What Divides Us

Let the Games Begin

             Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if my parents were still alive.  The agency claims to have no files on my parents, so I know next to nothing about them.  All I know was that their names were Justin and Veronica Pennington.  Was my mother a doctor?  Was my father a lawyer?  Were they kind people?  Were they smart?  Were they immoral?  I have so many unanswered questions that my head feels as if it is about to burst. 

Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I was a normal kid.  A normal kid who ate normal cereal, took the normal bus to a normal school, and had normal friends.  As my mission nears, the idea of living a normal life (temporary, as it may be) appeals to me.  I feel like this experience will somehow bring me closer to my mom and dad.  Maybe my mom was a math nerd and my dad was an all-star baseball player in high school.  Every time I think about them, a wistful smile plays on my lips. 

Now, sitting in the passenger seat of Caleb’s van, I absently fiddle with my russet leather shoulder bag.  Much to my inconvenience, Lucas did not live in New York where I happened to be located.  No.  He had to live in California, a place filled with overly tan, preppy, loud, and shallow people.  And now I have to try to act like them.  Plus I hate warm weather; I miss the cool temperature of the Big Apple.  I huff and look at the side view mirror and scowl at my reflection.  Large painted hazel eyes glare back at me with ruby lips snarling.  Tossing my coiled brunette locks over my shoulder, I sit a little straighter and smile with my mouth closed.  Michelle ordered me to never smile with my teeth showing.  She claimed that I looked like I was grimacing.  Apparently, my everyday appearance had to be altered and I have to practice looking approachable and friendly.  Gosh, I hate this make up crap.  Personally, I think that I looked perfectly fine before.  So what if I didn’t put any emphasis on my looks!  Sue me.

The van slows to a halt in front of Brighton High, the smallest public school in California, but somehow located in the middle of nowhere.  I pull out the photo and take a look at Lucas’s face one last time.  Less than one day to find this body in a mass of less than 800 people.

“Things are achieved when they are begun,” Caleb’s voice interrupts my calculations with a clever quote.

“George Elliot?” I guess as I scan the front of the school.  Students seem to be heading into the school in separate groups.  It appears that no one travels alone, they must be with another individual.  That’s odd. They travel in packs, like wolves.  How barbaric…

“Yup.  Good luck.”  He hands me the tiny earpiece that I quickly put into place.  “Testing, Testing 1, 2, 3?”

“All good,” I say.  I quickly hug him and exit the car with my bag slung on my shoulder.

“Have a great day princess!!!” he yells as he hangs halfway out the car.  Heat slowly climbs up my neck and settles in my cheeks.  I whip my head around and flip him off; I can hear his deep cackle as he speeds away.  Making my way to the entrance of the school, I sense that a few people are looking in my direction.  They must be wondering who I am, and who Caleb was.  I brush it off; they can look all they want, I don’t really care.  I’m here for one thing only: Lucas.  Let them stare.

Through the earpiece, Caleb directs me through the boisterous hallways, toward the main office.  As I enter, I smooth the wrinkles out of my rosy sundress.  I march to the front desk.  “I need my schedule,” I demand and hold out my hand. 

I hear Caleb snort through the earpiece.  “Try being friendlier,” he suggests as he muffles his laughter.  I roll my eyes. 

The woman looks up at me with a startled expression.  I look at her name plate: Mrs. Foster.  “Of course dear.”  She rummages through the large stacks of paper on her cheaply painted desk.  Her wide eyes are a dead give away to her fear.  Good, she should fear me.  I literally could kill her if I felt it was necessary.  But I probably won’t.