A Symphony of Devotion: The Start [Demi Lovato]

[2] Apophasis

The next day, I see the new girl again. I'm seated in my usual seat on the right of the classroom when the normally empty chair beside me scrapes back noisily and the sound of a bag dropping onto the floor pierces my ears through the rowdy din of the classroom.

"Hey," the voice greets me softly. "Can I sit here? The other seats are taken."

I nod. My hood is up and my hands are shielding my face, so I doubt she knows who I am, but I'm not taking any chances.

Today's been a bad day. More than the usual. I just can't stop thinking about the conversation I've had with my dad yesterday.

I went home, walked into my dad's office as the butler had told me to, and found some planner dude and my older brother drawing out plans for my birthday.

I deducted, from the sketches and notes on the board, that it was going to be typically the same party as planned every year. Huge ass party, guests in fancy dresses that I don't know -most of them my parents' friends-, my cousins come over, there's dances, while I sit at a table, smile, laugh, pretend I'm having fun, and accept dances from old men who creep me out.

So I was just sitting at the table, listening more to the music playing in my ear than them explaining the drawings they were doing on the board, which was nothing more than slight changes to the normal anyway.

Apparently, they wanted me to make a grand entrance from the top of the grand staircase down because it's my 'big sixteenth birthday'.

As far as I knew, there was going to be some sort of meeting, socializing thingy downstairs with wine and appetisers, and in the ballroom there'll be dancing and real food.

The guest list: My parents' business partners, their friends, and random high up people they find necessary to invite. Also, my brother's friends.

I was fine with that.

Right until my dad walked in, caught sight of the board, took a marker, and wrote on the guest list, "ALL OF KENZIE'S NEW FRIENDS AND CLASSMATES".

I sat up, focused and ready to argue, until I caught sight of my dad's expression.

"Kenzie," he said, straightening his suit jacket. "You're okay with this, right? I'm sure you'd love to have your new friends over for your birthday. After all, it was because of you that we moved here and had to leave Britain. Will there be a problem?"

I swallowed. "No, Dad."

"So, you'll get friends?"

"Yeah, Dad. I'll invite as many as I can," I responded.

His smile held a tint of cold satisfaction. "Good. It will be a pleasure to see your friends at the party." Then the smile drooped a little. "Dismissed."

Think goldfish, I reminded myself, as I ran out of the room. He's the hole. He's gone now. No hole. No need for tape.

I repeated those words in my mind, again and again, until I reached my room and collapsed into my bed. My brother found me a minute later, and proceeded to hug and comfort me until I'd calmed down.

But despite his seemingly cool demeanor, I knew the accusation behind my dad's calm words, and it bugged me all that time until now.

It's my fault. My fault we moved. My fault we had to adjust to a whole new environment. My fault I can't make friends. My fault.. My fault..

I'm pulled out of my thoughts when a worksheet is placed before me by my English teacher and I see a lone teardrop staining the paper.

I stare uncomprehendsively at the first question, then glance at the heading of the worksheet.