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"I need you to go pick up your uniform," my mother calls from somewhere inside the still unfamiliar house.

"My uniform?" I furrow my eyebrows, peeking over the couch to take a glance at the archway that was the entrance of the living room.

I was currently sitting— well more like sprawled out— on our older, beat-up couch. It was a faded black color with a terrible design pattern. It was so old that I didn't know what it was and I was sure even my mother wouldn't have a clue.

There was this hope inside me that someday my mother would buy a new one and dump this ancient thing. I mean, it didn't need to be anything expensive. My eyes dart to her dark hair that appears underneath the archway.

"Yes, your new school called to say your uniform was ready for you to pick-up," she is drying her hands with a pink, floral hand towel.

"Me? I don't even know where the school is," I look back down at my plain tee-shirt, my neck beginning to ache from sitting up.

She comes around the couch and sets the colorful hand towel down on the wooden coffee table. I watch as her thin fingers sort out various items on one side of the table. My patience starting to fade away by the second.

She glances over at me and rolls her brown eyes when she notices my awkward lying position. What can I say? It's not like we had company over. There was no point for me to put effort into sitting lady-like.

She looks expectantly at me, one of her eyes twitching. I groan and sit up, stretching my arms. My back popped a few times as well, the pressure releasing instantly. Maybe I had been relaxing on the couch too long.

"I can give you the address, I'm sure it won't be hard to find," my mother smiles at me, dismissing the fact that I had an absolutely horrible sense of direction.

I begin to protest, but to no avail did it work. "But—"

"No buts."

"I have to run to my new workplace to get the transfer papers completely signed," she stands up, abandoning the coffee table items.

I study her closely, she is indeed wearing her work attire. She keeps it rather neat, and professional. A bright white buttoned-down shirt with a black skirt. After all, her life motto was dress to impress.

She turns away from the couch and walks away. Our first day in a new town and she is already leaving me by myself. I feel abandoned.

Wait, if she's going to work then how am I supposed to find the school?

"Are you taking the van?" I jump up a bit too quickly, black spots suddenly enter my vision.

I hear a chuckle and her continuing footsteps toward the archway. The black dots disappear as I watch her put one of her hands on the wall. She glances back at me, no sign of sympathy. How can she be so cruel?

"Oops, I guess I forgot to mention you'll have to walk to the school," her voice is filled with amusement and her eyes are twinkling.

This time, it was my turn to twitch one of my eyes in annoyance as she walks to the kitchen. Is it weird that we both twitch our eyes? I shudder, thinking I couldn't possibly be that cruel.

I hear what sounds like car keys jingling and soft footsteps. There is a need to shout the frustration that is built up in my chest, but I keep it compressed. There goes my only hope for survival.

"Address is in the kitchen, I won't be back until later tonight. Love you!" Her melodic voice rings through the halls.

The front door creaks open and then slams closed. The house instantly feels lonely, even with my scruffy lab residing somewhere else inside. Running my hand through my knotted hair, I release an irritated sigh.

"Yeah, love you too," I mumble, more to myself since my mother had already promptly left.

I enter the kitchen, it is kind of nice looking with grayish-colored tiles, dark wood cabinets, and sleek white granite countertops. It is certainly the most modern appearing part of the house.

Unfortunately for me, the room is still stacked to the top with unpacked boxes. There are far too many that the room is nearly entirely filled. My mother and I had decided to play a game called who could stack the most boxes?

I spot the yellow sticky note on the island. Its neon color stuck out like a sore thumb on the white countertop. I make my way toward it, only after knocking down a few boxes that were blocking my way. I lift it up and examined the cursive writing.

"Wintercrest Academy, huh?" I say out loud, imagining it is more a prison than an school.

How am I supposed to find this school? I don't even know what street I live on. With a sigh, I stuff the small paper in my front pocket. I make my way out of the kitchen and toward the front door. The plain halls really need some sort of décor on them.

I find my ragged gray tennis shoes that had been left by the mahogany door and slip them on with ease.

"Bye Oscar! Please don't eat the trash while I'm gone!" My voice echoes through the silent house and I silently wonder if my dog has already gotten into my bedroom.

I step outside with difficulty because in an instant I am hit with an incredible chill. I was not aware that it was supposed to be below fifty degrees (Fahrenheit) outside.

I probably should have gone back inside to retrieve better-suited winter clothes. But before I knew it, I had already reached the bottom of my porch steps. Don't roll your eyes at me.

To go back inside, it is two steps back up the porch. That would have required a certain amount of energy that I didn't want to use. Call me lazy.

The wind blows harshly, chilling me to the bone. I wrap my arms tightly around my chest trying to conserve whatever warmth I have left, my cheeks and nose burning from the cold. I grumble, my breath coming out in small puffs.

"I can't believe she left me behind!" I shout to myself, throwing my arms into the air like a madwoman.

A bright green light in the distance comes into view as I round a corner at the end of the street. I manage to exit my neighborhood and end up on what looks like a main road.

I frown as I realize something was off with this place. I snap my numb fingers, having an eureka moment. There are no cars passing by or people walking down the streets with babies.

I like cute babies and all, but it is strange not seeing a mother strolling her crying child down the street. It is weird not to smell gasoline as cars pass by while simultaneously messing up your hair.

This really is a small, empty town. There is a large forest protecting the town, almost like Wintercrest is the heart inside a rib cage.

Further down the main road, there looks to be smaller shop. Walking closer to the light, I finally can tell it is a square white sign with neon green bulbs brightly shining. It has three letters and spells one word. Gas.

It is a gas station, but the pumps were deserted. The building looks overall empty, but it probably was warm inside. Salvation! I will be saved from the unbearable fall weather.

I smile and despite my numb legs, I begin to sprint. As I make it into the lot, I note that there are three cars parked outside. A silver truck, a small red car, and a black jeep. I rush to the glass door and push it open, bells instantly ringing.

Forcing myself to leap into the tiny building, I am thrilled when warm air wraps around my body. A content sigh escapes my lips as the small silver bells ring once more as the glass door closes behind me.

My eyes dance around the open room, observing the rather crowded space. The plain shelves hold a stock of various items and I try not to dwell on the fact that I haven't eaten lunch yet. I am just happy to be saved from the weather.

Taking a hesitant step forward, I notice the white tiled floors and dim lights. Posters and old advertisements of cheap beer and greasy foods are littered along the peeling yellow walls. The lights above flicker, making a slight static noise each time.

On the left side of the entrance, there sits a cashier behind a counter. His arm was propping his head up as he dozes off. The sight of him makes me want to turn around and leave this empty store, his skin was unusually pale and tattoos snake up and down his beefy arms. Plus, he is snoring rather obnoxiously.

I can't help myself and roll my eyes at his unsightly behavior. But who can blame him? This poor gas station is a snooze fest. I take a more confident step forward, scanning the first aisle. I choose that one to make my way down.

A loud snorting sound comes from the direction of the napping cashier and I glance over my shoulder to see that he is still fast asleep. For a moment, I think that I could ask him how to get to Wintercrest Academy.

Grabbing a random bag of candy, I spin around. I run straight into something with the density equivalent of a brick wall. It happens so fast that I am almost certain it is indeed a wall.

I instinctively squeeze my eyes shut and I feel myself helplessly stumble backward a few steps. After I steady my body, I rub my throbbing nose since it took the impact of the hit. That really hurt.

"Ouch..." I mumble to myself and hesitantly peek one eye open to see what wall I ran into.

Holy mother of muffins.

A gasp escapes my lips and both my eyes are now wide open. I take in the appearance of a beautiful man before me. The word beautiful almost does him injustice, he would better be described as strikingly handsome.

His blonde hair is attractively messy and he has large milk chocolate eyes which shine from underneath the dark hoodie he is wearing. Despite the hood covering part of his face, I can see that he has sharp facial features. His pale skin makes his eyes stand out even more.

It is then I realize I am still staring at him. Suddenly, I feel my face begin to heat up. I know a blush has formed on my cheeks from the weird thoughts that went through my brain. I didn't expect to run into a supermodel on my second day in a new town.

He towers over me by a few inches, even with my above-average height for a female. Although he was breathtakingly handsome, he wears a simple black hoodie and dark-washed jeans. Locks of blonde hair stick out and I continue to admire him. I can't find the strength to turn away.

"Uh," The words are caught in my throat and I can practically hear my mother's scolding voice in the back of my mind. Idiot.

He surprises me by giving me a genuine smile. I watch with curiosity as he turns his back to me and walks in the opposite direction. My blush is beginning to disappear, yet my face still feels extremely warm.

The breath I am holding is suddenly released from my aching chest as I glance down at the tiled floor. That was really awkward and embarrassing. How can I accidentally bump into such a cute guy? The flashing image of him smiling at me runs rampant through my thoughts.

I am about to continue my mission toward the counter when the slight flicker of sparkle catches my attention. My eyes zoom in on the white shimmer, noticing a tiny object resting on the floor by my shoes.

I carefully bend down and grasp it with my fingers. Upon closer inspection, I conclude it is a necklace with a silver chain holding a small red pendant. The piece of jewelry is simple and yet I found myself admiring the stunning design. I wonder where it came from.

Stupid, my brain chides.

"Hey! You dropped this—" I stop mid-sentence when I realize the handsome man is no longer within my sight.

With my eyebrows knit together in confusion, I scan the small gas station for the boy. My feet carry me through a few more aisles before I give up on my search. The mysterious pale guy has completely disappeared.

My attention returns to the necklace that lays on my left palm. The pendant was small and in the shape of a oval, but still a dazzling red color. I run my index finger along the slightly cool metal chain before stuffing it in the same pocket as the sticky note.

I wonder why the mysterious man had the necklace in the first place. I'm not one to judge a guy if he does wear jewelry, but the necklace itself has such an feminine appearance that it doesn't seem like something a dude with a hood covering his face would wear. Maybe it was for a girlfriend of some sort?

In an attempt to stop my brain from asking a million more questions, I shake my head. So what if he had a girlfriend or a romantic interest? I don't know the guy. My arms reach for the floor and my right hand swiftly grabs the dropped bag of candy.

Coming out from the aisle, I see that a girl is already standing at the counter. The cashier is now awake, taking a few dollar bills from her hand. Slowing my pace, I walk closer and stand behind her. I didn't hear the bells go off when she came in.

The girl's dark brown hair is straight and longer than mine by a couple of inches. I peer curiously over her slender shoulder, watching the cashier hand her a plastic bag and receipt. She turns around and heads towards the glass door. Her gaze catches my stare at the last second. She smiles at me, showing off her pointed white teeth. Wow, she's really pretty.

"Come again soon," the cashier gruffly says to her before returning to his newspaper.

I stand there, for some reason unable to move. She pushes open the door and the bells ring once more. Now that I think about it, she looks around my age. Maybe she attends Wintercrest Academy? I conclude that she might know which way I should go in order to get there.

Dropping the bag of candy I had grab, I jog after the girl. The cashier mumbling at me for dropping precious merchandise. With quick movement, I pull open the doors, the bells chiming one last time. Man, they're starting to get on my nerves.

As I follow her out into the lot, I notice there are now only two cars. The red car is missing. That must belong to the guy I literally ran into earlier. The embarrassment will forever haunt me.

"Hey...um..." I call out without thinking of what to say first.

The girl stops and turns around. She stares at me with wide brown eyes.

"Yes?" She asks while popping open a dark liquid in glass bottle.

"I was wondering if you could give me directions," I suddenly feel self-conscious and fiddle with my cuticles.

She blinks and watches me for a few seconds before smiling brightly and walking toward me.

"Sure. What's the address?" She asks, taking a sip of her drink.

I stick my hand into my jean pocket and rummage around until I find the note with the address. I pull out the crumpled paper and hand it to her. She takes it with her free hand. Her brown eyes scan the paper and her face breaks out into a grin.

"You're trying to get to Wintercrest Academy?" Her eyes sparkle with recognition.

"Um...yeah. Can you direct me?" I glance away and scratch the back of my neck nervously.

She nods excitedly and extends her hand toward me. "I'm Rowan."

I look at her before reaching out and shaking her hand. I shiver, her hand is cold. It reminds me of how cold I was earlier. I can't blame her, it is freezing outside.

"I'm Saige," I smile politely, taking my hand back.

"Lovely. Now I can give you a lift to the school. You new?" Rowan asks and nods her head toward the silver truck.

"Yeah, I'm new. And a ride would be awesome if you don't mind."

Rowan shakes her head before turning and walking toward the truck. She gets in on the driver's side and starts the car. It roars to life as I open the passenger side and hop in. I quickly closing the door as warm air starts coming out from the vents. She sets her unusual drink in one of the cup holders.

"So where do you come from?" Rowan asks, backing out of the parking spot.

"Oh, I come from the southeast. I'm not used to such frigid northern weather yet...I just moved in yesterday," I chuckle.

She glances at me with a slight smile on her face and pulls onto the narrow road.

"Cool, we don't get a lot of new people. Most of us stay put after we arrive."

"Wow, that must get kind of boring," I chuckle again, "to stay in the same place, I mean."

She turns the wheel and looked at me.

"You bet. I wish I could leave this old town," Rowan sighs, "but that'll never happen."

I stare at her a bit puzzled by her statement. She slows the truck down as we approach a large brick building. She pulls into the parking lot and the truck comes to a stop.

"Welcome to Wintercrest Academy," Rowan mumbles sarcastically.

I laugh and pop open the door. It is a square building with gray bricks, white doors, and plain windows. Lining the top is black tin roof. There is a giant sign at the front with gold, cursive writing that read the name.

"Thanks for giving me a lift. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow?" I ask a bit too hopefully.

She smiles once more, showing off her slightly pointy, but pearly white teeth. Wow, she does like to smile a lot.

"Yeah, definitely. I'll come to find you so you don't get lost," she winks.

I laugh knowing I'll be stuck wandering around the halls searching for classes for hours.

"That would be much appreciated," I close the door.

Rowan gives me a small wave before backing up and driving away. Her truck is nice. I sigh, a puff of cold air forming. I turn toward the school, getting an eerie feeling. A cold wind blows, sending me into a fit of shivers. Damn wind.

I rush across the lot and inside the double doors. I look around the square room. In the middle is a circular desk with a lady sitting behind it. A few old, brown chairs were placed around the rest of the room. Plants and paintings of older people are the only decorations. Makes me feel right at home.

I step toward the desk, my shoes squeaking on the tile floor rather loudly, "I'm here to pick up my uniform,"

The lady looked up and raised her thick brow at me. Her hair was unruly and she looks utterly irritated.

"Name?"

I blink once, "Saige Morris."

She types on the computer before spinning in her chair. She grabs a black box that is sitting behind her, turning toward me again. The lady sets the box down in front of me and after she shoves a piece of paper at me.

"Sign here. This box contains your uniform, schedule, and any information that you missed at the beginning of the school year," she grumbles out.

I pick up a pen laying nearby and scribble on the piece of paper. She snatches the pen away from my hand before I can set it down in its original resting place.

I timidly grab the box before turning and walking away quickly. I glance behind me again to see that she is still sitting there typing on her computer. I sigh before turning toward the entrance. I embrace the cold air.