Running With Scissors

Chapter One

The day is warm, unseasonably warm for a September day. Anyone even just considering wearing a sweatshirt, scarf, or some other form of winter wear out in the unbearable heat wave would have to be mad. Well, I'm glad to have the confirmation.

"Oh, Angel, honey, won't you get hot in that? It's nearly ninety degrees out there, just take the silly thing off-" I turned to glare at the speaker, and she quickly shut up, ducking her head. When around my father, my stepmother acts domesticated, meek even, the perfect angel for when he needs comfort. However, as soon as he's out to work, or shopping, or something, she's on my case, screaming like there's no tomorrow, about what a failure I am, and how I'll end up on the streets, and how my father's stupid not to see it...

The man in question is seated at the table next to her, and sends me a look over his laptop that's set in front of him. "Be nice to your mother." He chides, though I know he's not completely against me. He can sense that the two of us don't get along well, he just doesn't know how bad the relationship actually is. I frowned, crossing the room and walking past the table in order to retrieve an apple from the fruit bowl next to the fridge. "She's not my mother." I snapped back, sashaying out of the room again like the drama queen the world's come to know and love, Angel Douglass.

To say I don't get along very well with my family is a complete understatement. I don't get along with much of anyone, and that's just the way I like it. There's no one who's going to lie to you, or break your heart, or betray you, or be an ass-There's just you, only you, in a bubble of your own making. I creeped out the rest of the high school, and in return, they left me alone. It was the perfect setup.

Having already changed from the ratty old pajama bottoms I'd been wearing for a plaid flannel button-up, black hoodie, black jeans, a pair of scuffed-up converses and the black beanie my uniquely colored hair was never seen without, I dragged the straps of an ancient navy blue backpack from my elementary years over my knobby shoulders, grabbed the equally ancient case of the laptop I'd owned for a few years now, and was out the door before my stepmother could give me the usual rant about 'saying no to drugs' and 'making friends.' Honestly, she sickens me, both when she's pretending to be nice, and when she's not nice at all.

The walk to the local high school, a modest building by the name of Penworth High, also known as Penis High, takes only five minutes-In fact, walking anywhere in the equally modest town of Penworth takes about five minutes. We're barely on the map as it is, a teensy town dedicated mainly to giving children good educations and selling handmade items, such as soaps, toys, multiple food products, and other dumb stuff. The only sign that corporate America has hit us at all is the presence of the ever-popular Dunkin' Donuts on Main Street. Other than that, Penworth is just small businesses.

Because of this, getting the latest and greatest in just about anything is hard, considering the nearest mall is about an hour and a half away, and many people aren't willing to make the drive. We don't have any Wal-Marts or Targets nearby, no Apple stores, nothing. We're a secluded little town, at least five years behind the rest of the nation, and while many people like it here, I feel trapped. Suffocated. It's only a matter of time before I burst, and, well...It's not going to be pretty.

~

When I arrived on the steps of the high school, my two only friends in the entire goddamn town were already waiting, one impatiently, the other happily as she scrolled through her phone. "Angel!" Percy notices me first, and she squeals, tackling me with a hug. We're outside in the courtyard, in our usual spot of under the old oak tree, and no one even bothers to so much as glance at us. It's a normal occurrence, Percy making noise-And lots of it. "I missed you all summer!" She declared next, releasing me in order to flash her arm in my face. "See that, Mr. Ghostie? While in Florida, I got a tan." I poked out my tongue, pouting.