Chapter Two:

Lies

As I headed out the glass doors of the academy, the past events were still raw in my mind.

I met with the cool breeze of the October winds through my thick flannel zip-up, the draft penetrating through my jacket as if it were a paper towel.

I shivered instinctively. I was grateful for the cold front, since it had only just been cooling down, and winter was my favorite season. I loved wearing the winter clothing: the scarves... the mittens... and burlap coats, the insulating boots that came up to the knee… I loved it all. It was only autumn, but I was highly anticipating the coming winter months in only a few passing weeks. More like I was anticipating Winter Break.

I exited down the grand front entrance of the school, feeling small and insignificant in comparison to its amazing three story height and dark, huge, brick stature. At the front entrance, there was perfectly manicured ten foot hedges, sculpted and crafted into thick spiraling noodles and large squares. Flowers delicately but regally laced the outer edges of the gardens, like a lace trim on a large dress. I threw my woven scarf around my neck as I bared myself against the powerful winds of fall. I hurried to my car, an old and quite meager hunk of scrap metal that once belonged to my father belonged to my father when he was just a teenager. It was a dull, dark green with chips around the front and back headlights. It wasn't perfect on the outside; heck! You could probably donate the old thing to science, but it was perfect for me. It was the final 'living' remnant that I had of my father. I had never tried to clean it or put too much air freshener on the inside, wanting to salvage the scent of my father's days alive.

I slipped into the driver's seat, grabbed the keys out of my small, vintage canvas bag, slid the keys into the ignition and backed out into the parking lot. I knocked hard on the dashboard twice (it was the only way it would stay on), and headed off towards my job.

I'd had a passion for books ever since I could remember. It was pre-school when I purchased my first book, a children's book that had three little ducklings on the front. I remember I read it in one day, the little ducklings being seperated from their mother, and then from each other was simply one of the best plots that I'd ever read. I also remember my mother was quite alarmed that I'd finished the whole book in such a short time and was easily able to recite the entire book to her in one minute. Ever since then, I'd read hundreds upon hundreds of books, ranging from fantasy to romance to science fiction to non-fiction biographies. I'd never seen it as a chore, always as a wonderful privilege. As soon as I'd turned sixteen, I'd applied for a job a Books & Lattés, my favorite hang-out spot since the seventh grade. Since then, I'd been a faithful employee, missing one day in the entire year, only because of a funeral. So, every Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday after school I headed down to the bookstore to work to sort books and help people find what they needed. I was the modest girl who always worked in between the bookshelves and knew where anything and everything was. I pulled to a stop at a light across from the "Market", a place where Cassie and I would always drive slowly past as we admired all the hot seniors and college freshmen that swarmed this area. We'd "window shop", pick up a new one everyday, and make up their life story. One time, we saw a Spanish-looking guy, and we'd made an entire story about how he'd only just moved from Spain, trying to fit in with the American lifestyle all the while searching for his true "amor". We'd laughed endlessly at our stories about our indiscriminate selections, but now as I passed by this street, the passenger seat where Cassie would usually sit now bare, all I felt was a sense of melancholy. I let out a little sigh as I drove down the unpaved avenue that followed the "Market" until I came down to the quiet part of town. There, I saw the bookstore sign glowing modestly against the brick building, and I pulled into the little strip mall.

I got my things together, grabbed my blue work polo with a little "Books & Lattes" logo stitched to the left breast out of the back seat, removed my flannel blazer, and threw it on over my pink V-neck. I put my blazer back on, tossed my multi-colored scarf around me, and headed inside, not forgetting to manually lock the driver's side door. I pulled open both sets of glass doors, the first opening up to a little pre-browse section, the second revealing the store. I was met with a luscious aroma of cinnamon, choco-chip cookies, and the cool scent of new book material. I waved a hello to my three other co-workers. Well, all except for one. There was Michael, a balding man in his forties, but with one of the warmest smiles you'd ever see. He was married once but his wife died years ago, and he had one daughter who was in high school. I'd met her once, and she was a direct reflection of her dad, both of them some of the most charming people you'd ever meet. Next was Blanche, an old woman who also shared the same passion for books just as I did, and a woman of amazing optimism. The world could be coming to an end, meteors falling and all and she would probably say something like, "Keep your head up," or "There's always a light at the end of that tunnel, y'know." I always came to her with all my problems, because no matter how bad it seemed, she'd always find a way to get me back up to my best condition and ready to roll in no time. Last was Leland, my arch nemesis since I'd first started working here. Le, I called him for short, was the most challenging guy I'd ever met, and the fact that his eyes were the weirdest shade of yellow that I'd ever seen, annoyed me. It kept me from really being able to look at him when we talked. I always felt like I was lower than him when we spoke. I knew it wasn't true, because he was enrolled at Foreland High, the most average school ever. No one special came from there, but something about him, some kind of fierceness about him, was different. And it irritated me.

When I first came here, he was sitting at the counter, reading a kid's book, and when he looked up at me, I almost fell over when I saw them. "What do you want?" he asked, annoyed by my presence. I was immediately shrunken about three inches after his question. I seriously thought about not applying and just asking for a book and leaving the way I'd come in.

"I was just going to…I was just…just…" my words were strangled in my throat by his hostile stare.

"Yes?" he spat sharply.

"I was applying for a job here… if you're hiring…" I whispered.

"Oh. Here," he replied, obviously bored with my answer. He threw a piece of paper at me with a flick of his wrist. I caught it against my chest, now aggravated by his attitude.

"Fill it out. Here's a pen." He handed the pen to me. I snatched it from his hands, and stared at him with all my might. I didn't have a lot of bravado in me, but I gave him all the audacity that I could muster up. He looked incredulously back at me, our silent stares sending electrical sparks between us. He looked surprised at my boldness, so I was thoroughly pleased by his expression. It hadn't been but three minutes and we had already become enemies.

"Thank you very much." I replied sassily, never breaking eye contact with the boy. I went to go look for a place to sit and fill out the paper. I sat down and completed it as slowly as I could, wanting to get on his nerves, him wondering when I'd come back. As soon as I'd returned to the counter, I looked for his bored frown and his lazy eyes. He was nowhere to be found. Instantly infuriated, I was about to turn around, crumple the application, toss it in the garbage and leave, when a tall, nice-looking man called over to me.

"Oh, hello! Are you applying? If you are, thank the heavens! I've wanted a new youth to come and join eventually, or we'd never survive! This bookstore has been on the edge, if you know what I'm sayin', eh? Eh?" I was thrown by the onslaught of words that he put at me, but I processed what he said and replied plainly.

"Yes, I'm applying."

"Well, that's just wonderful! You're hired!" With that, he grabbed my application, shook my hand, and walked away, leaving me there. I was a bit dazed at what just happened, just as I was about to leave, he said to me,

"You don't think it's that easy, do ya? Come and follow me back here, ma'am. Oh! I didn't even get your name young lady. What is it?"

"Etain Comrie." I replied.

"Oh, what a nice name. It's a unique one, where y'from?"

"My dad was from Scotland. My mother is African-American. Eliet Comrie? She was a model." I said.

"Oh, well, then, that explains it," he interjected with a wink.

I smiled modestly as he led me to the employee room.

"Alright, so this is how it works here. Adapt to your surroundings. Learn the way of the bookstore. You are going to know all of the sections of the store by the end of this week, y'hear? Second, you will be part time barista on the days that our regular is not here. You work with a smile at all the times you are within a customer's sight. I want you to enjoy your other time of your life, so you are going to be working on all through the week except for Wednesdays. You can come through on the weekends if you'd like. So you see you've got a pretty flexible schedule.

"Be here on time, or its goodbye. You need to prove yourself to be a valuable employee before you get any more lenience than you're getting now. Thanks for coming, and your first day is tomorrow. Now, let me get you your work uniform and you can be on your way, missy." He finished his lecture with a smile and went into a metal closet to fetch me a polo work shirt.

"Are you a medium? Small?" he asked.

"Medium," I answered.

He yanked a shirt from out of the cabinet and handed it to me with a warm smile. Then, he reached into a desk drawer nearby and gave me a nametag that I'd clip on to my shirt or belt.

"Here you go." He motioned me to sign my name on the tag.

I signed it with a name tag, and looked up at him again.

"Thank you…um…Mr.…" I hesitated.

"Oh! That's right, how utterly rude of me. My name's Chris. Chris Michelson, but you can call me Chris." He said with yet another genial smile, extending his hand so I could shake it. His grasp handshake was strong and rhythmic, his eyes never breaking from mine. As soon as he'd let go of my hand, he'd motioned me out with a, "Run along now, I'm guessing you'd need to be on with your studies." I headed outside to my car, scarf around neck, and sat for a few seconds in awe of what just happened. No one ever told me getting a job would ever be that easy! I thought, amazed. As I was in my little moment of thought, I was just about to slide the keys into the ignition when something in my peripheral caught my eye. Something yellow.

I caught Leland looking at me from inside his car, a dark blue, sleek sports car. As soon as our eyes connected, he looked away quickly, pulled out, and drove away in a flash, leaving me barely enough time to process what had just happened.

All had become silent from within my car, enough that I could hear my own heartbeat. My heart was racing, but I didn't know why. What was wrong with him? I asked, frustrated. Even more… what's wrong with me?

Since that day, Leland and I never had as much as a five-minute conversation, always retreating to opposite corners of the store to do our own business. As hostile as he was, he was at the cash register while I was in between the bookcases, sorting and categorizing. I'd never really wanted to find out more about hi, neither him me. But something, something about him, it wasn't his demeanor, I knew that, but maybe something deeper in him, always had me unconsciously gravitating towards him. But I didn't want to get any closer.

So it was a Thursday after Avery had asked me out on a date, and I had called my mom to tell her I would be working at the bookstore until seven. After I'd finished my shift, I'd headed home to sleep. During my drive home, I kept on thinking about what had happened between me and Avery. I debated telling my mother, my excitement nearly uncontainable, but decided against doing so. I drove into my little community of houses, Amber Peak, headed down a couple streets to my house, and pulled in. I grabbed all of my belongings, trudged up the driveway, and opened the door.

"Mom!" I called out. I waited for a reply.

"Etain, is that you?" she asked mildly.

"Yeah," I replied tiredly.

"There's some ham in the fridge and some soup in there, too, so if you're hungry…" her voice died with a few little mumbles, then nothing.

"Alright," I said quietly, dropping my things down onto a high chair at the island, and coming around to look in the fridge and see what I'd have. I decided on a yogurt and some granola.

My house was pretty big. Having a high ceiling with glass on sections of the roof and four bedrooms and four bathrooms, not to mention a full basement and a loft, with a large lake view, it was pretty grand. I'd never fully been satisfied with the house though, since it only had two occupants, and never possessed that "homey" feel. And our other inhabitant, Cassie, was now in Spain as an exchange student, while I was stuck in old Connecticut, nothing exciting happening here. She would almost always be here on the weekends and on every other day of the week, even though I'd say her house was more immense than this, her father being the CEO of a world-recognized electric company, Supreme Electric. Her father had known my father before we were even born, so we basically adopted her into the family. I wondered how I had come to be so fortunate, financially. I could fly different places, I mean, I already had my passport, and I was only sixteen. My birthday would be coming up, March 27th, so soon my 18th year would be around the corner. I sat, eating my yogurt at the lone island, thinking about what I would wear to my date with Avery, without Cassie's usual help. She was a fashion guru, while I only just passed with a basic knowledge of what goes together and what doesn't. But my sadness would quickly fade and I was sure my empty friend nest syndrome would as well... when Saturday approached.

I headed upstairs, took a shower, attempting to wash away my thoughts along with whatever the day left with me, and went to bed.

Friday passed quickly, since we also didn't have any school that day either, and I did all my homework that day. I had some more pre-Cal and a report to do on Julius Caesar, and so I worked on until I felt it was satisfactory enough for the teacher. I managed to finish all my work by three, leaving me just enough time to get to work on time. In the year that I'd been working there, I'd never been late. Even so, the second week I'd been there Chris said I'd proven myself and lifted the conditions, saying that I was always on time, he was impressed, and I wouldn't get fired if I came in late one time. But Michael, Blanche, Leland and I all knew he was a pushover. That didn't matter, anyway. I was never late or absent from work. Ever.

I grabbed my things and headed inside, eagerly wanting to escape the cold. I headed to the back, waving at Blanche, who was in the front, humming some old tune as she set some new books out on display. She waved back, the sweetest little smile on her face, her light gray hair tied into a low ponytail, the hair reaching no father than upper back. Michael appeared later as I headed farther back into the store to drop my things off in the back, and of course he asked me how I was and how was school and all of that. Michael was such a good person sometimes, even if someone wasn't always the best to him. You would've thought the passing of his wife would've hardened him, but no, it seems as if it opened his heart.

I didn't see Leland, and I wouldn't have waved to him anyway. I entered in the key, 2475, and headed inside, only to see him there, setting his things down, too, across the way. The room was instantly filled with an electric, tension filled current.

Why did he have to work here? I moaned internally. As I turned the opposite direction to set my things in my locker, I could feel his cold stare on my back, making me blush involuntarily, annoying the heck out of me. He walked swiftly past, bored but unfriendly look forever plastered on his features. I wanted so badly to punch him in his stupid face, but I just held it together and waited five minutes before I walked out. This job would actually be enjoyable if he weren't here, and what angered me most? He actually didn't do anything to me that would be considered illegal, unless you could call hostile looks and cold stares illegal. Sometimes I wished I could just call the cops on him and tell them he was being a total jerk and a douche, take him to jail. But of course that wouldn't work, because he didn't actually express his dislike for me. I just didn't like him. And you know when you know someone doesn't like you, but they just don't say. It was so annoying. But even under my high dislike of him, there was a part of me that wished we could be friends, and just put away what we had started and just try to like each other, since we really couldn't avoid one another.

But I couldn't even imagine that happening.

I worked quietly and absently, wanting my time here to go by fast. I positioned myself at the very back of the store so I wouldn't have to see whether the windows were darkening or not; that helped to keep my mind off the time. It worked.

I flipped open my phone, and it flickered 7:57 pm, my shift being over at eight. I hurried into the employee room, grabbed my things from my locker, and left, waving goodbye to my co-workers.

I headed home once again, a similar routine from the day before, and went to bed. Tomorrow would get very, very interesting, I could barely contain my excitement within the confines of my body. I couldn't wait for the date.