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Chapter 3
    Colorful styles and pictures to doom
    After that class I found out that Cali and I shared all the same classes. And hallelujah for that, because she’s been giving me conselhos and tips throughout the beginning of the day, and I stuck to her like glue.
    The mais I got to know I realized that she wasn’t all that perky, it’s just in the morning because she has too much coffee. por the time lunch rolled around I was practically shaking.
    “No need to be scared huney,” Cali said, a tinge of a southern accent in there as she looped our arms. “You can sit with me and my friends.”
    I nodded my gratitude and followed her to a mesa, tabela filled with some kids, holding my lunch tray. They all looked up when Cali and I approached, and I held in the urge to turn around and run away, but they continued what they were doing when we sat down and I let out a breath of relief.
    Now trust me, I can be pretty scary, my father is Marcus pique, lúcio Connor the genius who hasn’t been caught once. I even looked the part of my intimidating presence, with my black jacket, pants, t-shirt, and biker boots, but I always melt into a wimp when it comes to seating arrangements and friends.
    You see, practically every school has a social hierarchy, I’ve been to enough schools to see walking clichés. Even in the high school cafeteria, I could distinguish who was ‘hot’ and who was ‘not’. Trust me, schools like theses are known as the one chance schools, I dub them as doomsday/cliques schools , because you get one chance to be popular, and one mistake to lose it all.
    I try not to ogle the popular crowd, which there so easy to distinguish because their table’s are always crowded with wannabes and people who kiss the ground they walk on (butt kissers, my friends). Than there’s the poplar’s themselves, always gorgeous people and sometimes nice and caring ones. But from the looks they have on while examining me, the new girl, something tells me there all evil.
    “Danger alert, the soul sucking black holes are looking at ya,” a boy says giving me a cheeky grin, as he nods in their direction, not caring if he sees them pointing it out.
    “Just ignore them, there just looking to see if you’re a threat,” another boy says, his chocolate leite skin brightening his warm brown eyes.
    “How would I be a threat?” I managed to say gazing at Cali, looking away from his memorizing eyes.
    Cali rolled her eyes, “you know, new favorito student, knew most liked kid, new hottie. Don’t stress, they always act like this when a new kid comes to town.”
    “They just can’t stand being number two,” a girl with an accent that I couldn’t yet identify said. “Enough said let’s get the introductions started.”
    The first boy who talked nodded, “Yeah I’m Donald, but please call me Donnie.” Donnie paused but continued when I nodded. “That’s Xavier right there,” he pointed at the boy with the eyes. “Lara,” he pointed at the girl with platinum blonde hair.
“You know Cali, of course.”
    “America is still getting food, warning… she has really red hair, don’t point it out and don’t stare at it too long or feel her wrath.” When I gave him a strange look, his mouth quirked into a smile. “It’s dyed, and she get’s really crazy defensive when it comes to her hair.”
    I nodded and he went on, “Gregori,” he pointed at a boy with raven dark hair. “And last but not least Corrie and Cory, brother and sister, twins,” he pointed to a azedar, azedo looking girl and boy, one had freckles while the other didn’t, and they both had different eye colors.
    The girl had rebelliously dyed her hair in tons of different colors, all in dark colors, blue, green, pink, red, black, blonde. On anyone else it would have looked weird, on her she looked wicked. Her brother had dark brown, which I guessed was Corrie’s original hair color.
    “I know what your thinking,” The girl, Corrie said, her voice very high and perky, unlike her appearance. “What parent names their kids, let alone twins, with homophones like Corrie and Cory. Believe it or not, or parents thought it would be cute…ugh, how I shudder.”
    “Hey! I’m not that bad!” Said an insulted Cory.
    Corrie rolled her eyes, “please I’ve been sharing the same room with you and I still can’t see the ground.”
    “I amor you sis,” Cory said, ruffling her hair.
    Corrie shrieked. “My hair you imbecile! It takes hours to do this hooligan! Now I have to fix this idiot!” Cory sighed as he stared up at the ceiling, “and you call that offensive language,” he turned to face her, “girl please.”
    Corrie glared while Cory grinned. Right there I could see the resemblance between the two, even with their trying so hard not to look alike. They had the staring contests with those facial expressions until a voice interrupted.
    “If you guys keep doing that your face will stay like it,” a girl said with fiery red hair said and I immediately knew it was America. I could also tell that her hair use to be blonde, it was a trick father taught me about observing every little detail and some of the strands of hair she had were blonde, which meant the dye was wearing off. I quickly looked to her eyes, remembering Donnie’s advice.     They were a nice mellow brown, but I totally thought they’d be startling forest green, like Cali’s, but they were a resembled rich light brown syrup, just as warm and sweet. America turned her gaze to me, “so you’re the fresh meat, huh?”
    “Ignore her,” Donnie said grinning at me, “but be warned.”
    “Guys!” Cali scolded, “this town is not that bad.”
    “I can’t believe you can still say that after we saw that creep in the woods.”
    Automatically at those words every part of me just froze, I managed to calm my quivering voice just enough to spit out. “What?”
    “It was nothing,” Cali insisted.
    America snorted. “Yeah sure,” she turned to me. “So we were having this camp til midnight thing, we weren’t going to really spend the whole night in the forest at this town, anyway it was around the time we were doing our campfire songs, when all of a sudden we hear these…gunshots, I think.”
    “Yeah, and then this man is like, covered in blood running and we managed to take a few pictures, but we only got his side and his back.”
    “But,” America continued. “I think I remember seeing a faca on him, and I think he’s in his forties.”
    42, to be exact, I thought stunned at her good eyesight and predictions. “Why didn’t you send them to the police?”
    “We sent the pic of his back to polly,” Donnie said. “But not the side.”
    My mouth felt extremely dry as I asked quietly, “Why?”
    “Because…we just…there’s really no explanation of why we did it, we just did.”
    “It felt like the right thing to do, I printed the side picture from my computer so I could eliminar the one on my phone.” America explained.
    I nodded, feeling like my whole world was coming down, something bad always has to happen at a place that I just moved to. They have a picture of my father, and if America was that observant can she see similarities in me? Will the police actually take me away from father? Will Azerien and I be safe?
    “Hey, Autumn, you okay?” Cali asked, looking at me worriedly.
    Shaking my head out of that state, I smiled my best fake smile yet and said, “yeah, just spooked of the thought that this place is green and deadly.”
    The guys laughed, and I felt a surge of happiness through me, like I belonged here. It was the feeling I’d always get when Azerien would comfort me, or father would smile warmly at me, or when they both would occasionally say, I amor you, the words that to them was weakening and a waste of breathe. I felt loved, I felt important, and I felt as if they were my family. Nothing bad’s going to happen at the moment, I just have to let go.
    Let go of the worries that comes with being a Connor, forgetting every single care that I’ve held on for so long. My father wasn’t going to ruin my first dia of school, with my first lunch with my new friends. This was my life, not his, and I’ll do what I want.
    I’m Summer Johnson Seraries, not Zyanna Connor. Here in this school, I’m a different person than the one I am at home, I should have nothing to fear about a man I don’t know. So I cast away all my worries, I didn’t think of how my new friends were a threat, and how if the time came to it father would kill them. Because something told me they weren’t going to let him go, no, something told me this was just the beginning of war between a murderer and his-soon-to be victims. And soon I’d probably be torn, but I had just found them, and I wasn’t going to let my father ruin this moment.
    So I just became Summer for the day, not Zyanna, and I had nothing to worry about.