CHAPTER ONE
A SIMMERING CELESTIAL.
THE FIRST SONG I EVER performed in my seventeen years on this earth was 'I Wanna Dance' by Whitney Houston.
I could remember the crowd that day. Shadowy figures of men and women sat in front of me with their grins under their noses. The stage lights had dots appearing in my vision, cuddling me with its liveliness and sparks of spirit. I could point out my mother and father in the crowd. Cheering and smiling for the beautiful baby girl to use the talent the God gifted her with. My skin was bright and clear, reflecting the energy and joy I felt within that moment to be something. To mean something.
I was six years old at that time, and I truly believe that was the first time I've ever felt alive.
My love for music and singing never stopped that day. As soon as my parents saw the talent and skills that rested in me at a young age, they wanted to confirm my interests in singing. And only wanted to see if my new love was for life or if it was a new hobby. However, I was able to convince them that this was the start of something new. From that day on, they placed me in piano and vocal lessons that helped strengthen my qualities. From eight I could play the songs I wanted. Songs I heard on the radio, songs I heard during church on Sundays, and the best of it all – songs I never heard at all, but instead, heard in my mind during random moments.
And then I discovered I did have talent. I could siren a room with chords, but also siren them with my lyrics and words.
Singing to me was more than using your lips to mouth about love or pain, to me it was a lifestyle. My heart was full the moment I sang that song at six years old and from then on I believe I've known what genuine joy feels like.
High School began about seven years later. I had to learn about rival singers that try to knock you down every chance they get. I had to learn to still maintain my love, even if it gets hard when you don't have much support to hold you.
I walked in the three-story building at fourteen, not expecting people to flock their way towards me the way they did. I assume people saw my last name and my status and decided that I was gonna be the 'it' girl that year. People saw my beauty from my mother and my boldness from my father and it gave them a fusion they would have never dreamed of.
Athena Virginia St. James was that fusion. I was that glorious fusion.
"Okay everyone let's begin from the top," my chorus instructor states from the stage in the auditorium. A few students yawned in boredom and some groaned out loud from the repetitive nature of our teacher. She seemed to want everything to be perfect from the first verse to the chorus and to the bridge. If I hadn't been counting I would have assumed that it was the sixteenth time, but it was actually the fourteenth. I probably would've cared and been upset if I was them, but unlike them my personality is to strive for perfection–and I genuinely love what I'm doing.
Ms. Wilson's brown eyes meet my own, speaking to me through the depths of her sights to move forward. She knows I'm different amongst the sopranos–don't get me wrong we're all talented, but there's something special that she saw in me. She always heard my voice more and kept an ear out for it. It was the reason she usually encouraged me to sing out more before I gained my confidence. I also signal with my eyes that I wanted to remain in the back today. Something told me to keep to myself more. I shook my head and crossed my arms.
Her brown eyes rolled, noticing my change of welcomeness. She, instead of arguing any further, raised her arms to signify for the tenors to begin. As they initiated their carols, I could feel a deep rhythm stirring up within me. There was a phenomenon associated with tenors that not many have seen. They create the base within a song and bring the chorus together. And hearing them beam reminded me of a tenor that loved to harmonize with me months ago.
Terrance, a girl who I shared my soprano skills with, nudged me when it was our time to sing. Ms. Wilson raised a fist towards the tenors–signaling for the tenors to hold their voices. I could spot some of the altos grinning at the music being sung. We were a talented group, and many people assumed that chorus was a lame class until they heard the level gifts we all possess.
As we sing, my eyes close in love and my body tingles with excitement.
In a short summary, I was in love with Chorus class.
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Ophelia Harper was what you'd call a friend or a 'bestie' in most cases. However, she was more than that to me. She was a sister who kept the peace in my soul and held me when I needed her the most. Everyone in school knew there wasn't one without the other. Our love for each other stemmed from the common love of music that we share. Her skills in electric guitar and keeping me entertained matched with my talent for singing and being a little moody. Although many don't see my precious smile a lot (simply because I'm not close with anyone) Ophelia is that one person who causes my smiles. It's honestly gotten so bad to the point I can't help but smile even when I see her or hear her name.
All that she's done for me can't even be paid back or else I'd be broke. And I'm rich.
My shoes clicked against the glossy floors as I began my journey to my sister. I could imagine her curly afro that brushes against her pierced ears. She has this love for jewelry–or at least that's what she tells me. Both her ears are pierced in full and I still don't get how she's not sent away back to Ghana since she's the daughter of an immigrant parent.
Ophelia comes from a Colombian background from her father and a Ghanaian background from her mother. Her caramel skin showcased her acne-free face and her smooth features. Her light brown eyes were always bright and happy, smiling from glee or even just for waking up every morning. She was truly the sun in my life.
As I walked with my purse on my forearm, I could spot the looks that I got. Some of curiosity, some of envy, some of lust. I was beautiful of course, that I could never deny, but they also stared because of my lifestyle. I was popular, smart, captain of the cheer team, and rich. But for some reason they wondered why I wasn't such a mean bitch. Or maybe Regina George could be the better describing word. But that also came from their stereotypes of white girls in movies. I was raised by two parents who didn't have much, and they made it clear to show me the privilege I have. I still go back to my parents' homes from their younger ages, and I recognize the advantages.
Plus, I'd get my butt whooped.
I could feel my wig with highlights swish behind my back as I walked. I spotted Ophelia giggling with someone I haven't seen in a good amount of time. I'll confess, I haven't seen him and his signature dyed locks for a while actually, and while there was a time I counted him as one of my closest friends ever, I knew that things had changed.
Everything had changed.
Ophelia laughed and smiled and I read her lips that said something along the lines, "I missed you," and while it made sense since we haven't really interacted with the guys for months now, I felt anger rising up in my soul from seeing them together.
Because of his friend, my life and reputation was ruined in the school, and now I see my supposed 'sister' hanging with the enemy?
My body instantly backed up so both parties couldn't see me, and I knew I had to get him out of sight before the other two showed up–then it's game over. I bring out my phone and pull up Ophelia's contact, the bright light causing me to wince. I spotted her profile picture of us doing avocado masks and being at my house in my pajamas.
Catching my grin, I glare back at the picture and drag my head out from the corner like they do in Disney movies. Yeah, I'm not crazy. It's him.
I send a text and watch her reaction. She pulls out her phone from her pocket and opens our thread. I can see her cheeks reddening as she glances behind him and around her area to try and spot me. Got her. He follows her vision, trying to spot what could possibly have his friend in a panic mode, but she falsely reassures him about her having to meet up with someone. He visibly deflates, but I genuinely don't care. He and all his stupid friends deserve it.
As he walks away Ophelia releases a deep breath, spinning as she comes to the conclusion that I'm hiding behind the water fountain wall indent. She leans her hand against the red lockers and her hazel eyes meet my brown ones. "Seriously Thena?"
"It's Athena to you right now, Ophelia." I cross my arms after placing my phone in my purse. She scoffs, acting like I'm the one in the wrong and rolls her eyes.
"You're being childish, Thena," I know she says my nickname to try to piss me off. "He just came up to me and said hi. What was I supposed to do? Ignore him?" she asks rhetorically but she should already know that Athena St. James is already the queen of sarcasm.
"Well Ophelia, I would understand if it was just a 'hi' and 'bye' conversation. However, I saw giggling and what it looks like–a hint of a friendship. You can't tell me that's the first convo y'all have really had?"
She pauses. Pauses. "Well–"
"And if that's really the truth, then this whole conversation has been you trying to deflect the truth of you actually being friends with the same guy who had a helping hand in running our lives." I state, licking my lips when I feel sadness instead of anger.
"Thena–"
"Not to add the fact that I actually was right and you were trying to make me feel crazy for thinking it was a real conversation at the start," her lips tightened along with her silence, "So who's really being childish here, Ophelia?"
Ophelia takes a deep breath as her mood deflates. I feel a burst of guilt and sympathy for causing my best friend to simmer her happiness. All I've known about her is to be a joyful girl with a radiant smile, but seeing her befriend any of the guys that almost ruined us last semester, it was difficult to even imagine how a friend could do that.
Unlike her, I was receiving more of the threats. I had notes on my locker, I couldn't go to parties without being accused of being a horrible person, and while she was my shoulder to cry on, she's also fraternizing with the enemy. Now it has my thoughts rising, how long has this been going on? Has she been pouncing on him from the start?
"How long?" my voice wants to shiver but I clear my throat to strengthen my emotions. Of course Ophelia sees this however, I mean she is supposed to be my best friend, "How long have you been messing around with Emeka Njoku?"
Ophelia tucks a piece of hair behind her ears, "Just for about three weeks."
"Three weeks?!" I exclaim. Are you serious? She thinks saying 'just' will make it any less crazier? "The semester started over a month ago? So you didn't even wait for things to settle you–you just."
I stopped when I was stuttering.
There's a pregnant silence that occurs and for a moment it scares me. Ophelia and I are never silent, if she's cracking jokes I'm giggling with her. If I'm brooding beside her then we're brooding together.
Her soft voice rises up, "You know, there was a time where we were all happy, Thena." She closes her eyes and glances at me. "When you weren't angry and glaring at everyone. Where we were all friends, and you and Jude–"
"Don't bring up that asshole's name. Ever."
"Thena, there was a time where you called Emeka 'Em'. You don't ever think about it?"
Ophelia Harper belonged to my heart and soul as the closest person ever to me. But if she needed to get one thing, it was that our lives will never be intertwined with them. They tore our hearts in front of the schools and treated it as a cherry pie splinting amongst animals on a hot summer day.
"And which one of them ruined that, Ophelia?" I glared at her, ignoring her flinch, "Don't talk to me about them ever again. My opinions will never change."
I walked past her, hitting her shoulder with mine and shaking away the tears that came to my eyes.
Never let them see you cry, Athena,
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AUTHOR'S NOTE:
i hate it. the other chapters are better tho :)
ok in all honesty, i've been planning this book for months and yall know im a sucker for second chance stories! i really hate intro chapters tho bc they're so boring. i promise this book is a w you just gotta bare with me lol.
~ precious <3