Young Writers Society

Rain lashed on the car windows, the wipers moving furiously to clear the windshield. Jenna sat with her chin resting on her hand, staring morosely at the raging storm outside and drumming her fingers on the cold leather passenger seat.

Her dad, Joe Morgan, was trying to catch her eye while still watching the road, but wasn't doing too well on either task. She had been resolutely looking the other direction for the last half hour, and twice now he had swerved off the highway completely in his attempts. The silence between them was deafening, but Jenna had no intention of breaking it.

Finally her father coughed. "Jen," he said crisply. "It's going to turn out fine. Just three months, then you can come back if you like." There was no answer. "This is what your mother wanted and I don't mean to let her down."

Eventually Jenna spoke. "You really think mom would have sent me away like this?" Her voice was flat. Empty. Hollow. There was none of the vibrant emotion or lively energy that once defined her. "Mom wouldn't have pushed me away."

"I'm not pushing you away…"

"Then what do you call this?" she asked, turning to face him. "Two hours ago, you told me to pack my things and get in the car. Then you said that I was going to some boarding school for special kids for at least three months. Now you won't tell me where it is or why I'm even going. Why can't I stay at Chelsea Academy?"

"Because there have been too many incidents," he answered, turning his gaze back to the road.

"Incidents that had nothing to do with me."

"They had everything to do with you."

"I told you what happened, but you won't believe me."

"I wonder why that is."

"I'm NOT insane!"

"You could fool me."

Jen started to reply, then stopped. Her usually pale face was now flushed and a tendril of curly black hair had found its way into her mouth. Furiously, she spat it out, rubbed a hand across her stinging eyes and returned to watching the rain. The silence settled once more.

Ten minutes later, they turned off of the highway. She caught only a glimpse of the exit sign, but the words made absolutely no sense to her: Éxodos Pénte, Vóreia Plevrá.She was about to ask her father what it meant, before remembering her resentment. It wasn't until they turned again onto a winding dirt road that curiosity got the better of her.

"What did the sign at the exit mean?"

"What, can't you read?"

"Normal English, yes, but not that gibberish."

His brows contracted in frustration. "That gibberish is normal English. It said 'Exit 5, North Side'. Stop pretending you're illiterate."

She stared at him. Was he messing with her? Somehow it didn't seem likely. He had absolutely no sense of humor since Jenna's mom died. Why kill a two-year streak?

"The sign didn't read that," she said slowly. "It was gibberish, like a completely different language." He slammed on the brakes and the car came to a screeching halt.

"See? This is why you can't stay at Chelsea!" he shouted. Jen would have been mortified about other people hearing him, but the road they were on was silent and deserted. "You seem to see things that aren't really there," he continued, "and hear things that no one else does. Do you think that's normal? Do you think that's okay? Because it's NOT."

He revved the car again, not even waiting to see his daughter's reaction to the outburst. This was probably a good thing. Jenna never wanted people to see her cry like she did now. Especially her dad.