BlackMoon Beginnings (5 page)

I can feel the excitement in the air as I
walk through the doors of the school. I only have to survive three
more days. Three days until the end of school. Three more days to
bring up my English grade. Oh dear.

The bell rings after second block signaling
the time for first lunch. I despise lunch time. Everyone crowds in
the cafeteria, gets their lunches, and then separates into their
cliques: the stereotypical cheerleaders, the jocks, the nerds, etc.
These cliques have been formed since middle school. Now in high
school, everyone has a place. They’re sitting together, laughing,
and discussing the latest gossip. Those who don’t have a place are
the loners and outcasts. That’s where I fit in. I didn’t fit in at
any table and never really have, so I eat lunch in the library.

“Good afternoon, Ryanne. How are you today?”
the librarian, Mrs. Templesmith, asks politely.

“I’m good. A little worried. I have to pass a
test during fourth block if I want to pass the class.”

“Oh goodness, you best get to studying
now!”

Laughing, I reply, “I will, I’ll sit in the
back, so I don’t disturb anyone.”

Walking to the back of the library, I place
my bag on the table that I’ve officially claimed as my own. No one
comes to this part of the library anyways. It’s full of old
historical books that only history buffs like to read. The area is
filled with the aroma of old books. Some people like the smell of
gasoline, freshly mown grass, flowers, but I love the smell of old
books. The yellowing pages and rough covers fascinate me. Books
have many stories to tell, on and off their pages. The words within
the binding take me to a world much different than my own. When you
get lost in a book, you forget about all your problems because
you’re so engrossed in the character’s lives. They are full of fact
and fiction, fully intertwined to create a masterpiece of
unthinkable proportions.

I sit down at the table and open up my lunch
sack, pulling out my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I take a
bite out of it and reach for my book to flip through it one last
time. I learned in my psychology class last year that cramming and
last-minute study sessions don’t actually help scores any, yet we
all still do it. After about ten minutes, I hear footsteps in the
row beside me and a man starts whispering to someone.

“No, I don’t know for sure if it is her yet,
but I’m pretty positive it is. She doesn’t appear to know anything
though. No, I’ve only spoken to her that one time. You were with
me, you know what happened.” He sighs, “I’ve been trying. I haven’t
seen her yet. Fine. Fine. I understand. Class is about to start, I
have to go.” I hear the sound of a phone shutting and then
footsteps walking away from my vicinity.

I stay quiet for the next couple of minutes,
afraid that whoever that was will catch me eavesdropping. When no
one shows up, I pack up my belongings and walk towards the front of
the library. “Did anyone come in here during this block?” I ask
Mrs. Templesmith when I stop by her desk.

“No, I haven’t seen anyone. Why?”

“No reason. Just wondering. Thank you. I’m
going to head to class now. Bye Mrs. Templesmith!”

“Bye dear, good luck on your test.” She
smiles and waves at me. She is always in a good mood. She’s one of
the only people from this school that I will actually miss once
this year ends.

“Thanks!” I walk out of the library and down
the hallway, staring at the floor as I go, not wanting to meet
anyone’s eyes. Most people avoid me anyways. I enter my third block
class, Government with Mr. Zane, right as the bell rings. He gives
me a stern look. He hates when students are late to class.

Mr. Zane is old. Large glasses, about half
the size of his face, magnify his eyes. He reminds me of Geri from
the Pixar short
Geri’s Game
. He can’t hear very well, so he
talks incredibly loud. Apparently he thinks our hearing is as bad
as his. To top it all off, his lectures are incredibly boring. His
monotone voice drones on until the very end of the block.

Still giving me the stern look, he walks over
to the door, shuts it and turns off the lights. The only light
comes from the PowerPoint presentation being projected at the front
of the class room, but because the background is white, it gives me
enough light to continue my doodles.

An hour and a half later, he turns the light
back on and the bell rings. I close my notebook without fully
looking at it, gather my belongings, and walk out of the
classroom.

I am the first student in Mrs. Applegate’s
classroom. The look of surprise when she sees me is priceless. I’m
rarely on time to class. I sit at my desk, patiently waiting for
class to start. Mrs. Applegate keeps shooting glances at me, most
likely confused about what I am doing. I am determined not to fail
this test. When the bell finally rings, I get a number two pencil
out of my bag and stare at the board in the front of the room.

Mrs. Applegate stands up and walks to the
podium, bringing her attendance list with her. Because my last name
is Arden, I am always first. When she is done taking attendance,
she gives a brief spiel about this test: “This test has fifty
questions and a small essay afterward. You have the full class
period to finish it. Good luck.”

When I get my test, I look at the first
question and smile. I know this. I can easily get an A on this. An
hour later, I turn in my test, feeling confident that I did well.
Mrs. Applegate looks at me, a question in her eyes. I smile at her.
I can see the relief in her expression as I turn around and walk
away.

Walking back to my desk, I stumble on a
backpack in the aisle. I hear snickers throughout the room and know
that my cheeks turn red from embarrassment.

I sit back down and look out the window and
notice the peculiar weather. The sun is still out, but small rain
clouds are slowly covering it up. It doesn’t rain though. After a
few seconds, the clouds leave as quickly as they came, dissipating
into the distance.

I sit back in my chair and get out my doodle
notebook. I look down at the drawing I was working on earlier and
gasp. I see a few heads turn in my direction, but I ignore them.
Encompassing the entire page, I’d drawn flames, with intricate
swirls and designs located inside; the same flames that I’d seen on
Liam’s arm.

When the bell rings, I jump up and leave the
room quickly. No one says anything to me as I make my way through
the school and out the front doors. Rounding the corner, I look
towards the house and see that Jane is home again.

“Hey, Ryanne, How did your test go?”

“It was easy. I’m almost 100% positive that I
passed. Why are you home so early?” I ask right as I hear something
fall in the kitchen. “Who’s in there?”

“That’s excellent. Oh, Ross is over. He’s
making a romantic dinner for me. Do you mind going somewhere else
for the evening?” She looks so excited. She hasn’t stopped smiling
since I walked through the door.

“I guess I could go to the library.”

“Thanks, Ryanne.” She walks up to me and
gives me a hug, before skipping back into the kitchen. I walk up to
my room and gather up some things: my iPod, my notebook, and a
couple pencils. I don’t really want to go to the library, but I
don’t really have anywhere else to go. I grab the car keys off the
side table beside the front door. I can hear Jane’s laughter in the
kitchen as I pass and I am glad that she is happy, but I’m also
sad, because I know that it’s happening already. The only person in
my life that actually cares for me is going to push me aside and
forget me.

I quietly lock the front door and take a step
outside. I stop after a minute and groan. It is incredibly muggy;
the muggy weather that occurs after a long bout of rain in the
middle of a hot summer. The kind of muggy that makes your hair
frizz and leaves your body feeling sticky. This is the type of
weather that dampens your mood the second you step out into it.

Getting in the car, I turn the air
conditioning on as high as it will go. My hair needs some sort of
angel to save it from the impending poof. I have what I call poodle
syndrome. Whenever moisture is in the air, my hair becomes
uncontrollably curly and frizzes and I end up looking like a
poodle.

The library is located on the outskirts of
town. It doesn’t take long to get there. I drive the 35 mph speed
limit, only having to stop at the one stop light in town. It is
right in front of the BlackMoon Bookstore. My eyes are drawn to the
building, but I am unable to see anything inside. I have this
strange urge to go in, but I know that it will only lead to further
embarrassment. When the light turns green, I pull away and continue
driving to the library.

I park in the library parking lot and notice
the others cars there. There is a shiny red jeep parked at the far
side of the lot.
Crap
. Lily and Adam are here. Lily and Adam
are the most popular couple in school. Lily is the head cheerleader
and Adam is the head jock. Despite their amiable exteriors, they
are full of evil. Santa wouldn’t even give them coal for
Christmas.

I walk inside the library and head to the
back. Similar to the library at school, this one has an old
historical section that I am most content in. Not many people
frequent this area, so I should have some privacy. Everything is
fine for the first half hour. I sit at my table, my headphones in
listening to The Cab, adding more details to the flamed drawing. I
want it to be perfect.

I don’t hear the footsteps coming towards me
until it is too late. The notebook I am drawing in is ripped off
the table, out of my reach. Even before yanking my headphones out,
I know who did it. It was only a matter of time before they found
me.

With a frustrated sigh, I ask for my notebook
back.

“Look Adam, she
can
talk,” Lily says,
“Maybe after I finish looking at it, Ryan.” She never says my name
right. Ryanne.
Ry-Anne
. It’s not that difficult. I know Lily
only does it to bother me and I usually just ignore it, but today,
I’m not going to take it.

I jump up from the table and walk towards
her. With my most challenging voice, I put my left hand on my hips,
and reach for it with my right, “Please give it back.”

Nothing I could have done would have helped
my case. She is over 5’11” without heels on. I am a good eight
inches shorter than her. I wouldn’t have been able to reach the
notebook anyways.

“I don’t think so. Your mother wouldn’t want
you to spend so much time drawing. She would be very disappointed
in you. I hear you aren’t graduating with the rest of us. How
sad.”

I hate when anyone talks about my mom,
especially people who never met her. I feel tears well up in my
eyes, but I refuse to let them see them. She pushes the notebook
towards Adam and returns to looking at her nails. Adam opens it up
and starts flipping through the pages. The lights in the library
flicker as the thunder rolls outside.

I turn around and gather up my stuff.
Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I start to walk away when I hear
a deep voice behind me.

“Give it back to her.” Lily, Adam, and I all
turn to see who is speaking.

Colton.

I ignore the slight flutter in my stomach at
the sight of him. Lily and Adam scoff; no one tells them what to
do.

“Walk away, Colton. She’s not worth it,” Adam
says.

“Give her back the notebook.”

“It’s fine, Colton. I don’t need it,” I just
want to get out of the library. I don’t like confrontations. I try
stepping past Adam, but he moves in front of me, blocking my exit.
His large hand fully wraps around my upper arm as he pulls me
towards himself. I can tell that I am going to have a bruise there.
I let out a surprised gasp as I collide into him. Slowly, his hand
starts moving down my back.

This brings back too many memories and I
start to panic. He wouldn’t try anything in public would he? I try
pushing away from him, but Adam has a strong grip on me.

“Let go of me. You’re hurting me, Adam.” He
isn’t looking at me though. He is looking over me at Colton.

While the two are locked in an angry glare, I
kick Adam in the shins and grab my notebook from his hand. Before
anyone can think about what I did, I run out of the library and go
straight to the car. How do I always get myself into those
situations?

By the time I make it to the park, it is
getting dark, but I know I can’t go home yet. Pulling off to the
side of the road, I turn the engine off and get out. The park
reminds me of my childhood. My mom and I used to come here, sit
under the gazebo, and have a picnic almost every Sunday in the
summer. I have many fond memories of this place.

My body instantly takes me where I want to
go. The gazebo looks the same as it had years ago. The park is
covered in trees, so the gazebo blends in with its surroundings. It
is old and wooden; its brown coloring fading with age. Vines wrap
around all eight posts and small twinkling lights wrap around the
top, illuminating the whole structure. It almost has a magical
feeling to it.

I walk up the small stairs and brush my hands
across the old wooden façade. I can tell that no one comes out here
anymore. The gazebo looks neglected. I brush away some dirt from
the ground and sit down. Leaning my head back against the post and
getting lost in my thoughts, I let a few tears fall--the first
tears I’ve cried in over a year. This place reminds me of her.

I close my eyes, pull my knees up my chest,
and rest my head against them. With my eyes closed, I just listen
to my surroundings. All around me, I can hear the sound of the
light rain hitting the top of the gazebo and the subtle breeze
rustling the leaves against each other. In my mind, I can imagine
them communicating with each other in this manner; their slight
touch creating whispers in the wind. On this early summer day, I
can hear the crickets chirping somewhere in the distance. Every now
and then, the sound of a car driving by can be heard. The road is
far enough away that it’s not disturbing to the woodsy
atmosphere.