Chapter One: The Move

A Chapter by Spencer

*insert catching intro here*

Yeah, I'm no good at introductions. I never have been. Oh well, I guess I'll just start with the story...

It started when I moved from Salt Lake City, Utah to the smallest town I'd ever seen in my life; Robinson, Illinois. Now before you ask, no, it is not by Chicago. It's like four hours away. This place had basically zero people compared to where I used to live and completely unappealing. This was going to take some getting used to as if being a sophomore and moving to a new school wasn't enough.

The new school was even worse than I thought it was going to be. I'd been there for about a week and a half, taking some stupid tests that were required there. A lot of people tried to talk to me. I talked back to some of them, only trying to be polite. They all wanted to intercept the new girl in town. All of them pretending to be perfect little angels when really all that was underneath that fake skin were horrendous monsters. I wished my real friends could have come with me. They'd help me with this, but the reality was they weren't there and I'd never see them again. I wanted to run out of that school and never go back.

Some people were more polite, probably knowing I had no idea where to go by how lost I looked. That school, Robinson High School, was smaller than any school I'd ever been to. Anyways, these people only gave me slight glances, whispering to themselves. I met the eyes of one girl, though I didn't know she was a girl until later on. She wore simple black skinny jeans and gray, plaid, collared shirt. Her hair was really short and brown. She held my gaze for what seemed like an eternity, slightly grinning in the process. Some guy that was heading my way bumped into me, breaking my gaze.

"Watch where you're going," he glared. I just glared back, taking out my schedule. I glanced back up at the girl and she chuckled. I sighed and started walking, heading towards my next class. I had already embarrassed myself...great. This was no better than Hell.

As I walked into my first hour class, I asked the teacher, Mr. Daniels, where I was going to sit. He pointed to an empty desk in the front. Perfect. Now everyone was going to be able to look at me while I wouldn't know who or when they were. I shifted my weight to my other foot and stared at the desk.

"Is something wrong?" Mr. Daniels sat up. He had been leaning back in his chair, reading a copy of some giant foreign book. I silently prayed that this enormous book wasn't going to be what was assigned for reading.

"Oh, um, no. Sorry..." I quickly walked over to the desk and set my backpack on it, sitting down. I waited for the bell to ring as other people of all shapes and sizes walked through the door, talking to each other. Occasionally I'd get a few glances and a couple smiles, but I tried to ignore them. I'd smile back, but that was about the only response that I gave anyone. Finally, the bell rang.

"Alright, settle down class." Mr. Daniels closed his book and set it on his desk, "Many of you know that we have a new student today. We're all going to participate in this five minute activity, understand?" The class stayed silent, "Great, we're going to start by saying our name and something about yourself. Let's start over here."

Mr. Daniels pointed at the boy sitting to my right. He just stared at Mr. Daniels. I looked over at him, then at his notebook. I could tell he was an artist. There were all kinds of drawings on the cover. Who knows what was on the inside. Mr. Daniels sighed, knowing he wasn't going to cooperate.

Mr. Daniels looked at me next, "Um, my name's Erin Sanders and I just moved here from Utah." I said quietly. He went around the room and everyone answered in the same monotone voice. Mr. Daniels was doing this just so I'd learn everyone's names, but there was no way I could remember all of them. I didn't even know the kid sitting next to me. Let's just call him Art Boy for now.

We went on talking about some book that they had been reading. Luckily, I'd already read it. It was one of my favorite books. I'd read the thing front and back several times. It was poetry, something I'd liked for a long time, thanks to my father. I'm not naming it, though. It's kind of embarrassing.

The rest of the day went by pretty much the same. Teachers trying to get me into the swing of things, people trying to intercept me, and diving head first right into whatever they'd been working on before. Most of the time I was completely lost. My second best subject was English. My first? Well I was heading right to it: Band, my final class.

My band director was more welcoming than the others. His name was Mr. Erikson. He was a small, thin man. Even so, he had a sensible fashion sense. His eyes were blue and full of kindness. I stood there for a moment before he showed me where my new section would be. I sat in the empty chair on the end. Mr. Erikson told the class to simmer down as we started tuning after the bell rang.

We went ahead and started playing after everyone had been tuned. We played a few songs, stopping when someone made a huge mistake. Mr. Erikson made a few corrections, teaching us what different symbols and words meant. I knew most of the ones he had gone over. I had been playing since the third grade, after all.

Now you're probably wondering what instrument I play, right? Well, it's nothing fancy. Just the flute. The only flute I have ever played is the one my father bought me. It's all I have left of him now.

After band, the bell rang and I packed up my flute. Mr. Erikson told me I could just put it in the designated cabinets. I watched all the others walk over with their instruments and walk off without them.

I looked at the cabinets, then at my flute, "Um, would it be okay if I put it somewhere separate from the others?"

"I can assure you that it will be fine in there," he smiled. He had a slightly higher voice than you would expect out of a male.

"Well," I sighed, "it's just that my dad bought this flute for me and he, um, he passed away not too long ago. This is the only thing I have that's connected to him..."

Mr. Erikson gasped, "Oh, Erin, I'm so sorry. I can put it in my office, if that's okay. Or you could take it home. You don't have to leave it here, you know?"

I handed him my flute, "Thank you very much," I forced a smile.

"You're very welcome, dear" he walked towards his office, putting it away.

I took the opportunity to run out the door. I sighed with relief in the hallway. Now it was finally time to go home. Unfortunately, it was almost a mile walk from the school to my house. After going out the front doors, I crossed the street and walked forever, looking down at my feet. After a while, I looked up at the sky. It looked ominous. That's the kind of thing I like. When the sky is cloudy and it's about to rain. The rain soothes me. I hoped it wouldn't rain until I got home.

It began to rain before I got home, though. Cars passed me, splashing water in all sorts of directions. Some guy actually swerved his car into a puddle so that I would get wet. I just flipped him off and kept walking.

When I got home I walked through the door, sopping wet. I threw my backpack in the corner and stomped up the stairs. "I better not get a cold," I grumbled under my breath.

My mother met me at the top of the stairs. She was a bigger woman at 5 foot 10 and pretty strong. Her blonde hair was an oily mess, "What the hell are you doing? Did you jump into a pond or something? You're getting water all over the floor!" she scolded me.

"Yeah, Mom...because there are plenty of ponds in the city," I retorted, "No, I had to walk home and it started raining. I wouldn't be wet if you'd just pay the money to let me ride the bus," I sighed. She didn't have her license anymore. She lost it when she was younger. Before she had me.

"Erin, I don't have that kind of money. You know that."

"Yeah, but you have enough money to buy your stupid computer games and all your beer and cigarettes, right?"

"I do not spend all the money on that. You need to watch your mouth, little girl," she pointed her stubby finger in my face.

"Okay, can I go get changed now? I don't want to get sick."

Mom moved out of the way, "You better hurry it up"

I sighed and wiggled my way past her. I changed into sweatpants and a tank top. After slinking out of my room, I tried sneaking past my mom. I didn't feel like talking to her. I was going to snap. She made me move away from the few friends that I had and now she was making me walk almost a mile to get to school and she didn't care if it was in the rain, snow, or sunshine.

"Erin, come here," Mom called.

I sighed and walked over, "Yeah?"

"Can you bring me a beer and my cigarettes?" There were three empty cans on her computer desk and an ashtray full of cigarettes.

"Mom, you really need to quit smoking...and drinking. You'll end up like dad."

"I'm not going to die, Erin. Now do what I told you to do." She didn't even look up from her screen.

"Okay," I walked down the stairs and opened the fridge. There were several cans of beer. I picked one up and closed the fridge, turning around and grabbing her cigarettes off the counter. I should've just thrown them in the sink, turned on the water, and poured the beer out. I would've been killed if I did. I learned my lesson the first time I tried getting her to quit. I still have the scar.

I brought it up to her and she opened the beer, taking a big gulp, "Alright, go away."

"Whatever, Mom," I glared. She didn't even hear me. Her headset was on and so was her mic. She was probably talking to Drew. Drew was her best friend. I thought they were more than that, but I never asked.

I went through about the same routine for about a week. This was going to be a long school year. I just couldn't wait to be out on my own.

© 2015 Spencer

Author's Note

I decided to edit and change a few things before I continued with the story.

My Review

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Featured Review

Joshua Carl Cruz

Enjoyable and easy to read which is exactly what I like. A story told without confusion. A bigger town in my humble opinion because we already know it Fairborn and saying a bigger town allows us to nod at the fact it's Fairborn. Then in the second description of the town being bigger try something else. A town is many things and I'd like to hear more about it. Bigger towns don't always mean better schools, especially when it came to their highschool. If the bigger adjective is still in play. I like it and i mean no disrespect inserting my point of view. As a background I am only a guy who loves reading so there's that to take into consideration. I'd figure IT out sooner or later...missed IT lol. Art Boy is superhero sounding or condescending and I think your character is sweeter than that, maybe Arty is cuter for this rationalization. I pulled out my violin...as she stood there or do I assume she sat down to take it out?
I hoped it wouldn't rain before I got home though. It began to rain before I got home. Cars......maybe I'm a sucker for a laugh or the punch up but having my mind trail on the though and then BAM *because of course it was going to rain* the words jump the event to happening like a slap. Anyway, liking the sequence of events here. Oh ok so the Mom right? She is selfish, and wholly unattentive to Erin so why have Erin ask if she can change? The mom in true form only caring about the floor should demand such things of her so I can hate her more. Classic Cinderella story without the glass shoe. thank you so much for writing it. It truly is a working locomotive of a read. Great writing here ladies and gentlemen.