. Through those 4 years, I changed drastically some people say. Things I loved doing, I stopped. My personality and my way of thinking changed as well. A big part of it was my dad's death, but it's still me in the end.

I remember seeing Alethea Montgomery for the first time in freshman year. Blonde hair growing to middle of her back, hazel eyes you could get lost in, pale skin. She was alone most of the time, she could be in a crowd full of people but still be alone at the same time. She stuck out to me for some reason. I had the need to get to know her, not in a good way. I didn't have the best intentions I'll admit.

Alethea was always so quiet but people always talked about her. It's not like she's ugly or ever was, she just didn't pay attention to others. She just didn't care. I wanted to be like that. I was jealous. Now, I have nothing to be jealous of. It was like she was in her own little world. That still applies to her till this day. I always wondered what she was thinking about, still do. I don't care enough to ask. Why would I care about Alethea?

I always picked on her. It started off slow, little things my "friends" would get a laugh at. That's how I got most of my popularity in the beginning. Like I said, I never really had much friends back in California and I found my way to be. A big part of it was probably because I was rich too, but who cares.

I would trip her in the hallways, steal her things, all that stupid childish shit. But once I seen it had little effect on her, I started to get angry. She wasn't looking at me like I was a person, rather someone or something else.

I would break into her locker to destroy all her stuff, ruin her clothes, say hurtful things in spite of my own problems. I've done much worse. I guess I found something to focus on, more like someone to focus on. She was my outlet. When I first heard about her mom's death I felt bad. My dad died at such a young age too, we had something in common. I guess I stuck to her because she had a sliver of understanding of how I felt in a way. Loss.