Nightmare in Niceville

by Amberle Cianne

  Nightmare in Niceville

  by

  Amberle Cianne

  Nightmare in Niceville

  © 2011 Amberle Cianne. All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopying, or recording, except for the inclusion in a review, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  First edition.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Published in the U.S. by BQB Publishing Company

  www.bqbpublishing.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN 978-0-9831699-4-9 (p)

  ISBN 978-1-937084-42-4 (e)

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2011940348

  Cover painting by Michael Mustachio

  Book interior by Robin Krauss, Linden Design, www.lindendesign.biz

  Dedication

  I dedicate this book to my brother, Ryan A. Mustachio. He was a huge inspiration to me during this process, always pushing me along to get this done and to never quit on something that you love. Do what makes you happy in life, because in the end that’s all that really counts!

  I thank my mother Kristin and my father Mike for being so supportive of me in anything that I do. I thank all of my family and friends who have stuck with me for so long! And I thank you, the readers, for giving this book a chance!

  Enjoy!

  Contents

  1. Lily

  2. Lily

  3. A Man

  4. Lily

  5. A Man

  6. Emily

  7. Lily

  8. Lily

  9. Sarah

  10. Luke

  11. Angela

  12. Luke

  13. Emily

  14. Lily

  15. The Man

  16. Emily

  17. Sarah

  18. Lily

  19. Sarah

  20. Scott

  21. Lily

  22. Sarah

  23. Lily

  24. Lily

  25. Lily

  26. Lily

  27. Emily

  28. Lily

  Epilogue: Lily Two Years Later

  1

  Lily

  Niceville. A quiet and peaceful sanctuary, for some. If you walked down any given street, you would find green grass, freshly painted white fences, and yard ornaments—some tacky, some not. You would see kids playing in their grandparents’ yards and lazy dogs sleeping in the shade beneath the trees. People in love would ride their bikes through tunnels of giant weeping willows.

  But, there were neighborhoods that only had palm trees, which was where I lived. Just a cul-de-sac neighborhood where people mowed their lawns more than they breathed. Except us, of course— the Strykes. We were the rebels of the neighborhood, and every two weeks we got a cheery letter taped to our door saying how our yard looked like an eyesore. There were the three of us—me, my mom, and my younger sister Ashley. Why would we want to cut the grass? And clean up dog poop in the hot sun outside? And be picture perfect? Well, at least we were close to the beach.

  Niceville was a nice town, and of course there were a lot of friendly people. You couldn’t be mean or rude in a place that had the word “nice” in it. That would practically be breaking the law!

  All of us nice people were settled in Okaloosa County, located in the sunny state of Florida. I liked it in Florida: the beaches, the heat, it was all great. But this town, this city, this county, it was all too much. It seemed like we were living in a big, plastic bubble. Even though I was only a sophomore, I still looked forward to moving out and going to college. I would move far away from this odd little town. Very far away.

  I guess the only thing I liked about Niceville was the weather and the scenery. I wanted to get out. I wanted skyscrapers, and snow, and ice, and big TV screens in the streets, and taxis, and tons of strangers walking past you every day. Not this small, gossipy, stuck-up, full-of-rules little town. I wanted to blend in and be unrecognized. I didn’t want to be found by anyone from my past, not ever. New York sounded nice.

  I walked down the hallway of my school, Niceville High. AP Literature: the last class of the day had finally arrived. It was one of my favorite subjects along with art and history. I mostly read fiction novels and poetry. In this class, you didn’t have to be ashamed of reading or embarrassed about how much you knew about a book and sharing your opinions. Everyone could be equal here; most students could hold an intelligent conversation.

  I walked into the classroom and smiled at the teacher, Mrs. Varner. She had bright red frizzy hair, big round glasses, and she was very skinny and petite. She wasn’t too big on homework, so most people liked her.

  She smiled and greeted me. “Hello, Lily, how are you?”

  I replied, “Good, and you?”

  “I’m doing well, thank you,” she said, turning back to her papers scattered across the desk.

  “Lily!”

  I turned to see Emily, my best friend, waving at me with a huge smile on her face. We knew each other inside out and backwards. We had been friends since the summer before fifth grade. In my opinion, she was so much prettier than me. She had shoulder-length, blond, curly hair and big, baby blue eyes. She was perfect. She had deeply tanned skin with no blemishes, a gorgeous smile, shiny hair, and expensive clothes. Me? My long, straight, brown hair hung limply over my shoulders, though the color complimented my emerald-green eyes. My eyes were my best feature. Emily was so outgoing, and I was shy most of the time. She was curvy, and I was stick straight. I didn’t think I was unattractive, but she was just prettier.

  “Hey, guess what?!” she squealed with delight in her soprano voice.

  “What?” I asked, guessing that her high-pitched tone had something to do with a boy.

  “I heard from Rachel that Max likes you!”

  “Max, as in, Max Gareheart?” I asked, horrified.

  “Yeah!” She busted out laughing.

  “Nooo,” I groaned. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m pretty sure,” she said, giving me a Why did you even ask? look.

  “Why does he have to like me of all people?”

  Emily put her hands on her hips like a mother scolding her child, but she didn’t bother to hold back her laughter. “Because you’re pretty! Duh!”

  I rolled my eyes. The late bell rang, and we hurried to our seats.

  To be honest, Max Gareheart wasn’t necessarily unattractive. In fact, he was pretty good- looking. His skin was tan like Emily’s, and he had warm brown eyes that reminded me of melted chocolate. He was polite and always dressed like he was going somewhere important, but in reality, he probably just sat at home doing his algebra homework. His straight, white teeth gleamed when he smiled. But he just wasn’t my type, if I even had a type. I liked muscles with brains, not the other way around. And the guy had to be respectful. I guess I was picky that way, even though I’d never had a boyfriend. But in all honesty, Max wasn’t really anybody’s “type.” Emily liked the “bad boys,” and that was probably why she didn’t ask me if she could flirt with him. If a guy was interested in me, but I wasn’t interested back, sometimes Emily asked if she could flirt with them. I never minded, of course—I wasn’t exactly looking for a relationship. It just wasn’t on my list of priorities.

  Max had lived in Niceville his whole life, unlike myself. I had moved here in fifth grade. He was a “smarty-pants,” even in elementary school, and a lot of kids picked on him for that. His dad owned a huge company, and everyone wanted to be his friend. Throughout the years, Emily a
nd I had been nice to him all along, which was probably why he still talked to us on a regular basis. I practically grew up with him, so it was hard to think of Max as cute. Not impossible . . . just hard.

  The day dragged on like a slug on a hot day until lunch finally came around. I waited in line and avoided the pizza. I had made a vow in sixth grade to never eat school pizza again. Ever. I usually got PB&J or chips. I got chips today. PB&J always had too much P anyway.

  “Hey, Lily.”

  I turned around and saw Sarah smiling at me. She had shoulder-length, black-and-blond hair, and a few freckles on her round face. Her chin popped out a little, and her jawbone was very defined for a girl. She had large dimples even when she wasn’t smiling. Sarah had a very mature way about her. Her dark brown eyes were what gave it away. No matter what the emotion, they always had a steady seriousness to them. She usually wore brightly colored eye shadow. Today, it was purple to match her shirt and shoes. Even the small stud in her nose changed with her outfits.

  “Oh hey, Sarah. How are you?”

  “I’ve been good. You?”

  “I’ve been great.” I smiled.

  The corner of her mouth lifted as if to smile, but her eyes seemed to lose their sparkle. She smiled—if you could call it that—but she seemed so sad.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked.

  “Well . . . I’ve just been thinking a lot, and I guess I just want to say that I’ve missed you. Last year was fun.”

  “Oh . . . uh, well I . . . miss last year too . . . sometimes,” I stuttered. “Sorry, I’m not good with sensitive things. I’ll see you later, okay?”

  “Sure.” Her smile lifted on both sides this time.

  I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but I wanted more than anything to just go eat with my friends.

  Last year, Sarah and I had been in three classes together. This year, we had none, which was probably why she “missed me” so much. Last year, we talked often. We never got really close like Emily and I, but we did have conversations about family, pets, and other random things. Sarah didn’t have any siblings, but she had a dog named Brunson. After a while, I started feeling uncomfortable around her because she talked about her girlfriends, and then I felt like she had a crush on me, and well . . . I liked boys!

  I took my regular seat next to Emily, across from Angela and Luke and almost the entire football team. You could imagine why lunch would be fun . . . and loud. Tons of gross burps, dirty jokes, cuss words, things that girls might actually find funny, girls and their “hot status,” and tons of mini food fights. The only reason the team sat over here was because Luke, their captain, sat here. Also, Emily was extremely pretty and popular, and who wouldn’t want to sit next to her?

  Luke was very handsome, his face well-defined with light brown eyes. His chin jutted out, though it flattered him very well. Luke was pretty confusing to most people. Usually, I was good at figuring people out. At first glance, Luke seemed like a typical jock, but he was really a sweet and caring guy. He was a natural born leader, and loved at our school. He made our football team one of the greatest in the state. Our team didn’t bully the “underdogs,” and since the football team set the example for the rest of Niceville’s sports teams, the other teams didn’t bully either.

  Everybody loved Luke, but they loved Luke and Angela even more. As a couple, Luke and Angela were a complete contradiction. Luke was this football team captain macho dude, and Angela was this shy, sweet, and innocent girl. They had been together for three years and couldn’t be any more perfect together. I guess it was one of those “opposites attract” things. Luke had pulled her out of her shell a little, but she was still really shy.

  Angela wasn’t rude at all—ever—but she was pretty withdrawn in new and social situations. She wore thin glasses on her round, child-like face and had very fair skin. Spaced-out freckles dotted her cheeks, and a few were scattered on her nose. She had a skinny frame, and she always seemed to slump her shoulders when Luke wasn’t around.

  In seventh grade, I’d worked on an English project with Angela. She was so shy then. She would mumble quietly with her head down, and never looked directly at you. She ended up doing the entire project by herself, because she wouldn’t let me work on it with her outside of school.

  On the day of presentation, I did most of the talking while she stood trembling beside me. The teacher stopped us and let her step outside. As she sped across the classroom, she turned her head and glanced at Luke, who was watching her with a worried expression. I was shocked, utterly shocked. Some girl had yelled, “She’s so weird!” and people snickered. I wanted to open my mouth and tell her to shut up, but my throat felt tight and the sound was trapped there.

  “Hey!” Luke’s strong voice yelled. “Would you like being called names behind your back?” The class went dead silent. “I didn’t think so,” he spat.

  I cheered in my head. Angela and I were alike in a lot of ways. I was a new girl having to meet new people, and given my past . . . well, I didn’t trust people easily. Being shy was a part of who I was, but me and Angela had both gotten over most of our shyness.

  I blinked and realized that I was staring at Angela. Everyone was roaring with laughter, and I knew I had missed some joke. Emily nudged me and I smiled, pretending to be in the loop. I was quiet for the rest of lunch, which was normal. Lunch was like my personal TV show, and I sat back and watched. I talked here and there, but I enjoyed listening to the funny, strange, secret, or drama-filled conversations.

  The bell rang, and we all groaned that we had to go back to class.

  —————

  “So . . .” Emily started to say on the way to her car. “You know what this weekend is, right?”

  Ugh, I thought to myself, please no more parties. Most weekends, Emily would drag me to parties I didn’t want to go to. Everyone would get drunk and dance and have fun, and I would sit there bored out of my mind. Or I would have to chase Emily down and make sure she didn’t do anything stupid. She called me her “common sense.” Parties to me were like giant awkward moments. Everyone always acted crazy and stupid. I didn’t like being out of control or putting harmful things into my body. I didn’t shun people for doing it; I just didn’t enjoy it like they did. Parties did have their funny moments, though. Seeing people trip or fall were some of the funniest things in the world to me as long as they didn’t get hurt.

  Sometimes I wondered how my life would be if Emily and I had never become friends. I would be like a less-smart version of Angela— quiet and reserved, minding my own business. I wouldn’t talk to anybody, or be in any clubs, or on any team. Well, I wasn’t on any teams now. I would have no sense of style, no confidence, and no one would even know my name. Emily taught me how to better match my clothes, and smile prettier, and talk louder, and love myself for who I was. The only thing that didn’t rub off was wearing makeup. I was nowhere near as outgoing as Emily, but at least I could have a conversation . . . if Emily brought me into it.

  Emily and I had met in the fifth grade. It was my first day of class, and some chubby-faced boy was making fun of my pink-and-brown plaid pants, which also matched my purse, shirt, and shoes. Emily’s face scrunched up, and she stood in front of me with her hands on her hips. She told him to shut up and poked him in the chest.

  “Lily can match better than you, so I don’t know why you’re talking,” she had said.

  “Whatever,” the boy said and walked away.

  She turned around and smiled at me. I tried to return it, but I felt so embarrassed.

  She wrapped her arm around my shoulders. She had always been a little taller than me.

  “Don’t worry. He’s just a stupid boy,” she said.

  From that day on, Emily and I were inseparable. For some reason, we clicked. Emily was my best friend, my partner in crime. We could be ourselves around each other and not care about what other people thought. We grew up together, watched movies and ate popcorn, had sleepovers, and gushed over boys and mo
vie stars. I told her things that I never told anyone else. She was the only one who knew my deepest, darkest secrets—my greatest fears. And as we got older, our bond only grew stronger. Emily didn’t have to stick up for me now, but I was still shy—extremely shy—when it came to boys.

  “Well, do you know what’s going on this weekend?” Emily asked.

  I looked around the parking lot and watched two women speed-walking with tennis rackets in their hands. “What is it this time?” I said, laughing at the pretend glare Emily flashed me, then wiped the sweat that was beading off of my forehead.

  “Everyone’s going to the movies on Saturday, and we should go!” she gushed.

  “Who’s everybody?” I asked.

  She giggled. “You sound like my mom.” She ran her fingers through her bangs. “Everybody is hopefully me and you, Sarah, Max, Rachel, Jacob . . .” She beamed when she said Jacob’s name, which made me nervous because he was eighteen (Emily was only sixteen like me). I’d heard that Jacob was very cocky and controlling, but you could never be sure about rumors.

  “Luke, Angela, and Scott . . .” Emily paused to gently elbow my ribs twice, then wiggled her eyebrows at me.

  When she said Scott’s name, my heart fluttered. I’d had a little crush on him since the fifth grade. I guess it was possible to like someone you grew up with. I didn’t like that Max was going to be there. He would think I was going for him. I wasn’t looking forward to Sarah either; she didn’t flirt with boys, and when she smiled at me . . . it was weird.

  “That sounds like fun,” I said.

  “I know!” She smiled slyly. “You just want to see Scott!” she accused.

  “Shhh!” I whispered urgently, looking around the parking lot. Emily laughed at my reaction. We reached her yellow MINI Cooper and hopped in.

  “What movie is it?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure, but I think it’s a scary movie,” she said, flashing her shiny teeth. She loved horror films. I preferred comedies or romances.

  “Around nine is what I heard,” she said. “I’ll ask around tomorrow.”

  “All right, cool,” I replied. I would talk to my mom tonight.