Once Gone

1. New Beginnings

        I stand awkwardly in line at the front office to get my class schedule. It was my first day at Idyllwild Arts Academy as a senior. I left my home town, where I lived with my grandparents, to move in with my father in Idyllwild, California—a small school named after a small town—leaving behind my childhood and my mother's recent death. She passed away almost a year ago, and my dad was never really part of my life—until now.

        At first, the idea appealed to me to move here. In California, big cities were on every side of you, which I was accustomed to. I found out quickly how wrong I was. The closest city was Hemet, forty minutes away. For any shopping it was Palm Springs you went to, an hour away on the other side of the mountain. Most people said they felt free living here. There was endless forest that went on for miles without an disturbance. To me, I felt utterly trapped. Being born and raised in the city, I never had to face a world with 0.1% civilization. I'd heard of such places existing, but I never remained more than five minutes in a town like that.

        I did have a choice to leave five days a week from this 3,874 populated city—now 3,875 since I've arrived—to take the forty minute drive to Hemet and back for public high school. I, of course, was strongly against that. Waking up at five in the morning wasn't a dream to any teenager. Because it was my last year, the private high school here offered me a scholarship to attend. I soon learned that was mostly because they pitied me for my mother's death; a rumor I prayed wouldn't circle around the school.

      So here I was, in a town with two run down grocery stores and two overpriced gas stations in a forty minute range. I convinced myself it wasn't all that bad, that I had a brand new start. But the likely hood of me fitting in was an entire different complication. I was in many ways able to blend in with a crowd of people. My ivory skin, long brown hair, and soft slender figure was what many people considered average. The difficulty I had was I didn't relate to those in my age range. Even I knew I was lying to myself about that though. I didn't relate to anyone, my brain waves seemed to be on a different setting than everyone else's. Like a radio, everyone was on a range on the FM while I was lost in the AM.

      The line barely moves and I debate in my mind whether or not to be late to my first class. I was beginning when school had already started a month ago, and didn't want to bring any attention to myself.

      "Next," the rounded face woman says. Her lips are set in a straight line, obviously I wasn't welcome in her presence. I hurry to get my schedule without saying a word, and made my way out of the room into the now populated school—students talking too loud for my liking. I look around, confused at how the classes were set up. The school was an enlarged endless hall, but the classroom numbers scattered in all directions.

       Through the many windows, I noticed the tiny pointed shelters outside were dorms outside. I was one of the few who decided against living in one of them. It was additional costs, and I had my father. I wanted to form a relationship with him, somehow.

       I'm early to my Chemistry class after roaming the crowded halls searching for it, and take a seat in the back—farthest from the door. The white brick walls and gray carpet made it feel more like an office than a classroom. The desk was highly unusual, made purely of plastic. I sat in the matching gray chair that wasn't connected to the frumpy plastic desk. Surprisingly, it was also made of plastic.

       "Hey, are you new here?" I look up to see a bright smile.

         I nod, my throat too dry to speak. Talking was never my strong suit. I play with my sweater sleeve and watch him sit next to me. His brown curly hair falls over his forehead, shaping around his round boyish face.

        The bell rings and people start walking into the classroom. I get a few looks and I look down to avoid them. I knew already I wouldn't fit in here. I walked the quarter of a mile to school today. Not having a car was proving to be difficult in such a small town. I sold my previous car to cover the costs of my mother's funeral. She died unexpectedly in a car accident while I was at the library. I winced at the memory.