Chapter One

A young gal hates her name, her new hometown, and the fact that her father's dead. But most of all she hates that she didn't prevent his death and will stop at nothing to prevent another.

Chapter One

          I hate my name, I hate everything about it.  It mockingly embodies all that I am not and will never have.  Avria.  It’s from some antiquated Harlequin romance waif.  She’s the typical damsel in distress awaiting her knight in shining armor to come to her rescue - of course he does.  I don’t have the luxury of playing the waif and there is definitely not a knight in my future.  Avria, I despise it. I wish my name were the only curse I suffer. 

          My friends call me Marie.  However, that implies that I have some.  I did have one before we moved to this godforsaken place.  Seattle is a long ways from here, and not just in miles.  Mother says it’s a new start.  What she really means is she hopes to escape the memory of Dad.  At least that is what I am hoping and not that she really intends to permanently cage us with Barry �" “Plenty of Fish” my a*s, throw that one back.  Surely her online escapades could yield a rebound closer to home.  The pond is certainly much bigger in Seattle than here in Cowtown, Idaho.  I believe the natives refer to it as Jerome. Nevertheless, Crissy and I are stuck in tow, starting a new school right before Halloween. Joyous rapture. 

My name is Avria Marie Grenald.  I was born on leap year day nearly 17 years ago, though that day like all the rest, is robbed of all joy.  I am tall and lanky.  My hair is long copper curls; I once thought my freckles cute.  I take solace in the fact that my eyes are jade, my favorite color.  Nothing about my appearance is remarkable.  Of course I haven’t looked in a mirror in nearly a year; I can’t stand the sight of myself.  He’s dead and it’s my fault. Life goes on so they say.  I guess it does- new day, new town, new school.  At least the balmy five degrees outside might hide my freakishness a little longer. 

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                To say the halls were crowded is an understatement.  How can this dinky town have so many kids?  It felt like the walls were closing in; it was almost as if I’ve never navigated a high school hallway before.  Boisterous voices, 50 year-old stank, people pushing and shoving.  Everyone mowing a path to their next societally imposed prison.  Mine was Calculus.  While not many favor math, I’d much rather be in class than risk bumping into someone in this hall. 

            I have no idea where I’m going.  You’d think the office would have enough courtesy to provide a map for us noobs.  No. That’d be too easy.  A small town like this, maybe they think everyone has innate directional ability attributed to their cattle forefathers.  Or perhaps they think that it will encourage social interaction, but I would rather have a severe case of e coli. 

Six minutes.  360 seconds.  It’s excruciating.   I tuck myself in a little alcove, waiting for those seconds to tick by, for the halls to clear.  The bell rings and I thank God for it.  I make my way down the hall, looking for room 112.

When I stepped into the classroom, it was dead silent, and that was before all fifty-six eyes burrowed into me.  Mr. Mahaney cleared his throat and the majority of the eyes were diverted to their respective paper.  He motioned me to an empty seat near the door and I took my leave, thankfully escaping an embarrassing introduction.  However, I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t embarrass myself with my mad math skills. 

As I took my seat, the guy next to me raised his head from his paper and smiled at me.  As though his strong, chiseled face set on a smooth mocha canvas wasn’t enough, his brilliant jade green eyes crossed the space between us, seized my lungs, and stopped my heart.  He was wearing my eyes.  I was looking into MY eyes.  How was that possible?  I shook my head and looked at him again.  His head tilted to the side as his smile wilted and he looked at me quizzically. His eyes were golden brown, breathtaking in their own right, but not mine. 

Great! Now, I’m hallucinating. 

 

Author's Note

This is my first attempt at writing. Here goes nothin...I will gladly accept any feedback offered for this little snippet.

Reviews

[B.T. Lyons]

Very nice work setting up the scene; you captured a teen moving from one bad situation to another one very well.

Only one question: this line did not quite make sense to me: "My friends call me Marie. However, that implies that I have some." I'm not quite sure some "what" . . . could you clarify that, please?

[Croatoan]

That was a very interesting read. It really leaves me a bit curious as to what happens next. I like how you didn't give too much detail about what happened with her...you know. Leaves you wondering. Trying not to spoil anything for other readers. Anyhow, i look forward to the next chapter. Great write and well done.