Saving

Saving Enthusiasm

My parent's decision to move to little old Forks was something that completely devastated my life. Okay, so I may be exaggerating a little bit. Or a lot. Whatever. What I'm trying to say is I had to leave behind my best friends. I have been suffering from some stupid unknown disease for three years now. The doctors say they have no idea what's causing it. They say something went wrong, starting with my liver. I know why. My stepdad gets angry sometimes. So does his eldest son. So they beat me. I know what you're thinking, what a horrible statistic or something, right? Well yeah, I agree. Before my mum remarried I would've said the same. The point is that my liver has suffered possibly incurable damage. When my mum found out, she lifted my shirt and saw the bruises. So did the doctor. She decided it would be a good idea to move states. She asked my dad if he wanted to come with us. He took her up on that offer and now they're finally getting along again. United in their grief. Mum hates herself, of course and I know I'm meant to say I forgive her, but I'm not sure I can. I would have been able to if it was just the beatings and the mean words. The sickness, and losing my friends, is too much for me right now. I'm only seventeen. I can't be expected to be all wise and forgiving, right?

Then why do I feel so bad?

I stood outside our new home. Dad lived across the street, in the grand old house he'd moved into a week ago, with his friend Mac. Our house was smaller, even thought it held more people, but it seemed friendlier. My room used to be the attic, but Dad and Mac worked on it all week when they remembered I liked high up spaces. It's above the garage, and it has a big window overlooking the street so I can see anything coming that way. They installed a smaller window looking out the back to the woods so I could see that way too. Lots of light gets in, but I have really heavy curtains, and blinds. It's about the size of a living room, really. A double bed, a desk with my new computer, a big customised wardroom –again courtesy of Mac and Dad- and a really fluffy rug on the ground. I loved it, but I couldn't shake the feeling they were spoiling me. Scratch that, I knew they were spoiling me. They both felt bad. Suppose they thought my last few months or years on this earth should be as luxurious as possible. Shame they made me go to school. For the last few months I have been homeschooled because I get tired really quickly. Headaches are a well known friend too, along with nausea and vomiting. I've lost a lot of weight. Sad actually, since I used to be one of those girls who could never lose weight. I smirked and my mum gave a nervous smile. A lot of her old personality is gone now. I shrugged and walked in, carrying only my handbag as Dad and Mac struggled with my entire luggage.

"Are you sure you don't want help with that?" I rasped. Dad smiled at me and Mac patted my head.

"Sweetie, you couldn't even if you actually wanted to. You just go up to your room and get ready to order us around." Dad said. I sighed dramatically and ran up the stairs.

"Don't strain yourself!" Mac called. He was like an uncle I suppose. An irritating second dad type of uncle.

I sighed and I launched myself onto my bed. It had dark blue sheets, and a furry white cover. I designed it myself, and made the cover myself from an old faux fur rug. Dad and Mac joined me just as I was falling asleep and I sat up to glare at them.

"Don't mind us; we'll just move your stuff around when you've got some sleep." They moved to leave and I thrust a piece of paper at them. "Eh? What's this?"

"My floor plan. Try being as accurate as possible." I covered my ears with a pillow and closed my eyes, not hearing them start with the books.

I sighed as I slipped on my short, pleated black skirt and buttoned my silky dark blue blouse. Next on with my trademark sapphire studs. My sister gave them to me, before she left home. We haven't heard from her since. I slip on my little black boots and a long blue jacket, much like the green one my sister took with her, and pick up my battered black book bag. I tried to go downstairs, picking my phone up from the hall table as I stumbled and fell into my mum.

"Hi." I said brightly, failing to cheer her when I started coughing. "Maybe I should stay home today..." I mumbled. She narrowed her eyes.

"It will do you good to get out and away from all the dust." She told me, handing me a little plastic container filled with home-made fruit salad. She then passed me a thermos and told me it had soup in it. I sighed and put them in my bag before going across the road to Dad's house and jumping in his car. He smiled at me, tapping the clock.

"Five minutes early, was someone in a hurry to leave?"

"It was either that or have her check for the umpteenth time that I have taken my medicine." I rolled my eyes and mouthed his next question along with him.

"Have you taken your medicine?" He asked, chuckling at my glare. I shook two pills out of the little orange container and dry swallowed them. He laughed and ruffled my hair. I preferred spending time with him over Mum, since he wasn't nearly as anxious and overbearing. Not to mention he preferred outrage and anger to her guilt. I smiled at him and looked out the window. Hopefully I wouldn't faint or die or something equally embarrassing today. If I could just stay conscious for seven hours, maybe allowing for a nap at lunch time, I would be settled.

I smiled awkwardly as I went to the front desk. The receptionist smiled brightly, displaying the vivid contrast of her amazing white teeth to her shiny black hair and smooth dark skin. I waved a little, pulling on my own very vague hair, a shade constantly shifting between brown, red and black. She read my mother's note and I counted the lines her eyes shifted before her smile turned sympathetic and pitying. My smile turned into a bit of a grimace and I started to twist on my long ponytail. She nodded and handed me a piece of paper and wished me a good day. I waved again as I left, trying not to speak.

I walked into my first class, science. The teacher beamed at me, her tightly pulled back hair already starting to slip from its constricting hair tie and her glasses slipping down her nose. She took the note from my pale hands and scrawled her messy and strangely elegant signature before waving me off to a seat. I sat at the back of the class, in the corner furthest from the door. The person in the desk in front of me turned around.

"Hi." She whispered. I smiled distantly. "I'm Amber. I'm, like, so tired. What about you?"

"I suppose." I murmured. She seemed friendly.

She tossed her dark, layered hair over her shoulder. "I hate Mondays. They should be, like, illegal or something, don't you think? What's your name anyway?"

"Liz..." I mumbled.

"Oh cool. You seem pretty tired. Are you, like, okay?" What was she doing? Oh, wait I remember, I used to do it all the time. I think I called it... being friendly?

"Yeah, it's just moving, you know?" I fiddled with my silver charm bracelet. Her eyes zeroed in on it and she beamed. It was freaky.

"Oh, that's so cute! I totally wanted one of those, you know, like for Christmas or something? But-"

"Amber, be a dear and leave the poor girl alone? And Seth, Brady, Collin, find your seats and sit down." Mrs. Browne snapped. It seemed she either only liked girls, or she just hated three of her students. Judging by the smile she gave the next boy to walk in, it was just those three. I couldn't see them, because I only glanced up to check, but I head their deep voices.

"We can't. New girl is sitting in Seth's spot."

"Then be a good boy and sit next to her so I can start my lesson! Oh, Sarah dear, have you got your homework from yesterday?" Mrs. Browne switched moods like I switched drugs. Oh, aren't I a blast?

"Hey." A deep, husky and very nearby voice whispered to me. I squeaked and shuffled away minutely, which triggered a mini-coughing fit. The voice's chuckles quietened quickly.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

I nodded. "Just-" cough "a little cold-" cough. I gave up on finishing my half assed excuse.

"Okay, but tell me if you feel worse. I don't wanna get into any more trouble."

"Maybe you should stop doing whatever it is that pisses her off." I mumbled. He laughed.

"So you do have a personality. Great. I'm Seth." I glanced up from the comfort and shelter of my arms, saw a massive, white and gleaming smile and promptly ducked back down.

"Liz. Could you stop smiling? It's too early in the week to be happy, and you're kinda blinding me, should I decide to emerge."

"You're a bit of a downer, aren't you?"

"What was your first clue?" I grumbled, lifting my head up and opening my notes. I was just starting to copy down what the teacher was saying when I noticed him staring at my page. "What?"

"Your writing is horrific. Or is it another language?" He continued to stare at my book and I breathed out a laugh before hiding a cough. He looked up at me, frowning. Our eyes connected and his widened. The teacher dropped something and I winced.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his hands twitching on his table. I smiled briefly to assuage him.

"Sure, never better." Not lately, anyway, except when I'm sleeping. I shouldn't go down that path. My doctor says if I start thinking of sleep as a release I might not wake up.

"Okay." He doesn't look convinced, but at least he isn't staring at my notes and insulting my handwriting anymore.