Secret Jewel of the Ocean

Chapter 15

School was starting already.

I didn’t know what to do. At the end of every summer, Jewel and I always have had a sleepover to enjoy our last nights before school started. We’d dance to crazy music, sing our hearts out, eat too much, stay up all night making pointless videos of our night, take adventures outside, and much more. It was always my favorite night or every year.

But I didn’t have that anymore.

Because I didn’t have Jewel anymore.

“Good morning, sweetie,” my mother greeted me as I miserably took a seat at the counter. I looked horrible - my hair was equivalent to rat’s nest, my face was pale and blotchy, my eyes were puffy, and I was still in my pajamas (a big sweatshirt and basketball shorts). And I only had a half hour before the bus picked me up - without Jewel - for my first day of Junior year. Without Jewel.

My mom was filling up a mug of coffee for me, adding cream and sugar to my delight as she had memorized when my daddy walked into the kitchen, backpack slung over his shoulder, wearing cargo pants and a polo for work. He took his last sips of coffee before pouring out the remainder of it in the sink. “Gotta go. Have a great day, ladies.” He went over to my mother and gave her a kiss goodbye, then offered me a smile of sympathy and strength and kissed me on the cheek before heading out the front door.

I sighed, thousands of depressing thoughts whirling throughout my mind like the hurricane they kept showing on the weather channel. What was the name, Joel? Hurricane Joel? Whatever it was, I was surprised that the weather channel hadn’t sent me a personal warning about Hurricane Joel making its visit to my mind. “What’s wrong, honey?” my mom asked, as if not to have a clue of what I was about to face. A day - scratch that, a year - full of questions about Jewel, compassion towards me because of Jewel, and everything in between - without Jewel. I rested my head on the counter and hid my face in my arms like a little girl, feeling so small and helpless.

Days and days dragged on and on. School was worse than I thought it would be. In class, I would continuously think back to the night of the storm that took my best friend’s life; the way the ocean was threatening and vicious in the darkness. And as I did so, my teachers would call me out, in front of everyone, and of course I never had a clue what was going on in the classes, so I would just shake my head every time and stare at my desk, praying that I would be left alone.

In between classes, in the hallways, I would have random people I never even saw approach me. Some would tell me that they’re sorry for my loss while others would ask a million questions about the mystery of Jewel’s death. One kid was so straightforward about the incident that I almost started a fight in the middle of my lunchroom.

I had been sitting with a few girls I was friendly with the year before since they were nice enough to take me in when a boy named Duke sauntered up to the table and took a seat next to me. I had tried ignoring him by focusing on my food that was barely touched, but he placed his arm around me and began making the shallowest comments I have ever heard. “So I heard about Jewel. I can’t believe she’s dead. It’s so weird, you know? One second she’s here, the next she’s just gone. Were you there when it happened? Like…did you actually see her die? Was there a lot of blood? I heard the whole thing is a mystery. Is that true? Like that people were searching for her and everything. But they gave up because obviously she’s dead by now, you know? No hope left inside of anybody. She’s a goner. Pretty sad, if you ask me.”

I began to fume. I was literally shaking with anger at every word that came out of Duke’s mouth, but one of the girls I was sitting with had jumped into the conversation before I could tackle Duke to the floor. She told him off well, but he’s lucky I didn’t get a hold of him.

He would have been the goner.



I didn’t hang out with anyone. Sure, I would get a few phone calls and invites by a some girls at school; I even got asked out by a cute boy in my math class. But I had no desire to leave my room for any reason.

Travis had even attempted to get in tough with me. He called, but I couldn’t find the strength to answer. I let him drift to voicemail along with the rest of my callers, and didn’t bother checking what he had to say.

My parents were really worried about me. They would come upstairs every night as I faked being asleep to check on me, and every time I heard them mention how concerned they were about my depression. They’d drain on and on about how all I do is sit at home and lock myself in my room, which is unhealthy for anyone to do so.

And eventually, they had a plan. A plan that I highly disapproved of, but had no choice to accept.

Instead of going to lunch, every Tuesday and Thursday I was forced to talk to my school counselor. Apparently my parents figured that I would just open up my thoughts to this random lady whom I had never met before, just like that.

They figured wrong.

I wouldn’t budge. The first day I walked into Ms. Kendleton’s office, I took a seat in the chair across from her desk and kept my eyes glued to my feet. “Hi, sweetie. You must be April.”

I didn’t confirm. I didn’t even nod.

Ms. Kendleton was very pretty in a simple kind of way. She had short blonde hair and deep brown eyes, and very soft features. She wore glasses, but she didn’t look like a nerd in any way. I guessed that she was about thirty-years-old, but who knows. I hadn’t looked at her long enough to make a decent supposition.

“Well…” she had continued on that very first day. “I know that you are hurting right now, and you really don’t want to talk to anyone at all, especially someone you barely know, but I think it’s in your best interest to try and help yourself out here a bit. You can have all the time you’d like, but please consider talking to me.”

She was right: I didn't want to talk to anyone.



Before I knew it, a long school year of loneliness, darkness, and desperation had finally come to a halt, and summer was only a few days away. I couldn’t believe what I had done for the past months: nothing. I had done NOTHING. I had talked to NO ONE. Ms. Kendleton had tried so hard to get me to speak to her - she even left me her cell phone number if I ever wanted to chat, and I stuffed it in my pocket just to make her shut up and leave me alone, though I knew she really did have the right intentions.

People gave up on asking me places, and I didn’t care.

My parents dragged me out to family dinners, weekend trips, and more, but I never said more than a word to any of them.

With every day that passed, I thought I would have gotten better, but I had only gotten worse. And one night when I was alone in my room, my dad came barging in. “We need to talk,” he told me sternly. I shook my head. I didn’t wanna talk. I just wanted to sleep. “No, we’re talking.”

And so we talked - he talked - about how he understand how unfortunate and unfair life can be at times, but that I can’t just give up. That I’m stronger than that. But I didn’t even look at him as he spoke, and he grew angrier and angrier with every word. He started getting so worked up that he exploded on me with such intensity, and I felt so targeted that I burst into tears on the spot.

My mom, on the other hand, began to keep to herself about things. She'd take early nights or she'd drive around all day aimlessly by herself.

Everything was falling apart, and I was bringing down other people with me.  But I couldn’t help myself. I felt so weak; so torn apart.

And after a whole school year of darkness, my parents decided to stick with their normal summer plans this year and take me back to where it all started; back to Blue Hill, Maine.