[Say hello to the start of something new. Please don't spam high school musical.

...

You're already doing it, oka—]

Chapter 1

All it took was a blinding light.

A circle. Two lines. One. Two. Burning hot like a  fresh branding iron. The sensation didn't last for very long, but its meaning has been singed right into my identity. Through muscle, through veins, through the bone itself right into the that crimson marrow. Since that single moment, since that blinding light, this circle and two lines have become one with me.

Dark eyes—nearly black—were all that stared back at me in awe, and I'm sure I returned the same look. I had thought he did this to me, but his grip on my wrist was only a catalyst. My chariot into the truth, into hope and despair.

A circle. Two lines. One. Two. They were bound to appear. Inevitable. Sempiternal.

A full circle that narrows and widens across the line. Expanding yet going nowhere. Two lines. One. Two.

One.

Two.

One.

"Ellie."

A low, quiet voice stirred me awake and for a second I couldn't recognize where I was. Looking up, I saw my dad looking down at me with a soft smile on his fair-toned face. Nudging my shoulder, he said, "If you're tired, you shouldn't be taking a snooze on the moving boxes like that. You'll get aches later."

I blinked at him for a moment, just a little confused. Then I finally responded with a simple nod of my head. Dad just chuckled and walked away to continue unpacking everything for the house. I'm sure Mom was somewhere around doing the same thing. It was just me, alone on my new bedroom floor, thinking about Dad's voice calling me out of my sleep, except it didn't remotely sound like Dad at all. Dad's voice isn't that deep, is it? But maybe my brain was being weird in the seconds before I woke up. Freaky.

With a sigh, I scoot myself away from the boxes I was dozing off against, then looked to the other boxes in the corner of my new room. My bed laid in the other corner opposite the door, no bedsheets or blankets on it yet, hell, not even a bed frame. I kind of like it on the floor though, it seems cool, though I'm sure Mom will complain about it if I leave it like that.

Groaning, I stretched and laid on my back, looking up at the white ceiling. Even though this ceiling and the ceiling of my old room back home surely are made of the same materials, this one is too foreign to me. I remember certain spots on my old bedroom ceiling—that one bump that juts out from the rest of the level surface, that one scratch from when Dad was trying to fix the ceiling fan, an old sticker I somehow stuck up there—and now I can't help but look for those same spots despite that they're not here, because it's a different ceiling, part of a different house, in a different sleepy town, in a different state far off from home. Everything different, foreign, and uncomfortable.

Then again, it's not as if our old home had anything to offer either. There's no one there that I'll miss. No one there that will miss me. After sixteen long years, nothing and no one ever stuck with me. People knew each other and I knew about them, and I knew of all the things that they knew about each other, but no one knew me back.

And yet, despite having no friends to miss and to miss me, I wanted to be back home. I didn't want this move ever since the news escaped my parents' mouths. It never dawned on me until I finally saw this new house, that I didn't want to be in a new place where no one would know me once again. I got used to the solitude back at home; it was familiar despite the emptiness. Now I have to endure a new state of that same feeling, and it terrifies me.

I don't want to be here on this floor, looking up at this ceiling. But there's no way we can go back home. Mom got a better job here after all. A new nurse at a well-established hospital. We're all happy about that. And even when I'm not really happy at all about our situation, I can't bring myself to not smile for my parents. "This is good for us," they told me. I'm sure it is. I just hate that it doesn't feel like it.

And before the stinging in my eyes from the threat of tears could overwhelm me, I huffed aloud and busied myself by unpacking my boxes. There's something strangely meditative about sorting and organizing things—so I've heard. I hope that applies for me right now. I could really use the mental distraction. And if I can keep being distracted for the rest of the day, the day after, the next day after that, the next week, the next month...that would be greatly appreciated.

...

First thing I woke up to was the smell of something burning. It didn't take me long to guess what the hell happened, especially because I could already hear Mom scolding, "Dammit, Louis, I just bought this kitchen set!"

Dad tried to make surprise breakfast again.

With a yawn, I sat up and stretched my arms. I kicked off my blanket and slipped out of bed, which was still on the floor, but at least the covers were on. I made my way downstairs where the smell of most-likely-burnt eggs intensified. There were still a few boxes here and there from the move a week ago. We got quite a lot done in the new house but there was still more work to be had.

In the kitchen, Mom was trying to scrape off whatever ungodly substance Dad had created on her new pans into the trash, while the culprit himself was desperately wafting junk mail in front of the smoke detector so it wouldn't go off.

"Already trying to burn this place down?" I spoke up.

Dad glanced at me and smiled wide. "Ellie-bear! Good morning!"

"Good morning, Ellie. So nice of you to come to your father's rescue," Mom hissed with a grin, still scraping.

With a slight smirk, I replied, "Not for long. I have school in forty minutes."

Dad scratched his head. "I was trying to make a good breakfast to celebrate your first day."

"Thanks, I love it," I retorted, eyeing the chemical experiment gone wrong falling into the trash.

"Yea? I made some adjustments to my usual recipe," he joked.

I nodded. "Ah yes, a pinch of burnt metal and a cup of Mom's death glares. Tasty."

Mom rolled her eyes playfully and said, "How about you have a special breakfast of delectable cereal? Louis?"

"My five star Froot Loops with creamy milk broth, of course!"

I grimaced. "Please, don't call it 'creamy milk broth', Dad."

"Right, right. Bet that makes you 'udderly' disgusted...!"

I just sighed while Dad nudged me and Mom was really close to smacking the pan against her head (and probably his too). Is it too late to go back to sleep?

After we made sure the house was definitely not going to be set on fire and I got myself a bowl of cereal, I went back upstairs to change for my first day at my new school. This school doesn't require uniforms so it was oddly difficult for me to pick out my clothes. After a few minutes spent twisting my lips and groaning, I was satisfied. I took a look into my full-length mirror hung on my door, ignoring the long crack down the side (courtesy of the movers, yay). My clothes looked fine. I think. I am wearing some new pants, but my sneakers are a bit worn and maybe my jacket is too baggy. Argh, what does it matter. This is fine. It's fine!

Downstairs, my dad was waiting for me by the front door. Unlike Mom, he doesn't have to work just yet so he was free to wear his pajamas all he wanted. He seemed pretty happy about it too.

With a big smile, he said, "Ready, Ellie-bear?"

"All set."

Mom came up tying her hair into a bun. "Ellie, you won't be cold in that jacket? It looks loose."

No, not the second guessing thoughts! Stop!

"I'm fine, mum, gotta go," I muttered quickly before my self-doubt could drag me back to my room. Dad followed me out jingling the car keys and that was that.

It takes 10 mins to drive from the house to my school. Dad had turned on his tunes on the radio, softly drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. Meanwhile, I sat beside him, trying to get my mind off of the queasy feeling beginning to stir in my stomach. I haven't felt this nervous in a long time.

"You alright there, bear?" Dad suddenly asked. It almost startled me.

"I'm okay," I answered quietly.

His smile was reassuring as he said, "Hey, things will be fine. This is a new little journey...!"

"The happy kind or the perilous kind?"

"Well," he murmured, "that's up to you. Look at things with a clear mind. You'll see things aren't as scary as you imagine."

"You seem more eager about me going to school than, well, me."

"Someone's gotta be the excited one in here. I'll be more than happy to switch roles whenever you're ready, bear."

I didn't respond after that, mostly because I couldn't come up with what to say next. Dad didn't mind though. He continued to quietly jam along to his music while I stared out the window, watching as we got closer to the school.

We got to the drop-off lane. I pulled my backpack onto my lap as we neared the front of the line. Before we reached it, Dad gestured for me to take his hand and I did. With a tender squeeze, he looked at me and said, "If you're feeling overwhelmed, just remember to breathe, like your mom taught you, okay? Take it easy."

I squeezed his hand back and nodded. That was all the confirmation he needed. He gave the side of my head a kiss before I stepped out of the car and onto the pavement. I waved as I walked away, then watched the car leave out of the corner of my eye. With that, Dad was off back to the house, and I was here to check out my first day at a new school.

To my dread, I suddenly found it hard to walk. My feet were planted to my spot and legs stiff. I gripped my backpack strap and inhaled deeply. C'mon, Ellie, you just got here. This is cool. This is totally chill. You're fine.

As I started walking, a guy passed by and said, "Yo, you've still got the pants tag on."

He was already gone when I twisted around to check and sure enough, the sticker tag was right there at the back of my leg. Scowling, I yanked it off and crumpled it in my hand.

Yeah, totally cool.

...

Since it was the first day, classes would mainly be introduction, so I heard. Our full schedules wouldn't start until the next day and rotation of classes would begin. For now we had to report to our homeroom classes. Mine was English language and arts (fitting). As soon as I entered, I went for the desk at the farthest corner. No front seats. I always hated being at the front. It feels so awkward having everyone behind you and I can't put my feet anywhere either. Mostly the feet thing. Oh god, I hope the teacher doesn't assign seats. Please don't let them assign seats.

Other students trickled in, set up their backpacks on the desks or by their feet. Everyone was either chatting or listening to their music on earphones. There was lots of conversations but I was able to deduce all of them; her summer vacation was bland, he got to go overseas to Europe, she dumped her boyfriend a week ago and he won't stop texting, he just got his driver's license, on and on and on. This is okay. Yeah.

Everything quieted down once the teacher blundered in holding a stack of paper, probably the class syllabus. "Sorry, everyone!" she announced. "Ol' printer in the lounge just wasn't cooperating. Welcome back to Memorial! Although I think I see a few new faces, so just welcome!"

My fists clenched underneath the desk, really hoping she wasn't exaggerating and I wasn't in fact the only new person here. Dear god...

"Alrighty, pass these down the row! Everyone gets a copy!" The middle-aged woman gave stacks of papers to the students in the front. Whispering and low chatter here and there among the soft sounds of paper rustling and flapping. I finally got my sheet and couldn't stop rubbing my thumbs against the surface. Nervous fidgeting, haha...

The next thirty minutes were spent going over the syllabus and other stuff about the course. I'll admit I zoned out for a bit, staring out the window or reading all the cheesy posters. Every English class has to have a poster with Garfield, it's like a strict law or something. And if it's not Garfield, it's Snoopy.

All of a sudden, I was yanked out of my daydreaming when the teacher chimed, "Let's do some quick introductions!"

Oh no, it's one of these. No!

"I know most of you already know each other," she added, "but we do have some new people, and I think it'll be nice to get acquainted! Let's start here."

She picks my row.

Fuck!

Okay, okay, think. There's six students in front of you. They'll probably take about 3 minutes or so to introduce themselves. That means you have about 18 minutes to come up with a quick response that you don't mess up. Just go over it in your head, no problem! My name is Elizabeth Umber. I'm a new student who just moved here. And done! My name is Elizabeth Umber. I'm a new student who just moved here—

"Okay, your turn in the back!"

WHAT. How the hell was that so quick?!  Or was I just taking too long to think? This isn't fair!

Before I could squeal and make a clown of myself, the door suddenly burst open and a boy rushed in. "A-Ah, I'm sorry I'm late! I ran into a cute dog on my way and I just couldn't not say hi! Security wasn't happy with me either!"

The teacher gaped at him and asked, "And you are...?"

The boy blew his tussled brown hair out of his face and grinned. "Ian Harris! I'm actually a new student. Solid first impression, huh?"

The teacher chuckled with an awkward smile. "S-Sure is. Go ahead and find a seat. We were just doing introductions. Perhaps you can continue it?"

Oh, thank goodness, this guy just unknowingly saved me a whole wad of panic.

The boy named Ian found an empty desk on the other side of the classroom and gladly continued with the class introductions. "Uh, hey, what's up? I'm Ian. Uh, you can call me Big Boss or Big Cheese if you want, that's what they call me back in Minnesota. Sometimes. Maybe sometimes. I'm still trying to get that ball rolling."

A few people snickered, some just rolled their eyes. He went on, "My interests include long walks on the beach and studying dark conspiracy theories on the internet. I'm also really into the STEM field. And sentient AI. And true crime documentaries. And rats."

The teacher couldn't help stuttering her words as she said, "W-Wow, that's an intense list of interests, Ian."

"If you want, I can show you the schematics I found of an atom bomb—."

"N-No, no, that's okay! M-Maybe after class," she interjected.

Despite getting shot down, Ian kept smiling and finally took his seat. I could almost see the teacher restraining a sigh of relief. Solid first impression indeed.

"Okay," she started, "I think we left off on...you there in the back!"

She pointed at me and I felt my heart drop into my gut. Damn, I thought I was off the hook!

Reluctantly, I stood up from my desk and twiddled my fingers in front of me. Everyone turned their heads to see me and I had to fight the urge to flinch away into the corner. All these new eyes, these new faces, they're clouding up my mind. Brown eyes, blue eyes, dark and green. I don't like this. I really don't like this!

"Don't be shy now," the teacher beamed.

I wish I was just "shy". This isn't being shy. This is panicking. What was I even telling myself earlier? What did I plan to say? Do I have to tell my interests? How do I start? What...What's my name?!

No, it'll be alright. Just breathe, like Mom and Dad always tell you. What do they say again? God...!

"Um," the teacher hummed, "are you alri—?"

"Ellie-bear!" I blurted out. And there goes my heart from my gut crashing down all the way into the floor beneath my feet. Some of the students giggled and smirked at me and to each other. No, no, no! This is not fine!

"Ellie-bear...?"

"No!" I exclaimed again, then cleared my voice. "Th-That's not my actual name. Um, m-my name... M-My name is... Yes, my name is Elizabeth. Umber. Elizabeth Umber is my name...!"

The teacher nodded. "That's a lovely name, Elizabeth."

"Y-Yes, thanks," I stammered. I barely noticed how I clutched onto the hem of my baggy jacket. I can feel my nails digging into my palm through the fabric.

"You're a new student as well?" the teacher went on. No more questions, please...

"Y-Yes, I am," I answered quietly. "I j-just moved here from...from...f-from—."

"I'm sorry, could you speak up just a little louder?"

There's a ringing in my ears. I can feel my heart pumping hard. Crap!

"I'm from Colorado. Originally. Y-Yes, that's where I am from. I was born there. At Colorado."

"Any interests you'd like to share?"

My jaw hurt so badly from clenching it.

"B...Books. Lots of...books. I like...books."

"Ahh, lovely! What kind?"

I don't know what came over me. "A-Are we done talking yet?" I blabbered.

The teacher was noticeably confused and some of the students 'ooh'ed under their breath. Even that Ian guy grimaced. I'm going to throw up my god damn Froot Loops.

"Please excuse me!" I exclaimed, before I rushed to the door and out of the classroom. Oh my god, I think I'm actually going to do it, I'm gonna barf. It's not even noon yet!

Thankfully, I took note of where the restrooms were when I first arrived and raced right to the girls'. I barged in and lunged for the big trash can by the sinks. Unfortunately, my momentum and poor footing made me crash right against it and I went toppling over with the bin. A mess of crumpled paper towels spilled next to me and what was worse—I couldn't hold back my nausea even then.

I literally threw up a rainbow. That was it. My rainbow cereal spit-up, right there in front of me.

Right fucking there in front of me on a girl's shoes.

"What the actual fuck?!" she shrieked. I couldn't bear to look up at her. All I could tell was that she had shoulder-length blonde hair and a pretty nice outfit. And she was absolutely pissed.

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry," I sputtered, tears blurring my vision.

"You clumsy fucking bitch! These were new shoes too! Hope you have a hundred dollars on that baggy rag of a fucking jacket on you!"

"Please, don't yell, I'm sorry—."

"Screw this! Out of my way, you clown-ass bitch!" Then, she stormed out of the bathroom, but not without shoving me aside with her leg as she went past.

Then it was just me, there on my hands and knees, with an old trash next to me and my own colored vomit staring back at my face. Tears were falling down my cheeks and dripping off my jaw onto the tiled floor. I couldn't bring myself to get up. I didn't want to move, didn't want to go anywhere, didn't want to see anyone. What a complete idiot I am!

There was a click, followed by the creaking of a stall door opening. A girl stepped out, silent, having overheard everything. Oh, great, as if this couldn't get any worse...

I didn't look at her but I did spot her shoes at the edge of my vision. Her voice echoed off the restroom walls, "Are you okay?"

I didn't respond, worried I'll just sob out loud.

A pause of silence passed before she quietly added, "Let me help you clean up."

This time I had to answer and shook my head. I had to do something to preoccupy my frenzied mind, so I started picking up the trash beside me so I could put it back in the bin.

"Hey, don't do that, it's all dirty," the girl said. "I'll get a custodian, hold on...!"

A couple minutes after she rushed out, she brought a female custodian with her who picked everything up for me. She also had to bust out the mop for...well...

While I stood in the corner watching the custodian clean up, the other girl came up and handed me a dampened paper towel. She said, "Here, you should wipe your face."

Without a word, I gingerly took it from her hand and dabbed it on my skin. While I did that, she reached around for her backpack and told me, "I've got toothpaste in my bag and a disposable brush."

I guess I must have made a face because she chuckled and added, "I, um, was in a rush this morning and didn't get to brush my teeth at home, so I just dumped my stuff in here. Look, see! Go ahead."

Although I wanted to decline so I wouldn't bother her, she shoved a plastic bag with said toothpaste and toothbrush inside. I couldn't exactly push her hand away because it would be rude (and I already caused enough trouble), so I went ahead and accepted her offer. As I held the baggie in my hand, I took this chance to look at my helper since I never saw her face properly.

Holy—I didn't realize she was so...tall. I'm fairly short but wow, she's 'tall' tall. Wait, that doesn't make any sense...

She was a person of olive complexion, with long, brunette hair tied back into a low ponytail that hung off one shoulder. She had thin, wire classes that framed her slender face nicely. Her eyes were a warm hazel that shined and complemented her easy-going smile. I didn't feel uncomfortable in her gaze, something that I struggle with a lot when it comes to everyone else. The shame I felt inside was slowly dissipating the more I looked at her.

"Have at it," she chirped regarding the baggie she gave me. After I was done gawking at her, I stood in front of the sink and brushed my teeth. It felt weird brushing my teeth in a school restroom and not in my own house, but this is better than tasting bile on my tongue the entire day.

"While you're at it, hand me the tube," the brunette girl spoke up. Then she proceeded to brush her teeth beside me using her finger. I kind of felt bad because she should've been using the toothbrush but I didn't comment about it (I mean, I had a bunch of foam in my mouth).

The female custodian was long gone, so it was just the two of us cleaning our teeth together. This feels a bit too intimate of a moment between strangers who just met. What even is this morning...

"And done," she murmured, then spit into the sink. I finished up too. After a good rinse, I was feeling refreshed and significantly better than before. I handed her stuff back, except the toothbrush, which went into the trash. The brunette girl fixed her backpack on her shoulders before saying, "I hope you feel better. And that girl earlier? Don't worry too much about her, she's just a spoiled bitch."

"Th-Thank you," I murmured, the first words I said to her this whole encounter.

"Don't sweat it. Gotta go! See you around!"

With that, she hurried out of the restroom to wherever she needed to be. I was alone again. Yet, despite my panic from earlier and the humiliating scene I made in front of that other girl, I didn't feel so bad. So I made sure to hold onto this feeling as I made my way back to my homeroom class, which was surely bound to end any minute now.

...

It was lunch break. Since it was the first day, everyone had to go to the cafeteria, which I didn't like. I was hoping to visit the library instead of being in a giant room with bodies every which way around me. Again, it all feels too uncomfortable, but I suppose I can endure it for this first day.

I was also nervous to run into that girl I accidentally threw up on. The thought of her yelling at me again had my adrenaline spiking, and I had to do some mild breathing exercises to clear my mind.

After getting a tray of food, I carefully weaved my way around people and tables and tables full of people to find a spot to sit. It was really difficult even seeing anything available. I shouldn't be surprised, really. Most students have their unofficial designated tables. What's a new girl like me going to do?

And then I felt someone come up next to me and I flinched in my place. Fortunately, it wasn't the girl I barfed on, but the other girl that helped me after that.

"Hey, need a seat?" she asked. I didn't respond because I wasn't sure, but she motioned for me to follow her anyway. Well, it's not like I had found any options on my own.

There was a small round table in one corner of the cafeteria that could fit about four people. The brunette girl set her tray down and took a seat. For a moment, I stood idly by as I eyed the table. I know I shouldn't hesitate when this girl has been nothing but kind, but I still can't help but stay wary.

Finally, I got over myself and took a seat across from her. It didn't even occur to me that I should eat the food I got. I'm not even sure if I'm hungry or if I should even be eating at all (because of, ya know, my panic barfing). For the time being, I just drank my water.

The brunette girl and I didn't talk at first. She ate her food while I just kind of stared off. Somehow, I brought up the courage to ask, "Is, um, anyone else going to come and sit here?"

The girl shook her head. "Nope. Just us. And if you're not here, then just me."

"Ah, I see..."

She smirked a bit. "Kinda sounds like I'm a big loner, huh?"

I blinked at her. "I suppose."

The brunette chuckled. "It's whatever. Other people did used to sit here with me, but they either transferred schools or graduated already."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Heh, it's nothing to be sorry about. Shit happens. But anyway, if you wanna sit here too, that's cool."

I nodded and clutched my water. "Thank you."

The girl stared at me for a moment before stating, "I'm Johanna, by the way. Johanna Jimenez. I didn't get to tell you earlier."

The thought of introducing myself again after what happened in homeroom almost faltered me, but I managed anyway.

"My name is Elizabeth. Elizabeth Umber." Wow, much better this time.

"It's nice to meet you, Elizabeth," Johanna said. "It seems like you're doing a lot better."

"I am. I really appreciate your concern."

Johanna perked up and commented, "Huh, you're super polite."

Instinctively, I cast my gaze down and said, "Oh, s-sorry."

She waved both hands in the air. "No, no, that's not a bad thing! People around here aren't usually like that so I was just surprised."

"Is everyone rude?"

She laughed. "No, but they're definitely not like you."

I scratched the side of my face. "I-Is that a good or bad thing?"

She shrugged. "Guess it depends. Personally, I think it's pretty damn good! People can just be shitty sometimes, you know?"

Hesitantly, I remarked, "Like that girl from earlier?"

Johanna detestably rolled her eyes and groaned, "Yeah, although I think calling that chick 'shitty' is an exponential understatement."

"Do you know her?"

The brunette scoffed. "Ah, who doesn't? Her name is Maddie and she's a fucking bitch, plain and simple. She also happens to have a rich mommy and daddy so there's the cash to go with the entitlement."

"That does make for a horrible combination most of the time...," I remarked.

"Tell me about it. I could go on about all the bullshit she's done, but we'd be here until the end of the school year," she japed. I actually kind of smiled at that.

Biting into her straw, she continued, "Just as a warning, you should stay wary of her friends too. Stephanie, Clare, and Addie. Also her fucking creepo of a boyfriend Cyrus. You hear those names, you steer clear."

"Gotcha." Geez, my first day and I'm already making a list of people to avoid.

"I'm guessing you're new to Memorial high school?" Johanna said. "I don't recognize you from previous years."

"I moved here from Colorado last week," I said. Christ, I can speak much easier..!

"Well then, welcome to Illinois, Ellie. Oh wait, sorry, I probably shouldn't call you that."

I shook my head. "It's okay. Ellie is much better."

She smiled big and proud. "Alright then, Ellie it is."

Although no one else has ever called me Ellie except for my parents, hearing it come from this girl was sort of like a breath of fresh air. It didn't even occur to me what I was doing. I was actually kind of...socializing.

For the rest of lunch break, we chatted. Johanna did most of the talking, but it seemed the both of us didn't mind that. She told me all she could about the school, this town, and other stuff to get me acquainted to my new life here. By the end of break, my anxiety from earlier was almost completely gone. And I was actually able to get an appetite and eat.

...

The first sign that there was something wrong with me was when I went for my annual checkup with my doctor at the age of 8.

At the time, I had no idea why my doctor was freaking out when he apparently couldn't find my heart rate. Like, it was non-existent. No pulse, no sound in the stethoscope, absolutely zip. After several tries and closer examination (and many more appointments), it turns out I somehow had a supremely slow and irregular heart rate than what should be normal for a child. With how abnormal my heartbeat was, I should've been exhibiting severe symptoms or worse—dead. My records never showed that I had this condition during prior checkups. It just suddenly happened.

I was placed on medications for 2 years following the discovery of my unusual condition. Over time though, it was obvious nothing worked to speed up my heart beat to a normal rate, so I quit the meds. It wasn't as if it was detrimental to how I lived anyway, I guess it was just kind of freaky. Gradually though, with each annual checkup, my heart rate looks to be increasing by a few more beats. It's still not to where it should be though, but that's nothing new.

It always felt like, to me at least, that ever since that time when I was 8 years old, I've become strange. Never special, never unique, never a "diamond in the rough" (Mom once said to make me feel better). Just weird. And as I've gotten older, I've learned that it's the reason why I have such a hard time socializing with others, making friends, even being able to tolerate hanging around people. I'm too weird. My complexion is too pale, and my eyes are too glassy, and my skin is always abnormally cold so none of the other kids ever wanted to play patty-cake with me for even a moment. I'm too weird to them.

That's the one thing people did know about me, at the least. The memories of my old self were a thing to be forgotten and instead I was always the strange girl kids didn't want to talk to. And if no one talked to me, I wouldn't talk to them. When there was recess, I always stayed back in the classroom to do my homework. Instead of taking lunch break, I'd sneak away to read a book in some corner of the hallways. If there was even the slightest moment of peace and quiet, I took it to be with myself. I adapted. If it can even be called that...

Doesn't mean I ever liked it though. Doesn't mean I didn't look at the groups of girls giggling together over their crushes and favorite music. Doesn't mean I didn't listen in on people's conversations and jokes hoping to see what it'd be like. Doesn't mean that I was never hurt when no one wanted to be my group partner. It hurt to be in silence. It hurt to speak probably less than ten words in an entire day. It hurt.

I had an opportunity to be home-schooled instead. Counselors took note of my odd behavior with students, and people in general. They brought it up with my parents, suggesting I be "transitioned" to a less social environment. Mom was angry for obvious reasons; Dad a little less so but still shocked nonetheless to hear this recommendation. In the end, I refused to be home-schooled. Not only would it be extra trouble for my parents, but despite the repeated days of silence and solitude, I couldn't bear to not listen to the kids around me and watch them. Because some tiny part of me hoped I'd eventually get the chance to redeem myself again. I'm still waiting for it.

What a peculiar conundrum: too hurt to stay but too lonely to run away. I guess I am weird.