Hey everyone! I'm back with another chapter! Thanks to everyone who reviewed on the last chapter, I really appreciated it. And again; awesome pennames. XD So, please take the time to review, I hope you like this chapter! Oh, and I'm thinking of changing my Penname, just because it doesn't make sense. I mean, I am a fan of Puckabrina pairing, but I haven't written anything for it. It's kinda… weird. I don't know what I'm going to change it to yet, but I just wanted to give you a head's up. I didn't do that with my other stories, I forgot, so feel good because I let you guys know first. XD Oh, and please you guys, to those of you who read this story and any of my other stories, please read the A/Ns. The ones on top and the ones on the bottom. I usually say things that are important, and on my other stories people never respond to the things I say in them, and they miss out. Again, I'm giving you guys first warning and stuff—so feel lucky. ;)
Anyways, read on!
Review?
Waking up in the morning wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. I had expected to feel at least a little tired, but I didn't. I didn't even feel like I had slept. All night long, that twinkling laugh just resonated in my head, taunting me as though the owner knew something I didn't. It probably did, but I just couldn't figure out what.
It was driving me insane.
The good thing though, is that it stopped after I fell asleep. At around two o'clock in the morning. When I had gone into the bathroom for my morning shower, I had peered at myself in the mirror, looking for something, and I had found it. I had dark circles under my eyes. But, again, I still wasn't even tired. I felt… nothing. I was awake, but I didn't feel anything like I was supposed to. Not tired, not drowsy, not sore.
Nothing.
Right now I was just getting dressed—having taken my morning shower fifteen minutes before—and was thumping down the stairs within seconds. My mom was already there, making breakfast at the stove. That surprised me. In fact, it surprised me so much that I froze for a fraction of a second, but played it off as something sticky on the floor getting caught on the bottom of my sneaker.
She turned towards me when she heard the scuff of my shoe. Her lips stretched into a smile. "Good morning, baby," she greeted me in a chipper voice. Mom's eyes traveled down my body, taking in my black t-shirt, black skinny jeans, black sneakers, and white backpack. "You heading to a funeral or something? That's an awful lot of black."
I shrugged. "Nope; just heading to school."
Mom's expression changed then. It was suddenly a little tense, some of the previous relaxation gone. I was instantly suspicious.
"What is it? Why are you so serious all of a sudden?" I asked, bracing myself for the answer.
"No, it's nothing." She was silent for a few counts. Then she took a wooden spoon and started stirring something in a frying pan. Finally, she said, "Why don't you just… take today off? You must be exhausted from your attack and from yesterday. Go on up to your room and I'll take something up to you to eat, huh?"
"What? No way, Mom! I'm fine. I don't even feel tired, I swear," I insisted. I took her hand and pressed it to my forehead as though she were checking my temperature. She rolled her eyes, but relented nonetheless.
"Fine," she groaned, "but be careful. I don't want you overexerting yourself, and having another attack."
"Mom, I just passed out," I pointed out to her. If you looked at it from a certain angle, the only thing that had happened was that I passed out. I mean, that happens, right? But in reality, my heart had the potential to explode so suddenly that that was all I would do, is pass out. Or fail, or freeze, or just stop all together.
Gee; reality is a scary, scary place.
"I've had attacks before where I've passed out."
"Yes, but you've only had three," Mom pointed out. "And you've never passed out like that. Ten hours; you were passed out for ten hours. The first time you weren't even out for a half hour, according to the paramedics. The second time, you were out for an hour and a half. This time, it was ten hours. Such a large jump. I just don't want to lose you." Mom's voice softened to the point where I almost couldn't hear her over the sizzling sounds from the cooking food.
"You're so young; you haven't really had the chance to live like you should. Just promise me you'll be careful. Promise me." And she looked into my eyes, begging me with those green eyes to do as she asked. I didn't have those eyes. Mine were grey, pale grey. Dad had blue eyes, but his were like the blue sky on a cloudless, sunny day.
I stuck out.
And both my parents were blonde. I had black hair, as black as the midnight sky without stars or moon. Just pure black. My skin was tanned, always tanned, but both of my parents' skin was pale, a down side to living in Coldwater. There were so many contrasts between me and the people who had spawned me, but I didn't mind it. When I was little, my mom used to tell me I got my looks from her side of the family. I didn't actually look into it to see if she was lying or not, but then again, as a kid you don't really question anything your parents tell you. We live in a generation where what they say goes, but I've seen how kids act towards their parents nowadays. If I had acted that way, I'd have been dead already.
My parents would never tolerate anything like that.
As a kid, you're supposed to believe whatever your parents tell you. If they say eating your vegetables will make you grow muscles, then you'll grow muscles according to them. If they say one day you'll be a doctor when you grow up, then you'll be a doctor. In a child's eyes, the titles "Mom" and "Dad" are safe. They are home, protection, love, and truth.
Even when, half the time, truth has nothing to do with it.
I faded back into the present, realizing that Mom was still waiting for an answer and surprising myself. Where had all those thoughts come from?
"I promise, Mom. I'll be careful. Satisfied?" I raised my eyebrows at her.
"Not as much as I'd like to be," Mom scowled mockingly at me, swatting my butt with her wooden spoon. Instead of yelping or squealing, I laughed.
"Ewww, Mom! That's so unsanitary!"
I heard the sound of thumping boots then, just as I was heading toward the door. Dad came in before me, smiling at me and kissing my cheek.
I kissed his cheek back, and patted his shoulder. "Don't eat the eggs," I warned him breezily as I walked past him to the living room. I barely caught his confused expression.
"What?" I heard him say behind me.
"Unsanitary!" This comment was aimed at my mom, and she knew it. I knew she did because I heard her huff indignantly. I imagined her crossing her arms and pouting her lips. I smiled to myself.
I did feel like eating much this morning, so I snatched a couple of granola bars from Dad's lunchbox and grabbed my sweater from the closet in the foyer. I shouted a quick goodbye to my parents, and stepped out the door into the heavy fog.
I gave a frustrated groan as I climbed into my Volkswagen. I hated driving in the fog. It only made me apprehensive, even though I was already used it. I mean, come on; when you live in such a foggy, rainy place, you get used to driving in such weather. That didn't mean I had to like it, though.
I started up the car, and carefully peeled out the driveway, praying that I would make it to school in one piece.
I hummed to myself, not really enjoying the silence in the car, and went through my normal routine in my head. We were probably going through a new lesson in math class, inevitably getting homework, second period had earned a free period to talk and play around, third period was going to be busy—cough, test, cough—fourth period was pretty easy going, as we were doing a class discussion for English, and then we had lunch. Then sixth period was biology—and I'm still not getting the solid A+ I keep hoping and working for. But that's the least of my problems.
My hands tightened on the steering wheel as I thought about who I was going to be facing at school. Bryan was sure to be asking questions the minute he caught me alone. And he had several chances to do just that, what with sharing my second and sixth period with him, not to mention lunch, after and before school, and a phone call. I shook my head to clear it.
And that was when I noticed the child playing in the street, directly in front of my car, which was getting closer and closer, literally five feet away from hitting him when I slammed the brakes and screeched to a halt in front of him.
I stayed frozen in my seat for several agonizing seconds, staring at my hands on the steering wheel, my knuckles paper-white. Then I undid my seatbelt and climbed out of my car as fast as my trembling hands could manage, running to the front where the child had been before I almost ran him over.
But he wasn't there. The child I had seen picking up something from the road wasn't there. I looked around, but didn't notice anyone coming out of their house to see what had happened. Nobody seemed to be awake. It was as if nothing had happened, as if I had imagined it all.
I let out a quivering breath, running a hand through my hair as I looked around once again at the sleeping neighborhood. And just when I was going to climb back into my car and out of the freezing cold, another car pulled up behind mine. The driver came out of the car, and I heard the click of heels on the pavement as they neared me. Standing in front of me was a gorgeous woman who looked like a model, tall and blond with icy blue eyes.
And as I looked into those eyes, a strike of pain hit me in my temple, worthy enough of being called a migraine. I winced, not wanting to show any pain in front of this mysterious woman, though I put my fingers to my temple and rubbed slow circles into it.
The woman stopped in front of me, and this time another strike hit me, but with it came a flash of images of this woman standing and talking to me on my doorstep, then turning and leaving in a silver car much like the one she had just pulled up in.
The images were gone as soon as they came, and I hurried to compose myself as the woman started talking to me. Dabria Greene, I remembered.
"Hello," Dabria spoke, her voice soft and alluring, her smile confident. "Are you having any car trouble?"
"No," I shook my head. "No car trouble. I just thought I saw something in the road, that's all." Oddly, I sounded offensive. I realized it was because I wasn't even sure if it had really happened or not. Had I just hallucinated seeing the boy, or had he really been there?
Dabria nodded knowingly. "Yes, that seems to happen often here."
"I thought you said you didn't live here. That you were new." I spoke without thinking. As soon as the words left my lips, I regretted them. I had blown my cover! I was supposed to not know her, as I hadn't seemed to know her after five minutes of knowing her yesterday.
Dabria froze, her expression caught between false confusion and irritation. Then she smoothed her features into one of falsely delighted surprise.
"Oh! It's you, Naomi Coranda! I thought you looked familiar! Oh, well let me have a look at your car, just in case." I started to protest, but she held up a hand to silence me. "Please, it'll only take a second! And I would really like to return the favor from yesterday." She gave me a winning smile that I didn't find at all moving in any way. But, against my better judgment, I stepped aside and gestured my hands to the car in an after you motion.
She smiled and walked over to my car. She called out to me that I could just sit in the car while she worked on it to get out of the cold. It didn't seem to bother her, I noticed, even though she was in nothing but a thin peach colored turtle neck. Nonetheless, I complied, sensing that this woman never took no for an answer.
In the car, I reviewed what happened yesterday. I could suddenly remember what I had forgotten yesterday when I had gotten the door. Dabria had sent me a barely concealed threat that had been sugarcoated with sweetness and politeness. But I had seen right through it.
Looks like she stuck true to her word.
What if what had happened then happened again this time? If I told Mom or Dad, would they believe me? Would I even remember it to tell them? No. I needed proof. For me and for them. I could see her through a little rise in the hood and the window. I took my phone, turned on the camera, and aimed it at her. The image was clear enough that I could see her features pretty well enough. I silently thanked my phone's camera. I snapped a picture and saved it quickly. She had been facing me enough that I got her face, which appeared attentive as she looked over my car's insides. Just as I put my phone away in my backpack, she brought down the hood and came over to my window, gesturing for me to roll it down.
"You're all set," Dabria said cheerfully. "Nothing's wrong with the engine. Goodbye, Naomi. I'll see you soon." Again, there was a barely concealed threat. I felt like calling her out on it, but instead just smiled and thanked her. She gave me another winning smile and then left, driving away in her car.
And just like that, another wave of warm air passed over me, and it felt as though it swept through my mind. I couldn't remember the events of what had happened in the last ten minutes. I'd been on my way to school, I'd almost run over a boy in the street, the boy had disappeared… and then what?
I started to think it over, but then I glanced at the digital clock installed in the dashboard and my heart nearly stopped. It was nine fifteen, already a half an hour into first period. I threw the Volkswagen into drive and drove for all I was worth. Let's just say that staying under the speedlimit was harder for me than it had ever been.
When I finally arrived at school, there were only fifteen minutes of class left for first period. I ran through the halls, my backpack thumping against my back with each step. The door was closed, and the teacher was pointing at something on the board, his lips moving as he taught the lesson to the class. I knocked hesitantly on the door, looking apologetically through the window as he looked over at the door in surprise. When he saw it was me, he smiled wryly at me and came to open the door.
"Late, aren't we?" he said, blocking entrance to his classroom with his body. I nodded, looking down a little in embarrassment. "I hope you have a good excuse. Let's hear it."
I lifted my eyes and met his, my gaze defiant, showing that I wasn't afraid or intimidated by him. "I almost got into an accident this morning. Had some car trouble, a neighbor checked it out. Satisfied?"
My voice was quiet, only meant for him to hear. I could feel people leaning closer to the doorway to hear what I was saying. I was breathing a little harder than usual from the run into and through the halls. The teacher raised his eyebrows as I answered him. Obviously, I hadn't said what he'd expected. Silently, he moved out my way. I pushed past him, making my way to my seat, dodging Mary and Felicia's outstretched feet. Once again, I heard their frustrated huffs, and knew they were pouting at each other.
I could feel their stares boring into my back, burning holes into my head, but I kept my face emotionless, not caring about what they were thinking, whispering to each other, passing notes about. This was a situation that was never heard of, that was causing rumors to spread while I sat. Naomi Coranda, the Quiet Girl, the girl who had the fastest time records, who never missed a day of school in her entire life, had been late to her first period.
I met their staring gazes with my own. Back off, it said. Before you cause something you'll regret.
They looked away.
I slouched a little in my seat, suddenly feeling exhausted. I looked around; searching for a familiar face that I knew could cheer me up in a second. Sarah was sitting in her seat, her pencil moving as fast as she could move it to catch all of our teacher's words. Normally she wouldn't bother, knowing that I easily kept up with him, and would ask me for the notes she missed. I didn't mind, it wasn't like this was an all-the-time thing; she would make herself keep up if she felt like a bother to me. I assured her she wasn't, but she still did it anyway.
As if she felt my gaze on the back of her head, she turned and smiled at me, but I could see the question in her eyes. What happened?
The bell rang then, cutting the teacher off mid-sentence. He told us that we wouldn't have homework tonight because we hadn't finished the lesson, and ushered us out the door. Students from all classes merged into a giant sea of moving bodies, each one fighting against the tide to get their locker and their next class. In this case, Sarah and I were fighting to get to our next separate classes.
"So," Sarah said, barely keeping her voice from rising in octaves that would bring even the most resilient dog to its knees. "What happened?"
I shrugged. "I almost ran over a little boy this morning," I said in a low voice that I knew she could hear through the din. Her jaw dropped open. "But he disappeared before I could climb out of the car."
"You mean he ran off to his house?"
"No, I mean he literally disappeared." I gave her an unsettled look, showing her how I felt.
She swallowed hard. "Wow. That makes for a really interesting morning. Much more interesting than mine. I mean, I saw my brothers fight for the toy in the cereal box. I would've thought seeing two twelve-year-olds fighting over a toy car was weird as hell, but this"—she gestured at me—"is a whole other level. That's down right freaky."
"Yeah," I nodded my agreement, giving an involuntary shudder. I could just remember how my heart had nearly stopped pumping, and then started pumping double-time. The breath had blown out of me in that one instant, everything snapping into sharp perspective. I was scared in that one moment, but then it was even scarier when I found that there wasn't a boy in front of my car or anywhere near the area. I was scared that there was the possibility that I had imagined the whole thing; that I had hallucinated.
Sarah looked at me, those dark brown soulful eyes filled with concern. "How are you dealing, are you okay?" She put a hand on my shoulder, giving me a reassuring squeeze. I smiled weakly at her, but it fell almost as quickly as I did it.
"Honestly, Sarah, I don't know," I sighed. She was quiet for a few moments.
"Well, if you need anything at all, just know that I'm here, alright? I'm here, and I'll always be here." Sarah put her arms around me in a reassuring hug, which I eagerly reciprocated. I sighed into her hair, which was in my face.
When I had my first attack, I had been with Sarah. She was the one that called over the teacher. She was the one who tried to call nine-one-one when the teachers only insisted on taking me into the nurses' office. She had cried and begged to ride with me in the ambulance, and then snuck in when they weren't watching. She was the one who held my hand when everything went black in my vision. She was the one I saw beside me when I woke up and we were still on our way to the hospital. She was the one who always kept an eye on me afterwards, and still did. Sarah Leann Johnson was my very best friend, and because of her, I was alive. If she hadn't called the ambulance, I wouldn't be alive—or at least, normally going about my business, like running or driving and stuff.
"I know," I whispered. "Thank you. So, so, so much."
The bell rung, sending the sea of students into an all-out frenzy. Sarah and I released each other, sending encouraging smiles, and walking away to our separate classes.
P.E. is one of my easiest classes. For me it's an easy A, since I can run to get fast miles, play sports competitively, and I don't mind getting down and playing dirty if I need to. Like last week when I had played soccer and was on the opposite team from—
Bryan.
I still had yet to tell him about what happened on Sunday and the last few hours of Saturday after our date. I had no doubts that he would bug me about it as soon as he got me alone in second period.
And sure enough, the second I stepped out of the girls' locker room in my gym clothes after roll-call, a hand snagged my arm and pulled me to the side, away from everyone else exiting either locker room. I whirled around, fist clenched and ready to smash someone's face, but I unclenched it reluctantly when I saw Bryan's face, which appeared shocked at my sudden defensive action.
"Whoa, what were you going to do?" he asked in a bewildered tone. "Were you actually going to hit me?"
I shrugged indifferently. I was until I saw that it was him. But he didn't have to know that. "Maybe, maybe not. What's up?" I smiled at him.
"You owe me an explanation. What happened yesterday? You said you went to the hospital. For what?" His eyes showed concern, and I warmed up at the sight of it.
I sighed and looked down. I had never told anyone about my heart problem except for Sarah—and I guess now Nora and Patch. I had gotten used to the habit of never saying anything to people besides the ones I trusted. And although I did trust Bryan, it was only to an extent. I didn't know him that well. One date didn't qualify to tell him my entire life story or anything like it.
But he was right; I did owe him an explanation. And after that wonderful date on Saturday, he definitely deserved it. So, I took a breath, and opened my mouth to speak.
But I got cut off by Coach Valencia's whistle. Our heads snapped towards the sound, and we saw Coach and the rest of the class already in position to run the half mile. "Fray, Coranda! We haven't got all day! Get out of that corner and over here to your spots, so we can begin!" She shouted. And of course the entire class heard. I saw several heads turn to others and start whispering. Spreading rumors, of course.
Bryan and I shuffled over to the line. While Coach was fumbling with her timer, I turned to Bryan. "Fray?" I said curiously.
"My last name." Bryan said, with a nod. I smiled. I hadn't known his last name. I liked it. "Are you going to give me a chance to keep up with you?"
I smirked at him with an eyebrow raised. "I may like you, but running is still my territory, man. I don't slow down for anybody."
"On your marks, get set, go!" Coach's whistle tweeted, and I took off like a rocket, leaving a surprised-looking Bryan behind.
I felt a blush creeping up on my cheeks as I ran the two laps with ease. Oh my God. I couldn't believe what I had just confessed. I had just told Bryan that I liked him. How would I talk to him normally now without remembering that? Did I even want to forget the look on his face? Happiness, relief, and satisfaction had been on his face as I told him.
Did that mean he felt the same way? I wasn't sure, but I hoped so. I hoped he liked me, too. Because, if he didn't, then I just ruined something that could've been more.
I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I hadn't noticed that I was running faster than I usually did. I finished my laps, breaking my record. Coach gave me a pat on my back and congratulated me, waiting for the others to come and finish their laps. I went over to the bleachers and sat down, relaxing while I waited for Bryan to finish.
When he finally did, he came over to me and sat down beside me. He breathed out a long sigh. I stayed still and silent beside him. Then, he turned and looked at me, taking my hand in his.
I was instantly alert, sitting up straighter and looking at our hands, then at him. Bryan's eyes were calm, those green eyes calming me, too.
"Running really is your territory." His voice was quiet. I smiled slightly.
"Yep. Always has been. Always will be." I turned my body to face him. This time he was quiet.
Then he said, "So… you really like me?"
My blush returned ten-fold. I bit my bottom lip. You can probably tell already by now that I'm not big on telling my feelings. I'm not big on words, period. But there comes a time in a person's life where they learn to just let go, to say what needs to be said. Is this the time?
No, sadly it isn't. But I told him what I felt anyway.
"Well, yeah. I mean, why do you think I agreed to go on that date with you?" I looked at his face while I spoke.
Bryan shrugged. "I thought maybe because you felt bad for me. Or that you were just forgiving me." He gave me a sad smile. His green eyes were sad, though I couldn't fathom why. All I knew was that I wanted to make him happy, to lighten those green eyes until they were so brilliant that I had to look away, even though I wouldn't be able to.
"No. I did it because I realized that I actually liked you. And I hadn't meant to, I mean, you're still the new kid and I've never really liked any of the guys that have asked me out. Sure I thought they looked good, and they were smart and funny, but I couldn't get myself to really like them. Not that way. But then you come, and unexpectedly change that. And crash into me," I added, smiling wryly and squeezing his hand.
"Oh yeah; I remember." He smiled reminiscently at me, remembering how we had collided in the hallway in the middle of class transition, right in the middle of a giant sea of students.
"Then why do you look so sad?" I asked, frowning slightly.
"I'm not sad. I just never expected you to like me." Bryan was quiet for a few moments, and in those few moments I realized one thing: he hadn't said he like me back. My heart sunk.
"Well, a lot of things in life are unexpected," I informed him glumly. He looked up then, at my tone, and opened his mouth to say something, but Coach's whistle cut him off. I sighed, then let go of his hand reluctantly.
"All right, people," Coach said as we gathered around her. "We're going to play soft-ball, black team, and yellow team." A playful chatter rose from the crowd at the team colors. "Yes, I realize that those to colors are the name of a song; I like that song. But anyway," she boomed, "go gear up! Jerseys are in the lockers in the locker rooms. Everything else—you know where to find them." With another toot on her whistle, she ushered us into lines so she could make up our teams. She already knew how any team captain would choose, so she decided to choose for us whenever we had team games.
So, she chose a lot of the time.
I didn't really pay attention while she chose the teams, even though I should've. I just couldn't get my mind off of mine and Bryan's conversation. What had he been about to say? And why had I been so honest in the first place?
Coach's voice calling out my name brought me out of my thoughts. "Naomi Coranda, Yellow Team!" She jerked her thumb to her right where several students were walking toward the locker rooms. I followed suit, reaching my locker and shrugging on the yellow and black striped jersey over my tank top. It felt too loose for my comfort, so I tied it in the back to make it tighter around my hips.
I came back to the crowd where my team was already gathered. I noticed Bryan wasn't among them, and I turned just in time to catch him emerging the boys' locker room with a black and yellow striped jersey. He caught my gaze and shot me a quick encouraging smile. I sent a small smile back, unable to resist doing so. It didn't matter if he did or didn't like me back. As long as he was in my life, I was okay with it.
"All right, Yellows," Coach boomed in her loud voice. "I want you guys on outfield. Naomi"—she pointed at me and I looked up in surprise—"I want you pitching. Now go, go get into your positions!"
We all scrambled to the field, and I took my place, hitting my hand into the glove Coach had tossed me before she'd told us to get into position. Even from here, I could hear the students chattering, not even bothering to lower their voices. They were even calling it out across the field.
"Oooh, Black Team better watch out."
"Yeah, we got Naomi as pitcher."
"Even if she weren't pitcher, she would catch or hit every ball they throw."
"You would think she's a pro."
"Watch out, Black Team! Naomi's ours!"
I rolled my eyes. While they weren't exactly stretching out the truth, they were exaggerating my skills. I just got a little over competitive sometimes. Every team I'm on wins. But I always give it my all.
I almost laughed out loud when Bryan stepped up to the diamond, practice swinging the aluminum bat. What irony! I did let out a little chuckle of disbelief, though.
He mouthed something to me that made irritation rise inside of me. I huffed out an irritated breath and squeezed the softball in my hand.
Give it your best shot.
He pointed at me and flashed a cocky grin that made me want to slap it off his face. He brought his hand back onto the bat, swinging it tauntingly. I swallowed back my frustration.
Then I smirked, nodding my head at him once. Challenge accepted, I thought. Then I pointed at him with the hand that had the ball. I mouthed something back to him.
Try and hit it.
I recoiled my body, lifting my leg and then throwing the softball. It flew out of my hand, whizzing towards the diamond and Bryan. It reached the catcher's glove, sending the poor guy back on the ground.
"Strike one!" the girl playing the umpire said.
I smirked again; hand on my hip, gloved hand resting by my side. My hair blew softly in the wind, and I imagined I looked sort of intimidating. Bryan had a bewildered look on his face, like he hadn't even seen the ball leave my hand. I had surprised him, effectively wiping the smirk off his face. And victory tasted so sweet.
The catcher, after regaining his balance, threw the ball back to me. My hand flashed up to catch it, my glove catching the ball effortlessly. I grabbed the ball, tossing it back and forth between the glove and my hand, keeping my eyes locked on Bryan's. A gray stormy ocean, clashing with an evergreen forest. The side of my mouth drew up slightly; not quite a smile, but not quite a smirk either.
I mouthed to him again. Fastball. I pointed the ball to him again, coiled up, and threw the ball again. It left almost quicker than the last one, reaching the catcher's glove before I could blink. This time Bryan had swung, though far too late to hit the ball. I raised my eyebrows and shrugged. Curveball, I mouthed.
I decided to go a little easier on him for the third pitch. I pointed to him with the ball, coiled up, and threw him a normal pitch. He hit it, and started jogging. The ball went straight up in the air… and landed in my outstretched glove before he got to first base. I had just stood there, one arm under my gloved hand, and watched the ball fly into the air, already knowing the outcome. My glove had already been sticking out, but as it fell, I stretched it out a little further, and caught the ball.
Bryan's jaw fell open, and he walked toward the dugout like that, disbelief plain on his face as all the other guys in the dugout clapped him on the back, telling them how this was a usual thing, that he shouldn't feel bad. He looked back at me. I looked at him steadily. Then I smiled a little and waved my fingers at him pointedly. My point had definitely come across.
This had better be the last time he acts cocky when it comes to me. Now, he ought to know better.
The rest of the game went pretty much the same. When teams switched, we were in the infield for quite a while, earning point after point after point. I hit the ball every time, not so much as getting a foul ball. When I ran, I made triples, doubles, and the occasional homerun. I'm good, but not that good. So while the pitcher for Black Team tried throwing me curveballs and fastballs like I had, I was hitting them because the guy couldn't quite get it right.
Needless to say Yellow Team won.
"Woo! Good job, Teams," the umpire girl crowed. She was slapping high-fives to anyone who would take them. When she got to me, she seemed a little unsure, but I smiled and high-fived her, making her smile hugely.
"Naomi!" I turned around toward the voice who called my name. Bryan was jogging towards me, shrugging the jersey over his head. His t-shirt rode up a little, flashing a bit of abs hard enough to send my pulse all over the charts. I tore my eyes away as he fixed his shirt. I smiled when he reached me, and he smiled back. "Boy, can you play! How did you learn to play like that?"
I shrugged. "I used to play with my dad all the time when I was younger. Baseball has always been my best sport. I'm not that good at the others, like basketball, football, tennis. I like volleyball, and hockey. I'm kinda good at those." I walked beside him as we slowly made our way to the gym. I hesitated, but then just shoved my embarrassment aside and did it. I lifted the jersey up and over my head, taking it off. I felt my tank top slide up a little, over my navel, and as I fixed it hurriedly, I caught Bryan looking at me from the corner of his eye. I bit back a smile. It would've been a little more enjoyable had the other guys in the class not watched. I heard the low wolf whistles and cursed each one of those perverts.
"So, you never did explain what happened on Sunday. Why were you at the hospital?"
I swallowed. I had almost forgotten I was supposed to tell him. Almost.
I took a breath, grabbing my backpack from the bleachers and flagging down the umpire girl, asking her to take my jersey into the locker room. She looked shocked that I was even talking, but took it back anyway.
"Bryan," I said as we sat down on the bleachers next to each other for the next ten minutes of class. "What I'm about to tell you is something I've never told anyone out of my family except my bestfriend Sarah. The only reason I'm telling you is because… I trust you." I looked up at him, surprised to see that his eyes were guarded. He didn't want me to see what he was thinking—what he was feeling. As soon as I said the words, I realized that it was true. I did trust him with this. In the short few weeks that I had known him, he'd turned the rules of the way I'd lived the last sixteen years of my life upside down. He'd gotten me talking more than anyone had in my whole life besides my family and Sarah. I'd gone on a date with him and he'd made me laugh, smile, and dance, and just made me feel free.
He was like a breath of fresh air. More than a breath, actually. Like a whole spring season of fresh air.
I took another deep breath, eyes closed, face turned up to the sky. I looked down at my hands, carefully choosing my words in my head. Then I began.
"When I was a born, I was born very healthy. There was absolutely nothing wrong with me that the doctors could find; everything was perfect. I lived the next eight years of my life as a very active, smart, normal child. But then something happened. I was in the third grade, hanging out with Sarah near the classroom, not doing anything when I started feeling funny. I had this horrible pain in my chest, and I was seeing things, like little stars and different colors swirling in my vision, and I couldn't breathe. Sarah went and called the teachers, and when they didn't do anything, she called the ambulance. They took me to the hospital, and along the way I'd passed out and then woken up. I was unconscious for a little while, waking up before we even made it to the hospital. At the hospital, they didn't find anything. They thought it was just an asthma attack.
"But they were wrong. I've never had asthma, nothing even close. My family doctor, Dr. Conner, saw something weird about how this attack happened. No outward tests showed any sign of the attack—not even my lungs, which had given me trouble breathing. He started to look a little deeper, trying to figure out the problem. He sent me home, though, and I had to miss a week of school to make absolutely sure that I was stable enough to go to school. I was fine when I did. It was as if it had never happened.
"Then it happened again when I turned twelve. I had been running the mile in the seventh grade. Like the first time, I had an awful pain in my chest right after I finished my mile. I collapsed right there, chest heaving and everything. I couldn't breathe, and they called the ambulance again. I woke up about fifteen minutes into the process of getting to the hospital. The hospital dismissed it again as an asthma attack, and I went home with an inhaler. I never used it. I knew that what was happening to me wasn't an asthma attack. Since then I haven't had another attack.
"Until yesterday, that is. The month before you got here, in July, Dr. Conner had run some tests on me, made me take some tests that would determine whether my disease—as they called it—was life-threatening, or would be life-threatening in the future. We were expected to wait a month for those results. We got them yesterday. And it turns out that it is indeed life-threatening. It turns out my heart is attacking itself from the inside. My heart is acting like a cancer cell, in a way. I don't know if another attack will kill me, or if it'll go as well as the two times before, or the as bad as this time, but I am not going to risk it.
"The most recent happened after you dropped me off at home after our date. I had gone out to get the mail and I found the test results. I read them and the shock was too much for me to handle. I passed out and woke up in the hospital after that. I had been unconscious for ten hours. This was by far the worst one. And I'm not going to try to find out if there can be worse.
"So now you know." I looked over at Bryan tentatively. I wasn't afraid of judgment, but I was afraid of his reaction. "That's why I was in the hospital yesterday. Even Sarah doesn't know yet, but I'll tell her later. So… what do you think?"
I was dying to know his answer, but I didn't get to because right when he opened his mouth, the dismissal bell rang. We had to go to our next classes. I rolled my eyes. I hefted my backpack out from under the bleachers and onto my shoulder, climbing down carefully. I started to walk to my next classes, feeling a sense of foreboding settle in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't begin to fathom what it was about and where it came from, but it was there. Hovering over my shoulders, slowing my breathing, and making my hands tingle slightly in anticipation.
I pushed it down, smiling back at Bryan and walking out the gym to my next class. Of course, the second I entered the class room, I realized two things from the stares people were giving me; A) that the rumors had gotten around faster than I thought, and B) that I had forgotten to change out of my gym clothes. I was so preoccupied with my conversation with Bryan that I hadn't remembered to change into my school clothes. So I had walked through the halls in boys' basketball shorts, a tank top, and my sneakers, all black.
Well, that explained the stares.
Refusing to let their stares get to me, I strode in the room confidently, sitting down in my seat and taking out my supplies. I heard whispers and giggles, heard my name floating around the room, but I didn't care. I was here to learn—not to care about what anyone thought of me. They didn't know me, would never know me, and besides, who cares what people think? God knows they hardly do it at all. Harsh, I know, but it's the truth with these people.
For the rest of class, I really hammed it up, acting like I wasn't dressed in my gym clothes, lounging lazily in my seat at the back of the room, waving my fingers pointedly to those who turned in their seats to stare at me. That class went by real quick, as did the others until we went to lunch. That's when I changed back into my regular black clothes—a little reluctantly, I admit.
Sarah and I went to our usual table in the lunch room, near the back but a row from it. We ate in silence until Sarah asked me to fill her in about my weekend, why I hadn't called or texted her like I usually did. So I filled her in, telling her all about mine and Bryan's date, the news on my heart problem, and what had happened during second period.
"Oh, honey," Sarah said in a sympathetic voice. No pity. No pity from her. She knew I hated pity and only sympathized with me when a situation called for it. She rubbed small circles into my back, while I slammed my forehead into the hard table. Ouch.
"I don't know what to tell you," said Sarah, her voice part nervous, part panicky. "I mean, you've never liked a guy before that you felt worthwhile! I mean, there was that one guy…" She trailed off as she felt my shoulders stiffen rigidly.
That one guy. 'That one guy' was gone. We didn't talk about 'that one guy.' He was in the past, away from me—and that was for the best. He was the only other guy I'd ever really liked, besides Bryan now. I met him when I was thirteen, when our school had gotten him as the transfer student. He had "bad boy" written all over him, but I hadn't been able to stay away for too long. I had always come back to him at the end of the day, whether I wanted to or not. I had liked him, he had like me, and it had all been like some kind of fairytale romance. Until he got caught.
I caught him kissing Sarah against her will, behind the bleachers in the gym. I had been angry, angry and hurt, but I never blamed Sarah. I knew that she was afraid of him, that she didn't like him at all, that she didn't agree with me dating him. She would never have done something so low, regardless of whether she liked the boy in question or not. But 'that one guy' didn't have any qualms with cheating on his girlfriends. His cocky smirk had said it all.
I'd never hit anyone harder in my life.
He left school that day with a swollen, purple-ish eye and a severely wounded pride. Sarah and I had had a sleepover that night at her house, making the promise that we would always protect each other from anything as much as we could. We would look out for each other, tell each other everything. Those were the kind of promises you make with your bestfriend. The difference is, we keep—and know fully well that we have the power to keep—those promises.
His parents had transferred him back to his other school the week after they'd found out. Of course, I was heartbroken. Even to this day, I think I might still feel a little something for him; not the electric, wildness I felt for him when we'd been together—not even close. He had felt the same way about me, I knew he did, but apparently it must have faded with time—five months' worth of time, as had been together for five months. My first real boyfriend cheated on me with my bestfriend. Again, I don't blame Sarah for any of it. She had no hand in what had happened. Don't ask me how I know, I just do. Call it a hunch.
Good thing was, he was never coming back.
I guess I had reservations to any of the other boys I've dated, and that's why I didn't like them, but Bryan was different. He made me feel different. Of course, I'm still wary of him like I am with most boys, but I'd be willing to let it go for him if he liked me back, too.
"That's a real nice way of putting it, Omi," Sarah said beside me. I lifted my head off the table and looked over at her, frowning. What was she talking about?
"You do realize you said that out loud, right?" She raised her eyebrows at me, probably wondering what my problem was.
"Oh," I said. "I didn't even notice. I was just thinking."
"Well, then that's a real nice way of thinking it." She grinned at me, that goofy grin of hers, making me laugh. I hugged her with one arm.
"Thanks, Sarah Lee," I bumped her shoulder, rubbing in her nickname. Sarah Leann Johnson. My bestfriend.
"I wish I could offer you advice, but I honestly can't," she said, clearly distressed about the fact. "I mean, you've never been in this situation. You've never wanted what didn't want you back. Actually, you've never really wanted. But he's technically your territory, though. You guys went out. That makes you two a thing." She crossed two of her fingers to emphasize her point. My stomach dropped a little in nervousness.
"So, like… he's technically my boyfriend, and I'm his girlfriend?" I asked tentatively. I was almost afraid of her answer.
Sarah nodded. "Yeah. But now worries. You'll be fine this time, I know it. Just trust yourself, don't be afraid. I think this guy might be something else."
"What do you mean?" I tilted my head in confusion.
"Did you know that this is the most talkative you've ever been in during school hours, on school campus, since I've met you? And it all started the day you met him. When you drove me home, you were smiling and talking with this dazed look in your eyes. I knew it had to be something serious. Like I said, this Bryan is something else."
I frowned, slowly straightening in my seat. I hadn't even noticed how different I was acting. It was so unlike me; I was talking more, laughing more, and just walking out of my quiet, safe box. It scared me; much more than I was ready to admit.
"Hey, don't panic now, but Bryan is coming into the cafeteria. He's looking around, searching for someone. I bet five dollars he's looking for you." Sarah didn't even look away from her lunch tray as she said it. She looked down at it, picking at the limp school food with her fork, as if she hadn't spoken. I kept my cool, casually resting my chin on my fist to survey the busy buss of students for Bryan. I kept my expression bored, as if I was looking around out of boredom. I spotted him almost immediately—it was hard not to. He was standing with a lunch tray in his hands, looking around for someone as Sarah had said. As soon as my eyes landed on him, his swung back in my direction. I laid my head back down on the table, but I knew I was too late. I felt his gaze on me like a sudden prodding finger, poking me and calling my attention. I sighed and looked up just in time to see him start over toward our table.
Jaws dropped, eyes bulged, and incredulous, shocked gasps filled the room. The silence dragged on as he made his way over to Sara and me, ignoring the beckoning hands of the popular crowds and other girls vying for his attention. He didn't even spare them a glance. He kept his eyes trained on mine like no other person did or could do. I'll admit it was a bit unnerving that he was causing so much attention by just coming toward us, but I wasn't exactly thinking straight with Bryan's eyes locked on mine.
Stormy grey and Evergreen.
Sarah, who had looked up when the cafeteria had gone quiet, nudged me subtly. "Breathe, Omi," she muttered through unmoving lips under her breath. I hadn't realized that I had stopped breathing during the staring contest and took a subtle deep breath.
Bryan finally reached the table, smiling a smile at me that was both sweet and devilish at the same time. I didn't know how he managed it. He knew he had the attention of pretty much the entire student body. In fact, the fool was enjoying it. He was going to play it up as much as he could—I knew that before he did it. But what I didn't know was just how he was going to achieve that.
But achieve it he did—and so much more.
"Hey, beautiful," he said as he smiled. And then he leaned over the table toward me and put his hand to my cheek. He leaned in closer and kissed me on the cheek.
In front of the entire student body.
I was completely speechless. Sarah beside me was just the same. Bryan looked at me with those green eyes, the innocence in his expression a bit overdone. He looked proud of himself. I cast my eyes around the lunch room quickly.
Now all jaws had dropped, and all eyes were seconds from falling out of their skulls. I was just as shocked as they were, but at least I was handling it well. That gave me a little irritation, but it was wiped away by the euphoria of Bryan's kiss. I was resisting putting my hand to my cheek, to the tingling spot on my face that Bryan had touched with his soft lips. I could feel a light blush creeping on my cheeks as I looked at Bryan through my eyelashes.
The silence was thick; too thick. It was suffocating. So I did the boldest thing that a few weeks ago I could never have counted on myself to follow through.
I stood up and leaned on my hand on the table, my other hand on my hip. I looked at the people in the cafeteria, meeting gaze after gaze after shocked gaze. "How's your Monday?" I asked loud enough that everyone could hear me loud and clear—loud enough that they could hear the abruptness and pointed warning in my tone.
The cafeteria was silent for a few beats. Again, they were shocked. I was talking to them, a complete rarity. Then, the silence was broken. "Pretty good, how about yours?" a jock from one the tables to my right called out to me. His words were slightly mocking, but they were still amazed.
"Glad to hear it," I said quieter than before, ignoring his question entirely and smirking. My voice wasn't as loud, but everyone could still hear it. I sat back down, smiling at Sarah and Bryan. The noise resumed in the cafeteria, though I was sure I heard my name in more than one occasion.
When we finished our lunch, Bryan insisted we do something to end the show with a grand finale. I didn't agree with it; what could top a public kiss? Granted, it was a cheek kiss, but still. He wanted us to walk out holding hands. I didn't have a problem with it, but I wasn't sure I wanted to cause such uproar by doing things that I would never do. Naomi Jarene Coranda didn't talk. Naomi Jarene Coranda didn't attract attention. Naomi Jarene Coranda lived a quiet, peaceful life.
I was completely acting like someone else. Who was this? Who was I now? Did I even want to know?
I ended up doing it anyway, not feeling like arguing. The earlier sense of foreboding had returned tenfold, as if something bad were going to happen and soon. Nonetheless, Bryan and I walked out of the cafeteria with our hands entwined, fingers laced together. And I know I sound like such a girl when I say this, but I couldn't help noticing how perfectly our fingers fit together, how right it felt to hold his hand.
The rest of the day went smoothly, our classes flying by quickly. Bryan and I met up with Sarah at her classroom, having already gotten our stuff out of our lockers along the way. We all walked toward the main doors, but they were crowded, so I decided to take them on a detour through the office doors. As we waked closer, I felt my heartbeat quicken, and my hands started to slicken with sweat the way they did when I was nervous or panicked. I wiped them on my jeans discreetly, but I could tell out the corner of my eye that Sarah noticed. She stepped a little closer to me, recognizing the signs of my panic. I took deep breaths as we walked closer and closer to the office, my instincts screaming for me to get away.
But by the time I walked into the office and found out why, I was too late. The breath was knocked out of me the second I saw him. My feet were frozen to the floor, and I couldn't move for the life of me. Sarah saw him too, freezing beside me with wide eyes. I couldn't move; couldn't breathe. I was in another time and place, reliving the months that I had considered the most freeing months of my life. How wrong I had turned out to be.
He was as tall as ever, still living up to his reputational image. He had his back to me, though I would know this boy anywhere. He still had the same worn black leather jacket from three years ago; I was surprised it still fit him. He still had the same shaggy black hair that I had run my fingers through so many times before, the same light blue eyes I had gazed into lovingly for five months, and the same tanned skin I had touched and run my hands over. For a split second I wondered dazedly where he had lived for the past three years.
"So you're going to stay here until your senior year, right? No sudden moved or transfers anymore, right?" the secretary laughed as she questioned him. I faintly heard it, but her words made my heart nearly stop. He was transferring back. He was here to stay. I could faintly feel Bryan standing behind Sarah and me, confused as to why we'd stopped.
My eyes were wide open in horror, my body rigid and frozen in shock. I was pretty sure that I was breathing, hadn't breathed since I had entered the room. But I couldn't do anything. Not a thing.
And suddenly as if he sensed us behind him, he turned and looked at us in surprise. Then his mouth curled into a shockingly sincere, pleased smile, his eyes surprisingly soft as he gazed at me. My heart tugged. He looked much the same, though more mature, and he had a piercing above his left eyebrow.
"Naomi." His voice was deeper, puberty having had its time with him early, but that wasn't what made my heart fumble several beats: He spoke my name like a caress, with a certain subtle tenderness that wasn't lost on me. I guessed it wasn't lost on Sarah or Bryan by the way they both stiffened and tensed.
"Keith," I breathed, sucking much-needed air into my aching lungs. Each breath felt like splinters into my heart. And for no reason at all, I found myself saying his name again.
"Keith."
~A Month Later~
The rain beat on the windows of my Volkswagen as I drove carefully away from Sarah's house. I had just dropped her off at her house after school. I was antsy in my seat as I turned the windshield wipers on high. I hated driving in this weather. My boyfriend Bryan had offered to come along with me, claiming he didn't mind having to walk back to the school, but I just couldn't make him do that. It just wasn't me.
Even though I didn't like driving in this weather alone, I wasn't going to make my boyfriend walk all the way back to the school just to keep me company.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I waited until I stopped at a red light to fish it out of my pocket. I took one look at the name on my phone's screen, and tossed it into the passenger seat as I felt an invisible splinter drive into my heart. I had to wait a moment for my breath to return to my lungs, for it had been knocked out the second I had read the name on the screen. I didn't know how he had gotten my number, but I sure as hell didn't give it to him.
Another text message from Keith. Probably another useless attempt to get me to have a conversation with him. I wondered if he knew it useless; for if he did, why did he continue to try?
The light turned green, and I drove forward, humming tunelessly to myself in the quiet car. I felt like going into the woods; I hadn't gone in such a long time. I sort of missed it, the smell of wet pine, fresh, wet earth, and of course the natural sounds. I just missed the nature in general. I wanted to walk around and explore again. And I might even visit Blythe again. The thought made the corners of my mouth tip up into a smile.
I rolled up into the driveway, relieved that I had made it home in one piece. I sat in the car for a moment, debating whether I wanted to go into the house or stay in the car. My small and full bladder made the decision for me, urging me to pull the hood of my rain coat over my black curls. I grabbed my back pack and took a breath, my free hand on the door handle.
I opened the door and flew out and to the porch like a bat out of hell. I shook myself to shake loose the raindrops before opening the door and stepping inside. I wiped my black boots on the mat in front of the door, shrugging out of my rain coat and hanging it up on the coat rack. Just as I dropped my backpack on the floor, I heard my mother's voice shouting and yelling out of nowhere, making me jump slightly.
What could she be so mad about? Didn't she know it was harmful to the baby if she was this angry? Who was she even yelling at? I knew it couldn't be Dad; they'd grown closer, close to the point of inseparability when in the same room with each other. She wouldn't be yelling at him. In fact, I had a pretty good idea who she was yelling at.
"You two have had more than enough time! Stop drawing out the inevitable! Every day, she grows more and more inseparable to you, more and more trusting of you and you are ruining any chance you might have at still having her love you! She does love you, but you're going to lose that if you don't tell her. The minute she walks through that door—"
I had walked out of the foyer and to the entrance of the living room, leaning against it with my arms crossed. "'She' meaning me." My voice was quiet, but it sliced through the air, cut off her voice, and caused heads to turn, like a knife. My position had an assuming air about it, lazy, but my posture said something else entirely. I was tense, alert, waiting for something to happen so that I could snap into action. What that mean, I wasn't at all sure. I was sure I looked intimidating; a dark shadow, calm and dangerous.
Patch, Nora, Mom, and Dad were all standing in a misshapen circle around the coffee table, the Ciprianos on one side, the Corandas on the other. Mom's face was red, evidence of her anger and of her shouting. I looked at them, warning and demand in my eyes. Warning them to not piss me off; demanding that they tell me the truth. They had been having fights and arguments like this all month long. It wasn't surprising that they were having one now. Every single time I caught them, they gave me an excuse instead of telling me the real reason why they were arguing. I was fed up with it.
"What. Are. You. Arguing. About." I made every word a sentence, speaking through gritted teeth.
"Naomi," Mom started. Her breathing was heavy from her shouting. She wasn't mad; she was furious. So furious that she had to begin again.
"Naomi, Nora and Patch are here to tell you something. They have something very important, very overdue to tell you. And they aren't getting out of it this time."
A/N: Uh-oh. What's gonna happen? Tell me what you guys think in a review! What do you think about Keith? How about Naomi's and Bryan's conversation? Do you think Bryan likes her back, or is he just going out with her cause he's a player? Hmmm, you never know! ;) Please review! Here's 11, 060 words for you guys. Your reviews make me write faster!
REMINDER: AT LEAST TWO REVIEWS PER CHAPTER FOR AN UPDATE. I DON'T UPDATE UNTIL I GET TWO REVIEWS ON THE STORY. DOESN'T MATTER WHAT CHAPTER.
That said, I'm out.
Ciao!
~Alee V.
