Chapter One – Preparations
Jenna Tomas
I woke up this morning with a strange feeling. Not like something was wrong, but just... strange. Like someone was watching me while I looked around my untidy room, still not completely back-to-earth.
I angrily shove the book under my pillow and sighed. Reading didn't really help me getting asleep, as well as the warmth. I could hardly stand it. How could someone ever sleep like this? Maybe I should ask my aunt if I could sleep on the roof.
That reminded me of the fact that I had not opened my window. Which explained why I was sweating like hell.
So I got up and opened my window while I prayed for a single non-existent breeze.
I got back to my bed and paid no attention to the mess on the floor, which contained a pair of sneakers, scraps of paper and jogging pants. I put my awful, brown locks in a knot on the top of my head (as far as I was able to put it on the top of my head; I really sucked at controlling my hair) and laid down. Oh, if I could only be sure of a peaceful night! I would sail the seven seas for a dreamless night. They got even fuller of stupidity the last time. It wasn't unusual if I dreamt of walking with massive lynxes, being chased by a gold-haired, red-eyed angel or pre-historical scissors. I looked to my left and, in the light coming from the lantern in front of my window, I could see my old stuffed lynx. The last time I'd touched it was a week ago, when I had accidentally dropped it on the floor while I stumbled awkwardly around with my crutches.
My crutches. Ouch.
Mental punishment! Nothing better to punish someone. In my case, it was a punishment for my own stupidity. I had a job at the riding school (I guessed I'd been fired since I proved myself very incapable of riding), but I didn't really ride horses, although I knew the basic things from my boyfriend and fellow worker Nicola. So when we had to escort a tilt car full of old ladies on a small tour through the park, we'd thought that I could ride a small pony to escort it.
Stupid decision.
Really, it was just a awfully small pony, no higher than my shoulder (head included, that's even worse). But apparently, I wasn't able to keep my grip on the pony and my own consciousness. As the doctors told me when I woke up in the ambulance, I'd fallen from my pony. The pony did not wish to agree with my lack of control and went out of control itself. It added a broken rib to the list of what I'd already caused to myself: bruised ankle, a killing headache and strained muscles everywhere. I do not blame the pony in any way, I just want to head-wall myself. C'mon, I worked with horses so high that you'd almost went hiding in some lonely corner, and I fell of a pony that wouldn't hurt a fly.
So I spent some time in the hospital. I really enjoyed my stay with daily visits of doctor Jackass - er, , he had such an ego. He was narcissistic or he was a great fan of Gilderoy Lockhart. I was quite sure they'd be friends for life.
I was finally released a week ago. My aunt Rosie was very relieved to have me back home - not only because she had died of loneliness and lack of some good coffee, but she liked to keep an eye on my breakable head.
But there were some bad parts, too.
I had to go to school again tomorrow and face all my classmates, who would surely want to know every single detail of what happened to me when they weren't able to see for themselves. Of course, they could have visited me, but who ever cared? Even Nicola didn't show up. Sigh. I wondered if one and a half month had changed our relationship - or the fact that I was more stupid than he'd thought. Maybe his friends finally convinced him. Luke and Zeke were always picking on me, so it was quite hard for Nicola to stand between me and his friends. That was why we didn't do sticky lovers-things at school, but kept that part for the ride home when we were finished at the riding school.
I'd better keep those kinds of thoughts out of my head if I didn't want to start hyperventilating.
And so, I slowly moved away into warm darkness.
I did not try to protest.
I woke up too early that morning, probably because of the warmth. Bah bah. I just couldn't get used to it.
I stood up and started my morning ritual. Rosie joined me a little later, so I made us a cup of coffee. It didn't really help me calm down since my heart started to flutter in my chest, but I was at least clear. Jenna, I spoke severely to myself, you are not going to die. Don't act like a baby. Take a deep breath and let's go.
"Bye, Rosie," I said as cheerful as I could and grabbed my bag.
"Bye Jennie-penny," she said and then grinned. I pulled up an eyebrow.
"What's the matter, Rosie-cosy?" I asked. Had I forgotten some important things - shoes, for example? Nope. I was completely dressed. My hair, then?
Rosie rolled her eyes at my nickname for her. Right. Then she shouldn't have called me Jennie-penny.
"You seem quite merry for a girl who's going back to school."
"Who wouldn't? School is fun! Nerds united!" I added and we both laughed.
"Well, go then," she said.
"Sure. See you tonight." Dang. Rosie had warned me that she would be later today, so I had to find something else to entertain myself. Maybe there was some movie on...
I continued thinking about this -hum hum- interesting subject while I drove to school. I was so glad Rosie and I had found some cheap car for me - an old Volkswagen Beetle, but it was still good and not expensive. Ah, I loved old stuff. Good ol' quality standard and since no one else wanted the "crap", we could get it for nothing.
I probably was the only one sharing this opinion with Rosie, since I was the only one with a Volkswagen Beetle on the whole parking lot.
I checked my cell phone and surprised myself. Wow, that was early. I should really get a prize - an annotation in the Guinness World Records, maybe.
I took a deep breath, repeated my motto -No one would bite me- and stepped out of the car.
It felt like coming home - everything had remained the same in the time I'd been gone. I didn't really have to think about the route I was taking while I walked to the secretariat.
"Hello," I said to Mrs. Hale and I quickly looked down to take my note of absence out of my bag that Rosie had written yesterday, so the school wouldn't think I'd been truanting.
"Hello," Mrs. Hale said in a friendly, but detached voice. "Where have you been, my dear?"
"Ill," I answered shortly and handed her the note. "Is that okay?"
"Sure, that's fine," Mrs. Hale answered, but I could see the curiosity dripping off her face.
"Okay, thanks," I smiled and turned around to walk away to meet my dusty friends in the school library.
I was already at my post when the buzzer rang.
My classmates were as curious as I'd expected, but I told them patiently to explain when we were in the classroom, just so I wouldn't have to tell the same story over and over again.
Luckily, Mrs Chauvel joined us pretty fast; she seemed to be surprised to see me back that soon.
"Hello, Jenna!" she said in a honestly surprised voice. Oh, I loved Mrs. Chauvel. She was the most friendly old lady I'd ever met. Apart from my grandmother, of course.
Ouch. A stab of old grieve in the hearth.
"Where have you been so long?" she asked as the whole crowd followed after her into the classroom. "I heard you were at the hospital?" A small frown of concern appeared on her front head.
"Er, that's right," I said and tried to ignore all the stares around me. How should I explain this.
"What happened then?" The frown did not disappear. Guilt for her concern forced the words to come out of my mouth.
"Well, er, I had an accident with a pony - really, it wasn't that bad," I added quickly when she gasped. "But the doctors wanted me to stay in the hospital, you know, just to be sure." Not. Mutually.
The frown of concern made place for pity.
"Well, go all to your seats, please," Mrs. Chauvel said when she noticed my classmates standing around me and talking to each other to discuss their probably really interesting weekend events. I turned away from her to go to my seat.
The only thing was that there already was someone on my seat.
The boy, or young man, as he looked so much older than sixteen or seventeen, seemed so unreal to me that I feared I had fainted or I was still dreaming my strange dreams. The difference was that this golden haired angel did not chase me, but stared at me with shock and fascination in his yellow-brownish eyes. Eyes placed in a face with such a stunning, impossible, inhuman beauty that my heart fluttered in my chest, my stomach turned around and my head was for one moment filled with the image of his face, surrounded by golden locks.
And then I stumbled forwards so I wouldn't keep staring at him like a total idiot.
I encouraged myself to go sit next to him by repeating my motto over and over again, trying to concentrate on anything but him. I put my books on the table for my French class and kept staring at them. I didn't have to look at him to know that he was staring at me; I felt my skin tingle under his eyes. Shoot, why did I blush? I felt like a complete idiot.
'Hello.' He sounded friendly and normal, as if I wasn't a flushing dork. His voice was like chocolate to my ears; soft and deep, with a special timbre that would break a girl's heart, including mine. I looked up – I had been scribbling some notes on my book to avoid looking at him – and smiled carefully at my neighbor to show I'd heard him. A smile I felt melting from my face like wax when he smiled a little smile, too. His face lit up while smiling; it almost sparkled. He didn't look so stunned anymore. I could have known it. I had never stunned anyone before; even Nicola didn't look at me that way. Some people would look "stunned" after one of my better actions during gym. I wasn't that bad at softball.
He offered me his hand and I kept staring at it for a moment until I realized he wanted to shake hands. It was a polite gesture, but quite strange for a high school student. I hesitated and then put my hand in his. I was surprised by the coolness and strange feeling of his skin. His skin was soft, perfect, but I felt like getting an electric shock when I touched him. It didn't feel unpleasant.
"Julien Valet, nice to meet you," he said, perfectly separating his French name from the English sentence that followed. Julien Valet. His name suited him. Apparently, he was French. If all French boys were as handsome – beautiful – as him, it wouldn't be hard to figure out why there were so many girls in the French classes. "You must be Jennifer."
"Jenna Tomas," I emphasized my name. "I don't like Jennifer." He smirked. I suddenly noticed we were still holding hands; we both let go at the same moment, as if he'd read my mind.
"I have been here for a week, but I haven't seen you till now," he said. "Have you been ill?" I was probably just being paranoid, because he had no reason to frown worriedly. Of course, my eyes met his eyes again and I had to rip them loose. They kept staring at me in my mind with their strange color; gold brown, like autumn leaves in a September forest. I couldn't help but thinking of my home back in Minnesota. Oh, mom and dad...
My voice was a little hoarse when I spoke. "Sort of. I broke some ribs and the doctor wanted me to take it slow for a while." The frown got deeper; I wanted it to disappear. I didn't like people to be worried.
"That must have hurt," he said. Unlike anyone else, he really seemed to care. He understood.
"It wasn't that bad." I expected the frown to disappear now, but it stayed. I looked at Mrs Chauvel; she was talking to some pupils. That meant I would be bored for a while... and there was more time to talk to him.
Unfortunately, someone else had another idea.
Someone kicked my chair.
I reluctantly turned my head to see Joanne smirking at me.
"What's up?" I asked. She made me bow closely towards her; Daisy giggled next to her.
"He's hot," Joanne whispered, completely superfluous.
"Well, yes," I said, irritated.
"Why don't you give it a try?" Daisy giggled louder.
"I have a boyfriend!" I hardly kept whispering.
"Oh, I forgot." She didn't sound like she had. "But choosing Nicola over him?"
"You can have him." I was done with the discussion. I turned around and suddenly wanted to cry. I had no idea what was wrong with Julien, but I wanted it to stop now – immediately. He looked like he was in pain or something. Like he had seen all terrible things ever happened together in one moment. In less than a second, I saw his face suddenly change; his pain turn into polite happiness. Probably, his pain wasn't something that had to be seen.
"So, you're an exchange student?" I concentrated on the way the sun shone on his light blond hair. It was easier talking that way.
"No, I have recently moved here with my uncle." I heard him hesitate when saying 'uncle', but I didn't ask like Joanne would have. I knew everything about painful family situations. Just his eyes had made me think of my parents again. I hardly resisted looking at them again. "We are living here just for a few months, but I think I'll stay." He looked surprised when I suddenly looked up, straighth into his eyes. Some part of the 'stunned' expression had returned.
"Why not?" My sudden confidence made my voice clear and steady. He looked as if he didn't understand me and bye bye, confidence. I blushed. "I mean, what's the special thing of Phoenix?" I had a hard time trying to make sense today. He was silent for a while.
"It's... different from where I have been before," he then said slowly. "I love the sun and the mountains, the colors." He stopped.
"You'll think differently about that after a while," I said. He grinned and my heart almost jumped from my chest.
"You're not from Phoenix, are you?" he said. I frowned; he was more observant that I'd thought.
"Nope, I'm from Minnesota."
"You sure miss it, don't you?" I sighed and looked up. I somehow needed the comfort he offered in his voice.
"I was six when I moved to Phoenix." I could still remember that horrible time with every detail. "I miss them every day." Shoot, had I said 'them'? I knew he'd heard that, but he didn't ask. We understood each other.
French went by in a rush, way to fast for me. I didn't want the class to end. Everyone looked relieved at the end of class. I surely was the only one who didn't.
"What's your next class?" I was mistaken; Julien looked reluctant to leave, too.
"Maths." I hadn't kept up, so I hoped Mr Rowland wouldn't ask me anything.
"Oh," he just said. "Well, I'll, er, see you later." He smiled a little smile at me and left me dazzled with my books.
"Bye," I said softly, too late for him to hear.
Life goes on, they say, and it did, but not fast enough for me. Most kids had heard of my 'illness' from Joanne, the gossip girl in school, but there were still enough to stalk me during lunch. I was actually relieved when I walked to my seventh and last class.
That happiness disappeared when I saw who was sitting next to my place – even earlier in the classroom than me.
Julien must have heard me, because he look around and smiled.
"Hello," I said to everybody in general – meaning, Julien and my teacher for history, who was writing something on the blackboard. Mrs Evans seemed happy to have me back.
"Hello! Nice to have you back in class again," she said. I smiled, though I was sure it looked like a grimace, and sat down next to Julien. The bell rang. Time to face hell.
"Hi," I said to him. We sat on the front row of class, directly facing the teacher's desk. Some people where early and tried to go sit on the last rows without getting an angry look of Mrs Evans. She would make sure everyone payed attention to what she was saying, but that wouldn't help if people slept on the last row. Which usually happened, by the way.
"Didn't expect to see you here," he said, grinning. It dropped my books on the table a little bit harder than I meant to.
"Why is that?"
"I don't know. I didn't expect you to be a history-person." I pursed my lips together and he just grinned more. He seemed to really enjoy all of this.
"Sorry if I angered you."
"You did. And you don't really sound like you're sorry," I replied accusing.
"I really am." I looked up. Something in his voice had alarmed me. It sounded like a promise. Promises weren't alarming, but the contains were. He sounded like he promised he'd protect forever with his own life or something sentimental like that. I shivered.
Mrs Evans quickly started our class. I tried to concentrate and made myself look like I was making notes, but I secretly thought of his eyes when he'd said he was sorry. So big and bright, with thick, black lashes that contrasted beautifully with the liquid gold of his eyes... I almost jumped off my chair when the bell rang because I had been so deep in my mind.
"I'll see you tomorrow!" Mrs Evans called. I hastily wrote down the homework she'd given us and packed my books.
"Well, see you tomorrow," Julien said. I suddenly was obsessed with the way his lips moved while talking. They looked so soft and full and perfect. I felt the sudden urge to be with him and talk for ages. I ignored it and wished him a good day, then walked out of the classroom. I need all my self-control to drive back home in my old Contour and not to hit some old woman. I was happy to be in my choking hot car, where I could be alone, far away from any bad temptations.
When I came home, I found a note from Rose, telling me she would be late from work and were I could find something for dinner. She also asked me to record Bones for her, so I put on the recorder and made some soup. I did my homework, cleaned up the kitchen, sent Nicola a message with 'I love u', even though it seemed fake some way, took a shower and even dried my hair until it was perfectly straight. It didn't help, because by the time I was done, there was still no Rose. And all I need was Rose, Rose and my home back in Minnesota. I missed the trees in the garden – the birches and pines, I missed the smell of pine wood, cinnamon and my mom's hair. I missed everything I'd lost ten years ago.
I went to bed early after turning off all the lights, except for the one in the hallway, just in case Rose would return. Maybe she'd found a nice guy. Finally. All her other relations had only lasted for a few months, two years was the maximum.
I waited in bed for tears to come. I suddenly wanted to cry. I wanted to cry about today, about my disastrous return to school, about the way I felt about Julien that was terribly wrong, about anything, just to cry. Maybe I'd spent all my tears ten years ago, after I heard about the car crash.
Something inside of me broke.
Tears came streaming out, finally free to flow, and I let it happen. I cried alone in my bed, loud, with no one to hear.
I thought I'd been ready to go back to school, to face all of this stuff. But something had changed, and now I wasn't sure what would happen. My daily routine had been disturbed.
It now seemed that the word preparation was something different than just packing your school bag.
