Didi
In the past four years, I’ve had five first days of school. I liked my last school, and the town of Mystic. I made it through the awkward phase when everyone just stared at my white eyes, and then, when they realized my blood is red, just like theirs, I started to make friends.
Over the past year, as my body has filled out, boys have taken an interest, though only kissing me on dares. And now I have to start all over again and deal with the judgmental looks and whispers.
I sigh and walk down our dead lawn, briefly looking back at the one-story brick house and the long dead grass that surrounds it. It would be so easy to stay back there and hide, living on food stamps and scraps from people who feel sorry for us.
But there must be more to this. That can’t be my life. Mama can strip a lot from me—my dignity, my self-worth, my worthiness of love and acceptance—but school is something she never had. And it’s something I’m actually good at.
The grass is wet from the morning dew as I trudge along the side of the country road.
Spring hasn’t yet broken ground, but winter is pretty much over, leaving everything dry and dead.
The birds don’t seem to like it out here, and there is mist in the air, a heaviness I can’t quite describe, and all I can focus on is the creaking sound every time I take a step.
I barely make it ten feet down the road before I’m plagued with the belt digging into my skin, causing chafing.
I almost begged Mama to take it off, knowing she has the key hidden somewhere in the house.
She takes it off sometimes, mostly so I can bathe, and last month when it almost got infected, but only to avoid a costly hospital visit or prying questions from authorities.
Her voice echoes in my head. Sinful, ungodly girl.
I am sinful. God would be ashamed of me for letting that boy do what he did—sticking his tongue in my mouth. I can’t let that happen again.
I could tell someone what she’s doing, but I don’t. Because she’s all I have, and if I tell someone, I will lose her. Deep down, she loves me, and perhaps she’s right. Something isn’t right about me.
The scars on my thigh have become almost normal, the pain my only companion.
I keep moving, pulling back tears. The bus stop is only a couple of miles away, connected to a place called FreshMart, which also marks the end of the line for any form of transit—Mama and I are so far off the beaten path, we’re technically not part of the town of Kinsmen.
From there, it’s a ten-minute bus ride to Kinsmen High School, which I technically haven’t enrolled myself in yet.
I’m just relieved I don’t have to spend more time in that house than necessary.
The two miles make an incredible difference in the tree line as I approach FreshMart. The grass wasteland turns into a denser lush forest, which harbors the shiny and rich town that lives inside the magnificent trees that seem to stretch on forever.
I stand and wait, wrapping my arms around myself, hoping I didn’t miss the bus. I peer in either direction, only to be met with silence and dust. Eventually, I sit cross-legged and wait.
The bus finally arrives ten minutes later.
When it stops in front of me, the door opens, and an old man in overalls jumps out and pops inside FreshMart, barely sparing me a glance as he walks by.
Although his hair is gray, he has a big, dark, bushy mustache. He’s portly, with holes in his clothes like me, and the bus barely looks like it can drive, let alone drive me anywhere. The paint is practically peeled off.
I rise to my feet to wait for him, and when he gets back, he’s holding a small Dixie cup full of fresh coffee.
He sits in the driver’s seat, tilts his head up and takes a sip of the flimsy cup and the aroma makes my mouth salivate.
I’ve never had fresh coffee. Mama only drinks tea, but it smells delightful.
“Two cents to ride,” he drawls as he grabs a magazine and puts his feet up without sparing me a glance. The bus is empty, and he doesn’t seem like he’s ready to drive for a while, which probably means I will miss the start of school.
I halt in my spot. I didn’t think about money, or the fact I need money to get anywhere. I am, however, supposed to use the money Mama gave me to buy food, and I can’t show up at home without food.
Mama won’t be pleased.
I stand awkwardly, my feet frozen. “I…I’m sorry. I don’t have any money.”
Finally, he looks at me, and his eyes widen before he quickly composes himself.
Act normal, Diana.
I’m used to people’s first reactions to me, it’s just been a while since I’ve had to endure it. I’d love to read their thoughts as they stare into my white eyes for the first time.
His eyes soften but linger on my pathetic, worn-down backpack, then to my unusual ivory dress. The tips of his mustache twitch. “Are you going to the high school in town?”
I nod without really looking at him. Hoping…hoping he doesn’t truly see me. That he can look past the obvious fact that I’m different and let me on, anyway.
“I’m trying to get there. Today’s my first day.”
He watches me for a long second. He doesn’t say anything…he’s waiting. Waiting for me to look up at him, but I refuse. “You really don’t have any money?”
I keep my focus on my feet. “I’m sorry. I have no money, but I can pay you tomorrow. My mama and I just moved here; I live nearby. I promise, I’m good for it.” The tears start to burn the backs of my eyes as the dollar bill Mama gave me burns a hole in my bag.
The shame, embarrassment, and constant struggles.
My eyes finally meet his, and his mustache twitches again, which makes me smile. “You mean you live in the old Sheffield place?”
I shuffle slightly and kick a rock with my shoe. “That’s right. How did you know?”
“I heard about you and your mama movin’ in a few days ago. We don’t get a lot of new people ‘round here.”
My eyebrows drift up. “We just need to get on our feet. I can pay you back, I promise.” I’m not surprised that our arrival has already spread. Small towns have eyes everywhere, even if you can’t see them.
Our eyes meet, and I decide he is a good one. His eyes are kind. I’ve learned from constantly meeting new people that you can tell a lot about someone based on their eyes. My guess is, he’s seen a lot.
He jerks his head. “Alright. Hop on. Gotta drive in any way, so I might as well take you with me.”
Exhaling, I rush inside before he changes his mind, grabbing the first seat and placing my backpack down. “Thank you so much.”
He pulls out a cigarette and lights it, staring at me through the rearview mirror. “Why are your eyes and hair white like that?”
“I was born without pigment in them…it’s a genetic condition.” At least, that’s what I was told once by a nurse. Not according to Mama, but he doesn’t need to know that.
He reaches over and pulls the lever to shut the door. “I’ve lived in Kinsmen for sixty years, and I’ve never seen anyone like you,” he tells me, blatantly staring. I keep his gaze this time. If he wants to look, let him look. He’ll see that there is nothing scary in them.
I run my hand along one of my braids and smile. “My name is Diana.”
“The names Marty. Nice to meet you, Diana. The bus doesn’t leave for another ten minutes. This is the end of my line, so you will have to wait. And it only comes back out here again at the end of the day. You miss it, you miss it, you understand?”
My eyes light up. “Thank you. Yes, I understand. I won’t miss it, I promise.”
My stomach plummets, a cold dread washing over me as I realize there’s no money for tomorrow, either. If Mama has money, she won’t want to give me any for the bus.
“Marty,” I whisper, and he looks up at me. “I can’t pay you tomorrow, either. Or the day after. My mama doesn’t work yet.”
He looks back at me in the mirror. “Tell you what, you can pay me when you can.”
“Are you sure?”
He shrugs. “I’ll probably get fired, but I’m too old and tired to care. But I also can’t let you miss school. I don’t reckon I’d feel too good ‘bout that.”
I mouth thank you, and he goes back to his magazine and cigarette, finishing what looks like the end of his coffee in a paper cup.
He finally drives off, taking me into town. I gaze out the window, and a few others get on a few stops away and head right to the back, casting stares as they walk by.
The dirt road slowly gives way to pavement, and the trees materialize into a dense, towering forest with miles of canopy stretching above.
Houses are scattered along the road—big houses, with large yards and trees that tower over them.
Unlike the outskirts where Mama and I live, this town was built in the forest as if the forest is part of the town itself. My mouth parts open at how quaint and pretty it is. I’ve never lived anywhere so beautiful. It’s almost as if Kinsmen is hiding from the rest of the world.
“You ever been to Kinsmen before?” Marty eventually asks.
I shake my head. “Mama and I came from all over, but I’ve never been here.”
“It’s an old town, lots of history here. Many folks have done well for themselves. Lots of old money, here.” He pauses mid-sentence, and I shoot my head up, waiting for him to finish.
“What is it?”
“Never mind. I don’t want to scare you.”
I stare at him for a moment, wondering what he meant by that. Or what might scare me in a place like this.
My eyes catch a large sandstone building, and then another. From this distance, the buildings are like a castle shrouded in darkness. A dark aura hangs over the buildings and trees. It’s utterly beautiful.
“What’s that place?” I ask him as the bus pushes past what looks like a campus.
He looks at me through the windshield mirror. “That’s Kinsmen University. All the townsfolk go there, eventually. It’s what we’re known for in these parts. You think about going to college one day?”
One day…
“Yes.” It’s all I’ve ever wanted. But Mama thinks my dream of going to school is foolish.
I hope you don’t expect me to pay for that, her voice echoes.
He makes a few more stops, and more people get on, take one look at me, and frown before sitting away from me. Eventually, he stops. “This is your stop,” Marty says. “The high school is down the block. Bus will be here at four p.m.”
I get up, cringing when my belt pinches my skin in the worst part.
“And Miss Diana?”
I turn my head just as I’m about to step off. “What is it?”
He hesitates, as if reluctant to speak. “Keep your wits about you, girl. A college boy was found a few weeks back, torn up in these woods. Never found who did it. People in this town are superstitious, and they won’t take kindly to seeing someone like you. Some even believe he’s come back.”
“Who’s come back?” I ask, frowning.
His face grows solemn. “Shadowface.”