BOOKWORM

“Would you please stop reading?” My mother rushed into the room in hope that I had listened, only to see me immersed in another book. A smug grin found its way to my face, as I ignored her in a petty attempt of defiance.

                “Give me that.” She grabbed the book and turned it over to look at the cover. “Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul? How do people write a hundred page books on how to make broth and become bestsellers?”

                As my mother ranted on, I looked away in frustration. There was my literal mother, judging a book by its cover again…

                I stepped out of my room and rushed down the stairs, not bothering to brush my hair. If the hoard of boys at school were right, I was “dang pretty, no matter what”. Then again, none of them interested me at all. I was focused on school, and getting good grades, simply because I wanted permission to read.

                Reaching the kitchen, I juggled a bowl of cereal, two oranges and a pitcher of milk quite dangerously as I thought of my latest fan-fiction concept. It would involve two lovers, both forbidden to wed, secretly marrying and then on trial of death for—

                Already done before, I told myself as I remembered Romeo and Juliet.

                “Where are you going?” My mother looked at me in horror as I stared at myself. I had managed to juggle my breakfast all the way to the study, which was off-limits to food. I rushed out and quickly put the food onto the table. “Sorry,” I muttered. I poured the milk into the cereal bowl, as I stared out the window. It was a nice day, but I could see angry storm clouds gathering around the horizon. I traced a pattern in the sky, my eyes focusing onto what I thought was a bird.

                “What are you doing? Did you leave your mind in your bed?” I looked at my mom’s angry face and then down to my bowl of cereal. Half the contents were on the table, the Cheerios flowing off the side of the tablecloth like small boats.

                “Please, just leave. I’ll clean the place,” my mom sighed in frustration as I walked out. I didn’t feel hungry anyways.  As I put on my shoes and picked up my backpack, I saw Dad walking down the stairs to tell us to stop the commotion, and then yell at us—or rather, me—for what I had done. I quickly left my home, walking swiftly up the path to school.

                Rainy River high school, like the rest of Rainy River, Ontario, was small. I longed to live in the big cities, where things happened all the time. I had spent my entire weekend in the library, consulting the measly number of books on Toronto for information and dazzling pictures on the city. I longed, with my life, perhaps, to see the CN Tower. The inevitability of this shattered as I neared my school. The small building was about the size of 10 of our condos put together, and I knew everyone by name, even the teachers and janitors that were supposedly ‘behind the scenes’. You can see why I hated it so much here.

                “Hey Ava!”

                 I was distracted by the voice of Derek Wang, the mathematician and super-geek of the school. He had some impression that I was his best friend, and he did whatever I did—until, of course, it turned to reading as a getaway. He could not stand fiction books, and eventually left me alone in the library. I smiled at him, and kept walking. A minute or so later, he caught up with me.

                “So, what did you do all weekend?”

                “Read.”

                “Again?” I knew that Derek’s voice was in dismay as he scowled.

                “If you have a problem with my interests, then maybe you should leave me alone.” I smiled quickly and turned towards the school’s main entrance. Above it, in fading letters, was the sign saying RAINY RIV R HIGH SC OOL. I sighed, and went inside. I followed the familiar hallways—yellow slabs of concrete, big bulletin of updates near the office—while Derek rambled on about the redundancy of fiction in our lives. I found Anjelie, my real best friend, at her locker waiting for me.

                “Later, Derek,” I said as he walked into his period 1 class. I turned to face Anjelie, who smiled at me.

                “Hey Ava, check out this thing I bought in Thunder Bay yesterday!” she exclaimed as she held out a beautiful necklace that shimmered a thousand times each time she twisted it. I burned with jealousy, wishing that my parents would take me to Thunder Bay. It was the closest big city in Ontario, and yet I was not allowed to go. My mother thought it was to dangerous, and my father, too expensive.

                The bell rang.

                “Crap, we have to get to class!” Anjelie ran ahead of me as we rushed to class. The English teacher, Mr. Hugh, looked at us annoyingly before restarting his lesson. I pretended to pay attention as I passed notes to Anjelie. She was not too interesting until suddenly I got an exciting glance from her, and a new note:

Did you see the new guy yet?
There’s some rich family that moved in
and they have a guy who’s the same grade
 as us! I dunno what schedule he has though.

                It’s always Anjelie that knows everything, I thought as I scrawled onto the back of the paper:

Really? I wonder if he’s cute. But then again, if
he’s rich he won’t be interested in any of us.

                I quickly passed the paper to her, and then picked up a book that I had been trying to get through. I completely blocked out Mr. Hugh’s droning, monotonous lesson as I immersed myself into the world of Stephenie Meyer’s Breaking Dawn. My favourite of her series had been Twilight, and even now I daydreamed of the characters.

                “Anjelie Ryusky! What is the subject of the sentence on paragraph three, line fourty-five?”

                I looked up in a start at my friend, who also looked up from her doodling. She blushed a beet red, and tried to flip over the doodles. In her haste, I watched in horror as she slipped and fell out of her seat. The carefully-concealed notes that we had been passing too each other flew into the air out of her lap, and fluttered to the ground like feathers.

                “You will see me in detention, after school.” Mr. Hugh looked at her sharply, and then suddenly turned to me. “Do you know the answer, Ms. Hegemann?”

                I looked up in shock, Breaking Dawn still open on my desk. Mr. Hugh smiled a thin smile, and said, “You will be joining Ms. Ryusky in detention. Is that understood?”

                I squeaked, and the class stared at me. I flushed a deeper red and nodded stiffly. So much for seeing who the new boy is after school, I thought to myself.

                As soon as lunch break came, I rushed to the small cafeteria to sit with my friends. Occasionally, an all-to-misinformed person would try to invite themselves into our group, and they would walk away hurt. I was the cause of all of this; if I couldn’t be in big, drama-filled high schools then I would create the drama. I sat down beside Anjelie, who started complaining to Lauren, one of my other friends, about the cruel Mr. Hugh. I found my lost page and continued from where I had left off in my book. My mind drifted away from the conversations.

                “Ava, there he is!”

                I looked up from my book, and followed Anjelie, Lauren and some of the other girls’ fingers towards a boy standing in the corner. He had a smooth, clean shaven face with pleasant features. His hair styled perfectly to match, the boy looked arrogant. His lips were slightly parted, and I observed that his nose was not as angular, but not flat either. Indeed, I thought, he is quite handsome. However, it was his eyes that struck me the most. Dark, black pools emanating with a strange glow, I could not see past them. There was no reflection, and when I started to stare, I was mesmerized by the seemingly swirling pupils.

                “He’s… hot,” Lauren cooed softly as Anjelie nodded in agreement. I was still staring when suddenly he looked my way. I saw nothing inside his eyes, as if he was a wax statue.

                “Lauren!” Anjelie hissed at me. “Don’t stare!” I looked away quickly, and said, “He is hot.”

                “I think he’s more emo, that’s what,” said Derek, as he scowled at me again. Jealous much.

                Suddenly, the boy walked out and slammed the cafeteria door, silencing the room for a split second. I sighed, and turned back to my book.

   ____________________________________________________________________________________

                “Will you care to explain to me why you were reading?” Mr. Hugh looked at me while I fidgeted. After lunch, I had dreaded the periods to follow, because detention was the only thing on my mind. Now, my mind worked furiously to come up with an excuse for reading in class.

                “I was, um, trying to enhance my personal learning experience by… reading different materials?” my statement ended in a question, and Anjelie snickered.

                “You can do that in your own time, Ava. Tomorrow I want both of you to hand in three-hundred-word essays explaining to me why you shouldn’t have been doing what you were doing. And Anjelie, you know my rule for passing notes: you’ll have to clean the classroom for the remainder of this week.”

                “But Mr. Hugh, that’s four days! The week just started—“

                Mr. Hugh cut off her words with a wave of his hand, as I smiled.

                “I know,” he said.