Actual Me

Chapter One

I was trembling over the thought of my father's death. I kept asking my mother the same question I asked her every day, but this time even more frustrated and disgusted, "Why did he have to be so dumb and drive drunk, like what the hell was he thinking, oh that's right he wasn't. I guess this is what he deserves after all he's put us through!"

There was no response besides a slight tear streaming down my mom's inflamed cheeks. She had clearly been crying for days, which is shocking to me because of how awful my father was to us. She is taking this a lot harder than I had expected.

I usually study my mother's face when I ask the question and each time it is the same dejected face, mournful and forlorn.

In our house with five bedrooms, four bathrooms, and a shed filled with my father's old working equipment, it was about time to hear my mother tell Ada and me to come to the dining room. We sat down in our usual spots, except the head of the table was empty.

After a couple of minutes, our mother told us hesitantly with a sigh, "It's time to move, I am hoping to find a place in Hendersonville, North Carolina, up in the mountains, to live. I was just offered an amazing job, with great pay."

I knew this was going to be hard on Ada, my younger sister, because she had just made a lot of friends, unlike me, I have no friends...maybe I could make some.

I couldn't help but notice Ada biting back her tears. She says in a shaky voice, "First, dad dies, and now we have to move...What's next?"

There was no response, again.

A couple of minutes later, my mother breaks the tension of the silence saying, "I'm sorry, Ada, but we have to. I was offered a really good job up there and I can't stay in this house any longer,"

I know Ada is hurt but I agree with my mom, this is for the best.

I went up to my room and put on some music from The Fray, and began to clean up my room. Thank god it was summer or I would have actually died.

*3 months later*

I was dashing out of my room and into my new closet hoping to find an outfit. I'm not really the type of person that cares about the first day of school outfits, but for some reason, I care now.

After what seemed like forever, I finally found an outfit that was black leggings, a black T-shirt, and a ripped jean jacket.

I packed my bag and headed out the door. Just before I got in my car, I realized that I had forgotten to tie my shoelaces, so I leaned down to tie them, but my pants ripped "shit" I say under my breath...Well, this is a great start to my first day.

I went inside to put on new pants, they were ripped jeans that were slightly distressed.

Once I got in my car, I headed to school. I still have no idea how to get there, so I use my phone for directions.

I should have already known how to get to my own school considering I've been in Hendersonville the whole summer.

When I got to the school's parking lot I was breathing heavy and my nerves washed over my whole body.

I walked inside trying not to show that I was nervous, but I was clearly not doing a good job at that considering my breathing keeps getting heavier and heavier and my anxiety is taking over me...am I going to have an anxiety attack?

I look around the hall anxiously, but no one was paying attention to me, thank god.

I saw a guy sitting in the corner of the hallway, alone, wearing a flannel unbuttoned, revealing a white T-shirt underneath and some black skinny jeans.

I didn't know where the locker room was for PE, and I wouldn't dare ask him, but he was the only one alone, and not talking to anyone, so I anxiously walked up to him.

"Uh...do you.... do you know where the locker room is?" I stutter, clearly showing that my nerves were overpowering me.

His blue-green eyes just look into mine, and there is no response. I asked again but this time louder, he chuckled to himself, then looked down to his drawing, which was of a girl trapped inside a lock... no wonder no one is with him.

I begin to walk away.

"I won't tell you unless you tell me your name," He says, surprising me with his English accent, unlike all the other people here with southern accents.

It makes me think of my father and how he used to yell in that very same accent.

My thoughts were interrupted by a deep voice that was clearly stoned yelling, "Jax!" across the hall.

He turns his head and closes his sketchbook quickly. "Scarlett is my name. But most people just call me Scar," He looks up at me and says, "It's down the hall to your left."

"Thanks," He lifted his head up to me and opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but instead he got up to walk over to the group of people that the guy that yelled his name is with.

They were dressed like him, and the girls were barely wearing any clothes, clearly seeking the attention of men, which they got.

Jax...I guess that is his name, wraps his arm around one of them and she says in a raspy voice, indicating that she smoked, "Who was that you were talking to?"

He looked at me for a brief moment then said, "Some girl named Scarlett or maybe Charlotte, I don't know what the hell her name is,"

The girl gives me the "full-body" look, not having a care in the world if I noticed. Then whispers to the girl beside her, and they both start laughing, making me even more uncomfortable.

Of course, these people are his friends.
(I will try to post every other day or whenever I have free time. I hope you enjoy reading. Sorry if there are any typos I am writing on my phone...stupid auto correct <3)