BlackMoon Beginnings (6 page)

“Are you okay?” I jump, not expecting anyone
to find me here. I didn’t think anyone knew where this was for this
was my secret place. I look over and see Colton staring at me with
concern in his eyes.

I quickly wipe my tears away, “I’m fine.”

He walks into the gazebo and sits his large
frame across from me. He looks awkward; it is almost comical. The
gazebo is meant for children and his six foot frame barely fits
under it. I would have laughed if my mind wasn't elsewhere. He
shakes off the rain from his jacket and takes his hood off. His
hair is messy, but on him it’s a good look. Running a hand through
his hair, he attempts to fix it.

“You don’t look fine.” I just stare at him. I
barely know this guy. The first time I ever met him was at the
bookstore last weekend.

“I’ll
be
fine.”

“This isn’t about what happened at the
library, is it?”

I wrap my arms around my legs and look in the
distance. He’s perceptive, I’ll give him that. “No, I’m used to
that.” I pause and look down, avoiding eye contact. “My mom and I
used to come here when I was a kid,” I whisper.

“I’m sorry about your mom.”

“I don’t want your sympathy, Colton. I can’t
take it anymore. Everyone treats me like I’m so fragile; like I’m
made of glass and going to break at any second.”

He continues to stare at me, expressionless.
I can’t decipher what he is thinking about, but that doesn't matter
because he speaks up after a few seconds. “I understand what you're
going through. I lost my parents too. I live with my aunt and
brother. You've met her. She owns the bookstore.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting that, so I’m not
sure how to respond. He won’t stop looking at me and his incessant
staring is starting to bother me. I begin to fidget under his gaze;
my thoughts turning into mush. I can’t concentrate or think
straight. I know that my face is slowly turning a deeper shade of
red, but I’m hoping that it isn’t as obvious under the dim
illumination. “Stop looking at me like that.”

With a small laugh he replies, “Like
what?”

“I don’t know,” I point at him. “Like that;
like you’re doing right now.”

He starts laughing—it’s a pleasant laugh that
sends my stomach into a fit of butterflies. I just met this guy; I
shouldn’t be reacting like this already. “Ok, I won’t look at
you.”

“Thank you.” At that moment, my phone beeps.
Thankful for the distraction, I open the text. It is a message from
Jane:
Going over to Ross’s for the night. You have the house to
yourself. Good luck on your finals tomorrow!
I frown. Alone
again.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I have to go.” I get up and walk
out from under the gazebo. Then remembering what he did earlier, I
stop. “Thanks for helping me in the library, Colton.” I turn back
around and run down the path towards the car, trying to avoid the
steady rain.

I feel his eyes on me the entire time.

Tuesday came and went with no problems. It
finally stopped raining too. The sun is shining, the birds are
chirping. It is going to be a good day. I’m determined to make it a
good day.

I got an A on my test in English and B’s on
both my Government and Art History finals. The only final I have
left is English. I just have to get a C to pass the class. So I’m
not really worried about it, but I’ve been studying a lot for this
test. I got another message from Jane telling me that she isn’t
going to be home at all this week. She and Ross are going on a
business retreat with their company.

I roll over and look at my alarm clock. It’s
6:55 a.m. My alarm is set to go off in five minutes. Groaning, I
get out of bed and turn my alarm off. I won’t be able to fall back
asleep anyways. The house is quiet while I am getting ready. So, I
plug in my iPod and dance around my room to pass the time. I am in
a good mood by the time I have to leave the house. It is sunny when
I walk outside and begin walking towards the school.

Entering the school parking lot in the
morning isn’t fun. Most people are already at school, so everyone
is talking with their friends. Because I don’t drive to school, I’m
watched as I pass through the lot. More people are looking at me
than usual, whispering. I meet a few eyes, but focus on the ground
as I walk the remaining distance to the door.

I walk into the main entrance and walk down
the hallway towards my locker. I get a lot of glances as I walk
through the hall. No one ever looks at me during the school day.
I’m the school outcast…the loner. The invisible girl.

As I get closer, I notice people standing
around my locker, pointing and laughing. In bright red paint,
someone had written the word FREAK down the length of my locker. I
instantly know who did it. I look around and find Lily and Adam
standing at the other side of the hallway, smirking at me.

I walk right past them all and into my first
block class. Since it was the last day of school, most teachers
don’t have anything for the students to do anyways. The teachers
put a movie on just to pass the time. The day goes by in a blur. I
don’t stop at my locker and won’t until school ends.

By the time fourth block comes around, I
become even more anxious. This test is worth twenty percent of my
grade. I am barely passing at this point, so I have to do well. My
heart starts beating harder in anticipation. Each step Mrs.
Applegate takes towards me increases my heart rate. When she gets
to my desk, I am sure the whole classroom can hear it. She places
the paper down on my desk and whispers good luck.

Writing my name of the final is the easy
part, everything after that is a different story. On every
question, I second guess all my answers. I know that I know them,
but something in my mind keeps pulling me towards another response.
The room is so quiet, that I can hear the clock ticking on the
opposite end of the room.

Every pencil squeak, chair scrape, and
shuffling of feet sounds a thousand times louder than usual. Every
tick of the clock tells me that I am one second closer to the end
and each one makes me more nervous. I keep fidgeting with the flame
necklace, a nervous habit I’d recently acquired, while I stare down
at the test. When the bell finally rings and it is time to turn the
test in, I am not as confident as I was when I entered the
classroom.

I smile at Mrs. Applegate and wish her a
great summer. Everyone is screaming, throwing paper around the
hallway, excited for the summer. I turn to the left and walk around
the school, hoping that by the time I get to my locker, everyone
will be gone. A few minutes later, I turn right and walk down the
math hallway—the hallway where my locker is located. The crowds
have lessened by this time, but there are still a few people
roaming the halls.

I stop at my locker and look at the word
written across it, frowning. At least I didn’t have to see this
everyday this year. I open my locker and grab everything out,
shoving it into my bag. I carry around a large canvas tote bag that
I had drawn leaves and vines on. Holding my doodled notebook in my
hands, I turn around to leave. Right as I turn, someone slams into
my back, knocking me into the locker.

Throwing my hands out, I avoid physically
hurting myself against it, but the momentum of the hit causes me to
drop my bag.

“Watch where you’re going, freak.” He calls
out to me as he runs away, not bothering to help. I have no idea
who he is. Tucking my hair behind my ears, I bend down to gather my
belongings from the ground: all my notebooks have spilled open, all
the papers from my folders are randomly dispersed in the hall, and
my pens and pencils are rolling in opposite directions.

“Here, I’ll help you with that.” I look up
and see Colton bending down.

“It’ll ruin your reputation. You don’t want
to be seen associating with the school freak,” I mumble.

“What?” he stops, his hands hovering over a
book and looks directly at me.

“I said thanks.”

He knows that I didn’t say that, but he
doesn’t comment. Together we are able to gather the things
relatively quickly. My doodling notebook has fallen open onto the
page with the flamed drawing.

“Did you draw this?” He asks while looking
intently at the page.

Grabbing it out of his hand, I say, “Yeah,
but I’m not finished yet.”

“It’s really good.”

Still sitting on the ground, I place the
notebook in my bag and look around making sure we have gotten
everything. Colton stands up and puts his hand out to help me. I
accept it, thankful that someone is being nice to me for once.

When I stand, I realize just how tall he is.
Looking straight ahead, I am staring at the middle of his chest. I
crane my neck back, to look up at him and thank him. When I open my
mouth to reply, it feels like pins and needles shoot up my body.
Ice cascades through my arms. I can’t move or breathe. The pain
travels up my arms and recedes into my head, where it remains. It
is so immense, I feel like I am going to pass out. I let go of
Colton’s hand, slam my eyes shut, and grab my head. I am unable to
think. All at once, I start hearing numerous voices; echoes of
those around me. All the voices are weighing me down. I let out a
whimper as my legs give out. Colton reaches out and grabs me before
I hit the ground.

“Ryanne? What’s wrong?” I barely hear him and
can’t respond. The pain is too much. So many thoughts are running
though my head:
What’s wrong with her? Why is she acting like
that? She just wants attention. Do these pants make me look fat?
I’m really hungry. SUMMER TIME. Why is he talking to her? He could
do way better than that.

Colton grabs my bag off the ground. Putting
an arm behind my knees and the other at my back, he scoops me into
his arms and carries me out the school and into the parking lot.
With hurried steps, he makes it to his car and places me in the
passenger seat, buckling me in the process.

I lean forward and rest my head on my lap,
but the voices don’t ease. It feels like everyone is screaming at
me. Colton runs across the front of the car, jumps into the
driver’s seat, and puts the car into reverse. He speeds out of the
parking lot, not even bothering to buckle his own seatbelt.

Grabbing his cell phone out of his jeans
pocket, he dials a number. “Claire, it’s definitely her. I’m
bringing her over now. I need your help.”

What did he mean, “it’s definitely her?” When
I am about to respond, a new wave of voices crashes into my head.
What should we do tonight? We have to go celebrate. I need to do
laundry. I have to hurry home, Dr. Oz is on. Ugh, my car won’t
start. Just my luck.
I whimper again, this time louder than
before.

The pain proves to be too much for my
body.

“Ryanne? Ryanne, dear, can you hear me?”

“Are you sure she’s going to be okay? She’s
been out for a while now.” I can hear people talking to me, but my
body isn’t able to respond. The voices are still in my head and
know that if I open my eyes, they will amplify again.

Slowly, my body starts to come back to life.
I can move my hands and feet. With my eyes still closed, I try to
take in my surroundings. I don’t know where I am, but it feels like
I am laying on something soft. A couch maybe?

Groaning, I grab my head—the remnant of my
previous headache still lingering. I attempt to sit up, but my body
refuses to cooperate. Someone puts their hand on my back and helps
me. I blindly thank them.

“Ryanne, can you open your eyes?” a woman
asks me.

“I’m afraid to. It hurts. The voices are too
loud.” I whisper.

“I’m going to help you, but I need you to
look at me first.”

I take a deep breath and mentally prepare
myself for the onslaught of voices. I slowly open my eyes and see
three worried faces looking back at me. Colton and his aunt are
sitting on the coffee table directly in front of me, while another
guy stands quietly behind them. He looks just like Colton facially,
but isn’t as tall, has shorter hair, and broader shoulders.

I wince as the voices get slightly louder,
but it isn’t nearly as loud as before. “Ryanne, look at me.
Concentrate on my voice.”

Turning towards her, I focus only on her. “My
head hurts.”

“I know and it will. I’m going to try and
help you,” she tells me. “Think only about me. Forget about what
you are hearing. Focus on my voice.”

I try to only listen to her, but I can’t. It
is too hard. Too many voices are trying to get my attention. I’m
not able to hold onto just one.
I hope she’s okay. She’s looks
so pale. Hopefully, she can get a handle on this.

In frustration, I slam my eyes shut. “I can’t
do it. They’re too loud. I can’t concentrate.”

“Aunt Claire, can I try?” asks Colton. “I’m
the one who woke her magic up, maybe I can help her control
it.”

“I guess it can’t hurt anything.”

“Ryanne, open your eyes.”

I hear the sounds of shuffling and someone
touches my leg. Hesitantly, I open my eyes and stare into an abyss
of green.

“I’m going to try and walk you through this.
Concentrate on me. Block out all background noise. Don’t listen to
any of the voices. Focus on my voice and my voice only. Now, think
of somewhere that you feel safe. The gazebo maybe,” he suggests.
“Imagine yourself there. Think about the scene. Forget the voices.
What color are the trees? What season is it? Who are you with?
Think about that.”

I close my eyes and think back to the time
where my mother and I went to the park and ate under the gazebo. It
was during the summer when I was eight years old. We set up a
picnic. I remember being really happy. It was sunny. I ran around
in the grass around the gazebo chasing insects. While we were
eating, a blue butterfly landed on my arm. My mother said that the
butterfly meant that I was special. That someone was watching over
me.