I knew I was going for Remmie's own good. I knew that if everything worked out for Remmie, I would be ok. Because, well, something had to make up for her crying in her room every night, wondering why I refuse to call her mom. And I'm not calling her mom. I'm just too cool. So I settled on moving to Pitchforks. It sounded like a safe enough town.
Besides, she wanted to live with Pedro now, and I was not going to be the one to step in her way. I just hoped she'd return the favor when I fall ridiculously in love beyond all reason- because I will, you can count on that.
As her car sped through the traffic, I leaned my head out the window, noticing again the paleness of my skin, so white that one could swear I was a vampire, or else part albino. This saddened me, as I knew I was going to need a lot more bottles of spray tan if I was going to make it in a town like Pitchforks, Washington. You know why it's in Washington, right? Because the rain is always washing that town! Yeah, that's what I call a clever play on words.
We approached the airport all too quickly, and it was time for me to pass Remmie over to the sitter. What, you thought I was going to leave people like Remmie and Pedro to fend for themselves? They wouldn't survive the day without me. After spraying myself with a few bottles of tan, I met the sitter in the airport lobby. She was a very good-looking young woman, so I knew I had made the perfect choice. After handing her a list of all the emergency numbers that Remmie and I often forgot- like 911- I scurried off to make my flight, fashionably late.
The plane ride was long, and no one of particular value boarded, as no one was very attractive. I spent the majority of the ride looking out the window at the pure whiteness of the white clouds, wishing that I could meet a man so very white. It put a new perspective on my own white skin, and decided that it beat the orange of my spray-tan. I thought about taking a shower to wash off the spray, but soon remembered that Charles had only a single shower. Ugh. I probably wouldn't get a turn until next week or something.
"Hey Belz," was his only greeting as he stalked awkwardly toward me, helping unload my bags. I'm not sure if he meant it with a 'z', but it sure does look cooler that way. After piling them into his car, Charles shut the door for me. Sigh. He just crossed the line to over helpful.
The day was muggy and dim, such that the diamonds encrusted in my favorite bracelet failed to glitter. I wondered absently whether a man with the skin of diamonds might sparkle on a day like that one.
"So Belz," Charles began, "I, uh, I bought you a car."
That was the great thing about Charles, he used gifts instead of words. I was suddenly ecstatic, and began to ramble,
"Really? What's the make? Model? Miles per gallon? Torque? Engine? Square route of pi?"
He gazed at me, dumfounded, "It was free," he said simply. I smiled.
"Good," I affirmed, "I know nothing about cars."
It was a huge, a monstrous car, with a roaring engine that rattled the whole vehicle. The sound deafened my ears and the vibrating milled my neck, thrusting my head loosely around my shoulders as I attempted to control the beast. Plus, it was red. I loved it.
"Holy Swan!" I shrieked, pulling the door open and leaping inside, "I bet I'll fit right in at school. Thanks, Charles!"
Charles grunted a few inaudible grumbles in response, turning into the house, his face as red as the car itself. I wondered inattentively where Charles had gotten a car like this free, when suddenly outside my car's window, two russet-skinned males quickly approached. They were both dressed rather posh, adorned with suits and ties. One of them was attractive. Oh yeah, and one was in a wheel chair- but he was old.
The attractive one spoke first.
"I see Charles gave you the truck," he smiled. His smile was warm, but I preferred colder, more morose guys. It was then that I knew we'd be best friends.
"I'm Wolfgang White," the boy went on. He was a little over friendly, but his attractiveness made up for it, "And this is my dad. We live up on the La Posh reservation."
"Hey," I replied, but could think of nothing more. Perhaps I had inherited some of my father's socially awkwardness. Funny, I was sure I had no negative traits. At that thought, I opened the car door to further converse with him and rid myself of my potential flaw, when my foot missed the pavement and I fell flat on my face in a pool of muddy grime. Oh yeah, I was insanely clumsy. Right.
The boy laughed, and I smiled. Better than being socially awkward, I guess.
"So are you the people Charles got this truck from?"
The two nodded, and the less attractive man, who called himself Willy- Willy White, excused himself to go talk to Charles. Two things disturbed me about that man: one, how anyone could converse with someone as socially awkward as Charles, and two, why anyone would rather be with him than me. But maybe unattractive people were just stupid too.
But I was glad to be alone with the attractive boy- Wolfgang. He began to blabber on about the vehicle, using fancy terminology I couldn't understand, knowing nothing about cars. He didn't, however, mention the square route of pi, so he really couldn't be that smart.
When I finally made my way to my new bedroom, I was met with a tornado of purple. The walls, the bedspread, the wall-to-wall rug, it all looked as through the purple people eater exploded.
"You like purple, right?" Charles asked. I didn't respond, but it didn't matter, because pretty soon he had receded down the stairs. He didn't want conversation.
But seriously. Who could like purple that much?
Purple and orange don't go. So I took a shower. I was surprised at how soon I was able to shower, seeing as we had only one, but I guessed Charles had little hygiene. That was usually true with socially awkward people. I wondered, though, if he'd mind that my orange spray tan had dyed the shower floor. So I scrubbed it down. And while I was at it, I scrubbed the rest of the bathroom, before going on to the purple room. Though the orange came out, the purple stayed. Note to self: Buy some bleach. White was becoming more and more attractive to me…
The next morning, I found that Charles was gone, but he'd left my breakfast on the stove. It was some concoction that slightly resembled oatmeal, but I wasn't about to try it- I wouldn't risk it. So after rummaging through a few cabinets, all of which were free of anything remotely edible, I decided that I would just have to skip breakfast, and do some shopping on the way home. And the cooking. Fun.
My car stuck out like a sore thumb, which isn't a very clever metaphor, because I've never actually noticed anyone's thumb being sore. But, it stuck out. That was ok though, I was never one to just fit in; I wanted to stand out. The only cars that rivaled mine in terms of not fitting in would be the brand spanking new shiny vehicles of which I couldn't identify, knowing nothing about cars… well, one of them was a shiny silver Volvo C30, 5-cylinder engine, 227 horsepower and 236 lb-ft of torque, 1.77245385. Yeah, I'm pretty smart. School was going to be a piece of cake.
I was right, for the most part. English consisted entirely of books I read when I was like, five or something- you know, Shakespeare, Dickens, Homer, Machiavelli… Kids stuff. But, leaving that class, I met a girl in the hallway. She was energetic and pretty enough, with bouncing brown curls and a fair complexion.
"Hi, I'm Lacey Stanley. You must be Isabel Crow, right?" Of course, she already knew me.
"Bel, I like Bel. It's three letters, easier to spell and stuff." I said, humorlessly.
"Ok… well anyway, like, we totally should hang out. What class do you have next?"
I had to fight rolling my eyes. Usually I was a very friendly person, but I wasn't in the mood,
"Well, I think its lunch…" I said.
"Cool! I have lunch this period too. Sit with me?" she pressed, excitedly. I consented, totally doing her a favor.
When we got to the table, a boy with wispy black hair who looked partially Asian stood up and greeted us,
"Well if it isn't Bel Crow and Lacey," He smiled, "I've heard a lot about you, Bel. You're like, front-page news!"
I knew that I would be popular, but that was just too much, "No news articles, please," I smiled, blushing red.
"Um, I was just jok-" the boy began but Lacey cut him off,
"Ok, Bel, so that one's Terrie Yorkshire," she said, pointing to the black-haired boy, "That one there is Charlotte Webber, and oh, look, Mickey's coming!"
She continued to introduce the other people at the table, but I couldn't be bothered paying attention, as Mickey approached the table. He was the most appealing boy that I'd seen all day, with a sweet, round face and cute blonde hair and a welcoming smile that didn't seem over-friendly at all. Until he introduced himself,
"Hey, Isabel, I'm Mickey Figs. My parents own that Sporting Goods store down the street. Stop by if you need a job or something, they're always looking for another hand."
Ha, nice ploy, kid. He was trying way too hard with the job offer, and didn't he know I preferred Bel? We'd still be friends, he was hot enough for that, but never more.
"It's Bel," I said, rather sharply. The group of over-friendly kids battered me with ridiculous questions like, what was up and how I liked the school, if my classes were turned out fine, and obnoxious intrusive questions like that. I watched the door carefully, hoping there would be more attractive kids than these to hang out with. I was in luck.
"Who are they?" I demanded, as a group of five students made their way across the room. They seemed to flow across the ground, fluid like liquid, dancing… Their skin was pale white, their eyes dark with thick purple bags. Malnourishment was so sexy.
"Those… are the Sullens." Lacey replied with an ominous air.
"The Sullens?" I repeated. Even their name sounded unhealthy.
"Yeah, a group of incestuous anorexic insomniacs living with the Doctor and his wife."
"Incestuous anorexic insomniacs?" I had a knack for repeating things.
She nodded, "They never eat anything, just watch. And those bags under their eyes, really, have they ever slept? Plus, they're all like, together. Rose, the gorgeous one, and Emerson, the hulk-ish one, they're a thing. Then Jackson, he's like, always in pain, and his girlfriend, the little one, called Alicia. She's a freak, never stops dancing, and yet I've never seen her at a dance- probably things she's too good for us. Never worn the same thing twice, either, not like I care… I mean we all can't have rich doctor match maker daddies…"
"They're not really related, though," Charlotte piped in, "Doctor Sullen just adopted them all."
"Still, they're like, legally related… It's still weird," Lacey pressed.
"Who's that one?" I cut in, "The last one."
"Oh, him?" Lacey chimed, with pointed disregard, "That's just Edmund. Don't bother with him. He says he doesn't date. Apparently no one here is good enough for him."
Mickey punched her playfully in the arm, "Sour grapes!" he laughed, "Can you tell she's been turned down by him?"
Lacey shot him a spiteful look and he turned to me. After throwing me an odd expression, he said, in a rather confused tone,
"Look, Bel, he's staring at you," before adding with too much emphasis, "that freak."
I looked. Surely enough, his dark, sunken eyes were fixated on me, a penetrating expression on his too-pale face. True to Lacey's word, none of the Sullens had eaten anything, though Emerson animatedly tearing apart a chicken leg and thrusting the pieces about his dish and Alicia was attempting to appear as though she was eating by shifting her mashed potatoes about her plate. Jackson did nothing but squeeze the edge of the table, mumbling something to himself, or possibly to his girlfriend- and sister- beside him. Rose wasn't even attempting to look like she was eating, but rather stared disgustedly at the plate in front of her, and lastly Edmund, who was too preoccupied with glaring at me to bother putting on a façade either. I would be staring at me too, but not in that angry, irritated manner…
"Hey, Bel," Lacey called, interrupting my thoughts. I don't think too often, so it was kind of a shame for her to cut them off like that, "What class do you have next?" Apparently the lunch bell had gone off while I was lost in thought. Cool, I was actually lost in thought. Only someone as hot and underfed as Edmund could accomplish that, I guessed.
"Um… science, I think. Yeah, Biology or something like that. I probably already know it all anyway. My school was so much further ahead of yours."
She walked in pace beside me as we headed to class.
"Ew, like, I know. I hate this school. So anyways, I totally want to be seen walking with you- I mean, do you want me to walk you there? Show you the way and stuff?"
"Sure, whatever." Why was everyone in Pitchforks so over-helpful?
As we walked she began to ramble about ridiculous trivial things I couldn't care less about, like, 'Bel, my grandmother died last week' or 'Bel, there's tons of oil spilling out in the gulf coast,' and 'Oh, Bel, look out for that pole!' and then she even shoved me! The nerve.
When we finally arrived at Biology, I was glad to be rid of her. I took my place next to Edmund, even though everyone else was begging to sit with me. I had to inform them that the teacher was forcing me to sit with Edmund, which was only partially true. He was also the only attractive guy there, aside from Mickey, and we'd already established that we were just going to be friends. Well, at least, I got the message. Some people are just slow, and don't know the square route of pi or anything.
"Really impressive, your self-control." I said slyly, seating myself down next to the model-gorgeous Sullen.
He had a pained expression in his dark, insomnious eyes. He let out a breath, stifling another, only to reply,
"What-?"
" I know your secret. You're not fooling anyone."
He looked really terrified now, "How-?" but he didn't have enough breath left to finish the sentence, and didn't bother to take another. He sat there, one hand cupped over his nose and mouth, the other gripping the table, motionlessly, as though he wasn't breathing. He really wasn't breathing. After a while I thought perhaps Lacey needed to add 'Apneist,' to her list. Incestuous Insomnious Anorexic Apneist… How sexy.
The final class of the day was gym. Oh, joy. The gym teacher told us that we don't change for gym class because the tiny school wasn't big enough to have a locker room or something, and the little bathrooms wouldn't fit everyone at once, so it would cut too much time into our class. So? Not like gym class matters or anything.
So I didn't try. I mean, I'm pretty sure everyone can hit a ball with a racket; it's like, not that hard. But sweat, that's gross. Plus my flaws made it almost assured that I would fall flat on my face. Oh, excuse me, I mean flaw, in the singular.
Over the next few days, Edmund didn't show up at lunch, or in Biology. His seat remained perpetually empty. Therefore, I was positively sure of one of three assumptions, that may or may not be true; he was going to a rehab hospital for his anorexia, he was hiding from me, because I knew his secret, which is silly because like, everyone knows but I guess he wasn't aware of that, or third, he held his breath a few seconds too long. But I think the school would have informed us if he died, so the former two were more likely.