Everlast

I was never a person that people looked at and envied, I wasn't a person that made very good first impressions, I wasn't a person that people would look at and think "Wow, I want to be her friend." and I most definitely am not a person just like you.

When I was 10 my family and I moved to Rochester, New York. I was so upset about it because I had loved my life in Rettastone, it was the smallest town in Sweden. It was also the first time in years that my parents had decided that we could stay in one place for more than 5 months. Which meant I got just enough time to talk to people and have a few friends, but the one person I grew closest to was Anastasia, she became my best friend because she never judged me and never thought I was weird.

I never quite understood why we kept moving around from place to place, and every time I asked I was always told it was because of where my dad worked. I believed that excuse for a while until I turned 8 and I had found a charm on my drawer that had a gravity to it, a certain pull that made me keep walking towards it, it had a faint blue glow to it, it was a circle and there were little markings around the border, I tried to figure out what the little words etched into the centre meant, but curiosity took over and I held it, and just like that it burned into my flesh, I still remember the smell of my flesh burning, the sound of my scream, and the blinding pain.

My parents freaked when they saw the charm in the palm of my hand and we fled the house and my parents were so distressed and wouldn't answer the questions I bombarded them with. We left the place in such a hurry and my mom kept asking how they knew, how they found us. From then on I figured we were running from something or someone.

"Ever, get up you're going to be late!" my mom screeched from the kitchen. I groaned and put my pillow on my face. "Ever, if you don't get down here in 10 minutes I'm coming up there and pouring water on you!" I sighed. I knew she would. She had done it so many times I swear I could raise an entire aquarium with the amount of water I had in my lungs. I took a deep breath and willed myself to get up. I looked at the time and my eyes widened, I ran to the washroom and took the quickest shower I could.

I quickly pulled my hair up into a ponytail not caring that it was still dripping a lot of water. I stared at my reflection that was looking back at me, my raven black hair reached up to my shoulder blades now that it was up in a ponytail, if I had left it down it would be up to my hips, my cheekbones are chiseled, jaw line prominent, nose that people always assumed I got plastic surgery on, but no thank you on that, and my eyes were greener than usual, thick eyelashes, arched eyebrows, and olive skin, sometimes I thought of myself as beautiful, I laughed at that. Nope.

I reach for my lip balm to keep my always chapped lips okay and that's all I put on because I hate make-up, that stuff makes my face way too itchy. I rushed into my closet and pulled on my grey sweats, black tank top, and hoodie, I ran down the stairs and into the kitchen still trying to get my left sock on, I grabbed my bag from the counter, an apple and granola bar, kissed my mom's cheek and bolted out the door and only when I came in view of the school did I tie my shoes, putting the last piece of the granola in my mouth I entered the school with the crowd of my "fellow high-schoolers". Wentworth High. In Plaisir, France to be exact.

It was the only school that spoke entirely English, and not French. I thought it sounded like a name for a type of hotdog. After making the usual trip of getting pushed, feet being stepped on, binders scraping against skin did I make it to my locker, just in time too because the bell had rung for first period. Great. History class with Mr. Walters, I swear if he gets near enough to you his body odor will make your eyes water, and don't even get me started on his breath.

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"In June 1514 Brightelmstone, now known as Brighton, was burned down in ashes by French raiders during a war between France and England." My eyes were skimming through the pages of the textbook and picking off the lint on my hoodie, only half listening to Mr. Walters. "Please turn to Page 89." Mr. Walters announced to the class, I always end up laughing at his southern accent. I was still trying to find the page when I felt someone watching me. I looked up to tell the person off, but instead saw the entire class looking at me, including Mr. Walters.