“If only I could get my flowers to look as pretty as these,” my grandmother says as we inch closer to the drop off point.
“Probably fake, anyway,” I mutter.
“Pick one for me and wear it behind your ear for the day and let me know if they are real or not,” she says patting my hair. “A purple one will look so pretty on you with your new green and white uniform.
I roll my eyes and look down at this thing I’m wearing. I would only have worn something like this as a Halloween costume back at home with my friends in the city. The green and white plaid skirt pleated skirt stop right above my knees. I glance down further to my white calf high socks stretched above my black mary janes. At least, my grandmother allowed me to wear my shoes. She thought they looked perfect with this stupid getup.
The white polo with the green school symbol, an eagle with a crown above its head, on the left is inside of the skirt’s waist at my grandmother’s insistence. By the end of the day, I will probably pull it out. I am so thankful the green blazer is not required attire. They know nobody can keep those on in this Florida humidity.
My dark brown hair falls over the crest as I peer down at the silly thing. I left it out for now but packed a black scrunchy in my backpack for later in the day to pull my thick hair it a low ponytail when the heat starts getting to me. I smack lips to make sure the lip gloss I applied is still holding on to keep my lips moist. I like to wear eyeliner and mascara, but decided to go without the eyeliner for today until I get used to this place. They don’t deserve to see my best face because I don’t even want anyone to look my way in this fake place.
“Give them your best, dear,” says my grandmother unlocking the doors to let me get out.
She pulls me over for a hug.
“Greenfield Academy, ugh,” I say against her silver hair.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine here,” she says pulling back into her seat and letting me go.
“Yes, I’m good anywhere, but I’m even better back in New York,” I say grabbing my lightweight backpack from the back seat.
“If only we could have sent your mother to a school like this, she would have turned out so…” her voice trails off.
I look over at her to see a lone tear fall to her cheek. I turn away not ready to deal with her emotions about my mother I have my own problems with her to deal with later and an even bigger issue with this new school at the moment. She can save the tears for when she’s home alone in her room reminiscing about all the problems she had with my mother.
Believe me, I get it.
She was disappointed.
I am disappointed now.
She was hurt.
I am hurt now.
I can’t even sleep through the night without waking up to think about my mother.
“I cannot make you feel sad on your first day at this great school,” she says wiping her cheek. “Go on and make your mark.”
I stand on the sidewalk for a moment as my grandmother honks the horn at me.
“Go on dear,” she yells out of the passenger side window.
I walk off, hoping nobody is paying attention to my grandmother.
I act like I don’t know her and walk under the stucco arch along with the other students. They drift off into various directions as we enter a courtyard. I can hear them greeting friends who they haven’t seen over the summer.
Greenfield Academy is for grades seven through twelve. I’m coming in at grade twelve and I don’t know any of these people. I walk a bit slower to take in the crowd. They all appear to be happy to see each other and happy to be here.
I am none of those.
I am ready for classes to start, at least I would not look like a loner walking out here.
I don’t want them to know, Aleta Saunders is the new girl with no friends.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Good morning.”
I jump at the greeting as I turn to see a tall girl walking alongside me. She has hazel almond-shaped eyes, red pouty lips, and short black bob. Her slender frame makes her look like a supermodel.
Why is she here?
Shouldn’t she be walking the runways of Milan and Paris?
She makes me feel like she does not fit in here too. With everyone else looking like they have been on lying on the beaches all summer, we look like we just came from the cold city skyscrapers.
“I hope you don’t mind me talking to you,” she says to me with a sweet smile. “You remind me of how I was two years ago when I was the new girl on campus.”
She even talks with an accent I cannot place, but I know she’s not originally from south Florida.
“Good morning,” I say. “Yes, I am new here.”
She stops and clasps her hands together, “Yay, you’re a New Yorker. I just love New York and I love your accent.”
I want to ask her why isn’t she working for a big modeling agency in Manhattan because she is model material, but I don’t want to come across as weird.
“Thank you, I guess,” I say cocking my head to the side. “I hear an accent in your voice too, but I don’t know where it’s from.”
“Oh me, I’m from New Zealand and cannot wait to go back,” she laughs.
“New Zealand?” I ask in a high pitched voice. “I never met anyone from New Zealand. I barely know where it is in the world.”
“Well, now you have and it’s on the other side of the planet. I’m the only
