The Very Best

Chapter One

A dark and stormy night brought rain and misfortune down upon the our valley. Somewhere in the nearby mountains it was probably snowing, but hardly anyone lived there. On days like these, I chose to think of those people. It was more interesting than thinking about my own life. Thinking of other people's troubles or hard times was easier than thinking of my own tragedies. So as I lay staring at the ceiling in my bedroom, of course it crossed my mind that my mother had lived on the other side of the mountain.

It wasn't exactly that I missed her- I had never known her. I couldn't have missed her. I suppose I really was just curious. My dads tried to answer my questions to the best of their abilities, but it's not like they knew a whole lot about her either. Somewhere out there probably existed my biological dad, but my dads had never met him before they adopted me. They told me mom looked a little like me but not much. Her hair was blonde, mine was a soft brown. She shared my green eyes, my high, prominent cheekbones. And also, peculiarly, my small feet. My biological father supposedly had blue eyes and hair the color of mine. Not much else was important about him, I suppose. He worked an average job at a construction company in Indiana when he was nineteen. My mom was seventeen when I was  born and had been working at a restaurant the next town over from where my father worked.

It was times like this when it was best to focus on facts instead of my thoughts. Giving up out of boredom, I swung my legs over the edge of the mattress and tiptoed down the hallway towards the family room. My dads were still sitting on the couch watching some kind of real-life crime show. As I always had, I managed to squeeze myself between them and curl up under the blanket. Neither one seemed to mind me between them, even sharing a knowing smile with one another. Dad put his arm on the back of the couch behind my head and Daddy pulled my feet up onto his lap. Eventually after watching for a ridiculously long time, my eyes grew heavy and my mind fuzzy. My eyes closed and I faded for what felt like only the time it takes to take a breath.

Dad shook my shoulder gently, whispering, "Kaya. Go to bed, honey." I nodded and muttered good nights. I went and brushed my teeth and washed my face in my bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror. After a while I tied my hair into a knot at the nape of my neck. Sighing, walked slowly into my bedroom nearly collapsing into the mattress. In pajama pants and a long sleeved shirt, I drifted off into a state of oblivion. I allowed myself to be swallowed by darkness and blankets.

Much too early, the alarm went off, ending my sound sleep. After falling back asleep, despite the ringing of the alarm, I managed to wake myself up enough to get out of bed. Having showered the night before, I pulled on jeans, our school t-shirt, and high tops. I brushed my hair out and twist it up into a messy bun. I sighed and went to brush my teeth and wash my face. As I washed soap off of my face, I notice a giant bleach spot on my jeans. Silently cursing my lack of understanding of the laundry system, I walked back into my room. It felt like a sweatpants kind of day anyway.

After I applied a minimal amount of makeup, as to not look like a complete mess; I pulled a sweatshirt on over my head. I grab a granola bar out of the pantry and kissed both of my dads on their cheeks. Making my way out the front door of my house, I braced myself against the chill of November and waited at my bus stop, waving as my dad drove by on his way to work. He was a well renowned lawyer in Illinois. My other dad was a photographer. I always thought it was super cool when I was little because he got to take pictures of lots of babies. I pulled my knotty headphones out of my pocket and turned on some good music.

As my bus pulled around the corner to my stop, I pulled out one headphone and pushed my hands into my pocket. The doors opened and I slipped inside passing the rows of happy, chattering people. Once I reached the section where all the juniors tended to clump together, I sat down: solemn and unspeaking. My best friend in the world sat in the seat furthest from the bus driver. Ian silently moved over to make room for me beside him. He passed me a headphone and I put it into my ear, hearing the music that I had come to appreciate.

We sat in silence for a while, until he pulled out his headphone and I followed suit. The corner of his lips quirked up into a smirk. "You didn't study for the math test today did you?"
I shook my head. "What about you?"
"Not even a little bit."
"Oh, well," I shrugged, meeting his eyes.
"Oh, well," he repeated. "How are the dads?"
"Pretty good. Same old, same old." I paused. "How's you-know-who?"
"Oh, my god, Ky," he exclaimed. "You'll never believe what happened this weekend." He paused for emphasis. "She threw a full on screaming, stomping tantrum to avoid going to the fundraiser."

I snorted at the tale. I noticed her turn around from her seat two seats ahead of us to glare at me, unknowing that we were talking about her. Claire had always been kind of an interesting story. Ian and Claire's parents met when they were ten years old. Having already established a deep, underlying hatred for each other, the two were unhappily joined as step-siblings a year later.

We were dutifully delivered to the Prison, most often referred to as School, fifteen minutes later. I sat through all of my classes until lunch, actually counting down seconds until I was relieved from the troubling desks and messy whiteboards. When finally I was allowed to leave, I went in search of Ian. I grabbed my lunch out of my locker and found him minutes later waiting by the exit, holding his own lunch.
"Outside?" He asked my opinion.

I nodded and followed him out the door. We walked to our favorite place- right under the bridge that runs over the creek on Campus. Sitting down beside him, I observed his selection for the day- a Nutella sandwich. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. He chuckled to himself at my distaste for the Hazelnut Spread. He knew all of my pet peeves. I always swore he brought Nutella to school or poured a ridiculous amount of syrup on his pancakes, another dislike, just to watch me revel in my loathing.

We had been best friends since the third grade. We had shared every birthday and every important memory with one another.
But our long lasting friendship did obviously not mean he respected my dislikes. He thought it was hilarious as I gagged at the sight. I couldn't help it. I was stuck in my ways and perfectly contented with remaining that way.
I took out my leftover pasta and tried to ignore the moaning contented noise he made every time he took a bite out of the sandwich.
"Mm. This is really good." He licked some off of his fingers. "I don't understand how you hate this stuff."

I visibly shivered at the thought of actually having to consume Nutella.
We finished up our lunches a little while later, him having teased my the entire time.
As I went to my fifth period class, I returned to my hazy state of half paying attention to the lecture. I was lost in a world all my own, where everything was simple and everyone knew the answers to my questions. Losing focus, I happily welcomed the oncoming quiet mind. It was a much needed relaxation. On the exterior, I scribbled notes down urgently. But inside, I was completely quiet, mind at ease.

Thanks for clicking on my story. To the side is Kaya. Not an actor, but I found her picture and knew it was perfect!