Four
One month later, we moved into my grandmother’s house. It had not
been occupied since her death, two years earlier. My childhood
memories of spending time with her were ones I remembered fondly.
Still, as much as I loved her cottage-style home, change is never easy.
The place I lived in had been three times the size of our new living space.
My bedroom now felt more like a cell. I tried to be positive, telling myself it would be less than a year before I left for college. Not to mention, we were closer to my father’s favorite beach. Still, I struggled.
Since the house was fully furnished, my mother insisted we only take the essentials, allowing us a couple of suitcases each. The executor of my father’s will made arrangements for the sale of all property we left behind. The proceeds, along with his life insurance, would be used to pay off the majority of his debts.
Anything that didn’t sell would be donated to charity. Hillary Chase wanted to box it all up and forget that chapter of our life.
With encouragement from her friends, my mother decided to go into business
for herself. The planner extraordinaire would put her talents to work. Event planning would be how we paid our bills.
My father had taught me that education was important if I wanted to succeed in
life. The first three years of high school had been rigorous. I had met all my
required courses by the beginning of my senior year and was able to attend community college classes. The dual credits gave me a head start on my college
years.
When I started at my new school, I was thankful my father had been so wise.
I only had to feel like an outsider for half a day since my classes ended at one
o’clock. As thankful as I was, I was irritated that my final class fell after the lunch break. I was a new girl, and the cafeteria was the perfect place to remind
me of that. My only consolation was that I’d be able to escape before the masses
did.
From day one, I made a point to be invisible. I didn’t want to make new friends, and the old ones slowly stopped reaching out to me. I just wanted to get through this part of my life. I went to school and I kept to myself, but my attempt at isolation was futile once I met Thomas Martin.
It was a typical day. Like I had done for the last two weeks, I found a corner
of the lunchroom unoccupied. There, I ate my fruit salad and read until the bell
rang.
“Oh no, this won’t do, Sweetie,” a voice called, pulling me from my fantasy
world.
My eyes met his. Thomas Martin was in my English class, but I had never spoken to him before today.
“Did I take your seat?” I asked, tucking my book into my backpack and picking up my lunch.
“Honey, you need a makeover. Let’s go,” the boy said, grabbing my hand.
Before I knew what was happening, I was letting a stranger drag me out of
the cafeteria to the Dance classroom. We arrived at the massive room, and he dropped the bag onto the floor.
“Stand right there,” Thomas commanded. He proceeded to dig through his
duffle and frantically pulled out clothes, piling them into my arms. “Go change,”
he insisted.
When I didn’t move, he pointed to the restroom. “Go on. The bell is going to
ring, and I am not letting you leave until we fix this mess.”
In the bathroom, I put on the short skirt, button-up top, and black jacket he
gave me. I stared at the black and white tie, unsure what I was supposed to do with it. I tried to tie it but gave up.
Thomas was dancing in front of the mirror when I returned to the room.
There was no music. He finally noticed me and grinned. “Now, for the final touches.”
