Star-Crossed

CHAPTER ONE.

SKY

Bullying was nothing like they portrayed in movies. It was so far from reality, and no where near close from what I experienced in New York.

Prior to being bullied, watching those movies somehow made me feel like I understood the victims but it was not until I actually became one that I understood.

Eleventh grade of high school was a complete nightmare; having to strive not too stand out too much in order for people to not notice me. I had four friends from the beginning of kindergarten to starting high school, until each one of them decided to dump me to get along with the cool kids. I was the bullied girl of Willow Creek High School. Every single word they said to me weakened me little by little. Everyday I walked into school, I would tell myself that today would be a little better than yesterday, but I was always, always, wrong.

This summer, my parents decided that it was best for me to move to Santa Barbara, where my mother and my step dad lived, for my senior year.

Which takes me to right now: in my little bedroom, deciding whether or not to take the pictures that hurt me like a ton of bricks.

As I was looking down at the picture of my old friends and I during freshman year, I heard my bedroom door open and sat up from my bed.

"Are you ready?" My father asked me, reeling me out of my thoughts.

The sadness I had for leaving my home was trapped with me inside. Along with the despair and the pain. I grew up in New York. It was my home. Was my home. The students at school definitely took that from me. It hurt me less and less by time, because I kept telling myself that this is what I needed to do.

I had to go.

"I'll be down in a second."

Every time I stared at it, I thought back of all the unforgettable moments I had with my best friends. It also brought me sadness because that was all before my life switched from completely joyful to horrible.

Thinking of it now, it was impossible for them to have been my real friends. They joined the others and made my life horrible. We were quite close before that though. We did gymnastics together in preschool and competed in cheerleading as children until sophomore year of high school, where I dropped out.

The only good thing I got out of my downfall, was the passion I found in sketching. Sketching was somehow an escape from my normal life, and you could find my nose in a sketchbook for hours everyday.

After about ten minutes, I walked down the stairs with my one large suitcase to meet my dad and put it in the trunk before starting to drive off.

I felt my eyes burn as I looked out the window, looking at the neighbourhood I grew up in vanish in my sight.

Goodbye New York, Hello California.

* * *

After a five hour flight and an hour long ride to my new home, I finally arrived and spotted my mother and Mark standing outside of the home. It was a beautiful big home with the beach nearby, and even a pool in the backyard. It had five bedrooms with a bathroom attached to each. It was all unnecessary as Mark never had any children or anything of the sort.

I got out of the car and smiled at my mom as she ran to hug me.

The last time I saw her was Christmas of last year, when I came here to visit like I did every year.

Her beauty was unattainable, there was nobody as beautiful as her. She was tall, standing at five-foot-ten but wore heels that easily made her above six feet, had very dark skin and a skinny frame. Her kinky hair was at waist length and smelled of roses. She was from Uganda where she met my father who was on a work trip from the Islands, and just like everyone else, fell in love with her for her beauty.