PROLOGUE:
I'm back again.
New York was fun, but after two years it was finally time to come back to Roswell. When my parents first sent me to Blake Residential Academy for the Arts, I was confused. I lived a comfortable life in Roswell. My best friend Samantha and I did everything together. We were inseparable.
When I left, her teary cornflower blue eyes mirrored my hazel ones. I figured there could be no logic reasoning that my parents had for sending me so far away. But they did. Blake was known for having the uncanny ability to shape the talented people of the country and allow them to hone their talents. My parents believed that I had more to offer the world. Blake gave me the opportunity to experience the freedom I thought I wanted.
At Blake I made countless mistakes, and I did some things that I'm definitely not proud of. But the one thing that I can take from my experience at Blake was that I can't rewrite the past, so what's the point of regretting what's already done?
The city of Roswell knew that "sweet" Rayne Dura was coming back for her senior year. No one knew what exactly the Blake Residential Academy for the Arts taught outside of the classroom. I'd like to keep it that way. Now that I'm back no one can break me.
This time I'll be Durable.
Chapter 1:
The word of my arrival spread around town quickly. It was probably due to my best friend Samantha's screaming and overly enthusiastic "victory dances" (spastic movements). When I called her to give her the date of my arrival her "jubilant squeals" (banshee screams) practically busted the ear piece of my phone.
It was nice to be welcomed back with open arms. Literally. Sam took it upon herself to call my parents and assure them that she was more than capable of picking me up from the airport. That's great and all, but the problem is no one told me.
It was supposed to be a "surprise."
Haven't my parents learned by now that Samantha Trainer's surprises usually ended up with me physically injured in some way? They weren't usually major injuries, they were just unnecessary.
So when I got off the plane and started walking toward baggage claim I was tackled to the ground by a mess of black and cornflower blue. Ouch.
"RAAAAYYYNNNEEE!"
"Sam?" I asked, clearly confused.
"Surprise! What kind of best friend would I be if I didn't come and greet you at the airport? By the way, as your best friend, I have come to the conclusion that you are never EVER going to leave me that long EVER again! I can only take so much distance! New York is a long way from Roswell."
"Ahem. Sam?"
"Yes Rayne?"
"GET OFF!"
She jumped up and smiled sheepishly. She even had the decency to blush.
"Sorry Rayne, I just missed you so much! How was New York?"
"It was…different." We started walking.
"Did you meet any new boys?" Of course she would ask that. Let's take a trip down memory lane. Sam and I are in preschool. Imagine me in a frilly little dress with my black curls in a bow. I'm sitting with some of the kids and we're all coloring away. Across the room, however, a poor little boy is being chased down by my best friend shouting "NOOO! I don't want a kiss!" This little incident marked the beginning of Sam's boy-craziness. She was four. After thirteen years she's still no different.
"There were some," I paused "and there were others." I said bitterly.
"Wow, that wasn't vague at all…"
"I'm nothing if not a woman of mystery." I hoped she would catch the hint. She stopped dead in her tracks and raised her eyebrows. I shrugged and kept walking.
"A woman? Details! I want details!" she practically shouted.
"Sam, maybe you haven't noticed but we are in an airport, with lots of people. This is not the place to share details!" I hissed dangerously. She just laughed. And as much as I didn't want to I laughed too. Goodness I missed this place. I'm glad I'm back.