I couldn't get Mom before she went into her next conference. I had felt I needed her earlier but by that point I moved on. I was glad not to have to divulge what was making me so upset. I don't think I could have explained it, even if I was willing to tell her about it. It felt good to snuggle into my warm bed at my grandparents' house. It just felt like home no matter how shit the day was. I rolled to the middle of the full-size bed pulling the cotton sheets and quilt up to my neck. I laid on my back staring up at the patterns on the ceiling.

I could hear the dog from a street over. The owners left him tied out back sometimes. He'd bark all through the night as if he were calling out to someone far away. It never bothered me that much, other than wanting to go untie him and bring him in with me. He sounded so forlorn. His barks were distant, muted and more elongated, like moans. He cried out steadily all through the night, and I wondered who he was calling for. I felt sorry for him, but I also envied how vocal he was. He may have been lonely, but he had the guts to let the world know. I wish I could have given a voice to the way I felt.

The next morning, I woke to my grandparents scurrying about in the kitchen. I could smell sausage frying, and I heard my grandad talking about where the water lines would take him that day as he opened the fridge for the gallon jug of milk. There was a pause and then I heard my grandmother say, "What was that dern dog barking at last night?"

"The moon I guess." My granddad said with a level of certainty.

Is that all it was? I couldn't help but smile. Poor "Forlorn-ed" and me. Even if you did tell the world, there wasn't much they could do about it. I laughed to myself as I pushed out of bed. It was much colder out that day, almost freezing. Maybe the groundhog saw his shadow after all and we were in our "6 more weeks of winter phase." I didn't care though... it was time to shake things up and start living again. If "Forlorn-ed" could do enough about it to keep the whole neighborhood up while on a chain, so could I.

I ignored the temperature and went to my sock drawer to the specialty side where all of my tights were folded securely in one of mom's lingerie bags I had swiped, so they would remain snag free. I loved tights. They had been my favorite stocking stuffer since I was a little girl, and I had just gotten a bunch for Christmas, so they were there with me in my room at my grandparents'. If I had my way, I'd wear tights and a tee shirt everywhere I went. I found a black pair of opaques that were dark enough for the season, but the perfect texture to show off whatever good leg parts I had.

Tights were a texture thing. I did not own any thick ones that added an extra layer. My mother was an expert on hosiery, and if there's one thing I got proper from her with my short leg challenges, it was... the sole purpose of tights and pantyhose are to elongate and smooth. Anything past that is just a fashion mistake or a choice to be tortured for no reason. If you could allow yourself any expensive vice, it should be fine hosiery from the specialty store that may cost more than your outfit.

In terms of the outfit, well I had my design on a skirt and top my grandmother had bought for me at Dillard's last Valentines Day on an after Christmas sale. There was only one size left and it was the one smaller than I wore at the time. Like my mother, I was optimistic when it came to the right outfit. "If it was going to look better on you thinner, then buy that size and lose into it." I'd hoped I'd trimmed up a bit since last year as I pulled the tags off the collar.

The top was a fitted black knit button down with a black, grey, and maroon plaid collar as well as cuffs to match it on the wrist. The plaid matched the schoolgirl skirt that was A-line and pleated on one side where it buttoned. It was an outfit to say the least and gave off a total Alicia Silverstone- Clueless vibe.

Sooo... it fit for sure, but the skirt was also a nice gauge that I'd grown an inch or two, as it was a bit shorter than I remembered. Let me just say it was pushing the "ruler rule" of the school's dress code, but I didn't think anyone would notice with the right tights.

I slid into the black penny loafer heels I got for Christmas and, Dang! Talk about elongating. This worked out far better than I anticipated. It felt good to want to walk the halls of Pure Pines for the first time in a while. Devin seemed to have backed off a bit and we hadn't purposefully put ourselves in each other's paths to speak of recently.

All I wanted to do was get started on debate and get Reagan and I to place at our first meet. I had been worried about her a bit. Since the holiday break she had become a little withdrawn and not her usual self. She did that sometimes, and it usually meant there were issues at home. Her parents applied a lot of pressure to be the best, which brought out the worst in Reagan. I hoped she wasn't under the spell of that Kane guy from Prairie. He was always a bad decision.

I had no right to ask her about it given my recent circumstances I openly withheld. I guess I hoped this outfit and me attempting to join the land of the living would remind her that we needed to make plans to go out and have a little fun!

Debate had been going better than expected. Reagan and I had prepped our affirmative case over a few all-nighters during the break, and for the most part, I hadn't had to deal with Adrian. We chose a unique "squirrel case" and Mrs. Rickie thought it would be best to have us work separate from the boys in the initial prepping, so that we could spar with them and have our case be a total surprise. Then they could have our brief after to study up on it before the first meet, as we would not be competing against each other, but someone else they competed with could have this same case. I was relieved I didn't have to work with him every day past small talk in the hallway.

That cold Monday morning when I walked through the double doors, I got the reaction I hoped for. Several heads turned away from the girls in sweatpants and frumpy jackets who had decided to bum it in the cold that day. Hey, I needed the win, and my friend did too. I found Reagan and Lynn right away, which was a new thing this semester as last Fall they both had an early morning lab that kept us from meeting up just before first period.

"Ow ow ow!" Lynn shouted and tried to whistle.

"Wow. Who finally pulled your string?" Reagan added. I reached out and gave her a massive bear hug and squeezed her ribs until it was painful... Something she would totally do to me.

"You did! We need to go out on the town. We've been acting like somebody died since before Christmas. We will only be seventeen once. I for one am sick of you losers moping around. It's really starting to cramp my style."

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit." Lynn interjected.

"Oh, somebody's reading Oscar Wilde in AP English." I retorted.

"What did you pick?" Lynn started peeking through my backpack.

"Do you have to ask her?" Reagan dug deeper into my backpack with her eyes closed and pulled out a paperback. She continued with her eyes closed to announce the title.

"The Scarlet Letter. Lynn, how could you not know she'd pick the most tortured unrequited love story known to man. It's not even a love story. It's a massive sadomasochistic mistake that only highlights gender inequality and women being punished above all."

"Well, I learned from the best." That felt a little too real at the moment as Reagan turned from us to grab the books she needed from her locker. I didn't mean it about she and Kane, but even Lynn looked at me funny on that one.

"Seriously though, we haven't been out in ages, let's go!" I was oddly loud and encouraging, so obviously trying to  fire them up.

"Go where?" The only familiar male's voice that could destroy my excitement instantly butted in as Adrian appeared in front of me, throwing his arms over the backs of Lynn and Reagan's shoulders. I quickly looked to Lynn to save me and tried not to be too obvious about not wanting to make eye contact. I think he was grateful for that as I could see him looking me up and down out of the corner of my eye. It was so obvious, Lynn had to clear her throat dramatically to get his attention before answering.

"We were just saying we haven't been out in a while, and we should go. July and Reagan have been working so hard on their case, maybe some much needed fun is in store."

"Count me in." Adrian demanded. I wanted to flee before any real plans were solidified. Thank God the bell rang and saved me.

"See you guys." I took the opportunity to relay that to the group and keep up the ruse. It wasn't difficult to be around Adrian. I did this for my friends' sake.

I made my way into theater arts and there was a sub. Half the class hadn't shown up, so I guess they had gotten the memo. I sat at my usual desk as the substitute handed out some BS theater history worksheet to occupy our hour. This was a waste of a great outfit. I looked down at the sheet that could be finished in three minutes and pulled out my trig work instead. I could use all the time in the world on that one and still not be up to par.

I pulled a pencil sharpener out of my backpack and began sharpening. There was an empty seat in between me and Darrell Neely. He was what the faculty called a "dump kid" behind their back. Which usually meant they were lower income or just didn't care about any particular subject, much less our elevated curriculum. Basically, they didn't drink the Pure Pines Kool-Aid, wear the right clothes, or got caught smoking in the boys' room one too many times to be of interest, so they "dumped" them in whatever class was available.

I didn't even know how old Darrell was with the rumor that he had been held back so many times. He was quiet and always got in trouble for drawing in every class he was in. He was also most likely a genius, and only dangerous because he had nothing better to do and nothing to lose. He slid over into the empty desk next to me and asked if he could borrow my sharpener. I passed it to him and watched fascinated as he sharpened one of his drawing pencils.

It had a different number etched on the front of it from a standard number two. He let all the shavings fall on the blank piece of notebook paper and smeared them all around it letting the led smudge and darken the page. Then he flipped that sheet over for another time and handed me my sharpener back. He drew a stick figure, on the new sheet of notebook paper, like the game hangman I guess, but pieces of the man were left unfinished and there were no spaces for letters to form a word.

He finished an arm sort of angled up to the man's face and slid me his pencil and paper. I wasn't sure what he wanted me to do so on a whim I drew a book in the man's hand. Darrell raised a half smile, and I slid it back to him. He drew a cigarette coming out of the stick figure's mouth, and smoke flowing past the book our stick figure's face that was now facing and engaged in. It was fascinating how the circle turned to a head facing profile toward the book the moment he drew the cigarette at just the right angle.

Darrell added two stick legs and passed the drawing and pencil back to me one last time.

"I hope everyone is completing their worksheet. I must pick those up at the end of class." The sub eyeballed the two of us. I looked down at our little fellow on the paper and drew the first thing I could think of... A ball and chain linked around his ankle. I slid it back to Darrell and it was met with a full smile. He ripped the page out of his notebook and gave it to me.

"Thanks for the sharpen." Darrell whispered to me as he nodded and moved back to his original desk one seat over. I stared down at the man smoking while reading with a ball and chain around his ankle. It might have been the coolest drawing I'd seen if I had said so myself. I slid it in the back of my notebook and glanced back as Darrall opened his to the page darkened by the pencil shaving lead and began to draw something else. His theater worksheet had fallen to the floor incomplete, and I couldn't help but look over my shoulder periodically wondering what he was drawing next or if I'd get to see it.