ONE

Eighteen-year-old Stephanie Cross dreaded getting out of  the  house. She  walked to the kitchen and found her father sitting by the dining table, full steaming cup of  coffee in hand. She kissed him softly on his forehead and whispered a goodbye. She already had enough of her difficult school days last week and now she had to endure another one. She put on her favorite baseball cap and headed out the door. Her  brown  hair  was  long  and stringy though slightly wavy at the ends. It spilled  down her  shoulders  and  covered  her face; exactly the way she wanted it. She tilted her  head  down,  focusing  on  the  cracked sidewalk she was walking on. She looked up to cross the street, but doing only that  could be dangerous.

Stephanie was born a “delicate” child. When she was  born,  her  body  was  weak and the doctors predicted she would not survive. A few  days  later,  she  was  laid  in  her mother’s arms and a few minutes after her mother  died  with  Stephanie  still in her arms. Stephanie was weak too, and it took a long time before she was permitted to  go  home. It took her a day at home to recover.  She  grew  up  normally  after  that  but,  occasionally, whenever her father would bring her  out,  she  would  go  back  home  weak.  Her  father thought the environment outside was affecting her  health.  But  it  took  Stephanie  a  few years to understand why she was so different.

She had found out when  she  was  six-years-old.  She  was  strolling  through  her neighborhood and passed  one  of  her  elderly  neighbors.  She  saw  the old man and was planning to wave and go over to talk to them,  but  the  moment  she  laid  her eyes on the elderly woman, her  heart  tightened  and  her  knees  buckled  and  she  fell  down  to  the ground. Her hands  flew  up and  clutched her chest  tightly. She  was wriggling and it felt like her heart was being squeezed. She couldn’t  breath  and she  was stiff. A few minutes later she blacked out.

When  she woke  up,  she  found  herself in the hospital, and the day after she was allowed  to go home. The nurse sat her on a wheelchair and her father wheeled her out of the room.  The hallways  were  crowded, and as  soon as she saw  the people,  she  started screaming. She  felt  different kinds of pain. Tears were running down her cheeks and her skin was tingling, like open blisters  everywhere. She felt sharp pains,  like she was being cut  open. Her  head  was  throbbing  and  her  heart  was  racing. And  soon  enough,  she blacked out and was brought back in the hospital room.

When she gained consciousness, she told her father she wanted to go home. When the doctors  did  their last check-up, she was again permitted to go home. When her father wheeled her out, she  closed her eyes shut. Her heart was racing. Would she feel it again? Everything was noisy; people  shouting  and crying,  footsteps  all  around, but everything was black. And she felt fine.

A few days after coming home, her father came back from work, and said that the elderly woman  next  door  died  of  a  heart  attack.  For  a young girl of six, she couldn’t understand what was happening to her. It took her a few  years for her to figure out why it happened. Not a day goes by when  she  doesn’t think of that  incident. She, as she thinks, has a curse, a curse of feeling someone’s pain days before they die.

Stephanie  looked  left  and right,  and  spotted  a suited  businessman;  one  of her neighbors.  She felt the  same pain she  had felt  the time she saw the elderly woman. The pain was  excruciating,  but she had  gotten so  used to that kind of pain. It was agonizing, but tolerable.  She crossed  the street  and  walked  a  few blocks  Her mind was light, airy. She didn’t black out. She crossed the street,  holding her  breath, controlling the pain inside her. She was nearing the  school,  and she  passed the  students that were chattering away. No  one minded  her,  she  was  invisible, and  that  was  fine  with  her.  She  never wanted to be too close with somebody. No. She thinks. I don’t need anybody.

 

Timothy  Adams  stared  reluctantly at the classroom door. Classes had started for the other students  and  he was standing  outside of  the  classroom with the vice-principal standing beside him.  He wondered  why  he  insisted  to his  parents for  him to  enter the school in the middle  of the year.  She knocked  on the door  and the class grew quiet. She entered  and Timothy  followed close  behind. The  class had about thirty students and the teacher was male. Sixty-two eyes were on him.

“Good morning.” The vice said.

All the students stood up and the chairs were dragged, making scraping sounds on the floor.

“Good morning Miss Carson.” The class said in unison and they all sat down again.

The class  started  to  fill  with  murmurs;  thirty  mouths  moving,  gossiping.  He caught  some  wisps  of  it, thirty  mouths  questioning  where he  came from,  whispering about his looks. He scanned the room and spotted a girl who was seated at the back of the room.  No one was  talking to her.  No one seemed to  want to talk to her, and she seemed like she wanted to talk with no one. Correction: twenty-nine mouths moving.

“Class,” Miss Carson started. “This is Timothy Scott Adams. I hope all of you can help  him feel  welcome.”  Her head  turned to  Timothy. “Do you want to say anything to the class?”

He set his lips tighter and shook his head once.

“Okay. There is an empty seat at the back.” She said pointing. “Your teacher is Mister Simmons.”

He adjusted the strap of his  backpack  on  his  shoulder  and walked slowly to the seat beside the quiet girl.  He sat down  and she  shifted in the  other direction like being a foot away from  him wasn’t enough. His mouth was still closed grimly when Miss Carson left the room and Mister  Simmons  resumed  his  lesson,  not like  the other students who were still murmuring and passing notes when Mister Simmons’ back was turned.

 

Stephanie glanced  uneasily  at the  new student  who was  assigned to  seat beside her. The reason  why she had chosen to be seated at the back was because she didn’t want to be bothered by the other  students. At the  start of the year, she had to endure of talking to the new students who asked her unnecessary questions.  And  now that it was engraved in their  minds  that she  wanted to be  alone,  this… stranger comes  along and  had  to be assigned to sit beside her. Soon enough he would ask her questions again and again.  This clueless  stranger would  stare at her,  just like everybody  else,  when  he  would  ask  her something and she would  not answer  and turn  away. She  wished she  was home,  in her room holding  her paintbrush  and illustrate  the way  she looked  at the world. Everything ends… eventually.  She sighed  and the newcomer  turned his head  to her.  Here it comes. She  thought. He’s  going to  say something.  She closed  her eyes  and waited to hear him say something.  To her surprise  he was silent and when she opened her eyes his head was facing front. She narrowed her eyes but stared at the open notebook in front of her. What was he looking at?

 

Timothy stared at the scribbled  doodles on  his desk,  not meeting the eyes that he knew were  staring at him.  Even though  he was at  the back  of the  room  he knew  their built-in radar was  watching him.  He caught  parts of  their  conversations,  most of  them chattering  about  his  strange smokey  gray  eyes. He  didn’t  inherit  his  eye  color  from anybody.  None of  his relatives  had the same  eyes. He even used to think he wasn’t part of his family.  Even his reserved  attitude didn’t match the colorful manner of his parents. It didn’t  help though,  being the only child at home. It would have helped to have another sibling  to divert  his  parent’s  attention  from  himself.  He  was smart  and  independent, which helped  him in everything.  From the corner of his eye, he spotted a girl in the front row turning her  head around and  glancing at him. He paid no  attention and soon enough she was caught by the teacher.

“Miss Grant.” Mr. Simmons said.

The girl’s head snapped forward and the whole class turned to her.

“Yes, Sir?”

“What are we discussing today?”

She bit her lip and nervously glanced at her classmates who stared back at her. “Literature,” she paused. “Right?”

“Wrong.”  He  said  shaking  his  head. “We  were  discussing  grammar.  If  you weren’t so  busy gawking  at your fellow  buddies  in the  back seats  then  you  would’ve known the right answer.”

“Sorry, sir.”

Timothy  rolled his eyes  and shook his head.  How immature.  He watched  as the lessons grew  to an end  and the  class  was  dismissed  to  lunch.  The chairs  were  being dragged  again  and the chatter  grew louder.  The girl  beside him  quietly  stood  up  and gathered  her things.  She walked out  the door first  and he  stepped out  close behind. He watched as she blended in the crowd and then disappeared completely.

 

Stephanie walked out of the cafeteria and sat under her  reserved spot under a tree. No one went out during  breaks because they  were too busy wolfing down their food and talking too  loudly.  She couldn’t stand  the noise, including  the people,  inside.  She took out her  packed lunch from her bag and quietly ate it. A few minutes later, to her surprise, the cafeteria doors  opened and out walked  the new kid.  She froze,  trying to  act as  still as the tree  trunk she was  leaning on. Was he following her? He looked left and right and was satisfied  to see no one  there. He  sat on one of the  benches and took out a paper bag and started eating. She ate her food as fast as she could and cleaned her mess with as little noise as  possible and waited  for the bell to  ring. A few  seconds before the bell rang she stood up and  walked briskly to the cafeteria  doors. Out of the  corner of her eye, she saw him  stare  surprisingly at  her, his  head following  her  till  she  disappeared  through  the double  doors.  The  moment  she entered,  she was  greeted  by the  noisy  babble and the sweet  ring of the  lunch bell.  She  waited  for the  others to  file out  of the cafeteria then followed  the crowd to  her class. She sat down on her seat and rested her forehead on her hand. It covered her face, which  was the whole  idea, and watched as the class entered. It took a few minutes till the new boy went in and  sat quietly down beside her.  She opened her  notebook and  pretended to doodle. Finally,  she gave up pretending  and lowered her hand and  started to sketch something new to paint. She imagined everything, what colors it would have,  what shades  it would be.  The new teacher  went in and the class stood up and  greeted her.  She closed  her eyes  and  sighed  again.  One more hour, She reminded herself. One more hour and all this torture will be done for the day.

 

Timothy  watched  as the whole class filed out at the  end of the day.  He gathered his things slowly, waiting for  everyone to go  out. He walked out slowly and was startled by a shrill greeting. It was the girl who was staring at him this morning.

“Hey!” she said, bouncing up and down. “I’m Sophie. I don’t know if you saw me but I certainly saw you.”

Oh, God. Timothy thought. She’s flirting.

“What  school  did you  come from?  I’ve been  studying here  all my  life.  I think you’ll really  enjoy it  here. Maybe  we should hang out sometime, just you and me so we can get to know each other. I hope we can be  great friends. I like your eyes. Do you wear contacts? I’m going to  hang out  with some of my friends at the mall today. Do you want to come with m�"�"”

“Excuse me.” He  said cutting  her off.  He curtly  walked away  and felt  her eyes boring on his back.

“Jerk.” She muttered.

He rolled his eyes and searched for the library.  He walked down the hallway  and came to the door labeled “college library”.   He went in  and went  to the  librarian’s desk.

“Excuse me” he murmured. “Where is the art section?”

“Aisle B11.” She said and went back to alphabetically arranging the library cards.

“Thank you.” He said and turned around to search for the aisle.

The library was big and it took  him a while  to find the  right column.  He saw the wooden sign “B11” and  turned the corner. He almost bumped into some one and avoided the  collision just in  time, taking a  step back. He was surprised to find the quiet girl there with a book clutched  closely to her chest.  It was a book he knew well, a book filled with pictures of different paintings and sculptures.

“Sorry.” She whispered, and briskly  stepped out of  the way and walked past him.

He turned  just in  time to  see her  round the  corner  of the  bookshelf  and  again disappear.  What a strange creature.  He thought.  He turned  back to  the  bookshelf  and scanned the spines for a good book. It took him about  half an hour to find a good enough one then he went back to the librarian’s desk and set it on the desk.

“Can I have your library card please?” she said.

“Uh. I don’t have one. I just arrived. I’m new.” He said.

“In that case I’ll get you one.” She opened the drawer beside her and took out a stack of cards bound by a rubber band. She took one out and handed it to him.

“Put your name and year and the title of the book. Hand it to me once you’re finished.”

He followed her orders and headed out of the library. What were the odds that I would be meeting that strange girl here? The sky was darkening, so he headed out of the front doors and walked down the sidewalk. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he took it out of his pocket. He had got a text from his parents. They were in a nearby restaurant, so he headed down the sidewalk and looked for it. He entered and spotted his parents at a table behind the cashier which was in the middle of the room.

 

Stephanie paid the cashier and looked up just in time to hear the entrance bell ring which was hung up above the door. She saw the new boy enter and his eyes met hers. Her eyes widened and she froze. His face  was serious.  Was he  following her? Was he angry because she left so abruptly in the library? She watched as he walked closer to her. But as he  drew near she discovered  he wasn’t looking at her at all. He was looking at  someone above her shoulder. Good. She  thought. He didn’t notice me. Just stay still and he’ll walk past. She  stood still  but it didn’t work.  His eyes shifted  to whoever was behind  her and landed  square on  her eyes.  He stopped  walking  and  stared  at  her.  He’s  staring.  She thought. He blinked and  composed himself then walked towards her, hands in his pocket.

“Hi.” He said.

She nervously nodded a greeting.

“If we keep bumping into each other like this we might as well introduce our-selves. I’m Timothy.”

“Stephanie.” She said.

“Nice to meet you.” He said holding out his hand.

She shyly took it and shook it once.

“Here’s your order, ma’am.” The cashier said, setting a plastic bag on the counter.

“I have to go.” Stephanie said to Timothy.

“Of course. See you tomorrow.” he nodded and walked past her.

She turned and saw him near a table where a couple was seated, and then she took the plastic bag and walked out of the restaurant.

 

“Hey.” Timothy said, greeting his parents.

“Hi, Timmy.” His mother said, patting the seat beside her. He sat down. “Who was that young woman you were just talking to?”

“She’s my seatmate.” He answered.

“She looked like a nice girl.”

“Why didn’t you invite her for dinner?” his father asked.

“Why would I invite a total stranger to dinner?”

“Do you know her name?” his mother asked.

“Stephanie.” He said, pausing to think. The name was common, but the person was different. “Her name is Stephanie.”

“That’s a nice name.” his mom said.

“Well, it seems she’s not a total stranger after all.” His dad said. “You know her name.”

He bewilderedly looked at his father.

“What?” his father said. “I asked your mother out the moment I met her, and look how we are now.”

“She’s not that type of person.”

“How do you know? I thought she was a total stranger?”

“I just know.” He answered.

“You psychic?”

“Do you want to order?” his mother asked.

“No.” he said. “I’m not hungry.”

Oh, God. He thought. I can’t believe it. They’re acting like nothing’s happened.

 

Stephanie slipped her  house key  in the  lock and  turned it.  She opened the door, wearing  her backpack  and take-out  dinner  in hand.  She closed the door behind her and walked  to the  kitchen where  she found her  father on the  same chair she had left him on this morning but this time he had a beer in hand.

“You’re home  early.  I brought us dinner.” She said. She set the food on the table and got her own Styrofoam container with her very own dinner. She got a glass and filled it with juice then headed upstairs. She  didn’t eat  together with  her father  anymore.  She hadn’t  done it for the  past three years. She  didn’t know if her  father noticed it, but if he did he certainly didn’t do anything about it.

Her room was big,  big enough to fit in all her artistic materials. All her paints, the canvases, the  easels were scattered  around. Her  paintbrushes and sponges were in a box under  her  bed.  Her  paintings were  hung on the  wall. All  her best  ones were there, the others  that were okay were in one corner of her room. She flopped on her bed and started to eat. It was strange  to bump into that new boy thrice today. She thought. It was more of frightening than strange.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A very strong opening chapter. I like the way you allow the character to have reason and purpose. The story got stronger with each added mystery and questions. You have my attention. I will come back and read the rest of this entertaining story tonight. A excellent chapter.
Coyote

[clairvoyantmars]

here in this chapter i introduce the two interesting and dark characters. i also explain Steph's dark secret, and subtly hint about Tim's dark past.