Still waiting for a title

Chapter One

The second hand on the clock of the schools office wall seemed to be ticking slower as I sat on the hard wooden bench, waiting for the verdict. I could hear my father bellowing, behind the closed door in the principal’s office and I felt sorry for Mrs. Stanley. I hadn't expected him to be this upset, not with the school at least; I had fully prepared myself for the treatment Mrs. Stanley was now receiving. This was, after all, the second time this had happened. They had waved my suspension last time however, thanks to my father’s generous donation towards the school, but I was sure they wouldn't blow it over a second time, and even if they did, I wouldn't allow it. It was stupid to think that I could get out of something just because my family had money. I would take whatever punishment came to me, I deserved it. Not that I wouldn't do what I did again in a second if I had the chance.

I glanced at the girl sitting next to me. She wore all black, except for the silver safety pins fastened up her sleeve and on her short skirt. She snapped her gum as she flipped through her I pod and I could hear the death rock blaring from her ear phones. I wondered if I would ever be able to pull off a look like that, after having red hair all my life, black might be a nice change. Then again, I didn’t exactly have the personality to go with the attire. She looked up at me and caught me observing her, giving me a threatening look. I gave her a small smile then looked back up at the clock and sighed, wondering how much longer it would be. My father’s voice continued to rise and I had to keep myself from going in and defending the woman, knowing very well what it felt like when the man raised his voice at you, and I knew that I would receive much worse once we got in the car. I looked at the girl

“Would you like to trade lives?” I asked, knowing she couldn't hear me. To my surprise, she looked up and glared at me again.

The door of the principal’s office suddenly opened and my father hastily walked out into the main office, where he turned to face me.

“Clean out your locker, Katelyn” He ordered.

“Mr. Thomas, please be-” Mrs. Stanley began, but was quickly interrupted.

“I'm pulling you out of this second rate school” He held the door open for me. I looked at Mrs. Stanley who was looking at me with an apologetic look on her face, and followed him out the door.



The ride home hadn’t been the scene I was imaging.

“What happened, Kate?” He had asked after about five minutes on the road.

I looked straight out the windshield as I answered “I’m sorry dad.” I ran my hand through my hair, an old nervous habit “Brianna didn’t deserve –“

“I didn’t ask why you did it, I asked what happened” He said, cutting me off.

I sighed “I went up to Alyssa and told her to back off” I peered over at my father “more or less.”

“And then she pushed you?” He asked. Mrs. Stanley must have given him a quick rundown between his cursing.

“She shoved me, yes”

“Hard?”

I shrugged “she may have meant for it to be hard”

“Then what?”

It felt strange to be talking to him like this. This conversation, right here, was probably the longest conversation I’d had with my father in years. I continued explaining “I shoved her back. Into a locker. She tried to slap me…I think, she might have been going for a punch, I wasn’t quite sure what she was attempting to do. Anyways, her hand came at my face, and I ducked. Then…I punched her” I waited for him to say something else, but he only continued to stare at the road, his face expressionless “I knocked her down, and punched her again before Mr. Parks showed up” Again, he said nothing “and that’s it”

“I see” He said calmly.

I stayed on the edge of the passengers seat for the rest of the drive, knowing he was about to blow up any second. Any small movement of his sent my heart racing. While I had inherited my mother’s looks to a T, I had also inherited my fathers temper.

He hadn't said a word since we had gotten home. I had gone straight upstairs, and found myself feeling restless. I cleaned my bathroom to perfection, and was just getting started on folding my laundry when my cell phone rang.

“Hello?” I answered.

“I heard you beat the crap out of Alyssa MacDonald today” The familiar voice of my older brother, John said from the other end of the phone.

“That was quick”

“Facebook” He explained.

“And that's exactly why I don't have it” I replied. “So what is everyone saying? Anything good?” I asked, a little sarcastically.

“Not for Alyssa” He laughed “apparently she didn't even have a chance! You really went at her, huh?”

“I did not go at her!” I defended “she started it”

“Because you threatened her, right?”

“Well...yes” I admitted. “And then she shoved me, what was I supposed to do?”

“Walk away?” He offered.

“Ha!” I finished folding a t-shirt and sat down on my bed “You know what I'm like when I get upset. Something just breaks loose inside of me and I snap!”

“What did she even do?” He asked.

“She was picking on Brianna Wilkins again” I explained.

“And...”

“And Brianna's too shy to defend herself”

“Was she saying anything to you personally?”

“Not at the time, no”

“So, let me ask you something, Kate” He said “Why do you always feel that it's your job to defend everyone else? It's like we're 7 and 5 again, and you're trying to protect that mouse from our cat” He said, laughing at the memory.

“I don't feel like it's my job, John” I said defensively “It just upsets me”

“Enough to risk suspension?”

“I snap! I told you this!” I stood up and walked over to my window, looking out across Twin Falls.

“Well...at least you won. It would have been really embarrassing if you had lost, for me I mean.”

I rolled my eyes “Yes, I can see how it would have been hard for you to show your face in public again.”

“I taught you everything you know, Katie! When the student fails, it's just as embarrassing for the mentor”

“Mentor? Really?” I questioned.

“What did dad say about it all?” He asked.

“Nothing to me, but Mrs. Stanley got an earful”

“Oh boy” He sighed.

“He pulled me out of school” I told him.

“He what?!”

“Pulled me out” I repeated.

“I was not expecting that”

“Neither was I” I turned back to the pile of clothes on my bed and continued folding “I don't know what school he's planning on enrolling me in”

“You’re eighteen, he'll probably have you decide, knowing dad.”

“That’s true” I agreed. “I'll text you when I find out what his plans for me are. How's my baby?” I asked, changing the subject.

“I don't know who you're referring to, but MY baby is doing just fine”

“YOUR baby? Who spend countless hours rebuilding her?”

“Who bought all the parts?” He countered.

“Fine then, our baby”

“Katelyn! You're my sister, that's just sick”

“It's a car!” I retorted. He let out a shocked gasp and I sighed “I'm sorry. Carol is much, much more than just a car.”

“That’s better” He said “she's running great! I think she might need new brake pads soon though”

“Really? I installed an entirely new breaking system, pads and all. But it's still the original pedal remember? It's probably just sticking” I suggested.

“Have you had any luck with finding an old car for yourself?”

“I found a few on line, but most of them have already been rebuilt, or would take a fortune to repair. It's hard to find a medium”

“I found a nice 72 Honda Civic here, and thought of you”

“Alright, if you can figure out a way to get it to North Dakota, from NYU, I'll take it” Just then my bed room door opened slowly and I sighed “John I have to go, I'll talk to you later”

“Let me know what happens with dad, bye Kate” He said before hanging up.

“You know, that's what we have house keepers for darlin'” The annoying southern voice said from the door way.

“I'm completely capable of folding my own laundry, Judy” I sad to my step mom, who was young enough to be my older sister. I kept my focus on my clothes, and she didn't speak for another couple minutes.

“How can you even understand this junk?” She asked. I looked up to see her holding up my Edgar Allen Poe compilation. She set it back down and picked up my copy of Wuthering heights.
“Honestly child, you should try readin' vogue once in while” She dropped the book back on my desk and looked over at me “you would at least learn somethin'”

“Like what my shade of lipstick says about my sex life?” I suggested.

She sneered at me and leaned against my wall. “Like how to dress, how to do your make up...”

“I dress fine” I interrupted calmly.

“Only because I buy your clothes” That was true.

“I know how to do my make up; I just choose not to wear it”

She rolled her eyes “Honestly girl, I will never understand you” She sat down on my desk chair and started flipping through one of my motor trend magazines.

“Was there something you wanted?” I asked impatiently.

“No, nothin' I wanted” She said. I waited for her to get one with what ever she wanted to tell me. When she still didn't say anything I ignored her and started putting my clothes into my dresser drawers. “You might want to leave your clothes out” She finally said.

“Why?” I asked, not amused. Folding my arms across my chest.

“Well it would just make it easier to pack is all” She said with smirk on her face.

“Come again?” I asked, not quite sure I heard her properly.

“Well after your little stunt today, your father wasn't quite sure what to do with you. We did some research, made a few phone calls, and he's in the process of enrollin’ you in Brigham academy.”

“Brigham...academy?”

“It's a private boardin’ school, just outside of Oakland California. The most prestigious school in North America” She said proudly, and I had the suspicion that the entire thing had been her idea. When I didn't reply she stood up and headed towards the door. “I'll keep you updated, but I think it's safe to tell you to start packin'” She winked as she exited my room.

I'm not sure how long I stood staring at the door like a deer in the headlights, but I only sat down when I felt my legs couldn't hold me up any longer. I sat on the edge of my bed and stared out my window.

They were sending me away. I felt the tears coming and I closed my eyes to keep them from flowing. I had always had the sneaking suspicion that my father didn't really love me, and I couldn't blame him. I understood why he treated my four older brothers differently than he treated me. I understood that he had lost my mother, the love of his life, a long time ago, and that it was painful for him to even look at me, because I was a spitting image of her. It hurt him to look at my face and see Michelle Thomas's slightly upturned nose, sporadically sprinkled with faded freckles, her cheekbones, her thin lips, and long red hair. Though, I had always noticed that all of those things were somewhat bearable for him, that he was able to look past those features. The real problem was my eyes. I could see how excruciatingly painful it was for him to have to look into my small blue – green eyes, and see my mothers. I understood that he never learned to deal with it, and that he buried himself in his hydro company in an attempt to escape. I understood, but it didn't lessen the pain.

She’d died of Leukemia, the day before my fifth birthday, back when we lived in Oregon, where I was born, and immediately after her death, my father sold the house, and we moved to Michigan. We never stopped moving.

My father had always claimed it was for his job, that they needed to keep transferring him, it wasn't until I got older that I realized that for him, constantly moving around the country was his way of dealing with his loss. His way of dealing with a tragedy was to run from it, and so he kept running.

I never complained. I tried to keep my distance from him and went a long with his running. I understood that he was in pain, and I did what I could to lessen that and make life easier for him. I worked hard in school, I did well in sports, and tried to obey every rule, though, there were times like today, when my temper or my impulsiveness had gotten the better of me.

Then we made the mistake of moving to Tennessee, and he met Judy. The thirty three year old who had wormed her way into our lives and married my father. I never quite figured out what it was that possessed him to marry the woman; I suppose he was lonely, or bored even. Either way, I think a dog would have been a much better choice. Since the day she'd plagued us with her presence she was intent on turning me into her exact replica, but I hadn’t conformed to her 6 inch heels and shopping sprees, or her chick flicks and celebrity worship. I knew she’d only married my father for his money, and I had no interest in allowing her relieve her boredom by attempting to be my female influence and role model. Though I did occasionally, to avoid conflicts, attend her high society events, where I was thrown into groups of girls with bleach blond hair, wore more make up than clothing, and sunglasses that outweighed their body mass. I hadn’t quite gotten along with them.

There was nobody here I would miss. I had gotten into the habit of sticking to myself, knowing that I would be leaving everyone behind in a year or two anyways. Even with the promise of permanent residency in Twin Falls, North Dakota, I hadn't broken the habit, and now I was leaving again.

There was no one here who I would miss, and there was no one here who would miss me. Including my own father. The realization forced me to close my eyes for a second time to keep the tears in.

I had always had the suspicion. Now, sitting here on my bed, knowing that soon, I would be flying half way across the country to a private boarding school, so they wouldn’t have to see me, only confirmed my suspicions, and that hurt more than I had thought it would.

No, it wasn’t the fact that I would be moving somewhere new, and leaving my pathetic life behind that had me gripping my comforter, with my eyes shut tight. It was the confirmation that I was not loved.





Flight 66 was now taking off from the Grand Forks international airport and I leaned my head back against my head rest, turning it slightly to watch North Dakota disappear through the small window. Twin Falls had only been my home for ten months, but I would miss it. I would miss the trees, I would miss the rocks and the hills, I would miss the rivers and the prairies. I would miss the snow. I stared down at the spots of white covering the ground beneath me. There most likely wasn't snow where I was headed, and the thought only brought the pain I had been suppressing closer to the surface. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to keep the tears in.

“Are you alright?” The woman seated beside me asked, concerned. I had forgotten she was there and jumped slightly as she gently touched my arm. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you”

I smiled politely at her “Thank you, I'm alright”

“Just try not to think about how high up you are, that’s what I do whenever I fly. I just picture myself in a bus” She suggested. The woman was middle aged, and was dressed slightly eccentric, with large hoop earrings, at least a dozen colorful bracelets on her wrists and a ring on every finger. She had a bright pink scarf tied around her neck and her black clothes were covered in sparkles.

“Thanks, I'll do that” I said, not feeling the need to tell her that I absolutely loved the thrill of the heights, and that what appeared to be worry was actually my heart breaking.

“What’s your name, dear?” She asked.

“Katelyn.”

“With a K or a C?”

“With a K” I replied smiling.

“Oh good. It's so much prettier with a K” She adjusted her seat slightly and turned to face me “and how old are you Katelyn?” She asked.

“I'll be eighteen next week” My birthday wasn't something I necessarily liked to think about. Still, I tried to sound happy as I said it.

“You don't seem very happy about that” She said, calling my bluff. I had never been that good of an actress.

“No no, I'm happy” I lied. She continued to stare questioningly at me and I smiled to reassure her.

“You should be. You'll be an adult, that's exciting!” I only nodded in response. “Where are you headed?” She asked.

“Oakland California.” I could see she was looking for a more detailed response “I'll be going to a private boarding school.” I added.

“Brigham Academy?” She asked, sounding somewhat shocked.

“Yes” I said slowly, a little confused at her reaction.

“Well congratulations! That's the most prestigious school in North America!” She said, tapping my arm again. “You must be an excellent student to have been accepted” She looked me up and down as she said it, coming to the conclusion that I had to have gotten in with grades, because it was clear by my faded jeans and zip up sweater that I wasn't anything exceptional in the way of money. I genuinely smiled at her conclusion. I did have good grades, yes, but I doubt they would have gotten me into Brigham with out my father.

“I suppose” I said shrugging.

She seemed to be examining me for a moment, and I began to feel slightly self conscious “Is that your natural hair color?” She asked.

I let out a small laugh “Every strand”

“My oldest daughter Cheryl has red hair too, only hers is more orange than red” She leaned in closer to me “I'd say yours is more of a light auburn. It's a beautiful shade” She said.

“Thank you” I said, trying to believe that her words really were sincere. I wasn't particularly fond of my “light auburn” hair. I glanced out the window as we emerged through the clouds. I remembered how disappointed I had been the first time I flew as a child, when I discovered the clouds weren't the soft white pillows I had imagined. I leaned back again in my seat and was surprised to find the woman still staring at me.

“May I ask you something?” She asked, not at all embarrassed that I had just caught her staring.

“Um, sure”

“where did you grow up?”

“where didn't I grow up” was my response, she squinted in confusion “My dad moves around a lot for his job. I lived in ten different states between the ages of six and seventeen” I explained “and now California makes eleven”

“hm” she continued to stare at me, and the intensity of her stare, as if she was studying me, made me feel a little uncomfortable. “Could I see your hand?” She asked, catching me off guard. She held her hand out, palm up, waiting for me to hand her mine. I reluctantly reached out and placed my hand on top of hers. With her free hand, she turned mine over so that it was palm up as well, and then began examining it, feeling the creases with her finger.

“Are you...reading my palm?” I asked, confused. She only nodded and continued examining. “Do you usually do this to people you just meet? Is it some kind of an icebreaker?”

Her expression remained serious “No. I never felt the need to until now.”

The seriousness of her words surprised me. I cleared my throat “well, is there anything good?” I asked.

She glanced up at me for a moment, and then focused her attention again on my palm “It's very interesting” She mumbled. I watched her facial expressions as she moved to each of the lines; they didn't change too much until she got to one. Her eyes widened and she immediately released my hand. She stared up at me, the same shocked expression on her face.

“What?” I asked, stupidly looking at my palm “What's wrong?”

She shook her head “nothing” She leaned back against her seat and closed her eyes.

“Nothing? But you - “

“shh” she said cutting me off.

I stared at her in disbelief for a moment, waiting for her to tell me what exactly just happened. After a couple minutes, it was clear that she wasn't going to open her eyes any time soon. I looked at my palm again and tried to find something, anything that would initiate that kind of reaction, but they all just looked like insignificant lines to me. I shook my head; it was ridiculous for me to be at all worried about what she might have seen. I didn't even believe in palm reading or psychics’ or anything paranormal for that matter.

I pulled out my mp3 player, reclined my seat and closed my eyes. I had never been able to sleep in any kind of vehicle, planes included, but I certainly felt tired enough. I had spent most of last night crying. When I had no tears left, I had fallen asleep, but it was only for a few hours. I tried not to think about the reason for my crying now, but it was almost impossible not to. I turned up the volume and focused on the song playing instead.

I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I heard was the pilot's voice over the speakers, announcing that we would be landing in about fifteen minutes. I let out a yawn and was stretching when I noticed the palm reader looking at me again.

“Good morning” I said smiling. She opened her mouth to say something else, but looked the other way instead.

I shrugged it off and began putting my mp3 player away. I was just zipping up my back pack when she suddenly said “there's something very special about you, Katelyn” I froze mid zip for a second, then continued closing and sat up to face her.

“Pardon?” I asked.

She smiled a small smile “you are.” She leaned in closer, her face only inches from mine “very special and very powerful” She whispered “You're going to change the world”.

I stared at her blankly for a moment, then couldn't help but burst into laughter “That's funny” I said, trying to stop myself from laughing. She leaned back and stared straight ahead, I was worried I might have offended her “I'm sorry, it's just...if you knew me, you would know there is nothing even remotely special about me. Nothing. How would I ever change the world?” I had stopped laughing, but I still couldn't contain my smile.

“Don't doubt yourself Katelyn” She said firmly “There is something unbelievably special inside of you. I have a feeling your life is about to make a drastic change”

unbelievably was right. It was true that I was different than most of the groups of girls I had grown up with. Different values, different preferences, different perspectives, but that didn't make me special, not in the least. I had come to accept a long time ago that I would never be anything but ordinary. “Well...thank you, I guess” I tried sounding sincere so I wouldn't offend her again “If anything special happens, I'll look you up and let you know” I promised. I felt the plane begin its landing and relief swept over me, the conversation was beginning to get awkward.

“I'll hold you to it” She said, buckling up her seat belt. “Linda Davidson, from Bedford Ohio. Don’t forget it”

“Just so I'm prepared, Linda, how drastic is this change going to be?” I asked, humoring her.

“You'll see” She winked, then leaned her head back and closed her eyes, waiting for the landing.