5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

W hen I woke up the next morning, I turned my head to the side and studied the floor of my closet. Not for any specific reason, something just caught my eye. It was the blue book spine that sparked a memory. I went to the closet and picked up the old story book my mother had made for me, wherein she had written down her own versions of many well-known fairy tales. She told me time and time again that hers were the true stories. I touched the cover, a fabric cover with nothing on it. I cracked the book open and touched the swirls of my mother's cursive. She had titled each story. I smiled, and I flipped through the pages and stopped at her tale of Cinderella. That story had always been my favorite.

"And their souls sang for one another–for what they had was true love–a beautiful soul song."

I pressed my fingers against the words and stopped at another word– Solalune . It was the name of the made-up kingdom my mother had said was Cinderella's; of course, that was after she had fallen in love with the prince of their enemy's kingdom. Those two kingdoms, eventually, combined. I smiled, remembering the story and the hours I had spent listening to her retell it. I had loved the tales of Terra, a magical land where fairytales and happily ever afters existed. It had been so long since I read the stories, but I remembered the soul songs. It always fascinated me, to be so connected to another person would be amazing.

That was a perfect way to describe how I felt for Shad. I was obviously influenced by another book, not just the vampire one. But this book of fairy tales had influenced my very being, instilling within me a belief and desire for seeing things in a magical way. Maybe it was a little crazy, but it made me happy.

Right then, I felt so close to my mom as I traced her words with my fingers, thinking about her stories. It also made sense, then, why I had made up a little melody for Shad: I was making my childhood dreams come true, unintentionally. I smiled and closed the book, putting it beside the letters from my parents. I had no idea what to do about my strange feelings and reactions toward Shad, but I was interested in exploring them further. Could I have my own happy ending?

I spent more time in the attic that week. I only had three boxes left. I pulled out my mother's wedding dress and admired the lace and silk. When the heat became too much, I had to abandon my parents' pasts. Mary offered to help me move the boxes downstairs, but I couldn't move them. I'd taken my father's books down, and Mary donated them. I still had their letters in my room, but I wasn't ready to move everything else. Everything else would stay up there.

After my morning in the attic, I needed to cool off. We had a pool I had yet to go into that summer, so I decided it was overdue.

I hurried down the attic stairs and into my bedroom. When I opened my dresser drawer, I gasped when I saw the lavender flower I'd of course saved from Shad, lying there, on top of my swimsuits—which was odd because I distinctly remembered laying it on the counter in the bathroom. I walked to my bathroom and peered at the counter. I saw two dried up, shriveled leaves there. I frowned, confused. Maybe Mary moved it. But why would she? And why would she put it in my drawer?

Vampires–fae–pixies? No. Stop that. Your life is not a fantasy novel.

I decided that I must have moved it there when I was changing earlier and forgot because, let's be honest, I was a bit off. I shook my head and picked up the dried-out rose. I smiled at it and wondered if I would see him soon, or not —Shad, my incredibly hot neighbor who had a hobby of buying roses. I hoped he was in the same grade as I was or that he would attend the same school, at least. He would be going to the same school, I assumed, because he lived directly across the street, and doesn't that mean we are in the same school boundaries or something? I thought. Unless he was enrolled in a private school. He did wear what I thought looked like a prep school uniform–khaki pants, and a button down shirt the last two times I saw him. Maybe he was wealthy and just dressed like that.

Is that how wealthy people dress?

Vampires dress like that–No. Stop it. I nipped my stupid thought in the bud. I should never read again –it obviously influenced me too much.

He could not be wealthy anyway. Because if he was wealthy, he wouldn't be living across the street from my average house. And if he was a vampire he'd have some mansion in the woods with guards. I shook my head and touched a finger to a lavender petal for a moment; then I refocused on my task: pool . Yes, I did need a swim.

Okay, I can do this, I told myself. Be normal, Emma. You need to find a bathing suit. Do normal people give themselves pep talks? Do normal people talk to themselves in general? I decided to avoid getting into that. I was afraid of the answer. I shook my head to clear it and placed the flower on top of my dresser, taking a mental picture of it sitting there.

I had three swimsuits. One was a solid black one-piece that had seen better days. One was bright purple with hot pink flowers on it—a two piece, but conservative. The last one was a green, palm leaf print one-piece with a white background. It was my favorite. I had purchased it for school with my mom the year before. Physical Education in school required a few months of swimming. I loved being in the water, and I also loved the feeling of floating and just being .

Closing my drawer, I walked into my bathroom and stripped down. I pulled my swimsuit on and applied plenty of sunblock because, unfortunately, my skin hated the sun. My mom was fair-skinned, and I was the same as her. My hair was a dark blond; my mom often told me that I had golden hair, but it wasn't anything near the color of gold in my opinion. I took after her in my appearance, or so I had been told: fair skin and light hair. It was in my eyes where I took after my father. I had the same bright, emerald green eyes that he had. I gulped, trying to shake that thought away before it could take root and grow, sprouting into an image of that awful night I'd tried so hard to forget.I rushed from my room and down the stairs, grabbing a towel from the linen closet on my way.

Mary was gone all day. It was her full day at the flower shop. She had three employees, including me, and she liked to work half-days every day. On Fridays, she worked the entire day, open to close. I was part grateful and part annoyed that she had taken more time off to be with me. She acted like I was a little bubble that would burst at any moment. I had already lived the nightmare that was my life. I survived most of the summer already. I had my good days, and I had my bad days, but really, all in all, I was feeling better. Time was helping.

And Shad.

I walked out the side door and onto the cement patio. I looked around as I laid my towel down on the hot ground. I walked to the pool's edge and looked at my reflection in the water. I saw myself shift in the slowly moving ripples. I reached down to touch the cool, glassy surface when a hand grabbed my ankle and pulled me into the pool's depths. I sank and kicked up with my legs to catch my breath. I looked around, wiping water out of my eyes, fear tugging at my insides. Then I saw my best friend, Ryker, with his sandy blond hair and blue eyes, smirking at me.

"Ryker! You almost killed me!" I spat, splashing water into his smug face.

"I did not; you could never die from being pushed into a pool by me —lifeguard—remember?" he said very matter-of-factly. I had forgotten him telling me he'd been a lifeguard the previous summer at the community pool. Why he was so proud that he knew CPR, I could not tell you, but he was.

"I didn't know you were home," I blurted out with no humor in my tone.

"I just got home like an hour ago," he smiled. "You seem better, Emma." He smiled.

"I feel better. Maybe, I just needed space from you –" I said, splashing him in the face.

"Oh, really? That's rude," he said, splashing me back.

"Every day is a little more bearable," I shrugged.

"I hate that I was away for so long. My dad really wanted some quality time." Ryker pulled me into a hug, and his chin rested on the top of my head. He was warm and calming to me. I breathed in. He was home, and I was home, with him. I had forgotten that he made me feel that way. It was nice–like a perfectly warm bath.

"Where did you guys go again?"

"Camping," he said with a laugh.

"What! That's funny, you and camping," I said, smiling at him as his arms released me.

"Hey, I can camp. Seriously, I have skills," he retorted as he splashed water at me.

"I vaguely remember a boy who looked like you, trying to build a fire back here in the fire pit, and—" He swam to me and covered my mouth.

"Okay, okay, so I am not good at making fires; I get it. I was just a bit rusty." His hand, pressing on my mouth and touching my lips, felt strange. I looked into his gray-blue eyes; they had always been beautiful, like the ocean after a storm, or the sky on a partly cloudy day—such a beautiful, unworldly blue. But they were not warm and golden like the sun shining in my dark world and pulling me from despair.

He was my best friend, and he'd always been a constant as long as I could remember. But, he had left during the time I needed him the most—that summer. I was disappointed, but knew he couldn't stop his life just because my parents—I stopped that train of thought slammed on those breaks really hard.

His eyes looked at my lips after his fingers released my mouth. I cleared my throat and pulled away. I was happy to see my best friend again, finally, but I didn't want to be close to him like I wanted to be close to Shad. That feeling–desire, or want, made me feel ashamed. I shook my strange feelings aside.

"I came out here for a swim, so if you don't mind," I said, then dove under the water, still hating that I had that feeling of needing to escape him.

That night, I tossed and turned in a fitful sleep for the first time in a month.