Forgotten

I sat squished between my parents, a fake smile glued to my face as my relatives droned on about jobs and college. “So, Wren, how’s school? Got lots of friends?” my grandmother’s sister asked in a weirdly cheerful tone. 

“Mhm,” I replied, shifting uncomfortably. Slowly, I scooted toward the stairwell, then darted upstairs to my room, searching for a better outfit. I yanked my favorite dress on and dove under the covers, just in case anyone checked on me. My ears perked up at the sound of my mom stomping up the stairs.  

“Wr—” She stopped. Even without seeing her face, I knew she was about to call me out for leaving the table. I held my breath, squeezing my eyes shut.  “Good night, Wren,” she whispered, then tiptoed away. Yes! I thought. I jumped up and fluffed my hair, careful to keep quiet. My closet door creaked as I grabbed my favorite heels. Slipping them on, I shuffled toward my window. Time for the best party ever!

The window groaned as I pried it open. I froze, listening. Nothing. My cold fingers gripped the frame as I climbed up. But the second I tried to jump—  My heel slipped. My hair sprawled all over the grass.

My heart flew as quickly as I did.

With a hurtful thud, I landed on the grass. My mind raced as I quickly patted down my dress and stood up.  "I should get going," I whispered to myself.

I made my way to Kayla’s house, memories swirling in my head.  I was six when I met Kayla at the town ice rink. Kids under nine skated free, and my mom—always looking for a good deal—brought me right when it opened. We never had much money, moving from place to place, hoping for a fresh start. But Kayla? She had lived in Hartford, Vermont, her whole life. Her family seemed... perfect. That day at the rink, she pulled me into her world, telling stories that made even my worst days feel lucky.  

Now, standing outside her house, I pressed the frozen doorbell.  Ding-dong. Once. Twice. A third time. Kayla was always late. Always. Sighing, I knelt down and lifted the doormat. Sure enough, the spare key sat underneath. My fingers trembled from the cold as I slid it into the lock and turned it. Click!

The door creaked open.  

Something felt... off.  

The lights were on, but the house felt dark. Cups and trash littered the floor, but no one was there.  

A lump formed in my throat.  

I had been pranked.  

Hot tears stung my eyes before I even realized I was crying. Not because Kayla wasn’t there. Not because everyone had left. But because I had let myself believe this night would be different from my past.

Step by step, I made my way back home.

The cold cement sidewalks made my walk even lonelier. I decided to travel through the forest behind my house. The forest always brought me bits of comfort in my worst times. My shoes trudged through the mucky forest.

By the time I reached my house, my heart felt heavier than my frozen limbs.  

I had no way back in except through the front door.  

Tears welled up again—not for the prank, but for the lies.  

For lying to my mom.  

For lying to myself.  

And for finally facing the cold, dark truth. 

To be continued...

This is only part 1 to the story! Part 2 will come out soon! Leave suggestions on how to move the story flow better! Email 10418@wpsstudent.com!