We pulled up to the rickety old house, and despite the sea of melancholy that had engulfed me lately, I felt a twinge of excitement. The house was neither new nor luxurious, but it was more than I had anticipated.
We had moved from California, where we lived in a two-bedroom apartment in the worst part of town. Walking to work each day had become a constant nightmare. While I was thankful for the move, I couldn't help but expect the worst.
I've been living with my mother and her husband for three years now, and saying I hate it is an understatement. I was raised by my amazing grandmother for most of my life until she passed away a few years ago. My mother, who insists I call her Lauren as if I'm some stranger she found on the street, was the only relative left to take me in.
Lauren and I have a non-existent relationship: she pretends I don't exist, and I stay out of her way. The real issue is her husband, Darren, who drinks far too much and becomes a complete asshole when he does. I keep my distance from him when he's been hitting the bottle too hard.
We moved to Georgia because Lauren got a job offer. Darren can hardly hold a job, so Lauren pays most of the bills. Typically, I work part-time and use my earnings to buy the necessities Lauren refuses to provide.
The new house was much bigger than I had expected, with chipped white paint and a crooked porch jutting out from the front. The only thing I looked forward to in this cross-country move was finally having my own bedroom. In California, my "bedroom" was the unused dining room blocked off by a curtain, as Darren insisted he needed the second bedroom as an office.
I climbed out of the car, stretched, and slung my backpack over my shoulder as I walked to the front porch. I could hear Lauren and Darren already arguing, but I had learned to tune them out successfully. The front porch creaked under my feet, but I didn't mind. Darren only ever stepped outside to run to the liquor store, so I would have plenty of time to myself on the porch.
Lauren opened the front door, and I followed her inside behind Darren. Without wasting any time, I headed upstairs to my bedroom.
"The smallest room, Sophia. Don't forget it," Lauren reminded me, not that I could.
I was instantly grateful to find a bathroom close to my bedroom. I smiled when I peeked into Lauren and Darren’s room and saw they had their own connected bathroom, which meant Darren would leave me alone for a change. He had a habit of pushing boundaries when he was drunk, but he was easy to escape when intoxicated.
I walked into my bedroom and surveyed the peeling paint on the walls. Once I found a job, I could make this room more presentable. I had saved up a small fund since I was old enough to work. While I was a straight-A student, I needed a backup plan in case I didn't get a scholarship. Escaping this place the moment I turned eighteen was always on my mind.
I dropped my backpack on the floor and looked around. The room was small but had a working door and four walls. A rickety queen-sized bed sat against the far wall, along with a dusty oak dresser. I ran downstairs and grabbed my large suitcase from the trunk of Lauren’s car, struggling under its weight. Lauren and Darren were still arguing, giving me plenty of time to wrestle my suitcase to the top of the stairs.
Everything I needed fit comfortably in my suitcase. I didn't have many clothes, but I had grown used to that sad fact.
I stuffed my clothes into the dusty dresser, pulling out an outfit for school tomorrow. Lauren had wasted no time enrolling me at the local public school, anything to get me out of the house and out of Darren’s thinning hair. I stuffed my debit card in my back pocket and ran downstairs. Lauren had her back turned, bickering at Darren as he set up the small TV in the living room.
"Where do you think you're going?" Lauren snapped, turning to face me as I opened the front door. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. She never cared where I went before.
"I'm gonna find something for dinner," I shrugged. I had stopped eating dinners with Lauren and Darren long ago. Since the court made Lauren my legal guardian until I turned eighteen, I refused to give her any of the money I worked for, supporting myself to the best of my ability.
"Get me a six-pack while you're out," Darren snapped, his beady eyes narrowing at the TV. I gritted my teeth. "I'm seventeen," I retorted, turning on my heel and walking out the front door, ignoring Darren’s mumbling.
I stepped onto the main road, sighing. I had no idea where I was going. After a moment, I decided to go right, hoping to find a gas station for a bag of chips and a bottle of water.
After walking for about fifteen minutes, I sighed with relief when a small corner store came into view. That was one thing I'd miss about California. There, you could walk in any direction and find a gas station or grocery store.
Inside the poorly lit corner store, I greeted the cashier, a girl not much older than me. I grabbed a bag of chips, a couple of bottles of water, and a granola bar, then walked to the register.
"Hi, do you know where Waltzlake High School is?" I asked as I swiped my debit card. The girl, with jet-black hair streaked with green, nodded. "Just follow this road until you reach the traffic light and turn left. You won't miss it."
"Thanks," I smiled, taking my receipt.
"New around here?" she asked, smirking.
"That obvious?" I chuckled.
The girl nodded. "Town's pretty small. Most people live further out in the woods."
"Why not just live in town?" I asked, furrowing my brows.
"People around here like their privacy," she shrugged.
I left the corner store feeling confused and wary. Her words didn’t give me much hope for school tomorrow. If this town was as small as she implied, I wouldn't go unnoticed. With only one more year left of high school, my goal was to escape Lauren and Darren the moment I turned eighteen.
I woke up to the sound of my old alarm clock. It was six in the morning, leaving me plenty of time to get ready and walk to school. Lauren would already be at work, and Darren typically slept in until 11 a.m. or later. I crept out of my bedroom and into the bathroom, making as little noise as possible. Darren was an absolute nightmare if you woke him up.
I combed my long chocolate brown hair, noting how different it was from Lauren family's light blonde hair. My heterochromia made me stand out even more, with one eye an incredibly light blue and the other a deep chocolate brown. My grandma rarely spoke of my father, but when she did, she mentioned he had the same condition. I suspected this was why Lauren, my own mother, didn't like me. Something bad had happened between her and my father, resulting in him leaving us.
Every month, Grandma received a mysterious check written out for me, but since moving in with Lauren, she used them for herself and Darren. I looked in the mirror and frowned, feeling like a walking abnormality. At my old school, I had friends, but there were always bullies who mocked my condition. It took a long time to accept and find beauty in my uniqueness.
I slipped on a simple outfit—skinny jeans, a white tank top, and a black jacket—to blend in. Grabbing a granola bar, I left the house and walked to school, following the girl's instructions. By the time I arrived, the parking lot was nearly full. Students hopped out of their cars, heading to the front doors, conversations filling the air.
I merged into the crowd, trying to blend in, and made my first stop at the office, easily identifiable by a large sign hanging from the ceiling. A plump woman in a purple sweater greeted me with a smile. "Are you new here?"
I nodded and gave her a small smile. "Sophia Drake."
"Beautiful name," she said, rifling through papers. "Here you are, Ms. Sophia."
"Thank you," I replied, taking the papers and turning to leave. As I looked down at my class schedule, I slammed into someone.
It felt like hitting a brick wall, but the strong smell of cologne indicated otherwise. I landed on the floor with a thud, and the hallway quickly quieted. Looking up, I saw two very large, very angry twins. They looked like they belonged on a magazine cover rather than at a high school.
