Keep on beating

Have you heard about the new people in town? Word is that there coming after the teenagers in the town. But that's not news to me. After all, I've been running from these creatures all my life.

She thought she was finally safe. Now they've found her again.

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4. Delinquency 101

"What're you thinking about, Fi?" Sandra, my new foster mother, inquired, glancing over at me, then back to the road.

I sighed, deliberately ignoring her. We had been discussing this for the past week that I had been living with the Danvers an I knew that she knew exactly what I was thinking about and why this led to me moping.

"Look, there's nothing you can do about it now," she said, desperately trying to get me to see the bright side of my situation, if there even was one, "both your social worker and decided that this would be the best option for you, given your previous records."

If she was attempting to cheer me up, she was failing. Miserably. I didn't need or want to go to a school for teenage delinquents, as I was sure that they would be. I had enough of my time cut out in trying to look after normal people, let alone stupid, reckless ones. Not that Sandra knew that. Not that anyone could ever know that. And I was back to thinking about my depressing life. Oh joy of joys.

Why is it that whenever you are trying to keep your mind of something, you always return to that fact? I could tell that my life from her forward would not be enjoyable. I don't know how I knew it, sometimes I can just feel things. Know things. Just another thing on my long list of what made me a weirdo, as I would be forever. Out the car window, I could see the beginnings of turrets of some kind of mansion house.

"Look," exclaimed Sandra happily, "there's your new school, the building with the turrets!"

Great. So now it was a posh school for delinquents.

"I'm not even going to pretend to be happy about this, you do realise that, don't you?" I replied shortly.

Sandra glared at me, patently miffed with my all too apparent displeasure at my situation. I could see the masked hurt and almost felt sorry that I was acting this way but it was the way it had to be. I couldn't let anyone get close to me. Even so, what I'd said did seem a bit harsh. Mentally, I sighed with resignation.

"Look, Sandra, I'm sorry but you can't force me to do something I don't want to do and expect me to be happy about it. It's just not the way it works." I stated, regret evident in my voice.

"I know, sweetie, but it's what's best for you, not what you want." she crooned, equal regret evident in her voice, "If your past had been different, we might not be in this situation but, really you brought this upon yourself."

As she finished speaking, we turned into a driveway with a huge sign stating 'Queen Vict ria's Seco dar  Sch ol  or Problem     Children' on a large blue board to one side of the road, leading up to a pair of huge cast iron security gates.

"Classy." I remarked sarcastically.

Sandra gave me a look which caused me to shut me mouth on the other observations I was going to verbalise, a lot of them to do with what a prison-like feel it had to. Instead, I resigned myself to the fact that nothing I could say would change my situation. I knew it, she knew but it didn't mean that I had to be happy about it. Sometimes life seemed so unfair. It seems to me that the best people always get the worst luck. I've spent my whole life trying to save the people around me and how am I rewarded? I spend the rest of my time abhorring the company of other people. And now I have to pretend like I'm some kind of idiot who has to do stupid things to be secure. Great.

Finally, the car drew to a stand-still at the end of an extrordinarily long drive way. Looking up at the stark grey building, I felt a sense of doom spread right the way through my body right from my head to my toes. Slightly unnerved, I tried to shake it of; somehow it wouldn't leave. Trying not to let my dipleasure show on my face, sullenly, I clambered out of the car to stand in front of my depressing new school.

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