Remembering Fang

.oO{ Chapter 1 }Oo.

New beginnings aren't always fresh. 🏡

Tori ♦

  I wipe my hands on my apron and sigh, using the back of my hand to wipe dirt off my forehead. It's 6AM and my new mom usually likes her breakfast warm and ready for her as soon as she's in the kitchen, so I don't have time to relax after cleaning the garage. I quickly wash my hands in the sink and then prepare the scrambled eggs and grilled cheese sandwiches. Setting the three plates of food on the dining table, I finally lean against the wall to take a breath.

   "Smells great in here," Luke, the only son in my foster family, says as he cheerfully pops into the dining room. He is 15, making him about 2 years older than me.

   "Good God, open up a window!" Linda, his mom, enters the room dressed in her usual dark grey pencil skirt and blazer. She always looked neat, clean, and professional, and she absolutely hated it when things were out of order or dirty. "The smell is too strong."

   I scramble to do as she commanded, sliding up the window behind the sink. I blink, noticing that there are tons of U-Haul trucks parking in front of the house next door. I haven't been in this house for very long, only two weeks, so I wondered if someone was moving in or out. The inquiry is washed away as Linda's voice yanks me back to reality.

  "What are you standing there for, you dumb girl?" She scowls at me, sliding the food on her plate into a Zip-Lock and stuffing it into her bag. "Go get ready for school. If Luke is late because of you, you're going to get in so much trouble."

   Nodding, I untie my apron and hang it on the handle of the oven before rushing all the way upstairs to my room, the abandoned guest room on the 3rd floor. It's still empty, the walls being bare and plain white. There is one big window with dark blue curtains that I peeled back this morning. It faces the window of the house next door, and I pause, wondering if that was another person's bedroom.

   I shake my head and open the closet to pull out my new school uniform. The school I'm now attending has a female uniform of black or white plaid skirts and white, black, or blue collared shirts. Girls were allowed to wear black pants, so that's what I go with for today. I slip on the skinny black bottoms and pull a white polo shirt over my head. I comb out my messy dark hair the best I could, and then put on my large black hoodie.

I peek at my reflection in the bathroom while brushing my teeth, and cringe. I have dark bags under my eyes, proof that I'm completely exhausted. A scar across my forehead remains visible, but I'm able to at least cover it up with a band-aid. I let my bangs cover most of it, so I could avoid having too many people noticing. Questions cause people to pay too much attention to me. I just want to blend in. I just want to be a good girl, a good daughter... that way, they won't give me back, like an unwanted item being returned to the store.

   I don't want anyone I love to leave me anymore.. so I'll be a good, obedient girl.

  There's the sound of the bus honking outside, so I grab my backpack and put my arms through as I try not to trip while hurrying down the stairs and out the door. The doors are closing by the time I'm outside, and I wave for it to stop. It doesn't help that I'm really short for a 13 year old girl. I'm only 4'7", so I'm not surprised that the bus driver didn't notice me.

  Wait! Wait for me! Please, stop.

  I continue waving my arms and running towards it, but it takes off and I can see the kids laughing at me through the window. I take off running after it, but it's no use. The bus disappeared around the corner and I couldn't keep up, with my little legs. I stop at the Stop sign to catch my breath, shivering out in the cold. I glance behind me down the street, at my new house. Had Linda left yet?

   As if on cue, her car pulls up next to me and stops, and for a moment, I thought she was offering me a ride. I reach out my hand for the door handle, but Linda isn't paying attention to me. She is looking to see if any cars are coming, and as soon as she sees none, she drives straight off. I jump back, trying to avoid getting my toes crushed.

   I pull my sleeves over my hands to try and keep warm, crossing my arms over my chest. I begin to walk in the direction of my new middle school. My first day of 8th grade, starting on a cold December morning, and I was already going to be late.

   It took me about 15 minutes to get here, so I'm grateful it wasn't too far. Not very familiar with the large school, I looked at the sign out in front, covered in light snow.

   Pawnsmith Middle and Highschool, home of the Jaguars.

  I see, so that's why it looks bigger than necessary. It's a school that ranges from 7th-12th grade. I follow the steps and path to the large double doors. Pulling it open, I'm greeted with a rush of warm air, a relief for my freezing cheeks.

  "You there!" A man calls out, his voice echoing off the marble floor. "Young lady!"

  I look around, confused. There's an office with clear windows, and a tall, blond man in a suit and tie is walking swiftly through the doors and over to me.

  "This is completely unacceptable," he scolds me, making me cringe and step back. "Why are you so late?"

   I turn around and look out the window of the front doors. Then, I raise my shaking hand and point at the buses in the parking lot, hoping he'd understand. His eyes follow up to where I was pointing and he shook his head with a deep sigh, furrowing his eyebrows.

  "You missed the bus?"

  I nod.

  "What is your name?"

  I purse my lips and look down at my shoes, my bangs sweeping over to conceal my face.

  The man was getting irritated. "I am Vice Principal Mr.Jeffrey. Tell me your name so I can write you a tardy slip."

  My heart thumping stress-fully, I look up at him and say softly, "Victoria."

  "Victoria what?"

  "Kelly."

  "Ah... the transfer student. Well, miss Kelly," Mr.Jeffrey pulls out a notepad and scribbles something on it. "Because it's your first day and you made a mistake, I'm letting you off with a warning for now." He rips the paper out and hands it to me. I take it with shaking hands, nodding.

   "Do you know where your class is?"

  I shake my head no.

After having the lady at the desk print out my schedule for me, Mr.Jeffrey sends me on my way. Alone.

The paper says my first class is an elective. Dance class. It's in room 3103, which means it's on the 3rd floor. I climb the stairs and ignored the aching in my legs, pausing at the top of the stairs for only a few moments to breathe.

I'm surrounded by neatly lined up black and white lockers, each color appearing at its own turn. The floor is polished, shiny chalk white marble. The first door on my right is room 3003, so I follow down the silent hallway until I find my designated location: Dance Studio, room 3103.

I can hear muffled upbeat music on the other side, along with a woman's voice shouting numbers to the rhythm. I knock on the door with a shaky hand, and wait.

A full minute passes by and the door doesn't move. There's a narrow, vertical rectangle window on the side of the door and I peer inside. I see the teacher's back to me, clapping her hands as she instructs the other students.

Finally deciding that they probably won't hear me, I just grab the door handle and tug, finding that it opens surprisingly smoothly. To my dismay however, the teacher turns off the music as soon as I step foot into the doorway. Her dark brown eyes swing over to mine and she frowns, looking from the schedule in my hand to the clothes I'm wearing.

"Take off your shoes and come in," she says, glancing at my worn out grey sneakers.

I do as she says, hanging my backpack on the hangers above the benches that are built into the wall. When I step onto the dance floor, I look over at the mirrored walls and notice that the girls and boys of the class were snickering at me.

I sigh. Today is going to be a long day.