Searching for Sawyer
Chapter One

The sun was high in the sky, lighting up the footpath and roads into the small town on the outskirts of Wisconsin, USA. The small town was bordered by trees and a massive lake, that shone a light blue in the mornings and a crystal-clear blue in the afternoons. The birds flew between trees, singing a melody only they understood.

A pristine, simple sign was placed at the start of the town's territory. It was free of mould, weather-damage and bird poop. It looked as if it was cleaned frequently, as if it were an important aspect of the town. It reflected who they were as people – if the sign was immaculate, so were the people.

In lame, cursive letters, the sign read 'Lakewood'.

There was a picture of a lake underneath it, looking as crystal-blue as it does in the summer time. It's beauty was envied among all others. The town was rich in people and land, and not many went poor in the town of Lakewood among many other things.

There were two schools in town, the richer side of town and the poorer side. It showed due to the lack of care the second school was given, not to mention the lack of funds. The school may not have been the greatest, but it sure held minimal character.

Lakewood School of Fine Arts was the most respected school in town, for it showed that people cared to look after the building's state every few years.

The school was not far from the lake, and definitely didn't obscure the view in any way. The teacher's lunch room's window held its own private view of the lake. Many teenagers from interstate would move there just to attend the school – it held such a reputation that was envied by many.

Today was the first day of school and nobody felt it harder than the new seniors.

"Malory, get up!"

The sound of her mother's voice woke her from her slumber, making her groggy and unaware of the time.

"It's time to go to school!"

Malory closed her eyes once more, attempting to tune out her mother's screechy voice.

"And, I don't care young lady, you're going because I pay enough for that bloody damn school," Matilda Keagan shouted from down the stairs, in the kitchen. Malory huffed in response, rolling over in her bed. She remembers their argument from last night as if it were only mere moments before. Her head was beginning to pound as she took deep breaths.

Her mother often acted as if she knew exactly what Malory was thinking before she would ever have to reply. She found it infuriating but also felt relieved that she didn't even have to speak to her mother if she didn't want to. They only spoke whenever they began their infamous weekly shouting matches. It would be heard from four doors down and yet neither had ever seemed to care.

Begrudgingly, she forced her lazy butt out of her warm and cosy bed.

Malory stomped over to her drawers, hoping each step would be one step closer to popping a vein in her beloved mother's head.

As if on cue, her mother shouted an incoherent word.

A smirk made it's way upon her lips in a sadistic manner. She enjoyed annoying her mother to no end. She knew her boundaries well, however, and never stepped two far out of line. Mothers could become beasts when angered just the right way – she would know, she'd transformed her mother into one once.

"Just one year," she murmured to herself as she picked out her regular clothes; black jeans and a black cardigan.

It was just one more year until she never had to see the doors to that wretched school ever again. Malory sneaked a look over at her calendar, frowning at the date. She was counting down the days until she would finally be free of all of that high school stuff.

The beauty of the thought seemed too surreal to Malory.

Lakewood School of Fine Arts had become Malory's newfound hell in a way. She couldn't wait to graduate, spread her wings, and leave this ridiculous town. She never wanted to look back. She hated small towns with a passion, they often made her feel claustrophobic and trapped.

Essentially, she really was trapped until graduation day.

A desire, an ambition, to be the best student in the entire school and yet, knowing that this entire year of her life was being planned for in advance. She hated the preppy teenagers who adored 'senior year' and all the ridiculous activities that came with it.

Malory wouldn't be caught dead participating in any of them.

As long as her GPA was perfect, she didn't give a crap about anybody else.

"Screw the legal child labour," she said to herself, rolling her eyes as she grabbed her backpack and made her way down the stairs.

Pessimism seemed to run in her family.

Slowly, Malory prepared herself for the comments her mother made daily about her clothing choice. 'Emo' was a funny word, that Matilda had learned one day when their neighbour had described Malory's choice of clothing on that one occasion.

It had somehow stuck and it wasn't a pleasant nickname at all. Matilda should've been impressed that her daughter dressed well and respectable.

She should've been happy that Malory Keagan was not a brainless slut.

However, Matilda Keagan was not happy at all.

Malory ran a nervous hand through her dark, brunette hair as she made her descend to the kitchen.

"Malory," came Matilda's snappish voice, "You better be ready," she said, pausing mid-shout. "Oh," she said, a lot quieter, "Here's your breakfast."

Matilda was stumbling on her words, causing Malory to roller her eyes discreetly. If she had gotten caught, she'd have been grounded for a month. Not that it mattered because Malory had nowhere else to go anyway.

The steaming hot food sat upon the counter top with the smoke travelling through the air. The smell of delicious food made its way to Mallory's senses, surprising her stomach with a hunger she never knew she had.

But as usual, she walked right past her mother as if she hadn't even talked at all.

There was a routine in the Keagan household; one always shouted and made breakfast for no reason, the other always ignored them and left the house as quick as possible. She had been doing it for as long as she could remember, and she wasn't about to stop anytime soon.

The walk to hell, in Malory's opinion, could be a lot slower.

The moment she saw the gates to Lakewood she wanted to turn around and never come back. Except she didn't. She swallowed and she took slow, hesitate steps towards her infinite doom.

She was a lot braver than she gave herself credit for.

'Senior year here I come,' she thought, grimly.

She picked up her pace as people began to stare. She hated their looks, but she hated their whispers more.

The hallway was the way it had been for years. Lockers lined the walls. Some of the doors were opened and people were standing in front of them. Books and papers littered the floor in a messy scatter of words. Laughter reached her ears making her want to put her earphones in to block out the sounds of the world around her. Happiness radiated around as people hugged and said their 'miss you' announcements.

Disgust was all Malory felt.

She didn't understand how people felt the need to be surrounded by many, being shouted at in all different directions. Malory hated the idea of popularity but really, she hated the idea of people who watched your every move. She would've felt as if she had many stalkers disguised as students of Lakewood.

Malory was content not having a single person beside her to document her life to her.

She did not need anybody, she learned that the hard way.

The only locker that mattered in the grand scheme of things, for her, was her own locker. It was pretty much deserted, just the way she liked it. Her headphones began blaring a tune she loved all too well. She was oblivious to the sudden commotion in the hallway.

Gasps filled the previously happy atmosphere, catching Malory's eye in the process. Whispers resounded around the narrow hallway, but all Malory could hear was her song, but she could see their lips move, in slow, calculated blows.

Malory ignored them all; it wasn't her business. Nothing was ever her business.

Curiosity got the better of her though because she noticed how every head was directed towards the entrance.

Somehow, she felt a need quaking inside of her bones, the curiosity to find out what all the fuss was about on the first day of school.

As she turned her head, she couldn't help her small, inaudible gasp that caused one headphone to spring loose from her left ear. The sound from the small bud was loud enough to catch some people's attention but not enough to hold them.

There was something more important standing in front of the doors than anything Malory Keagan could've ever done.

Shoulder-length, brown hair.

Dark, brown eyes that were cold and calculating.

An old, black band shirt.

Skinny, black jeans.

Black, low-top converse shoes.

A bad feeling rested in the pit of Malory's tummy.

There stands Sawyer Wright in all of his once blinding glory.