Singling Out Sable: Boardan High novel, #1

To my biggest supporter, my Dewdrop

Laugh

As much as you breathe

And

Love

As long as you

Live

~ Author unknown

The Links:

Website: http://kelseyelisesparrow.com

Facebook & Twitter: @kelseyesparrow

TikTok & all other social media: @kelseyelisesparrow

Also by Kelsey Elise Sparrow:

The Norton Sisters (complete)

Rayna’s Peace, Zoie’s Purpose, Nyema, A Secret for Christmas, Chyra, Lynnia, Wynter, Happy Holidays or Not

Stephanie Daniels Duet:

An Author’s Tale, An Author’s Conclusion – TBA

Boardan High

Singling Out Sable, Justice for Jenna, Mean Girls – TBA

Whiskey Sweet Novels

Whiskey’s One True Wish (Intro), A Whiskey Sweet Promise, A Whiskey Sweet Treat, A Whiskey Sweet Revelation - TBA

Inked to the Max

Kentucky Running, Paper Lipstick (Intro), Maximum Velocity

Brighton Royals novels

His Coveted (intro), Pretty Petty Princess – TBA

Mafia Romance

Triple Check, Peace of Italy – Coming soon

Properties of Magic

A Witchling’s Wicked Game (Intro), A Witch’s Last Hope (Prologue) - TBA

Once Upon a Crime

The Red I See – TBA

Anthology

Naughty Knights

Chapter 1

Nobody

I’m nobody. I’ve been nobody. I will probably always be a nobody. I have been standing here in this hallway exactly five steps from our fair Princ-i-pal Scott, Jonathon Scott, with no acknowledgement. How do I know the principal’s first name, one might ask? I do because the dorkwad tells everyone that he meets.

Hi, I’m Principal Scott, Jonathon Scott.

It’s one of the saddest things that I’ve ever witnessed. I should know sad since I see it in the mirror every morning. I probably wouldn’t have as much of an issue with my self-esteem if I didn’t find myself tortured every living, breathing moment of my life.

My name is Sable Hannah Turner, and I am the lost cause of this school. I am the one that no one notices. I am practically half naked, standing in the middle of the hall and have been for the better part of 10 minutes. Not one person has come up to me to find out what happened to my face, a face that is bruised and filled with cuts. My normally perfect blonde hair is a smattering of curls and knots from being pulled on as I was dragged from the stall that I’d hidden in, the one nearest to the main hall. One of my sapphire blue eyes probably can’t be seen because of the swelling. I know it must be swollen because I can’t see out of it. My bow-shaped lips; the reason I was attacked today, were both split on one side. My new peach dress, the one my mother sent me from this month’s shopping excursion to Paris, is shredded at the base and written in lipstick is one word: Bullied.

Yep, that’s me too. The idiot who decided to report that evil Nina Dobrev witch clone; the very bane of my existence that woke up to discover new ways to torture me. If she is described as Nina, then I would fit the Jennifer Lawrence knockoff description. You wanna know the worst thing about it? She’s my damned cousin. She, at one time, promised to protect me when I first started at this hateful school. How times had changed since that sunny, hope filled day. Jenna Nielson Turner is now the ringleader of my own personal, living hell. Who says that you don’t get what you wish for? Oh wait, that’s not the bull that I ordered. I hear in some remote part of the world that family members actually protect one another. They actually look out for each other and care about one another’s well-being. It must be nice to have that kind of security. I never thought that I would be one of those people that actually wished for another person’s life. Well, I would give anything, truly anything to even dream of stepping into someone else’s shoes. I mean anybody is better than nobody. It has to be. Right?

I still can’t get over the fact that I’m standing here and none of these cold, cruel, self-involved idiots have even looked my way. None of them are even attempting to give notice to me or my appearance. I didn’t think that I could feel any lower until this very moment. The only reason I’m still standing here is because my good eye is blurry from the apparent tears that I hadn’t even realized that I was shedding. I can’t make it out the front door, down the walk or up the six to seven blocks that it will take to get to my house. I know I’m disoriented. I can’t remember how I got to where I’m standing. I don’t recall how to get to the front entrance. I know I am just outside the main office. One would think that the adults in the office would maybe come to see about me. I guess that’s not the case. Even adults don’t see the nobody.

I’m tired of it all. I’m tired of not being seen. I’m tired of being the doormat. I’m tired of not being helped. I’m just tired of being tired. I can’t keep doing this. I shouldn’t have to keep dealing with it. I should have someone here. I should have someone in my corner. There should be at least one person that is willing to step up and help me.

Could someone please at least tell me how to get out of this hallway? I’m so sorry for inconveniencing you all but my swollen eyes are preventing me from getting down the hall to leave this BUILDING! I scream and throw my hands out.

To my horror, I hear snickers and giggles as my hand makes contact with someone that was obviously walking by at that moment. There were a few horror-filled gasps, but I don’t know if they were due to my face, or because of the girl getting hit by me. The giggles came from familiar voices. Those voices belonged to the same bunch of witches that caused this. I hate them. I hate them for being the reason that I am standing in this hall, practically begging for help. I hate them for being the reason that I feel all alone and the reason that some days I wish I could just step off a ledge. I won’t. I won’t give them the satisfaction, but some days I feel like it would be a better choice.

Did you hear... I had to stop because my words seemed slurred somehow. Was my lip swollen too? I didn’t realize that it was cut and swollen.

Yeah, you were heard, but no one cares, I hear Jenna call from behind me. No one wants to have their reputation ruined by someone that is the truest deception of a nobody.

It is pathetic that she is too stupid to realize that she should be using the word ‘depiction’ to insult me, and not ‘deception.’  Even worse is the fact that I am standing here thinking about her grammar, when I need to find my way out of this little slice of what is my slow death warmed over. Her words have to be true, since no one is stepping forward. I start down the hall toward where I believed the exit is, just hoping that I’m right.

FINE! Such jerks and ignorant losers, a great waste of crap lining the hallway. I hope all of you feel what I’m feeling right now one day. If you do get to experience this pain and frustration, I hope that I’m there to bear witness. I cannot believe none of you would be willing to step up and help. Just once ...

In that moment, I was unable to finish my tirade.

One, I was too choked up to continue doing any speaking. Two, I felt myself being harshly pulled in another direction. Whoever it was didn’t seem to care that her nails were biting into my flesh. Perfect! It wasn’t like I didn’t already have bruises. Now, I would have to deal with those bruises on top of the bruises from whoever’s piercing, pinching nails were carving their way into the skin of my arm.

Ow! I said in reaction to the pain.

"All right, Ms. Turner, that’s quite enough. There’s no need for the theatrics. You’ve caused enough trouble. Back to class, students. If you’re still in the hall by my count of ten then you will be here with me for the rest of the week with a mandatory detention at the beginning and end of the day. F.Y.I. I’m at number eight," Mrs. Tucker said as she yanked my arm, none too gently.

Mrs. Tucker whispered loudly to me, We need to get some kind of insurance claim going on you. You’ve had far too many ‘accidents’ lately.

Mrs. Tucker is the tall, former washed-up model that got suckered into being the Vice Principal of our wonderful high school. She hates her life, her job, the students, but most of all, she hates me. You know that movie, John Tucker Must Die, that’s pretty much how I feel about Mrs. Tucker. She’s the one with all the power; the person who makes all of the decisions. Principal Scott is just the face of the school, and nothing more. He wouldn’t know what to do at a school board meeting or a PTA function. It was always smile and look pretty for the camera for him. The man was a total douche, and his keeper was currently attempting to mark me like I was her property.

Mrs. Tucker, would you please take your nails out of my arm? I heard myself speaking, but what came out did not sound like what I was trying to say.

I wanted her nails out of my arm. The swelling was getting worse.

You asked for someone to help you, and Ms. Turner, I am happy to oblige, Mrs. Tucker responded as we turned the last corner to her office.

Fantastic! I just wanted to go home and tend to my injuries, but nope, she had other ideas. How was I supposed to get out of here? The people that assigned her office placement made a wise decision keeping her away from the general public. This beast needed to be under lock and key most of the time. It was quite a horrible scene when she needed a verbal punching bag. It was always known by the way she walked just what kind of a rampage she was on. The loudness of her heel clicks could determine the severity of the oncoming punishment. Whomever she set her sights on would be subject to a general abusing or a full on call your mom to come and pick up your emotional remains attack. The angrier she was, the louder her shoes sounded against the hall floor. Right now, her footfalls sounded like The Hulk was storming the halls.

My speech was getting worse. I vwannid da go hone nah here, I attempted to let her know that I wanted to go home and not her office.

This was obviously not going to get me anywhere. I might as well give up on the attempts. Even if she did understand me, she wouldn’t care. She already knew that she wanted me as her sounding board for this weeks’ recap of reality TV. When I say reality TV, I mean The World According to Mindy Preston now Tucker not actual reality TV. I might enjoy it if it were about a television program. When it came to her life and commentary, I could go my entire sixteen years of life not knowing about it. I have so many things that I would prefer doing running into oncoming traffic, riding a roller coaster without the safety thing, actually jumping off that ledge that I talked about earlier. None of those things were what I was getting ready to deal with. An urgent knock sounded on the door, and Nurse Calloway poked her head in before Mrs. Tucker said it was okay for her to enter. Mrs. Tucker’s face sure told me that she didn’t appreciate the older woman not waiting for her to let her in.

Oh good, I found you. Mrs. Putnam told me you might need some assistance. From the looks of things, she was correct. Oh, we need to get you into my office and give you some of my very own special touch. Thank you, Mrs. Tucker, for getting Miss Turner safely out of the hallway. Have a nice day, Nurse Calloway, the ever-perky lady with a warm smile, gentle hands, and dark brown hair streaked with grey. To me she said, Come now, let’s get you taken care of and call your parents to have them come pick you up.

I didn’t hesitate. I immediately stood and walked toward the sound of her voice. In moments, I felt her slightly weathered hands touch my forearm to lead me toward the door. I heard Mrs. Tucker mutter something that didn’t sound like she was too thrilled about being interrupted. I wanted to hug the nurse for coming to rescue me. Not many knew of the possible treachery that could be brought about at the hands of the vice principal. She was nobody’s pal. She tended to be even crueler to those that were battered and bruised. The one, or ones, that were behind it were a mere afterthought. It was as if she wanted to punish the victims for being victims, as if they wore a sign that said, Please do victimize me. 

As we left her office, Mrs. Tucker finally spoke, well yelled, I want a full reporting of all the supplies used. I want it by the end of the day.

Yes. Heaven forbid, you miss an accounting of what money was spent. Never mind the fact the girl is hurting or was attacked. Oh, she’s of no concern. Cruel, hateful, sad creature. I just can’... Nurse Calloway’s voice trailed off as her muttering stopped. Well now, let’s get you tended to and get you on home. The office has already been notified that you will be out today and for the next week, as it looks. Mrs. Putnam would’ve come and gotten you, but she is going around to your classes now and gathering your work. I told her it was for a few days, but we will make sure you get the work from your lessons. She said that you were a very good student and wouldn’t want to be behind.

My mind was a jumbled mess. I was filled with a glimmer of contentment. None of the teachers had ever acted as if they cared one way or the other. They tended to stick to their classes, teach then go home. Most turned the other way when anything was happening with a student. Finding out that a teacher had taken the time to not only see to my care but was getting my work from other teachers so I wouldn’t miss anything, was a really good thing. Maybe I wasn’t as invisible as I thought I was. No, that wasn’t the case. I was still invisible. I’d heard of Mrs. Putnam, but I hadn’t had any of her classes. She taught drama and sometimes helped out in the music department, from what I’d heard. I wasn’t one that liked sharing my creative side. I usually steered clear of those areas.

We came to a stop just outside of Nurse Calloway’s office. I could smell the alcohol and disinfectant through the door, a giveaway to where we were. The added jingle of her keys also helped.

Oh, my goodness! You poor girl. I can’t believe this. Horrible little ... I’m so sorry, a soft caring voice said from a little bit of a distance away.

I felt soft fingers graze under my chin. When I complied and lifted my face