I have always waited for a fairytale ending. I thought at the beginning of 10th grade, going to boarding school was mine. After a year of name calling after the Winter Dance fiasco, I was more then ready to get away from this stupid town. I truly believed I was getting out of this, this easily. My own fairytale ending. Fairytale ending my ass.
Well, here I am again. Back on this couch. Back waiting outside the social worker's office. Waiting. Waiting for a happily ever after that will never come.
I had been waiting for that dang social worker for over thirty minutes. What else could she be doing? She didn't have anyone else in her office. Well it's not like I'm in a rush to go back to that boring town anyways. Angela, my social worker/ counselor/almost aunt, was supposedly good for "Helping me deal with how I feel about a situation and also what I can do about." Personally, I think she's really only good for scaring the crap out of me and telling me things I already know.
I propped my feet up and decided to reminisce on the events that brought me to this oh so happy situation.
It all started when we moved to this boring town called Forks in 9th grade. It was one of the most average towns you could live in.
The school was pretty nice. I made a couple of friends, but they all abandoned me after the winter dance. They liked me but were too chicken to stay by my side when the teasing started. Most people didn't know what had really happened at the dance. I wanted to keep it that way. Compared to what really happened, handling a few cruel remarks was nothing.
"C.C! I haven't seen you in so long! How have you been? Just leave your stuff here and come into my office," Said Angela, interrupting my thoughts and making me jump about a half a foot in the air.
"God, Angela! Do you have to scare me like that?" I said, my voice clearly showing my annoyance. I know I sometimes acted like I hated her, but deep down I loved her like a sister. I was all about tough love.
"Sorry. Now come on, I've made you wait enough."
I took her hand so she could guide me to the door. I'm usually independent, but if I didn't , and tried to feel around for the door by myself I would end up with a bruised knee. And arm. And shin.
I'm not clumsy. I'm just blind. According to the internet, my name is "Latinate feminine form of the Roman family name Caecilius, which was derived from Latin caecus , which means blind. I also share my middle name with St. Lucy, the patron saint of the blind. Ironic, huh? Welcome to my life: full of irony and carma.
She guided me to a chair in her office. "C, I know you really loved going to that boarding school for the blind, but now that your Mom's money has run out, no one can pay for it. Your Father insists you can manage in regular school. Is this true?"
"I guess I can, at the school they taught ways to live blind with as little help as possible."
"Would you want to go back? It's your best option."
"It's my best option, so yeah, I'll go for it." I said. I knew most kids at the school wouldn't recognize me. I had changed so much since then. But even if they did, I doubt they care.
She exclaimed brightly, "Great! I'm supposed to drive you to your dad's apartment tomorrow. You're going to sleepover at my house tonight! Let's go!"
Ugh. Brightness, optimism, and hope, oh my. I hate hope passionately, almost as much as I hate guys. It gets your hopes up and lets you down every time. But, I didn't want to hurt her feelings so I responded with a bright, but kinda weak "Let's go!" Here we go again.