CHAPTER ONE: NORMAL

  ELLIS

  “Ellie! It’s time for school!” my sister's voice calls from downstairs, ending what is very much my only comfort for the day: sleep.

  “. . . Can I not go today?” I ask, shoving my head deeper into my pillow. Gosh, I feel like I literally cannot survive a minute out of bed. Let alone seven hours.

  “You already know my answer to that! Now get down here quick, or you’re going to be late!” she yells back almost immediately.

  I groan, forcing myself to roll out of bed. Why can’t the sun just explode already? It’d be doing me and everyone else (except for people like Freya) a huge favour. I trudge towards my bathroom, evading the heaps of clothes, dishes, and empty pill bottles scattered around my room. No matter how hard I try, I have no motivation to clean anything, and although Freya helps whenever she can, even she can’t stop my room from looking like it survived the apocalypse.

  After giving myself a quick shower, I wrap myself in a towel and walk towards my bathroom mirror, looking at my reflection. Short, copper-red hair that’s cursed with annoying curliness, dark eye bags larger than the Himalayas, and circular black glasses that make me look like a nerd (I’m far from one).

  “Ellie! You’re going to miss the bus! Hurry up!” Freya yells again, causing me to promptly throw on my school uniform along with a grey, oversized hoodie from my wardrobe, pack my stuff in my bag, and run downstairs like a madwoman, which I’m ninety-nine percent sure I already am.

  Freya waits for me at the open front door of our tiny apartment, giving me a pitying look with those beautiful, golden-brown eyes of hers. Even with her scrubs on, she still looks absolutely stunning.

  Quite the opposite of me.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  “I packed you some lunch,” Freya says, holding a brown paper bag that probably has something plain like bread in it. Not that I’m complaining, though. Having something is better than nothing. “Sorry if it’s a bit small today. The hospital officials are postponing my paycheck to who knows when.”

  I roll my eyes in annoyance. “When are you going to quit working there?” I ask, taking the paper bag from her outstretched hand.

  She sighs, like this is the millionth time we’re talking about this. Which it probably is. “You know I can’t do that. I’m drowning in student debt, can barely put food on the table, and the loan sharks are still asking for the money that mum and dad owed them. Plus, your school tuition, too.”

  “Yeah, but the pay they give you is crappy.”

  “Starving to death or being sold on the black market by loan sharks sounds even crappier,” she retorts, though her words come out sad rather than angry or annoyed.

  I don’t know how to respond to that, so I awkwardly give her a kiss on the cheek and mutter “bye” before walking out of the open door. Freya says goodbye too, though I don’t bother looking back as I walk through the apartment building’s hallways as slowly as I can. Maybe if I miss the bus, Freya will have no choice but to let me stay home.

  As if on cue, my phone beeps the familiar sound of a notification popping up, and I open my messages app to see a text from Freya sent just now.

  Don’t even think about purposely missing the bus. Now hurry, or I’ll give you a piece of my mind later >:(

  Well, there goes my Plan A. I guess I’ll have to go with Plan B, then, which is ‘accidentally’ injuring myself, therefore rendering me unable to go to the prison called school. The sound of a notification from my phone beeps again, and I groan, reading the message Freya sent me.

  And don’t even think about injuring yourself, either. Just have a normal day, please.

  I squint my eyes at the message. Is she serious? I’m Ellis Belle Carter. Normal is literally not in my vocabulary. Even everyone at my prison—I mean school—knows this. Well, they know I’m a freak who never talks to anyone, but that’s beside the point.

  “Okay, Ellis. Normal. Normal. Just be normal.” I mutter to myself, running down the atrociously long flight of stairs leading out of the building. I pull the hood of my hoodie over my head as I practically fly through the main doors, repeating the words over and over again.

  Just be normal. Plus, it’s only for seven hours. Nothing could possibly go wrong.