slowly fading memories | watty's2016

9

~ Holly Fisher ~ || One Year Ago ||

        I walked into the room, tossing my curls behind me and taking a deep breath before making my way to an empty seat.

        Slinging my purse onto the seat next to me, I crossed my legs and leaned back, acting as if I owned the class. A girl walked in, a tastefully patterned book bag dangling from one shoulder, with blonde ringlets tumbling down her back. She was wearing denim jeans, ripped at the knees, and a red and black plaid button down tied around her waist, with a white tank top and some brown ankle boots. She came over and smiled apologetically, looking down at the seat next to me, which currently held my stuff.

        "I hate to be rude," she said in an English accent, which was laced with hesitation, "but I was wondering if I could sit here? If not, it's fine, just the only other seat is next to Dirty Tom — and even if I'm new here, I've heard the rumors." She glanced over to the table diagonal from us, where the apparent, Dirty Tom was sitting. "And from what I see, they all seem to be true."

        I studied her for a second, mulling over what to do while she waited, hands flat on her thighs and eyebrows raised uncertainly, yet hopeful. Now that she was close, I could see her face better. She was pretty, with deep brown eyes hidden beneath a layer of thick, black lashes and crinkles around the edges of them as if she smiled a lot. Her lips were thin, but cutely glazed with pink gloss and she had two dimples on either side, which focused in on her high cheekbones and porcelain skin.

        "Sure," I said, moving my handbag for her to sit. She flashed me a relieved smile, and slid into the seat, dropping her books on the table and holding out a hand.

        "I'm Callie, new here from England. I just transferred," she said with a beam, showing me a full set of pearly white teeth that were unimaginably straight. The ends of my lips quirked up in habit; though my thoughts were laced with surprise and confusion. Most people wouldn't dare to try and introduce themselves so casually, considering I was pretty much the school's resident bitch. Baffled, I held out my own hand and she took it, shaking it thoroughly before releasing my grip and turning to retrieve a pencil from her books. I tried to figure out why a student here treated me so normally. Like I was just another one of them, a regular junior with a regular social status. It was kind of a comfort, a weight being removed from my chest. Around her, I didn't have to be the Wicked Witch of Westwood High. I could just be a typical teenage girl.

        I looked at Callie and she tilted her head inquisitively.

        "What's wrong?" She asked, voice intertwined with hesitance and concern.

        I smiled at her, relishing in the fact that I'd found a reprieve.

        "Nothing, Cal. Nothing's wrong." I looked at her with happiness, determined to forge a friendship and shield her from the reality of who I really was to everyone else.

        She grinned at the casual appellation, unable to see the turmoil happening in my head.

        "Good," she said, popping two little dimples when she grinned. I looked at her in confusion before realizing she was referring to when I'd told her everything was fine.

        As I was about to reply, the lights abruptly snapped off and the room was soon filled with gasps and disoriented questions. Chairs squealed sharply as people stood to investigate, or inquire with others about the sudden change. I didn't think the darkness was a big deal until one by one the hall lights shut down with whooshing, dull thuds to acknowledge their abrupt power decline. The room was obscured in black, as if someone had pulled the cord on the sun.