Except they aren't... Things for me never stay good... Not for long. It's like I'm cursed or something.

Despite the pleasant conversation I had with Ada just prior, the whole night is a hell of its own. It's tossing and turning... Sweating... Panicking about the first day of school in the morning. ...It's me getting so worked up I make myself sick... I think I threw up about four times over the course of the night... But unfortunately, with all four of those instances of sickness being caused by rolling panic attacks all throughout the night, it would mean that my parents wouldn't even consider keeping me home from school.

I did briefly think about just lying and saying that my throat felt sore and my head hurt... That I felt cold, but yet still sweaty... That I felt dizzy and achy, but ultimately, I didn't. I wish I had though.

I knew that even if I faked an illness today, I'd still be back there tomorrow, when my parents realized I had no fever—--and something about just simply waiting for the next day to go was far, far worse.

I just wish there was a whole nother summer break between the next school year—--that the last one had just concluded... Because truthfully, as hell as it might be, I could handle my parents... Handle my brother—-because I had something there to support me anyways... Mars; but unfortunately for me, I can't exactly just bring my dog to school... Well, not unless he was a service animal and my parents refused to ever let him be so.

Once my alarm clock goes off in the morning, I've gotten almost no actual sleep—-a little bit of faint dozing here and there, sporadically throughout the night, but no real deep sleep. My mind feels hazy as I click the button on the clock to get it to shut up and stop wailing.

I slowly sit up, rubbing my eyes—-my sense of panic and dread slowly creeping back into my heart and mind. I try to keep myself calm by whispering things like, "you've got this..." and "it's just a few hours, you'll be fine". I get up and quickly fish out some clothes from my cracked dresser, a single door of it, completely gone—--my parents had never bothered to replace it... Even after Marek had been jumping around my room and launching himself across it, smashing into it, years ago.

I sigh, pulling out what I have—-black jeans, black socks, a black t-shirt, etc. My whole wardrobe is... dark to say the least. It's lacking color—-being fully made up of blacks and greys. I hadn't exactly worn color since fifth grade—-of which I was told that wearing any color "made me look like an ugly freak show clown". But even now, solely wearing the colors I still do have doesn't help me out much. They make me look totally washed out... They make me look like a corpse... A hideous, hideous corpse.

I bite my tongue and stand back up from my previous kneeling position and throw on the clothes before fixing my hair. I grab my back, throwing in spare pencils and notebooks before flicking my bedroom light off and heading downstairs.

Mars sees me going down and yaps happily, wagging his tail.

I try to smoke at him, despite my growing panic at the day's coming events. "Hi, bud." I gag.

Mars cocks his head to the side just a little, curiously as his wagging tail comes to a slow and eventually... a halt. He barks loudly.

"I'm good, Mars... Really," I insist as he approaches.

Mars plops himself right in front of me, blocking my path and loudly barking after sniffling me, seemingly somewhat concerned... All he knew was something was 'off' with his human.

"I'm fine, Mars," I tell him. "I appreciate the concern. I'm okay." I gently nudge him aside and continue down the stairs, hearing his skittering little paws behind me.

I give a glance to Marek, who's eating some cereal and an orange.

I sigh.

Despite my growing hunger, I don't think I can manage to eat a single thing without feeling sick.

So, instead of getting breakfast, I just slip my hood on and head out into the rain...

Fuck, I think the moment I step outside. It's fucking pouring? Right now? Just my damn luck, huh? The universe hates me so much.

Mars is pawing at the door, jumping up to the glass portion near the top half of it, scratching and barking, urging me to come back in and play with him.

I give a glance to him and say, "I'll play when I get back, bud."

Unlike Marek, I don't have the luxury of being driven to school by my parents—-they solely take him... And when Ada had still been in school, she and I just took the bus... Ah... The horrible bus.

I wish I could just take the old truck in the garage to school, but I do know that if I ever attempt it, my father will have my head on a plaque mantled above the fireplace for that.

I swallow as the rain continues to pour down, starting to soak my hood. I step back onto the covered porch for just a brief moment to think and fully weigh my options. I could take the bus... And be tormented the moment it finally arrives and I step on it... Or, I could walk... Through the rain... And risk pneumonia.

To me, it's an obvious no-brainer.

"Rain it is," I mutter to myself, waving to the door, at Mars as I head off the porch again and down the sidewalk, off in the direction of my school.

The rain soaks my jacket and I have to do practically everything I can to avoid stepping in puddles made by the natural dips in the destroyed, old, cracked sidewalks and to avoid being splashed by passing cars.

Other students from my school... Ones that are older than me—-seniors—--drive pass, screaming, barking, and laughing at me. Some even shout insults and other derogatory terms at me—-main ones starting with 'R' and 'F'.

I try to brush it off, ignoring them... And for the most part, I can... That is until one of them—-Samson Bernard—--drives his pickup truck somewhat onto the actual sidewalk and guns it, shouting the 'F' term from earlier and saying, "You better run! I'm gonna kill you!"

Instantly, instincts kick in from years of torment from my peers—--my body picks 'flight' and I tear down the sidewalk, not even caring that my shoes are starting to get soaked. I rationalize the thought by telling myself, they're just shoes... Wet shoes vs being alive? That's a no-brainer.

But even then, I debate the thought a little... Being alive is one thing... But existing in this town? This state? That's something else... Something bitter... Something I hate more than anything else in the world.

Still, I run—-I run until my muscles ache and scream... I run until my heart bursts... I run until my lungs and throat catch fire. I can still hear the cracking and popping sound of Samson's truck crushing the old sidewalk beneath it, into tiny cracked pieces.

The moment I hear the sound of his truck pick up speed though, I toss myself to the side and hit a porch.

Samson laughs. "See you later, dumbfuck!" He shouts as his car speeds off.

He tried to kill me.

Samson Bernard actually tried to kill me.

Fuck.

I know logically, had this happened to almost anyone else, school would be the least of their concerns. They'd go straight to the other side of town and to the police station and file a report... But, with my luck and how the whole world feels about me, I know that's not an option. I know none of them will ever believe me.

I groan, getting up and trying to head back to school. I wince and look down, seeing my pants torn just above the ankle on the outside of the leg. There's blood.

I take time to look at the wound—-it's sort of deep... And it hurts like hell. I look to the railing of the porch and then to just right outside of it... I must've cut myself on one of the metal gardening stakes when I was trying to avoid Samson's truck.

I groan once more and head down the stairs. Despite the pain, I know I only have a limited amount of time to get to school and figure out this year's schedule. Once on the old sidewalk again, I take off through the rain, running—-somewhat hobbling as well. It burns, but still I carry on.

I make it to school and try to open the door.

Nothing.

"Dammit! Don't do this to me right now!" I hiss.

I try to open it again.

Still nothing.

"I cannot be late on the first day... My parents will kill me!" I know full well that there's a chance the auto-locking mechanism might've kicked on.

Heart still roaring in my ears, pumping leftover adrenaline through my body from earlier, I yank as hard as I can, falling backwards and the door swings open... But unfortunately, due to the wind and the sheer weight of the heavy, clunky, metal door, it starts to close, rapidly.

Panicking, I stick my leg in the door to stop it. The injured one. "Motherfu—-" I almost say out loud due to the impact.

I exhale, sharply, leaning forward from my sitting position to weasel the door open more and stand up before rushing inside. Once inside, I dust myself off and take off my hood—--my clothes are almost completely soaked from the rain, but luckily, it's not really all that visible... One of the perks of an all black wardrobe it seems.

I make sure to wipe the bottoms of my shoes on the carpet that's initially in the first set of double doors before heading into the actual school, keeping my head hanging low and already starting to hear whispers.

I start towards my new locker, trying to just remain as silent as possible. I'd rather be unseen than be heard... I'd rather be anonymous than known.

I look up, spotting the row that has my locker when I hear from behind me, "Krawiec! Hey!"

I instantly freeze the moment I hear that voice. It belongs to my ex... Savannah Howard.

Last year, in sophomore year, I was beyond bewildered when a girl like Savannah had ever paid me any attention... In hindsight, I probably should've known something was off because that's something that would never genuinely happen, but I just let my excitement overwhelm my sense of critical thinking.

She immediately asked me out and I said yes... About two days into the relationship, I caught her kissing one of the football players near the restrooms—--Randall Thompson.

The moment I actually confronted Savannah about it, she just laughed at me and confessed she didn't like me... Not one bit. She had done it as a dare from one of her friends—-she said she'd be paid a nickel for doing so.

A nickel. A damn nickel.

I was only worth five fucking cents to them... And who knows, maybe the others thought I was worth less than that.

I sigh, turning around to face the girl who broke my heart the previous school year. "What do you want, Savannah?"

"Uh... To talk?" She says, like her intentions are plain and clear. "Come on." She beckons me toward her locker where I can see her current boyfriend, Randall, hanging out not too far away.

"I don't trust that," I reply.

Savannah rolls her eyes. "Oh come on, Jupiter. Stop being such a big baby. Come on."

I huff, clutching my backpack straps tightly, approaching her. "What do you want?" I repeat again, annoyed.

"To talk. I already told you that," Savannah snaps. "Come on."

"I'm already here. Talk," I tell her.

Savannah huffs. "I mean, come closer, dumbass. I don't bite." She fidgets with the dial on her locker, twisting it.

Yes, you do, my mind thinks after her comment. Still, I humor her and step closer, sighing. "Happy?"

"Very." Savannah grins and flicks her locker door out as fast as she can, hitting me full force in the face.

"What the hell!" I shout, feeling like fire is spreading rapidly across my face. It takes everything in my power to peel my eyes open again—-they feel like they're burning from the impact.

"Oh!" Savannah fakes a tone of pity, placing a hand on her chest. "Sorry! I didn't mean for it to hit your hideous face, Jupiter."

Randall snickers, approaching us and slinging an arm around his girlfriend, pulling her close. "No, no, Savv. Don't apologize. ...Not like that impact could've made him uglier than he already was—-somethin' like that's not possible."

All I manage in response is a growl and I turn away, heading off toward my locker.

"Guess that mutt doesn't have balls," Randall laughs, making Savannah laugh as well.

I put my stuff in my locker, slamming it shut as hard as possible, taking my books to my first period class—-Algebra 2. I take my seat near the class and slam my book down.

Kids snicker about what I just did, proceeding to mock it before pointing to my face.

Great, I mentally groan. What Savannah did must've left a mark.

The teacher does roll call, by last names A through Z. He gets to the Ks and I start to panic internally. The moment he says my name, people will acknowledge me... And the last thing I need is for people to acknowledge me more than they already have.

"Juniper Krawiec?" He begins and the whole class starts laughing.

I feel my face run red with embarrassment. Dammit, my mind curses to itself. Not only did he pronounce my last name the way it looks on paper, but he said the wrong first name. I clear my throat. "It's Jupiter, actually?"

"What is that young lady?" He begins, looking down at his paper. "My ears aren't what they used to be." He looks up to me, looking me over and says, "My bad, young man."

"It's Jupiter, sir," I tell him, louder this time. "And my last name is pronounced Kra-vyehts."

"Krawiec," he repeats, testing the correct pronunciation out on his tongue. "Never heard of it."

"It's... Polish," I say in response.

My math teacher then asks, without thinking, "What're you doing in America then?"

My breath catches in my throat. I want to mutter, "Excuse me?", but I can't. I can't get a single sound out.

"...Let me just write that all down in my notes," he says, going on like nothing ever happened.

I sink in my seat, hearing kids snickering to each other, repeating one of the four following things: "young lady", "it's Polish", "Jupiter, sir", and "my last name is pronounced Kra-vyehts".

I sink in my seat more and anxiously bounce my leg, trying to tune my peers out—-but I can't... I really can't.

I'm only able to tolerate it until I hear the teacher call the name, "Catalina Méndez". 

I get up as kids continue to snicker and whisper and run out to the restroom without getting permission to leave class prior.

I stop in front of a mirror and whimper. My face is starting to bruise... Around the eye... Across the nose... And there's red marks on my face made by the slits in the locker door. Dammit.

I continue to stare in the mirror in silence as tears prickle in the corner of my eyes.

I don't like what stares back... Not one bit.