My name is Ana

"Crap!!!" I yell out to myself as a blue rusty Buick Skylark barrels through a puddle splashing water and mud destroying my cropped jeans. "I just got these." I turn to look in the direction of my house. I live at 5 Hawthorne Way, Cold Creek, Washington. 6 blocks down and a right onto the last cul-de-sac at this end of town. The quiet end of town. Scratch that. The entire town is quiet. Nestled in the beautiful mountains and forests of Washington state. I can't complain. Everyone is friendly enough. The do-gooder types. Friday night community fish fries. Christmas in the square where the entire town signs up for secret Santa and worships a statue of the founder of the town that died 150 years ago. He "saved" the land and his people from the inhabitants that had already populated the area. I tried to correct the mayor last year during the town's 200-year anniversary jubilee. Apparently, pointing out that the founder of the town was a murderous thief is a serious infraction. It earned me 6 months of community service. The original people that populated this forest are nothing more than folklore. Some say they weren't human, others say they were just a community of gypsies. Any information about them has long disappeared or been destroyed. I think it's hidden. I've tried researching for years. I've hit nothing but brick walls. I can't even find birth records. This makes me more curious as every other surrounding town has fairly accurate records dating back about 300 years. Despite worshipping a murderer, It's a wholesome town. However, I never felt like I belonged here, well, not with these people. Not because I'm not a good person. I fit in just fine in that aspect. I just feel like I'm more. If that makes any sense. Anyone from a small town probably says that. How they can't wait to leave. Not me, though. I like it here. I like the small-town vibe and the small, close-knit community. I love the trees and forest surrounding the town even more, though. I feel closer to the land than the people. I swear it feels like it's trying to tell me something, and I can't stop searching for what it is. I also constantly get the feeling that I'm waiting for something. More so lately. I let out a defeated sigh. "I'll be late if I go home and change." I turn around to start treading the last 3 blocks to school in my wet yoga slings and filthy jeans. I notice a black suv sitting on the side of the road. "What the hell is that?" I mutter. It might as well be the bat mobile in this town that is full of clunkers, mini vans, and pickup trucks. As I get closer, I notice it's a frickin Maserati. I've only heard about them in books. They must've taken a wrong turn somewhere. I look around. Poor folks. It's not even an exciting town to accidentally end up in. The school is just up ahead, followed by the town library. It's almost a quarter of a mile after that before you get to the part of main street that is full of small businesses. You will find a few stores, post office the municipal building, a diner, and that dam statue in front of the historical society that lacks a lot of town history. I've been banned from there. They just finished building a small mall another quarter of a mile after that. It has a movie theater and some name brand shops. Surprisingly, it's a fairly large town but only has a population of 1200. One main strip that runs straight through. We moved here from Arkansas 10 years ago after someone decided to build houses on 8 cul-de-sacs spidering off of either side of the main street just as you're leaving town. The rest of the town is nothing more than barely paved roads winding through the forest and hills. "Hey Ana!!!" My best friend Beth comes skipping up to me as I approached the school. Today, she's wearing a lime green sundress with some kind of pink flowers. How she can skip in platform wedges is beyond me. "Any idea what you want to do for your birthday next week? My cousin said he'd smuggle us some booze. So that's one thing we don't have to worry about. He can only come this weekend, so we have to let him know by Friday." Good ol' Beth. You need something, and she's the girl that will find it for you. Beth is my saving grace in this town. We've been best friends since I moved here. It seems like yesterday when I started 2nd grade here at Cold Creek Elementary. A bubbly blond plopped down next to me and told me if I wasn't her friend, she'd kick my ass. I noticed we were wearing the same shirt and decided it was fate she's been my ride or die since. Beth is 17, a month younger than me. I'm turning 18 next Friday. She's a couple inches shorter than my 5'6. Ice blue eyes and long blonde hair straightened, then curled into perfect tossled ringlets. My hair is long and black and naturally dries into the tossled perfect ringlets Beth takes hours to achieve. She hates me for it. But that's where any hate ends. They call us Yin & Yang. Beth loves experimenting with colors. The brighter, the better. It matches her vivid personality. Where my wardrobe consists of 3. Black, white, and purple. I'm only vivid on the inside. I'm more the quietly observing type. I have currently decided to dip dye the tips of my hair violet to match my eyes. That's about as colorful as I can handle. We're completely opposite, but we balance each other out. I don't know what I'd do without her. "My parents want to have a BBQ. We can always mix our own drinks. Who's going to notice? Tell him to bring us what we need for jungle juice. We can hide the jug in the bushes. By the way, you're cordially invited to my 18th birthday BBQ next Saturday." I start to beam at her. My smile fades as I look up over Beth's shoulder in time to notice the Maserati creeping past the school. I didn't notice earlier that the windows are completely tinted, and I can't see who's inside. I can't help but feel like there's more than one pair of eyes, and both of those pairs of eyes are on me. A weird feeling zaps through me. Starting in my chest, radiating out through my body. I start to zone out. "What's this about your birthday party Saturday?" I'm suddenly jerked back into the present by a bony arm being thrown over my shoulder and a self invite to my party. Great. "Hi, Justin," I manage to get out as I'm trying to shake off my totally weird Maserati experience. I friend zoned Justin 4 years ago at Sabrina Williams' 14th birthday party. He paid Sabrina 2 months' worth of homework to rig a game, so I would end up in a closet with him. Huge mistake on his part. I don't like being tricked, I don't like being cornered, and I absolutely can't handle someone confessing their undying love for me. Especially in a closet. Justin is a nice guy, though. He lives in the same cul-de-sac as me. We have been friends since my family moved here 10 years ago. Justin turned 18 a few months ago. He's almost 6ft tall and lanky with very pale skin without a single blemish. Topped with perfectly combed and styled dirty blonde hair and green eyes. He's not bad looking. He's just not for me. He's also a direct descendant of the Murderous town founder. I've tried getting family information from his mother, but she's tight-lipped about everything. His Mom drops him off at school on her way to work every morning a half hour before school starts. He doesn't like to be in the sun for the length of time it takes to get to school. He can't be near bugs, weather, air, and so on and so forth. I'm surprised he hasn't put himself in a wearable bubble yet. As soon as his arm hit my shoulders, I suddenly felt something stir in me. It was uncomfortable. It almost felt like rage. But it wasn't my rage. It also felt like I was doing something wrong. Like a built-in warning alarm was going off inside me. I looked back up to see the Maserati driving away as I took a step away from Justin's arm. All of the weird feelings just suddenly stopped. "What the f**k?" Beth got quiet and just stared at me I can see the questions rolling through her head. Later. I can't talk about this now. I don't even know what to say. I decide deflection is the best choice. "Well, cats out of the bag. Party at my house next Saturday." Not that Justin would show up anyway. It requires going outside. Plus we have a pool. Justin has expressed his feelings on numerous occasions about the health risks of chlorine exposure. Justin looks at me with hope in his eyes. I hate that look. It's the look that says that he still hasn't come to terms with his friend zoned status and thinks I'm telling him there's still a chance. None of which I have ever said nor conveyed.