Chapter 2

I wolfed down the remaining eggs, more to avoid the taste than out of enjoyment. Grabbing my bag, I rose and headed to my little, beat-up burgundy car parked in the driveway. Dad hurriedly stood up as I passed him. “Wait, I can take you to school if you want,” he suggested, retrieving his keys from the silver hook on the wall. I shook my head. “Oh no, that’s really okay Dad. I need to learn how to get there myself anyway.” He narrowed his eyes. “C’mon, you can do that tomorrow. Let your old man drop you off on your first day.” His insistence cut through the air, making it clear this wasn't just a suggestion anymore. I rolled my eyes. “Ughhh, Dad, haven't you done enough? You've already dragged us to this hellhole, and now you can't even trust me to get to school by myself? I'm not a little kid anymore, Dad. I just need some space—five minutes where it doesn’t feel like you're breathing down my fucking neck!” I exclaimed in frustration. A shade of disappointment clouded his face. Instantly, I regretted my choice of words. “Sorry, Dad, I didn’t mean that… of course you can take me to school,” I sighed, forcing a small smile. I gave him a quick hug and headed towards the front door to the driveway. I hopped into his enormous black truck, and he closed the door behind me. After he settled into the driver’s seat, he started the engine, and we headed for my new school. Besides the GPS on Dad’s phone, silence engulfed the car. I wanted to tell him about my weird dreams about Mom, but I knew he would just brush it off like he did everything else. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke. “Angel, I’m sorry if you feel like I’m suffocating you. It’s just… after your mom left, I realized how much I need to love and protect you because if I don’t, who else is going to do it? Of course, you won’t be able to understand this, but it’s just a lot of pressure being a single parent; especially since I never imagined your mom would just up and leave the way she did,” he explained frankly, his gaze fixed straight ahead at the road as he drove. “I understand, Dad. I’m not trying to make things harder on you,” I mumbled, a lump forming in my throat. An overwhelming sense of guilt washed over me. I've always carried the belief that somehow it was my fault that my mother left, so he's right. How could I be anything but grateful to him for stepping up and trying his best to raise me by himself? Sure, he made mistakes, like all parents do, but he didn’t just disappear when things got hard like my worthless mother did. It would be incredibly selfish not to forgive him more easily. I tried to muster a more optimistic outlook as we reached the school. He maneuvered the car to the front of the enormous, red brick building that proudly displayed the name “WinterCrest High.” Above it, a logo featuring an imposing black wolf caught my eye, its gaze seemingly fixed on me. A shiver traced up my spine, a disconcerting reminder of the wolves that haunted my dreams. Bringing the car to a halt at the curb, Dad gestured for me to exit. "Thanks for trying to see things my way, baby girl. Text me when you’re ready to be picked up, okay?" His words carried a newfound cheerfulness, and he gently planted a kiss on my forehead. A faint smile graced my lips. “Thanks, Dad. Love you!” With my bag in hand, I stepped out of the truck, closed the door, and observed as he waved and swiftly drove away. As I approached the entrance of WinterCrest High, a dark, suffocating wave of fear washed over me. A multitude of students streamed in the same direction, and more were arriving, offering a glimmer of hope—I could seamlessly merge into the crowd, fading into the sea of faces and escaping notice. Pushing open the doors, an eerie hush fell over the crowd, and it may have been my imagination, but it felt as though everyone stopped and stared at me. Some exchanged low whispers with one another. My heart pounded; blood rushed to my cheeks as I hurried past them towards the administrator's office. The door stood ajar, and a post-it note on the handle read, 'Be back in 10 minutes – Greene.' Uncertain how long it had been there, I entered the office. A faint scent of sage and vanilla filled the air, adding a welcoming touch. Glancing around, I confirmed the room was indeed empty, seizing the opportunity to calm my nerves before a potential panic attack ensued. Deep breath in, breathe out. Deep breath in, breathe out. Instantly, my body relaxed. After recomposing myself, I took in the office's decor. It was evident that someone harbored a love for plants (anthophilic). Potted plants adorned every surface, and ivy vines elegantly lined the corners of the room. Dominating the space was a substantial wooden desk at the room's center. Positioned at each corner were two inviting blue armchairs, accompanied by small, round rosewood tables. I noticed two framed pictures on the principal's desk, presumably of her family. In the first photo, a baby boy and girl sat in a basket. The second picture portrayed a family of four at the beach: an adult man and woman, along with teenage versions of the babies from the other photo. All of them possessed stunning features, with beautiful russet, reddish-brown skin, and captivating hazel eyes. The teens looked to be around my age. The girl in the picture was effortlessly flawless, possessing a beauty that could make people envious. She sported a purple bikini that accentuated her perfect body and defined abs. What really caught my eye though was the boy in the picture. I swear his face had to be sculpted by angels. He was shirtless in the picture with the body of a sex god; his broad shoulders and chiseled abs made my mouth water. His ash-brown curls gracefully fell just above his shoulders.