I've never been...outstanding. Well in the social sense anyways. I've always been kinda a wallflower, someone everybody looks over. Course this did not help my self-esteem when I was little...more or less convinced me that adults only looked after me because you know, it was their job. At least, most adults anyways.

My parents were always busy when I was younger. They never really hung around much in general anyways so I didn't really mind. Besides, that normally meant my Grandmama would watch me, and that was always the best. She'd make cookies with me, help me with my homework, everything I couldn't normally get my parents to do. But the best part of Grandmama's babysitting were her stories. They were always about a witch with a magical amulet who helped people around her village. The stories were so fantastical and full of grandeur that I genuinely believed in them. Up until I was seven, I thought there was a magical witch who helped people and was a good person.

Then it all crumbled.

My Grandmama died when I was eight. Doctors say it was because of a heart attack, but knowing what I know now...I doubt it.

Soon after, my parents and I moved. I'm not completely sure why. I think Dad had gotten a promotion, but it could've been that he got fired or relocated too. I also stopped believing in the old stories Grandmama told me. I figured if there really was a good witch out there, she wouldn't have let her die. But life went on as normal as I finished up elementary school and continued onto middle. And then the last week of eighth grade hit.

"WE'RE DOING WHAT?!" I yelled, trying to process what my mom said.

The woman who birthed me rolled her eyes in response. "Do not yell at me for one, and for two I said we're moving back to Norrisville." She sorted through the paperwork she had on her desk and continued with a bitter tone, "Your father and I are getting divorced, and I would rather not stay in the same town with him any longer than I need to."

I sighed and stomped up to my room. I would've been fine if I had been told about this, like, a month ago. But Dad was found out to be having "relations" with his clients, and thus the divorce announcement was made.

Plopping down on my bed, I dug around under my mass collection of pillows for my phone. I pulled out a few things; a candy bar that was completely melted, a broken watch, and an old yearbook from my elementary school back in Norrisville. I decided against looking for my phone some more, opting to call it later, and started reading through the old pictures.

I could barely remember half these kids, but some faces seemed familiar. Stevens with his kazoo, Bashford and his...idiocy, all vague things I can remember. Then I found my picture. Squeezed right between Noah Caulson and Randall Cunningham. Nikayla Clemmons, age six.

After looking through the old book for a while, Mom called me down for dinner. There was an empty seat at the table that I just couldn't get used to, even though Dad's been gone for about a week now. After poking and prodding at my food while my mother was writing stuff down that we needed to pack, I gave up on trying to eat and excused myself from the table.

This was going to be interesting.