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I snorted in disbelief.

She had to be lying. She was trying to play some type of trick on me or something. I turned around in my seat and looked through my classmates. Who I was looking for I had no clue, maybe Chucky or blondie, but they weren’t in this class.

“Whatever this is, just leave me alone,” I told her harshly.

Her eyes got big and a look of hurt crossed over her pretty face. “I’m trying to be nice to you,” she told me.

I wasn’t so sure about that. Nobody had been nice to me the whole day and I did not trust this girl at all. I had no reason to trust her.

“Right,” I muttered disbelievingly.

“You know, you’re not very nice.”

I wasn’t very nice? Who the hell was this girl kidding? Instead of responding I sat facing forward in my seat and ignored her.

When I didn’t respond, she huffed out an irritated breath, flipped her blonde locks over her shoulder and started to pay attention to the movie that was playing on the tv the teacher had wheeled into the classroom when we’d first taken o

ur seats. Why we were watching a movie in a creative writing class on the first day of school baffled me, especially when the movie itself had not one thing to do with writing and everything to do with some famous, dead baseball player, I had no clue.

Her ignoring me suited me just fine. Still, the rest of the hour seemed to drag on forever. The movie turned out to be terrible and I found myself disappointed because I had really been looking forward to the class. The teachers in this school were horrible.

When the bell rang, I had the strap of my bag over my shoulder and I bolted for the door. I was the first person out the door. The hallway quickly filled up as I made my way to the exit. There were more kids in this school than I had originally thought.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to take the bus so once I cleared the parking lot I wouldn’t have to be subjected to these horrid people until the next morning.

Mr. Cole had given my mother a red, sporty convertible to drive around when we first arrived here. It was a lavish gift and my mother couldn’t have been more pleased with him. I don’t even want to know what she gifted him with in return. I was thrilled because it meant she gave me her old car. An old, army green Volkswagen Beetle. The Bug was rusted around the bottom and clearly had seen better days. I didn’t care about those superficial details. It ran good and gave me a sense of freedom that I desperately craved. I loved it.

As I made it to my car in the parking lot a two-door, black Audi raced by me, Tyson behind the wheel. I fought back the urge to flip him the bird. With all the eyes, I knew were probably on me I didn’t dare raise my middle finger in the air. It would just give them another reason to gawk and point their fingers at me.

I got in my own car and quickly, but safely, drove away from what had become my own personal hell.

Chapter Three

“How was your first day at the new school, honey? Did you make any friends yet?” My mother asked me as soon as I walked through the front door. Almost like she’d been sitting there waiting for me. This was for show. She didn’t want the big man of the house to know she could give a shit less about how my first day went. Or how I was. Or anything about me for that matter. He’d care about those things more than she did. She had one thing, and one thing only, that she cared about and that was herself. But hey, if pretending to give a crap about me kept her in fancy clothes, Grey Goose, a sporty, red convertible and she never had to work again ever, then she’d do it with ease.

My mother was a real piece of work and I did not want to have a conversation with her. Not after the horrid day I’d had.

“Fine,” I muttered, but said no more.

“That’s good to hear, dear,” she cheerily called back, making it blatantly obvious she didn’t really care at all. If she had cared she would have been able to tell from my tone that I was devastated and most certainly not fine. Or, if she had bothered to even glance my way she would have seen it on my face.

I looked at my mother. She was seated regally on a lounge chair, back ramrod straight, legs crossed at the ankles. Her ash blonde hair perfectly coiffed, she wore a sun dress that was so far from her usual tight clothes it wasn’t even funny. Even though we were inside she had an expensive looking pair of black heels on her feet. She’d never worn shoes when she was at home before we’d come here, she liked to be barefoot at home. She had a glass of dark, red wine in her right hand. She never drank wine. She hated wine. Always, she drank vodka on the rocks. Until coming here. Briefly, I wondered if she had to choke it down.

I took all this in and I couldn’t help but resent her for the awful day I’d had. There she sat sipping on a glass of wine (at the moment I didn’t care if she hated it) looking like she’d had a relaxing day filled with lounging around the house in her expensive heels (even when I knew she liked to be barefoot around the house) when I had been through hell. And it was all her fault. Even if it wasn’t entirely her fault I planned on blaming here for it all the same.

“How was your day, mother?” I couldn’t help but snidely ask. Not that I really cared about how her day had been.

“Lovely, dear.” She murmured and took a healthy swig of her wine. “Just lovely. I’m so happy here. I think this is going to work out just swell for us. Don’t you think, honey?”

Honey? Dear? She was laying it on a bit thick, if you asked me. She’d never referred to me by those endearments before coming here. Even when she had other men around to suck dry she’d never gone this route before. I’d always been ‘girl’ to her. She’d spill her drink and snap at me, “Clean this shit up, girl, and when you’re done you can make me a new one.” Heck, half the time it seemed like she didn’t even remember my name, the name she’d given me.

I assumed Mr. Cole had something to do with this change. He seemed to genuinely love his children and they openly returned that love in spades. Which is partially why they hated my money grubbing mother on sight. He treated me with genuine warmth as well. Mommy Dearest wouldn’t want him to think badly of her, now would she?

“Yes, mother.” I dutifully answered her. “I think we are going to be very happy here.” A partial lie because even though I might not find happiness here that wouldn’t stop her from finding it.

“Yes, well…” she took a sip of her wine before she continued, “Go and do your homework or something.”

I took this as her polite way of saying she’d done her motherly duty for the day, now I needed to get out of her sight and leave her in peace so she could pretend that I didn’t exist again.