The Bird That Couldn't Sing (GBFF)

Chapter 27 - Sang

"Sang, if you don't get your little, slut self down here in the next minute, I swear you'll regret it!" My stepmother's voice screeches from downstairs.

Rolling my eyes, unable to call a reply, I swiftly slide on my sandals and grab my notebook and pen, knowing I'll most likely need it later. And I rush down the stairs. Thankfully, last night, Katherine never realized I snuck in and Marie never found out, so I returned without a punishment waiting for me. Thank God.

When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I see my father, Katherine, and Marie waiting for me, the latters sporting deep scowls and piercing eyes at my form. I'm wearing a light grey pleated skirt with a light pink blouse tucked in. And my hair is pulled back in a clip, pieces out and framing my face.

I don't bother smiling or even looking them in the eyes--especially my stepmother--as she thinks it's disrespectful and will surely give me a punishment for it. "Finally, I thought you'd never come down. Next time don't take so long or there will be a severe punishment. Your father doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Even if I could, I wouldn't dare say that the only reason I took forever was because she had me up and cleaning the house since seven in the morning, when she woke up, and I only finished about ten minutes ago. That's all the time I really need to get ready, anyway. Whereas it takes Marie at least two hours because every time she leaves the house, she finds it necessary to cake herself in enough makeup to cover an entire elephant in foundation--or whatever that stuff is called. And I wouldn't judge her if it weren't for the fact that she was already naturally pretty.

Instead I nod and my father huffs, "Okay, if we're done with this pointless banter, I'd like to leave and get this thing over with. Those stupid bastards thought it would be a good idea to make this scheduling thing at four in the late afternoon when some people have to work."

My sister and I both nod, following him out to the not-so nice looking car, and she throws me a glare over her shoulder before shoving me to get the the front seat, as if I'd steal it from her. What she doesn't realize is I know better than to fight with her, as she could easily tell her mother and get me in trouble. Besides, I like the backseat; it's as far as I can get away from the both of them in such a cramped space. Why would I want to sit so close to them if I don't have to? I wouldn't, that's why.

It's a short drive to the school I've only just been informed the name of: Ashley Waters. Sounds nice enough, right? Wrong.

I've never actually gone to a real school before, but I've certainly seen multiple high schools before. And of all I've ever seen, this has to be--not to be mean or judgmental--the ugliest.

The building is two stories, brown, dreary, and dull, having no windows except for a handful along the second floor. The grounds are flat, with only a handful of trees along the border of the school grounds. Square hedges are growing along the outside walls between sets of doors. The hedges look like they need some serious rainfall, as they look more dry and dead than the Mojave Desert. There is a football practice area off to the left, a baseball diamond and some tennis courts beyond it. Each is well worn with holes in the mesh guards, and the benches look warped and very much used.

Beyond that, I can see many trailers. The number of them amazes me. There's at least thirty and they extend out from the school. I briefly wonder how anyone possibly manages to get from one of those trailers to the classes inside on time. And I also wonder what this means for us students in the winter or rainy season. Though I don't know much about the South Carolinian weather, as I haven't lived here very long.

The parking lot is completely packed with vehicles. I can see some kids mingling with a few of their friends already, most likely not having seen them over the summer, and they just ran in to each other. It takes my father about five minutes to find a parking spot, but when he does, Marie rushes out; my father and I follow her out with less haste.