Waindale

I didn't think towns like this existed-ones towered over by trees and drowning in blues and greens. Ones that make your hairs stand up. Ones that have pathways through the forest that lead nowhere. Ones that have a bizarre history bubbling under its surface. I thought such places existed exclusively on television screens and in the pages of my angsty, young adult novels. But as I watch it all grow in front of our car-the trees and the dull colors and the heavy clouds-I know that those creators got their inspiration from real places and not just their heads.

I can't help but press my hand against the window and wish to be exploring. My eyes bounce from the dark pockets of moss and rocks and brush to the glimpses of water just beyond the forest. The chilled coast reminds me of those many little rocks. When we would visit Grandma over the summer, I would flock to the beach but hate the pebbles. I never understood why it wasn't golden sand as it is at home. Its emptiness did excite me, though. At home, I would never have the beach to myself.

It's been so long. Mom said ten years. Taking it all in now, I can't help but scold young me for not begging to come back. Yes, California is the dream-land, but not for me.

"Wren, look," my mom says from the front seat. My eyes flock to her window. "Do you remember it at all?"

My Grandmother's house sits between two monstrous fir trees. There's a rope hanging from one of the branches and my mind clicks to when we built my swing together. I suppose the many years haven't tolerated it.

"Yeah, a little. The backyard has the clothesline, right? The one with the white poles. I used to climb it."

"Oh, right. I remember that." She glances at me. "You fell and scraped up your knees. The rest of the trip you complained about your knees and wouldn't go in the water."

My mom turns onto the driveway and parks next to my Grandma's car-an old Corolla. "Alright," she says. "We made it."

I sit back and breathe, "Finally."

"You wanna go in, say hi, then grab the stuff? She's dying to see you."

We get out of the car and ring the doorbell. The brick flower bed stretched along the house entertains me until the door opens.

"Oh my goodness! Look at you!"

Her voice sounds like my childhood. The screen door releases her and suddenly her soft arms are wrapped around me. "Hi, Grandma," I sing as she pulls back and studies my face. Her cool hands rest on my shoulders.

"Wrenley, you're so big now. Last time I saw you, last time you were, what, this big?" She holds out her hand near my chest. "What happened?"

"Ten years happened, Mom," my mother says and receives a tight hug as well.

"Aren't you two cold?" Grandma asks. "Come on, come on, I can put on the fireplace. You used to love the fireplace, Wrenley."

We sit in the living room as Grandma turns on the fireplace and grabs a plate of the lemon cookies I used to love. I take one and bite. Soft, thick, addictive-just as I remember.

"Are you ready for school, dear?" Grandma asks and sits.

"I mean, yeah. It's all very sudden, but I'm sure I'll be just fine."

"That's good. That's good. You know, it's the high school your mother went to."

I look to my mom and she smiles. "Oh, yes. How can I forget Waindale High School?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask.

"It's not like there's another school I could have gone to, kid."

Grandma says, "Well, no, there's the privet school a few minutes away, but you went to the high school just around the corner. You can walk to school, Wrenley. It's just a, I don't know, five, six-minute walk."

"Back home, I'd drive her fifteen minutes to school," my mom tells Grandma. "This is a nice change, then, right? You don't have to leave early with me anymore, Wren."

I smile and take another cookie.

After getting our boxes and bags out of the car, I unpack my things in my new bedroom. My mother will be across the hall while Grandma's room is sat at the end. Being in a house with no men won't be anything new, but living with Grandma will surely have its differences compared to living with just mom. I've already been told to be quiet past ten o'clock when Grandma goes to bed. It's not anything catastrophic, thankfully.

As of now, I have my bedding and clothes and necessities such as toiletries and school supplies. Everything else will be arriving next week.

When I finish stuffing pillows into my pillowcases, I look out the window as it starts to rain. I'll have to get rain boots and an umbrella-things I've never had before. It's crazy thinking that on Monday I'll be at a whole new school with new people and teachers and rules. There's something refreshing about it, though. They're changes I'm welcoming with open arms. It's not like I left much in California, anyway. A friend or two at most. Charisma isn't something I have in abundance-instead, I specialize in being quiet and getting lost in my thoughts. My mom says it's because I'm all her and none of my Dad.

Don't worry, I'm not damaged. Dad left when I was just a baby. It's like getting my ears pierced as an infant; there's no pain that I can remember.

The next morning, I wake up to my Grandma watching T.V. as she drinks her coffee. Old game shows play on repeat. "Where's Mom?" I ask.

"Oh, she's just on the porch. She's on the computer, you know, working on her writing."

I nod and slip outside. I find my Mom sitting under a blanket with her laptop on her lap. There's a mug of coffee on the wicker table in front of her, steaming into the crisp morning air. "Hi," I say.

She peers up and pats the spot beside her on the patio furniture. I sit and she shares her blanket. "Are you working on the novel?"

"Yeah," she says. "Being in Waindale with the trees and the creepiness-it's helping."

My mom has been writing her second book for a few months while working a regular office job. Now that we've moved, she's left the office job and is focusing primarily on her novel. It makes for plenty of silent mornings and evenings, but I suppose I have Grandma to talk to now.

"I think I'm going to go for a walk. Explore this town," I say.

"Sure, just be careful. Stick to the paths because you can get lost, trust me. And don't go too far. I'll be here with Grandma."

I quickly get dressed in warm clothes-my old hoodie and a pair of jeans is the best I can do for now. After assuring Grandma that I'll eat when I get back, I slip on my shoes and hope that it doesn't start to rain.

"Here, Wrenley." I turn and see Granda with an umbrella. "Take this just in case, okay?"

"Okay, thanks."

It's a little cold and the ground is damp, but nothing ugly enough to stop me. I can finally walk through these giant trees and hopefully check out the beach as well.

Everything is a little wet. The concrete sidewalk is cracked and lush with weeds, and if I had rain boots, I definitely wouldn't be avoiding the puddles. A car will drive by every now and then, but such sounds grow distant as I turn onto one of the forest trails. The ground is spongy, sinking underneath my feet. My eyes roam over the protruding roots-some large enough to sit on. The people that live here must be tired of the rain and the cold and the darkness, but the smile that hit my face in the car yesterday hasn't left.

My fingers press into the moss that coats an ancient tree as I near the water. I can see speckles of deep blue through the green, and thankfully the path is taking me there. Just as the trees begin to thin out, something to my right catches my attention. Something coated in fur.

Leaving the path only a little, I step over roots and weave through bushes as I hear the delicate noises of what I'm hoping is a rabbit. I catch sight of the grey thing again and move slower. It has to be a rabbit.

The ground seems to get wetter the further I venture into the trees. Just as I am about to give up, the little rabbit shows itself down a dip in the forest. The path is just behind me, so I attempt to hike down the dip but end up sliding on my butt. My jeans soak up the dew and dirt as I let out a yelp. I mutter a few curses on the forest floor and try to wipe the dirt from my hands on to tree bark. Of course, the rabbit is nowhere in sight. "Just perfect," I murmur and rub my hands on my swamped pants. The mud weighs me down and makes my face scrunch up in disgust. I never had to deal with anything like this in California.

As I turn to somehow get up the hill, a noise makes my heart jolt. I look back and try to assume that it's the rabbit, but the twisted branches and grey clouds are making it hard.

The sound comes again, like snapping twigs and rustling bushes and howling winds all in one. I suck in a sharp breath as a dark thing lurks in the distance, only visible for a second. Spinning around, I claw my way up the hill and dash for the path. My shoes seem to cake on more and more mud the more steps I take. I try to kick it off, but it's like cement.

The dark thing flashes in the distance again-in front of me. My throat dries.

I run in the direction of the road. When the sound of cars reaches my ears, a spark of hope ignites. I carry on through the trees and soon hop over the wooden fence and trample onto the sidewalk. Scraping off the dirt from my shoe on the curb-once I'm free-I hurry home.

The clouds break and sunlight seeps through. In a few minutes, I'm charging up the porch steps and crashing into the kitchen where my mom and Grandma are. They're up at the sight of me.

"There was a bear," I shout and frantically shed my layers.

"What?" My mother leaves the table and comes to me. "A bear? Where?"

"I was walking on the path to the beach and there was this big dark thing. I think it was a black bear. Are there black bears?"

My grandma, flushed, says, "Why, there are black bears here. I should call the town hall. Usually they don't get so close. They need to put out a warning."

"Did it get close to you?" My mom asks.

"It was close enough to know that I'm there. I think it was stalking me. It was behind me then in front of me." I can feel the sweat on my face. "I ran back to the street then here. I could have died out there!"

My grandma grabs the phone and heads into the other room to report the sighting.

"I mean, thank god you're okay. They need to be aware of such things. There could be other people out there with that bear around."

I take a breath. "I need to shower. I fell in the mud."

"Okay. Give me your clothes, don't put them on the floor. Hopefully they have a warning out in a few minutes. Just, let's be cautious from now on, okay?"

I nod and hug her before really calming down in my steaming shower. As I scrub the dirt from under my nails, I can't help but contemplate all the possible outcomes of my stupidity. I have a new rule to live by; stay on the trail-things lurk in the darkness.

I walk to Waindale High School on Monday morning-well-I briskly walk and avoid the trees at all costs. The bear warning was put out, but Grandma said this morning that there wasn't another sighting. It must have run off, is her reasoning.

Waindale High School seems like an okay place to be. The outside is wet-looking like everything else, but like most high schools is a bunch of bricks and doors and windows and cars. The people in the front office are nice and walk me to my first class. It's like ripping off a bandaid every time I enter a classroom and say that I'm new. I suppose this is what happens when you change schools when the year has already begun.

Some students are kind enough to introduce themselves, but most are too preoccupied with their own lives to notice my existence-which is just fine with me. It's hard coming up with things to say.

At lunchtime, a girl with red hair hurries up to me and grabs my arm. I spill a sound of confusion as she takes me to a table. Gripping the strap of my bag, I stand awkwardly when she releases me.

"Hi, I'm Vivian, but most people call me Viv. I saw you standing over there alone, so I thought I would invite you to my table since you're new."

"How do you know-"

"Your name is Wrenley, right? Word travels fast around here. That's a pretty name, though. Please, sit. The others should be coming soon."

I glance back and make another noise of confusion.

Vivian takes it upon herself to grab my hand and pull me down. "You don't have to be shy, really. I hope we can be friends."

I sit and place my bag on the table. "Sorry, I just, you're very straight-forward."

"I know. Some people like it, others don't. Does it bother you?"

"Oh, uh, no. I'm just surprised. Um."

Her pale skin looks so delicate under her pretty blouse. Vivian smiles and something about it makes my heart warm. "So how are you acclimating to the weather?"

"I-I actually like it. It's really different than what I'm used to."

"Oh," she says and turns to a boy who's settling down at the table. His eyes don't leave me. "Wrenley, this is my friend Eli."

Eli smiles a little, nods his head, then glares at Vivian. My insides grow heavy and I wonder if I should excuse myself.

"What are you doing, Viv?" He asks lowly.

She turns away from him. "So, Wrenley, do you play any sports or are you more of a club person? I'm in the student body government as the secretary. We already had our elections for the year, though. I would suggest you join if there were still spots."

"Oh, that's okay. It's not really my thing."

Her head tilts. "So what is your thing?"

"Uh, I-I like to read and watch T.V."

"Oh, well, that's cute." A girl sits down beside Eli and seems shocked by my presence as well. Vivian perks up. "Wrenley, this is my other friend, Elara. Eli and Elara are together. Isn't that cute-that their names are so similar."

"Hi, Wrenley," Elara says then turns to Eli. They face away from us as they talk.

Beginning to feel unwelcome, I grip my bag. "It was nice meeting you guys. I actually have to go to the office about schedule stuff."

Vivian frowns. "Oh, okay. We'll see you later then?"

"Yeah, um, see you guys later."

As I walk to the cafeteria doors, I peer back and watch them argue. Relief washes over me in the hallway, although I have to hide somewhere so they don't see me.

Outside there is an area with picnic tables. I take a seat even though most people are inside-my eyes are occupied by the trees, anyway. The clouds aren't as dark as yesterday, so I don't have to worry about it raining when I walk home. The rest of lunch, I think about the bizarre conversation with Vivian and how her friends didn't seem to want me there. If I could, I would walk home now.

When school is over, I head back and Grandma asks about my first day.

"It was okay. People were nice," I say.

"That's good. What about your classes? Do you like them?"

I shrug. "Yeah, they're okay too. The teachers are nice. The work doesn't seem too hard."

"Oh, I got a call. There still aren't any other sightings. I think it went home, right? At least it's gone."

I nod. "Yeah. At least it's gone."

That night I have the strangest dream. I'm laying on the cold, damp ground without any clothes on, buried deep in the forest at night. Laying on my side, I curl up into a ball and shake as noises become louder and louder. Leaves and dirt cling to my body, and I stay still, hearing something heavy approaching. Holding my breath, the dark thing towers over me, it's electric eyes burning my skin. I squeeze my eyes shut. The dark thing licks from my hip to my shoulder, the streak of warmth jarring me awake.

I can't fall back asleep. The night pours through my window and watches me.

In the morning, my ghost looks back at me in the mirror, her pale skin and grey eyes startling me. Grandma made waffles and gives me an extra one, believing my sickly-ness to be from a lack of food. I pass my mom on the porch as I leave. This seems to be her new spot. Back home, it was the recliner in our living room.

It rains on my way to school. I close my umbrella before entering the building.

Just as I look up, Vivian appears. I step back as my hand slaps my chest. "Oh! Vivian, hi. You scared me." Was she waiting for me?

"Sorry. I just saw you come in. Thought I would say hi. I realized that I may have scared you away yesterday, so I wanted to apologize if I came on too strong."

I clear my hair from my face and say, "No, it's okay. At least I can say I know someone here."

She smiles. "Great. Actually, I should tell you that my mother used to be friends with your mother. That's why I was so eager to meet you. They were close in high school."

"Wow. I didn't know. She hasn't told me about her old friends, so... Uh, what's your last name? I'll tell her when I get home."

"It's Smith. My mom's name is Talisa, but she goes by Tali. Your mom would know her by Tali."

"Okay, well, I'll let her know."

When the day is over and I'm turning onto Grandmas property, I see my mom outside. "Have you been there all day?" I call to her.

"I'm on a roll, Kid," she says while finishing up a sentence or two.

I climb the steps and sit across from her. "Tali Smith."

She immediately looks up at me. "What? What did you say?"

"I'm friends with Tali Smith's daughter, I guess."

My mom sets down her laptop and runs a hand through her hair. "Oh my god. Tali Smith. She's still here? In Waindale?"

"I guess so. Her daughter found me at school and told me."

"How would she know who you are? I haven't talked to Tali since I left, long before you were born."

I shrug. "Don't know. Just thought you would be interested."

"Yeah, definitely. Maybe I should reach out to her. I wonder if she still on Munkton. Let me go ask Grandma." She gets up and disappears inside. Alone, I turn around and look over the rail. With my arms resting on top of it, I watch the empty street. There's no one across it, no house or anything, just an overgrown lot and the forest behind it.

I think about my dream and that dark thing that haunts me. When I expected it to tear me apart, it licked me-which is less frightening and more puzzling. It is also weird. Very weird. Thinking about the sensation makes my limbs twitch.

Tonight when I've finished getting ready for bed, I dance around the idea of sleeping and wander my dark bedroom. I settle at the window and stare out into the night until it lightens up. My mind plays tricks with me and paints an image of the dark thing against the forest. My eyes squeeze shut, shoot open, and it's gone. When it starts to come back, I repeat. Squeeze shut, shoot open, it's gone. Squeeze shut, shoot open, it's gone. Then the painting becomes more detailed. Limbs, like a large dog. Electric yellow eyes. Its mouth starts to open and I squeeze my eyes shut. Open them-it's there. Squeeze shut. Open. Why won't it leave! White teeth shaped like a monster's appear and I duck under my window.

I reach up and yank the curtains closed. Not daring to look again, I crawl into bed and decide to sleep. Tossing and turning results in an hour or two of shut-eye here and there before the sun begins to rise. "No, no, no," I whisper to myself. "Sleep, Wren, sleep."

An hour later my alarm sounds.

Grandma gives me an extra bowl of cereal.

"What's going on with you?" She asks.

"I told you. I'm having a hard time sleeping."

My mom comes out from the bathroom and sits across from me at the table with her coffee and laptop ready to go. "Still not sleeping?" I shake my head. "Maybe we can get you melatonin or something," she suggests.

Grandma nods in agreement.

"Here, I'll give you money and you can stop on your way from from school." She gets up and retrieves her purse, handing me a twenty-dollar bill. "There's a drug store down the street from the school, on the corner, okay?"

After school, I make my way down the street, further than I've ever been. The drugstore is there, and on the third corner is a gas station. The fourth is a diner. I cross the street and enter the building, my twenty dollars tucked in my pocket. It's smaller than the regular CVS or Walgreens that I'm used to, but I find the vitamin section and luckily there are bottles of melatonin. I take one, buy it, keep the change, and cross the second street, the third, then enter the diner.

A man is sat at the bar while an elderly couple is comfortable in a booth. I sit down in a booth myself and place my bag beside me. A woman with thin, blonde hair hands me a menu.

I order a strawberry milkshake.

As I sip and work on homework, three guys around my age come through the door. They're dressed in the same outfit, and I realize that they must be from the private school. All three sit at the bar and order sodas and burgers and fries. When one glances my way, I swiftly turn back and sip the rest of my shake. I pack up my stuff and head home, catching a glimpse of the school's crest on their shirts. A wolf.

I take two melatonin gummies before climbing into bed. As usual, it takes a few hours for me to fall asleep, but once I am, I'm suddenly awake again.

Stumbling, I grab at a near tree and stabilize myself. My vision is a little blurry, but it's night again, and I can assume what's coming. Not wanting to face the dark thing, I turn and hurry toward what must be salvation. An owl coos above me, and crickets sing below me, and the distant sound of pounding steps grows from behind. Roots pull up from the ground and tangle around my ankles. I yank my feet free and tread on. When I grab onto trees, the bark sticks to my hands. Dirt is like glue caked on my feet. The air weighs down on me. The pounding steps are louder, closer, just behind me. I fall to the ground and cry out in frustration. Everything is holding me down. Everything is on its side.

Its breathing sounds in my ear. Restless, I try to jerk my limbs free and heave forward, but I'm not strong enough. Just when I expect its teeth to dig into my neck, a hand touches my back.

I wake suddenly, feeling the thing's touch lingering on my skin. It was a human hand. Someone touched me.

Grandma takes one look at me in the morning and shakes her head. "You still look tired, dear."

"I think the melatonin helped a little. Maybe I just have to get used to sleeping here."

She gives me an extra pancake, but I can't eat it. I feel sick.

At school, Vivian asks me to sit with them at lunch again. When the time comes around, I go back and forth in my mind, but ultimately decide to be nice to Vivian. Unlike last time, there's another person there.

I walk up to the table and Vivian turns right away. "Wrenley! Sit, sit."

I settle down and give everyone a small smile-not wanting to look too ambitious. The stranger, a girl with black hair, looks to Vivian then Eli then Elara. "You've got to be kidding me," she says, clearly upset.

"Don't look at us," Eli says.

Vivian matches the girl's stare and mouths something I can't make out. "Wrenley, this is Imogen."

"Hi," I say.

Imogen rolls her eyes and leaves the table. Feeling the anxiety swallow me whole, I turn to Vivian. "Don't worry about her," she says. "She's just in a bad mood. Oh, you know what, you should come with us after school. We're going to the private school just up the way to meet some other people-"

"No, Viv," Eli interrupts. "You're going too far. I'm sorry, Wrenley, you seem like a nice girl, but Viv is over-stepping a boundary."

"It's fine, really," I say before Vivian starts an argument. "I'm actually going somewhere with my mom."

My walk home feels longer today. My feet drag along the sidewalk as my body reaches a new level of exhaustion. I can't help but try to take a nap when I get back, but my mind won't shut off. At this point it's torture. I can't sleep, and when I do, I'm tormented with nightmares. My body can't take it anymore.

I lied. I have no plans with my Mom, and I can't help but wonder what Vivian's plans were. They know people that go to the private school, the school with the wolf crest. I'm sure they were meeting up and going somewhere together. Eli said she was crossing a boundary by inviting me-I wonder what boundary that is. Everyone here is much different than the people back home. Teens my age only cared about their looks and the opposite gender and social media, while teens here are wrapped up in other things, it seems. I shouldn't care what they're doing without me, but I'm no perfect person.

Night time comes again and I can't bare it. I double my dose of melatonin and take a nice bath before bed. Grandma sprays a lavender mist in my room after telling me that it helps her sleep. My mom gets me a glass of water and even tucks me in. "Just don't think about it, Wren. Don't think about anything, okay?" She says softly before shutting my light and leaving the door cracked open.

Don't think about anything? I didn't think my thoughts were the problem. The issue is my body-something is wrong with it.

After hours of restlessness, I spring from my bed and storm out the front door. My bare feet hate the cold ground but continue on toward the trees. The dark thing is in there. Maybe this is what it wants.

Rain sprinkles down as I step over tree roots and around rocks. The frigid air slips up my shirt and rubs its icy hands all over my skin. There's a cozy spot on the ground where moss has grown like a bed just for me. I lay down on it and shut my eyes-finally feeling at peace. As my body winds down and as my eyes are too heavy to open, someone lifts me up and carries me to dreamland. I grip at their warmth and bury myself in their essence.

I wake in my bed as the sun shines through the closed curtains. I stretch out like a cat and roll over. My alarm is set to ring in a few minutes. I slept through the night. Finally, I've slept-and my dream was hardly a nightmare at all.

When my Grandma sees me, she smiles.

The weekend is slow but my nights have been filled with the best nights of sleep I've ever had. The rest our things are delivered a few days early, so I help bring it all inside. Some stuff is stored in the garage, but I take what I need to my bedroom to unpack. All of my little nothings are organized around my room. My mom helps me carry in my desk-there's just enough room for it. I set up my desk lamp and my books are slid into the shelves. My computer is placed right in the center of the table, and I drop my bean bag chair in the corner of the room. It's finally starting to feel like my own space.

I fill my suitcases with summer clothes and push them under the bed, but feel something in the way. Pulling it back out, I lift the bed skirt and see an article of clothing. I reach under and grab it. Holding it up, the first thing my eyes notice is the wolf crest on the upper left. It's a shirt-part of the uniform for that private school. I smell it and smell it again.

It drops to the floor as my hands cover my face. Something isn't right. Why is it here?

Before leaving my bedroom, I hide it under my pillow, not willing to get rid of it.

At school on Monday, I sit with Vivian and her friends again. The conversation feels more regulated than usual as she asks about my interests and where I'm from. I don't hear much about her, though, and even less about her friends.

Instead of walking straight home, I walk up the street, past the drugstore, and to the private school. This is my attempt at sleuthing. I'm not sure how that shirt got under my bed, and I'm not sure what I'm going to figure out by being here, but there's no point in turning back now. Walking through the parking lot, I avoid students as they leave for the day. No one seems to notice me as they talk to one another in their polo shirts and navy sweaters. I sneak around the building and find a track surrounding a field along with tennis courts. So far, the only thing I've discovered is that this place is officially called Waindale Academy. It isn't anything groundbreaking.

On my way out, I catch a hint of something in the air-that smell. The one from the shirt. I wonder if they all smell like this.

As I walk by the diner, I notice Vivian going inside with Eli, Elara, and Imogen. They must be meeting with their private school friends again. No wonder the conversation was so structured today. Maybe Vivian got in trouble for inviting me.

The house is empty when I get home. Mom and Grandma must have left to get groceries as they mentioned this morning. I don't like being here alone-the eeriness of the woods lately has my mind wandering. Waindale isn't the same. It's changed since I was a child and I'm not sure why. There must be a difference between visiting this town and living in it. Things lurk in the darkness and the people aren't normal. Why does Vivian reach out to me then keep me behind a wall? Something is going on with her and her friends and those private-school students. I can't help but think it's drugs. Maybe they all meet up and go into the woods and do whatever drugs they do. It would explain why I'm not supposed to know.

I drop my school bag on my bed and lift up my pillow. The white polo shirt and its school crest is still there-the scent diffusing off of it. The inside of Waindale Academy might smell like this; a dark and woodsy scent that reminds me of mens cologne. I need to get inside that school. The only issue is how. Everyone wears the same thing, and I may be able to disguise myself with this shirt, but that's only half of the uniform. Looking at the tag, I learn that it's a mens large. That won't help my disguise, but tells me more about its owner. There's no reason Grandma would have this shirt, so someone must have left it here, someone who wears a men's large.

I swallow. Was some guy in my bedroom?

I catch Vivian at school the next day as she makes her way down the hall. She seems surprised to see me.

"Wrenley, hi, how are you?"

"I'm fine. I was just wondering about the private school. I found-"

Vivian stops me. "Sorry, really, but I wouldn't know. Find me at lunch, though. You know our table."

She turns and walks away, her head falling down as her eyes watch the floor.

I walk to the diner after school and sit in the same booth as last time. When the familiar woman comes by with a menu for me, I ask, "Um, is there a chance that you're hiring?"

Her eyebrows rise. "You looking for a job?"

I nod and she shrugs. "I can ask Paul. He's just in the back."

When I get home, I find my mom as she's going through boxed things in her bedroom. Before she can ask about school, I say, "I got a job."

"A job? Where?"

"At the diner across from the drugstore."

She sits down on her bed. "I mean, okay. I didn't know you wanted to get a job. It doesn't conflict with school, right?"

"No. They were very accommodating to my schedule. You know, weekends, after school some days, nothing excessive."

"Okay. And what will you be doing?"

I smile. "I'm a waitress-and before you say it, Laura's going to train me."

"Laura?" She questions.

"Laura is the waitress there. She said she's happy to have more help around since Pat left."

My mom nods and clasps her hands together. "It's alright with me, just remember that school's your priority, okay?"

Feeling more devious than I ever have, I promise to keep school as my number one. Many things will hopefully be uncovered through my new job-it seems the diner is somewhat of a town favorite. Between the private school students and Vivian and her friends, Waindale is about to have its secrets revealed.