Frustration gripped me me as I yanked off the yellow shirt and added it to the growing pile of other rejects on the floor. I was starting at a new school today. It was April so the school year was basically over. Why we couldn’t move in two months when school was over was beyond me. Every time I begged them to delay the move they dismissed my childish thoughts with a the wave of a hand.

I grabbed a white tee-shirt out of my drawer and then slipped into my jean shorts. The ones my mom called provocative, and yes I wore them just to piss her off. The outfit definitely wasn’t anything special but it would have to do.

I walked down the stairs and grabbed an apple out of the new, stainless steel, fridge. My mom was leaning against the counter cutting out coupons.

“You look nice”, she said without looking up. “But take your hair out of that ridiculous pony tail. You have gorgeous hair honey, why do you always wear it up?” When I didn’t make any move to take my hair down, she glided over and pulled the elastic out herself. I felt her eyes on me as my long burgundy hair cascaded down my back, passing my shoulder blades, ending at the small of my back. Neither of my parents know where my hair came from. Nobody in our family ever had burgundy hair and paired with my strange green eyes, I was barley human looking.

I threw my apple core in the trash, kissed my mom on the cheek and slipped out the back door.

The walk to school was pleasant. April in Northern California was beautiful I thought as I inhaled deeply. The flowers had already bloomed and the air smelled of fresh lilacs. This was so different from, my old home. Salem Massachusetts didn’t get warm until late May at the earliest. And even then the weather was iffy. A trickle of sweat ran down my neck making me shiver. The walk as about a mile, only 20 minutes walking, so I took my time because I was already running early.

I opened the door to the main office and was grateful for the cool gust of air that greeted me. I hadn’t even realized how uncomfortably hot I had been. The woman sitting behind the desk had big, curly red hair and wore an absurd amount of make-up.

“Can I help you?”, she asked placing her book face down in an attempt to save the page, but she missed the desk and it made a thud as it hit the floor. She slid a glance at it as if trying to remember the page.

“Uhm, yes I’m new a new student. I was told to come to the main office to check in.” I told her.

“Oh” she said as if somebody had stomped on her face, “you must be Willow!” I just nodded my head in response, trying to recover from her outburst.