Chapter 2
I spent the rest of the morning aimlessly wandering around our little town. I watched as slowly, the lights in all the houses flickered on and sleepy shadows walked down to their kitchens to feed their hungry children. By the time I snapped out of my thoughts, traffic was dribbling through the streets and the front doors spat out clean, fed and dressed people bumbling through their daily activities. My time of the day disapeared as gently and effortlessly as the sun rrose and I carried on my way to school, walking without purpose in the general direction of where I needed to be. One of the things I did remember though, one of the things I liked best about mornings was that, though the day might seem pointless and tiresome, there would always be another morning at the exact same time the next day. I liked that about the morning : it was always there without exception. I just wished people were more like mornings. Reliable, forgiving and constantly renewing. But no person could give a new beginning like the start of a new day could.
I got to school around 8:30, thirty minutes before the first bell. I slowly wandered through the deserted halls to my locker, crossing a lonley student with the contents of his locker sprawled out on the floor (as well as his limbs) and two teachers who quickly brushed past me with eager footsteps, quieting their conversation to a few inaudible murmurs and averting their eyes to the tiled floor.
I still affected me the way people never seemed to want to spend more time then requiered in my presence, maybe even less, but not because I cared about what others thought of me, I had long gone numb to their opinions. Rather, it was the simple fact that I would never be just Avery Hall, student and resident of this shitty little town. I would always, as long as I stood within the confines of Crestfield, Ontario, be that girl that was related to that unspeakable thing that happened here. I was almost like Voldermort around here, only with a nose and without magic stuff. I also wasn't a villain, contrary to popular belief. At least I didn't consider myself to be doing any particularly great deeds of evil.
I had always wanted to move to the city. I had never really cared which one, but something big, someplace you could get lost and just be nobody. Like London, New York, Tokyo, even Montreal. I had aalways wanted to live somewhere where everybody you met was a total stranger and knew absolutley nothing about you. I could re-invent myself, get a job, an appartement, live on my own and surround myself with aliens who would never have to know about what might have happened to me before the moment we met and would never know me as anything more than Avery with the red hair.
I could die my hair, too brown, maybe a dark shade, because red hair seemed to distinctive. Get a tan too, or at least a little burn. My skin seemed to glow an unatural ghostly white that had a tendency to stand out in a crowd. People used to tell me, before they started running away, that I was lucky to have hair the colour it was and skin that made it look even brighter. My mom's hairdresser used to die her hair ginger and try to make it look natural. I used to be proud of my hair and would flaunt it around like a proud seven year old would anything that got them comments or attention. But things where different now and my hair did nothing more than seperate the gap. A gap I would do anything to close around me and hide in,
