She’s Just One of the Boys
A/N: The name came to me while I was listening to Katy Perry. Unoriginally plot, I know. But please give it a chance.
I know this type of story was done by many, many people and I give credit to whomever started the whole idea, so I'm not copying.
I dedicate this chapter/prologue to knightsrachel because she somehow contacted my muse and got me a-writing. And her story, Living With The Walkers, rocks. I literally read it every moment. Thanks, knightsrachel!
Note: Yes, it is possible that you can be accepted into Juilliard at 17. My private lessons instructor did at age 16! But I don’t know if you can be accepted on both voice & instrumental. I’m only 13!
Prologue
Past Tense
The flames….the heat. I can still remember that night perfectly. The screams, the smell of burned flesh, and the sounds. I can still remember the firefighter’s profile: A face full of worry lines.
“I’m sorry, kid, but your foster parents are dead.”
The words stung me like a bee. Tears sprung from my caramel eyes. This is it. I’m officially an orphan.
The firefighter handed me off to a police officer who took me to the station. I sat in the back of the squad car, marveling at what can occur in just five minutes. In just five minutes, I became an orphan. An orphan with nothing in her name. I looked down at what consisted of my PJ’s: A concert tee and short briefs. I reached into the pocket of my briefs and pulled out the only thing I have: my purple iPod & headphones. I won it in a contest; not bought it. Reyna & Thomas weren’t doing that well financially. I pulled up a playlist of songs-the iPod came with 100 songs that I requested. Decode by Paramore blasted in my eardrums. I love how Paramore were able to articulate my feelings perfectly.
The police officer finally pulled up to the station. He opened the door and I stumbled out, releasing the remains of my stomach onto his shoes & the pavement. He wrinkled his nose at the smell and roughly pulled me up. I probably looked like a zombie: tattered hair, tattered clothing, and pretty much tattered everything. He frog-jumped me into the station as everyone’s eyes flickered over to me, disdain clear in their eyes. I heard the words ‘druggie’ and other impolite things being tossed around.
The police officer dropped me into a seat. “Wait here,” He snarled. I whimpered silently. I just lost my parents and now they’re treating me like shit?
The police officer wandered over to a table where several officers were stationed, pouring over something. I sat there in that really uncomfortable chair for about two hours until the same officer walked over to me.
“Cassie, we’ve got some good news & bad news,” His gruff voice said. Hope swelled in my heart. “We’ve found a solution. Right now, you’re 16, am I correct?”
I nodded my head, worried at what the solution is. The officer continued. “And you were accepted into Juilliard early because of your academics and…um, talent.” He said with aghast. I again nodded. He actually looked impressed for a moment, but the stern look returned. “Okay, that seems plausible.”
Yes, I did get accepted into Juilliard, but I couldn’t officially start school until I’m 17, said my parents. I can actually go right now, since I’m 16, but I don’t want to disobey…my deceased parents.
“We would let you go straight to Juilliard, but your foster—“
“Parents, not foster,” I said. Reyna & Thomas were my real parents. Who cares if they weren’t my biological parents? Real parents are the ones who read you bedtime stories, rocked you to sleep, & cheered you on during tough times.
“Right,” The police officer rolled his eyes. Wow; this man is highly volatile. “Anyways, your parents left the name of the family they wanted you to stay with if something happened to them. You won’t be adopted by the family, but you will be under their custody.”
Were Reyna & Thomas planning to die? Or were they just looking out for me?
“Great. Who's this family?”
The officer smirked, “The Hunters.”
