That Stupid Little L-Word:

Chapter Three:

Yes, I turned Andy Biersack -*cough sexiest man alive cough*- into a normal player, without all his fantasic makeup and god-given music.

Bite me.

*~*~*~*

Large, white foamy waves crash down onto the beach, washing across darker wet sand swiftly before pulling back and repeating the process. Something salty wafts through the air-clogging my senses, and the sun beats heavily down onto the beach from above. My toes curl into the dry white sand, making a small squeaking sound.

I stare at my toes in disbelief, "It squeaks!"

My toes instantly move, trying to recreate the sound. I don't notice my mother walking up beside me, questioning my sanity, "What are you doing?"

"It squeaks."

"Does it?" Her toes start to rapidly curl and uncurl. Her eyes widen in surprise and, like an excited child, she begins to giggle manically and continue curling her toes. I sigh softly, hiding a smile as I shake my head and look back towards the ocean.

My mother gathers up most of her hair, tying it back, and murmurs, "So are you ready for school?"

I stare blankly at the waves. My stomach drops through my feet, twisting and churning in the sand. I try to imagine it; the idea of starting a brand new school, as a senior... it terrifies me to no end. I'll know no one. Everyone will already have their own groups; they will be unwilling to let an outsider in. It'll be like freshman year all over again, only without the minor comforting promise of a best friend or a past friend waiting for you at lunch.

"The first day starts Monday. My boss was kind enough to enroll you for me, since she is located here as well. If you want, we can go clothes shopping later on today or tomorrow." She continues to babble, gaze avoiding my direction. I wonder if it's because I got sick last time we 'discussed' the whole prospect of moving and starting anew. "I'll even help you unpack your room-"

"No," Worry spikes through my chest, "Don't worry about it. We can go later." I don't want her going through my crap. I don't know where those hands have been.

She smiles slightly, "Alright, I won't touch your room. I just didn't want you to get so stressed out with trying to unpack and keep up with schoolwork at the same time."

I shrug, "I'll manage."

She lets out a small, content little sigh. "It's just all coming together, Alice. Everything is falling into place." She gestures to the ocean, and then to the house, "Everything is just beautiful. We have enough money to live comfortably and you'll be graduating this year, so you can get a job."

My nose scrunches up as I try to list all the places I could possibly work, places that would accept my awesome sarcastic and narcissistic ways.

So far I have none.

My mother soon leaves, making her way back into the house to start unpacking our suitcases. People roam the floors, setting down a couch here, a chair there. They set up our beds upstairs and make sure they are facing the direction we want. My room is simple-white washed walls with light wood furniture and crimson red sheets. The queen-sized bed faces the double-door balcony, that overlooks the ocean, and a vanity-dresser is pushed against the wall several feet away from it, facing the bed. A desk sits on the other side of the bed, also facing said object, with a television sitting on a higher shelf connected to the desk and a sleek white laptop sitting just below it. I end up sitting on my bed, toes brushing against the curly-ringed carpet that was placed beneath my bed, over the hardwood floor.

I feel like I have a bunch of tiny pig-tails between my toes.

My phone sits on the other side of the bed, silent. I'm sure if I had any friends, it would be vibrating so much it would fall off and onto the floor. But I have none. I wasn't exactly friendly after Jake passed.