A/N: Reposting this, since I'm back. I hope you like it. Set sometime after 'A Thanksgiving Tale.'
Manifest Destiny
It took three months to convince him to move to Everwood. His father didn't convince him as much as forced him, though. He savored his last few days in New York, spending hourse just wandering 5th Avenue, counting the number of 'I heart NY' memorabilia he passed, hailing taxis for even the shortest distances.
He ate his last New-York style pretzel, New York was the only place that made it right anyway. He gave his last few quarters to a street performer, and for the sake of it, gathered in the large mob outside Times' Square at three-thirty. It was a place he usually avoided, the primetime headquarters of TRl, but he learned to love the frenetic bustle that was New York. He knew he would miss it.
It was a six hour plane ride to get there, the entire while in an eerie silence. He ignored the urgent taps on the shoulder his sister gave hi, not acknowledging his father's weak attempts at humor with a smile. He sat in distant mind, leaving the world as well as his soul in New York.
He gripped the armrests tightly at take-off, reminded as the plane's wheels made last contact with the runway, he was making last contact with his home, bidding a silent adieu to the city he was born in, raised in, loved with all his heart. His home was with his mother, he needed to be with her. Her.. grave was in New York. That's where he needed to be too.
It took five hours to put their belongings in the house. He helped, pulling out box after box, stacking them in the corresponding rooms. He stared at the nine boxes in his. It all seemed so alien. And as he unpacked, placing CDs on the dresser and posters on the wall, it couldn't be farther from what it was supposed to be. It was not his room. He couldn't bring himself to hang the sign, stuffing it in a drawer.
He spent thirty minutes trying to find his first period class, meeting stand-offish leaders of cliques and aloof members of the football team on the way. He couldn't take him eyes of the glaring words that taunted him wherever he went. County High. His new school. The sound of it pierced his ears.
It took five seconds to declare Amy Abbott as the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Her radiant smile, warm glow, and kind aura attracted him to her, believing maybe the town wasn't all he was making it out to be. He thought of her incessantly, he dreamt of her, played for her, whispered her name into the night. Everwood had its very own golden angel, reason enough to give his pessimistiv views a second thought.
A four hour bus ride to Denver, a heart-wrenching, painful, emotionally tearing four hourse. The truth, Amy was just out of reach, made his head pound, his stomach to carousel, to bring blurry tears to his eyes. And yet the truth, Amy's inbelievably genuine smile, whether at the thought of him or Colin, softened his intense eyes and melted his stiff lip, curving it into a soft smile.
It was a week until he memorized his new school schedule and got the hand of his inconsistent locker. He learned to internally time the bell, take the shortest routes to his classes.
It was the same week he discovered the puzzling basis of Everwood's way of life, trying his best to avoid it. He ignored amazingly stupid school rituals concerning foliage invitations and carnivals devoted to a western warm front. He steered clear of their after-school hangouts. He was the anti-Everwoodian. Others turned away from his non-conformist rebellion. Amy embraced it.
Metaphorically, of course.
It didn't take long after a week to find his way around town, remembering the way back home from school. Recognized landmarks such as maple trees and playgrounds. Everwood's small size made it easy to get accostomed to, no matter how hard he resisted it. He soon drank his first cup of Mama Joy's coddee, the premiere attraction at the little cafe. He began to learn the history of every Everwood resident, finding himself sucked into the town's attraction to gossip.
It took a week and a half until he earned his first nickname in Everwood, Ham. The other students remained to call him 'Paleface', the kindest of many others, but Amy continued to greet Ham, claiming he looked like the namesake, Hamlet. He joked, wishing he didn't have the tragic gate of the Shakesperean character, but not stopping Amy's trivial game with him. He learned to love it as well, the brief moment of settling in, normalcy, and frienship he had finally developed.
In two weeks, he went to the Fall Thaw, one of Everwood's more frivolous celebrations. And he unfairly judged it to the Macy's Thanksgiving parade, laughing to see people overjoyed at ice scuptures, hay rides, ferris wheels. He got a heavy dose of reality on that ferris wheel, reminded of the truth that Amy would never be his. And confirmed Bright's theory he had ignored in the past. That she was using him.
The celebration came to a halt, with the more disturbing talk his father had with his mother, the hallucination, others had said. The thought of his mother called a hallucination brought an aching feeling in his chest. He admitted to seeing her sometimes as well. And he talked with his father for a long time that night, wihtout breaking into a fight. He noticed his father's conversations with his mother decreased. And he began to see her less. But he felt her all the same.
It took a weekend to realize home is where the heart is. Just as the deer would find a new place to live, he regretfully discovered that he would have to as well. 'Home is with mom' he had said, palpiations making him dizzy as blood rushed to his head. Home is where the heart is. His heart was with his family. His family was in Everwood. And someday he would grow to love it, just as he had New York. He was in Everwood for good. The question was what he would make of it.
It wasn't long before he dropped the title, 'The New Guy' from his introduction. The teachers stopped giving him leeway because he had just moved. He replaced the picture of his locker of the New York skyline with a drawing of Amy in ballet class he had done one day. He stopped asking his father why he had moved them all to the middle of nowhere.
Soon after, he dug into his forgotten drawer and excavated the sign, hanging 'Ephram's Room' on the door. It finally was his room, it finally was his home, in this crazy little town. But he'd never admit that to himself. It was the same day he picked up his first Pinecone, reading some absurd article about aliens in Everwood. And he learned his way around the house in the dark, counted the number of steps on the stairs. He hung up the posters he had been too angsty to put up on the wall. This was no longer a stopping point for him.
It took three weeks to compose Amy's song. It was well-worth it, to see the delight on her face when she learned it was for her. To see her whisked into a dream at the sound of dulcet song. She was the person he had said was the only person he cared about in the entire town. He loved her, no question in that. He would do anything for her. If only she would do the same.
He knew her for three months when he kissed her. In those four seconds, he had everything he had ever wanted. Her. His sacrifices, hopes, dreams, all came down to that moment. He had pure happiness in his hands and in near his lips.
It took another four seconds at the Canyon to take it all away. Never did eight words have so much impact, as she tore into him, ripped out his heart and soul until he had nothing. He had lost the one person he loved, the person that made Everwood home. Without her, he lost his home, and without a home, where was he?
Nothing. That's how he felt, as he tried to feel no pain. And as he returned hom, overwhelming intoxication flowing through him, he made a hastened decision, one he should have never made. To move back to New York.
He lost Amy, he lost his father who he thought might have never been able to get through to him, he lost his sense of hope and pride, all in that night. And it took another night, just as eventful, to bring it all to order, to bring him to his senses, once and for all. He belonged.
It took three hours to make a Grateful book, that brought unmeasurable happiness and optimistic futures with Amy the same day. It took an hour with Delia to shop for the ingredients for the Thanksgiving dinner, and another three to mix it all into an edible substance.
Six seconds for his father to say what he had been wanting, waiting for his entire life, whether or not he knew it. To hear those words, that his father had finally found his son. And he wanted to tell them that he had also found his father, though it took him five months, a bizzare spur of the moment move to a town in the Rockies, and the loss of his mother, he had found his father, too.
Three months from now, Ephram is showing a new student around the school, describing the eclectic way of life the people of County High have created to a young man, not unlike himself a few months ago. He takes it with skepticism and confusion.
"You give each other bark to ask people out? I knew I'd hate Everwood and its inane citizens." He gives Ephram an eye roll and folds him arms nonchalantly.
It slips of his tongue, coming forth with ease. Ephram wouldn't have even noticed it himself.
"We're really not that bad. Give us a chance."
We.
Everwood and I. County High and I.
We.
He repeats it in his mind, wondering why it sounds so wrong, yet so natural.
"I'll never get used to it," the boy says, watching the other students go about their lifves.
"You'll learn to love this place sooner than you think." Ephram gives a half-smile.
-Fin-
Dedicated to: Bella Italiana, aka Lauren, for being an incredibly talented writer, and an encouraging friend. Read her stories!
Okay, who else loved when Ephram told Amy he was home?? I did!! Like, finally! And please review! I live and thrive on them, and you'll totally make my day.
Manifest Destiny
It took three months to convince him to move to Everwood. His father didn't convince him as much as forced him, though. He savored his last few days in New York, spending hourse just wandering 5th Avenue, counting the number of 'I heart NY' memorabilia he passed, hailing taxis for even the shortest distances.
He ate his last New-York style pretzel, New York was the only place that made it right anyway. He gave his last few quarters to a street performer, and for the sake of it, gathered in the large mob outside Times' Square at three-thirty. It was a place he usually avoided, the primetime headquarters of TRl, but he learned to love the frenetic bustle that was New York. He knew he would miss it.
It was a six hour plane ride to get there, the entire while in an eerie silence. He ignored the urgent taps on the shoulder his sister gave hi, not acknowledging his father's weak attempts at humor with a smile. He sat in distant mind, leaving the world as well as his soul in New York.
He gripped the armrests tightly at take-off, reminded as the plane's wheels made last contact with the runway, he was making last contact with his home, bidding a silent adieu to the city he was born in, raised in, loved with all his heart. His home was with his mother, he needed to be with her. Her.. grave was in New York. That's where he needed to be too.
It took five hours to put their belongings in the house. He helped, pulling out box after box, stacking them in the corresponding rooms. He stared at the nine boxes in his. It all seemed so alien. And as he unpacked, placing CDs on the dresser and posters on the wall, it couldn't be farther from what it was supposed to be. It was not his room. He couldn't bring himself to hang the sign, stuffing it in a drawer.
He spent thirty minutes trying to find his first period class, meeting stand-offish leaders of cliques and aloof members of the football team on the way. He couldn't take him eyes of the glaring words that taunted him wherever he went. County High. His new school. The sound of it pierced his ears.
It took five seconds to declare Amy Abbott as the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Her radiant smile, warm glow, and kind aura attracted him to her, believing maybe the town wasn't all he was making it out to be. He thought of her incessantly, he dreamt of her, played for her, whispered her name into the night. Everwood had its very own golden angel, reason enough to give his pessimistiv views a second thought.
A four hour bus ride to Denver, a heart-wrenching, painful, emotionally tearing four hourse. The truth, Amy was just out of reach, made his head pound, his stomach to carousel, to bring blurry tears to his eyes. And yet the truth, Amy's inbelievably genuine smile, whether at the thought of him or Colin, softened his intense eyes and melted his stiff lip, curving it into a soft smile.
It was a week until he memorized his new school schedule and got the hand of his inconsistent locker. He learned to internally time the bell, take the shortest routes to his classes.
It was the same week he discovered the puzzling basis of Everwood's way of life, trying his best to avoid it. He ignored amazingly stupid school rituals concerning foliage invitations and carnivals devoted to a western warm front. He steered clear of their after-school hangouts. He was the anti-Everwoodian. Others turned away from his non-conformist rebellion. Amy embraced it.
Metaphorically, of course.
It didn't take long after a week to find his way around town, remembering the way back home from school. Recognized landmarks such as maple trees and playgrounds. Everwood's small size made it easy to get accostomed to, no matter how hard he resisted it. He soon drank his first cup of Mama Joy's coddee, the premiere attraction at the little cafe. He began to learn the history of every Everwood resident, finding himself sucked into the town's attraction to gossip.
It took a week and a half until he earned his first nickname in Everwood, Ham. The other students remained to call him 'Paleface', the kindest of many others, but Amy continued to greet Ham, claiming he looked like the namesake, Hamlet. He joked, wishing he didn't have the tragic gate of the Shakesperean character, but not stopping Amy's trivial game with him. He learned to love it as well, the brief moment of settling in, normalcy, and frienship he had finally developed.
In two weeks, he went to the Fall Thaw, one of Everwood's more frivolous celebrations. And he unfairly judged it to the Macy's Thanksgiving parade, laughing to see people overjoyed at ice scuptures, hay rides, ferris wheels. He got a heavy dose of reality on that ferris wheel, reminded of the truth that Amy would never be his. And confirmed Bright's theory he had ignored in the past. That she was using him.
The celebration came to a halt, with the more disturbing talk his father had with his mother, the hallucination, others had said. The thought of his mother called a hallucination brought an aching feeling in his chest. He admitted to seeing her sometimes as well. And he talked with his father for a long time that night, wihtout breaking into a fight. He noticed his father's conversations with his mother decreased. And he began to see her less. But he felt her all the same.
It took a weekend to realize home is where the heart is. Just as the deer would find a new place to live, he regretfully discovered that he would have to as well. 'Home is with mom' he had said, palpiations making him dizzy as blood rushed to his head. Home is where the heart is. His heart was with his family. His family was in Everwood. And someday he would grow to love it, just as he had New York. He was in Everwood for good. The question was what he would make of it.
It wasn't long before he dropped the title, 'The New Guy' from his introduction. The teachers stopped giving him leeway because he had just moved. He replaced the picture of his locker of the New York skyline with a drawing of Amy in ballet class he had done one day. He stopped asking his father why he had moved them all to the middle of nowhere.
Soon after, he dug into his forgotten drawer and excavated the sign, hanging 'Ephram's Room' on the door. It finally was his room, it finally was his home, in this crazy little town. But he'd never admit that to himself. It was the same day he picked up his first Pinecone, reading some absurd article about aliens in Everwood. And he learned his way around the house in the dark, counted the number of steps on the stairs. He hung up the posters he had been too angsty to put up on the wall. This was no longer a stopping point for him.
It took three weeks to compose Amy's song. It was well-worth it, to see the delight on her face when she learned it was for her. To see her whisked into a dream at the sound of dulcet song. She was the person he had said was the only person he cared about in the entire town. He loved her, no question in that. He would do anything for her. If only she would do the same.
He knew her for three months when he kissed her. In those four seconds, he had everything he had ever wanted. Her. His sacrifices, hopes, dreams, all came down to that moment. He had pure happiness in his hands and in near his lips.
It took another four seconds at the Canyon to take it all away. Never did eight words have so much impact, as she tore into him, ripped out his heart and soul until he had nothing. He had lost the one person he loved, the person that made Everwood home. Without her, he lost his home, and without a home, where was he?
Nothing. That's how he felt, as he tried to feel no pain. And as he returned hom, overwhelming intoxication flowing through him, he made a hastened decision, one he should have never made. To move back to New York.
He lost Amy, he lost his father who he thought might have never been able to get through to him, he lost his sense of hope and pride, all in that night. And it took another night, just as eventful, to bring it all to order, to bring him to his senses, once and for all. He belonged.
It took three hours to make a Grateful book, that brought unmeasurable happiness and optimistic futures with Amy the same day. It took an hour with Delia to shop for the ingredients for the Thanksgiving dinner, and another three to mix it all into an edible substance.
Six seconds for his father to say what he had been wanting, waiting for his entire life, whether or not he knew it. To hear those words, that his father had finally found his son. And he wanted to tell them that he had also found his father, though it took him five months, a bizzare spur of the moment move to a town in the Rockies, and the loss of his mother, he had found his father, too.
Three months from now, Ephram is showing a new student around the school, describing the eclectic way of life the people of County High have created to a young man, not unlike himself a few months ago. He takes it with skepticism and confusion.
"You give each other bark to ask people out? I knew I'd hate Everwood and its inane citizens." He gives Ephram an eye roll and folds him arms nonchalantly.
It slips of his tongue, coming forth with ease. Ephram wouldn't have even noticed it himself.
"We're really not that bad. Give us a chance."
We.
Everwood and I. County High and I.
We.
He repeats it in his mind, wondering why it sounds so wrong, yet so natural.
"I'll never get used to it," the boy says, watching the other students go about their lifves.
"You'll learn to love this place sooner than you think." Ephram gives a half-smile.
-Fin-
Dedicated to: Bella Italiana, aka Lauren, for being an incredibly talented writer, and an encouraging friend. Read her stories!
Okay, who else loved when Ephram told Amy he was home?? I did!! Like, finally! And please review! I live and thrive on them, and you'll totally make my day.