"And suddenly you know: It's time to start something new and trust the magic of beginnings." Meister Eckhart
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Chapter I – First Day
Ordinarily I would have been thrilled to move to a beach house along the beautiful coast of North Carolina. Maybe a cute place to spend summer vacations away from our life in Bedford. Providence was where I was born, after all. It might have been nice getting to know my home town a few months out of the year.
I could see myself relaxing on the beach with a book and attempting to tan my pale skin. Learning how to cook the fish I could buy at the local markets. Maybe meeting a handsome stranger I would never see again once I returned to New York.
I mean, the latter was almost laughable. I had never really spoken more than three words to a cute boy in my life, and one had certainly never gone out of his way to speak to me.
I blended into the crowd at my high school in Bedford. I was one of seventeen hundred students. Nobody noticed me and I quite liked it that way. I was a good student, and I got good grades, and so I liked to keep my head down. I didn't bother myself with teenage drama, and I never had to worry about boyfriends.
Not that my mom would let me have one anyway.
But now that my mom's job had taken us to Providence, North Carolina, I was sure I was going to stick out like a sore thumb. How could I not with only five hundred students in the school.
And I was starting late. It was October, after all. If a teacher made me stand up the front of the class and spout fun facts about myself I was sure I would die of embarrassment.
Maybe I should think up some just in case.
My name is Sara. I'm a Virgo. Why would I bother with that? I don't believe in astrology.
"I got nothing," I sighed. I looked at myself in the mirror and wished that I knew which box my makeup was in. All I had was a crusty, old concealer that I had found in the bottom of my purse. I used it to cover my eye bags and the few red unmentionables that seemed to enjoy popping up right when I didn't want them to.
I ran my brush through my brown hair and when I realised it wasn't going to cooperate, I pulled it up into a messy bun. It was still quite warm in Providence, so I had dressed in a plain white t-shirt and some ripped skinny jeans.
After checking over myself one last time, and realising this was as good as it was going to get, I grabbed my book bag filled with all new supplies and left my barely unpacked room.
My mom had moved us into a really nice little house on the beach. It was just the right size for the two of us. It was newly remodelled, but still had the character and charm of wainscoting and hardwood floors.
My mom was in our little kitchen, pouring a green smoothie into a travel cup for her to take to work. Mom had been really young when my parents had had me. She was only twenty and my dad had been a couple of years older.
After he passed away in an accident when I was two, she moved us away from Providence to New York, where she completed college and medical school as a single mom, eventually settling us in Bedford.
My mom and I had a really special relationship. It had been just us for so long, and so we had learned to heavily rely on the other person. She relied on me most of the time. With her hectic work schedule, I helped to look after the house, the grocery shopping, and most importantly, myself.
If I had been a difficult child, I don't think my mom could have been as successful as she is.
My mom, Dr Amanda Bryant, is a paediatric oncologist. People travel from all over the country to have her treat their kids. Kids who are going through the fight of their lives. I honestly don't know how she does it. All I could really do to help her was reduce the stress she had of having a daughter at home by looking after myself.
"Hey, hon," my mom greeted me when she noticed me entering the kitchen. She smiled at me warmly as she screwed on the lid of her travel cup. Mom was dressed for work. It was her first day, too. She had been headhunted to a specialty cancer clinic about a half hour drive from here. She never talked numbers, but I was certain the salary had to be good to take us away from New York.
She was dressed in a plain, long sleeved t-shirt and leggings, and was no doubt going to change into scrubs when she got to the clinic. Her hair, the same brown colour as mine, was slicked back into a neat pony tail, and she had effortlessly applied a nice amount of makeup to her ageless skin. Clearly she hadn't misplaced her makeup bag in the move.
"Morning," I mumbled as I went over to the coffee pot and poured myself a cup. My mom then hugged me from behind and rubbed my upper arms comfortingly. She could sense my nerves. I turned around to look down on her. She was a couple of inches shorter than my five six.
"Sara, you have nothing to be nervous about," she promised, her green eyes looking upon me sympathetically. "So what it's a new school? You will get the same wonderful grades you always do, and I'm sure you'll make some great friends." Bless her, she was trying to be supportive. I knew she felt guilty for pulling me out of my old school. "I lived here for a lot longer than you when I was younger. I always liked this town. The kids here were nice."
We shall see.
"You look beautiful," she added earnestly, brushing some hair out of my eyes. "Now, come on. Chin up. I've got to get to work and you've got to get to school," she urged. "I'll have my cell on me all day. You have the number of the clinic and I've given all my phone numbers to the school already. But I'm sure you won't need them." Mom took my coffee from me and tipped it into another travel cup before handing me the keys to my 'Please don't hate me gift'.
I had to admit, it wasn't so bad driving down from New York in my own Jeep.
Mom kissed me on the cheek as she ushered me out the door. She locked it behind us and blew me a kiss as she backed out of the driveway in her silver Mercedes.
I took a deep breath as I climbed into my Jeep. It was black and all leather inside. It still smelled brand new. I forgot my nerves for a second as I started the engine. I plugged my phone into the AUX port and found a song to drown out my thoughts as I started my drive through the town.
Providence was a really small town. Much smaller than I was used to, though I was used to weekend trips into Manhattan and anythingwould seem smaller than the Big Apple.
There were several streets of houses like ours along the beach, and a main street of stores and businesses serviced them. As I drove down the main street I could see there was one of everything. A grocery story, a post office, a hair salon, a book store. Near the end of the street, and feeding directly out onto the beach was a diner. Sally's, it was called. I wondered if they were hiring.
I drover further inland, only ten minutes or so, and Providence began to seem a little more suburban. The houses were larger and secluded by trees. Providence High School appeared soon after. The school was on a huge, flat acreage, with its football stadium appearing to be the main attraction. The scoreboard looked new, and as I drove past, I could see that "Donated by the Eckhart Family" was printed below the scores.
"Home of the Mighty Vikings," I read as I pulled into the school driveway. Students were streaming into school, and I was following other cars, attempting to find my way to the student parking lot.
The school building looked quite weathered and dated, and it was obvious when looking at the football stadium where most of the budget went. I supposed if I wanted to make friends at this school then I would have to get into football.
I nabbed the first spot I could see and shut off the engine. Before getting out of the car, I double checked that I had everything in my book bag, knowing full well I had triple checked last night. When I no longer had any excuses, I got out of my car.
I felt like I was sweating bullets. What a way to make a first impression than with pit stains. I tried to put blinkers on as I made my way towards the main school building, following the crowd. The school office had to be in there.
But my blinkers were failing me. I could see that people had already started to notice me. People were staring, assessing me, and making their judgements. I seemed to attract eyes like a magnet as I sped towards the main building, a new pair on me each second that passed.
I felt embarrassed and self-conscious as I looked down, attempting to avoid any awkward eye-contact. I thanked God when I made it to the front door, and I practically pulled it off its hinges in an effort to get inside.
Not that inside was any better. I just found another hundred people to stare at me. Were new students this rare in Providence? I really wasn't fascinating. I wished that I had the courage to shout that out.
"I really am ordinary!" I felt like telling them. "I do my homework early and watch reruns on Friday nights instead of going to parties!"
Instead I turned right and followed the signs to the school office. There were two desks behind reception. One in front of the other. The lady at the back, Glenda, according to her nametag, was tapping away at her computer, while the lady at the front, Cherie, was on the phone. By the sounds of the conversation, she was talking to a parent about an absence.
She smiled at me when she noticed me, and was the first one to do so at this school. She held her finger up, indicating for me to wait a moment. I fidgeted with the zipper on my book bag as I did so.
When Cherie hung up the phone, she smiled at me kindly. "You must be Saraphine," she deduced. "You look just like your mother," she gushed. "Oh, Amanda was so pretty, and such a good student. I understand she's a doctor now."
It hadn't occurred to me that seeing as my mom had grown up here, she had in all likelihood attended this school.
Glenda abandoned her computer to stand with Cherie at the front desk. "Saraphine?" she gasped. "You're right, Cherie, she is justlike Amanda."
"Sara," I corrected awkwardly. "And yeah, my mom is a doctor. She works at the cancer clinic not far from here, in Newtown."
Cherie and Glenda exchanged a glance. "Well, Sara,welcome to Providence High," Cherie greeted warmly. She retrieved a packet from her desk and started to flip through it. "I've got here your class schedule, your school map, locker number and code, a cafeteria menu, school calendar, and a list of our extra-curricular activities. Are there any clubs you were thinking of joining? Never too early to start padding that resume for college."
Cherie handed the packet to me. "Uh, I hadn't thought," I replied. Joining clubs had not been in my plan to try to be anonymous at this school. But she was right. I needed more than just good grades to get into a good college. "I'll look over the information. Thank you," I said gratefully.
"Of course, dear," nodded Cherie. "Now, your first class is Spanish. I've asked Señora Gomez to send a student down to collect you and show you where you're going. Ah, here she is."
At that moment, a cheerful blonde entered the school office. She looked really excited to see me, and I immediately felt bad for being so sceptical about the students here.
"Saraphine?" she queried animatedly, her brown eyes darting over me.
"Sara," I corrected. Only my mom called me Saraphine, and only when she was mad, which was hardly ever.
The blonde grinned happily before pulling me into a surprise hug. "Oh, Sara! I am so glad to meet you!"
I hugged her back, startled. I had not been expecting this greeting. "Same here," I managed to say.
"Go on now, Cece. You don't want to be late," urged Cherie.
Cece grimaced, though humorously. "Oh, of course not." To my surprise, Cece took my hand and dragged me from the office. She actually had a really firm grip. When were clear of the eyes and ears of the office ladies, Cece stopped. "I'm Cece Braverman," she introduced herself.
"Sara Bryant," I replied.
"I know!" she chirped happily. "Come on, Spanish awaits!"
I followed along behind Cece. Watching how she bounced, skipped and ran along the school corridors with ease reminded me of just how unfit I was. Perhaps track was one of the extra-curriculars I should investigate.
Cece did look really fit, though. Even though she was small, perhaps five four or so, she was toned, muscular, and her legs were defined and on show as she wore a pair of super cute denim shorts. Perhaps I ought to ask her what gym she went to. I was slender, but weak as anything.
Cece brought us to a numbered classroom in a sea of doors that looked identical. She opened the door to a low hum of noise which quickly silenced as soon as I walked in.
"Señora Gomez, this is Sara," introduced Cece.
I could barely register was Señora Gomez said in response. All I could take in was the fact that I had twenty-two pairs of eyes on me, appraising me. I had never been the new kid before. Were we always this interesting?
"Welcome, Sara. Please, tell us all a little about yourself," beckoned Señora Gomez.
Crap. I paled. I did practice this. I searched my brain for fun facts but was coming up with nothing.
Cece, bless her, seemed to sense my terror. "You're from New York, right?"
"Yeah," I stammered, nodding.
"Have you been to Manhattan?" she continued, winking at me.
I relaxed a little. Cece had my back. "Yeah, loads of times."
This seemed to get the class talking, and their eyes off of me momentarily.
"Alright, alright, settle down," called out Señora Gomez. "We have a lot to get through and we're already a quarter of the way into the hour."
Cece led me to a table down the back of the classroom and we sat down next to each other. I dumped my book bag and my information packet underneath the table. I would need to locate my locker soon. I would ask Cece to show me.
"Thank you," I said to her gratefully. "I'm not quick on my feet."
Cece laughed. "Lucky for you, I am." She winked again. As she slouched down in her chair to begin listening to the lesson, her tank top shifted, and it was then that I noticed a tattoo on Cece's chest.
It was unlike anything I had ever seen. The ink was white. The writing was fine, so fine that it was hard to believe an artist had such control to ink such text. But it spelled out a word: Jamie.
"I love your tattoo," I remarked without thinking, not realising that at this moment I looked as though I was staring at her breasts.
Cece looked down and smiled. "Thanks. I got it a few months ago."
I knew my mom would kill me if I ever got a tattoo, but seeing such fine work was astonishing. Maybe just for future reference. "Where did you get it?" I asked.
Cece frowned. "I forget where," she replied. "Jamie and I were kind of out of it. We found a random place. I don't remember the name."
"Oh," was all I said in reply. I said nothing further. I then tuned into Señora Gomez's lesson.
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I wrote this book about a year ago. It was an idea I had that wouldn't go away. I thought I would write a few pages. I ended up writing 239!!!!
So please, let me know if you're intrigued, as I know this is something completely different for me.
- I don't write in the first person! This was new, and I enjoyed it!!
- I don't write in the present day! Also new, and also enjoyed it!!
If you like this chapter, please comment and let me know. I will post the next chapter tomorrow morning when I wake up. I'll check the comments and the general response. I'm actually nervous because I know a lot of people have followed me for my historical novels and I'm hoping those people aren't mad.
I am in NO WAY giving up historical writing! I will endeavour to get back to Have Patience as soon as I can. As it's the first book in a long time I haven't been able to write with quick succession I've fallen out of love with it a little bit. I know how I want it to end, it's just hard getting there.
I still have heaps of other ideas for historical novels that I want to get to as well.
But as I am a full time teacher now, my students monopolise pretty much all of my time - which I love! But I have no energy at the end of the day.
Anyway, I've missed you guys. I soooo appreciate how patient you have been. When I was a reader on this site (can't really anymore booo hooo!!), I used to hate when writer's took ages to update books and I'd be thinking "HOW HARD IS IT TO WRITE A BLOODY CHAPTER!!"
Well, now I've seen the other side, it's hard!! If you're like me, and you only want to show quality work, it's hard when you're lacking motivation for a particular story. And with this one, when you have the motivation and inspiration, the work just BLEEDS out of you.
Vote and comment - please tell me what you think!
I recently found this book on my laptop and I binge read the whole thing as if I hadn't written it. I really hope you like it!!
Xxxx