No Ordinary Girl

Chapter One

I didn't get a wink of sleep the night before. God, was I exhausted!

Mrs. Adler (or Simone, as I like to call her) was at my house at eight o'clock sharp, glamorous as always in a sleek red dress and tall black heels. I felt unworthy in my worn jeans and grubby t-shirt. She greeted me with a smile, and everyone followed us to the porch. My dad pulled my luggage, and my mother cried (she was actually holding a box of Kleenex).

My little sister, Kylie, was staring down at her hands, refusing to look up at me when I said goodbye. When she finally did, her little chin was quivering, and it completely broke me. I really didn't want to bawl in front of Simone, but I couldn't help myself.

Her sweet little voice tore me to pieces when she choked out, "I'm g-gonna miss you, Anna."

I pulled her in for the biggest hug known to existence. "I'm going to miss you so much, too."

When I finally stood up, my mom was still slobbering into her Kleenex, and my dad was a mess, too. Simone looked uncomfortable. I swallowed and wiped my tears with the heel of my hand.

No more tears.

The driver helped me load my luggage into the back of the car. I hugged both my parents, but didn't linger too long. I didn't want to start crying like a baby again. Then I blew Kylie a kiss and she caught it in her hand, and blew me one back. I caught it and put it in the pocket of my jeans. She smiled so wide, her face practically broke in two. And that was perfect. That was the last image I wanted of her; happy Kylie, not sad Kylie.

We hopped into the fancy black car with the tan leather seats. I rested my guitar case at my feet, fastened my seatbelt and waved goodbye, a huge lump still lodged in my throat. I watched them vanish as we disappeared around the curb of my little suburban street.

"I'm sorry," were the first words out of my mouth. I was so mortified.

Simone reached for a tissue from the console and handed it to me. "Don't be sorry, sweetie. It's perfectly normal to miss your family. You're still so young and you've probably never been away from them before."

"Not really..." I confessed, "except for camp and a few school trips."

She smiled. "You'll be just fine. You'll be great."

Travel arrangements had been discussed with my parents – all I knew was that we'd be flying there. I was psyched because I love flying; I love how the world gets so small right under your eyes, and I love how the clouds look like vanilla cotton candy (is there such a thing as vanilla cotton candy?) When my mother told me I'd be flying, she had that gleam in her eye, the same one she has when she has a surprise for me. I had no clue what that was all about until...

We got there and this was not O'Hare airport. It was an airport all right, but much smaller, with smaller airplanes. My heart hammered against my ribcage wildly as the car narrowed down the small road to the building.

Simone turned to me with a sly smile. "I always travel by private charter. It's the only way to go."

I followed her eagerly into the building like a little puppy. I wanted to pull my own luggage but the driver insisted. He looked kind of funny, pulling a pink flower covered bag.

"Take a seat," Simone urged, pointing to the sitting area with a fancy coffee station. I stared at the magazines and mints on the coffee table, and pinched myself.

Two pilots inched their way closer and we were quickly introduced; Roger and Emily – a lady pilot. Very cool.

Roger wheeled my luggage and we followed them to the plane, which was sitting on the tarmac waiting just for us; yep, just us two. How crazy is that?!

I stood for a few seconds, staring at the sleek plane. I still couldn't believe it.

Someone pinch me.

I climbed up the stairs, my guitar on my back, as eager as a kid at an amusement park. The plane was all tan leather and sleek shiny black walls. Simone made herself comfortable across from me and showed me how to buckle up. We both had window seats (of course), but I was all about the cockpit right in front of me. The pilots went through the safety instructions, but I was too riled up to hear a word. I was pretending to listen, but I just couldn't settle my mind down. They gave us bottled water, and offered us snacks.

And they had Pringles!

I was eating my Pringles and staring out the window when it hit me. There I was, twenty thousand feet up in the air, on a private jet. I knew this was it – there was no going back now. Full scholarship, private jet... I knew I had to measure up, to prove myself. I figured this must be what pro athletes feel like when they sign multi-million dollar contracts.

Pressure much?!

But it was okay. I knew I would be fine.

We hopped into another fancy black car and I tried to calm my heartbeat by looking at the scenery. Maine is beautiful. My mom told me it would be, and she was right.

Simone was excited, too. I could feel the exhilaration coming off her. She was like a kid who finds a four leaf clover. I just hoped this clover didn't lose one of its leaves.

We turned into a long winded tree lined drive, the kind fancy mansions in the country have. As we traveled closer to our destination under the canopy of lush trees, my heartbeat's jog sped to a full sprint.

And hot damn, there it was, in all its glory.

RAMS.

The Renaissance Academy of Mentalist Studies.

And I was there because of Calista. It had all started with her.