I'll be down in the ditches
Fighting my own war
Back on the benches
To settle that old score
But I don't want to talk about myself anymore
I'm closing the door
I'm closing the door

-Ditches by Children 18:3

As I walked into school the next day, an unnatural hush fell over the building. All of the students stopped whatever they were doing and turned to stare at the stranger. These definitely weren't stares of admiration or awe, these were full faced sullen scowls. I suddenly felt like an alien, unwanted and freakishly different.

The feeling wasn't helped by Collin stiffly marching beside me, or Seth Clearwater, who had been one of the boys at the party, who was walking next to Collin evaluating me. They led me through the throng of frozen people and into a door marked clearly, Office. "Thanks. I think I got it." I said in a desperate ploy to get away from them.

Collin just opened the door and walked inside, leaving Seth to shepherd me in. The room was larger then I'd expected but it was too new, too fresh to be taken seriously. The full, moon faced woman behind the desk looked up with a plastic smile ringed in cherry lipstick. Seth spoke, his deep voice a monotone. "Mrs. Hoppa. This is Rhiannon Albright, she just transferred from California." Her smile broadened, as if he had said something good. She chattered on about class and schedules, about Collin and the free milk I would receive at lunch.

The conversation moved too fast and soon I was outside the office, staring at the hostile faces again. They spoke in quiet whispers, a secret language that I didn't know. Collin walked off, happy to leave me. "First class is Algebra, over this way." Seth said cheerfully before walking off after Collin. In my head I could hear the fast, new-kid, school hallway music blaring. I decided that if my life were a movie this would be where it would fade to black and I would wake up.

The quick dash to the bathroom and rummaging through my bag pill razor bandage relief I was happy now

I floated above them then, high as a bird all day. I laughed at them, at these lonely seals, diving in and out but always separate from each other. It may be their territory, they may look at me with blood lust and mark me off into pieces, one by one. They may hunt me in their dreams but I was invincible here. The drugs burned through my veins, making me quiet and remote, a fortress amongst men. It made me feel, almost, as if I belonged.

I had to freshen up at lunch, when the courage that had seared me started to evaporate. I was becoming myself again, Cinderella at midnight with no prince in sight. The day passed quickly in an endurable haze of unfamiliar faces and the smell of chalk. We rode home with a tall thin boy who wore sadness like a shield. I wanted to press myself to him, to open up all of his secrets and pull his sorrow into me. I reminded myself that this was not my old life. A new town, a new me. I smiled prettily at him and thanked him nicely for the ride.

Inside the house was quiet. Collin immediately walked into his room, slamming the door shut. "Honey, I'm so glad you're home. How was your day and here's some brownies." I said to the empty room, singsonging a mother's after school litany. "If you want something, get it yourself." Collin grunted as walked out of his room, pulling off his t-shirt. He was lean and smooth underneath, solid and warm like a tree. He walked over to the kitchen, throwing the balled up t-shirt into a laundry hamper behind the couch. I watched the play of the shadows across his chest as he moved, then caught myself. He really was beautiful though, all of the boys were.

"Where's the nearest Laundromat?" I asked abruptly. "In Forks." He said sternly. "Where in Forks?" I asked again, this time letting the ice come into my voice. "There's one on Forks Avenue and one over on 101." He sighed as if he were doing me a favor just speaking to me. I turned and gathered up the laundry, stuffing it into a drawstring bag and then fishing quarters out of a jar on the TV. "Is there like a bus or something that goes to Forks?" Collin sighed at this question and rolled his heavenward. "No but Emily has to go into town. I guess you can ask her." I glared at him. "Fine. Where's her house?" I asked crisply.

"I'm going there anyway, you might as well come with me." He said as he jerked on shoes. I flung on my backpack and followed him out the door. We walked along a small road, with only the sound of our feet and the whistle of Collin's breath. I would never get used to the silence here. I wanted big cities, where there was enough noise to drown out the past, where there were people to casually brush against and crowd. I wanted to be able to get lost in plain sight.

Emily's house was much like every other house I had seen, small and old. This one however was gray, with a weathered blue door and window box filled with cheerful marigolds. The door opened and a boy burst out. "Hey! Finally, we've been waiting forever!" He said eagerly. "Hey, Quil." Collin sighed. "Come on in, Emily's waiting."

Inside the house the same group of boys that had come over the night before was sitting around a block table. It was heaped with food and covered in plates. There was a chorus of hellos as they spotted Collin and then they all turned back to their food. Collin slipped in between them and entered the conversation effortlessly. They all moved together, in perfect synchronization, as if they had sat here many times before. It made my throat ache, this easy companionship.

Through the doorway in front of me I could see a small loveseat, a TV, and a rocking chair. Emily sat in the rocking chair, her lap full of a delicate lace, her knitting needles clacking. "Boys, save some for the others." She said, not looking up from her knitting. "When are you leaving?" Collin asked. "Why? Want to get rid of me?" She asked, chiding him gently. "Of course not. Rhia needs to go into town." He answered his mouth full of food. At this Emily stood up and walked into the kitchen, embracing me.

It was this, a simple hug, that shocked me. For the past two years people had avoided me, as if by touching me they would catch the black sorrow that nestled inside of me. I backed away slowly and put on my best look-don't-touch face. She stepped back and smiled sadly at me before turning to the boys. "We're just waiting for Sam and Paul." She said. At this last name a hush fell over the group and they all looked displeased. Paul….I tried to match the face with a name and came up blank.

They all settled down and went back to talking, throwing rolls across the table at each other. The boy who had driven us home that day, the one with large sad eyes, pulled out a chair and motioned me over. I went. I sat and I took food. I ate. I did not talk but I ate. I watched them.

The door burst open with a sudden bang and Sam walked in. His face was glowing and he went straight to Emily, arms open wide. The sight of it made me want to throw something. I glared at nothing in particular as the chatter around me rose up into the air. I sat for another half hour as Emily bustled about, telling this boy to wash dishes and that boy to dry. This was a little paradise that was solely under her control. It made me feel itchy.

In the car silence reigned. Emily would introduce one subject and I would mutter something inconsequential, closing off conversation before it started. Eventually she reached forward and turned on the radio. Bright strumming filled the car, the kind that took a moment and froze it in sepia, holding it bright and spinning above the world. The words made my mouth go cotton dry, ache with memory. I opened my hand and found a perfect petal, blown away from its motherland.

How do I know why the sight of you makes me weak,

each time I see you turn onto my street,

Your hair is always up in a bun,

This girl's the one

In the laundromat the air was comforting, filled with flannel and detergent. There was something about laundromats that drew misfits, the quiet edge of society. The was the young man washing his shirts, a few baby clothes thrown in with rough jeans and torn t-shirts. There was the older couple who folded their laundry in synchrony, smiling at each other. There was the young mother who shoveled loads of clothes into a washer and tried to soothe her children, all the while staring longingly out the window, wishing herself away. Then there was me, the silent fly on the wall of their lives, watching it all.

I had always found laundromats comforting, a way to ground my errant mind and draw some pretense of sanity. It was better in Monterey, more people, open later, more places to hide. Still, this was nice. It gave me a layer of sanity to cling too.

As I folded my clothes Emily pulls up and parks, anxiously stepping inside to join me. "Rhia! Wait 'til you see what I got! It was clearance day over at the market, I found a bunch of great deals." She said, smiling kindly. I wondered what exactly you said to that. "Great. Sounds good." I said, making an effort at polite conversation, as she was my ride home. She quietly folded the last few shirts and helped me as I stuffed everything back into my bag, apparently pleased with my small contribution.

That night the stars came out full force, dancing around the trees. I slipped out of my window, waiting for Collin to jump out of a shadow and shout Boo. Nothing happened though. I walked for what seemed like miles and miles, watching the lights above me glow. I finally reached a cliff and stood above the ocean, so different from mine it was like they were different species. Until now I hadn't seen the charm of this cold angry sea, hadn't seen the beauty hidden underneath the surface.

I watched as the moon floated down and settled over the ocean like a pearl, shining and glittering. I watched the world spin into one point just in front of me and fade away into nothing. He comes to me then all smiling eyes and quiet voice telling me over and over again how much he loves me. I see my whole life spread out in the air, fairy tales spun in ignorance, the quiet twists and turns.

I remember a story my mother used to read me as a child. It was about an old man who lived in the forest and had a huge pearl necklace that he kept in a box. Every night he would open the box and take one pearl off the strand. Then he would walk through the woods to the ocean where he would throw the pearl into the sky. Every night he made the moon rise and every morning it would melt to nothing. As a child the thing that impressed me the most was the way he held the pearl, as if it were something fragile and precious. Even then I wished that someone would hold me that way.

Slumber Song

Some day, if I should ever lose you

will you be able then to go to sleep

without me softly whispering above you

like night air stirring in the linden tree

Without my waking here and watching

and saying words as tender as eyelids

that come to rest weightlessly upon your breast

upon your sleeping limbs, upon your lips?

Without my touching you and leaving you

alone with what is yours, like a summer garden

that is overflowing with masses

of melissa and star-anise?

-Rainer Rilke


As always its taken me months to update, as procrastination is my middle name. Still better late then never. I just saw New Moon last night and decided the only reason for watching it is Jacob-actualy, random guy who plays Jacob-'s half naked scenes. Is it just me or did Kirsten Stewart and Robert Pattinson get even more melodramatic and over the top? It made me laugh.

Oh, almost forget playlist!

Partial-Ditches by Children 18:3

Begining of chapter

Partial-Vegetable Car by Joshua Radin

song they listen to in the car