BlackMoon Beginnings

by Kaitlyn Hoyt

  EVER SINCE THAT DREAM, I’VE worn Liam’s pendant around my neck. For some reason, I believe that it is going to protect me like Liam did. Protect me from what, though? I’m not really sure. I still don’t understand what actually happened while I was…there, but I’m taking the pendant as a sign.

  I finished reading the book, and spent the rest of the weekend studying like I used to before mom passed away. I could have been at the top of my class, but I stopped caring. Mom loved that I was doing so well in school. When she died, I no longer felt the need to try anymore. A part of me died when she did, and I still haven’t gotten it back.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  I roll over and turn my alarm off. I swear I’d just lain down to sleep; it can’t be time to get ready for school already. Unless my eyes deceive me, it is definitely time to start getting ready. I slowly get out of bed, and walk across the hall to the bathroom. I don’t hear Jane, so she probably already left for work this morning.

  I can feel the excitement in the air as I walk through the doors of the school. I only have to survive three more days. Three more days to bring up my English grade. Oh dear.

  The bell rings after second block, signaling the time for first lunch. I despise lunchtime. Everyone crowds in the cafeteria, gets their lunches, and then separates into their cliques: the stereotypical cheerleaders, the jocks, the nerds, etc. These cliques have been formed since middle school. Now in high school, everyone has a place. They’re sitting together, laughing, and discussing the latest gossip. Those who don’t have a place are the loners and outcasts. That’s where I fit in. I didn’t fit in at any table, and never really have, so I eat lunch in the library.

  “Good afternoon, Ryanne. How are you today?” the librarian, Mrs. Templesmith, asks politely.

  “I’m good. A little worried. I have to pass a test during fourth block if I want to pass the class.”

  “Oh goodness, you better get to studying now!”

  Laughing, I reply, “I will. I’ll sit in the back, so I don’t disturb anyone.”

  Walking to the back of the library, I place my bag on the table that I’ve officially claimed as my own. No one comes to this part of the library. It’s full of old historical books that only history buffs like to read. The area is filled with the aroma of aged pages. Some people like the smell of gasoline, freshly mown grass, or flowers, but I love the smell of old books. The yellowing pages and rough covers fascinate me. Books have many stories to tell, both on and off their pages. The words within the binding take me to a world much different than my own. When I get lost in a book, I forget about all my problems because I’m so engrossed in the character’s lives. They are full of fact and fiction, fully intertwined to create a masterpiece of unthinkable proportions.

  I sit down at the table and open up my lunch sack, pulling out my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I take a bite out of it, and reach for my book to flip through it one last time. I learned in my psychology class last year that cramming and last minute study sessions don’t actually help scores any, yet we all still do it. After about ten minutes, I hear footsteps in the row beside me, and a man starts whispering to someone.

  “No, I don’t know for sure if it is her yet, but I’m pretty positive it is. She doesn’t appear to know anything though. No, I’ve only spoken to her that one time. You were with me. You know what happened.” The man sighs. “I’ve been trying. I haven’t seen her yet. Fine. Fine. I understand. Class is about to start. I have to go.” I hear the sound of a phone shutting, and then footsteps walking away from my vicinity.

  I stay quiet for the next couple of minutes; afraid that whoever that was will catch me eavesdropping. When no one shows up, I pack up my belongings, and walk toward the front of the library.

  “Did anyone come in here during this block?” I ask Mrs. Templesmith when I stop by her desk.

  “No, I haven’t seen anyone. Why?”

  “No reason. Just wondering. Thank you. I’m going to head to class now. Bye, Mrs. Templesmith!”

  “Bye, dear! Good luck on your test.” She smiles and waves at me. She is always in a good mood. She’s one of the only people from this school that I will actually miss once this year ends.

  “Thanks!” I walk out of the library and down the hallway, staring at the floor as I go, not wanting to meet anyone’s eyes. Most people avoid me anyway. I enter my third block class, Government with Mr. Zane, right as the bell rings. He gives me a stern look. He hates when students are late to class.

  Mr. Zane is old. He wears large glasses, about half the size of his face that magnify his eyes. He reminds me of Geri from the Pixar short, Geri’s Game. He can’t hear very well, so he talks incredibly loud. Apparently, he thinks our hearing is as bad as his. To top it all off, his lectures are incredibly boring. His monotone voice drones on until the very end of the block, making the class seem twice as long.

  Still giving me the stern look, he walks over to the door, shuts it, and turns off the lights. The only light comes from the PowerPoint presentation being projected at the front of the classroom, but because the background is white, it gives me enough light to continue my doodles.

  An hour and a half later, he turns the light back on, and the bell rings. I close my notebook without fully looking at it, gather my belongings, and walk out of the classroom.

  I am the first student in Mrs. Applegate’s classroom. The look of surprise when she sees me is priceless. I’m rarely on time to class. I sit at my desk, patiently waiting for class to start. Mrs. Applegate keeps shooting glances at me, most likely confused about what I am doing. I am determined not to fail this test. When the bell finally rings, I get a number two pencil out of my bag, and stare at the board in the front of the room.

  Mrs. Applegate stands up and walks to the podium, bringing her attendance list with her. Because my last name is Arden, I’m always first. When she is done taking attendance, she gives a brief spiel about this test: “This test has fifty questions, and a small essay afterward. You have the full class period to finish it. Good luck.”

  When I get my test, I look at the first question and smile. I know this. I can easily get an A on this. An hour later, I turn in my test, feeling confident that I did well. Mrs. Applegate looks at me, a question in her eyes. I smile at her. I can see the relief in her expression as I turn around and walk away.

  Walking back to my desk, I stumble on a backpack in the aisle. I hear snickers throughout the room, and know that my cheeks turn red from embarrassment.

  I sit back down, look out the window, and notice the peculiar weather. The sun is still out, but small rain clouds are slowly covering it up. After a few seconds, and without any rain, the clouds leave as quickly as they came, dissipating into the distance.

  I sit back in my chair, and get out my doodle notebook. I look down at the drawing I was working on earlier, and gasp. I see a few heads turn in my direction, but I ignore them. Encompassing the entire page, I’d drawn flames with intricate swirls and designs located inside. These are the same flames that were tattooed on Liam’s arm.

  When the bell rings, I jump up, and leave the room quickly. No one says anything to me as I make my way through the school and out the front doors. Rounding the corner, I look toward the house, and see that Jane is home again.

  “Hey, Ryanne, how did your test go?”

  “It was easy. I’m almost 100% positive I passed. Why are you home so early?” I ask, right as something falls in the kitchen. “Who’s in there?”

  “That’s excellent. Oh, Ross is over. He’s making dinner for me. You’re welcome to join us.” She looks so excited. She hasn’t stopped smiling since I walked through the door. I don’t want to intrude on them.

  “That’s okay. I can go to the library.”

  “Are you sure?” When I nod, she smiles wider. “Thanks, Ryanne.” She walks up to me and gives me a hug, before skipping back into the kitchen.

  I walk up to my room, and gather up some things: my iPod, my notebook, and a c
ouple pencils. I don’t really want to go to the library, but I don’t really have anywhere else to go. I grab the car keys off the small table beside the front door. I can hear Jane’s laughter in the kitchen as I pass, and I’m glad she’s happy, but I’m also sad, because I know that it’s happening already. The only person in my life who actually cares for me is going to push me aside and forget me.

  I quietly lock the front door, and take a step outside. I stop after a minute and groan. It is incredibly muggy; the muggy weather that occurs after a long bout of rain in the middle of a hot summer. The kind of muggy that makes your hair frizz, and leaves your body feeling sticky. This is the type of weather that dampens your mood the second you step out into it.

  Getting in the car, I turn the air conditioning on as high as it will go. My hair needs some sort of angel to save it from the impending poof. Whenever moisture is in the air, my hair becomes uncontrollably curly, frizzy, and I end up looking like a poodle.

  The library is located on the outskirts of town, so it doesn’t take long to get there. I drive the 35 mph speed limit, only having to stop at the one light in town. It is right in front of the BlackMoon Bookstore. My eyes are drawn to the building, but I am unable to see anything inside. I have this strange urge to go in, but I know that it will only lead to further embarrassment. When the light turns green, I pull away, and continue driving to the library.

  I park in the library parking lot, and notice the others cars there. There is a shiny red jeep parked at the far side of the lot. Crap. Lily and Adam are here. Lily and Adam are the most popular couple in school. Lily is the head cheerleader, and Adam is the head jock. Despite their amiable exteriors, they are full of evil. Santa wouldn’t even give them coal for Christmas.

  I walk into the library, and head to the back. Similar to the library at school, this one has an old historical section that I am most content in. Not many people frequent this area, so I should have some privacy. Everything is fine for the first half hour. I sit at my table with my headphones in, listening to The Cab while adding more details to the flame drawing. I want it to be perfect.

  I don’t hear the footsteps coming toward me until it’s too late. The notebook I’m drawing in is ripped off the table out of my reach. Even before yanking my headphones out, I know who did it. It was only a matter of time before they found me.

  With a frustrated sigh, I ask for my notebook back.

  “Look Adam, she can talk,” Lily says. “Maybe after I finish looking at it, Ryan.” She never says my name right. Ryanne. Ry-Anne. It’s not that difficult. I know Lily only does it to bother me, and I usually just ignore it, but I’m not going to take it today.

  I jump up from the table, and walk toward her. With my most challenging voice, I put my left hand on my hips, and reach for it with my right. “Please give it back.”

  Nothing I could have said or done would have helped my case. She is about 5’11” without heels on, and I am a good eight inches shorter than her. I wouldn’t have been able to reach the notebook anyway.

  “I don’t think so. Your mother wouldn’t want you to spend so much time drawing. She would be very disappointed in you. I hear you aren’t graduating with the rest of us. How sad.”

  I hate when anyone talks about my mom, especially people who never met her. I feel tears well up in my eyes, but I refuse to let them see them. She pushes the notebook toward Adam, and returns to looking at her nails. Adam opens it up, and starts flipping through the pages. The lights in the library flicker as the thunder rolls outside.

  I turn around and gather up my stuff. Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I start to walk away when I hear a deep voice behind me.

  “Give it back to her.” Lily, Adam, and I all turn to see who is speaking.

  Colton.

  I ignore the slight flutter in my stomach at the sight of him. Lily and Adam scoff; no one tells them what to do.

  “Walk away, Colton. She’s not worth it,” Adam says.

  “Give her back the notebook.”

  “It’s fine. I don’t need it.” I just want to get out of the library. I don’t like confrontations. I try stepping past Adam, but he moves in front of me, blocking my exit. His large hand fully wraps around my upper arm as he pulls me toward him. I can tell that I am going to have a bruise there. I let out a surprised gasp as I collide into him. Slowly, his hand starts moving down my back.

  This brings back too many memories, and I start to panic. He wouldn’t try anything in public, would he? I try pushing away from him, but Adam has a strong grip on me.

  “Let go. You’re hurting me, Adam.” He isn’t looking at me though. He is looking over me at Colton.

  While the two are locked in an angry glare, I kick Adam in the shins, and grab my notebook from his hand when he bends down. Before anyone can think about what I did, I run out of the library, and go straight to the car. How do I always get myself into those situations?

  By the time I make it to the park, it is getting dark, but I know I can’t go home yet. Pulling off to the side of the road, I turn the engine off and get out. The park reminds me of my childhood. My mom and I used to come here, sit under the gazebo, and have a picnic almost every Sunday in the summer. I have many fond memories of this place.

  My body instantly takes me where I want to go. The gazebo looks the same as it did years ago. The park is covered in trees, so the gazebo blends in with its surroundings. It is old and wooden, it’s brown coloring faded with age. Vines wrap around all eight posts, and small twinkling lights wrap around the top, illuminating the whole structure. It almost has a magical feeling to it.

  I walk up the small stairs, and brush my hands across the old wooden façade. I can tell that no one comes out here anymore. The gazebo looks neglected. I brush away some dirt from the ground and sit down. Leaning my head back against the post and getting lost in my thoughts, I let a few tears fall—the first tears I’ve cried in over a year. This place reminds me of her.

  I close my eyes, pull my knees up my chest, and rest my head against them. With my eyes closed, I just listen to my surroundings. All around me, I can hear the sound of the light rain hitting the top of the gazebo, and the subtle breeze rustling the leaves against each other. In my mind, I can imagine them communicating with each other in this manner; their slight touch creating whispers in the wind. On this early summer day, I can hear the crickets chirping somewhere in the distance. Every now and then, the sound of a car driving by can be heard. The road is far enough away that it’s not disturbing to the woodsy atmosphere.

  “Are you okay?” I jump up. I wasn’t expecting anyone to find me here. I didn’t think anyone knew where this was, my secret place. I look over, and see Colton staring at me with concern in his eyes.

  I quickly wipe my tears away. “I’m fine.”

  He walks into the gazebo, and sits his large frame across from me. He looks awkward; it is almost comical. The gazebo is meant for children, and his six-foot frame barely fits under it. I would have laughed if my mind weren’t elsewhere. He shakes off the rain from his jacket, and pushes his hood back. His hair is messy, but on him, it’s a good look. Running a hand through his hair, he attempts to fix it.

  “You don’t look fine.”

  I just stare at him. I barely know this guy. The first time I ever met him was at the bookstore last weekend. “I’ll be fine.”

  “This isn’t about what happened at the library, is it?”

  I wrap my arms around my legs, and look off into the distance. He’s perceptive; I’ll give him that. “No, I’m used to that.” I pause and look down, avoiding eye contact. “My mom and I used to come here when I was a kid,” I whisper.

  “I’m sorry about your mom.”

  “I don’t want your sympathy, Colton. I can’t take it anymore. Everyone treats me like I’m so fragile—like I’m made of glass, and going to break at any second.”

  He continues to stare at me, expressionless. I can’t decipher what he is thinking about, but that doesn'
t matter, because he speaks up after a few seconds. “I understand what you're going through. I lost my parents too. I live with my aunt and brother. You've met her. She owns the bookstore.”

  “Oh.” I wasn’t expecting that, so I’m not sure how to respond. He won’t stop looking at me, and his incessant staring is starting to bother me. I begin to fidget under his gaze, my thoughts turning into mush. I can’t concentrate or think straight. I know that my face is slowly turning a deeper shade of red, but I’m hoping that it isn’t as obvious under the dim illumination. “Stop looking at me like that.”

  With a small laugh he replies, “Like what?”

  “I don’t know,” I point at him. “Like that. Like you’re doing right now.”

  He starts laughing—it’s a pleasant laugh that sends my stomach into a fit of butterflies. I just met this guy. I shouldn’t be reacting like this already. “Ok, I won’t look at you.”

  “Thank you.” At that moment, my phone beeps. Thankful for the distraction, I open the text. It is a message from Jane: Going over to Ross’s for the night. You have the house to yourself. Good luck on your finals tomorrow! I frown. Alone again.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I have to go.” I get up, and walk out from under the gazebo. Then, remembering what he did earlier, I stop. “Thanks for helping me in the library, Colton.” I turn back around, and run down the path toward the car, trying to avoid the steady rain.

  I feel his eyes on me the entire time.