cast l.h

week one part two

I walk behind the large group of over-excited parents and fellow eye-rolling freshman along the University's small campus.

The small streets are packed with the various groups of students and family attending the Freshman orientation.

Now, this University is not NYU but it seems alright.

The simple fact that I was even here and attending an actual school was good enough. Not only that but now my Aunt has told me she'll pay me for the work I put into the planned Bed & Breakfast our family plantation house is being turned into.

I am determined to succeed here; thinking back to my high school years I was definitely not a refrigerator magnet worthy student. But after all I have experienced I realize how stupid and immature I was.

This time around I will be different. I will focus on my goals. What are my goals though?

I stare at the thin color-coded map I hold in my hands. My eyes follow the orientation advisor's body, a short plump blonde girl who's name I can't remember, she points in several directions explaining each building's purpose.

A tall Native American looking girl raises her hand and asks, "Which direction is the student gym?"

The advisor responds by pointing somewhere I don't see but the girl just nods. She walks next to me and her long strides make me feel inferior. Her long straight hair whips back and forth.

When our group stops she turns towards me and extends her hand, "Hi, I'm Luya." I shyly smile and shake her hand.

"I'm Izzy." I respond.

"I really like your necklace."

I reach up to touch the warm sterling silver locket that hangs around my neck. I gently sweep my fingers over the smooth surface, tracing my index around the curved edges, "Thank you."

Our group reaches the student cafeteria and Luya and I sit and eat together, mostly in silence which I like and I think she does too.

I learn that she plays Volleyball for the school. I tell her I don't do much but work, I like how she doesn't pry into my private thoughts like most girls I've met try to do.

We spend the rest of the tour together, her mostly talking about the upcoming school year and me adding in comments every now and then; the way I like conversation with strangers.

After the orientation I decide to go pick up a few weather friendly clothing pieces from a store my aunt told me about downtown.

I am a casual girl, I hardly ever wear anything more glamorous than a pair of black leggings and a tank top, so I figure this plain looking store will suffice.

When I enter, the cold air-conditioning hits me in the face sending my skin into over drive goosebumps. All the walls are white and covered in an array of light up signs. I trace my small fingers over the material neatly folded in piles; every now and then picking up an item to try on.

By the time I reach the back of the store I overhear a hushed conversation, ¨NO!" the small red headed employee shouts into her phone ¨You promised you'd get me 2 grams for 20 bucks and now you're increasing our agreement.¨

I can't help but analyze this in my head, if she was really getting 2 grams of weed for that price, that's a pretty good deal.

No Izzy stop thinking like that, my conscious shouts you are not that person anymore.

I drag myself away from the woman and linger near the locked dressing room stalls. Within a minute or so the red-head with the name tag ¨Henny¨ offers to open one for me.

I quickly pull on and off the clothing items, not particularly interested in how nice they looked, more of how they fit. I end up keeping various colored v-neck t-shirts, a white tank top, and some jeans, nothing fancy.

When I go to ring up the clothes Henny looks to be in a better mood.

¨So how's it going, are you liking Savannah?¨ She asks while disassembling the security tags on the clothes.

¨It's alright, how do you know I'm not from here? ¨ I mumble awkwardly picking at my cuticles.

¨Well to begin with you don't have an accent. But if you ever need someone to show you around call me¨ She laughs and hands me the clothes and her phone number written on the bottom of my receipt.

I furrow my eyebrows and say thanks, wondering why it was ¨obvious¨. On my walk back to the old pickup truck that I was lended, I realize that this moment is the first time since last year I was free.

I could eat whatever I wanted.

I could buy whatever I wanted.

I could look and sit where I wanted.

This is incredible.

It's about 6 pm and the sun is just beginning to set. I get in my car and begin to drive back to the plantation.

This large house was on the very outskirts of the town and quite the long drive. Theres beautiful ocean views at the beginning that turn into forest covered back roads trailing along acres and acres of empty forests.

As I hit the last of the long winding roads my car lurches forward then stalls repeatedly. A strange smell enters through the old air conditioning system. Finally I decide to pull over. ¨Shit!¨ I yell in frustration, slamming my palms against the worn out steering wheel.

Just my luck.

I don't even have a cellphone of my own yet and I am stranded in the middle of a scarcely used backroad. I climb down from the lifted truck and scavenge for some tools, only to find old McDonalds wrappers under the seats, a hammer, and a wrench.

I drag my incredibly pissed off self to the smoking engine and prop the hood open. The heavy smoke fills my lungs almost immediately and I can practically taste how old and broken this truck is.

I look at all the connected parts and wires and try to recall what I'd been taught about a car's engine ... yet to no prevail.

It's twilight now, and the stars look like freckles in the dim sky.

I decide there is no way out of this bad situation alone. The outcomes are quite predictable in my conscious. I steal a horse from this overlooking pasture or I get kidnapped and murdered. Most likely the 2nd one, because I don't know how to get on a horse.

I open the bed of the truck and shake out an old quilt sitting in the container box. I lie it out and lay down looking at the stars.

How did I end up here? I feel like I don't even know myself anymore, but yet again, did I ever know who I was.

I fall in and out of complete awareness and lose track of how long I've been here. At approximately 8p.m (according to the old radio on the dash), I hear a faint hum from the distance. The rock music emanating from the nice pick-up truck drives right by, giving no attention to the smoking car on the side of the narrow road.

Classic.

I run to the drivers seat while the car is still in view and begin flashing my brights trying to get this person to turn their ass around and help me. Just when I think it didn't work, the truck makes an effortless u-turn back my way.