Lindy just wanted her life back. Was that so much to ask? Every day she missed something different, something she used to have that no longer belonged to her. She missed the most trivial of things most of the time. She would be warming up for PE and suddenly miss the way her team mates would make jokes while they all stretched their legs and their ankles. The forced jog around the gymnasium that most of the girls in her class whined incessantly about would bring back the slow burn in her calves and the memories of sprinting down the field, waiting to be passed the ball so she could shoot, and inevitably score. If Lindy thought about it long enough she could feel the warm sun on her hot, moist skin. She used to relish the days when they would play soccer in gym class and now it just depressed her.

She missed the way it felt seeing Grant at her locker, waiting to walk her to class. The way his leather jacket felt and most of all she missed that spark of something ineffable that shot up through her core whenever he touched her. She would overhear someone talk about sneaking out for lunch and smile fondly, remembering when she and Grant would wait until the halls were completely empty to play James Bond and get out the side doors, laughing about their great escape as they made their way to get lunch somewhere else.

She missed the obvious things, like the way her mother would always be there an hour into practice to bring her a drink and a bag of Pizzeria Pretzel Combos, promising next time she would bring Hostess Cupcakes, if she could ever sneak them past her father. She missed coming home to her mom’s dinners, and the way she would help Lindy with her Algebra homework before disappearing to do laundry, just to make sure Lindy had her uniform ready to wear to school the next day.

Never once did she think she would miss her overbearing, overprotective, overanalyzing, overenthusiastic, drill sergeant father. Never once did it cross her mind that she would long for his booming voice from the sidelines, telling her to get her head in the game, that she was slacking and could do so much better. Never once did she think she would miss that swell of anger and adrenaline she got from his so called ‘pep talks’ at the half time mark or during a time out. She definitely didn’t think she was going to miss the die hard competition she had with Tyler Lawless, always feeling somewhat inferior to the red head, which only made her drive that much stronger.

But she did. She missed all of it. She’d taken her life for granted, and now she wanted it all back. But wishing never did anyone any good, did it? No, it didn’t. And neither did pity. The whole town knew just who she was, and what had happened to her. Even after two years, she could feel the judgment in their eyes, or the remnants of pity. “Oh there goes that Calhoun girl. Poor thing- already born into a family like that, and to have her mother just up and leave? I hear she takes care of her poor old drunk father… and she had such a promising future.” Others sneered at her, judging her as if the departure of her mother had something to do with her, as if all of this was her choice.

Oh, God… to actually be able to choose.

—

“Dad. Daddy, wake up. You fell asleep on the couch again.” The tiny blond gently shook her father’s shoulder, only to get a groan in response. “Come on Dad. You need to get up. You’ve got that interview today.” The older man swatted at her absently. She could still smell the whiskey on his shirt, meaning they got the unemployment check right on time. Since being laid off from his last job at the dealership two towns over, Lindy’s father hadn’t bothered to look for a new job. No matter how many hints she would drop (though they decreased in their subtleness as time went on), or how many times she set up something for him, he never went, never bothered. She was slowly beginning to feel like her life was turning into “Pretty In Pink.” If it was, she would be so looking forward to the John Hughes ending. If only that happened in real life. But for now, she had to deal with the smell of whiskey and stale chips; The way she did almost every morning.

She shook her father one last time before resorting to drastic measures. With a seemingly clean cup and ice cold water, Lindy made her assault on her father, splashing the cold water on him.

“God damn it, Rosalind! What the hell was that for.”

“It’s a little preview of what you should be doing, Dad. You know, taking a shower? Getting up for work? Oh that’s right,” Lindy crossed her arms over her chest, “you don’t have a job.” Her voice was filled with ice as she looked down at the man in front of her, now featuring a large wet spot in his dirty, what used to be white tee shirt. She sighed, putting the glass down on the nearest flat surface. “Come on, Dad. We can’t keep living like this. I’m already working almost thirty hours a week as it is and we’re barely getting by. I can’t take on another job and expect to graduate.” She rested her hands on her hips and then gave him one of her stern looks. He sighed, looking her over. There was a long silence that passed between the two of them. The older man scrubbed his hands over his face, taking a long breath before looking back up at her.

“You look just like your mother when you do that.”

There was a short but tentative pause and after a beat Lindy walked out of the door and slammed it shut behind her.

—

There were two points in her day when Lindy felt the most alone. The first was always right in the morning, on her bus ride to school. She used to get rides with her friends, who had upper classmen for siblings, but those days were long gone. It seemed she had fallen out with everyone she used to be friends with. Everyone told her she had changed, that she wasn’t the same as she used to be. They were right.

It was during these times that she thought the most, and thinking, for her, was dangerous.

There was only one person Lindy felt at all connected to anymore, and it was a girl she once swore she despised. They had been friends as children, always put on opposite soccer teams because of their abilities, but ended up having way too much fun. The competition was instilled in the two girls from a young age, but as little kids, competition didn’t mean much. It didn’t stop you from being friends with each other. As time went on, it went from simple competition to a full blown rivalry. Whenever soccer was the topic, the girls got defensive. In the few months between her mother leaving and Tyler’s sister dying, the two grew closer again. Soccer was no longer an object for the blond, leaving all the glory to the red haired girl instead.

Both girls had something ripped from them, making their former quarrels over a silly thing like a sport so… irrelevant. They were similar in that way. The town wanted nothing to do with either girl, either. They avoided Tyler like the plague. They sneered behind Lindy’s back, and both girls could’ve cared less.

There was one difference between them, though. Tyler actually had a reason to be so messed up. When you were that close to death, and watched your older sister die, it did things to you. People got left all the time. People had drunk parents all over the place. So what made Lindy so special? Why should she have changed so much? It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t logical. So everyone just assumed she was stuck up, and took to casting her out. That suited Lindy just fine. She didn’t need people anyway. At least not people who abandoned her like that.

The bus ride made her feel empty. She could still recall the feeling of Grant’s arms around her shoulders as they sat in the back seat of Jack’s car. She could still remember how her heart leaped the very first time she hung around all of them, how it felt to be part of the in crowd, even if just by association. It was as clear as bell to her. And then it all crumbled beneath her, leaving her where she was now: lonely, shallow and broken.

Maybe she should’ve listened to Grant while she could. He was always telling her how terrible her father was, how he was pulling her back and holding her there, keeping her from everything that made her normal and happy. Lindy refused to listen, insisting that her father needed her. What could she do, if she didn’t take care of him who would? At the end of the day blood was thicker than water despite how much alcohol said blood contained. It didn’t stop her from missing Grant’s kisses that lingered on her lips for days.

—

She had tried. One couldn’t say she didn’t at least try. Lindy and Lucas were close in the past. Their childhood stories featured each other in almost every chapter. They were friends- had been, in the past. Something like that. So was it so wrong to want to strike something up between them? Or, not even that much- just to sit within the same ten feet. It wasn’t like she was trying to reminisce on yesteryear with him. All she wanted was a place to eat lunch. Even then, with someone she used to be so close to,  she felt like an outcast. Oh well, that was just her life, it seemed. She wasn’t meant for human interaction.

There was something tugging at her as she sat through another hour of history class, not particularly caring too much about what was going on. History had been the same facts over and over spanning the course of her years in school. It just seemed like the details expanded as the grade level climbed. So it wasn’t like she didn’t know this stuff already… at least in some detail. The only history she even cared about at the moment was her own, and her mind was wandering back to it.

Was she that much of a social outcast that it was impossible for her to have a conversation with someone? Even someone she used to be friends with? It seemed she was. Oh well, you couldn’t please everyone, could you. Lindy had stopped trying to please people at this point.

The bell ringing came as quite the nice sound to the blonde’s ears, and without a second’s pause, she scooped up her things and made her way to her locker. The halls were filled with teenagers bustling around, running to catch their bus, or get to their boyfriend, or whatever it was. As her locker came into view, she couldn’t help but feel a pang in her chest. She missed the way Grant looked leaning against it, all nonchalant and sexy, the way his hair would sort of fall across his forehead… No. This wasn’t okay. She didn’t want to think about him. With a large sigh, she pushed a hand through her hair.

“You look tired, blondie. Stayed up late holding Daddy’s hair back?” She knew that voice anywhere. The once comforting sound had turned to that of nails on a chalkboard for her. She gritted her teeth and shoved her books into her locker. “Aw, come on baby. Don’t be like that.”

“Don’t you have better things to be doing, Grant?” She could almost feel him smirk. Was this his twisted way of checking up on her? Was he making sure she was still miserable, with or without him?

“Most of the time. Now I’m just bored,” he eyed her before finishing his thought, “I’m sure you could entertain me. How’s the bad sitcom of your life going?” Lindy all but slammed her locker shut with a loud slam.

“Update me on yours first? How’s your wonderful gold digger of a mother?” She asked, walking away from him. As if attached to her, he followed her as she pushed through the doors and out into the courtyard, while she searched for her bus.

“Not nearly as joyful as your family, darling. At least mine has money, no matter how its obtained.” With that, she turned on her heel, facing him.

“Look, I don’t know what your problem is. We broke up. I’m not your concern anymore. Why don’t you just run along and go back to kissing Jack and Sam’s ass, hmm? Sounds like a good plan to me.” She turned back around, looking around. “Great. Now I’ve missed the bus. Hope you’re happy, jackass.” She said with a ‘hmph’.

“Temper, temper. Looks like Daddy’s rubbing off on you.” That was it. She took a deep breath then turned to face him with her blue eyes clamped shut.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” She began, her voice strained, obvious that she was holding back an outburst, “and I don’t know where you got the right to criticize my father.” She took another deep breath, brushing her hair away from her face- when did it start getting windy? She didn’t remember there being wind this morning. “But I suggest that you stop talking about him…right about now.” venom laced itself into her last words. It was getting a little more than windy as she tried to calm her breathing down. It was getting harsh, the kind of wind that you could feel biting at your skin. “Walk away, Grant, before I get really angry.”

But the boy in front of her wasn’t moving. He looked around, confused as she was at the sudden change in weather. She could see the look flash through his eyes.

“Lindy-” He began as his eyebrows stitched together. Uncertainty swam in his eyes as the confusion with the sudden change of weather set in.

“I said leave,” and took a deep breath but it was to no use, her heart just began racing even faster in the confines of her rib cage. It was near pounding, screaming to break free from her chest.

“Why aren’t you leaving?” Her voice was pure ice. With one last look at her and nothing else to say, Grant walked away, looking back over his shoulder, that look of calm and bewilderment still present in his eyes.

As soon as he was gone, she all but collapsed, leaning against the nearest wall. It seemed the campus had emptied and it was her alone as she gasped for breath. Lindy wondered what just happened; she went over it in her head- the way her heart was beating, the adrenaline that rushed through her. Just as the wind started to pick up. Was that…. it couldn’t have been because of her… could it? She looked around at the empty campus, not feeling even the slightest breeze. It was just a coincidence. Maybe she’d imagined it.

Or maybe… maybe it was because of her.

So much for being normal.

Kurt Vonnegut once said, “We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.“ 

Looking around the classroom, Lucas couldn’t help but think there was an overwhelming amount of truth to that statement. High school was pretend-central. Everyone knew it was a popularity contest, and that meant that pretending to be someone else was something most people did. To be better liked, to become more popular, to not be judged as harshly as you would be otherwise. Everyone had their own reasons to pretend to be someone else, each reason less convincing than the other, but wasn’t that kind of the point? High school was what you left behind after life really started. Only people didn’t realize that for some, high school was all there was.

At the top of the food chain of this particular high school were a number of people whom fascinated Luke quite a bit. He loved watching people and watching his classmates interact, though seemingly dull to most people, was one of the most interesting things in the world to him. He firmly believed that you could make every situation more interesting by studying the people who you were in that situation with. Currently, the situation was called history class, and he was making it more interesting by watching his classmates interact. Some were messing around, tossing their pens at the ceiling, trying to make them stick there. Some were paying attention, scribbling away furiously as they tried to keep up with what Mrs. Mills was telling them.

Lucas wasn’t. History class bored him. History itself was something he was fascinated with, though that meant that he knew most of the things the teacher was telling them already. Reason one why the class was boring. Reason two being that Mrs. Mills had the most boring, monotone voice in the whole wide universe, making it incredibly hard to focus on what she was saying.

“Mister Meadowes.”

Point in case. He’d been staring somewhat blindly ahead of himself, his classmates’ obvious boredom at what Mrs. Mills was telling them not very entertaining to watch, so when he suddenly found himself face to face with Mrs. Mills he jumped, not having expected her to be so close all the sudden. She was glaring at him through her huge glasses, obviously trying to be intimidating. It might’ve worked if she didn’t remind him so much of that nutty Divination professor from the Harry Potter books. Trelawney.

“What was the question again?”

He shot her his best, most sickeningly sweet, fake smile in an attempt to get her to back off a little. It usually worked.

“Name the two most important battles that took place west of the Mississippi River.” Mrs. Mills looked rather triumphant, obviously feeling as if this question was too hard for him to just be able to answer. He was afraid he was going to have to disappoint though.

“The Battle of Wilson’s Creek and the Battle of Pea Bridge.” He didn’t as much as miss a beat, sending her another one of his smiles, watching her retreat from his desk and back to her spot in front of the class, seemingly somewhat disappointed that she hadn’t made him slip up.

Sometimes Lucas liked his obsession with history a lot. It sure did get him out of trouble in history class.

—

Lunch time at Wainley Hallows was generally crazy. Almost like a scene out of Mean Girls, which, Lucas would deny having watched that movie more than once if he was ever asked. It was Charlie’s fault he watched it anyway. If he told people she made him watch they’d probably believe him.

There was a very distinctive divide between the supposed ‘popular’ kids and the supposed ‘nobodies’. Lucas himself being classified as a ‘nobody’ in that particular comparison, which was something he didn’t actually care a whole lot about. It was all irrelevant anyway. High school would be over sooner than later and all the ‘popular’ kids would turn into low-life jackasses and soccer moms whilst the ‘nobodies’ would finally get their chance to get the hell out of this town and make something out of their lives. It was a tad black and white, the picture he’d just painted in his head, but some days he couldn’t help but think it was true.

He mused on those thoughts whilst munching on the peanut butter and jelly sandwich he’d brought with him from home. Future overweight soccer mom’s and alcoholics. He couldn’t help but laugh a little to himself before shaking his head and tuning out most of it out; instead deciding that it would be better to give all of his focus to reading an article he’d come across earlier in the library.

Lucas had a particular interest in the history of this town, which was funny when you realized how much of a shit-hole he sometimes thought it was, but still. An interest regardless. There was quite some history to it and well, history was kind of his thing. It started with his grandma telling him stories about the town’s history when he was just a little kid and his interest never really wavered after that.

The article he was reading wasn’t of a lot of value to Luke’s education here; it was an old school report written by a nameless student who’d seemed equally fascinated with the town’s history, for this one student had written countless essays about exactly that. The town’s history. This particular report was about a legend that Lucas found interesting. It spoke of supernatural beings and super powers and it was probably just that, a legend. But it still managed to get his attention. Aside from history, all things supernatural were another interest of his, mostly sparked by the comics he read and the obscure TV shows that struck his fancy, but that was hardly the point.

He looked up from his lunch when someone sat down next to him without really announcing themselves, forcing him back to reality rather abruptly. Luke turned to glare lightly at the person, not quite liking the fact that his little moment of peace had been interrupted.

Lindy Calhoun. Rosalind, really, but Luke knew her well enough to know that was not exactly the name she went by. He hadn’t spoken to her in a while to be honest, they used to be a lot closer, but that kind of faded. Different social circles, different ‘crowds’ as they said, all the usual bullshit excuses why friendships kind of watered down to a wave and a ‘hi’ in the hallways, and then to nothing at all. “Another flaw in the human character is that everybody wants to build and nobody wants to do maintenance.” Vonnegut again. Befriending someone was easy. Relatively. Maintaining a friendship: that was a different story altogether.

“Mind if I join you?” Lindy’s voice pulled him away from his thoughts and he frowned for a moment, having been somewhat lost in said thoughts, but then he shook his head, clearing his mind. “Yeah, no, of course.” He offered her a light smile, pulling his lunch a bit more to his side of the table to make more room for her, watching her as she sat down beside him.

There were a few long moment of silence as Lindy prodded at her lunch with a fork, seemingly distracted, staring somewhat blindly at her food before she seemed to remember he was still there.

“How have you been?” Luke wasn’t one for small talk, honestly, but she’d been his friend once, a very close friend at that, and though they didn’t talk much now he saw no harm in at least being friendly.

She’d never wronged him in any way and though they grew apart there hadn’t been any apparent reason for that to have happened. It just kind of did. Happen that is.

“I’ve been alright. Nothing interesting going on really.” Her answer was on the short side, a certain tone to her voice that he couldn’t quite place. Was it annoyance, annoyance aimed at him wanting to make small talk? Perhaps it was something else. He couldn’t put his finger to it.

“How about you?”

He thought back, trying to think of when the last time they spoke was. Had to have been at least a few weeks, if not more. He wasn’t sure what had happened since that time, couldn’t remember all of it. He was good with dates. Events. History. Not with remembering what he spoke to people about and when. Too many things clouded his mind, he’d get confused if he had to remember all of that. Taking pictures was easier. Better method to help oneself remember, but that wasn’t really relevant right now.

“I’m good. Pretty good anyway. Same old, same old really.”

He found himself wishing he had a more interesting answer to offer her.

—

Breakfast. Walk to school. Classes. More classes. Lunch. More classes. Newspaper. Meet up with Drama. Walk home. Luke’s schedule didn’t vary much from day to day, except that the extracurricular activities differed sometimes. Then it was Newspaper, then it was tutoring, but it didn’t matter much for how long he was stuck at school. He had something after school almost every single day and he actually quite liked it like that. His mum and step dad worked a lot of night shifts, which meant they slept during the day, which in turn meant that if he got home early he’d just have to sneak around the house, be quiet and basically pretend like he wasn’t there in the first place.

Seeing as he didn’t like that, he just made himself scarce from the house until it was dinner time. Most days anyway. Today there was nothing extra and his Physics class had been cancelled so he’d headed home early. There was movie night with Charlie later that day, at least, that’s what he’d decided. She was visiting her mum today; experience told him she would need some cheering up after she got home from that and movies, popcorn and him serving the purpose of personal pillow generally cheered her up a bit.

 
He hadn’t really expected to find anything or anyone at home when he got there. Apart from the usual dead to the world parents happily nestled upstairs snoring away in their bedroom. So when he walked in to find that there was a whole bunch of pictures and photo books and other pieces of paper strewn across the table, he had to say he was a bit surprised.

There was a slight frown on his face as he made his way over to the table, sitting himself down on one of the kitchen chairs to look at some of the pictures. He was in most of them, with his dad, with both his parents, with Lindy, there were a bunch of him and Sam as well. The memories that came with the pictures made him smile as he looked through them and he couldn’t help but shake his head at the overly cliche thought that crossed his mind.

“Things were so much easier back then” he mumbled to himself, mentally rolling his eyes at himself for actually going ahead and voicing the thought. Thinking it was bad enough really.

Were they really though? Easier. He supposed they were. It made sense though. You didn’t have to worry about anything because most of the things that went on in your world didn’t actually concern you. Your parents worried about everything that needed to be worried about, they were also responsible for all the things you did because in everyone else’s mind you were still a little kid who couldn’t be held responsible. Luke wondered vaguely if it was possible to pinpoint the exact age where people stopped thinking you couldn’t be held responsible for the things you did. Shaking his head and the thought away once he decided that it wasn’t something that was possible he returned his focus instead to the mess of things in front of him. Here and now is what matters.  

He rifled through everything else on the table, trying not to make too much of a mess of things when he caught sight of a familiar looking piece of paper. Another smile crossed his features as he pulled it towards him from the far end of the table, unfolding the rather old and tattered looking piece of paper.

“Over a hundred years ago..” the paper said, in his grandmother’s squiggly handwriting and Luke didn’t even have to read the rest to know what the rest was. It was one of his favorite stories that his grandmother used to tell him. A legend of sorts, about the founding families of this town, the Meadowes family being one of those families. He used to love listening to his grandmother telling him tales of days gone by, she was an amazing story teller. Still was actually, to this day, only she suffered from Alzheimer’s, which Luke thought was the worst thing that could happen to a great mind like hers. Sadly, thinking it was the worst thing that could happen, didn’t make it go away. If only it did.

Folding the piece of paper carefully, he tucked it in his pocket, before pulling the notepad that was also on the table towards himself. Leaning back, he pulled his school bag towards him, digging a pen up from somewhere deep down, smirking lightly to himself as he wrote a quick note.

Meet me in the woods after school.

Turned out Lucas would be paying Sam’s house a quick visit today. Had to show her those pictures he’d found after all.

—

You could tell a lot about a person from the way they decorated their own room. After movie night with Charlie, Luke found himself at home, the house empty except for him and the dog, Dodger, who was sound asleep on his bed by the time Luke made it back home. He liked being home alone. Having the house to himself. When he was young he would use being home alone as an excuse to run around the house, turning up his music insanely loud and singing along like a maniac whilst making himself all sorts of unhealthy snacks. Truth be told, he did still do that some days. Mostly though, he would retreat to his room with something to drink and a snack, taking Dodger with him and getting his homework out of the way before watching some movie or some show or another.

Tonight was movie night with Charlie. She would probably need some cheering up.

His room was a collection of all sorts of things. He was a hoarder; the worst kind, who didn’t only want to keep everything he owned, but also wanted to keep it all close. His room was filled with all sorts of little trinkets that generally only got in the way. He’d barely had room for his school books last year. There were whole shelves filled with books, mostly history books, a random pile of comic books could be found every now and then as well, but they were mostly history books. Romans, Greeks, European History, American History, History of England, and then of course there was his large collection of books on all sorts of myths and lore’s and even fairy tales.

Needless to say, Lucas read a lot of books.

Then there were the random things he collected; key chains from all the towns and cities across the world he’d visited, shells from the beach, random colorful rocks he’d found all over the world. His mother couldn’t always take off from work, but when she could she’d take him on trips across the globe. Africa, Europe, Australia. Lucas had seen a lot of places for someone his age and he quite liked that. He kept things, from the trips. Tourist booklets, tickets to shows he’d seen abroad, train tickets, bus tickets, plane tickets, you name it. For some reason he liked having proof of having been somewhere. Made it more real.

Some of the pictures from downstairs were now spread across his desk, mingled with the rest of the stuff he kept on his desk. Articles for the school newspaper, clippings and pictures he noticed in the newspaper or in magazines that he thought were worth keeping, even if most of the clippings he kept were pretty insignificant.

He was rifling through the pictures slowly, humming along with the music he’d turned on, when he was suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling, a sense that something was so incredibly wrong. Not just any ordinary feeling, this felt different, this was so much bigger than any other time he’d felt something was off. It felt so much more real.

Anyone felt like something was wrong from time to time. You could sense it in your friends when something had happened; it made their behavior seem strange, off, not the same as normal and if you knew them well enough you picked up on that. But there wasn’t anyone here right now. Both his mum and step dad were away at work, his friends weren’t anywhere near his house either and yet the feeling that something was wrong came over him even when no one else was there. Out of the blue, overwhelming enough to make his breath hitch in his throat, and he inhaled sharply, eyes slightly widened as he shook his head slightly, attempting to shake the feeling. He seemed to be unable to do so though. He felt it in every fiber of his body, every fiber of his being, this completely and utterly overwhelming sense that something horrible had happened. Something unimaginably horrible, yet he didn’t see how he could be feeling like that.

It got less as the minutes passed, the feeling, and though there was a certain uneasiness that Luke seemed unable to shake, he decided to try and ignore that. He couldn’t think of anything possibly being wrong. The phone hadn’t rung, no one had called or texted him on his cell to tell him something had happened … as far as he knew everything was just fine. It had been nothing more than a random feeling. Out of the blue, sure, and overwhelming, yes, but still just a feeling. Nothing major. Or so he told himself.

—

There was a crackling noise, about thirty minutes later, as out of the blue as the feeling had been and Luke’s tv jumped on then, seemingly on its own accord. He jumped, spinning around in his chair, convinced someone else was in the room. How the tv turned itself on was beyond him, but he was soon focused on something else.

The news was on.

“… a horrible car accident cost six people their lives. The accident, involving several cars, happened about thirty minutes ago on the main road in Wainley Hallows, Portland. Authorities say there isn’t much they can tell us at the moment, just that at least three cars were involved in the accident, which seems to have been the result of…”

As the reporter went on, Luke tuned out, simply staring at the TV screen in front of him, unable to stop himself from thinking that maybe, just maybe, this was what caused the unsettling feeling that had coursed through him not thirty minutes ago.