Chapter 1: Crys
“Just walk away,” my mind whispers, though I’m the only one who can hear it.
I take a deep breath; it’s time to move, exit this dreadful classroom, and relax. Yes, that’s what I should do. I should heed her advice.
Just as I’m about to bring my left foot in line with my right for that final step through the open door, I hear the cheerleader’s voice ringing out once more.
But life has never been simple for me.
“I bet she’s just like her mom—a worthless addict.”
The laughter swells, suffocating me like my mother’s hands when she’s desperate for drugs.
I freeze. My vision blurs as anger surges. “Walk away,” I repeat to myself.
She snatches my backpack off my desk and hurls my belongings onto the tiled floor. I don’t have much—just two school books, a classic novel, and a few makeup palettes. She glances at the eyeshadow palette with a sneer and steps on it, the plastic cracking beneath her foot.
I worked hard for three months to buy that—it’s nothing to a spoiled bitch like her. Which shows that none of my classmates know me.
I shoot her a fierce glare, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest as a tempest brews inside me and a surge of adrenaline jolts through my veins. If I hadn’t been honing my anger management skills through meditation, I’d be ready to unleash all my fury on her. If I act now, whatever comes next will be a mistake.
With a deep breath, I steady myself and prepare to walk away—no, I need to run.
“She probably sleeps with the dealers in the bathroom for her next high.”
More laughter follows.
I’ve had enough of this bitch.
My fist clenches, and in a single, powerful motion, I land a punch to her left eye.
She gasps, her horrified gaze locking onto mine.
I wait for the others to say something, ready to strike out at her friends who laughed at me.
Come on, do it. I dare you!
None of them have the guts to confront me. They surround the blonde whose hair is too straight, skin too perfect, and skirt too short, cradling her as if she’s the victim, even though she’s the one who started the fight.
“Slut!” The girl taunts me.
It seems she hasn’t learned her lesson.
My fist clenches again, but this time there’s a burning sensation in my chest, and a low growl rumbles in my throat. I tilt my head, ready to snap at the girl for her toxic words and the humiliation she has caused.
I lift my right hand but halt immediately when I hear my name. “Ms. Gallagher.”
The teacher calls for security, but it’s the principal who runs in, locking his glare at me. “My office. Now!”
The moment security was called, he likely anticipated it was me. I’ve only been at this school for six months, and this marks at least my tenth fight. But who’s really counting?
I snatch my bag from the floor, hastily collecting my things and slinging it over my shoulder. My eyes fall on the girl, clutching her face as tears stream down her cheeks.
With a smirk, I trail behind the principal to his office—it’s not like I need a map. I’m practically a regular there.
Upon entering the small corner office, with its shelves overflowing with books and an old wooden desk, he abruptly slams the door shut. He barely looks at me as he takes his seat, his anger radiating from the flush on his face.
Really, it was just a punch, not murder.
I can’t help but wonder if this is the time I finally get expelled. It wouldn’t be my first high school exit.
His eyes narrow as he assesses me, quickly skimming over me like he doesn’t know what to do with me. He grabs his phone to text someone. If it’s my mom, she’s too high to care. When I left this morning, she was busy with some guy, both of them snorting white lines off the kitchen table.
I lean against the desk. “Let me guess, I’m getting suspended.”
“Not this time, Ms. Gallagher.”
“So, you’re kicking me out?”
“Not quite,” he replies, a glare crossing his face before he sighs. “It’s clear you don’t want to be here.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ve been kicked out of every high school in this district. What’s next?” I lean back in my chair, bracing myself for what’s coming even though it doesn’t matter.
I’ll be eighteen next month, and I plan to drop out of school to get my GED and hopefully get a job that pays slightly over minimum wage so I can afford a place to live.
The principal watches me for a moment, then folds his hands and leans forward across his desk. “A woman called me last month.”
I clap my hands together. “Great, you finally have a date,” I joke.
“This is serious,” he snaps back. “She’s your new social worker.”
My jaw drops in disbelief. “I don’t have a social worker.”
“Well, you do now.”
A knock echoes on the door, and it creaks open just a bit. Before I can even peek behind my shoulder to see who’s there, a jolt of electricity courses through me, sending the hairs on my arms standing at attention as the woman glides into the room.
Dressed in tailored black slacks and a lavender sweater, she sits next to me, her smile appearing polished yet artificial, as if it’s been practiced too many times before.
“Hello there,” she greets, her tone insincere. “I’m Laurie Olsen, your social worker.”
I choose not to respond. It’s clear she thinks she knows everything about me, my life, and how to fix it.
“I’m aware of your family situation and your mom’s struggles, and we think it’s in your best interest to find a safer environment away from her.”
“‘We?’” I raise an eyebrow, glancing at the man cowering behind the desk.
She offers a warm smile. “I have a special place for girls like you.”
I tug at the sleeves of my oversized sweater to hide my hands completely. “Girls like me? Troubled, defiant, and worthless?”
“Different.” She leans in closer, her eyes meeting mine, then, for a split second, her green eyes glow yellow.
I suck in a breath, pulling away from her. I’ve never seen those eyes before except for when I look at myself in the mirror.
“What the fuck?”
