She was definitely in the unpopular clique. She made sure if that. Most of the girls were blonde bombshells, and Sandy was...not. She had dyed her hair jet black in middle school, and never went back. Hell, she didn’t remember her natural color now!

She also was always outdoors, at night. This lead to rumors of her being a Witch, rumors Sandy never denied. If anyone crossed her path, she just whispered to them in her “witch language,” as the normals called it. They had no idea it was High Valarien.

True, being true to herself left Sandy alone. She did long for a human companion on her long sojourns. She settled for a black cat named Mischief (it went with her witch persona.)

Mischief was in her carrier, crying at the indignity of being in a car. “Shhhh, my sweet girl. We’re almost out of the town.” Sandy has gotten a job as copy writer the next state over. She said no goodbyes after high-school graduation, there was no one to say goodbye to. She couldn’t afford college, yet.

She reflected on her times in Oak Hills, trying to find something good to hold onto. She failed. This was for the best. A new start, a new life, as new Sandy. She was keeping the hair, though. Stay true to yourself always, but allow some room for change.

At the town line, she pulled over, turned off the car. She got out, ignoring the plaintive news, and turned to face her old town.

She grinned to herself. She was getting out. She was free. She was still Sandy. They had not gotten to her.

She flipped the town off, double birds, got back on the car, and drove off. Never to return.