Just Love Me Once Again

Page 2

Twelve months earlier.

Trixie.

"So how are you, Miss Beatrice?" Mrs. Wilson Westside Senior High school's principal asked me, shoving a stack of files to the side of her cluttered desk.

"My father is dead, I hate my mother, and my stepfather is a control freak. And call me Trixie."

That's how I would have loved to answer her question, but instead, I took a deep breath and said, "Fine."

She nodded her head and hummed when she found my two-inch-thick transfer file.

In between flipping the pages of my file and taking a sip of her coffee, which must be cold sitting on her desk for fifteen minutes, she asked," Don't you love January? New year, new month, a new state to start over."

My stepfather was continuously checking his watch. While looking at my irritated stepfather I, replied Mrs. Wilson with a nod.

" Beatrice, your marks are in English are good, but you are below average in Math and Science. To get an admission in a reputed college, you have to put more effort into this." She said, looking at my stepfather, trying to get his attention.

"Don't worry, I will keep this in mind and will catch up," I said to her.

Ignoring my answer, Mrs. Wilson took her phone out of her desk drawer and called someone.

"Yes, yes. Meet me in the office after class. Thank you." She disconnected the call and gave me a sincere smile, exposing all her teeth.

"Caleb will be assisting you with your Math and Science subject. He is our best student here. And a sweet boy, always ready to help." She went on praising that boy.

I didn't care to ask about who the hell is Caleb.

My stepfather knocked on the desk interrupting Mrs. Wilson, "If all the formalities are over, I have an Office to handle."

"Yes, Mr. Robert. We are good to go. I will contact you if any further signatures are required." Mrs. Wilson said, stacking all my papers in the file.

Without saying goodbyes, my stepfather left the principal's office.

"Miss Beatrice, you can go to the class now." She sympathetically looked at me and welcomed me to her school.

Smiling at her, I took my bag and went outside the school.

I hate this place, and you call this a school, it's a dump yard.

I sat on one of the benches and scrolled my phone. There it is, my group photo of my best friends and Steve, I miss New York.