--~*~--
Chapter One: Looking for a Sunset

There's supposed to be an evening sunset, so I watch for some difference between the clouds. One spot was a little lighter than the rest, but I didn't see anything else. Just clouds and more clouds. Light pattering on my roof alerts me to the fact that rain has fallen.

There goes my little peace that I had for about five minutes. But what could I expect? Nothing. I shouldn't have expected anything, really. Typical of me.

I'm getting too depressed by the rain. Not unusual of me, but freakish by everyone else's standard. I have to shake off the sadness. And desperation.

I'm thinking too much into this. I have to concentrate on something else.

It's only six forty-five. Charlie should be home soon, from work. He doesn't mind that I call him Charlie. He's always told me to call him that, not being all that comfortable with the 'Dad' persona. But, since we don't really know each other well at all, I suppose its okay.

I'm getting too depressed again. I'm going to go make tacos for dinner.

I go downstairs. The lights are still off from when I came home from school earlier. My backpack was still where I left it. I have some homework that needs finishing, but it's not like my teachers care. I turn it in whenever I want, and I can still get away with a C.

Charlie wants me to try harder in school. He says that if he tried harder then he would have been able to go to college and not be stuck here as a police man.

But I know the real reason he didn't go to college: my mom.

I get out the meat from the fridge, trying to distract myself from my depressing thoughts. Depressing thoughts for a depressing life. Depress, depress, depress. That's an odd word. Deeee-press.

I really am going to go insane here.

I get out the lettuce and tomato and the cheese. I turn on the stove and put a pan on it. I put the meat in the microwave and hit defrost. I smile as I hear the crackle of the meat unfreezing. I start to shred the cheddar cheese, keeping my mind focused on that single action.

Shred, shred, shred.

Shred is an odd word too.

Word is an odd word. So is odd.

How odd.

The microwave dings. The meat is defrosted to my satisfaction and I put it on the pan. It make a pleasant tss noise.

I start to chop some of the tomatoes into little pieces. Charlie likes his tomatoes that way. I don't like tomatoes so I don't chop too many.

Chop, chop, chop.

I proceed to shred the lettuce. Shred, shred, shred.

I turn back to the sizzling meat on the stove. I lift it up with a spatula. It's turning a nice brown.

I hear the front door open as Charlie comes in. I hear him putting his gun away and taking his shoes off.

Fifteen minutes down. Another three hours to go until bed time.

And then another nine hours until school again.

Monotony, the perfect drug.

"Isabella?" He calls out.

"Kitchen." I reply.

I hear his lumbering footsteps. That's the only way I can describe the way he walks: lumbering.

"What's cooking?" He asks.

"Tacos."

"I love tacos."

"I know. Me too." I smile at him.

He comes over and kisses my head. His usual greeting.

"How was work today?" I ask politely, knowing he'll give me the same answer as yesterday.

"Same old, same old. How was school?" He goes over to the fridge and gets out a beer.

Budweiser. Light. Of course.

"Ditto."

"Learn anything?"

"Nope." I answer as I turn back to check the meat. Hmm, looking nice. I chop up the meat a little. Move it around some.

He chuckles. "That's good. I'm glad my tax dollars are going some place."

I smile. "Oh, they are. Trust me."

He leans against the fridge, watching me for a moment. "Want some help?" He asks.

I know he doesn't really want to help, so I say, "No. I'm good. Dinner will be ready in about half an hour."

"Sounds nice. I'm going to go watch some T.V."

"Cool," I say as I shred some more cheese.

He stands there for a second before lumbering back into the living room, where he sits down on the same squeaky spot on the same old couch that we've had for forever. Same old, same old.

I hear the television turn on. I mindlessly cook the meat for the next half hour. Mostly it consists of me staring at the floor.

When the meat is done cooking, I chop it all up into tiny pieces and put some taco stuff on it. I mix it around until it's perfect. I turn the stove top off.

"Food's ready." I say.

Charlie hears. He gets up, stretching. "Smells good, Isabella."

Nobody calls me Isabella but him anymore. He didn't get the message in the sixth grade when I changed it to Bella. But I was living with Mom then…

Think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts.

"Thanks, Charlie."

He quickly gets out a tortilla and puts some of the meat, chopped up tomatoes, and lettuce on it.

"Where's the sour cream?"

"Sorry. I forgot." I turn and grab it out of the fridge and hand it to him.

He opens it. "Can you hand me a spoon?"

"Sure." I get out a spoon and hand it to him.

"Thanks."

"Yup."

I make my own taco – just tortilla, meat, and cheese. I like a lot of cheese on my taco.

Inside, I giggle a little at what could be considered a dirty joke.

Outside, my face remains still.

Charlie and I go sit down at the table, where it is facing the television. We eat in silence, except for when he occasionally asks me to pass him something. I do.

Same old, same old.

When I dinner is done, Charlie helps me with the dishes. He puts away the extra food, and I wash and rinse. He dries the dishes and puts them away. I clean off the table.

When we're done with that, it's eight thirty.

"I'm going to go upstairs." I tell him.

"Alright. I'll be down here if you need me." He sits back down on the couch and flips through the very limited amount of channels, searching for something good to watch. I get my backpack to take upstairs.

I hate television. I take the stairs up two at a time to my room.

So I'm back here again.

I spend the next hour doing geometry, English, and science homework. I even decide to do a little Spanish, though I don't really have to. I stop when it's nine-thirty. I stretch and go take my shower.

Nothing new there; I didn't spontaneously grow boobs like I had wished the night before in the shower.

How pathetic.

I sigh, finish rinsing my hair, step out and get a towel. I brush through my hair, wincing when it gets tangled. After a while, the steam from the mirror washes away and I can see myself.

With my hair wet, my skin looks even paler. Dark circles rim my eyes. Worry lines are etched in my forehead.

When had I become so dead looking?

--~*~--

My alarm clock buzzes, bringing me out of a light sleep. I slap the off button and get out of bed. I sit there for a few minutes, watching my feet hit the edge of the bed. I really don't want to go back to school today.

But I get up because I must. I get dressed in an old plain red t-shirt and some jeans. I put my shoulder-length hair back in its usual ponytail. I'm trying to grow it out again, from when I cut it off freshman year.

I pull my sneakers on and go downstairs. Charlie is already gone. I get out a cereal bar and eat it. I get my keys from the key rack and go outside to my truck.

I call her Bessie. Good ol' Bess.

"Hello, Bessie." I say as I climb in. "Hope you didn't get too cold last night."

I turn on the radio, but all I hear is static. I turn it off and pull out of the driveway.

Driving still makes me nervous, even though I got my license a while ago. I drive slowly, carefully. In about fifteen minutes, I'm at school. I brace myself for the coming day.

"Wish me luck, Bess."

I jump out of the car, shut the door behind me. I see them from a distance. They're waiting for me, like always.

"Freak," Lauren whispers as I pass. I ignore her.

Jessica trips me. I catch myself in time.

"Guess you're finally coordinated, klutz."

I don't even bother fighting back anymore. I just stare at her for a moment, shake my head, and walk inside.

"She thinks she's all that doesn't she?" Lauren calls loud enough for me to hear.

"Totally." They giggle.

My hands clench.

Control, Bella. Don't let them get to you.

The hallways are mostly empty. I go to my cubby, located far away from my first period class.

Sadly, we do not have lockers. If we did, I doubt I would get as much hate mail as I do.

There are three notes that weren't there yesterday. I don't bother reading them, like I did last year. They made me cry, and everyone loved to see my reaction.

But I now I can control myself. I have perfected it.

I throw them in the trash can nearby. I get my English journal out and some other things. I know also know better than to leave my jacket behind. Something else I learned last year.

I don't really understand why everyone hates me.

--~*~--

I have had two spitballs thrown at me so far. But it's lunch time. Far better than last year, where I had spitballs thrown at me every period. Now, mostly, I'm ignored. Except from a select few.

Do they know how mean they are? Why do they do that?

Don't ask questions. Remember. Control.

Instead of going to the cafeteria, I go to the library. I sit near the back, away from the doors and the librarian desk hub. I pull out a book to read for the next half hour. It's filled with knights and princesses. Dragons and sword-fighting. Charming princes. Evil witches.

It's sort of like here. I can cast everyone perfectly.

Mike Newton would be Prince Charming. Well, my prince charming anyway. Lauren would be the dragon. Jessica, the hag. Victoria would be…well, I'm not sure which character she would be. She could fit all the evil roles.

I suppose I would be the princess, though that sounds slightly snobby of me.

But I could relate with the princess.

Nobody really gives thought to the princess. She's just the stick figure so that everyone else can get their kicks at playing hero. Or villain. She's tugged in one direction and the other by all the other characters. Never standing a chance…

I sniff. I realize I have been crying. I furiously wipe my tears away. Why should I be crying? It's just a dumb fairy tale. I stuff back into my back pack.

I stare at the table until the bell rings.

I get my backpack, stand up, and go to my next class.

I get tripped once in the hallway. But I just stand up again and keep moving until I get to the classroom. I sit down in the front row.

When that class ends, I go to the last period of the day, and my least favorite: gym.

All my tormentors are there in one place. My personal hell on Earth.

I change my clothes in the bathroom stall. I still get some remarks about how much of a waif I am and how I could be dead. Too skinny. No boy will ever want me.

I am able to ignore them.

Gym passes. The class went better then previous gym classes I had.

The day ends. I change my clothes and go to old Bessie.

And when I go home, I look for the sunset.

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For my other readers, WTWAG is not being abandoned. :)