My first day at Cannon High School was not starting off great. My father and I had just made it to town two days before, and I was exhausted from unpacking. As usual, dad had found the nearest bar. I am sure he was more than happy he could walk to this one, no more DUI charges for him. I’m sure in his alcohol-soaked brain he didn’t consider they could still get him for public intoxication. Either way, it didn’t really matter much to me. I was accustomed to life without him. I could take care of myself and have since I was 10 years old.
The town was beautiful. I mean it was minuscule but storybook-like in appearance. People smiled and waved as you walked by. The kind lady next door had dropped off a casserole when she introduced herself. We moved around a lot. Dad had an aversion to jail and often ran to evade the police. Never had we been greeted by the neighbors or not looked at like trash. I was determined that as soon as I was 18, I was gone. I would be away from him so fast he wouldn’t know what happened. For the sake of honesty, he probably wouldn’t even notice.
I walked to school this morning; it was only 4 blocks away. Of course, with my luck, halfway there the sky opened, and it poured rain down for a total of 1 whole block. That was all it took though. I was soaked. My long hair hung heavily weighed down by the rain. My already cheap clothes hung from my body, and I would assume I resembled something akin to a drowned rat. Not the first impression I intended to make.