I hate it when the first day of school starts in the middle of the week. Why do they even do that? Against all good sense and the impassioned arguing of my fellow prisoner in foster care, Kim, I decided to walk to school.

"Kelsey! You'll ruin your shoes!"

I looked down at my four-year-old black Converses, now faded to a muddy dark gray and shrugged. The one upside of that late middle school growth spurt was that I could still wear these shoes, the last ones Mom and I went shopping for together before she got sick. They were a little tight and a lot faded, but they felt like love.

Kim tried a different tack. "Your makeup will all melt off!"

She preened in front of the mirror. Blonde hair gathered into a perfect messy bun Instagram eyebrows and hot pink lip gloss all on fleek.

Not like me, the goth girl without even trying. I peered at myself over her shoulder, feeling like a broad-shouldered, hulking giant next to her petite blonde perfection. Kim was wearing some New-Age themed perfume today that made my eyes water and my nose tickle. I think it's called 'Werewolf'. It smelled like PineSol and wet dog to me. Good thing I wasn't wearing makeup. The reek would have driven it all down my face.

My black hair used to hang to my waist. My foster mom cut it, saying that I couldn't hide behind my hair forever. Now it stuck out around my shoulders in no discernable style, refusing to be either straight or wavy. Brown eyes so dark that you couldn't find the pupil peered back at me from the mirror. No wonder the cool kids called me "Morticia" and "freak".

I looked around the tiny bedroom that Kim and I shared, trying to make sure I wasn't forgetting anything. After rescuing my pencil box from under the wad of Kim's faded pink coverlet on the floor next to her bed, I picked up my backpack and headed out.

"Save me a seat in Spanish!" Kim called out as I left.

"Sure!"

It was a nice thought, but we both knew that she wouldn't be sitting anywhere near me if she could manage to worm in with Clara and the other popular girls. And every year, against the odds, Kim always did. I asked her once if she didn't mind being a hanger-on, somebody barely tolerated by the in-crowd because she could tutor them through their math woes and was great at shoplifting makeup from the Shopko. She'd blinked her blue eyes at me, partly dislodging a false eyelash.

"Kelsey, honey. You gotta be value-added, or you'll never be anything to anybody!" She turned back to the mirror for a hasty repair.

And I thought I was cynical. As foster siblings went, Kim was one of the better ones, except when she tried to make me wear eyeliner.

I went into the school building by a forbidden route. The new building was built up next to the old building. Students weren't allowed in the old building unless they had one of only a couple of classes still held there. Because of asbestos or some shit. I don't know. But I did know where the one exterior door that the admins left unlocked for smoke breaks was. I loved ghosting down the abandoned halls, reading the dress code and deportment posters left over from the 1950s and smelling the smell of rotting plaster and old books.

As I passed into the glassed-in breezeway that connected the two buildings, a hand grabbed me and dragged me behind the steel fire door.

Great. First day of school and I'm already getting mugged.

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dedicated to donnaf1828, because you inspired me to try this genre even though I probably shouldn't. XOX.