Anne

Every time she started a new school, Anne told herself it would be different. All her past mistakes were erased, and she could reinvent herself. No longer would she be the odd girl who talked too much about books and daydreams and not enough about movies and boys. This time, she would be like everyone else.

    Only, it never quite happened that way.

Oh, her intentions were good, and she tried hard, for sure. But there was something strange in her wide, limpid green eyes that she couldn't hide from the others. Something that spoke of a mind that drifted to worlds most couldn't follow her to, and no matter how she pressed her lips together, eventually her fanciful nature would spill forth in words and sighs.

And children were mean. They couldn't look beyond the awkwardness of adolescence to see the beauty waiting in the wings of maturity. One day, her slender face and neck would make her look graceful rather than gangly. Her red hair would darken to auburn, and other women would sigh with envy at its thickness. The freckles she detested and hid beneath makeup would become fashionable.

But today, she was too pale and thin, her hair more orange than red, with eyes too wide and knowing. She could never utter a word to her peers, and they would tear her down for the physical traits that made her different from everyone else.

This knowledge rested uneasily in the back of Anne's mind as she walked through the doors of  the Blythe Preparatory School for Boys and Girls, but she pushed it aside, telling herself there was no need to go borrowing trouble so early in the day. This time could truly be different.

After all, things were actually different this time. She was no longer an orphan or a foster child. She'd been adopted by the Stewarts- a prominent family in the area and the only reason she could attend a private school with such a stellar reputation. Her clothes were crisp with newness, and the material was expensive. It was the first time she wore something bought just for her, and as she'd pulled her top over her head that morning, she thought she looked as though she had curves. An added benefit of buying clothes that actually fit for once.

She clutched the straps of her black Brunello Cucinelli backpack, drew in a shuddering breath through the slight gap in her front teeth, and strutted into the school as if she'd been attending classes in the building since kindergarten. As soon as she entered, she knew she was right.

This year was going to be very different.

Every student milling about in the commons area paused their conversation to stare at her. It was as if they had a hive mind, moving their necks and eyes in unison to catch a glimpse of the stranger in their midst. It didn't matter that she wore clothes as nice, if not nicer than theirs, or that her long hair, recently styled and straightened professionally, was just as shiny as theirs. She was an outsider, and not a single person looked at her as if they were willing to grant her permission to the inner circle.

Swallowing hard, Anne tried to find a sign for the offices, but her eyes were blurring with uncharacteristic tears, making reading difficult. Especially as she had to move her gaze about rapidly to keep anyone from noticing the strange shine in her eyes, but at last, she spied what she needed.

Muttering pardons, she pushed through the crowd and reached for gold handle of the glass door, but when she tugged, it didn't budge. Frowning, she peered through the door, wondering if perhaps it was locked because no one was inside, but a woman with iron gray hair sat at a mahogany desk, typing away furiously at her keyboard.

Anne pulled again, and this time she felt a little give. But then she heard the snicker.

"Excuse me," she said as politely as she could muster considering her temper was surging to the point that nearly all the sound in the room faded. "I need to get my schedule."

"Are you sure you're in the right place?" The words were spoken in a snide, falsetto, and when Anne looked to her right, she saw the voice matched the speaker.

"Unless you're aware of another set of offices, then yes. I believe I'm in the correct location." Anne batted her pale eyelashes at the girl, trying to force down the rush of jealousy she felt as she took in the girl's dark beauty.

"No, no. These are the front offices, but I think you're in the wrong school."

"Ah, I see. Well, it appears that you're the one who's mistaken. Let me through."

"No," the girl said, her pointed jaw tightening as she shoved her foot hard against the door. "You're not wanted here. We all know you're adopted. Changing your last name doesn't change who you are."

"Give it up Jodie."

Jodie. The name fit the sullen teen girl, and Anne looked beyond her shoulder to see who had come to her rescue. She nearly swallowed her tongue at the sight of the boy. He leaned against the cinderblock wall, his chestnut hair falling into his eyes in a way that could only be deliberate. The school uniform's required tie was loose around his neck, and he rolled up the sleeves of his cardigan, which revealed perfectly muscled forearms. She'd never understood what the other girls meant when they drooled over boys and rolled up sleeves, but just one look at his arms and it all clicked with a hot flash across her face. One she was certain everyone could see because of her milky complexion.

"Look, Gavin. You made her blush," Joddie giggled. "She probably thinks you're best friends now."

Gavin pushed off the wall and brushed his hair away from his face, revealing the bluest pair of eyes Anne had ever seen. Blue eyes that he leveled on her as he replied to Jodie. "Don't be that bitch. Let her get her damn schedule."

Then he walked away, not bothering to see if Jodie would heed his advice, but Anne sensed it wasn't a lack of caring one way or the other. Rather, Gavin spoke and expected Jodie to listen.

"Ugh, whatever," Jodie huffed, moving her foot out of the way. "Don't get too comfortable here."

"Did I do something to you?" Anne asked before she could stop herself.

That was the way her mind worked. Loading her thoughts to her tongue before she could stop them. She was just glad she hadn't called after Gavin as he retreated.

Jodie huffed and flounced away without answering. Several of the boys and one or two girls paused to enjoy the skin she flashed with every bouncing step, and no one was foolish enough to think the show wasn't on purpose.

"Ah, Miss. Stewart. I was beginning to worry you'd be tardy," the secretary said when Anne walked into the office.

A massive Christmas tree filled the far corner, its branches bare of lights or ornaments. It scented the air with fresh pine, and if she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine she was lying in the woods on a blanket of fresh, pristine snow. The heavens above would be covered in clouds of cotton, while flurries spun through the air, settling on the tip of her pert nose before melting away to--

"Miss Stewart," the secretary said sharply, dragging her out of her daydreams. This happened often enough that Anne didn't bother to be embarrassed.

"Sorry, the crowd was difficult to get through," Anne answered as she accepted the schedule and map the older woman provided.

Already, her mind was turning toward other thoughts, and she barely registered the directions to her first class. As she wandered down the hallway, she returned to the winter woods. The walls fell away around her, and the stuffy artificial heat turned to shivering winds, and her chattering classmates became chirping birds.

The plaid skirt and white top became an elegant gown of silk and satin that trailed behind her as she walked. Its hem grew damp in the snow, but she paid it no heed. She was waiting. Waiting for her love to return from war. He would swoop down from his steed, his arms opening wide to draw her to him.

Anne's full lips parted as she imagined what came next. This was the part of her dreaming she was never very good at. Shyness and inexperience made supplying the details difficult, and often, she moved on to other stories at this point. But as she slid into her seat in homeroom, the man in her thoughts still held her, his arms tightened around her, and his lips drew near. And for the first time, he wasn't just a shadowy figure- he had a face. And eyes as blue as the midsummer sky.

Anne jolted in her seat. Never in all her years had a person so quickly invaded her thoughts, and when she dared a look to her left, she found him watching her. A sly grin teasing the lips she'd just imagined kissing. Going red all over, she tightened her grip on the edge of her desk and tried to force herself to listen to the teacher. Math was her least favorite subject, which meant this hour would be difficult.

For once, she wished this school year would be like every other school, but as her heart pounded in her chest, she knew it was too late to go back to before.