Pinewood Academy ~ Chapter 1

Pinewood Academy

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Chapter 1

   My world didn’t end with a bang or even a scream, but rather one secret at a time.

   I look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My eyes wander over every inch of my complexion. It’s almost as if I’m searching for her. I am not like her in many ways, my pale blonde hair is much different from her dark brown color, it’s appearance wavy instead of straight. Our noses and lips are different too, mine naturally smaller than hers. Even our eyes don’t match, hers a stunning hazel, and mine a boring shade of grey.

   But we do have the same oval face shape. That’s truly the only reason friends and family would say we look-alike - if they would even go so far. I had always hated when people would gasp at the fact that I was so closely related to her. She was my greatest role-model and I’d always pictured myself being just like her one day. I still do.

   Grey eyes staring into grey eyes, I watch myself begin to cry. The sobs begin again, and once they start there’s no stopping them. It’s like the ocean tide, it pulls you in, spits you out, then pulls you into the depths once again.

   I lean over the white sink, gripping its cold sides. The tears fall swiftly now, much like the rain of a storm.

   Why again, Sophie? Why does this have to happen now? I was fortunate enough to find a family bathroom, spacious and secluded from the bustling life of the New Hampshire airport, but there’s only so long I can hide in here. My ride should arrive within fifteen minutes, that’s hardly enough time.

   Tears running down my cheeks, I unzip my worn yellow backpack. Reaching into a pocket within the bag, I pull out a pair of small blue scissors. I’ve been planning to do this before I had even left my old house in Virginia. It’s merely something that must be done. I need to find a way to help myself move on.

   I look at my reflection in the mirror again, my vision blurred with tears. A painful sob emerges from deep within my chest, followed by a gulp for air. Why did she have to die? My mom, the person who raised me, who had always been at my side, and who had always loved me unconditionally, is gone. The person I looked up to the most in life, the one I’ve always aimed to most alike. She was so gentle and kind, always loving me through my worst faults. I just can’t understand why someone so good on this earth would be forced to leave it so early.

   She’s gone Sophie and there’s nothing you can do.

   I miss her so terribly much, the pain claws at my heart. Surely there’s something I could’ve done? What if I had asked her to stay home that day? I could have told her I was sick, or I could have gone with her and warned her when the car was coming. She must have been so scared when she was hit. Or maybe she was brave when it happened. I’ll never know because I wasn’t there. I wasn’t with her when she died, and that hurts most of all.

   I take a fist full of my long blonde hair and hold up the scissors, positioning them just below my collarbone. My mom had always told me I had beautiful hair. I always wanted to cut it short when I was younger, but she wouldn’t let me. She told me my hair was too beautiful to cut, and when I was mad she would say that I was her little Rapunzel. But now things are different. I’m different. I take the first cut and watch as the pale blonde locks fall to the ground, paler than usual in the fluorescent lighting.

   “You have to move on,” I whisper to myself, my voice raw with grief. Memories of the two of us pour into my head, memories of the time we made cookies for our neighbor after he broke his foot. The time we watched The Sound of Music on my sixteenth birthday and she sang the song “Sixteen Going on Seventeen” to me at the top of her lungs. Memories of when we would paint each other’s nails while listening to “Stacy’s Mom” and “Jessie’s Girl”, always discussing our theories of weather Stacy’s mom was Jessie’s girl.I take another cut, making my way towards the back.

   “you cannot continue like this.”

   Images of trips to Washington D.C. flood my vision, the long drives to the Shenandoah National Park, and flights to Miami over summer vacation. I remember that her favorite travel food had been cheese Combos, so we’d always get lots of those, and plenty of Root Beer to go with them. Sometimes we’d have contests to see who could catch the most Combos’ in their mouth. I would almost always win.

   Another few cuts and I’m about halfway around. I switch my arm placement so I can reach the back of the other side. I notice that hair covers my blue sweatshirt, and I glance at the ground to see that it’s already gathered in clumps on the white tile. I take yet another cut, moving faster than before, my heart pounding and my now vision blurry.

   “You have to get over her, Sophie.” 

   I run the scissors through my hair, my mind paralyzed yet buzzing at the same time. Double-stuffed Oreos, shopping at the mall, her horrible cooking skills, and the way she used to hug me when I cried. Oh how she would hug me, I wish I could feel her arms around me now, tightly squeezing me close to her chest. Close to her heart. She would rest her chin on my head and just allow me to cry. I remember the way she smelled, always of Tide detergent and sweet rose perfume. I remember her eyes looking into mine, the bright hazel darkened with the pain of seeing me upset.

   Someone knocks on the bathroom door, but I hardly notice as I take the last cut, my hair falling to the floor in a heartbeat. I let out a shuddering sob, my thoughts a whirlwind, and drop the scissors on the ground. Mascara smudges around my eyes as I attempt to wipe away the tears. I gulp in air and force my body to breathe it out. My nose, now swollen and red, runs with fluid and I wipe at it with my sleeve. My eyes look wild, reminding me of an untamed horse.

   “Sophie, you’re stronger than this.”

   Grey eyes locked with their reflection, I remember my mom saying those exact words when I was bullied in the fifth grade.

   “Sophie, you’re stronger than this."

   She had told me I was stronger when I wanted to give up on cross-country racing because continuously didn't place as well as my friends.

   “Sophie, you’re stronger than this.”

   On the night that my first date stood me up and I had returned home feeling ashamed and not good enough for anyone. She had told me that I was stronger and that I didn’t want a guy who couldn’t see what a wonderful person I was.

   Somehow, hearing those words repeatedly makes everything seem to slow down. My mind begins to calm, and the thumping of my heart softens - she’ll always be with me in my heart, I remind myself. That is one thing that will never change.

   I allow myself to let it out. I let out the pain and grief and anger and uncertainty, I sink to the bathroom floor, curling into a ball, the white walls seeming to close in around me. I miss her. I want her back, all I want is to have her back. I sit in a curled ball, letting the tears rain own until eventually all that’s left of my breakdown is sniffling and two puffy raccoon eyes.

   Eventually, I take a deep breath,  pulling myself up to look at myself in the mirror again. The new style isn’t as terrible as I had thought it would be. I watch my hair as I comb my fingers through it, removing any extra strands.

   Through the mirror, I can see that the ends are a little uneven and quite choppy looking, but it could’ve gone worse. I stoop down and pick up the little blue scissors, cleaning up the ends of my hair until I’m satisfied with what I have. My new cut falls just below my collarbone - maybe slightly above in some places. But overall it looks presentable, which is all I really want.

   I crouch down again and scoop up the clumps of hair, dumping them into the trash. Hair still lingers on the floor after the cleanup, but I figure someone will mop the floors at night. I use water and a napkin to wipe off the smudged mascara, then take my blue scissors and drop them into my backpack, zipping it up tightly. I check the time on my phone - only three minutes until my ride will be here.

   I grab my backpack from off the ground and grip the handle of my suitcase, ready to leave the bathroom. Before I leave, however, I pause and turn, looking around the bathroom. Everything is as it was before I had arrived, despite the few strands of hair left on the floor. Everything is still clean and perfectly placed, almost as if nothing had ever happened.

   I look at myself in the mirror one last time.“This is a new beginning, Sophie,” I tell my reflection in a small voice. It stares back at me, it’s eyes hollow, and scared, it’s lips quivering slightly. I attempt to make myself more confident as I continue, “Everything is changing so at some point you’re going to have to toughen up. Mom would’ve wanted you to be strong for her.” I raise my chin defiantly to my reflection, my lips parting slightly. It stares back at me, it’s eyes still hollow, but less wild. Less scared. “Once you’re at Pinewood Academy, there will be no more breakdowns. You’re stronger than this.”

   With those final words, I unlock the bathroom door and proceed into the busy airport.