they don't acknowledge what I can do. my gifts are hidden in plain sight, but they will not look.
there was a fire at my home, and I alone lived. and since then, six years of my life have been spent going from home to home, place to place, never belonging anywhere at all. Most people who take me in want a girl to make breakfast and cook for them. I wasn't supposed to know about the one guy they stuck me with, but it wasn't my fault, honest. They had the TV on way to loud.
apparently, he was a gangsta back in the day. But then he became a dealer. he left his apartment at six. I heard him leave. then, at three, the lady from the institution (as we orphans called it) came. she told me to get my things.
not much to get, except the Walkman. every place I go I try and get a job. weed whacking or walking dogs and such. and I have seen the fruit of my labor. a Walkman. My old one wore out, so I bought a new one. I had that Walkman since the fire. but luckily, I had the same Cd to remind me of what I lost. I have an okay collection of Cd's. my first was a green day, my next a Britany spears. Since I paid, I got to pick my Cd's.
music is my life. its strange, what I can do with it. If I hum a certain tune innocently, people feel inclined to tell me the truth. If I hum loudly, they feel inclined to take back something mean they said. I can do anything. so, You're probably thinking, that's great, but where is this going? I can tell you. Kadic High.
I started my day with a grimace on my face. my first day at kadic, and I could barely run a brush through my hair.
I forgot to mention, I'm rich. I know, I know, doesn't look like it, but I only get my inheritance once I go to kadic. (I need a private education to get my money.) I only get twenty dollars a week, but I could use a new shirt, and maybe some jeans to go with it. and a Cd wouldn't kill me. Hilary duff, maybe. or a new green day. but evanescence was quite possible.
either way, I finally finished brushing my hair and put on some lip gloss, some shiny earrings, and some glitter for my cheeks. ensemble complete. Kadic, here I come. my 'agent' (the lady supposed to find me a decent home, which so far she failed miserably at.) was being too cheerful for my taste. something was obviously up. And I don't mean the ceiling. This could quite possibly end in tears.
I grabbed my bag, packed with loving disdain, and headed out of the makeshift room I shared with Camille, my thief room mate. She was lucky no one pressed charges for that box of vanilla wafers. (I had had to carry all my valuables around.) so today, I left for the school of torture. come on. Its me we're talking about here. something was bound and determined to go drastically wrong. But I was prepared. my agent gave me a banana (so much for breakfast) and a pep talk, and we were off.
Poor unsuspecting Kadic. Beverly is on her way.
my agent chattered almost all the way there, about nothing in particular, the weather and such.I just nodded and pretended to care who won the world series. (I'm not really in to sports.) so as soon as we reached our destination, I was the first one out of the car.
my agent came with me to the office to get me settled. "this is Beverly," she said, giving me a small push towards the principal. he gave me a short speech, then handed me my room assignments and found a random student to show me around. "Odd, come here," said the principal. this kid with a spike hairdo with a glob of purple looked over and pointed at himself in a 'who, me?' fashion. the principal sighed. "yes Odd." the poor guy trudged over. "Odd, this is Beverly," said the principal, Delmas or something like that.
"hey Beverly, and welcome to Kadic," said the kid named Odd. "Odd, I'd like you to show Beverly to her classroom. I'll be in my office doing paperwork." well, there goes my chance at being normal. who else has a kid named Odd to show them around? well, here goes nothing.