Anywhere But Here

Anywhere But Here

JL Paul

Smashwords Edition Copyright 2011 JL Paul

All rights reserved worldwide.

No part of this ebook may be copied or sold or distributed without prior written permission -- if you have this file (or a printout) and didn't pay for it, you are depriving the author and publisher of their rightful royalties.

All characters in this book are entirely imaginary and any resemblance to persons living or dead or actual events is purely coincidental.

Republished 2013

Prologue

A friend once told me that she was jealous she was of my family – that she hated being an only child to a couple of workaholics. She raved how I had cool parents who took time out of their busy schedules to do things with their kids. I had an awesome older brother who wasn’t embarrassed to be seen in public with me and a sweet little sister who idolized me. She said I was so lucky and she’d do anything to trade places with me.

At that time, I totally agreed with her.

Maybe, under different circumstances, I still would. Maybe if my cool parents weren’t wallowing in guilt and misery, almost afraid to leave the house. Maybe if my awesome big brother came around like he used to instead of hiding at college. And maybe if my adorable baby sister, who at one time had adored me, hadn’t gone missing, well then yeah, my life would be cake.

Maybe.

Chapter One

Following Aunt Franki up the walk, I stepped onto the porch, taking a second to admire the neat, two-story house. It wasn’t hard to tell, even for someone like me who didn’t usually notice these sorts of things, that the house had been painted recently - probably before the holiday season.

The cute little window boxes were full of snow but I was certain Aunt Franki would have them bursting with colorful blooms as soon as Mother’s Day rolled around and the area was safe from frost.

Come on in, Aunt Franki invited as she shoved the hunter green door open, stomping snow off her boots before stepping inside.

I carefully wiped the muck from my own boots, not wanting to track mud on the gleaming hardwood floors, and turned toward a staircase just to the right of the door.

This way, Rena, Aunt Franki directed, bypassing the stairs, headed for the kitchen, instead.

With a shrug, I trailed behind her, half listening to her explanation.

I thought you’d like to have the basement bedroom since it’s a little more private. There's a bathroom down there, too. It’s small but it works. But if you think you’ll be more comfortable in the spare room, then we can move the computer and all the other stuff out of there, she called over her shoulder as she stopped at a door to put the boxes she’d been carrying down. She opened the door and flipped a switch, bathing the stairs in light. I had the neighborhood boys come over to move some things around a bit. They’re good guys – they’ve offered to cut the grass for me all summer and help with shoveling snow.

Behind her back, I rolled my eyes. It sounded to me like Aunt Franki was trying to force some friends down my throat. I had no desire to make friends.

The finished basement was cool and my interest perked. I hadn’t had the opportunity to see Aunt Franki’s house since she’d moved in this past September so everything was new to me.

She led me through a large family room, complete with fireplace, low ceilings, and a small television, to a solid oak door before dropping her boxes again with a smile. She turned the door knob and thrust it open grandly, like revealing a priceless work of art, and hit a light switch.

Stepping inside, I gasped. The stone walls had been painted a bright shade of orange while an off white carpet covered the floor. The room wasn’t huge, but it was nothing to balk at, either.

She’d furnished it with a double bed (tucked under a high window), two dressers, a bookcase, and a desk. I stood in the middle of the room and turned slow circles, the first genuine smile I’d been able to muster in months slipping on my face.

This is cool, I said as I admired the white blades of the ceiling fan. Really cool.

I remembered orange was your favorite color, Aunt Franki explained. This used to be a storage room but it was the biggest room down here, except for the family room, and I thought you’d love it.

I do, thanks, I said as I continued to take in my new room. The bedspread and the matching curtains were a brown and orange striped pattern. Mom would never allow me a room like this in her pristine home.

Let’s get the rest of your things so you can get settled, Aunt Franki said as I snapped back to attention. Then I’ll order pizza and we can watch reality shows tonight.

We tromped through the slushy driveway to retrieve the rest of my stuff from the back seat of my Honda, the cold air nipping at our noses. As I was loading up, grabbing the last of my meager belongings, a loud voice startled me, nearly causing me to drop everything into a huge puddle I’d been trying to skirt.

Yo, Franki!

Hey, fellas, Aunt Franki responded. How was your weekend?

Great. The reply came from a face I couldn’t see due to the boxes blocking my vision. How did the room go over?

A smashing success, just like I said.

Here, let me help you, the first, bellowing voice said. A pair of large hands snatched two boxes off the stack I’d been balancing.

I don’t need help, I snapped as the face finally came into view. His expression froze for a brief second before the green eyes brightened and an amused smirk prodded the lips. I rolled my eyes and brushed past him, toward the house, without a thank you.

Thanks, boys, Aunt Franki murmured behind me in a feeble voice. I’d embarrassed her even after all she’d done for me. A bit of guilt ate at me but that little anger-demon perching on my shoulder – the one that was now my constant companion - chased it away.

I hurried to my new room and set down the boxes. I wished I could run and hide from the others but there wasn’t anywhere really to escape. I didn’t want to endure introductions and explanations and the hope that I’d make a new friend on Aunt Franki’s face. I just wanted to unpack, play nice with Aunt Franki for a while before crawling into my new bed. I was supposed to start school in the morning and that was going to take a ton of mental preparation.

With nowhere to hide, I plopped on the bed, sighing, as I waited, listening for the voices. I wondered what was taking so long or if perhaps Aunt Franki was filling them in on my pathetic life and the sad, tragic reasons why I’d come to live with her. I honestly didn’t think she would. She had promised me that I could start over fresh – that no one would know me or my family in this minute map dot of a town. She’d only inherited the house over the summer and had spent weeks refinishing the floors and painting the walls, intent on selling it. She'd fallen in love with it just as she had the little town, and decided to keep it, thinking she’d use it on the weekends when she did art shows at the art gallery near the lake. When I’d gotten myself in a bit of trouble, Aunt Franki had talked my parents into letting me live with her for the remainder of the school year - telling them that I could use a change of scenery.

I sighed again, a little heavier. I was going to have to make some sort of effort. I was going to have to show my appreciation better. Aunt Franki had sold her Chicago condo to move to this tiny tourist town in southern Michigan permanently in order to give me some semblance of normal life. She had high hopes that I'd be allowed to finish my last year of high school as normally as possible.

Just set the boxes down here, boys, Aunt Franki instructed. The boys did as she asked and piled the boxes right outside the door. Give Rena a little room to work.

The orange is pretty rad, huh? my ‘helper’ asked - the taller one with the black beanie covering his head.

Did people actually say ‘rad’ around here? Especially teenagers?

Sure, I muttered as I got to my feet, cramming my hands into my pockets. I gave the boys a quick once over and deemed them as skater types before turning my back on them to rifle through a box.

Rena, Aunt Franki said, forcing me to face her again. This is Damon and Shane. They live in the neighborhood.

Damon, the ‘rad’ boy, smirked and nodded at me. I returned the gesture.

Hey, thanks for the help, guys, Aunt Franki said. I’m going to give Rena a little time to get settled. I’m sure you’ll get the chance to get to know her soon as she’s starting school tomorrow.

No problem, Franki, Damon said. I glanced over my shoulder in time for his salute, rolled my eyes, and returned to my task. I heard him and his friend thunder up the stairs like a herd of wild elephants. Once peace in the basement was restored, I relaxed.

Nice boys, Aunt Franki said as she pushed a box into the room with the toe of her boot. I kept my promise, Rena – I didn’t tell them anything. No one around here knows a thing.

Okay, I mumbled as I grabbed a handful of books to arrange on the bookshelf beside the door. Thanks. Um, sorry – I didn’t mean to be rude or anything.

Don’t apologize to me, Aunt Franki said in a soft voice. I told you that I’d give you some time and space. I know what you’ve gone through. That’s why I wanted you here.

I nodded as tears welled up in my eyes. I swallowed extra hard to stifle them, forcing my concentration on the book spines as I shoved them on the shelves.

But, honey, you need to let people in - don’t shut out the world. People do care, believe it or not. Her pleading voice did little to melt the ice around my heart. I didn’t want to care about people and I didn’t want people to care about me.

Yep, I said, my lips clamped firmly shut. I wasn’t ready to talk, not even to Aunt Franki.

If you need my help, give me a holler, Aunt Franki said. I just nodded.

Once I heard the door at the top of the stairs close, I sank to the bed, fighting the urge to curl into a ball and squeeze my eyes shut. How easy it would be, really. Shut out the light, lock the door, and disappear into a haze of nothingness. The little bottle of vodka I had stashed with my underwear would help. Or the peppermint schnapps.

I shook my head furiously as I pushed off the bed and returned to the bookshelf. I’d promised myself I’d start fresh here. I promised I wouldn’t mess up again. I’d always loved Aunt Franki – she was the fun aunt who always had gum and listened to good music. She’d rescued me from the House Where Gloom Lived and I could never express my gratitude.

But I wasn’t grateful to anyone else, nor did I need them. I was here to finish school in a peaceful house where no one jumped down your throat if you picked up the cordless phone and no one looked disappointed when they realized it was only you walking through the door.

Pushing the dreary thoughts from my head, I got to work on my room. I managed to empty the boxes on my own – filling the dressers and shoving pens and paper in the desk drawers. When I finally reached the last box – the one marked ‘Fragile’ - my heart began to pound in my chest. I slid to the floor and placed the box in my lap. I didn’t want to look inside even though I was quite aware of the contents.

Don’t be such a pathetic loser, I chanted and plunged my arm inside. I withdrew a BoyzTown CD and grinned, admiring the frozen faces on the cover. I set it aside and continued my plundering. The next item I removed was a pink pencil with purple peace signs, complete with teeth marks and a worn eraser. That joined the CD next to my leg.

The final item in my treasure trove was a tiny, china ballet dancer frozen forever in a pirouette on top of a round stage that turned slowly to a tinkling tune. Her fluffy pink tutu was slightly dusty but the smile on her face was one of pure joy. Standing on my toes, I carefully placed the ballerina on the top shelf of the bookcase – the empty shelf. She deserved her own space.

The CD and the pencil I shoved under my pillow then gathered the empty boxes and stacked them neatly outside my bedroom door. I brushed the back of my jeans off and glanced at my watch. It had only taken me an hour and a half to unpack – what did that say about my life?

It didn’t matter, really. I still had plenty of clothes, CDs, and other things back home, but I didn’t want or need them here. That life no longer appealed to me - the life where the most important things in the world were having the latest fashions and the coolest music. I’d almost left my cell phone back there, too, but thought Aunt Franki might like for me to have it here. I knew all too well how panicky adults got if they didn’t know where kids were and couldn’t get a hold of them.

I hobbled up the stairs to see if Aunt Franki had ordered that pizza yet. I wanted to eat, shower, and relax for the rest of the evening before starting a new life in the morning.

Chapter Two

Driving to Dunewood High School the next morning, my mind wandered back to my old school. I wondered if any of my friends or acquaintances would notice I was no longer there. I seriously doubted it as I hadn’t made much of an effort to renew friendships when school had started last August. Nor had I uttered a single word either in person or online of my big move that would happen before the holiday break ended.

Today was the first day back for both schools and I was determined to start with a fresh, clean slate. My less than wonderful grades from last term wouldn’t matter here – at least in my eyes. I was a decent student – I could pull off the honor roll – I just hadn’t had the desire this year.

Maybe that would change once I stepped inside the hallowed halls of Dunewood High. Maybe the small school and friendly people would change my mind and my attitude. Maybe they’d welcome me with open arms and heal my aching heart. Maybe they’d chase away the anger-demon that had perched on my shoulder 24/7 since July.

"And maybe I am a pathetic loser," I snorted as I yanked my Honda to the back of the glistening building in order to find a place to park.

I watched the laughing students cross the parking lot in packs and pairs as a twitter began in my heart. I wanted to blame Jared for my being here – wanted to really blame him – but it had ultimately been my decision. Jared had just nudged me a bit.

As I got out of my car and slung my backpack over my shoulder, I glanced at the building, grateful that there weren’t any reminders that Christmas had come and gone. I didn’t want to drudge up dreadful memories of the farce of a family gathering that had taken place in the House Where Gloom Lived.

I tugged the collar of my heavy winter coat up to my chin, not only protecting my skin from the biting wind but attempting to hide from the curious faces that suddenly noticed I didn’t belong.

Quickening my pace, I yanked open the door, immediately noticing the signs pointing to the office. I followed them, ignoring the joyous shouts of friends reunited after a long, two week vacation and pushed through a group of jock-looking guys crowding the mouth of the hall.

"Excuse us, sweetheart," a tall, curly-haired boy said with a smirk and a lifted brow.

No problem, I replied as I stalked toward the brightly lit office. I didn’t want to flirt and I sure didn’t want to be flirted with.

Whoa, Curly-Haired Dude’s friend said with a chortle. Watch out for that one – she’s a tiger.

Curly-Haired Dude grunted and I heard his caustic remark before the office door closed behind me. More like a canine – a female canine if you know what I mean.

I smiled in smug satisfaction.

Can I help you, dear? the aging receptionist asked as she shoved a pencil behind her ear, causing three others to tumble down her back. Are you new?

Rena Hamilton, I replied. My aunt registered me already.

Of course, she said as she shuffled through a stack of papers on her cluttered desk. She retrieved the pencil from behind her ear and tossed it carelessly aside as she finally located a stapled set of papers. Here you go. Here’s your schedule and a map and some other information. Now, if you need someone to show you around, I can get a Student Council member…

That won’t be necessary, I butted in quickly. I can figure it out. The last thing I needed was some nerd trying to be my friend while showing me around the school. I wasn’t entirely stupid – I could read a map.

Well, if you have any problems, come see me, she said with an encouraging smile.

Sure, thanks, I muttered, eyes on my schedule. It was basically the same as home: Creative Writing, US History, Calculus, American Lit, Chem II, Spanish, and Study Hall. I’d already met my other credit requirements back home – even though I don’t know how I’d managed my first grading period. I hardly remembered it.

Your locker number and combination is on the top of your schedule. Since you’re a senior, your locker is located on the first floor. Would you like me to help you find it?

I can manage, I said, uttering the same words I’d muttered faithfully at least three times a day for the past five and a half months. Um, better go now.

I quickly located my locker and spun the combination lock before carefully landing on each number.  When it didn't open on the first try, I kicked the bottom of the door and, ignoring the startled looks and the snickering behind me, tried again.  When the handle finally gave, I ripped the door open so I could deposit my coat.  The anger-demon decided to stick around to check out the school and who was I to argue?

I consulted my schedule, groaning when I realized that I had Calculus first.  I should have opted out of math at the beginning of the year - I wasn't hell bent on attending college anyway.

Dude, look - it's Franki's niece of the orange room, called a voice I recognized as 'Rad' Boy – I couldn’t remember his name. With a wince, I tried to desperately blend in with the walls but to no avail.  Hang on.

I sighed while the anger-demon on my shoulder jumped up and down in glee.  I didn't turn to face ‘Rad’ Boy or give him an encouraging smile - just stood there and allowed him to catch up with me.

Hey, how's your first day? he asked.

I craned my neck to glance at him – I hadn’t paid much attention to his height when I’d first met him - and noticed the merriment in his eyes.  Seeing as it's just started, I don't really know yet.  How about you ask me when the day is over?

Whoa, someone's got a chip on their shoulder, 'Rad' Boy's companion chortled.  I rolled my eyes.  Do you suppose it's PMS or something equally gross?

Spinning on my heel, I jabbed a finger in his face – it was a tad easier since he wasn’t quite as tall and skinny as ‘Rad’ Boy.  Just because a girl is in a bad mood doesn't necessarily mean she's on her period, got it skater boy?

He held up his hands and backed away.  Gotcha.

Listen, 'Rad' Boy said, stepping between me and his companion.  We're just trying to make nice with you - you know, like friends.

I don't need any friends, I grumbled, narrowing my eyes.  Not at all.

So you say now, he said, seriousness flickering through his eyes.  He was kind of cute in that skater-boy-screw-society way with shoulder length dirty blond hair and captivating green eyes. Even though he was tall and lanky he had a slight build, unlike his companion who was a head shorter and a little meatier. We like Franki - she's cool and since you're related we like you, too, even if you are rude.  I'm Damon and he's Shane.  If you need something, give us a holler.  Giving me a final salute, he strolled casually down the hall.

I watched them, a little perplexed, and fought a smile while the anger-demon fumed at not being able to control the situation.  I shrugged, nearly knocking him loose, and began searching for my first hour classroom.

Many heads turned as I approached the teacher's desk, Mr. Herman Mayer, and introduced myself.  He was an older man with a receding hairline and a friendly enough smile.  I stood stoically as he explained where we were in the book and that I would be excused from the quiz at the end of the week.  I nodded, took the textbook, and sat at the desk he'd indicated near the back of the room.

Although I had only attended one high school prior to Dunewood, I had once been a typical teenager and met quite a few people online so I was very much aware how high schools were similar - especially in the clique department.  Of course, there weren't many representatives of the various cliques in my Calculus class since it was a little more difficult, but I was certain that by the time lunch rolled around, I'd have them all pegged.  It was a very small town and an even smaller school.

I jotted a few notes, browsed the textbook, and watched two girls pass notes back and forth as if they didn’t have cell phones or the capability to text. Maybe they were old fashioned. I crossed my fingers that they’d get caught.

When the bell rang, I hurried off to my next class and pretty much endured the same thing. I didn’t pay much attention to the people sharing my classes, nor did I notice if they were in any of my previous ones. I was far too busy doing the best I could to fade into the background. Tough task in a small school when you’re the new person.

Lunch did perk me up a little, however. I was hungry, for one, but I was also sort of anxious to figure out the caste system – even if I wasn’t particularly eager to join society.

Selecting a few items from the lunch buffet, I carried my tray to a dark corner and plopped down at an empty table. I opened my bottle of juice, nibbled on a French fry, and watched the ensuing show.

I was expecting High School Musical without the cheesy soundtrack, but I was sadly disappointed. Sure, people congregated in little groups but it didn’t look as though there was a particular ‘in crowd’.

I ducked over my tray with a shrug, concentrating only on finishing my food and finishing the day.

Rude Girl, Damon, the ‘rad’ boy, said as he dropped his tray on the table right across from me. You have the whole school buzzing about you. They’re saying you’re rude and unfriendly.

Dude, he’s right, Shane, Damon’s buddy, agreed as he parked next to Damon. It’s scandalous.

It’s kind of hilarious, too, Damon said with a slow smile. He offered me a pickle spear. Here – the token olive branch of peace. Or truce, whatever.

His easy-going, laid-back smile sort of reminded me of Jared, my big brother, and I had a hard time resisting. I grabbed the pickle and took a large bite. Thanks. Guess I am being sort of rude, huh?

That’s all right – they’re jealous of you anyway, said a short girl with a black beanie crammed over her light brown hair. The fake girls think you’re prettier than they are and they can’t stand it.

I jumped and gawked at the girl as she dropped to the seat next to me. I lifted a brow as I appraised her. She wore baggy jeans, a t-shirt with some sort of intricate design, and no makeup whatsoever. She was cute in a tomboy sort of way. And you are?

That’s Reg, Damon said, shaking a French fry at the other girl. She hangs with us.

Reg? I asked.

Regina, the girl said as she crammed her hamburger in her face. I hate it. I mean, who the hell names their kid Regina these days? I prefer Reg.

I don’t blame you, I guess, I said as I pushed my tray away. I drained my juice, not really sure what to say. I knew Aunt Franki wanted me to make friends but I just didn’t want people prodding into my life. Friends wanted to know everything about you and when they found out your deepest secrets or horrendous heartbreaks, they either smothered you with sympathy or ran for the hills.

So, Gina and her friends are a little threatened by you, Reg continued, absolutely beside herself. I heard them talking about it in the bathroom. They think you’re pretty and are afraid the guys will think you’re prettier than they are.

I set my juice bottle carefully on the table so I could roll my eyes properly. I picked at the label glued to the glass and ignored Reg’s comment. Sure, once upon a time, I’d had my fair share of male admiration. Of course, back then, I'd dressed carefully every morning and worked on my hair endlessly. Now, though, I grabbed a pair of jeans and whatever shirt was clean before throwing my hair in a ponytail.

Shane grunted. She is, he said. His eyes grew as his cheeks pinked.

Damon shot Reg an amused look and the two of them shared a chuckle. I pretended as if nothing happened.

What do you have after lunch? Damon asked, once he rid the chuckles from his system.

Creative Writing, I muttered as I managed to liberate a corner of the label off the glass and tore a thin strip. Then a free period.

She must take all the smart classes, Reg grumbled as she mashed the rest of her burger before shoving it in her face.

Not really, I said. Eager to remove attention from me, I nodded at a group of girls laughing at a table in the middle of the cafeteria. Who are they?

Gina, Grace, Dayna, and Shannon, Reg said. They’re the ones that are afraid you might become some sort of beauty queen of the school.

How pathetic, I said as I watched one of the blondes apply a liberal amount of gloss to her lips. My mouth fell into a frown. Just a year ago I had been exactly like that –