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In that short moment of time, three questions spur into my thoughts—chattering as one rumbling voice in my head. What had my father done? Why was scars the first thing Beth looked for? And lastly, why was Beth and Xander looking at me like I was an idiot for not knowing why Dakota hated my family?

Give me a break. I got here a few hours ago. I'm not supposed to know everything by day one.

People began talking amongst themselves. The stares only got worse at that point, gesturing to us and muttering things to each other. I wasn't doing a very good job at this "stay off the radar" and laying low thing I wanted to do here at Crescent Heights.

"It's not really just your dad he hates." Beth revealed.

"Bethany," Xander hissed. "There's no reason we should bring up the...other stuff."

"What other stuff?" I questioned, snapping back to the conversation before me. I'd gotten trapped in my own head, asking a million more questions. What Xander had said dragged me back to reality.

"Nothing," Xander smiled.

Beth hesitated with what she should say next. But with Xander glaring at her, dead on, she shrieked in her tattered converse shoes and remained silent. She wasn't going to betray the words of her best friend. I could read that from her expression.

...

The party blurred passed me. By eleven, I had managed to not drink anything, only munching on the random bags of chips thrown around in the kitchen cabinets. I was merely a third wheel by the second half of the party. I tagged along with Beth and Xander as they tried to locate their other nineteen friends they'd introduced me to. I kept to myself, not talking to any of them when they had finally found them. Beth's brother Ollie, a lacrosse player and the real host of the party, cut in around midnight and took Beth away.

When Hunter was ready to go, he texted me a little pasted midnight, telling me that he was already in the car. I had an argument to myself on if I should or shouldn't bring up what happened to Dakota. He already knew partially, I reminded myself, it shouldn't be a big deal if I did bring it up. He apparently saw us outside from in the house.

After sliding into the seat and clicking on my seat belt, Hunter beat me to it and brought up the mystery boy all on his own. "I'm baffled that you're still breathing. Ridgewood isn't one to leave anyone of without a mark."

"I don't believe you." I rolled my eyes. "He's a lot nicer than your brother, that's for sure."

"Oh really, was he all nice and fun to be around after he found out who you were?" I remained silent at that comment. Dakota had stormed off before I could say anything to him, growling like some freakin' wild animal. "I thought so," Hunter huffed, seeing that he found the answer from me not saying anything at all. "I don't know one person who actually likes the guy."

"I'm sure Maven has a really small fan club, too."

"Maven isn't that bad." He snickered and pealed the car out of his parking spot. "Also, Maven has never gotten in trouble with the law. That something Ridgewood can't say."

I scoffed. "Simply because someone has a criminal record doesn't make them a bad person. Nelson Mandela went to jail."

Hunter chuckled. "Oh, wow. I can't believe you're comparing a psychotic lunatic with South Africa's former president." He moved the car into another street. "In all seriousness, it would be best if you kept a ten feet pole between you and Ridgewood. I don't think he'll want you around now though, knowing who your dad is."

"What's his problem, then? Just tell me that."

"He's got as many problems as he's got tattoos, that's all I'll tell you. It's an endless amount." Hunter stopped at the red light. "Silvia, my advice to you is to drop this now before you get yourself caught up in a mess older than the both of us."

"How about this?" I sat up in my seat. "I'll stop asking about him or even trying to bringing him up if you tell me why he doesn't like my dad."

"He doesn't like any of us. Pretty sure he hates Maven and I just as much as he hates your dad. Possibly even more."

"What did you guys do?" I found myself asking before I could stop myself.

His hand went up to the back of his neck, rubbing it slowly as he focused on the road before him. "That's not really something I want to talk about. How about you ask your dad instead?"

I knew what he was doing here, and he was damn clever by doing that. I would never know what they were hiding about Dakota if I relied on my father for the information.

There was no way my father would tell me anything. He wouldn't even let me leave out a photo of my brother on my nightstand, how the hell was I supposed to get a secret out of him? He held his secrets close to him until the very last moment. Kind of like how I found out about him cheating on my mom with Evelyn.

I wasn't there to witness it, but I surely saw the fight unfold with my parents in the other room, screaming to each other. A paper thin wall separated us. It felt like I was there with them, seeing the fight with my own eyes. Mom was throwing just about everything she could get her hands on at him. I heard the slamming of objects hit the wall, leaving cracks. He was apologizing, but it didn't sound sincere.

I guess I'll have to figure this one out on my own, I thought as we pulled into the driveway to our house. It still felt weird calling it "our house" or even "my house." Even though it was where I temporarily lived didn't mean it was my "home." Home was a different place, and home was definitely not this place or in Maine.

...

I'd survived the shopping trip with Evelyn without her pulling some wicked step-mom act. She tried her best to relate with me, asking what kinds of movies I watched and books I read. I would've taken her serious if she didn't dress in clothes only tweens on Disney Channel squeeze themselves in to. Her makeup was bright and a little too over the top for my likings.

She attempted to make up for my pervious dislike toward her by buying me nearly half the store using dad's credit card. From shoes to purses and eyeliner—nothing was off limits to me in that moment. It was two o'clock when she took us to the school supplies section at a different store in the mall.

As much as she tried to buy my affection by using my father's money, I still couldn't find myself to like her any more than I did a week ago. No matter what she did, said, or bought me, she'd always be remembered as the woman who slept with a married man, ruining a family that was perfectly fine being dysfunctional without her in it. Their marriage was nowhere near perfect—no marriage is—but at least I felt like they were willing to work things out.

Despite my refrain for her, it didn't just stop with Evelyn. I knew that it took two tango and that the fault fell on to my father's hand, too. 

Monday came along, and the gray cloud over my head that I'd brought with me from Maine remained intact as Evelyn drove me to school. Hunter and Maven had shiny cars to take. They didn't have to carpool. I had a license but I wasn't too sure if Evelyn trusted me yet with the keys. I could hear her distain when I offered this morning, so I let it drop, chugging down my orange juice in silence. 

The day before, Evelyn and my father had taken me to the campus of Crescent High. They were open to take in information for the incoming freshmen and transfer students. One of the office workers told me that I was the only transfer student. Finding that out only scared me a little more than I already was. These people have known each other for years, their grandparents probably even hung out.

The good thing at least was that my dad was from this town. He only left this town for college and then came back here to get married to my mom and then again to marry his current wife. His parents were from here and they moved up to Winchester Hills for their retirement. It was a wealthier neighborhood above Crescent Heights. It was also where the country club was located that Evelyn and my step-brothers went to a few days ago.

Dad helped me with the packet the office receptionist had given me and we finished it in less than an hour, and before I knew it I had my new schedule and locker combination. This all came along with a map of the campus.

I glanced down at it now, thinking of a good route to get into the school without having to pass by that dreaded cafeteria. No one likes cafeterias, or at least I didn't. I always felt like everyone had their eyes on me, waiting for me to fall.

From what it said on the map, there was no way I could skip entering the cafeteria unless they opened the gates on the back entrance. Looking up from the map, I saw people jump out of cars and dash up the front steps. I'd have to endure the awkward walk through the cafeteria, looking lost and confused the whole time like most new students are.

Evelyn said goodbye to me, wishing me good luck and I waved in her direction, not looking at her. I shut the door behind me and readjusted the binder and notebooks in my arms. I was told by one of the office workers to go by the library after school to get my books. I had bought a backpack, but I'd stupidly forgotten to bring it with me, thinking I could handle the short walk to my locker and throw everything in.

My eyes glazed over the map one last time, stepping up the stairs and into the cafeteria. Pushing into the loud room, I watched in admiration at the laughing, smiling students that filled the place up. I was nowhere near that kind of happy. My heart leaped into my throat when my eyes settled on a student sitting all on his own at a table. There were ten empty seats around him. Hunter was right about one thing—Dakota didn't seem to very liked.

A few people skirted around the table, but rushed quickly out of his way and to the other side. I noticed a huddle of girls at the other table across from him, pointing at him and glaring. What was up with anyone? He didn't look like that bad of a guy at the party. He was nice enough to get that creep away from me.

I took a step forward to his table, going against the orders of everyone. The air in the cafeteria shifted and straining as I set my binder and notebooks down and sat in front of Dakota. I took note of how the room quieted down, silencing themselves to witness my interaction with the town freak show.

His shaggy mop of hair shook as he bobbed his head up. He was drawing something on a loose leaf piece of paper, but quickly flipped the paper around when he saw me sit down.

"You shouldn't be here," he grumbled, returning back to his drawing. He put one hand in front of the paper, creating a wall so I couldn't see what it was.

I smirked. "It's school. I think I'm supposed to be here."

"That's not what I mean...I meant here. Sitting with me. Do yourself a favor and go sit somewhere else."

"Am I bothering you by siting here?"

"You're bothering me by simply existing. Now leave."

I didn't move though or rush to get up out of my seat. "Is there a rule somewhere saying I can't sit here?"

"It's called common sense."

I huffed. "I guess I don't have any of that because here I am. Sitting here. With you."

"You clearly don't," he growled. He stopped drawing and straighten his back and folded the paper up roughly, causing his tattooed arms to flex as he did this. His clear blue eyes hit mine, shimmering behind long black lashes while he took in a deep breath. "Look Sandra—"

"My name is Silvia." I corrected.

"Like I care," he spat. "Like I was saying, you shouldn't be here. So get the hell out of here. I tried to be nice, but clearly you and your entire family don't know what nice means."

The lightness in my tone had evaporated. No one spoke to me like that. "That was you trying to be nice?" I faked a gasp, flattening a hand on my chest. "Oh, I'm sorry then. I must've been mistaken. Cause all you've been since I sat down is rude."

"You're lucky that's all you think of me," he puffed. "Now, for the one hundredth time, I'll ask you. Get the hell out of my face."

"You're not asking me, you're telling me."

"Seriously," his voice strained. "Leave me alone."

I was having a little too much fun with this. "Or what?"

He snorted, but I could tell he wasn't the slightest bit amused. "Fine, I'll leave then." He said and got out of his seat, stuffing the drawing in his black jeans. After he exited the cafeteria, the place relaxed and returned to its loud nature.

____

Please vote and comment

______ _

Song:. Young Folks by Peter Bjorn And John

Lyrics: 

 ❝If I told you things I did before, told you how I used to be.

Would you go along with someone like me?

If you knew my story word for word, had all of my history

Would you go along with someone like me?

...

Usually when things have gone this far people tend to disappear.❞

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