by O. E. Boroni
THE
BEGINNING
OF
NEVER
O. E. Boroni
Copyright © 2015 by O. E. Boroni
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in book reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events and places in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious, and are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
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To my God,
for your love, encouragement, and teachings.
Thank you for being patient with me.
Table of Contents
« CHAPTER 1 »
« CHAPTER 2 »
« CHAPTER 3 »
« CHAPTER 4 »
« CHAPTER 5 »
« CHAPTER 6 »
« CHAPTER 7 »
« CHAPTER 8 »
« CHAPTER 9 »
« CHAPTER 10 »
« CHAPTER 11 »
« CHAPTER 12 »
« CHAPTER 13 »
« CHAPTER 14»
« CHAPTER 15 »
« CHAPTER 16 »
« CHAPTER 17 »
« CHAPTER 18 »
« CHAPTER 19 »
« CHAPTER 20 »
« CHAPTER 21 »
« CHAPTER 22 »
AUTHOR’S NOTE
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
OTHER BOOKS BY O. E. BORONI
« CHAPTER 1 »
Today was the second Friday of the summer term, and the day that it all began. I woke up to a freezing room, and reminded myself of how much I loathed Lancaster… and my roommate… and today.
Lancaster was a small town in North West England that couldn’t help its lot for rubbish weather almost as much as my roommate, Olivia Doyle, couldn’t help her need to be evil. My bed was right next to the window, which was the only one in our room, and every night I’d go to bed with it locked only to wake up the next morning to find it open, inviting wafts of cold air to float enthusiastically into the room.
I still wasn’t certain if she did it just to provoke me, or if she actually needed the cold air at my expense as she got ready for school each morning. Mind you, she was always fully clothed, and would sit at her desk, wrapping strands of her blonde hair around her curling wand, and singing along to whichever song was blaring out of the pink stereo by her corner. I’d considered smashing the damn thing against the wall more times than I could remember, but since I would have to replace it, I restrained myself.
Just then, a slight shiver rocked my body, so I turned to my opposite side and tugged at the duvet until it was raised high enough to completely cover my head.
Today was the 17th of April, and today three years ago, my mom had died. It was also the day before my sixteenth birthday.
So far, I’d never been able to go through the day without falling apart but today, I promised myself, was going to be different. I was going to go through it with the same detachment that I did every other day, and I was going to succeed. Today, I swore, I was going to prove that I had finally risen above the pain.
The door to our room clicked open, and ushered in the banter of the remaining two of Olivia’s trio - Emma and Tess. Emma, I think was from Lancaster itself, while Tess was from Wales. Olivia said something to them as soon as they came in and they broke out in laughter, completing ignoring the fact that I was in bed, and probably still trying to sleep.
Admittedly, I should have been up and getting ready because I was running late for everything. However, it didn’t bother me too much because it was a Friday. Breakfast was already on-going in the dining hall so that was automatically out of the agenda for me. But since there was no assembly or chapel today, all I had to do was get up and meet my first class by 9:00 am.
I lowered the duvet down my face so that I could glance at the black alarm clock that faced me on my desk. I never officially used it because my roommate’s grating voice was all the anguish I could stand each morning, but it did help to inform me of when I was becoming too tardy- like right now. I saw that it was almost 8:15, but still, I chose to wait until ten minutes later, after Olivia and her pack had taken their leave.
Walking to the bathroom in my towel, I placed my toiletry basket in a stall before returning to the counter to brush my teeth. I straightened after the brush had gone into my mouth, and met the familiar pair of dull grey eyes that stared back at me through the gigantic mirror on the wall. The loud whoosh of active shower heads held my attention for a while but soon, my mind zoomed out to another day- in what now seemed like a life time ago- when I’d destroyed the mirror in my bathroom back home with my hair dryer. I’d clubbed it repeatedly, until every part of the shattered glass reflected how I felt inside.
It was in the early days, just after she’d died and I’d become so angry. I’d cursed at everyone and everything, and people pardoned me because they thought that it was my way of dealing with the pain. But back then it had been much more than pain; a part of me had been violently ripped out and more than anything, I’d felt the dark, excruciating absence.
All I’d known to do was to avoid anything that made me feel too much, and back then, people wanting to offer their condolences topped my list. Each time someone told me how sorry they were, I felt the huge hole in my chest that constantly reminded me that I didn’t have a mother anymore widen. Instantly, my air would be literally cut off, until it felt like I was struggling to breathe. So my automatic response would be to walk out on them or pick a fight, and I always got away with it because after all, I was the girl who was grieving.
The mirror incident however, finally brought my dad to the end of his rope. When he’d come in to see what had happened, and found me staring at the colossal cracks as if they were communicating a truth that only I could decipher, he’d walked out without a word and the next morning, served me with my penance for acting like I was losing my mind.
Since the car accident a few weeks back, I’d barely spoken a word to him and had tried to ignore him as much as I could. But that morning, I’d come in from Carlie’s, my best friend who’d lived next door to us since we were five, to meet him reclined on the living room sofa. It was surprising because he was never down from his bedroom that early in the day, and a conventional thought on my tantrum the previous day was long overdue. His silence had already got me thinking, that maybe he really didn’t give a damn about me.
Calmly, and just as if he was reminding me that the plastic milk jug in the refrigerator had long expired, he announced that I was going to boarding school.
“What?”
Flicking onto another channel, he said in a bored voice. “I’ve repeatedly warned you against spending the night at Carlie’s without my permission, but you’ve blatantly ignored me every single time.”
“I don’t get it, how does that correlate to you sending me to boarding school?” I asked, certain that he was bluffing. I’d never known him to about anything else in the past, but I just couldn’t believe that he actually meant what he was saying.
He ignored the question, and rose from the sofa to head into the kitchen. After a few moments of waiting f
or him to respond, I’d started to turn away in irritation when he’d stopped me again.
“Start getting your things ready, you’re leaving in September,” he said, and at that, I’d whirled around to face him.
“What do you mean I’m leaving?” I asked, now alarmed. “I’m starting eight grade in September.”
“No, you’re going to boarding school.” He said, and without taking his cold watchful gaze off me, lifted a glass of water to his lips.
Tears rushed to my eyes as I finally realized that he was serious. My body began to shake. “Is this a joke?”
“No it isn’t,” he said. “Lenora your anger has become unmanageable.”
“So you’re kicking me out?”
“I’m not kicking you out; I’m giving you a change. You need it.”
I tried to speak but it felt like I would choke on the anguish that had tightened my throat. I eventually did, and each word was thick with the pain that I had bottled up for so long.
“I have been trying to be okay. I’ve been quiet –”
“That’s the fucking problem!” he suddenly yelled, startling me.
“Quiet anger- that’s what it is right? It’s been three months, and this is the first time that I’ve seen tears in your eyes.”
I brushed away the irritating display that had now rolled down my cheeks.
“You have been cold and brutal to everybody, and not once have you shared anything that’s going on inside you. I can see the poison accumulating and at the rate you’re going, I doubt that you’ll ever be able get it out.”
Another tear fell, and slid down the side of my face as I glared at him with all the hate that I could muster. “Why won’t you just let me handle this the way I want to?”
“I have let you,” he said. “I’ve tried to give you time but you’re still not handling it, so you have until September to become human, or I’m sending you away.”
I was now terrified, but never in a million years was I going to let it show. He’d lost the privilege of my honesty towards him during all the years he’d preyed on my mother’s weakness with him. So I’d glared at him with a hate that I hoped would cut him as deeply as he’d cut me, and turned around to head to my bedroom.
The choice had been tough, but I knew that I wouldn’t have survived if I’d handled it the way he wanted me to. So I’d become even more hardened and kept silent all through the summer. In September, I was on a plane and on my way to Lancaster Academy.
I was in my third year now, and still, the only thing I liked about the school was how much it resembled the ‘Lancaster Castle’, which was the oldest standing building in the town. The academy had existed for almost a century, so sometimes, I allowed myself to get carried away and pretend that I did live in a castle.
However, things like strands of hair trapped in water puddles on the counter, and smeared toothpaste around the edges of the sink were always sufficient enough to irritate me back to reality. I rinsed my mouth, and hurried back into the stall.
*
9:04 am saw me running down the already deserted hallway, and then opening the door to my first class of the day. It was Maths, and Mr. Barron had already arrived. He was standing behind his wooden desk going through a stack of papers, and as I walked as silently as I could into the classroom, I prayed that he would ignore me.
He didn’t.
“Nice of you to join us Miss Baker,” he said, and I froze mid-creep. Sighing, I wondered why he never deemed it fit to just leave me alone. Other teachers got that I wasn’t completely normal and they let me be, even flat out ignored me most times, but this one never did.
“Why are you late again?” he asked, but I didn’t feel like cooking up an excuse like I usually did. Once, the story had been that a spill of cranberry juice on the sleeve of my white dress shirt had forced me to return to my dorm to have a quick change. Another time, it had been a quick trip to the infirmary for an upset stomach that had plagued me all night, and so on the list went. He never believed me, of course, but today, I couldn’t work up the need to lie so I just told the truth.
“I woke up late.”
“And why did you wake up late?”
“I don’t know,” I replied, upset that he was making me stand there with the eyes of the entire class on me. I wanted to yell at them to turn away and mind their business.
“Let it happen again and we’ll take a trip to the headmaster’s office.” he threatened, but he’d made so many similar promises in the past and broken them every time, that they didn’t mean anything to me anymore. Relieved that he finally let me go, I headed to my desk which was the last one on the first row from the left.
The room was as regal as a school built to resemble a castle could get, with polished mahogany furniture, intricate wooden mouldings and high windows. Mr. Barron began to speak so I looked towards the front of the room and tried to pay attention, but after jerking awake twice from dozing off, I gave up trying and turned to gaze out of the window.
Although the sky was clear there was no sunshine, so a slight chill still remained in the air. Egrets were strewn across the courtyard; some were pecking away at the ground, while others just hung atop the wooden picnic tables and benches. A particular one caught my eye, and as I watched it, I felt a small stirring inside my chest.
With lovely white plumes and an impressive stance, it stood on the edge of the table with its neck outstretched, and just stared, as if it was watching something that only it could see. It was beautiful, but it’s long, thin and naked legs, dented its grandeur.
I watched it and thought of how each time I’d returned home for breaks, my father had expressed his disappointment at how completely frozen I’d become. For a normally astute man, it had surprised me at how he’d seemed to completely believe that I had turned into a hardened mess, instead of the hurting girl that I knew that I was. I hid everything I felt just because I’d managed to convince myself that if I did it long enough, then maybe the memo would reach my heart, and it’d stop hurting so goddamn much all the time. It terrified me that I might always feel this way because it was exhausting, but what I truly wanted was not to heal, but to become desensitized enough not to notice that I hadn’t.
Today however, I chose to rest in the hope that if I really was able to pull through without falling apart, there would be a reduced cause for concern because for once, it would be a huge step in the desired direction. So with a small smile that I allowed to curve my lips, I started to condition myself to look forward to it when Mr. Barron’s bark doused my reverie like water to flames.
“Grace!” He yelled out my middle name.
I gave him an icy look that would probably have made any other teacher uncomfortable, but not him. He always made me remember that I was just an angry fifteen-year-old, all bark and no bite, instead of the oddity the other teachers had marked me out to be. And from a conversation that I’d once had with Carlie, I’d been informed that my wild mane of dark brown, slightly curly hair and light grey eyes, cast a shadow around me that seemed to amplify my already peculiar nature. So yeah, people did find themselves a little wary when I was around.
“I suppose you’d very much like to join the egrets outside, wouldn’t you?” he asked, and I was almost amused. Stretching my lips into a humorless smile, I gave him my answer, and as he looked away shaking his head, I was sure that he comprehended that with no apology whatsoever, I would have loved to.
*
The rest of the morning crawled on as I stared blankly through the remaining four periods. To my right was Danielle, a quiet French girl with dark hair and a sphinx-like smile, who was every bit as detached as I was. But unlike me, she seemed more lonely than alone, and her nervous smile when people found reasons to talk to her always gave away her relief. I on the other hand, appeared aloof whenever people spoke to me, and it always came across as impatience. Most of the time I intended it, but at other times I didn’t; it had simply become my default facial expression.
In
front of her was Cassandra, the ‘Olivia’ of my class whom to my annoyance, had spent the entire morning chatting away with Ryan, the boy in front of her whom I had classed as the male version of Olivia.
I sighed and shook my head. The way I classed people as versions of Olivia, I was starting to become concerned that I would need therapy later in life to get rid of my ‘Olivia complex’. It was just that she was so one-dimensional … or maybe I was the one that was one-dimensional. Maybe just like the way I chose to see only her snotty side, others chose to see only my snobby side, and I was more than that. At least I hoped so; sometimes it scared me how much I liked to be away from people.
Anyway, in front of me was Adrian, and he was a light-skinned guy with curly hair. Although he was among the ‘cool’ ones in our year, he shamed the stereotype of dumb hunks and actually paid attention in class. It impressed me, and made me feel guilty every time I dozed off which was more times than I was proud of.
Then all the way across the room, with pink-rimmed glasses and long legs, was Kate Wilson. She got up and started to head towards me the moment the much awaited lunch bell, pierced the dulled atmosphere of the compound.
She was my … friend. In the sense that I did like, her but for some reason, I wasn’t completely comfortable around her. With creamy skin, chestnut brown hair and hazel eyes, she was quite pretty and kind, and that, at Lancaster Academy, stood out like a chicken amidst hawks.