HURRICANE

one; a little girl hurt by the big, bad world

There is a small talent, which many people have grasped over the years. It's called invisibility. It's no superpower, just a small skill that a large percentage of us are able to master. It usually helps us, makes people in the world feel the quiet enjoyments of solitude, without ever being discovered. 

I am one of the people who lack this talent. I don't want the attention, but somehow attention always finds me. If it was positive attention, I'm sure that I wouldn't mind that, but it's not positive; not at all. It's negative and evil. 

It's the type of attention you want to avoid.  

In some situations you may think, just move schools. Start fresh. I have thought about that idea so many times for so many years. I have thought about moving schools, telling my mother that I wanted to move. But I didn't get a choice. 

The small town of Freedom, Maine has one high school. You would think that a town with the name of Freedom, there would be this opportunity, this opportunity of freedom, freedom of never having to be hurt. But not in this town. 

Freedom High School filled with picture perfect girls who attack any other girls with any sign of weakness. Then you have the boys, all Abercrombie models, who don't have the time for girls who are not perfect. 

I am one of those girls. 

I actually thought that for the rest of my high school life I would be living in my own personal hell. Every day they come up with a brand new name to throw at me, a brand new name to hit me with.  

That was until three nights ago; 

"How would you feel about living with your dad for a few months?" My mother asked me as she shoveled another mouthful of pasta into her mouth. I froze, mid-eating. I can't say it was the most attractive pose. My mouth hung wide open like a zombie, a forkful of pasta, some pieces falling off it, my spare hand gripping the table like a claw so I don't topple into my food.  

I placed my fork down and sat back. 

"What do you mean?" I asked her. 

"I got a job offer." She replied, and I nodded my head. "It's not in Maine though,"  

"Where is it then? Los Angeles?" I ask bringing up the city in which my father and my older brother, Luke reside in. 

"Paraguay." My mother replies. My mouth falls open; I can imagine my grandmother's words ringing in my ear.  

'Carrie close that trap, it will catch flies'. 

To be honest, I wasn't expecting my mother to burst out with Paraguay, of all places. At first I thought I could go with her, to South America, it would be an adventure a journey, a learning curve. But I then realized I couldn't leave halfway through a semester, to somewhere where I would have zero education. 

"So, what do you think about your fathers?" She asks me again. 

"How long will it be for?" I ask her. 

"A year," She replies. 

A lot can change in a year. In the past year, I have lost weight, regained it, and then lost it again. Cried myself to sleep a number of times, bought my body weight in books, learned five new songs on piano, and made my bed at least twice, possibly three times. 

I nod my head. Not really sure what I'm nodding at. Yes, I'd like to go? Yes, you got a job? Or, just yes? 

"I haven't really got a choice do I?" I asked my mother. 

"You could always go stay with Grandma," She replies with and I instantly shake my head. My Grandmother lives in a very rural and icy area of Alaska, she has a hot tub outside, and she has had a number of younger boyfriends in the past. Unless you want me to write it out in black and white, you can see where I'm going with this.