Just the Start. (The Clovers series: Book 1)

Chapter 1

"No," the answer came clear and resolute, shattering any hope within me.

"Why not?" I questioned silently, trying not to sound hysterical.

"Look, I can get you new books instead. You have always wanted the new book right? The one just published," she tried to change the subject but I refused to let it slide.

"It's not about that mum, I'm old enough to make my own friends and spent time with them. What you're doing, it's not fair to me..." I gripped the edge of the couch as I spoke, as though it would give them the strength to continue this conversation. I have never been out with anyone else other than my mother. Not even to any educational trip organized by the school as a class. My mother would take me there personally. It has to be with her and only her.

"I said no. Anything else but that," she set her jaw in a firm line.

I chewed the insides of my cheeks before I questioned, "At least tell me why? Give me the reason why I can't live like any other sixteen-year-old."

"You're different from them," she injected.

"How different?" I knew what I'm doing was escalating the tension between us but I felt the need to know. I deserved to know. She stared blankly ahead, showing no intention of giving me an answer.

"Mum please," I insisted, the last of my patience ebbing away as time passed.

"You don't need to know," she turned away from me stubbornly.

Pent up frustration and anger rushed to the surface and I stood up. "Is it because of dad? Is it because he's dead and that's why I'm different?" I cried out in utter frustration, all rigors thrown out of the window.

What happened next was too quick for me to process. Every part of me burnt. I'm not sure which burnt more though-my left cheek, my internal emotions or my eyes which were stinging with hot tears.

Her fury faltered as I blinked the tears away. "He..he's not dead!" she placed great emphasis on her last two words.

I turned away and stormed to my room, rather indignant. Not wanting any more confrontation, I bolted the door. I need to breathe. I dove into my bed, generating a squeak which annoyed me more than usual. Why can't she accept the fact that he's dead? I mean, he has never appeared before me before so he must be dead right?Would things come to this if he were still with us? Would everything be better? Why can't she just tell me the truth? I wiped at my cheeks angrily and stuck my earpiece in my ear, playing a random song from my ipod at full blast. Not loud. Definitely not loud enough. Even at full blast, it did little to tune out the thoughts in my head. I snatched the earpiece away and buried it under my pillow. With a thousand questions flooding through my head, I slipped into a dreamless slumber.

I woke up to the sound of metal gates. Sitting up groggily, I winced at my aching neck. I had dozed off in an awkward position, I realised. Just then, my phone vibrated and the screen lit up. Holding my phone with one hand, I read the text message from my mother more than once before the events rushed back to me.

"I went out for last-minute work. I'll be back at 10pm sharp. Let's have a good talk after that, once both of us have cooled down. I'll explain things to you, I promise."

Explain. The word loomed above everything else and I stared hungrily at it. I would get the answers to questions that have been bugging me for years tonight. I had to fight back the urge to request for my mother to come back right away. 'Ok' my fingers flew across the screen as I typed and hit the send button. Then, I placed my iPhone back on my bedside table and glanced up at the clock.

7:50. There's still plenty of time before my mother's return. I fished out my notebook from my bag with the intention of sketching. Sketching does wonders to me. It helped to take my mind off troubles momentarily. As I flipped the book open, a flash of silver caught my attention. I groaned. I had completely forgotten that I had wedged it between the pages of my notebook. I crushed the invitation card and lifted my hand to toss it into the small bin but my fingers refused to listen. They clung onto the piece of paper stubbornly. Stupid fingers. I uncrumpled the invitation card and smoothed it with my hands as best as I could. The masquerade party started at 7:10pm and it would end at 12:00am. I have about two hours. Two hours. I could always catch a glimpse of the masquerade party to see what it's like and return home before ten, the devil in my head suggested. My mother wouldn't know if I come back before she does right? Just a look will do, I promised myself. Without further hesitation, I threw my wardrobe open and picked out the first outfit that I saw.