WRITER IN THE DARK , neil perry

01

NOVEMBER 1959

amélie sat quietly on her friend chris' couch, holding her bag close to her. the strong scent of alcohol filled her nostrils as she inhaled. tonight was one of the only nights her father had been present for weeks, and she missed it for some dumb party. she'd been wanting to visit him, but he worked crazy hours and was always away. amélie was so grateful for him and all he did for her. despite his drinking problem and his suppressed rage, he really cared about amé. after her mother took off to france when amé was 6, without her and her dad, they never heard anything from her again. she'd been an alcoholic, too. her dad suspected that she was probably dead, but amélie claimed they still had hope.

she attended aurela academy, basically the sister school to the infamous welton academy. her dad has serious doubts about sending her there, because he took notice in how welton was almost 5 blocks away, and how he wanted amé to succeed in life. her mom insisted she went, because when she was amélie's age she attended aurela and it changed her life. that was two months before she left.

she sat awkwardly until an obviously drunk guy came and sat right next to her. she tried to glance at him secretly, but he noticed right away.

"knox overstreet." he said, pinching the bridge of his nose in pain. he stuck out a hand to amélie, which she politely declined.

"oh. amélie laurent." she replied awkwardly. she hated the idea of some random drunk guy talking to her, but here she was. she should've never came to this party.

"are you french or something?" knox asked, evidently trying to make conversation. her dad was tourist there, but then met amé's mom and they had her.

"yeah. you can tell." she chuckled. her voice still had a hint of a french accent in her voice, despite being fluent in english and basically growing up surrounded by people with american accents.

"do you go to ridgeway?" knox asked again, amé hoping that he'd eventually notice her disinterest in him and the conversation so he'd eventually stop trying to make conversation with him.

"oh, no. aurela." she responded, brushing her fingers through her hair. ridgeway was the public high school that chris went to.

"i go to hell-ton." he chuckled. he was quite charming.

amé smiled, and looked at knox in shock."is that really what they call it?"

"yeah, kinda." he grinned. very charming.

"gosh. i can't imagine calling my school that. i'd get in so much trouble." amélie sighed. she quickly realized she was oversharing. i mean, this was the most attention she got in months. she quickly changed the subject. "i can't complain about aurela. i really want to be a writer."

"like poetry?"

amé shrugged. "somewhat, yeah." she was into austen, dickinson, and the brontë sisters. mainly female poets struck her interest.

"me and my friends have a club, like a poetry club. you should come to one of our meetings." knox responded shortly. amé sunk into her seat as she considered it. it was obviously going to be a simple no, but she wanted to make him think she was actually considering it. even though she was quite lonely, she liked it that way.

"i'm not sure.." she began, before getting cut off. she was insecure about her writing.

"i mean, you're a writer, right?" knox asked eagerly.

amé frowned silently. "i'm trying to be one. not like it'll ever happen." she was supposed to become a nurse.

"great. so come to our meeting." knox was being pushy. drunk pushy. amé just wanted to get home and read.

"i really don't think i can-" she continued, before stopping. she saw the eagerness in knox's face as she talked. she felt bad. he seemed nice enough, she was just afraid the strong scent of alcohol he reeked of. she sighed. she did need to get out more. jane austen could wait.

"i don't think i can tonight. not that you'd be meeting tonight, because you're at this party." she quickly saved, putting a smile on knox's face. he was drunk, there was no way he would remember her.

she pulled out her notebook from her bag, and ripped out a tiny slip of paper. she scribbled the number he could reach her at down, and handed it to him. "here." she silently grumbled.

"i'll call you." she hoped he didn't, and would lose her number before he got the chance.