by Chloe Smith
"We can skip lab," Tristan suggested.
"Um...I don't think so. I haven't missed a class ever since…never. Mr. Ortega said we were working on that project today in class. I'm almost done with it myself, so I'll tell you then." Scarlett shut her locker and headed off to her lab table where she waited for Tristan, knowing that he would surely follow suit.
She didn't say a word while the class waited for the late bell to ring. She sat quietly and looked up at the board while Tristan continued to stare at her curiously. She was attractive. He couldn't deny it any more than he could deny that popularity meant almost everything to him—almost.
"Okay, class. Who has started their project on the 'Static Orb'?" Mr. Ortega asked with an enthusiastic smile, but his smile soon disappeared when nobody raised their hands. "Scarlett, you haven't started yet?" he asked appalled.
"No, sir. I had a lot of things on my mind," Scarlett answered.
"Okay, well, you all better be happy because I have decided to dedicate this entire class for you guys to get started on it. So you now have forty-five minutes. Begin." And with that said the entire class grumbled and took out their unread, crumpled papers that had the directions as to how to start the project, which their teacher had handed out a week ago. Everybody paired off with their assigned partners and began to work on their neglected project.
"Why did you lie to him?" Tristan asked her.
"What we need," Scarlett began, "is a one inch wide PVC Pipe about twenty-four inches long, Mylar tinsel—"
"Why did you lie to him?" Tristan interrupted her.
"So that he'll think we are working while I relive my—our past," she finally answered him.
Damn, she was sneakier than he had originally given her credit for. He would have never thought of doing something like that. He really did underestimate her.
"We'll also need a head of clean, dry hair, and scissors—" Scarlett began.
"Nuh-uh, you promised—" he interrupted her again.
"If I'm going to tell you, you better not make a habit of interrupting me."
Tristan quietly nodded.
Scarlett was quiet for a long time, and Tristan saw her eyes glaze over as they entered the past. Tristan quietly cleared his throat to gain her attention.
"Oh, that's right. I have to actually speak, don't I?" Scarlett feigned a lot of sudden awareness. "Okay, fine," Scarlett took a deep breath, slightly agitated.
"It started back in eighth grade—"
XOXOXOXOXOXOXO FLASHBACK XOXOXOXOXOXOXO
(Four years ago: beginning of 8th grade.)
Scarlett's life in junior high was perfect. She was smart, pretty, and popular. No one thought of her as a geek or a nerd. Everyone believed her to be the luckiest girl alive, and all the boys wanted her to be his. No one would ever think this gorgeous redhead would ever become a D-lister in high school. But, boy, were they all wrong. But back in eighth grade, Scarlett could walk down the hall and strut passed all of the D-listers as if they didn't exist and not think once that she would soon join them. She had no doubt in her mind that in high school she would be one of the most popular girls there. She had the looks, she had the body, she had the brains, she had pretty, curly hair, and she had the money. But the most drastic difference about Scarlett in eighth grade was that she was completely shallow. She lived in her own little world where she controlled everything that happened. What else did she want or need?
"Have fun at school, honey," Billy, Scarlett's father, said, kissing her on the forehead.
"I always do," Scarlett replied, jumping out of her dad's Range Rover. As Scarlett walked up the steps to the school building, a bunch of her friends began to surround her, and she soon was enveloped in the chatter and laughter of her friends.
"Hey, Scar!" Libby called from her locker.
"Hey, Libby, how was LA?"
"Not bad, I guess. I wish you had been there."
"I bet, but I can't be in two places at one."
The day continued the way it usually went. Everybody complimented Scarlett's hair, her new shoes, her designer outfit, her professional makeup, et cetera.
"Oh, my God, you're so lucky!" Libby squealed when Scarlett showed her a picture of the car her dad was going to buy her this year. Sure she was only thirteen, but in three years she was going to be sixteen. And she knew what she was going to be doing when she was that age. SHOPPING! With her best friends, preferably.
"I wish my dad was as cool as your dad," Vivian sighed.
"Well, you can't pick your family," Scarlett replied as she twirled her silky ringlet of hair around her finger.
"Ooooh," squealed another girl, whom Scarlett couldn't remember the name of, "Here comes you-know-who!"
Scarlett turned her head knowingly as her green eyes landed on her recently new boyfriend, Chance Dean. He was a baseball player with a nice body. His dark brown hair contrasted nicely with his light blue eyes. And every girl was head over heels for him. Except Scarlett. Truth be told, she was totally head over heels for him. Who wouldn't be? But she had to keep her cool whenever he was around. Nobody stayed with a girl who was annoyingly obsessed with her boyfriend. Besides that was how she caught Chance in her sneaky trap. Hard to get. That's how she played it with all of the boys. Granted, she had only had two boyfriends in the past three years. She was pretty picky when it came to boys: athletic, well-built, sparkly eyes, sexy smile, and popular.
"Hey." Chance smiled as he swiftly sat down next to Scarlett, wrapping his arm around her waist.
She nodded in his direction and flipped a red curl behind her shoulder as she leaned into him.
"How's your day been?"
"Boring. Until you got here." She flashed him a wickedly cool smile.
"Just what I wanted to hear actually." He bent down to kiss the tip of her nose.
"Awww. You guys are so cute," Vivian whispered in a hushed voice.
Chance gave her a side smile that made all of the girls' cheeks fill with blush. All of the girls, except Scarlett. Sure, she was completely smitten with his adorably good looks, but again she had to keep her mellow.
"So, you're coming over to my house tonight, right?" Chance asked Scarlett.
"If I can make it. I have a lot of things on the list for tonight."
"You can't find any time for your boyfriend?" Chance frowned playfully and blinked down at her through his long lashes.
Scarlett cracked a smile, "Like I said, I have a lot of things to do, but I'll try to make it."
"I could just come over to your house if you're so busy…" Chance tried.
Um…hell no. "No can do, daddio," Scarlett said instead. "Parents won't allow it," she lied.
Her dad would let his little princess do whatever she wanted. He would jump off a cliff for his darling little girl. So he would definitely let her boyfriend come over. Actually, it was Scarlett who never allowed any of her many friends or rare boyfriends over. She didn't want them to find out about him. Him. She loved him with all of her heart, but she wouldn't be able to stand the humiliation that would come if anyone found out about Charles. Sure, he was her half-brother. Sure, he looked up to her. And at home, she acted completely different than how she acted at school. At school, she was…well, to be frank, a bitch. But at home, she was a complete and absolute angel. She helped her brother do his homework, she played with him, she read to him, she drew pictures with him, she made jokes with him, she did everything at home with him. But if someone found out that her brother was mentally challenged, it would be social suicide. Yeah, that sounded like a dick move, but—what can she say—at school she was the female version of a dick. Like she said, she loved Charles, just not at school. It was a love/hate relationship…sort of.
"Scar, are you going to make the baseball game this weekend?" Chance asked, bringing Scarlett back into the present and out of her reverie.
"Sure. How many homeruns are you gonna hit?"
"I'd hit a hundred if you came."
"Really? That's all I am to you
? A hundred?"
"A thousand?" Chance tried.
"That sounds better."
"Anything for my lovie dovie." Chance bent down to kiss her cheek.
Again the other girls giggled and blushed at the It Couple's shameless intimacy. All in all, Scarlett was the most wanted and desired girl at school. She was the epitome of the popular girl. And she wasn't planning on having it any other way for a while. She expected everything to continue as it was. Her life was perfect, and she didn't expect anything less from it.
It wasn't until near the end of lunch that anything unwelcoming came Scarlett's way.
"Scar," Mary Cox, who was three grades below Scarlett, rushed up to her. "There's...someone...in the front room insisting that he knows you."
"Okay," Scarlett said slowly. Who didn't know her? How was this any different from some random student boasting about how he was best friends with Scarlett White?
"No, I mean, like, uh…just c'mon," Mary insisted. Scarlett gave Chance a peck on the cheek and then began walking slowly out of the cafeteria with her hips swishing from side to side naturally. There were about thirty or so students gathered around the glass door of the front hall. They all wore the same look of puzzlement and bewilderment about their faces.
"I...talk...with Scarry," said a familiar, slow voice.
"Oh, no," Scarlett groaned. No, this can't happen. Not now, not here. How had he gotten here? How did he even know what school she went to?
Scarlett pushed her way through the crowd and with her own eyes saw the horror. A slightly younger boy with big blue eyes and white blonde hair stared back at her.
"Scarry!" he exclaimed.
"What are you doing here?" Scarlett asked, appalled.
"You know him?" Emily asked.
"Uhh..."
"Of course...she's...my—"
"He's a friend of a friend," Scarlett interrupted, grabbing his wrist. "C'mon, Charles."
She tried desperately to ignore the quizzical stares from her fellow classmates and the loud whispers coming from the mouths of the jealous wanna-bees. This was going to be the buzz of the month. How could she explain this?
Scarlett marched Charles all the way to the back of the school building outside where it was completely secluded, and no one would find them.
"What the hel—eck are you doing here, Charles?"
"I...Why are you...so mad at...me?"
"I'm not mad," Scarlett said, cooling off a bit. "It's just, you know you're supposed to be home with—" Scarlett gasped, "Where's Barbara?"
"Momma's...you have to come home now." This time Charles didn't even stutter. His big blue eyes were pleading and worried. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.
"I can't come home now, Charles; I'm at school. Where are Barbara and dad?"
"Momma and daddy are dead, Scarry, dead…k-killed!" Charles was in tears now.
Scarlett was shocked into silence. She stood there for the briefest second before she gasped and fell against the wall. She slid down until she hit the ground. Her knees gave out, and sweat was forming at the back of her neck. She must have heard wrong or Charles had to be mistaken. Maybe they were just sleeping, and Charles couldn't wake them up. Maybe they were hungover—not likely. Maybe…maybe…her mind was running out of options. What could have happened that would make them seem as if they were dead, but really they were only sleeping. Drugs? Alcohol? Sleep deprivation? Migraine? But none of those made any sense. Why would both of them be like that at the same time?
"What happened?" Scarlett whispered, looking straight ahead.
"I...killed...them. I...I didn't mean to...I was frightened...and Momma...she and I...we were chopping vegetables...for lunch...and then there was a...a big BOOM! And my knife...well...I promise I didn't mean to."
Scarlett was mumbling incoherent words into her hands.
"Charles, what have you done?" she finally whispered.
"Scarry...you have to...believe me...I was startled...and you know...how finicky I get...around big noises."
Scarlett, crying, heard a twig break. She snapped her head up, with cheeks stained with wet tears and black eyeliner, and saw a brown eyed, dirty blonde-haired boy.
"Tristan?" she breathed. He was the new kid in school. He was pretty hot. His sister, Mary Cox, had been the one who had told Scarlett that Charles was here. But whatever charm the other girls were determined to believe Tristan possessed was clearly invisible to Scarlett. So he was cute. But he didn't have that kindness that Scarlett desired in a boy, like Chance had. Chance was able to deal with the bitchy front Scarlett put up at school. He was able to see right through it, and knew who Scarlett really was…or that was how it seemed. But Tristan didn't have that. He was just an arrogant, egotistical jerk who only cared about football.
And then Tristan ran for it. Scarlett didn't even bother trying to chase after him. He was the most valuable player for the eighth grade football team, and no one could ever out-run him even if they wanted to.
"Charles, they'll lock you up for this," Scarlett whispered mechanically. She knew it was mean to tell him this, but she had to be honest. She was staring vacantly in front of her, not taking in what her eyes were seeing. Everything just seemed surreal, as if in a dream. She distantly thought about pinching herself to see if she really was dreaming, but the pain in her chest was proof enough that she was fully awake.
Charles sunk to his knees beside Scarlett and whispered, "I want daddy."
"Me too, Charles, me too." And then they both burst into tears, holding on to each other for support.
The only time Scarlett saw her father's and stepmother's bodies all bloodied and unmoving, she immediately burst into tears and went into a meltdown. It took several different paramedics and social security workers to calm her down enough to get her into a car to transport her to the police station, where she and Charles had to wait for hours for her actual mother to come and pick them up.
She and Charles had to move in with Scarlett's real mother as soon as it was absolutely possible, and Rosa instantly had Charles sent to some hospital afraid he would kill her as well. Scarlett and Charles both cried at being separated, but Scarlett managed to frequently visit him. She didn't understand how her life had so utterly changed in such a short amount of time. One day was the Queen of her school, the next day she was living with her drug-addicted, alcoholic mother, separated from her half-brother, and completely fatherless. She was an emotional wreck for weeks. Even Chance had given up on trying to console her. He couldn't even get out of her what was making her sad. No one knew yet what exactly had gone down. They only knew the gist of the story. Her father and stepmother brutally stabbed in their own home. Her half-brother sent away. Who killed her father? The students certainly didn't know. Where was her brother sent? Her classmates definitely had no idea. Why was her brother sent away? No clue there either.
The worst part about the whole situation was that ever since Charles was put in the hospital, he never uttered a word again.
Scarlett had to learn the hard way that her real mother didn't even care for her, and Scarlett began taking over the responsibilities of an adult. It took a quite a while getting used to this feeling. She was used to just letting her dad give her what she needed or wanted. She was used to waking up in a nice, big, warm bed every morning. She was used to having breakfast hot and ready on the table made by her loving stepmother. She was used to wearing designer clothes. She was used to being in control of everything.
After a week of living at her mother's house, she couldn't stand to look at the things her father had bought for her. It brought back too many emotional memories. And soon enough, she placed her most prized designer outfits into the bottom drawer of her chest of drawers where she would never have to open it and look at their beautiful fabric, reminding her of her beloved father.
It was three weeks later, and Scarlett was still a wreck. She had untidily put her unruly curls in a ponytail and threw on a baggy T-shirt and jeans. Her mother did
n't have the money like her father did to buy her expensive designer clothes, and Scarlett frankly didn't care anymore. She didn't care about many things anymore.
When Scarlett went back to school—forced by her mother—everybody avoided her. No one looked her directly in the eye or even spoke a simple word to her. Something was different. Sure, many people didn't speak to her when she first came back, but that was only because they didn't know what to say and couldn't really sympathize with her. Today it seemed as if they were actually…avoiding her.
"Libby?" Scarlett asked when she crossed her in the halls.
"Oh, hi, Scarlett, I uh...gotta go class. Don't wanna be late." That wasn't like Libby. She never cared about being late to class. That was on the bottom of her priority list.
