W.i.c.k.e.d

W.i.c.k.e.d 

Chapter One

          Today is the first day of school—the first day in one-hundred-eighty more of potential hell.

          I have practically dragged myself out of bed and crossed my room, cringing at the sharp coolness of the wood flooring. Looking into the mirror is a negative. My hair is knotted and tangled to the point where the thought of even attempting at a simple comb-through is utterly absurd. Even as I study my appearance in the mirror and note the deadness I find in just my expression alone, I find absolutely no reason behind it. Today would be the start of a new year! My brother would be attending Blackwood University and not only would he be closer to his ‘goal’, but he’d also be living the fraternity life.

          Jealous.

          How else was I expected to feel when everything seemed to be going so perfectly for him? He was off to truly start his life and here I was, trapped in a house with my parents who never slept in the same bed anymore—in an educational establishment that taught us all ‘morals’ and ‘principles’ that we’d ‘need later in life to ‘better ourselves as individuals’.  So far as I was concerned, I was deprived of all the joys that came with the stereotypical high school life you saw in movies that nearly everyone wished truly existed. A life just drenched in blissful ignorance and overdramatic individuals who viewed even the smallest mistake as instead a condemning action.

          Better yet, I’d have preferred to remain deprived. At least it was realistic, believable, easily rationalized. This way at least dreams were worth something. It is in my opinion better to fancy a dream than live in one. My parents had had far too much experience with that one. Living in a dream until the fantasy curtain came crashing down to reveal the brutality that was indeed reality. They’d learned their lesson, and I’d happily avoid being put through the same torture. At least for as long as I was able to.

          The usual morning routine was performed in mechanical fashion; taking a shower, brushing my teeth, washing my face, detangling the raptor’s nest that was my hair, dressing for the day, and making the trip down the stairs and into the kitchen. Today my choice of attire had been a red, silk oriental brocade halter top and a pair of Levi’s that did all too well to hug me where they should. It wasn’t necessarily breaking news to the population of Blackwood High that I had a figure absolutely to die for. Neither was it news to me. I knew what I had—what I did well to maintain with a strict diet and sufficient exercise in various forms.  Eleanore had  already been there, stood at the counter and smiling one of her genuine, dream-like smiles. It was a wonder she had even noticed my entrance as she’d seemed to be so far away these days.

          Perhaps someone had been keeping her well sated in the bedroom. That would’ve been my only guess for it as I glided across the room to fetch a glass for myself.

           “Good morning, Danielle.” My mother had placed before me my ‘gourmet’ lunch and flashed a smile. “Did you sleep well, hon?”

           “Yes, thank you.” My tone of voice sounded off even to me as I snagged my purse and messenger bag, noting the sound of what would be my boyfriend-of-two-years’ car.

          She must’ve realized, too, for all my mother’d said after that was for me to enjoy my first day. Like hell I would. It was all a lie. The first day was the ficklest of them all. Everyone you’d known for the last three years or longer pretending to care and flashing fake, cheesy-bright smiles at you. Hugging you for the first time ever and playing along when the two of you are positive you’d never so much as exchanged more than a few words. Everyone would be doing it, yes. Everyone except me—and Derik if he knew what was good for him. There would be hell to pay if I had to take initiative and literally smack the sense he’d lost back into him.