Amanda woke up in cold sweat. The haunting visions, which have stopped three spring ago, have come back. She could see faces, hear conversations, and arguments all as though through a veil. As though something menacing was obstructing her view, preventing her to see clearly. She could never remember the pictures, but she always remembered the feeling. The uneasy pit in her stomach. Somehow she just knew that something out there was looking for her. Or maybe it was just that slushy she had before she went to bed last night. She shrugged these thoughts away, as she lazily crawled out of bed. The numerals on her phone were staring at her in disapproval. Amanda was late to school, again.
A loud yawn filled the air as she walked down the stairs. She could already hear the annoying music that her mom has put on, it was Queen's "Barcelona!". Amanda felt that it was how her mom punished her for being late to school every day. Amanda just couldn’t help it, she loved to sleep in. On her way to the kitchen she yelled “I am up, mum!”. The blasted music was muted down just a little bit. Her mom had mercy, after all. Amanda gulped down her breakfast, smeared on some chapstick, and was ready to head out the door just when a sight of something out of place caught her eye. It was a blue striped scarf, with intricate silver thread woven into it. It was probably something new that her mom bought on her impulse mall trip. A grin spread across Amanda’s face, she snatched the scarf and hurried out the door and onto her bicycle.
Smell of autumn engulfed the streets, where everyone seemed to hurry to one place or another. Even the neighbour’s dog was on its morning run, focused and too busy to notice the neighbour's cat that was happily clawing at the dog’s blanket. Ripe ruby apples decorated the trees, and some of the leafs were already painted auburn and orange. All seemed well in San Pierre.
Amanda took off her scarf. Yes, now it was hers. And stuffed it into her locker, right beside a battered copy of History textbook and some unfinished art projects. Crap! It was art class and she completely forgot about the art supplies. Oh well, she sighed, she’ll borrow some from Jimmy. Amanda shut the door and was ready to dart through the hallway and to the art class, as the anthem started to play. Anthem wasn’t much of a problem, but Mrs. Sharpe who stood in the hallway, piecing Amanda through the rims of her eyeglasses was. Amanda obediently stood still, muttering the words under her breath and staring at her shoes. Her ked’s were splattered with dirt specks, covering some of her pen doodles.
Sneaking into the art class so that Mrs. Turnbull didn’t notice wasn’t a problem at all. Amanda was greeted gingerly by that weird girl in class no one ever talks to,
“Hey!”, she whispered, “Jimmy is not here today, so I will be your art buddy for today.”
Amanda sighed, the whole idea of buddies irritated her. She never liked team work and just preferred to do things by herself.
“Great, thanks.” Amanda smiled politely. That odd girl smiled back, displaying all of her teeth. Amanda tried to remember the girl’s name. They were introduced to each other just when she joined the school. What was her name again? Meagan, Margo, Marla. Amanda went on guessing. Moira stared back at Amanda, adoring her. Amanda was everything she ever wanted to be: tall, blonde, and just enough socially adept to have a handful of friends. Amanda continued staring at Moira, trying to remember her name. Her gaze wondered to the girl’s shirt, a bedazzled pink tee that read in all caps “WE ARE ALL MERMAIDS ON THE INSIDE”. Amanda shuddered at the sight.
Where was Jimmy? Amanda wondered to herself. If he’s not here it means that she will also be missing a history buddy. She grinned at the thought, there were only ten kids in her history class and Mr. Brom wasn’t a fan of the school’s buddy system. He also did not like disorder or change, so he probably will just let Amanda be, sitting by herself. Amanda turned to look at the clock, it was round, boring, and hung slanted on the wall alongside Mrs. Turnbull’s favourite students’ projects. Amanda’s drawings did not decorate this wall. Why is it that mom had to enrol her into this special art program, this was beyond her. The clock went on ticking and the time dragging.
After two long art periods, and a five minute break — insufficient to do anything but get to the next class, Amanda was late to history class. Well, that hair wouldn’t tame itself. And she had the worst hair day ever. She breathed in, ready for any yelling or punishment that may come from the ever-so-punctual Mr. Brom. The knob turned, the door creaked, she stepped in and… no yelling followed whatsoever. Instead, she was greeted with his nod and a gesture to take her seat. Amanda carefully sat down. She could feel the tension in the air, something felt very wrong and very strange. Did she just travel to an alternative universe, is he going to expel her, what the hay is going on. Mr. Brom’s voice interrupted Amanda’s trail of thought,
“How nice of you to join us Miss Finn.”
Amanda avoided eye contact and stared down at her desk, covered with her pen and marker markings; as Mr. Brom continued,
“Young Mr. Halphert is absent today, sick.” A sign of relief ran across Amanda’s face, Jimmy gets himself into trouble all the time. Sick is better than found stoned and detained, or even worse found picking locks of principe’s office. Something he did quite often, trying to impress Amanda with his lock picking skills that he just learnt from that youtube video he’s seen. Jimmy should seriously stop watching that rubbish.
“Miss Finn are you still with us?” Mr. Brom’s voice reached the young being, she momentarily looked at him with her hazel eyes.
“In his leave, you are assigned a new buddy, Joanne Styles.” What? Who is that? Rang in Amanda’s mind. Before she had the time to look around, a towering girl sat down by Amanda, briefly smiling at her. The girl looked really different with her brown hair in a boyish haircut. She also didn’t seem to be very friendly. And so the class resumed, Mr. Brom teaching all about the warlords, feudalism, and the good ole times.
The bell rang. Amanda couldn’t wait to get out into the halls and devour that sandwich that has been patiently waiting in her locker. Before she could leave the classroom Joanne obstructed her view,
“Hi, sorry I didn’t have the time to introduce myself and catch up.”
Amanda just stared at her confused.
“Would you mind to join us in the lunchroom?” Joanne asked.
“Us?” Amanda was lost.
“Yeah, me and my cousin. We just transferred here and it we’d love to grab a bite with you.”
“Yeah, sure.” Amanda almost greed but then changed her mind “Some other time maybe? I already have plans, sorry.”
“Sure.” Joanne didn’t seem impressed at all, or offended. She just walked away.
Amanda rushed over to her locker. 36-5-18. She turned and turned the combination, but it didn’t seem to unlock. “C’mon!” She tried one more time, and it failed. “Crap!” she yelled under her breath, kicking the locker with her foot.
“Do you need help?” A calm and gentle voice reached her.
“Sorry?” Amanda turned around, to be struck by a vision of a blue-eyed boy with a messy mop of mahogany hair. His leather jacket a bit worn. He looked down and then up at her, half-smiling. “That is my locker, you know.”
“What? No, this is mine.” Amanda retorted, still somewhat shocked. Gawd, he was dreamy. Just like out of the movie. She tried to clear her head of all the silly thoughts that were trying to invade her mind.
“I am maybe new, but I am pretty sure that this is my locker. One o three.”
“No, this is one o two.”
The boy just continued to looked intently at her, slightly studying the girl before him. Half-smiling and not saying anything.
Amanda started to feel that she’s about to blush. What the fizz A? Keep yourself together. She could hear Jimmy’s voice inside her head. Ha ha, he was always the perfect person to bring her back to her normal self. She looked up at the locker, the painted over blue numerals read “103”. Amanda turned a shade of pink “I am sorry”, she blurted in the direction of the boy. She did not like being wrong. Ever.
He just continued to smiles back “No worries. My name is Harry.” He extended his hand.
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a/n
Thanks for reading the 1st chapter! Please leave your comments and feedback below. I welcome all sorts of citicism and help. Thanks so much and I hope you'll enjoy the 2nd chapter. I'll post it next week.
xoxo,
Wright