Chapter One

“Quit staring.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“I said to quit staring. He’s going to think you’re a crazy stalker chick like the rest of us at this table.”

 

“Oh, sorry.”

 

I buried my face in the poetry book that lay in my hands, trying to resist cringing at my abnormal behavior. Great, he probably did think I was some freak, just like the rest of the people in this school. Glancing around our lunch table, I reasoned why those people would think that. The table hosted mainly students from the drama, robotics, art, media studies, improve and science clubs. Basically, we were the oddballs, and we were certified. There was nothing wrong with being strange like them. It’s just that no one outside of their little cliques accepted them, and even though I wasn’t really considered one of them, I was still seen as one of them. I didn’t participate in any of their clubs, didn’t talk like them, heck I rarely talked, but I still felt out of place.

 

Not as out of place as I would be if I sat with the cheerleaders or football jocks, but still out of place. I furtively took another look from behind my book at him, the one I was staring at quite obviously mere seconds ago. A boy, Carter James, the school’s famous quarterback who has won our meek football team countless games, sat two tables across from the one I was unfortunately sitting at.

 

Carter James. It was a name that rolled off my tongue and made my heart flutter excessively. Carter James with his sandy blond hair that was beautifully windswept on the stillest of days, his perfectly shaped cheekbones that rose and fell as he chuckled or frowned, and the fittest body in the senior class by far with a ripping six-pack. I sighed inwardly, but kept my gawking to a minimum. I’m pretty sure his buddies, who have seen me drop things and trip over my own feet more times than you can imagine, have told him how obnoxious strange I was.

 

I always wondered why they automatically decided I was an outsider the second I walked through those double cafeteria doors, but then I realized that people still judged books by their covers. My style, consisting of semi-skinny jeans and the cleanest t-shirt I could find, wasn’t that outrageously conspicuous. It was low key, and I assumed that the darker colored clothing I wore, the more I could escape into the shadows. Reality served me wrong, and I stuck out like a sore thumb. I was a beacon for the freaks and weirdoes because I liked to wear t-shirts from punk-rock concerts and black nail polish. Sue me.

 

“You’re doing it again,” a voice said, obviously annoyed and rudely interrupting my thoughts.

 

“Sorry, Jen,” I mumbled, “I can’t help it. It’s like every time I look away, my eyes just drift to him no matter how much I distract myself.”

 

My sort of best friend, Jennifer Holsten, regularly known as Jen, rolled her eyes at me. She muttered what sounded like “whatever” and focused her attention back to the left-over pork fried rice that sat in a Tupperware bowl on the table.

 

Let me explain what “sort of best friend” refers to. Jen and I, we weren’t the “let’s paint our nails and gossip and play truth or dare and fan over boys all night long” type of best friends. We just tolerated each other’s company, which was all the kind of company we had. Neither of us had a certain group that we belonged to. Jen and I were the true outsiders. No one else was as rejected as us. No other club seemed to want to take us under their wing, so we huddled under each other’s. It wasn’t rocket science.

 

I clicked the side button on my phone so it would display the time. Only two minutes left of lunch, then two more classes. I could and almost have survived another day in the strenuous high school life. Nothing bad happened, but nothing particularly good happened either. This was a recurring problem in my life, but I didn’t mind it. There wasn’t anything to cry about, so I figured I had it good.

 

“Do you want to go to the Paradox after school?” Jen asked.

 

The Paradox was this local theater that was long since running. No one ever used it, but Jen and I went there sometimes to just relax and listen to whatever heavy metal band she was interested in that day. The band changes weekly. Sometimes the smokers at our school would join us and pass around a joint, leaning against the side of the stage and reveling in the toxic smoke. I would normally read a book or write in my journal. On a not-particularly-good day, I would pour my heart and soul into free verse poetry that covered numerous pages in my journal. On not-particularly-bad days, I would take out that week’s poetry book I was reading. Just like the CD’s Jen played changed weekly, my taste in poets differed as well.

 

“Yeah, sure,” I replied.

 

Just in time too, as the bell rang immediately after I responded. Jen nodded her head in confirmation and shuffled away to her next class. I headed in the opposite direction, dumping my half eaten peanut butter sandwich in the trash bin on the way out of the cafeteria. Lunch wasn’t really my thing anymore. I couldn’t stomach anything for more than an hour because of a stupid stomach bug this past week, but it was nothing. Everyone had it, and I was just the next in line.

 

The hallways were a clutter, as always, and I could barely brush past the crowd without knocking into the lockers on either side. People at this school liked to push me around, thinking I was an easily disposable ragdoll. Sure, it hurt, but what could I do about it? I’m sure it would be the same no matter what school I went to. Every school had that certain clique that thought the world ran according to their wants and wishes, and that they could do anything their precious hearts desired. It was the same everywhere. Time or place didn’t matter. Some people just never change.

 

My next class was in sight, yet all of a sudden I was thrown into the lockers to my left. My head collided abruptly with the lock on one of the doors, and I slumped nearly unconsciously to the linoleum floor. Groaning in agonizing pain, I clutched the egg-sized bruise already forming on the side of my head. Something sticky and warm trickled down my palm. I brought my hand down to my watering eyes to see red ooze settling into the crevices of my fingerprints. A figure loomed above me and I could hear them chuckling in amusement at my fall. I grimaced and tried to stand up, but the person’s foot held me down by my ankles.

 

“Sit down, freak. You’re not welcome at this school. And you would think that after four years here, you would have realized that,” an arrogant, trilling voice threatened.

It was none other than Samantha Jarvis, the head cheerleader. If there was a school that hosted all of the world’s stereotypes, Grothem High would be the one and only. Not only was Samantha a spoiled brat, but she was also a condescending b***h that liked to make my life a living hell. She sounds like a great representative for the school, doesn’t she? Samantha was the favorite of all the teachers because, boy, can she play a goody-two-shoes when it’s beneficial for her. She should go into acting because she’d make one hell of an actress.

 

Samantha smiled sweetly from her spot well above me, making the point that she had won this stupid quarrel. I was sick of these meet-ups with her. They always ended with some part of my body bleeding. She gave me one last good kick before the hallway completely emptied, and I winced. No one bothered to help me up: I was a certified nobody. When I staggered to my feet though, sparkles danced in my vision, and I nearly collapsed to the ground. Yet someone grabbed my arm and steadied me just before I crumbled once again.

 

I squinted at the hand clasped protectively around my upper arm, and recognized the faded blue bracelet that hung loosely around its wrist. I would have known that bracelet anywhere. It was Carter’s, and seeing it made me want to vomit out of embarrassment. He probably had witnessed the whole confrontation between me and Samantha, and now he was here to do his own damage. I shut my eyes tightly and waited for the insult, a gruff shove, a snicker, but nothing came. That’s when I understood that it was a tentative grip that he had around my arm, like he was afraid to hurt me, which I wasn’t completely certain of why. His friends and his “kind”, the stereotypical type, would be glad to, even honored, to rain on my parade. So why wasn’t he?

 

“Hey, are you alright?” Carter asked after a silence that hung thickly in the air between us.

 

I wanted to be sarcastic and say “Do I look okay to you?”, but instead I thought that maybe if I was gentle, then he would be too.

 

“I’ll be okay,” I answered quietly.

 

I tried to slip out of his grasp to sneak into the classroom that was a few feet away, or possibly the girls’ bathroom, but he held his ground. Carter wasn’t one to talk to someone like me, a “freak”, and I wondered why he was risking his dear reputation to check how I was doing. I’d been surviving in these hallways for the past four years, why was he only showing concern for me now?

 

Carter nodded and released me from his hold. I used my now free hand to pat the spot where my temple had smacked against the lock, and it was still bleeding. I winced again as my fingers prodded the cut as gingerly as possible, trying to estimate its size and depth. It didn’t seem that bad, but it still stung. By now, Carter was watching me with more concern clouding his eyes, and to be frank, his caring nature was bothering me. After all the times Samantha has caused me pain, both physical and emotional, and yet he’s only paying attention to me now? It just didn’t make sense to me. I guess I’ve never really gotten to know him. Maybe he was an entirely different person than who I’ve seen.

 

“I’m taking you to the nurse’s office.”

 

A simple statement, but it wasn’t a suggestion. Carter threw his arm around my shoulder, which made butterflies dance explosively in my stomach. I truly thought my heart was going to fly out of my mouth or burst out of my chest. Even though the gesture meant nothing, I couldn’t help but imagining that it did.

 

It wasn’t until now that I realized he was only slightly taller than me. My height was a measly 5 foot and five inches, and from this new perspective of Carter this close, he seemed to be about an inch or two taller, which was quite short for a quarterback. Still, I wondered what it would be like to stand on my tip-toes to kiss him every time we said goodbye, yet another hopeless dream of mine that will never be fulfilled. I can really only dream.

 

Frizzy strands of my dark brown hair clung to the sickly trickle of red that had made its way down the side of my face. I thought of trying to brush them away, but that would most likely make Carter awkwardly remove his arm from my shoulder, and I didn’t want that. So I just let the drying blood glue my bangs to the side of my face while Carter steered me towards the nurse’s office. The way he took charge and didn’t let me say no to his caring gesture excited me and made me melt from the inside out. Jen would have called it “puppy love”.

 

After going down two corridors and through an empty classroom, we had reached the nurse. Once she saw me stumble in with half of my face caked with dried blood, she rushed to my other side to help Carter set me down on the small hospital bed the school kept in the room. It sort of freaked me out because it made me think I was actually in a hospital, which is the worst place in the world in my mind, and I started to hyperventilate. This worried the nurse, Mrs. Busby, even more and she instructed me to take long, deep breaths.

 

“Shh, dear, you’ll be just fine. Now, lay back and I will go grab a damp cloth to clean up that mess, okay?” Mrs. Busby cooed, stroking the clean part of my flushed cheek.

She was an elderly woman, and therefore very grandmotherly, which was actually really soothing. The office felt more like my grandma’s house rather than the hospital after she hushed my heavy breathing. I settled into the crisp sheets and stiff pillow, closing my eyes to the humming of the radiator nearby. It was only when I was about to drift off to sleep when I remembered that Carter had brought me here. My eyes flew open and searched the room, but it was empty. He must have gone back to class. Maybe I could thank him later, but I doubted that. Carter probably hurried away so that no one else would see him with me.

 

Yes, that’s it, I thought as my eyes fluttered shut once more and the soft buzzing of the heat emanating from the radiator lulled me to sleep.

 

The nurse had let me sleep in her office for the rest of the day, and Jen came by to pick me up after she had heard what happened from a few of the drama nerds that had witnessed the event from the other side of the hall. Jen leaned casually against the door frame and crossed her arms. One eyebrow flew up in question, but I rolled my eyes at her. Stop being my mother, I thought, but then realizing what I said, I thanked her for coming to check on me. My mom would have never cared enough to rush to my aid if my eyes were bleeding out or if I lost an arm. Jen was the closest thing I had to a friend, and she knew enough about me to know that I needed someone to pretend to be a mother figure in my life. So there Jen was, tapping her foot impatiently on the tiled floor waiting as I shoved my things into my backpack.

 

“Coming, mother,” I muttered.

 

Mrs. Busby gave me a pass to sign that dismissed me from my last two classes, which I would show my teachers tomorrow, and I walked right past Jen. I already knew what she was going to say, so why bother to stick around and listen?

 

“Virginia,” Jen called from a few strides behind me.

 

I was already half way to the exit, but I spun around to face her.

 

“What, Jen? Go ahead. I know what you’re going to say. Don’t let her push you around. Stand up for yourself. Tell someone about it. Hell. No. Do you know what will happen if I take this to the principal? She will torture me even more because I “tattled”. Is that what you want? To you want me to be pushed so far that it might make me suicidal? Is that-“

 

“NO!” Jen interrupted, “What would I want that? Why would I EVER want that? We may not be “totally besties”, Virginia, but I do give a damn about your well-being. Is that so wrong?”

 

My mouth was still agape from mid-sentence, and I slowly closed it. Why would I think that? I guess that I thought that almost everyone wanted me to vanish because no one stood up for me, but then again, Jen was always somewhere else when I was a victim, so she had no idea that I needed saving. Guilt spread through my veins like a wildfire, and a sigh escaped my lips.

 

“Sorry, I…I’m sorry,” I whispered. A lump slowly crept up my throat and tears formed at my eyes. I hunched over and knelt to the floor, overcome with the truth that Jen was the only one that cared, even if it was only a little. I was alone, and always would be.

 

Jen rushed to my side and I folded myself into her arms, sobs wracking throughout my body. This may have been the most dramatic moment of my life, so I did it justice. There was no holding back. Suddenly, Jen’s arms disappeared and were replaced with stronger, more firm ones. My mind told me to look up and see who it was, but my body was too weak from crying. A few sniffles echoed through the air before I relaxed in the embrace of the stranger now kneeling next to me. Finally, I glanced up at the mysterious, yet comforting, person.

 

It was Carter. My eyes widened and the tears stopped almost immediately. What was he doing here still? School had ended about an hour ago, yet here he was, surprising me again.

 

“What… Carter what are you doing?” I stuttered, scooting backwards out of his lap.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Great, he actually had to think about his answer. That must mean that he hasn’t the slightest clue and realized his mistake. Might as well leave then, I grumbled. Carter didn’t budge though, and so I waited patiently for his answer. His lie has got to be pretty good if it’s taking him this long to come up with it.

 

“I felt bad, okay? I know how cruel Sam can be sometimes. She’s done the same thing to a lot of kids like…”

 

“Like me? And what’s that supposed to mean? Am I so out there that I’m officially another species? Your help is appreciated, but I don’t need it.”

 

With that said I stood up and brushed nonexistent dust off of my jeans. The exit wasn’t too far away now, only a few feet, so I walked briskly to the door. I had my fingers closing around the handle and was about to turn it when he spoke words I’d never thought I’d hear him say to me.

 

“Come to my place. Friday night. We can talk,” Carter said his voice barely a whisper.

I couldn’t tell if he said it silently so that I wouldn’t hear it, or if he was afraid someone else would, even though it was only us two left. Everyone else was gone, even the teachers. My hand gripped the handle tightly. Was he really asking me to go to his place?

 

“Are…are you sure?” I turned to ask.

 

“Positive.”

 

A smile played at my lips and a single thought ran through my mind: This is it… my chance to break out of this secluded shell of an existence and join the real world, the normal world. I lifted my head so our eyes could meet. It was a silent yet intense exchange. With a nod I sealed the deal, and he smiled softly.

 

“Here, this is my address and my cell number, text me what time,” Carter said.

 

He handed me a slip of paper from his back pocket that had his information. I took it to rub my thumb across the scratches on the slip. Scratches that formed numbers and words that would lead me to another world, one where I would have the chance to turn my whole life around. I quietly said my thanks and exited the building to find my car in the deserted parking lot. A chilly autumn breeze blew my dark brown curls wildly, and I wrapped my arms around my torso to block out the cold. It was nearing the end of September and fall weather was settling in fast. Fall was my favorite season because it was filled with brilliant and colorful foliage and crisp air. I loved to wear sweatshirts and scarves, drink tea under the covers with a good book in my hands, and blast the heat in my room.

 

 

It was Wednesday, two days until Carter and I would be hanging out at his house. Hopefully it will be us two and no one else. No siblings or parents to get in the way of our time together. I wanted Friday night to be perfect because if it is, then my entire social status at school could be rearranged. Maybe I would be walking beside Samantha instead of cowering at her feet.

 

The door to my car unlocked and I hopped inside, tossing my bag onto the seats behind me. The drive home would be peaceful for once, now that I didn’t have to lug Jen around.

 

“Damn it,” I cursed under my breath.

 

Jen. I forgot to meet up with her at the Paradox. My forehead rested against the steering wheel, and I contemplated whether I should still go there or not. The time read around three o’clock, so she would definitely be there. She usually left around four. There was an hour left to spare.

 

I threw the car in reverse and backed out of the parking lot. The Paradox was only a few minutes away. No need to be a speed demon in order to catch up with Jen. I maneuvered my way through the sparse traffic until the building was in sight. The leaves that had already managed to fall from the trees scattered everywhere and painted a beautiful scene. There was something about the way the leaves piled around the base of the theater that made my heart fill with calming warmth. I felt at home and at peace with the world more than I have before, but that could still be the adrenaline left over from talking with Carter.

 

I parked my car close to the back door and carried my book with me inside. The door was unlocked, as always, and there was a faint smell of cigarette smoke, so the smokers must be here. A cool draft poured through the cracked windows that lined the walls and stirred the stale air. Everything in this theater was thickly covered in dust and little creepers like spiders and what not. The stage, however, was clean because every so often I would bring a mop to wipe off the grime, leaving a spotless surface for Jen and me to relax on. As I continued my way past the backstage area, I saw that Jen was already propped up against the side of the stage with her radio turned up high.

 

Ooh, and I burn/Fuel is pumping engines/Burnin’ hard, loose and clean. Jen nodded her head to the beat with her eyes closed and legs crossed at the ankles. I wasn’t sure what song it was, but I knew that the band was Metallica. She had been listening to them for the past two days, so it must be this week’s obsession. Although, it wasn’t quite an obsession, it was an interest. That’s it. It was this week’s interest.

 

“Sorry, I know I’m late, but-“

 

“Doesn’t matter, it’s not like you have a curfew,” Jen said without opening her eyes.

 

“Right.”

 

Sometimes I got carried away with my friendship with Jen, thinking that she cared a lot instead of a little. Sure, she would be worried if I didn’t show up for days, but if it was only an hour or two, then she didn’t bother. She was used to it. It being that feeling of insignificance. I knew that she came from a tough home, that’s why she was at the Paradox more than I was, but I always figured that it couldn’t be that bad if she were still here. Knowing Jen, she would run off if things got too difficult for her. That was how she dealt with her problems: she ran away when life was too hard. I was raised to understand that you can’t outrun your own suffering because it follows you everywhere. It’s a shadow that you can never shake.

 

I laid down on the stage next to where Jen had her head resting against the wood. I let my book fall open to a random page and began to read. This was how I read poetry books and believed it to be a great method. That way, everyday it was a surprise, and I didn’t have to choose a poem by judging their titles. Jen always found this amusing.

 

“Why do you even bother? You’re going to end up reading the titles anyway,” she would argue.

 

“I know, but at least I won’t be picking which one to read based off their title, that doesn’t seem fair,” would be my response, even though it wasn’t a great explanation. I didn’t know how to explain myself wholly, but Jen got the gist of it. Either that or she gave up trying to understand.

 

We sat in silence for a while: her sitting against the side of the stage, and me lying above her reading. The music died down to a quiet hum, and the smokers were nowhere to be seen. They might have left when I arrived, but their toxic stench still lingered. After a while, Jen switched off the CD player and turned on the radio instead. Classical music erupted through the speakers, low yet booming. It startled me and I couldn’t help but jump slightly at the abrupt change of background music.

 

“What’s this week?” Jen asked.

 

“Um, Robert Frost,” I answered, pushing my weight onto my knees then sitting crisscross.

 

Jen was silent, and the classical music filled the gap between us. There was something about the silence that chilled me. A feeling came over me that said I should read a piece aloud, and I figured that’s what Jen wanted, too. So I did.

 

“Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening,” I started, “by Robert Frost:

 

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake…”

 

“The woods are lovely, dark and deep/But I have promises to keep/And miles to go before I sleep/And miles to go before I sleep,” Jen finished with a whisper.

 

Jen doesn’t read poetry, so I was shocked to hear her finish the rest of the poem. She wasn’t the poetry type, or she wasn’t the literature type really. Jen was filled with music, while I was made of words. That’s how we complemented each other. Without me, there were no lyrics, but without her there was no reason for me. It was a strange metaphor, but it suited us. I had never mentioned this to her because she hates listening to deep, sentimental stuff like that. I thought it was a part of her nature, but I guess it was just her ego.

 

“I’ve read it before,” she said, finally breaking the silence that ensued, “A while ago. I don’t remember why, but I was at the library. I was thinking about picking you up something by e.e. Cummings because you were complaining about not being able to find a collection of his work. Anyway, at the library, someone had left a piece of scarp paper in a book filled with Cummings’ writing, and it was that poem. I’ve read it a thousand times since then. And, yeah.”

 

I was speechless. This was a side of Jen I had never known existed. Firstly, she had actually thought of getting me a present. Though it was going to be from the library and had to be returned, it was still a gift nonetheless. My heart warmed at her thoughtfulness, and I had the dying urge to wrap her in my arms and cry. No one had ever been this thoughtful towards me. No one. Not even my mother. I was deeply touched by this one thought that I knew would never get lost in the labyrinth that is my mind. Jen probably had no idea how precious that gesture was to me, and it didn’t matter that she had never carried it out. It truly was the thought that counted.

 

“I…thank you,” I whispered, closing my book and letting it rest in my lap.

 

For a while, all you could hear was our rhythmic breathing and the soft notes of the orchestra that echoed from the speakers into the spacious room. It was a special moment between Jen and me, and it was one that I didn’t want to end. Her dirty blond hair, with dark roots that needed to be bleached soon, was piled atop her head in a messy bun. The almost nonexistent breeze that leaked through the cracked windows tickled wisps of stray hairs against her forehead, and Jen brushed them away. I admired her natural beauty that she was unaware of, and that I envied. Jen was something I could not be: beautifully hidden. Her beauty hid within her, yet she somehow hid within her beauty. I couldn’t explain it any better than that, but it sure did make sense to me. At that point, if something made sense to me and me only, then there was no point trying to make someone else understand. They weren’t worth the time if they didn’t bother to follow along.

 

“I’m going to head home, alright?” I announced.

 

Jen murmured something incomprehensible, and I took that as recognition of what I had said. That’s how we normally communicated at school: through incoherent syllables and furtive gestures. It was a language that only we knew, and it was incredibly clever. At least it was to us. Well, we hadn’t exactly confirmed that this made-up language existed, but it was an unspoken truth.

 

I made my way through the curtains and held out my phone to use the light as a guide to lead me to the back door. After bumping into a few boxes and left-over props, I reached the door and opened it to the setting sun. The cold air seeped through my jacket, which I tugged closer to my body. The cold could not be blocked out, but it could be kept at bay long enough for me to escape to the warm interior of my car. Once I was safe inside and the heat was on full blast, I pulled my car out of the parking lot and pointed it towards home. A place that I dreaded to be.