1
Lily
The sounds of banging cabinets startle me awake before my alarm can go off. Rolling over to my side, I see I still have thirty minutes before I need to get up. I’d set my alarm a little earlier than I should have because I’m nervous about my first day. I’m going to a new school and have no idea what this one is going to be like. You never know what you’re going to get. Most of the time I can blend in and let myself get lost in the crowd of other students. No one notices me for the most part, but it doesn’t always work.
I should be used to changing schools by now. I think this is the fourth time I’ve moved in the past two years. The schools are starting to run together, but I hope this is the last. Only months separate me from graduation, and only days from my eighteenth birthday. I’ll be able to make my own choices then.
A sound of something shattering in the kitchen followed by a string of curses causes me to hold my breath. I can only hope he doesn’t call out my name. Monday mornings are the worst. Dad’s always coming off a weekend bender, because alcohol seems to be my father’s reason for living. It wasn’t always like this, but it is now.
Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I slowly sit up and listen for his movements. Things have been getting unstable lately, and it’s only getting worse. Dad used to be able to drown his sorrows in the bottom of a bottle and pretend I didn’t exist. But recently his anger has been rising and flying my way. I’m constantly walking around on eggshells, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the look in his eyes, but I can see it. I can feel it deep inside me, like he’s waiting for me to do something wrong so he can strike out.
But I always make sure there isn’t a reason. I desperately don’t want that change to come. I’m a skittish rabbit in my own home. When I finally hear the front door slam closed, all my muscles release, and an all-too-familiar tension within me relaxes.
I pull myself from the bed and get ready for school. I go with a short button-up blue jean dress with wool leggings underneath. They’re soft and warm and will help with the chill on my mile-long walk to school. It’s early January, and the Minnesota winter is raging. The more layers I can put on, the better.
Looking in the mirror, I part my hair a little to the side so more falls to the right, before putting in a small clip to hold it in place. I make sure the scar by my ear is hidden as much as possible, then I look myself over, double-checking everything. The scar is all I ever see when I look in the mirror. It’s the bitter reminder of the day that changed my world. My mom might have died in the car, but she dragged my father with her into the grave. Nothing has been the same since that day.
Now when I look into the mirror, the scar isn’t the first thing I see. I see my mother. When I was unpacking boxes last night I pulled out a photo album of my parents when they were younger. I look just like her at my age. From my white-blonde hair, to my too-big blue eyes that take over my face, to my front teeth that are a little bigger than the rest, and my small upturned nose.
We almost look like twins in pictures of us at the same age. Reaching out, I touch the mirror, wishing it was my mother. But all the wishing in the world can’t turn back the clock. I spent the first year after she died wishing for so many things. Wishing gets you nowhere.
I wipe at the tear that’s somehow escaped. I miss when I looked in the mirror and I only saw the scar. It was easier to deal with. Grabbing my bag, I head downstairs knowing the mess my dad made will still be there.
Since my mom died I’ve sort of taken her place when it comes to the household chores. I make sure everything is kept clean, the laundry is done, and dinner is on the table before my dad gets home from whatever job he is doing. Normally it’s some kind of security since he lost his badge after one too many DWIs. I don’t know how he can drink all night and still get up for work, but he does it.
I finish cleaning up the shattered coffee mug from the floor and make sure everything else is in its place. I pull a pack of hamburger meat out of the freezer and sit it out on the stove to defrost. I’ll make something with it when I get home.
Bundling up the best I can, I pray that the weather won’t be too bad when school finally lets out. I need to see about finding a job on the weekends. Maybe I can fill out most of the applications online during
lunch at the school library. I’ve seen a few small places in town that are on my way to school. I can see about popping in and applying on my way home. They’d be the best bet being so close. Maybe I’d get lucky and could even work a few hours after school, making it home before Dad.
Dad will never go for me working through the week if it means no dinner on the table, but the weekends he seems okay with. I’ve been pooling every penny I can and saving it away. I feel like time is running out and I need as much money as I can get to try and get a place of my own. I want to be able to afford college next year and to put a roof over my head. I have to get out of here. I can’t watch my father kill himself. I already watched my mother die.
2
Ren
My mom comes in my room asking me to help shovel the driveway so she can get her car out. I roll out of bed and manage a quick shower before throwing on some jeans and a long-sleeved henley. I grab my big winter boots and coat, and I go outside and see my dad working up a sweat. I don’t say anything, I just walk over and take the shovel from him and go back to the area where he was working.
“Thanks, Ren. I’ll make you something to eat.”
He pats me on the back, and I finish up as my mom is ready to leave for work. She’s an emergency room nurse who works what they call three-twelves. Three days of twelve-hour shifts, then off for four. She’s been doing it for almost twenty years, so I know even when she complains, she loves her job. My dad owns the hardware store in town, and everybody loves him. He’s the kind of man I hope to be one day, if I ever figure out how.
My mom backs out of the garage and stops in front of me to roll down her window.
“Dinner’s in the fridge, with a note on how long to cook it.” She turns her head to the side, and I try to fight a smile. “Knock your mom a kiss and get inside. It’s colder than your Grandma Grace.”
I lean in, giving her a kiss, and shake my head. “Grace died ten years ago.”
“Like I said.” She winks at me and rolls the window up, backing out and driving away.
When I get inside, I see Dad has left me some eggs and oatmeal on the counter. I sit down and eat all of it, thinking that I could probably go for seconds. Looking at my watch I see I’ve got about twenty minutes before I need to leave for school, but I remember I need to get gas.
Dad comes in wearing his khakis and work sweater with Hendricks’s Hardware embroidered on the breast. “I’m heading out. You going to be home after school?”
I nod and grab my backpack. I hear him sigh, but I don’t say anything. I don’t want to start right now, because I need to be on my way.
“Ren,” he says, and I know that tone. I wait, and sure enough he has to say something. “Football season is over and you’ve got a great scholarship to Minnesota in the fall. Your mom and I are so proud of you, son. I just want you to make sure you’re doing what it is you want to do and that you’re not playing football because you feel like you have to.”
I shrug, but I know what he means. “I’m happy to play ball, Dad. I’ll be able to get a good education there. That’s all I’m worried about.”
He reaches out and rubs my shoulder. “Okay. You’ve got time if you decide to change your mind.” He smiles at me, and I smile back. “So, any idea who you’re going to take to the winter formal?”
I roll my eyes and walk past him. I think he used the football talk as an excuse to bring it up. Again.
My dad follows me, and I can hear his words over the snow I’m crunching under my boots. “Just asking, Ren. No big deal.”
Sure. No big deal that you can’t stop worrying about if I’m dating or not. I climb in my Jeep Wrangler and wave to my dad. They wonder why I don’t talk much, and it’s mostly because I can’t get a word in around the two of them. As I drive to the gas station, I think about high school and how they think I’m missing out on a key piece of the experience by not dating.
I’m not interested in any of the girls, or guys for that matter, at school. I’m an eighteen-year-old straight-A student who plays center for the West High Wolves, and I’m focusing on my future. I’m friends with a couple of the guys in my grade, but overall I’m a loner. I’ve enjoyed being that way for so long that even playing football doesn’t have the same luster it used to. I’ve always been a big kid, so my parents put me in sports hoping to socialize me. I succeeded at every ball they put in my hands, but still remained the same. I’m quiet for the most part, and when I speak, it’s because I have something to say. The girls at school think that makes me stuck-up, but I can’t be bothered to care. If that’s what they think, then I’m better off skipping the winter formal and leaving high school without the experience.
I catch the sight of someone walking on the side of the road as I pull into the gas station. It takes me a second to realize it’s a woman bundled up in a big jacket—the leggings showing below her heavy coat give it away. I think about stopping and asking if she needs some help, but the gas station is literally thirty feet from where I spot her. I jump out and start the gas, trying to get the damn thing to come on. It’s cold out, and it’s pumping like molasses.
Looking around, I try to spot the woman again, but I don’t see her. Hopefully she made it inside and isn’t stuck out in the cold. I don’t know why I’m worried about it, but I guess there’s something in me that’s protective in that way. My mom said I had a tender heart as a kid, always rescuing animals I found.
When the gas finally clicks, I finish up and hop back in the Jeep. I blow on my hands trying to warm them up before I drive away. As I’m leaving, I catch sight in my rearview of the woman coming out of the store.
I don’t know why, but the sight lingers in the back of my mind the whole way to school.
3
Lily
I pick at my torn leggings as I sit in the main office of the high school. At least I’m not bleeding, but falling on the steps on your first day at a new school isn’t the way I wanted to start. I can still feel the burn of embarrassment on my cheeks, but maybe no one noticed. At least no one really seemed to. Not even the girl who’d shoved me, nor her friend. Except for a few giggles no one really said anything.
Sitting back in my chair, I wait for someone to help me. I was told to take a seat and they’d have my class schedule shortly, along with someone to show me around. That was twenty minutes ago. I glance around the office. It looks like it’s decorated for a party. Gold and red balloons and ribbons line the walls, as well as posters that read #1 State Champs. I’m guessing they’re about football. The last school I was in didn’t have a team, but this school is about four times bigger. It gives me hope that I’ll be able to blend in and fade into the background, going unnoticed. Left alone.
“At least we won’t freeze our tits off anymore.” I glance up at the voice and see a brunette in a cheerleading outfit and a high ponytail. She’s talking to another girl who looks exactly the same, only her hair is red and curly. It’s the two girls who knocked me down this morning. They acted like I was invisible, so at least that part of my plan is working.
“That’s the only plus side to cheering for the basketball team here. The games are inside. There aren’t even any good ones to look at.” The redhead pouts a little, and I look down, hoping they won't take notice of me. I go back to playing with the hole in my leggings.
“Hey, did you hear Ren got a full ride to Minnesota? Brent hasn’t even gotten an offer yet and he’s the freaking quarterback,” the brunette says in a horrified voice.
“I heard he’s been going up there on the weekends or something. Probably up there getting his dick wet,” the redhead adds. I feel my face warm for the second time today. Maybe that’s how girls talk to each other. I wouldn't know. I haven’t had a friend in a long time, and when I did it was before sex was a blip in our minds.
“Shit. God, he’s such an asshole, but I’m still going to see about getting with him. Being a starting football player’s girlfriend will make freshman year of college a cakewalk.”
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“Maybe he already has one up there. I can’t get him to give me the time of day,” Red says, making me wonder who would willingly date an asshole.
“I asked Brent, and he said no. I told him I was asking about Ren for you so he wouldn’t get all pissy about it.”
“You breaking up with Brent?”
“I’ll give it another week and see if anything happens with his football stuff. I’m already in at Minnesota, so Ren would work. We all know Brent wouldn’t be anything without Ren. Maybe the school will try and pick them both up.”
“God, I bet he’s a beast in bed with the way he plays. That alone would be enough to put up with him being an asshole.”
I wish a hole in the ground would open and swallow me up. I don’t want to hear any of this. I know these types of girls can be the hardest on you in school, and I’m praying they don’t notice me. I scoot back in my chair, wanting to take up as little space as possible.
“Kristen, you were supposed to be here at eight sharp,” an older woman with short gray hair says coming from one of the back rooms in the main office. She’s the one who greeted me when I came in. The bell rings, and she looks to the redhead. “Carrie, class.”
I look up to see Carrie mutter a goodbye to Kristen then leave the office. Her curls bounce with her every step. Her cheerleading skirt waves around her butt cheeks.
“Sorry, Mrs. White. It took me longer to get the snow off my car this morning than I thought it would,” Kristen says in a super sweet voice. Nothing like the one she had moments ago when talking to her friend. “I hope I haven’t kept anyone waiting too long. It’s important that all new students at West High get the best first day possible.” She says it like she’s pitching some kind of campaign for the school.