Fated to the Sapphire Alpha

One more day. One more day with the world watching me screw things up. The day I can finally walk without breathing through my inhaler will be when I finally see my worth. As cliché and stupid as it sounds, I don’t have the self-esteem others have—especially in this school filled with “perfect” people. Even my two best friends at this school have made me feel like the “it girl.” Samantha and Natally are two perfect girls compared to me. Both of my parents are divorced, and my dad made it clear that I don’t have a chance at living; he says my depression will be the sole reason I die. It feels amazing to know my parents think I have a shot at living. Not. Taking my inhaler from my backpack, I take a deep breath. Welp, it won’t be today. I take the bus every day, and my mom works two jobs to keep up with all my medical expenses. To summarize, I have asthma, amblyopia in my left eye, cataracts in my right, type one diabetes, lactose intolerance, and, to top it all off, ulcerative colitis, which keeps me from gaining much weight. This year, I had another horrible diagnosis added to my already disfigured immune system: chronic venous insufficiency. In other words, I can’t cut myself or even get a paper cut because I won’t be able to heal properly. Yay me. I also have braces because I was born with a small jaw and too many teeth that didn’t fit, all twisted around my mouth. I’ll have to wear them until I’m in my twenties. Fun. After that diagnosis, I was told my other conditions hadn’t changed since I was a child, and now I have chronic seasonal allergies that require me to stay indoors for life. Thank the gods for books and online reading. My mom doesn’t say it, but I know that I am her nuisance, and it wouldn’t surprise me if she kicked me out for failing to graduate. It’s my last year at this school; I haven’t had a problem so far, and I study all the time to get a good scholarship. You’d think having parents who work a lot would mean I have a good life. I don’t. Just like my parents, I’ve worked as a waitress at a nearby restaurant for three years. Neither of my parents knows about this, and I’m almost able to buy myself a used car. Samantha’s dad works for the only towing company in town. That means I dress like a hobo, and all of my clothes have patches sewn by yours truly. I learned through tutorials online, using the internet at school, work, or at my friends’ houses because I don’t have internet at home. I use a lot of my friends’ stuff. Everything I get “new” is known as a hand-me-down. They don’t mind it because they’ve seen how my mom is when they suggest otherwise. I couldn’t eat anything for a full month once because my mom took a vacation instead of being responsible for her daughter. She blames me for her problems, specifically why her dad cheated on her. It’s messed up, but it’s my life. After talking to Samantha about this, she spoke to her dad, who agreed to give me a car he had in his garage. I’m not picky—just as long as the car works. This town is one of the biggest main cities. I live in the middle of Noroak, known as the North City of the Oak. The entire city is filled with oak trees. There are three main cities here. Six hours east of Noroak is Deeford. The Deep City is the best place to enjoy city views, and the business side is where everyone can make it or die trying. From there, if you want to see the wildest side of the world by car, it’s a day and a half. By train, it’s half a day. By plane, it’s eight hours to get to Blobury, the Blood City, where many people live like hobos. It’s also where my dad lives. I don’t visit much anymore, especially since his new wife made it clear that I wasn’t welcome again. I’m still not sorry for saying no to eating her cake. It had eggs, and I am allergic to eggs and peanuts—any food that contains either. Salbay is the city everyone loves to visit for vacation, known as the Salty City on the west side. It has all the beautiful beaches, the white and yellow sand, and clear waters that make it worth the drive. But if it were up to me—which it never is—I would take the train. Thinking about that city, the school bus stopped right in front of the high school. I dread this every day. I looked around to see if anyone was around the school, and by anyone, I mean my only two friends. Seeing nobody there, I took a heavy breath and got up from the bus. I always sat behind the driver. After being bullied harshly in the first semester of junior high, he made a note to the drivers to never allow me to sit in any other seat that wasn’t behind the driver. I always get up first to get out fast. If they catch me, it’s over for me. I reached the front of the school and was about to open the door when it swung wide open, hitting my forehead. Ugh, just my luck. Falling on my behind, I reached up to touch my forehead, praying I wasn’t bleeding. With each touch, I glanced at my hand, then noticed my glasses had fallen. Great. Please, please, don’t let it be bleeding. After checking, I saw I wasn’t bleeding but felt a bump forming. With what little eyesight I had left, I started looking for my glasses. Finding them, I realized the already broken middle piece had come loose again. Fun-freaking-tastic. With my glasses back on, I looked up to see who had opened the door and found Zasha standing there. Trying to get up, my uncoordinated legs made it difficult. Finally on my feet, she shoved me back down, and my heavy backpack made it worse. “Trash should stay where it’s wanted—right in the trash can,” she sneered. I gulped, seeing her whole crew surrounding me. My heart raced, my breathing grew short, and I felt incredibly insecure, bracing myself for a beating. But then, Natally grabbed my arm and pulled me away from Zasha, whose face looked murderous. Looking back at Natally, I ignored the possibility of a bruise forming on my pale skin. “Thank you for saving me there, Nat!” She turned to me with her goofy expression. Natally has green-colored hair that contrasts with her blue eyes. She’s a bit chunky, with freckles on her face and shoulders. We ran until I couldn’t breathe and had to reach for my inhaler. I hate being this weak. Stopping in front of my locker, I realized it was too tall for my short stature. I wasn’t tiny—I was a decent five-four—but the lockers here seemed made for giants. I asked Nat to help me while I caught my breath. Feeling a bit calmer, Nat blurted out, “You stayed home last night, so I have to tell you what happened. Girl, Knight is a different guy! Please let me tell you about it, please?” She clasped her hands together like she was praying, with a broad grin on her face, skipping slightly like a little kid eager to share some juicy gossip. I rolled my eyes at her, then remembered I still needed to grab my books for the first period.