“Telephones?” I scoffed. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about!”
In my frustration, I threw my phone forward between the two front seats, and it hit the windshield. I immediately regretted it, of course, and my father spun around in his seat to reinforce his authority when, out of nowhere, I saw blinding lights block my vision.
In some evil twist of fate, a truck veered into our car. It felt like slow motion.
The details are blurry, and I often think about them from the outside, as if I’m standing on the side of the road watching and not inside the car at all.
I never heard one word from either of my parents again. Only the sound of metal screeching and the loudest bang that made my ears ring. Everything went black, and I could feel warmth flowing all down my head and face.
Blood.
My parents’ and my blood.
My knees were crushed beneath my seat.
Our car spun out of control, and I found myself lying across my mother, as I had done when I was a child. It was as if somehow, she had tried to save me. I could smell the soap she used; it had always comforted me but from this moment onward, it would become a trigger for pain. Lying across her broken arms, I hoped I would die.
I closed my eyes, trying not to breathe. If I could just stop breathing, this nightmare would end.
My father would surely leave me behind at the pearly white gates and send me down to hell.
I deserved to go to hell and burn.
I killed my parents that night. And in a way, I killed myself too.
Only, I had to continue to walk the earth as the pissed-off empty shell that I am.
So I burn things. Letterboxes, fences, small bugs, my hair, and, more recently, my school gym.
I guess you’d call that a cry for help.
And now, I’ve been given one last chance to prove I can behave in society by being placed with my aunt and uncle, who are sending me to a new school where no one knows anything about my past.
The first day of school is like being put in a group assignment with a bunch of morons.
I’ve walked half an hour in new shoes to get here, so most of my anxiety has settled in my blistered feet. I’m an observer; I like to watch and remain passive unless someone rattles me, then my response is like a catfight on a fence.
I have my earbuds in, pretending to listen to music so I don’t have to interact with anyone or make small talk. I’m watching people go by and giving them all a soundtrack to the way they move.
High school jock—blond, broad shoulders, square jaw—walks down the hall with his head turned to the side to see who is staring at him. His track is “Watermelon Sugar” by Harry Styles.
As he walks past the lockers, girls spin around to say “hi” every time the song hits watermelon sugar ‘high.’
Then there are gangsters—groups of guys who wish they were living in the hood but really go home to Daddy’s mansion while their mom prepares their lunch for the next day. They push their uniform pants down super low and cock their ties to the side.
They walk like they’re carrying a week of shopping in both pockets, and all I’m hearing is the song “Fuck Tha Police.”
I start laughing, and I’m suddenly aware of a body standing way too close to me.
“Care to share?”
Turning, I don’t know if this is fate or bad luck, but standing before me is the guy from last night. He looks different in a uniform, but I wouldn’t forget those piercing eyes.
It takes a lot to shock me, but what the actual fuck?
Last night, I wasn’t expecting to run into anyone, let alone a guy who looks like Jacob Elordi and Superman had a baby. Jet-black hair and golden eyes stab at my senses, but it’s not just his good looks that get me. It’s the fact that underneath all that, I sense something…more.
Our meeting was far from what most would call normal, but the moment between us, me standing in my bunny suit and him skulking in the shadows, was normal to us.
However, I have the best poker face you’ve ever seen. My walls are high, so good luck getting over them.
I can hear him clearly, but pretend my music is too loud.
“Huh?” I respond without taking my earbuds out.
A slanted smirk spreads from cheek to cheek, revealing he doesn’t buy my story. Smart and attractive—it doesn’t seem fair.
The bell rings, and I’m shuffled through the crowd toward my first class.
“Good morning, everyone. Take your seats! Take your seats!” shrieks a small woman wearing pumps and a cardigan draped over E cups.
Every schoolboy’s wet dream, I’m sure.
I wonder if tall, dark, and annoying has paid her a visit yet. I’m sure he came out of a woman’s house last night. He had pink lipstick on his neck and smelled of expensive perfume.
I take a seat next to the window and watch the teacher banging her hand on the table. The room smells like leather shoes and hairspray. I put my head down and pretend to be busy with something. The principal of the school enters the room and addresses the class.
“Students. Your regular teacher, Mrs. Jamieson, will be on leave due to a personal emergency involving a house fire. To quash any rumors that may arise, she is safe and in good health.
“Miss Knox will be taking over until further notice. Please give her your attention and respect. Over to you.” He nods toward her breasts and leaves the room.
House fire? Please.
It was one fucking rose bush…and an ugly one at that.
My cheeks suddenly heat, and on instinct, I turn over my shoulder discreetly to see him slouched back in his seat, watching me with those insightful eyes. He doesn’t shy away from openly staring at me from under his disheveled hair, which pisses me off. Even though he is privy to my secret, that doesn’t mean we’re going to bond.
Besides, I’m sure he has secrets of his own, like whoever’s house he was creeping out of last night.
He is the epitome of a “bad boy,” and I’m pretty sure all the girls at this school secretly have a crush on him. They would never admit it, though, because he’s the arty weirdo who would leave dirty Polaroids in your locker just for fun.
He crosses his ankles and leans farther back in his chair, unfazed by anything, as Miss Knox hands out a pop quiz to the class. All the guys are ogling her indiscreetly but not him. He merely yawns when she places his quiz on his table, facedown, not interested as she all but shoves her E cups into his face.
I can’t help but snicker as I turn back around, but it’s too late as Miss Knox has caught me laughing at her expense.
“We have a new student, class,” she says, drawing attention to me like the bitch she is. She places the quiz on my table and smiles sweetly. “How about you tell the class a little about yourself?”
“How about not,” I mumble under my breath but stand reluctantly.
She gestures that I’m to stand in front of the class, like I’m giving a Noble Prize speech or something.
With a sigh, I hold my head high and pass the rows of pupils who look at the new girl with interest, distaste, and boredom.
I don’t cower because, like sharks circling their prey, they will strike if they smell a wounded animal. And I don’t intend on being anyone’s prey.
“Hi,” I start, refusing to look at the one familiar face that makes my body burn. “My name is Darcie. And I transferred to this shithole from Declan Valley High School.”