Sitting on my bed, I read it until Lana comes in lets me know that dinner is ready. It takes me by surprise since I didn’t even hear her come home. I had been reading for an hour without even realizing time was passing me by.
It happens rather regularly, though. I tend to get lost in my book’s world, and not come out until I’m disturbed. I don’t mind the distraction from my books, though. I would never return to the normal world if someone didn’t help me come back.
Following her downstairs, I sit in my usual seat at the dinner table, while dad places the veggies down to complete our meal. It’s a little unnerving to see all the activity around me after being cooped up in my room, unaware of time flying by.
I really need to learn to not get so engrossed in my books. It might even help me connect with my family a little better.
“Come on, Ian,” dad yells into the living room. “Dinner’s ready. Get off your lazy ass and get in here.”
Dad is always a little rude to Ian, since he is 21 and doesn’t have a job to help out with the bills or the rent. He attends his college courses, and then spends the rest of his time in front of the television. We never even see him do homework.
Ian is still getting an education, and has decent grades for how often he sits in the living room, so dad doesn’t really mind. He simply likes to give Ian a hard time about it. Dad’s humor is one of the things I love about him, and what’s connected us since mom passed. We don’t share sarcasm or jokes often, but I appreciate all his attempts.
The dinner-time dynamic is always a bit awkward for me, but pretty normal for the rest of my family. Everyone talks about their day or what they learned at school, while I sit quietly picking at my food and listening to their stories.
I love my family, but ever since mom died, and even more so after Ian became an adult, they treat me as if I’m an alien. The black sheep that no one really wants to associate with. I don’t think it’s on purpose, but it doesn’t make the feeling go away. It’s why I usually feel so lonely, even though there is always some sort of activity going on.
It doesn’t take us long to finish eating. I help dad clean up while Lana works on her homework at the table. Ian retreats to his video games.
I like this time with dad. Although we aren’t particularly close, he always does his best to talk to me and make me feel like I’m a part of the family. It’s comforting, but knowing how different I am from them still makes me feel ostracized.
It isn’t entirely their fault, though, and I appreciate that dad notices and cares enough to try and make me feel included.
We finish the dishes rather quickly tonight, and I dry my hands, preparing to go back upstairs to my room.
“It’s our family movie night, Sunny,” dad informs me.
I stop just before the stairs, turning back to look at him.
“Are you going to join us this time?” he continues. “We’re watching the third Harry Potter film. I know you like those books a lot. I thought you would, maybe, want to watch one of the movies with us.”
I inhale slowly before responding.
“Not tonight, but thanks, though. I’m just going to read a little longer and go to bed early.”
Sighing, I head back to my room. I feel bad declining his invitation when he picked a movie that he knows I love.
“Okay, sweetie,” he concedes. He seems disappointed. “You know you’re always welcome to join us, though, right?”
“Yes, I know. Thanks, dad.”
I give him a short, tight hug and he kisses me on the forehead before I escape to my sanctuary. There is a smile on his face, but there’s no escaping the sadness in his eyes.
One of these days, I hope I will feel close enough to my family to join them, but for tonight I want to do the same thing I do every night: sit on my bed, alone in my room, and lose myself in the world of one of my books.
* * *
The next day feels like any other day. I keep hoping something will change, but I’m continuously disappointed. I suppose it doesn’t help that I don’t change anything, but I’m trying not to focus on that.
I’m starting to think I’m going to go crazy if something different doesn’t happen. School goes by quickly enough, but I am a little sad that I don’t have anything to give Becky today to cheer her up. I hated seeing her so distraught yesterday, and don’t know what else I can do to keep her chipper.
Seeing that smile on her face was the highlight of my day, and now, I don’t have anything but my wit. I silently pray I will be able to make her laugh. I like to think I’m funny, but I’m no stand-up comedian.
I round the same corner as yesterday, and look to where Becky normally sits to find the sidewalk devoid of the little girl. Hurrying toward the alleyway, I hope that she is hiding there for one reason or another.
Walking quickly, I turn into the alley and stare down at the emptiness in front of me. That same emptiness seems to seep into my being and dampen my spirits even more. I walk to the end of the alley and kneel down to see the paper flowers still lying in their home, untouched.
With a sigh, I stand back up and turn around. I lift my head to see a boy walking back to the street, taking his time. I’m not sure where he came from, but whoever he is, he seems extremely out of place in the alley.
He’s wearing a strange black robe, with a sleeveless white jacket over it that reaches down to the back of his knees. If that isn’t strange enough, his hair is almost pure white – a few gray lowlights – and spiked up. He, also, looks to be slightly older than me.
The only somewhat normal thing about him is his height – he seems to be about half a foot taller than me and I’m 5’7”.
What is he doing wandering Becky’s alleyway?
I have never seen anyone else down this way.
“Hey!” I beckon, but he doesn’t notice.
I start walking towards him briskly, but he doesn’t stop. Continuing to call, I try to get his attention, but it doesn’t seem like he’s listening to me. Agitated, I pick up my pace and catch up to him just before he steps out onto the sidewalk.
Grabbing his wrist gently, I tug on it a little to see if he will turn around and face me instead of continuing to ignore me. I definitely get his attention, but he is way more startled than I anticipate. He grabs my arm and twists it around so that I’m pinned on my knees looking down at the ground with pain shooting up and down my shoulder and arm.
“You can see me…” I hear him whisper.
He isn’t talking to me, though, more to himself in amazement. I decide to respond anyway.
“Of course, I can see you, what are you – OW!!”
I’m unable to finish my thought. The mystery guy pulls up on the arm that is twisted behind my back, so a new wave of pain shoots through my shoulder.
“Quiet!” he yells down at me.
He doesn’t say it in a vicious or hostile way, but there is an authority in his voice that makes me stay still. I can feel him adjust his weight to look down at me and get a view of my body.
It’s a little weird and off-putting, but he speaks to himself again, this time loud enough for me to hear. I don’t think he was expecting me to understand or hear him.
“Her Life Line isn’t showing…could she be alive?” he says. “Then, how could she see me…”
I try to struggle under his grip, but he’s much too strong for me to get away from. He has me locked in my position. I can’t move an inch in any direction, but I keep trying. Raising my voice, I’m almost shouting to make sure he can hear me.
I’m ready to knock him out of his own thoughts and pay attention to the fact I can see him whether he believes it or not. Even if it doesn’t work, someone walking by will hear me and be able to help.
“Of course, I’m alive, why wouldn’t I be?” I scream at him, struggling beneath him.
He hesitates. It doesn’t affect his grip on me, but I can feel the hesitation in the muscles within his hands. We stand in silence as I try to escape his clutches. I
can’t help wondering what he’s thinking about, but knowing I can hear him must be keeping him quiet.
I’m starting to get anxious, though. He looks harmless from behind, but you never can tell with people nowadays. My nerves are about to run out. I’m going to start screaming for help if he doesn’t say something soon.
His voice is so low I can barely hear him when he finally makes a comment. His baritone resonates through my being and calms my soul. I haven’t heard anything like it, and no one’s voice has ever made me feel like this before.
It’s a sense of peace that I thought only exists in fairy tales. Yes, I’m completely aware of how ridiculous that sounds, but there’s no other way to explain it.
“I am sorry for hurting you,” he starts.
There is a hint of anger in his voice, but it isn’t aimed towards me. I think he’s angry with himself, but I can’t be sure unless he decides to tell me – which is unlikely.
“Please, do not tell anyone you have seen me,” he requests.
With all hesitation gone, he lets go of my arm, darts out of the alley, and turns back up the street toward my high school.
“Wait!” I cry, watching his jacket flowing behind him like a cape.
I want to ask him some questions, but he ignores me and keeps running.
Jumping up, I run after him, but when I turn the corner to get back onto the sidewalk, he’s gone. There’s no sign of him anywhere.
Befuddled, I keep looking up and down the street, hoping I will catch a glimpse of that strange black robe, white sleeveless jacket, and bizarre white hair, but I’m disappointed. After a couple minutes, I turn and make my way back home.
At least something different happened today.
Chapter 3
With the disruption of my usual day, nothing really feels right about being home tonight with my family. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but there’s almost a haze over everything that makes my skin itch. I almost feel feverish.
Everyone is their normal selves, it’s me that’s different. I feel peculiar, as if merely being in that boy’s presence is enough to change who I am deep down in my core. But how is that possible?
I didn’t even see his face.
The strangest part is, rather than feeling more disconnected from my family, I actually feel somehow closer to them. I’m enjoying spending the time with them outside my room. The only problem is the nagging feeling that I’m being watched.
Every once in a while, I look over my shoulder to make sure no one is there. No matter how many times I steal a glimpse behind me, there is nothing there but the nagging grows.
I barely catch the attention of anyone at school or receive any at home, so why in the hell would anyone suddenly start watching me now?
Not to mention it’s extremely creepy. I don’t even like it in the books I read. The only thing that has changed in my life is the appearance of the boy, but I highly doubt that has anything to do with it. I’m probably being paranoid.
After dad and I clean up the kitchen, I decide to take a walk instead of retreating to my bedroom as usual. Dad teases me by checking my forehead to see if I have a fever before letting me leave the house.
He laughs saying I am, actually, a little warm, but feel fine otherwise. He gives me hug with a smile, and makes sure I leave with a winter jacket. The perks of having a parent that trusts you to be responsible. Plus, our small town, Everbloom, is known for its low crime rate.
So, even if he didn’t have faith in me, I wouldn’t be in much danger to begin with unless I somehow created it myself. But that’s not like me.
When I shut the front door behind me, I’m not sure where to go at first. I sort of wander around town aimlessly to see where my feet take me. It doesn’t take me long to figure out where I’m going. I find myself traveling a very roundabout way back to Becky’s alley.
Not seeing her today makes me a bit sad. I don’t think it has anything to do with why I’m feeling so strangely, but it has definitely thrown me off. I have a feeling she won’t be there, but I have to make sure. I made a promise to her, after all.
It’s brisk, as I expect a November evening to be, but I’m glad the wind isn’t making it worse. Walking isn’t fun when you are shivering. I continue to walk slowly, enjoying the cool night air against my face and blowing through my hair.
I didn’t notice it until dad said something, but I definitely feel warmer than usual. Rather than being chilly, I’m almost sweating in my winter jacket.
Thankfully, the slight breeze makes it easier for me to think. I’m pretty sure my temperature has been slowly climbing since I almost got my arm ripped off by that boy. That has to be impossible, though…right?
My body temperature would only rise if I had the flu. I think. Yeah.
Except, I feel fine.
Glancing up from the street in front of me, I take a look at the billions of stars shining above. I continue to walk without fear of running into anyone or anything as the vicinity is completely clear of pedestrians, and all the stores are closed. That’s the benefit of taking a random walk so late at night in a small town. My peripherals are helping me not run into any poles or buildings, too.
However, I wish I had been paying more attention to my surroundings before now. I know I don’t have to worry about being attacked by buildings or running into a lamppost, but I swear I see a shadow jump from one building to another on my left as I roam. It causes me to stop in my tracks, and a chill to run up my spine.
I focus on the spot I had seen the shadow land, but I don’t see anything else move. I shiver, still feeling eyes on me. Walking again, I keep my peripherals trained on the buildings above me this time.
It doesn’t take me long to reach Becky’s alley. I turn into it and the air seems to drop a few degrees. It doesn’t look any different, but it definitely feels lonelier. The atmosphere is not the same as it had been yesterday. I hadn’t noticed it earlier since I was kind of distracted by my arm pulled behind me.
I walk to the end of the alleyway and sit down on an old tire, leaning my back against the wall. From here, I have a perfect view of the paper flower bouquet I gave to Becky yesterday.
It’s so strange that she’s gone. I feel like I’ve lost the only best friend I had. I kick at some pebbles near my feet, thinking about where Becky is now, and if she remembers me. I can’t help but be a bit angry at myself for not being able to ask that boy my questions earlier. He was my only link to her.
“Did you know the little girl?”
A voice startles me, coming from near the entrance of the alleyway. It’s so unexpected, I just about jump out of my skin I pop up from the tire so fast. There’s the boy from this afternoon standing in front of me now, and blocking my view of the street. At least I think it’s him since I never saw his face.
He has the same white hair, black robe, and white sleeveless jacket as the guy who assaulted me earlier. Even with all that, it’s the voice that has me convinced it’s the same guy that almost tore my arm off. There’s a mature, wise aura to his voice that has me more curious about him than anything else.
“What…?” I mutter.
That’s all my clever mind can utter seeing the boy in front of me again. I’m kind of embarrassed and ashamed of myself for not thinking of anything better to say, but I wasn’t expecting to see anyone – let alone him – and it catches me off guard.
“Don’t play timid,” he warns me.
It’s the gentlest warning I have ever heard, but there’s no question it’s a warning. It’s obvious I’m scared from our first exchange, so he’s astoundingly graceful in his tone to pull off the warning and comfort that allow me to be slightly less afraid to respond.
I kick myself a little. He almost breaks my arm and here I am allowing him to intimidate me. I should be angry and offended, but I can’t even make myself be angry with him. Something in my gut won’t let me.
“You heard what I asked,” he finishes.
“Uhmm…” I hesitat
e.
I look up from his outfit and tear my eyes away from his odd colored hair to look into his eyes. They immediately have me hypnotized. They are a deep shade of blue that I have never witnessed before. I have only read about love at first sight, so I didn’t believe it was possible until this moment.
Even though I know in my heart it’s love, my head remains logical and in denial. The first time I met him he had me pinned down on my knees, that is not love.
“I didn’t know her when she was alive,” I say, finally.
I may have found my voice, but it is little more than a whisper.
“I did my best to keep her company in death, though,” I admit.
“I see,” he speculates.
His features are unreadable. He looks very serious, an almost permanently annoyed expression on his face. His intense stare bores through me as if he is looking into my soul. If I have to guess, he is only a year or two older than me. Yet, his eyes show the wisdom of centuries.
I wonder what those eyes see when they look at me.
“Do you know what happened to her?” I croak.
My nerves at seeing him again mess with my voice. I have to be careful of what I say and how I say it. I’m more nervous than I should be, and don’t want him to run off and disappear like earlier. But I, also, want those answers.
“Yes,” he admits.
His expression is still unreadable. There’s a low boiling in the pit of my stomach from his lack of explanation. At least that’s what I want to believe. It’s the only logical explanation for it right now. I can’t really tell what the boiling feeling is.
“Well?” I hint.
He doesn’t respond, so I lay it out in plain English for him.
“What happened to Becky?”
“Becky?” he inquires. “So, that’s what her name was.”
“Yes, your insensitive prick,” I spit.
He looks at me with a glare that chills me to my very core, it even extinguishes the boiling for a moment. I don’t regret what I said, but this guy is not one to be messed with.
Waiting a Lifetime (The Waiting Series Book 1) Page 2