After the Turning [c o m p l e t e d]

Chapter 1

Chapter 1:  Change of Tides

My parents were downstairs making breakfast again. It was pretty obvious due to their laughter and the clinking of the pots and pans. I glanced at my alarm clock, my vision still blurry. It was just half past six. Rolling over, I fell back into my slumber. Mornings were the bane of my life. It wasn’t just weekday mornings; school wasn’t the reason why I hated them so much. My body simply didn’t react well to waking up too early.

My mother, Mrs. Monica Gressner, knocked gently on the door.

"I'm awake." I groaned as I tried to sit up, though my body inevitably tumbled back down onto the bed.

She pushed the door slightly open. 'Jane sweetie, it's time for school." Her voice was perky and high-pitched, which sounded nothing like mine—it had a mellower tone. Sometimes I wondered if we were truly related, my parents were very different from me. My features were sharper and finer than their rounded faces. Even our hairs were colored differently. I had long wavy jet black hair, while they were brunettes.

It puzzled me greatly but whenever I asked them about it, they would reaffirm that I was a hundred percent theirs. Others weren’t so kind though— people gossip. “Haven’t you heard? She’s adopted.” That’s what they all said in school.

"Hmmm," I mumbled as I readied myself to get up; my eyes were still closed. My mother was waiting patiently. I threw my sheets to my side, paused, before taking in a deep breath. Why do mornings have to suck so much? It needed forever but I finally managed to set myself up. My eyelids were half-open. "I'm awake," I said again. But my mind was still clouded.

"Get ready quickly then you can nap in the car later okay? Your dad made pancakes." My dad made pancakes every day. I was entirely sick of it and was short of telling my mother off, but I couldn’t hurt their feelings, they were such lovely people.

I gave her a faint smile. “Okay mom,” I said as I steadied my dizzy head. She smiled back at me before leaving my room.

Slowly, I made my way to my wardrobe. I picked up a dress and shrugged it on, not bothering how it looked like. They all looked the same: decorated with grandmother lace and old-fashioned flowery textiles. Grandma sent all my clothing to me. They were fashioned by her terrible taste, not that it mattered—those people at school would gawk at me regardless of what I wore. Besides, it was really nice of her to send them to me; each one of them must have required a lot of effort.

Glancing at my small mirror that was on the table I scowled at me. My mother told me that I had a beautiful face, but I looked at my eyes with disgust. Perhaps it was their odd sea-green color or my pale face that made everyone not like me. Monster. I shook my head. No, it wasn’t my appearance. I just didn’t want to accept the truth or all those things that happened before. I could hurt people… easily. Angrily I faced the mirror down, not wanting to look at myself.

Breakfast tasted like the usual--pancakes. I picked at my food. Never was I a big eater anyway.

I was a small town girl, living in a sub-urban sprawl with houses never getting any taller than two stories. Everybody knew everybody in Whiterly Oaks. They sure knew me, and definitely all those rumors about me. Half of them were true. I tapped my fingers on the leather seat as my mother drove through the town.

"Thanks mom." I kissed her cheek and waved her goodbye when I reached school. As part of the daily routine, my mother hugged me and wished me luck before driving off. I gave her the best fake smile I had. Sigh.

I kicked a can on the sidewalk and tucked my hands into the pockets Grandma sewed on. I was never lucky in school.

As I walked through the halls, people parted as if I were Moses walking through the Red Sea, just that instead of making me feel great and powerful, I felt like a disgusting piece of garbage that nobody wanted to touch. I tried to get used to their stares and whispers, but it was something that was impossible to get used to. I walked past them with a hunch, trying to guard myself from their onslaughts of gossip. Some of my schoolmates backed off slightly when I flashed them a foul look. I hate them.