Chapter One

  Ah, morning. My favorite time of the day. The issues and arguments of yesterday are now officially in the past. You get to listen to all of the birds chirp, and smell the dew in the air. It's a bit like instant gratification to be able to walk and bask in the glory of a new morning. Some days I cant think of anything I'd rather do. And Spring. Spring is like an entire season paying homage to the morning. Unfortunately, one of the worst days in my life developed in both settings. But really, now that I think about it, it may also be one of the best.

 

Let me explain.

 

  It was a day like any other. I woke up at around 7:00. I wrapped myself in my blankets and sat there for like an hour. Just like I would do on any other spring weekend. Then, unlike most days, my mom came in and yelled at me that my school librarian had called and said that I owed the school money. A lot of money. Two hundred-fifty dollars to be precise. For our local book drive. This was complete BS, of course, because I had paid back the school the day I had sold my share of the books. Yet, there it was, a whopping two-fifty missing from the school account. So what does my mom do? She makes me search all over the house for my cardboard cash register. Though I'm sure I threw that away by then. Perfect way to start the day, right? Then, once I have looked all around the house, and even ransacked my boxes I had set for Goodwill and college (because I would totally take a cardboard box with me to Uni), we got into a little argument about whether or not the box was in the house. She insisted I look again, and I basically told her fat chance. It was the second to last weekend before term, and in turn school would end. It was the last weekend before my big pre-University road trip. I was supposed to be wasting it packing up my stuff for college, saying goodbye to people, and planning my trip. Not looking for a non-existent box filled with money I had already paid. So I wasted half the day before I lost it and stormed out of the house. I left my keys by accident, and not wanting to make a fool of myself by going back inside, walked.

 

  I walked down to a bridge by town, and got on the railing and contemplated jumping. One thing you should know about me is that I make things seem much worse than they really are, resulting in major drama. So I stood there, staring down at the shallow creek below, looking like a complete idiot, when I heard someone say, "I wouldn't do that if I was you." He had long dirty brown hair, and a hint of a moustache. He had grungy clothes on, and as a result, looked a bit like a homeless man. He was young, probably not more than five years older than me. Probably more like three. Drugs? I mused. "Why not?" I pouted. "Because," he said smugly, "You don't look suicidal. You haven't jumped yet, and you've probably been there for at least five minutes, so you're probably not trying to kill yourself." Smart druggie, I thought. "How do you know?" I snarled. He ignored me. "You're probably trying to make a point." he sighed, "I wouldn't, if I was you. People who were drunk or high have jumped off there because they were being idiots," he flicked a pebble into the creek, "and they offed themselves without half a mind to figure out why." He spat. Not a druggie then? "Because they were high?" He raised his eyebrow. "No, because they were being stupid. Which lead to them getting high in the first place." Denial? "And what," I said sort of puffing out my chest a little, "makes you think that I want to live?" "Because," he sighed, "I don't think you're that stupid. Stop trying to make a point and come down before you fall." I reluctantly stepped down. "Are you homeless?" I wondered aloud. He sort of gave a small snicker. "I bet you think I'm a druggie too." "actually-" "Well I'm not." his face sort of softened a little at this. Now he didn't look as much of a hardened, matured adult do much as a young boy. "What happened?" I breathed. "How does someone as smart as you end up on the streets?" "My dad left us when I was young, and my mother's a drunk." He snarled. "Happy now?" "I'm so sorry-" "Cut it. I don't want your pity, or anyone else's." He started to walk away. "Wait!" I ran after him. "Mister, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to strike a nerve. Mister! Mister! Stop! I'm sorry!" "Stop calling me mister. I can't be that much older than you." "Well, um, sir, uh, you! What am I supposed to call you then?" By this time, we were in town. "I don't think it matters." He smirked as he folded into a crowd of people.

 

  I walked back home. Slowly, limping like I'd hurt myself. When I got home, it was 6:00. All cars were gone except mine. I walked around the house disconsolately. I wandered into my sister's room. She was too lazy to move out or go to college, so we got stuck with her for a good four years extra. I sat on her bed. I looked up and down her bookshelf. I got out her yearbook. I would do this every once in a while, wondering what it was like to be her. I flipped through the pages, when something struck me as odd. Someone looked familiar. And it wasn't like it was one of her friends or ex-boyfriends or anything. In fact, it was someone who looked to be completely out of her social circle. Then it hit me. He was the man I'd met earlier. He looked much different, all clean shaven, and groomed. He had on glasses, and an AC/DC t-shirt. I snickered a little bit. So he was a dark nerd. He didn't smile in the picture, in fact, if anything, he frowned. He looked a little bit torn between whether he should cry or smack the cameraman upside the head. The name read: Alexsander Fangoni. Ok then, Alex. We shall meet again. I looked around the room anxiously. What to do now? I couldn't possibly pack or plan. I'd be too distracted. Besides, I had this nagging feeling that Alex could help me with my money problem. I had no Idea why, though. So I got my wallet, my keys, and my iPod, and went to go people watching.

 

  I found him not too long after. He was sitting in an alleyway holding his arm. Panhandling? I wondered. I got out. "You ok, umm, Alex?" I said awkwardly. His shoulders tensed and he looked up at me. "How on Earth do you know my name?" "Umm..." I said, wondering how to explain. "Never mind, just give me some Tylenol." He said groaning."Umm, I'm not sure I should do that." I said warily. "For heaven's sake, I'm not a druggie! I'm in pain! Or can you not see that?" "How'd you hurt yourself then?" "I slipped and fell, ok? I think I broke my wrist, just give me some Tylenol! Sheesh!" I looked around. I didn't see anything that he could possibly slip on. "Let me see." I said, calmly. I broke my wrist skateboarding in fourth grade, so I knew what it looked like. He held it out reluctantly. I looked awful. It was swollen and reddish-purple. Definitely broken. I looked him over. "Get in the car. I'll take you to the hospital." "No!" He gasped. "They cant help me! No. I'll stay here, thank you." I gave him a puzzled look and then shrugged my shoulders. "Fine. But the Tylenol is at home, so unless you want to sit out here in pain, I suggest you come with me." "How do you know that I wont mug and kill you or something?" He said innocently. "Because. If you wanted to do that, you would've pushed me off the bridge when you had the chance. And besides," I said, mocking him a little,"I don't think you're that stupid."

 

  The whole way home, he seemed to worship the heater. He would get as close as he could, and rub his hands. "I'm sensitive to the cold." He explained. When we got there, I gestured towards the door. "Come in, won't you?" I didn't exactly want him hijacking my car. He looked at me blankly, then followed me in. "Nice house you got there." He said, envy lacing his voice. "I suppose." I said. When I came back out with the Tylenol and water, I caught him stroking the leaves of a viola. I cleared my throat. "Viola Cucullata." He said distantly, almost as if in a trance. "Healthy one too." He turned around. "Oh sorry." He said. "Pills. Right." He said in a gruff voice. He took the Tylenol, then turned to walk out the door. "Wait, umm, you really should put that up, or bandage it or something." "I'll be fine." He said, then gave me a sort of expectant look. When I didn't respond, he sighed and said in a slightly impatient manner,"Well, you know my name now. Mind if I ask yours?" "Natalia." I said reluctantly, "But you can call me Nat." "How about I call you jailbait." He said, winking as he walked out the door. "Sheesh," I murmured. "Enough with the dramatic exits!"