In the Middle of Nowhere (Willow's Journey #1)
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It wasn’t long before my mother found a job working as the assistant librarian at my brother’s elementary school. She was thrilled because, even though it was only part-time, all three of us would now be eligible to receive health insurance. The money wasn’t great, but we were living rent free, as my uncle owned the house we now called home on Juniper Drive.
By mid-October, the ferryboat ride to school was even colder than I ever could have imagined. I zipped up my Down North Face jacket all the way to my nose and huddled against the window directly under one of the heating vents. I still was unable to warm up on the inside, no matter how many layers I piled on the outside.
The first month and a half of school passed without much excitement. I was doing well in my courses because all I did in my free time was study since my social life was completely non-existent.
Thank God for the Internet and FunForum.com where I could connect online with three of my best friends back in Massachusetts. Our friendships began when we were just seven years old and stuck in the same second grade class. It continued to blossom throughout middle school, right on into high school. Secretly, we called ourselves the “Fab Four.” We were very close and knew everything about each other. We weren’t in the popular group like some of the other girls, but we knew we could count on one another. At the end of the day, we always had each other’s backs.
Luckily, all three of my friends and I had computers with built-in cameras. We would all sign on to FunForum at the same time and chat for hours on end. It was my salvation while living on the cold and lonely island.
I had told the girls about Michael Cooper and his creepiness back in September, about how he tried to friend me on MyWeb and how I had deleted his request.
Gabby had commented first. “Give him a chance, Willow. He looks kinda cute in his profile picture.”
“Yeah, cute if you’re into devil worshipping!” Sarah chimed in. Everybody had laughed, except for me.
Becca sensed my unhappiness and tried to take control of the situation. “Stop it, guys! We need to support Willow and whatever choices she makes, even it’s embarking on a relationship with the spawn of Satan.” The girls laughed, even Becca.
I was pissed and threw them my middle finger. “Ha ha. Very funny.”
Becca leaned forward and kissed her camera. “This one’s for Willow only. I’m sorry, friend.”
“Seriously. I told you guys that I don’t like him and I haven’t even seen him anywhere in school since he wrote me that note over a week ago.”
“Maybe he dropped out …” Gabby had trailed off as she picked remnants of bright pink polish off her fingernails.
“Or maybe he’s in the witness protection program or working as a spy for some secret agency,” Sarah had suggested.
“Give me a break!” I had snapped. “You guys should talk. None of you have boyfriends, unless you consider making out with Pete and getting groped every Saturday night in your basement a relationship, Sarah.”
This time Sarah was not amused. “Pete and I are strictly friends with benefits and neither of us is interested in taking our relationship any further,” she huffed.
I heard my mother’s footsteps coming. I should have been studying.
“Here comes my mom. Gotta go!” I had said before slamming my laptop closed.
As my body swayed with the waves that rocked and rolled the ferry, I reflected on the conversation with my friends. They were either being rude or jealous. I wasn’t sure which. After I had signed off with my friends that night and had finished studying, I checked out Michael’s pics on MyWeb.
He didn’t look like Satan. Granted he only wore black clothes, from his hoodie to his sneakers and his thick, long hair reminded me of black licorice, but his dark eyes, which were piercing at times, also came across as soft and thoughtful.
He had thick, manly eyebrows and looked far older than fifteen. There was a subtle hint of mischief in every one of his smiles, whether he was performing a jump on his BMX bike or cuddling with the family dog.
Michael was tall and skinny, at least six feet, and did have somewhat of a Gothic appearance, as his skin was very pale. But he also had perfectly straight white teeth, full lips and a nice nose; not too big, not too small and a cute little cleft right in the middle of his chin.
When I really thought about it, I realized that Michael Cooper was kinda cute, but his weird note that morning just pushed me over the edge. It didn’t matter anyway. He still hadn’t come back to school and it had been almost a month.
I breathed the warm air from inside my jacket and glanced around the boat. To the left of me I recognized a classmate from school named Shawna. She was in my homeroom and seemed nice and kind of nerdy. I thought she might know something.
I sat up straight and cleared my throat. “Excuse me,” I said as I turned toward her.
Shawna looked at me and pointed to herself. “Who, me?”
“Yes, you. Do you by any chance happen to know what happened to that boy who was in our homeroom in the beginning of the year?”
As soon as I finished asking her, I regretted it.
“Which boy?”
“Michael. Michael Cooper.”
Shawna nodded, leaned toward me and whispered. “I heard that Michael Cooper was very sick and almost died.”
I was shocked and my face must have showed it. I was speechless.
Shawna pushed her glasses further up her pointy nose and continued. “Guess he ended up in the hospital and had to stay in there for a long time.”
She sat back and shrugged. “That’s all I know. Haven’t heard much about him since. To tell you the truth, I don’t even know if he’s alive.”
Shawna looked out the window as if she had just given me a brief weather report, while I sat there stunned, my jaw practically hitting the icy ferryboat floor, and not understanding why when I didn’t know enough about Michael Cooper to even care.
• • •
As soon as I got home from school, I rushed to my room and signed on to my computer to look up Michael on MyWeb. Maybe there was an update about his whereabouts or an explanation of why he wasn’t in school. I couldn’t believe what Shawna told me or, more importantly, how she told me. She seemed so nonchalant about his well-being, didn’t even know whether or not he was alive. So much for nice and nerdy.
I typed in his name, but because I wasn’t friends with him, the information I got was very limited. It only listed his hometown, school, age and other irrelevant facts. It also showed a quote under his picture, which indicated it was written by M.E.C. I assumed it was by him. The quote puzzled me. It read: “Live for today, for tomorrow may never come.”
Despite the fact that I had deleted Michael’s request to be friends with me a month earlier, I decided to request him as a friend this time. I steadied my cursor over the friend button, but hesitated. Do it, I thought to myself. Why not? He already tried to friend me first and I had absolutely nothing to lose. I pinched my eyes shut and quickly clicked on the button.
I did it, but figured, what was the point now? The kid could be holed up in some hospital bed for all I knew and not have access to a computer. Or, better yet, what if he were too sick to even use a computer? What was I thinking trying to friend a guy who, up until Shawna told me he might be dead, I didn’t even give a damn about?
I closed the top of my computer and climbed off my bed. I stood in front of my floor length mirror and looked at myself. What did Michael see in me? Why did he send me that note? Did he do it to all the girls and what did his poem even mean? It had said something about me facing my fears.
I studied my reflection and wasn’t too disappointed. I inherited my mom’s turned up, lightly freckled Irish nose as well as her olive complexion. My dad always said I had his mother’s big, expressive eyes, colored dark blue like his. I already had dark, thick eyelashes and only put on eyeliner and mascara for special occasions.
My naturally highlighted, chestnut hair had a subtle wave to it if I
let it air dry, but I preferred it to be straight and would use my flat iron whenever possible. If I were running late, I’d keep my curls and just throw my hair up on top of my head in a messy bun.
I was only 5’4” and had to be careful of what I ate. I had a pretty fast metabolism, but was afraid it would slow down at any minute and I’d become overweight. I don’t know why I believed this since no one in my family had a weight problem. I think I saw it once on some talk show or infomercial and didn’t want to take the chance. Either way I thought it best to eat healthy, yet not deny myself junk food once in a while. I was a teenager, after all.
I wasn’t stick thin like some of the girls in my grade or perfectly curvy in all the right places like Tessa Anderson. I had average-sized breasts, a smaller waist, regular hips and an ample behind. I turned to review my rear. I was definitely built like a young woman and relatively attractive compared to a lot of other girls in my school. Wholesome. That’s what my grandmother always said about me. I looked wholesome. It didn’t sound cool to be considered wholesome. It sounded more like a curse.
Just then my computer dinged, alerting me that I had a new e-mail message. I hopped on my bed, twirled my laptop around and searched. I had over twenty unread e-mail messages from before and figured that I must have gotten a new one. From what I could tell, all of them were spam. I was ready to delete all the junk mail when one at the very bottom caught my eye. The subject line read: “Thought you’d never ask,” and was attached to a friendship acceptance from one Michael E. Cooper.
CHAPTER
FIVE