BlackMoon Beginnings

by Kaitlyn Hoyt

TUESDAY CAME AND WENT WITH no problems. It finally stopped raining too. I got an A on my test in English and B’s on both my Government and Art History finals. The only final I have left is English. I just have to get a C to pass the class. So I’m not really worried about it, but I’ve been studying a lot for this test. I got another message from Jane telling me that she isn’t going to be home at all this week. She and Ross are going on a business retreat with their company.

  I roll over and look at my alarm clock. It’s 6:55 a.m. My alarm is set to go off in five minutes. Groaning, I get out of bed, and just turn my alarm off. I won’t be able to fall back asleep anyway. The house is quiet while I am getting ready, so I plug in my iPod, and dance around my room to pass the time. I am in a good mood by the time I have to leave the house. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping. It is going to be a good day. I’m determined to make it one.

  Entering the school parking lot in the morning isn’t fun. Most people are already at school, and everyone is talking with their friends. Because I don’t drive to school, I’m watched as I pass through the lot. More people are looking at me than usual, pointing and whispering. I meet a few eyes, but focus on the ground as I walk the remaining distance to the door.

  I walk into the main entrance and down the hallway toward my locker. I get a lot of glances as I walk through the hall. No one ever looks at me during the school day. I’m the school outcast…the loner, the invisible girl.

  As I get closer, I notice people standing around my locker, pointing and laughing. In bright red paint, someone had written the word FREAK down the length of it. I instantly know who did it. I look around and find Lily and Adam standing at the other side of the hallway, smirking at me.

  I walk right past them all, and into my first block class. Since it is the last day of school for the seniors, most teachers don’t have anything for the students to do anyway. The teachers put a movie on just to pass the time. The majority of the day goes by in a blur. I don’t stop at my locker, and won’t, until school ends.

  By the time fourth block comes around, I become even more anxious. This test is worth twenty percent of my grade. I am barely passing at this point, so I have to do well. My heart starts beating harder in anticipation. Each step Mrs. Applegate takes toward me increases my heart rate. When she gets to my desk, I’m sure the whole classroom can hear its loud beat. She places the paper down on my desk, and whispers good luck.

  Writing my name on the final is the easy part; everything after that is a different story. On every question, I second-guess all my answers. I know them, but something in my mind keeps pulling me toward another response. The room is so quiet that I can hear the clock ticking on the opposite end of the room.

  Every pencil squeak, chair scrape, and shuffling of feet sounds a thousand times louder than usual. Every tick of the clock tells me that I am one second closer to the end, and each one makes me more nervous. I keep fidgeting with the flame necklace, a nervous habit I’d recently acquired, while I stare down at the test. When the bell finally rings, and it is time to turn it in, I am not as confident as I was when I entered the classroom.

  I smile at Mrs. Applegate, and wish her a great summer. Everyone is screaming, throwing paper around the hallway, excited for the summer. I turn to the left and walk around the school, hoping that by the time I get to my locker, everyone will be gone. A few minutes later, I turn right and walk down the math hallway—the hallway where my locker is located. The crowds have lessened by this time, but there are still a few people roaming the halls.

  I stop at my locker, and look at the word written across it, frowning. At least I didn’t have to see this everyday this year. I open my locker and grab everything out, shoving it into my bag. I carry around a large canvas tote bag that I have drawn leaves and vines on. Holding my doodled notebook in my hands, I turn around to leave. Right as I turn, someone slams into my back, knocking me into the locker.

  Throwing my hands out, I avoid physically hurting myself against it, but the momentum of the hit causes me to drop my bag.

  “Watch where you’re going, freak,” a man’s voice calls out to me as he runs away, not bothering to help. I have no idea who he is. Tucking my hair behind my ears, I bend down to gather my belongings from the ground. All my notebooks have spilled open, the papers from my folders are randomly dispersed in the hall, and my pens and pencils are rolling in opposite directions.

  “Here, I’ll help you with that.”

  I look up and see Colton bending down. “It’ll ruin your reputation. You don’t want to be seen associating with the school freak,” I mumble.

  “What?” he stops, his hands hovering over a book, and looks directly at me.

  “I said, thanks.”

  He knows that I didn’t say that, but he doesn’t comment. Together, we are able to gather the things relatively quickly. My doodling notebook has fallen open onto the page with the flamed drawing.

  “Did you draw this?” he asks, while looking intently at the page.

  Grabbing it out of his hand, I say, “Yeah, but I’m not finished yet.”

  “It’s really good.”

  Still sitting on the ground, I place the notebook in my bag, and look around, making sure we have gotten everything. Colton stands up and puts his hand out to help me. I accept it, thankful that someone is being nice to me for once.

  When I stand, I realize just how tall he is. Looking straight ahead, I am staring at the middle of his chest. I crane my neck back to look up at him to thank him. When I open my mouth to reply, it feels like pins and needles shoot up my body. Ice cascades through my arms. I can’t move or breathe. The pain travels up my arms and recedes into my head, where it remains. It’s so intense, I feel like I am going to pass out. I let go of Colton’s hand, slam my eyes shut, and grab my head. I am unable to think. All at once, I start hearing numerous voices, echoes of those around me. All of them are weighing me down. I let out a whimper as my legs give out. Colton reaches out and grabs me before I hit the ground.

  “Ryanne? What’s wrong?” I barely hear him, and can’t respond. The pain is too much. So many thoughts are running though my head: What’s wrong with her? Why is she acting like that? Why is he talking to her? Do these pants make me look fat? I’m really hungry. SUMMER TIME.

  Colton grabs my bag off the ground. Putting an arm behind my knees and the other at my back, he scoops me into his arms, and carries me out the school into the parking lot. With hurried steps, he makes it to his car and places me in the passenger seat, buckling me in the process.

  I lean forward and rest my head on my lap, but the voices don’t ease. It feels like everyone is screaming at me. Colton runs across the front of the car, jumps into the driver’s seat, and puts the car into reverse. He speeds out of the parking lot, not even bothering to buckle his own seatbelt.

  Grabbing his cell phone out of his jeans pocket, he dials a number. “Claire, it’s definitely her. I’m bringing her over now. I need your help.”

  What does he mean with it’s definitely her? When I am about to respond, a new wave of voices crashes into my head. What should we do tonight? We have to go celebrate. I need to do laundry. I have to hurry home. Dr. Oz is on. Ugh, my car won’t start, just my luck. I whimper again, this time louder than before.

  The pain proves to be too much for my body.