Random Knigghts by Dennitra Lomax (crime books to read TXT) 📖

Chapter 1
Dear Diary,
Today is just like any other day; mom got up at 6am to get ready to go to work at our crap town restaurant, while David rested two more hours to tend to every person whose wooden objects were breaking down. Which is a lot because our whole town seems to be made of nothing but old wood. Our town is the kind of town where everyone knows everyone, everyone is kind to everyone, yet everyone talks about each other. Do you have any idea how annoying it is to not be able to keep a secret out of the air of such a small, hokey town as ours? However, there is light at the end of the tunnel, because some secrets remain hidden from the outside world. Such a secret as mine.
I'd better get ready for school, I wouldn't want to be late and draw any unwanted attention to myself. Like walking into class after the bell’s already sounded, everyone's eyes locked on the person who had the audacity to walk in late. Why is that? Why does everyone shift their attention to the person who walked through the door unexpectedly? Are people really that nosey? Well, at least they will not be staring at me at that particular moment, I get stares all day, everyday. I guess it's the way I dress; do my beat up converse scare people away? Does my black mascara make people nervous? My entire wardrobe both draws attention to myself while sets me apart from everyone else. It doesn't bother me anymore, you kind of get used to something when you've endured it your entire life. People in this town assume that we all should dress alike, act alike, and talk alike, but why? Maybe I don't want to be like everyone else? Is that so wrong? Maybe I don't want to wear overalls or something else that begins with the word 'jean' everyday.
So I throw on my favorite pair of Levis, with a black t-shirt, along with my (often worn) black converse and head toward the door to get to class. While walking to school, I realized just how odd I look to everyone else. It's freaking 100 degrees, everyone is wearing shorts or something in the shorts family, and here I am wearing jeans and all black. I'm not saying that I'm immune to the sun's rays; I'm just saying that I have pale, white skin that really stands out in the sea of sunburned 'tans.' I’m still amazed at the fact that I’ve lived here my entire life, and have not gotten so much as a skin tone change from the blazing sun. It's bad enough that I stand out already, but my pasty skin just adds to the alienation towards me. So, I'm going to wear what is in my comfort zone: jeans. I also realized that our town is so small that everything is in walking distance from everything else. You could be at the edge of the city, and walk to any place in town within minutes, it's pretty sad. I'm almost certain that no one outside of our small town is even aware that it exists.
When walking through the halls, I did my everyday routine. Walk through the crowd, of jean-suit wearing classmates, with my head tilted down to be sure of no direct eye contact with anyone. Call me crazy, but I feel uncomfortable staring into the eyes of people who think nothing but bad thoughts of me. I don't need to see their faces, or the expressions they hold, to know exactly what they’re thinking: why is she so strange, why does she only wear jeans, what's with all of the black; the list goes on and on yet never really varies. I get through a crowd pretty easily though. No one wants to touch the weird girl, so they all move quickly out of my way when I come into close proximity to them. It's kind of cool. It's like I have the ability to part the red sea, like Moses, only my red sea consists of dull, country folk. After I got to my locker, I grabbed my book for first period, Algebra II. I'm not too bad at math, but I hate the class because the teacher insists on participation and isn't shy to always ask me to participate. I dislike anyone who draws even more attention to myself, also, I know she does it to me on purpose. She punishes me any chance she gets because I think she assumes I’m a Wicken, a witch. What gives her the idea that I am a Wicken? It possibly has something to do with all of the black that I wear, and how I stand out like a weed in a sea of beautiful flowers. I'm sure she's pretty religious, considering she's the town preacher and all. I'm not quite sure how Christianity and Math go hand in hand, but our town’s limited on staff so I guess anyone can be a teacher.
After walking into Algebra class I found comfort in being the first student, as always, and took my assigned seat in the center of class. I fought pretty hard on the first few days of this class to sit in the back of the room; however the teacher had it out for me so my weak attempts were useless. I'm sure she found it hilarious to put me in the center of the room, exposed for everyone to look at me without me even noticing. As if there were a moment everyone weren't looking at me. But after many months, I got used to my seat and although I can't say the seat in the back of the room doesn't look way more appealing than my center seat, I deal with it. After getting settled, I pulled out my book to the chapter we would be working on. As soon as I turned to page 142, the warning bell sounded and the frenzy to get into class before the final bell sounds has begun. I imagine this is how roaches look when the lights have been turned on, everyone scattering everywhere, pure chaos. I wouldn't be caught dead scattering along with everyone else, them running to class while dodging any contact with me at the same time. To avoid that, I prefer to get to class a tad bit early and miss out on the sprinting event. Once the final bell rang and the frenzy ceased, class was full and ready to begin.
In walked my math teacher, Mr.'s Chambers, wearing all white as though it were Halloween and she were dressed up as an angel. Then again, she always looked so angelic; she even glides across the floor as if she were floating. Now if only she were kind, because she definitely had the look down, everything about her appearance screams saint, until she speaks. "Good morning sinners," she bellows, in a deep, raspy voice that doesn't match her angelic appearance at all.
"Good Morning," we all say in a chipper voice, only everyone else's was heartfelt and mine was forced. I'm all for Christianity and I understand that we all sin, but you should never call anyone a sinner and act as though it were a pet name or nick name. But, I guess I'm the only one who feels this way because all of my fellow classmates were used to this greeting from Mr.'s Chambers. You'd think that after years of knowing her, I’d be used to her blunt, dry humor. Or whatever it is, but I'm not, and I'm tired of pretending that I am. After rolling my eyes, I prepare myself for the torture I’m sure to endure this class period.
"Miss Cambridge! Surely, you are not sleeping in my class?"
"Of course not Mrs. Chambers." I reply, in a monotone voice, to hide my irritation. How could she have thought I was sleeping, when I was looking at her through-out the entire lesson? This is exactly why I cannot stand this lady! She goes out of her way to make a scene, especially when I’m the spectacle of it all.
"Well, now that you are done with your cat nap, you can approach the board and attempt to complete these equations," she states, in a sarcastic voice.
"With pleasure Mrs. Chambers," I say, sarcastically as well, gritting my teeth the entire walk to the front of the class. She didn't call on me to see if I could actually solve the equations, because she already knows that I can, and with ease. She did this to humiliate me, as she often does, and watch me squirm like a fish out of water. As much as I’d love to prove her wrong, to be completely at ease with all of the attention on me, I can't help but feed her exactly what she wants. I can feel everyone's eyes locked on the back of my neck, digging into it like needles, and it feels as though I just might have an anxiety attack from it all. I doubt that I’ve ever moved so quickly in my life, the chalk moved so rapidly in my shaky grip.
After solving the equations, I place the chalk back in it's rightful place and go to take mine. Although I was walking much too fast through the narrow rows, I somehow made it to my chair without skipping a beat. While I attempted to compose my heartbeat, Mrs. Chambers reviewed my work, with such intensity it seemed she’d forgotten there were a class in progress. After she found no errors in my rushed work, she decided to include the rest of the class in the review.
“Can anyone see any errors in Miss Cambridge's' equations?"
Everyone skimmed over the equations, or pretended to, and shook their heads after finding nothing.
"Well then, good job on doing something right Miss Cambridge."
She exhaled in a defeated, but still pompous tone. She then walked up to the board and erased the equations only to write more, and my entire body went numb when I fathom the thought of having to experience that humiliation yet again. While my already pale skin shaded to an even more pale white, I hadn't realized Mrs. Chambers called on another potential victim to complete the next equations. I looked up and saw the head cheerleader Sarah, looking very much confused as she walked toward Mrs. Chambers, and felt so relieved that it was her turn and not mine. She can take the embarrassment, because when she's embarrassed it's cute and not annoying or awkward like with me.
The sound of the bell ending first period seemed to lift an invisible weight off my shoulders and triggered my eager paced walk toward the exit. Once I stepped foot out of the door, I could breathe again and go on with the rest of the day as I usually did, or so I thought. While on my way to my locker to retrieve my Spanish II book, I felt a bit odd, as if something were different, or off. I attempted to ignore the feeling and carry on toward my locker, but I stumbled over something in the process. Luckily I caught myself before I fell flat on my face, but I saw that it was a backpack that nearly broke my neck! I raised my head, giving the owner of this backpack my death stare, but I noticed her eyes didn’t meet mine, which really sucked because my death stare was lethal enough to scare her pants right off. I was annoyed