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Hollis wandered the hallway, her fingers trailing over the walls. The brick felt warm in comparison to her icy fingers, but she only continued her action. She was supposed to be in class. She had promised Florencia that she wouldn't do this again, but she sincerely couldn't help it. Her eyes fell over the warmly colored-in pictures that were plastered against the sides of the building. She had just begun to observe a picture, when a drawl of a voice interrupted her musings.

"Shouldn't you be in class?"

She didn't turn around immediately, soaking in the last bits of the picture. Finally, she slowly circled so that she met the brown eyes of a teacher. His hair was white and disheveled, and there were stress lines marring his forehead. His eyes were framed by short lashes, and little bits of fat covered his sagging skin. He looked old, but not wise. Just bitter and cynical. She didn't bother answering his question, just staring at her schedule. English.

"Are you new?" he tried again, seeing the lost look in her eyes. There was no fear, as he would expect of a do-gooder, but there was no confidence either. It was just a shockingly, disturbing neutral. But for some reason, he didn't threaten to report her. He just slipped the schedule from her hands, not even an ounce of protest from her lips. She just stared. "You have English." He laughed, not at all surprised, "In my class." His eyes fell on her name. Hollis Denver. "Well, Hollis, follow me."

He turned, entering a door that was barely three feet away. Hollis leisurely followed, her hands empty and not a book in her messenger bag. She was met with a class doing class work. They were all in deep concentration, but some glanced up when she entered. Furrowed eyebrows and rapidly, tapping pencils met her senses. She easily took off her bag and laid it on the teacher's desk. She yet knew his name.

"I know I already told you," the elderly man spoke, leaning against his desk, "but this is not quiz or test. But it will be graded. You have five minutes." The worn sound of pencils scribbling against paper hastened, and Hollis stared blankly at her teacher. He gestured to an empty seat in the back. "Go ahead, make yourself comfortable."

She grabbed her bag and languidly walked to the back of the classroom. She savored every step. Hollis was a type of person that liked to take things incredibly slow. Even her heart pumped in slow motion, and she felt like she was watching through the eyes of another person. She could feel everything around her. The soft whispers of cheaters, the itch of a girl two seats behind her, the gaze of a student. She liked to feel, as well. She dangled her fingers against the rough desks, and pulled away when she reached her seat.

Once the papers were handed up the row, the old man straightened. "We apparently have a new student," he said with a strained smirk. He was too old to smirk. "She was found loitering by the lockers." The students snickered, but Hollis refused to see what was funny. She stared blankly at the wall. "Hollis, would you like to say anything about yourself?"

It took her about ten seconds to process the request. Then, she slowly licked her lips, before replying in withery voice, "No."

The students stared at her in shock. A brown-haired girl leaned over with wide eyes. "Mr. Steinbeck isn't the nicest guy out there. If I were you, I would change your answer." But the girl wasn't her, and the girl wouldn't be able to understand why Hollis said no. But she knew she was being rebellious and hard to handle, as Mr. Peters had quoted two years ago, and she decided to be a little more bearable. For Florencia. And Gabriel.

"My name," she said with a clear of her throat, "is Hollis Denver. I abhor the subject English, and if I had a choice, I would extirpate it from the curriculum." Hollis paused, "Thank you."

At least it was better than nothing. But Mr. Steinbeck didn't look angry at all, in fact, he looked thoroughly amused. "That makes two of us, Hollis." He turned away from the gaping students and tapped the board. "Alright, notebooks out. We'll be starting Hamlet today . . ."

But Hollis was already dozing off. Her chin was gripped by her hand as she continued to observe the wall. It was white and reminded her of the hospital. She remembered when she had broken her leg. The pain had been frightening, but she hadn't said much. Gabriel had been crying. She followed the swirls of cream with her eyes, and felt her eyelids drooping. She felt the buzz of sleep drowning her, but felt her eyes slowly open when something barely touched her back. She hadn't jolted physically, but she felt surprise swarm her. Her reaction was delayed as she turned around a minute later to see a paper ball lying on the edge of her seat.

With dead eyes, she looked up to see two boys in the back, muffling their snickers into their arms. It had been a spit ball. She caught the eye of the one on the right, and his smile slowly faded away. Something about her scared him, she knew. He nudged his friend in the arm, and suddenly they were quiet. She brushed the spit ball off her seat with her fingers, before turning to the right side. Sleep had successfully escaped her grasp, and she couldn't catch it again.

It was going to be a long day.

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Hollisfelt the strange urge for Italian food. But as usual, her cravings were merely waved off, and she settled for the white, lumpy goop that Florencia called, 'Cream of Mushroom.' She swallowed a spoonful, before staring at the hardwood of the table. She liked how there were different swirls in the wood, and though unattractive, it was interesting to trace with her eyes. She was sitting at an empty table, the one all the way in the corner. Hollis Denver didn't mind though. She never did.

"Yo, yo, yo, what you doing, sitting at our table and all?"

Hollis was staring at the cafeteria table, and hadn't realized that the rough and tough voice was speaking to her specifically. Her eyes finally drifted from the wood to see a tall, black specimen with an afro, staring at her with wide, hazel eyes. Chains dangled from his neck, and he sported a white wife beater and a beard. She stared into his almond eyes, and noticed the easy going look he was giving her. A definite comedian.

She noticed a couple guys behind him, and stared straight into his eyes, and then continued scooping up the glop she called her lunch. Afro-dude looked taken aback, before he shrugged and plopped into his seat. The guys murmured, put-off, but took their usual seats. "You know, my man Clay sits where you sit, and he might not be too happy when he sees some skinny ass, white girl sitting in his seat."

Hollis didn't even glance at him as she continued to chew on the mushrooms. Or, at least, she thought they were mushrooms. They tasted unbearably sour. "Hey, white girl, you listening to me?" He snapped a couple fingers in her face, her eyes finally meeting his own, unblinking. He suddenly rolled his eyes, "A'right. That's fine, you's a bit quiet." He rubbed his chin, before taking a inhumane bite out of his hamburger.

At least three minutes passed, until a jock pointed at her with a large grin on his face, "Hey! I know you! Aren't you from my English class? You're that new girl!" He waited for a response, but Hollis wasn't even staring at him. She was drawing patterns in her soup. Her mouth felt numb, but her stomach grumbled for more. "Yo, she's mad freaky ass. Steinbeck asked her to talk about herself and she was all, 'Nah man.'" His supposed whisper sounded like normal chatter, and his supposed normal chatter sounded like a yell.

"What the hell are you doing in my seat?"

The question slithered up her spine and rested itself comfortably around her shoulders. She felt her entire body tense, before she released a puff of air. She didn't even turn to see how this Clay looked like. She just wanted to finish her creamy mushroom soup, and exit the cafeteria. But her body immediately started when a rough hand landed on her shoulder and turned her around. She was met with angry, green eyes. His hair was dark and cut short, and he looked like he could slit one's throat in a second. But Hollis felt no fear, just the mind-numbing indifference she had felt since the beginning of time.

"Did you hear what I said, or should I repeat myself?" He gritted his teeth, and Hollis just locked eyes, not flinching.

"Whoa man, don't be too rough now," the comedian from across defensively said, raising from his seat. "She's a girl."

"I don't care if she's my fairy fucking godmother, James, I want her the hell out of my seat." With that, he pushed her out of his way, and slumped into his seat. He shoved her lunch away, and Hollis just rubbed the side of her arm that had been scratched. He was watching her reaction, but she just took her soup and easily closed the cover. She neatly folded the spoon into the napkin, before tucking the uneaten apple back in her sack. She pulled her weightless messenger bag over her shoulder, before exiting the cafeteria doors promptly.

"What the hell's wrong with that girl?" Clay asked, a fierce snarl atop his lips. He looked at his friend, watching him shrug, surprised to see a little distaste laden in his eyes. "What?"

At James' wince, he explained, "She didn't even do anything, Clay."

"So?"

James shook his head, and the conversation was over.

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Florencia was not in the kitchen when Hollis came home. She placed a hand over her heart to feel the accelerated pulse. Florencia was always home. She ran her palm gently over the fridge, and felt thin paper. She turned to see broken English written on the sheet. Will be back much soon. Gabriel sick. Just like that, Hollis dropped to the ground and cradled her knees. She rocked against the floor, just staring blankly at the wall. She wasn't crying, and Florencia had joked long ago that Hollis' tear ducts were dried up.

Three hours passed when Florencia returned, the warm smell of bread entering the small house. All the lights were turned off, so Florencia fumbled with the light switch to see Hollis on the kitchen floor. She was scraping her fingernails against the tile, and Florencia sighed softly. "Poor girl," she whispered, before reaching out her soft hand for Hollis. "Come." With that, Hollis grabbed the tips of Florencia's fingers and helped herself up. "Let us eat, no?"

The elderly woman pressed a soft, gray curl behind her ear before opening the cupboards. They were all empty. She ventured to the rusted fridge, opening it to find a couple jars of pickles and a tub of milk. There were two loaves of bread, but Hollis knew those were for Gabriel. When he came home, Florencia made him the very best food. Hollis was watching quietly, and she expected the woman to continue her search, but instead, she walked over to the sofa. She pulled out a cushion, before placing a hand into the inward curve of the seat. She pulled out a ten dollar bill.

"Food," Florencia whispered. She walked to Hollis and embraced her. "Go. You are too thin." She ran a hand over Hollis' ribs that seemed to jut out of the girl's body. "Too thin." With that, she handed her very own jacket, and opened the door.

Hollis paused for a moment, before softly pressing her dry lips against her grandmother's cheek. Thank you.

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The lights of the shopping center were bright. Hollis had to squint her eyes as she walked through the aisles, the smells and sounds exciting her. A little girl was wailing for her mother, and a seven year old beside her was pulling boxes of cake into her arms. "Tell mom you want this!" he ordered her forcefully, and she stared at him in confusion, momentarily stopping her wails. Hollis slipped through one aisle, and started placing cold-cuts in her shopping cart.

It wasn't that Florencia wasn't able to provide for her. They received money monthly. But it was still difficult. Hollis found her cart only stacked with ham, cheese, juice, and a couple other necessities. She passed through another aisle, and stopped abruptly when something caught her eye. It's eyes were sculpted of glass, and its smile was twisted painfully. Lashes drooped lazily over it's lids, and Hollis felt her heartbeat accelerating. It was beautiful, but when she checked the tag, it was too much. She walked away.