Chapter 1 - Genevieve
Do you know what it's like to feel so
ALONE
But how could you ever be really alone...
In a world with 7 billion other
OUTCASTS
"...a series of murders and disappearances have recently occurred in the southern part of the country..." The old, clunky school television flickered a choppy recording of last night's news broadcast, showcasing a middle-aged blonde woman with one too many facelifts alongside a perfect example of the over-use of hairspray and mascara. "...there are no suspects as of the moment, if you have any information, please call... and back to you Rob!" Our English teacher, Mrs. Jackson, flicked the television off and turned to us with her signature grandmother smile, all crooked teeth and pink gums.
The hefty Mrs. Jackson struggled to lift herself off of her creaky office chair, teetering dangerously upon it. She always seemed like an adorable grandmother to me, the one with gingerbread cookies (which she ate one too many of) and all those cheesy grandmother things that fantastical fairytales spoke of. The English teacher is a 60-something old widow who refuses to retire or change her name back to a Ms. instead of Mrs. Jackson, and she always seemed to wear linty yarn sweaters and jeans several sizes too small.
"Now," she wheezed, shambling to the front of the classroom. To be honest I've always asked myself why she never wheeled herself around in an office chair, or maybe even one of those motorized wheelchairs, but frankly I don't care enough to actually suggest it. "would anybody like to share their thoughts on this pressing matter?" Several hands were raised half-heartedly, while the others struggled to keep their eyes from closing.
Adam, this stuck-up, teachers' pet boy who always sat in front had shot his hand up. This boy was one of those people who try so hard for you to like them it actually makes people hate them. He spoke before being called on, which had always irked me. Why bother putting your hand up if you're not even going to use it for its purpose?
"I don't think they're trying hard enough, I mean... 12 murders and 15 disappearances? Why haven't they found a suspect?"
God this boy is daft.
It actually ticked me off about how much of a 'happy bubble' --as I like to call it-- he has. Naive and ignorant of the outside world, always such an optimist. Such a shame, he could've been so smart. Doesn't he know he can't live life thinking about the best case scenario? All brown hair and blue-eyed, but who knows if his eyes even see the world around him.
"Obviously it's kind of hard, I mean, one man can't travel across Georgia to Texas in a few hours. The murderers are working for somebody, but how many are there, what do they want? Who are they working for? Why? Do they have their families in hostage, maybe if you-" I rambled on up, turning my head to the left to face Adam's flushed face. Usually I never spoke, or really gave attention during class, but the subjects were usually about 'What is the significance of the color blue in this piece?' or if we're especially lucky -- note the sarcasm-- 'How do you feel about this piece?'. Today though, the subject actually intrigued me. Nothing happens much here, small town means small crimes.
We had lost a teenager, Kara Jones, last month. Everybody said it was that she ran away with her boyfriend from a few states away, she was always quite the rebel. Yet they also said she'd be back in a week, and there's still no sign of her.
"Ookay sweetie! I think that's enough! Would anybody else like to share, yes, no?" Mrs. Jackson rested a heavy hand on our shoulders, sending me a small smile.
Ignoring the rest of the class, I sent a smug grin to Adam, who pouted and began scribbling down notes furiously in his notebook.
"No uh, I'm feeling a bit sick today Melissa, don't think I can, uh," I faked a cough and held my breath to make my nose sound stuffed. "make it today. I'm so sorry..."
