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Krista wagner
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Intent: The Beginning is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 by Krista Wagner
All rights reserved.
Published by Amazon Digital Services LLC
ISBN-10: 1723922943
ISBN-13: 978-1723922947
ASIN: B07HL5QSNM
Printed in the United States of America
This book is dedicated to all my faithful readers. Thank you for your support.
ONE
Silver Canyon High School
Junior Year, 1992-1993
Raylee was heading to her first day of junior year at Silver Canyon High, the only high school in Silver Canyon, which was, perhaps, one of the smallest towns in Central California, and the place where she’d lived her entire life.
Though a flat valley of grasslands, it was enclosed by mountain ranges and ran parallel to a coastal sage scrub, giving the outlining of the town an emerald carpet appearance. Running inland from the Pacific Coast, the weather patterns tended to be dominated by cooler temperatures and less dry hot weather than Southern California. In other words, their climate was wet or storm-filled half the year.
Her mom was driving her for the first day, to help her ease back into things. She'd start driving herself tomorrow. The windows down, a low breeze brushed against their faces.
“Who knows?" Her mom went on in her pleasant way of speaking. “Maybe you will meet your future husband here, like I did."
Raylee responded with a weak smile, squirming in her seat. Guys didn't exactly flock to Raylee. She managed to freeze up or spit something out of her nose. Plus, being around guys she found attractive removed the rational part of her brain within seconds.
Her mom, on the other hand, was a Carol Brady type—always happy, in control, content. She doted on her so much, Raylee thought, because she was an only child. Raylee appreciated the attention, but sometimes she wondered if she deserved it. After all, she and her parents didn’t agree on a lot of things, like what high school to go to.
Royal High School in Waterman, a nearby town, was Raylee’s first choice. Boasting a brand-new campus, it featured shiny new classrooms and a principal who didn’t talk down to the students. Word had it that Waterman also boasted a lot of hangouts for kids, like a mini golf place, a Dairy Queen, a drive-in, even an ice-skating rink. In a place like that, she could really enjoy herself, maybe even find new outlets and new friends.
Silver Canyon, on the other hand, didn’t have much more to offer than a shabby movie theater that played movies two months after their release, and a burger joint, owned and operated by her Aunt Kim, her mom's sister. Not exactly a place for teenagers to thrive. But it was where her parents once attended, where they started to date, and where Raylee was expected to carry on the family tradition.
They were pulling up to the front of the school where tons of other parents were also dropping off their kids. As Raylee swung open the car door, her mother shouted, "Have a great day!"
Raylee smiled back, not for the first time wondering how her mom carried an optimism and confidence that Raylee herself practically lacked.
On her way into the front hall, she noticed a lot of changes on the inside of the walls. New posters and banners, even new paint. Each department touted notices.
She was taking drama for the first time. A bit shy around people she didn't know, she'd been in a few elementary school plays and discovered that the shyness disappeared when she was up on stage. Hopefully, there was an after-school club she could be a part of. She was starting to feel excited about drama.
She scanned each flyer. Chemistry announced a science club. Math flaunted an academic group. History, a blast to the past society. Theater boasted no announcements.
Raylee's shoulders slumped. She'd hoped to see some kind of after-school club, an opportunity to make friends. As she headed off to class, she thought about how huge Royal High's theater was; there'd been a newspaper article about the school, and a special section on its monumental Drama Department. She could see herself there taking off, honing her skills, making her way toward a more certain future.
Swarms of students squeezed past her as she searched for first period. Although already in her third year at Silver Canyon High, she still felt swallowed up in the mess of students that strolled up and down its halls.
Finally, she came to the room where she would start the day with English. Sighing with relief, she opened the door to the classroom and dropped into a free seat in the middle of the room.
English was one of her favorite subjects. She'd grown especially fond of the Russian classics. Ever since she’d laid eyes on the writings of Dostoyevsky, Chekhov, and Tolstoy, the Russian language fascinated her--beautifully lyrical, of a rich complexity, and wonderfully mysterious.
Beneath the intricacy of the words rested expressions both confident and impassioned. Perhaps this latter reason mainly affected her decision to pursue a degree in Russian Linguistics; she planned to apply to an out-of-state program, which she was told was the best in the country, and where she could learn the root of the language, discovering ways in which to empower her words.
The clock behind the teacher’s desk indicated that there were still three minutes until class started. To pass the time, she counted the seats around her—twenty-five total—ample opportunity to make a friend or two.
When she glanced back to the front of the room, bordering the blackboard, she noticed posters of different literary works—Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet, Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights, and Ray Bradbury’s Something Wicked This Way Comes.
She was thrilled with the teacher’s taste, but the last title caught her eye in particular; Raylee hadn’t had the chance to read that one. She’d enjoyed reading about Montag’s rebellion against the unethical burning of books in Bradbury’s more popular work, Fahrenheit 451, and was looking forward to more storylines that explored unconventional evil. She hoped they would cover Something Wicked this semester.
By the time she'd finished gazing at the posters, a boy with thick black hair that swept across his shoulders in soft waves made his way into the room and plopped into the seat a couple of rows over. She turned to see who it was and quickly ducked her head.
Raylee harbored a certain weakness for dark-haired boys, and this one, Donald Schwartz, was no exception. During freshman year, Donald and Raylee dated for a little while. He was the only boyfriend she'd ever had.
Not wanting to communicate any hint of desperation, she tried not to let on that she’d noticed him, keeping her attention on the rest of her classmates that were filling in the remainder of the seats.
A moment later, Mrs. Adams, according to the class schedule, took her place behind the large metal desk at the front of the room and wrote her name in big sprawling chalky letters across the blackboard.
Everyone was seated forward, no one speaking, not even in whispers, uncertain about Mrs. Adam’s expectations.
She wore her blond hair up in a high ponytail, like a little girl, but her demeanor seemed poised and business-like.
“Good morning, Class!" she suddenly spoke as she turned away from the board, dropping the chalk on her desk. "Welcome to Honors English. I would like to start the year with everyone introducing themselves. Just give us your name, your favorite hobby, and share something surprising about yourself."
The class broke the silence, bursting with excitement as students shared interesting facts about themselves.
Laughter spread like contagion as students shared funny expe
riences.
Raylee’s spirit lifted. Maybe this year wouldn't be as bad as the last two years; she'd spent most of that time feeling awkward and out of place.
But by the time it was Raylee’s turn to share, she found herself suddenly tongue-tied and could barely remember her own name.
“I'm Raylee. . .I. . .like languages, other than English. I mean, I like English. . .but I also like other languages."
Really, Raylee? Could you sound any more scatterbrained?
“And tell us something about yourself that would surprise us." Mrs. Adams didn’t seem to notice how nervous she was.
“I, uh, I. . .I like acting."
Some skater guy named Josh in the back row guffawed. “Good luck with that!"
Mrs. Adam’s stony look cut the laugh off at once, and the boy took in such a sharp breath that he ended up coughing. The rest of the class laughed lightly. Mrs. Adams smiled, but then drew everyone’s attention to the remaining students.
“My name’s Donald Schwartz. I like playing football, I just joined the varsity team, and I grew up in Germany. I’m an Army brat."
She was glad when the bell rang for next period. Paul McCoy, her best friend, would be in her next class.
That next class, history, was dreadfully boring. Raylee was having the hardest time staying awake. She could have appreciated the content of the course if it hadn’t been for Mr. Boreman—yes, that was his actual name. It was only their first day back, but she was pretty certain that the rest of the semester would guarantee the same dull continuity.
The only thing that was keeping her conscious was her friend, Katy Myers, a cheerful girl who laughed a lot and kept her sane in dire circumstances like sitting in history class.
She was currently throwing paper airplanes at Raylee's feet from two seats back. Their monotone teacher was too enthralled by his own voice to even notice.
The paper notes weren't just shaped into planes, they held cryptic messages. Well, relevant song titles. Katy spent many hours immersed in music, realizing that so much could be said in so little words. As a way to expend humor, she sometimes formed succinct replies with a song title.
Amidst the boring droning of their teacher, six words stretched across the paper plane: 'Battle of Who Could Care Less'.
Raylee snickered, which caught Mr. Boreman's attention. He merely blinked at her, chalk in hand, before turning back to the board to write out today's assignment.
Unfortunately, Crystal Jordan and Gina Sanders, the two most popular girls, and whose mission seemed to have been to tease her throughout freshman year, were in here too, sitting at the back of the class. They were busy glamorizing themselves, applying lipstick and mascara as they gazed into their hand-held mirrors.
Thankfully, Paul McCoy plopped into the seat next to her right then.
"Sorry I'm late," he whispered to her. "My locker got stuck."
Last year, when Raylee first met him, she learned that history was his favorite subject and assumed that they would have nothing in common. She'd been wrong. Turned out, he was fun to talk to. They became best friends almost instantly. He wasn't like most guys, who didn't take the time to get to know her. He was genuine, caring, good.
Paul was pretty good-looking too. His sandy blond hair was cut short, almost buzzed, and he had soft hazel eyes.
Mr. Boreman didn’t waste a second continuing the class discussion, droning on about some dates in the 19th century. Raylee lost interest after a second, maybe two, and begin scribbling Donald's name in her notebook.
She was startled when Paul leaned over to see what she was writing. Defensive, she closed the notebook. Paul snickered. He knew all about how she'd dated Donald.
Then feeling slightly guilty about not listening to the lecture, she reluctantly gave her full attention to the teacher.
The final twenty minutes of class felt like four hours, but she managed to keep focused on the lecture; she even learned a few things about the War of 1812, though she didn’t understand how it all started.
From last year's juniors, she’d heard that Mr. Boreman liked to give pop quizzes every week. She was considering asking Paul for help. Raylee was usually shy around boys, but she noticed that wasn't the case with Paul. It was obvious that he was a history geek. His eyes were glued to the teacher as he took down meticulous notes.
A light bulb flickered in her head next. Yes, that’s what was different about him. He cared. Most students didn’t spend much time giving their full attention to class sessions, no matter the subject, nor did many of them seem to regard with much interest anything that came out of Mr. Boreman’s mouth. But there was Paul sitting straight up in his desk, his jaw slack, his gaze rapt. Not because he was a teacher’s pet or because he had nothing better to do, but because he genuinely cared.
She said a silent prayer thanking God for his friendship.
Unfortunately, Crystal was in her next class too. Raylee managed to find a seat farthest away from her. This was her third time taking algebra, so Raylee remembered most of what she'd learned last year, even understanding it this time around. Thankfully, the period went by quickly and it was time for lunch.
On her way there, she ran into Katy and Paul, who were clustered into a small group of students.
"We have to go to the office to fix our schedules," Katy explained. "Apparently, there are a ton of students whose classes got mixed up. But don't worry, we still have history and chemistry together."
"Yeah, still with you in history, so you won't fall asleep," Paul chimed in.
Raylee smiled and watched the group of students being ushered down the hall.
Lunch hour turned out to be the hardest part of the day. Holding a tray of cafeteria food, she was dumbfounded how everyone seemed to have a group of friends, everyone but her. It didn't help that Paul and Katy, her only two friends, had to split to the front office.
Unwilling to linger in the imaginary spotlight that seemed to sweep across her as she stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, she quickly made her way over to a small back table, perfect for two, though she was the only one to occupy it for the whole period. Fortunately, everyone seemed overly engrossed in conversation to notice her sitting all by herself.
As she chewed on a tater tot, she dared to scope out the nearby tables. Cheerleaders dressed in uniforms of silver and blue, the school’s colors, leaned into each other with elated expressions, immersed in a world that seemed to Raylee like a secret society. At the next table, a small group quietly ate their sandwiches, stealing furtive glances around the room as though they suddenly found themselves on a strange planet.
Is that how she looked too? Like a deer caught in headlights? No wonder no one wanted to come up to her.
Another table proved livelier, though, a bunch of football players huddled toward the center of the table as though ready to start a game, some of them even wearing their jerseys. Raylee wondered if the stereotype was true, that jocks only dated cheerleaders. She only cared because Donald was part of the group, a big step away from his previous loner state.
She didn’t think he could look any cuter than he had in English, but Donald, just sitting there in his uniform, caused Raylee’s heart to bounce.
She was sipping on her chocolate milk, wondering if they would ever talk again, when he turned his head to look at her.
She choked on her drink, chocolate milk squirting out her nose; she quickly spun to face the wall.
Raylee didn’t dare look behind her or move from her seat until the bell rang.
TWO
Raylee was looking forward to drama, a chance to expand on what little experience she had.
Their teacher, Ms. Cass, liked everyone to briefly share some things about themselves; she said it helped loosen them up and gave her a good idea of which roles would best suit them.
Raylee didn't stumble nearly as much as she did when they'd introduced themselves in English. The class was a smaller size, maybe fifteen
students, which Raylee liked as she didn't care for big crowds.
About halfway through the class, Principal Grabisch walked into the room, a student trailing behind him. Principal Grabisch stood out, a tall man wearing John Lennon glasses.
“Sorry for the interruption Ms. Cass, but we have a student whose schedule just got changed. Insisted he must be in your class." He winked as he made his exit.
Once the principal left, Ms. Cass asked the new boy to introduce himself.
"My name is Billy Thurman. I'm not new, been here since freshman year, but definitely new to all of you." His words were followed by a swoon-worthy smile.
Oh, no, why that word? She hated romances. But, against her will, she found herself feeling like she'd fallen into a dream, as cheesy and awfully corny as that sounded.
Aside from his deep black hair that was swept behind his ears and curled just below his chin, his eyes of blue were quite vivid. What a shame she hadn't seen him before.
Cool down, Raylee.
Ms. Cass asked him to share a little about himself with the rest of the class. His mom worked in real estate, and his dad worked in politics. His dad was already on the ballot for next year's mayor.
"My dad believes that change is possible through political outlets, and he hoped I'd pursue the same path." Here, he paused to smile. "Unfortunately for him, I'm more theater inclined."
Ms. Cass asked, "When did you know this was your niche?"
"Back in middle school. We had this huge theatre in Waterman."
"Well, I'm afraid we can't offer you anything of that caliber."
"No, this is wonderful. It's not about how big the place is. We're all actors here. We know that through acting, we can make the most impact. Think about it. You have the cheering, the laughter, the gasps of delight, people's emotions being affected in deeper ways than real life can offer."