I always knew CoraLisa was different. Little did I know by how MUCH. I mean, while the rest of the class turned to drink and drugs to escape from the chaos at home, she sought solace in music. CLASSICAL music.
As if THAT wasn’t bad enough, she was also addicted to goth. Like, really, REALLY obsessed. I’ve only been inside her house once, but it was enough for me to realize that there was something seriously wrong with the place.
Her room is this dreary dungeon with black wallpaper and creepy posters all over. Even her GARDEN ha this fiendish vibe surrounding it. It didn’t grown colored roses, or fragrant jasmines or even plain ol’ snowdrops, but housed dozens and dozens of pumpkins. PUMPKINS!! They blanketed every inch of the ground, covering the dewy grass with its withered flesh.
And you know what was REALLY weird?? The pumpkins were WHITE [and about the only things surrounded by CoraLisa’s fence that wasn’t either noir or a dark shade of gray. Even her DOG was coated with spooky dark fur]. It was WAY eerie.
Rumor has it that Cora [that’s what her close friends -I mean, her close FRIEND- call her] has never worn anything except ebony hued clothes. For once, I strongly believe rumor is right.
I joined Washington high a month ago as a foreign exchange student. Of course, nobody was particularly welcoming. Except for CoraLisa.
Let me rephrase that; I FORCED Cora to be kind to me.
You see, everyone else was way to high up the social ladder to be seen hanging out with some sickly Spanish kid. Everyone was either a jock, or a rich kid or a super model’s offspring. Everyone other than Cora.
Cora is your typical loner. She divides her time at home between viola lessons and doing college level math sums [or so she told me], which is definitely not a popular set of hobbie among her classmates.
And probably the reason why the net total number of her friends is 2; Her fish, Pythagoras, and ME. Boring, European, unfashionably ME. Well, I’m pretty sure she was my friends only because she didn’t want to be rude and tell me to shove off.
Since Day 1, I lathed onto her like a leach, figuring that this was my only chance at making a buddy. We actually had a lot in common, you know??
Social rejects?? That’s us!!
Cracked-up family?? Check!!
Somewhat wacko?? Is that even a question??
After about a week of trailing after her like a little puppy dog, I sensed a bond forming. Like, a real connection. Too bad I was wrong. Totally, utterly, horrifically wrong.
To be continued…