Hated

1. Chapter One

The little ferry bobbed up and down in the water, waves lapping and beating against the sides as it carried on its way. My stomach churned a little at the smaller motions; not that I'd ever admit to being sea-sick. The bigger waves I could handle, the crashing swells and sudden dips and rises of an angry sea. It was the gentle, insistent swaying that seeped beneath my skin and threatened to overboil my stomach.

"I hate this," I grumbled quietly, my face growing red once I realised mum had heard.

"I know honey, but it was needed."

"It's okay mum," I sighed, leaning back on the railing and letting the salty spray fizzle across my face, "I meant the boat."

"Oh, well, I'm sorry about that. I thought it would be easier than trying to get a plane. Apparently their airport isn't very large."

"I'd imagine not. Why'd we have to move out here again?"

She gave me a stern look, which told me to stop my petty remarks. I knew why we'd left the city for this rural, remote island that was finally approaching in the distance. Mum wasn't cut out for the city living, but I didn't think she'd go straight to the next extreme. Being a farmer had sounded like an amazing adventure. I just never realised my nerdy, artistic mother would catch a job in a fish farm, of all places.

Yet she had, and here we were. Going into my last year of high school, just a few months off turning eighteen and gaining a life of my own, I'd been picked up and shipped off to some foreign land that smelled like rotting seaweed and dead fish. Literally, shipped.

Of course, I was still mildly thrilled with the adventure of it, but for the moment I was mostly sour to have been separated from my friends and the familiarity of my hometown. Add in being dumped in a new school, in the most stressful year of my schooling experience, and without any knowledge of the area we were about to call home, and I was a mess. A stressing, nauseous, sour mess.

"Look, we're almost there," Mum pointed out, and I followed her gaze. A small outcropping of rocks stretched out to the right of us, and I followed it all the way to the mainland. She was right; we were close now.

I moved towards the bow, struggling to see from the passengers area forwards to where we might be docking. I only had to wait a few more minutes before the bustling sound of business hit my ears, and shortly after I caught the glimpse of warehouses and jetty's extending out into the waters of the harbour. The outcropping beside us seemed to wrap around the harbour, creating a protective cove for the boats and the buildings along the harbour and docks. I wondered if it was a natural formation or man-made.

Then the ferry docked, the slow process of tying up and yelling at other crew began, and we got to work gathering our bags.

"Mum?" I asked, looking out of the little town.

"Yes?"

"Is this it?" I wondered aloud. All I could see from here were warehouses along the shoreline, cobblestone paths, and further in the odd brightly painted house. There seemed to be more people than buildings, and I thought for sure there had to be more to the town than this, but I didn't know exactly how remote we'd gone.

"No, this is just the harbour, I think it has a name but I've forgotten it. There's a few different towns spread across the island, a second harbour off the far side, and a lot more than just this little place."

"Oh, okay."

I didn't know how to take that. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, nor what I wanted. So I just pushed it out of my mind to explore my feelings later, probably once I had discovered more about the island.

"Come on, we'll miss the bus," Mum urged.

The bus turned out to be a tiny twelve seater, with bright colours rusting off the old metal, as if children had painted it as an art project. When we climbed on board, my suspicions grew stronger. There was children's art taped on every spare surface, across the roof, on the back of chairs, even the rails were painted bright colours. It was different, and I thought it probably hid a lot of germs and rarely got cleaned, but it also gave off a positivity that often accompanied the work of a child.

"Welcome," the bus driver said, warm smile faltering when he saw us, "Who are you?"

"Oh, sorry, I do have a ticket," Mum said, rummaging in her bag, "It's here somewhere."

"No worries, the bus is practically a shuttle regardless. I've just not seen your faces around here before," the driver asked, scrutinising.

"Probably because our faces have never been here before," I mumbled.

"Sorry," Mum said, either apologising for me or for the struggle she'd had finding a ticket, "I'm Marianne, and this is my daughter Alexa. We're heading for the boarding school, I believe."

"Lovely to meet new faces, I'm your driver today, and once the term starts you'll probably see me up at the school in the arts department. I teach arts to the little ones, so probably won't get you, Alexa. Now find a seat and we'll be underway shortly. We've a few more passengers to wait on."

I nodded while Mum thanked him more profusely than required, and we found some seats on the bus. We had to spread on a bench seat each, our suitcase and carryon taking up more room than necessary. Luckily only a few people ended up boarding before the bus doors hissed shut and we rumbled on our way.

My eyes half scanned those within the bus and half watched the world pass by outside. It was a warm day, barely mid-morning despite the fact I'd been up most the night on plane rides and ferries. Now a bus. All we were missing was the train and I'd have done it all.

The other passengers were a lot more familiar with each other, it seemed. Two mums chatted in the same seat while their three kids squeezed onto the seat in front of them, playing a card game that looked suspiciously like Uno. One older lady sat by herself reading, but she'd greeted everyone as they came on board. Then there was a teenage trio closer to my age that took up seats nearby, throwing me a few odd glances.

We'd been almost the first ones here, but I knew there was one other person that had beaten us to the bus. He was taking up the back bench seat that spanned the whole bus, and even though he was sitting in just one corner, the way he spoke to no one suggested sitting beside him wasn't welcomed. I'd spotted him when we walked up to our seats towards the back, but now it was nothing but the feeling of being watched that gave away his presence.

I'd been here barely half an hour and I'd already started meeting all the types there were. The back-seat bully, the gossiping teens, the younger family friends and even the older generation. My stomach swirled, rumbling in hunger and nerves. I was heading to a new town, new school, new life. I wouldn't have anyone around me I knew, not even my mum. She was dropping me at the boarding school and then going to her new apartment right near her new work.

Which hadn't surprised me. Ever since dad died and it had become just the two of us, mum had delved even further into her work. She'd always had a great work ethic, been a workaholic that found more joy in work than life. It had been dad that forced her into the housewife roll.  The restrictions of motherhood and the fact his job was higher paying enslaved her to me when I was finally born. When Dad had passed, it had finally opened up her pathway back into the workforce, and that's where she'd been ever since.

And somehow, it had become such a norm for me that I didn't mind, didn't thinking anything of it until my friends would point it out to me. Friends I wouldn't see again, at least not any time soon.

I sighed, staring out the window and lost in my thoughts as the trees and paddocks flew by and the little bus rumbled along winding roads. I wasn't sure what lay ahead of me, what sort of future I was in for, but I was resigned to just roll with whatever got thrown my way.

*** AUTHORS NOTES ***

Thanks to Irene Lasus from Pexels for the cover photo.