Chapter 1

I know every crack and spot on my bedroom ceiling. I follow the patterns with my eyes for hours on sleepless nights. Those nights that seem to take forever. I just don't sleep. I try but I don't succeed. I don't get nightmares, I'm not afraid there is a demon in my closet or under my bed, and the dark doesn't scare me. My eyes just don't seem to close and stay closed. I never drift off into a dream. Although sometimes I wish I could. People in school always talk in the morning about these weird and exciting worlds they go to. Some of them fly, some of them find true love, or get chased by a monster. And they always turn to me and ask what I dreamt about and I say I don't remember. But in reality, I don't sleep. 

On the nights I do sleep, I always see a faint light in between those cracks. So I guess on the nights I don't, I am looking for that light, to come and appear and grant me the permission to rest. I never tell anyone about the light. Because I feel like it's meant just for me. For my knowledge. When I see that light and close my eyes, everything is dark, and when I open them a few seconds later, it's light outside. No dreams, no nothing. It's like a time machine.

This morning, however, I had a lightless night. It's one of those mornings where it's raining already when you wake up. And you walk out and it's warm and the sky is dark. And every drop of moisture seems to stick to your body. But actually, it started raining about halfway through the night. I listened to the light tapping on the roof and the thunder intently. And yet no sleep. So I sit on the bus, in my own seat, and lean my head against the window. And with every bump we ride over my head hits the glass hard. But this morning my wet matted hair cushions the blow. I don't sit with anyone on my bus. Not because I don't have friends or anything, it's just that none of them live near me.

I watch the streets go by as my head bumps along. It's like any other morning. I close my eyes and focus on the sounds. Kids talking, some of them sleeping. And when I open my eyes we are at the school and the last person is getting off the bus. I usually get a few minutes of "sleep" somewhere after a bored night. I pick up my stuff and rush off the bus and into the glass dome that is the bus unloading area. This would be my favorite part of the school if it wasn't always crowded. There are two entrances. One from outside and one from the main building. And all the glass this morning is blurry from the pouring rain. Rain is one of the only things that calms me. And in this room especially.

My school has three floors. Only two of them are accessible. I don't know of anyone who has been to the third floor. The staircase leading to it is locked, and the elevator doesn't have the option to go up there. Though people think it might have something to do with the fact that a long time ago  some kids were hanging around up there and they tried to walk along the edge without falling. For a dare. But they all did. One after the other. That part of the story never makes sense to me. If they saw the others fall why would they keep going? Wouldn't they go get help?But that's at least what I've heard. I pass this staircase every day. I've stopped paying attention to it after 6 years. I used to try to see if I could view the top, but it gets too dark. My curious younger self used to want to go up there and investigate, but now I've given up on it.

The upper floor is for middle school to high school. And I'm a junior. It's always crowded upstairs. The walls are covered in artwork. And you can always tell which grade territories you are in by the quality. Except you would think my grade was third grade if there wasn't so much artwork. Most of my grades artwork are half-assed to just achieve the required points. And the rest is below average. Every year as we move up, our past artwork moves with us. By now the wall for us is almost full. And not many people have improved. Some not at all.

The walls are a solid white. The floors are an ugly lime green and navy blue carpet tile. The lockers alternate from red to blue. Whoever picked the color scheme must have gotten paid in literal s**t because the entire school is like this. The classroom floors are a cherry wood and the desks are a light beige. The contrast is the one thing I have never gotten used to. Nothing goes together in this school. And sometimes it seems like I don't go along with it either.

I never liked my school. I have waited patiently my entire life to get out of this town. To go to a good college and see the world. But other people here don't seem to give a crap about college. Welksview has a success rate of about 20%. There are so many family businesses in this town that need to be passed on, so kids have that to look forward to and that's it. My dad works in the city, which is about a two-hour commute each morning. So I have nothing being passed on to me. I have to make a life for myself.

My family isn't rich but we aren't poor. My two brothers send a paycheck home every once in a while. But since they moved out it has just been my dad and I. So there's not a lot of mouths to feed and not a lot of bills to pay. My mother up and left us five years ago when I was in eighth grade. She took some of our money and headed to god knows where for who knows why. She tried to contact me once. To get me to move with her. Away from my dad. But I'm almost out of the house so I just threw the letter in the fireplace. I don't want her in my life anyway.

My mom always hated my dad. And I'm not so sure how I feel about him either. He's an alcoholic. But not one of those ones with the scruffy chin, beer gut, and wife beater shirt on. He's the guy you would never expect. He's a businessman and works really hard. So he comes home and drinks. I used to stay up until he got home so I could say hi. But then I realized that that was when he became the person my mom tried to escape. So I either stay out late and sneak in or go to bed early. He beats me about once a month. But he always feels really bad. Usually the next morning he makes me my favorite breakfast and kisses and hugs me and says how sorry he is. The first few times I forgave him. Now I just block that part out. I just choose to see him when he's the dad I need him to be.

No one knows about this. It's one of my secrets. Not even my best friend Quinn knows. Quinn is very popular. Not because she's a b***h, but because she is nice and can be a b***h when need be. She always looks good, and always has her guard up in school. Her hair is long brown and has perfect curls that end just above her chest. She always dresses up for school. I'm the only person who has seen her when she's looks awful, and who she tells everything to. We grew up together and have always been close. I'm known as her best friend. Not as myself, Evelyn, but as Quinn's sidekick. I honestly don't mind. If it means I get to stay friends with Quinn, then I'm fine with it.

I walk into my first-period class and see Quinn sitting next to her girlfriend on the couch. My school thought it would be a "progressive" to put couches in each classroom so we can relax. But people just have sex on them when everyone's at lunch. I sit down on a chair next to the couch which is the same ugly burgundy. Quinn's girlfriend Aria looks at me and smiles. I smile back. Her hair is the same style as Quinn's, except it a darker brown which goes well with her dark skin. I don't like her at all but I keep my mouth shut. Out of all the girls Quinn has dated she is by far the worst. Once, I told Quinn that she shouldn't date her, and Quinn called me a homophobe. I don't blame her. Ever since she came out freshman year she has lost a lot of friends.

"Hey Eve, we still on for tonight?" Quinn's voice cuts the air and I realize I was staring at Aria. And probably not in a good way. I blink and look at Quinn blankly. Because I have no idea what she said.

"Oh, um yeah" I reply. As I said the words a chill ran down my back and I pulled my jacket tighter around me.

"Great, I can't wait," she said. I then figured out what she meant. And why I got so chilled. I had a weird feeling that we weren't going to hang out that night. Or any other night. I get feelings like that sometimes, and I'm never wrong.

Author's Note

Please let me know if there are any grammar problems or unnecessary sentences or places where the plot doesn't make sense.