Witch-Hunt

1.

Dear Journal,

The summer vacation came and went in a blur. I almost can’t believe that I already have to go back. I can’t really say that I’m looking forward to it. I’ve been kind of unsocial this break and I don’t feel I’m up for learning yet. I’m almost afraid that I’ll turn up and everyone will have moved on from me. I really should start mentally preparing again. I think my Uncle Trent has started to worry about me. When he realized that I had to go back tomorrow, it seemed like he was looking forward to it…  I mean I won’t assume that I’ve been a burden on him, but I’ve certainly been lingering. I get the impression that I’m not cheerful enough anymore to catch up with any of my friends. Does that sound ridiculous? Because I spoke to Uncle Trent’s new girlfriend, Bethany, and she thinks that it’s normal to be feeling withdrawn after the accident. I really want to forget about it though. This year is going to be magical.  It has to be or I don’t know how I’m going to survive it.

Actually… There are more things at school I’m terrified of than things I’m looking forward too. For example, I can’t wait to see Brooke. Even though we’ve barely said a word to each other all summer she’s always going to be my best friend. The most we’ve spoken over the break is a few exchanged text messages. It’s mostly my fault though. She’s been inviting me to a bunch of outings but I’ve never gotten around to responding. I only just remembered now and I’m feeling pretty guilty about it. Whether Brooke is upset with me for ignoring her or not, she’s one of the only reasons I want to go back. Sometimes a girl really just needs a best friend. It’s especially important when you go through something like last year. People have stopped asking me about it and I prefer it that way. Life is a lot easier like that.

I feel like a hermit. I keep thinking that I want to go back to being exactly who I was and acting like nothing changed at all. I want to assure everyone that I’m still strong and confident. The truth is though… I’m not. I don’t think I ever really was. It was all an act for the sake of things as trivial as reputation and status quo. On the other hand, there’s a part of me that’s comfortable just being myself at home. No one knows what to do with me. One day during my first year of high school I simply stopped being bookish and reserved Haley. I became independent and opinionated Haley. I ditched my glasses for contact lenses and became known for giving exceptional advice and enjoying a good party. My grades dropped a bit as a result. My family said they hardly knew me. This summer they got the old Haley back...the real one. I sort of fear the transformation back again... I should really go shopping for some new clothes this afternoon. I have a lot of work to do if I’m going to slot in just as easily as I normally did. I am behind in everything. I don’t remember the last time someone told me some gossip from my school. What TV shows are popular at the moment? I should probably stay up tonight watching them. At least I’d have something to talk about tomorrow. Maybe I should just hope they won’t expect much of a girl who has just… no I promised I’d stop talking about that.  I can’t even stand to think about it. So I won’t. I’m going to shove it into the deepest, darkest corner of my mind. If someone asks, I’ll pretend I have no idea what they mean. If they knew how destroyed I am, it would be the end of me.

Morning had well and truly fell upon Bramble Shore. It was a pretty enough place to grow up in. It wasn’t the kind of settlement that had houses with well-manicured lawns and carved topiaries. Most of the residents lived on the beachfront and were host to great barbecues. Bramble Shore also boasted an array of exotic wildlife (ie. seagulls). It was the place for early morning swims and late-night seaside parties. The air possessed a constant smell of salt-water, that you could almost taste during the heavy afternoon breezes. The shores were lined with beach-attire, fishing and surfing shops. If you were lucky or wealthy enough to own a home directly opposite the beach you could be put into the town’s official records and have a strip of the shore named after you. It was a bustling tourist destination and to some people, it was the opportune place to live.