Porcelain Skin (NOW ON AMAZON KU)

1. Bright Idea

Also, I'm aware that the whole "partnering" thing is cliche (you'll understand what I mean when you read this chapter), but it had to be done. I added plenty of twists and turns to make up for it later. That's all. Enjoy! <3

My shoes graze the sidewalk like sandpaper on wood. I watch each step I take, mesmerized by the cracks weaving themselves throughout the broken concrete. Bright, lively tufts of grass shoot from the crevices in the most significant display of hope. Beauty can grow from the most damaging circumstances; you just have to look for it. But, I'm still stuck in a season of drought, because hope is the furthest thing sprouting from my brokenness.

I appear alive, smiling like any normal person would, but only because I need people to believe that flowers are blossoming out of the mound of debris that represents my past. I'm still a mess, but my hope is that no one will ever know.

It's only the first week of college, yet my days already feel much too long. I'm finally headed back to my dorm after a mind-numbing day of classes. Unfortunately, I'm too exhausted to stop for food along the way, and I already know that my cupboards are empty. I'm debating how to solve this dilemma when I see a familiar face coming towards me. If only I could remember why I know her.

We're just about to pass each other when her cell phone goes off, which scares the coffee right out of her hand and onto my shirt. I yell out of surprise, the scalding liquid shocking the breath from my lungs. I jump back, pulling my shirt away from my chest as my skin screams in pain.

"I'm so sorry." She's nearly crying as she apologizes over, and over, and over, and over for her clumsiness.

"I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay," I assure her before my brain can even register whether I'm actually okay or not.

My coffee-stained shirt cools down quickly and I look up to see a worried, guilty look on her face.

A chuckle is forced from my throat. "It's fine," I say, allowing laughter to fall from my lips as I look at the fear and remorse on her face. "Do I know you?" I ask.

She looks up from the stain on my shirt to inspect my face. "Uh... oh oh oh," she says as she snaps her fingers repeatedly, trying to get whatever is on the tip of her tongue out of her mouth, "Oh!" Light bulb. She points a finger at me. "You're Emma, right?"

I laugh at her enthusiasm. "Yeah. I can't believe you remember me!" I'm about to apologize for forgetting her name when it suddenly clicks. "Lindsey!" She's the sister of Trevor's best friend, Chuck.

She nods, a smile lighting up her face. "I had no clue you went here!" she says excitedly. I'm not sure if she's really all that excited to see me, or just to see a familiar face. "Where are you staying?"

"Samantha Hall," I tell her.

"Oh," she pouts. "I'm in Stevenson Hall." She pulls out a notebook and scribbles something down. "Sorry. I'm in a bit of a rush, but here's my number. We should hang sometime."

I smile at her, feeling oddly comfortable with her over-friendliness. "Yeah... sure."

I take the offered paper and we part ways. My brain is already forming ideas and I feel a bit guilty. She's always been a likable person, so I'm sure we'll make great friends, but I have a fantastic idea that involves using her just a little bit. She happens to have the connections I need. I just have to figure out how to convince her to go along with it.

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The moment my foot passes through the threshold, fear grabs a hold of my chest with its painful talons and squeezes. I hate the first day of class, especially this one: Psychology - the study of human behavior. I have no desire to reveal why I act the way I do; why I cover up what I'm truly feeling.