prologue

Prologue— at age 7.
I look out the window at the snow, how it'ls pure white and falling. Kids running around dancing and making snow angels, but unlike those kids I wasn't allowed. I envied them for their freedom and carelessness. While i'm cooped here, doing nothing but reading and learning. I shivered at the cool breeze in the room and snuggle into my sweater I’ve had since I was 5.

Getting up from the window seat, I run into the kitchen to the cook. He is always challenging me to read and become smart, and I take the challenges. I saw the cook swirling a sugar stick in the foster home headmaster’s coffee, like everyday. He looks down at me and greets me with a smile, he is the only one to do so. All of the other kids give me dirty looks, and I’m looked down upon. I look up at him with the same smile, I held up the book he gave me. It was a total of 180 pages, I read all of them. In the same hand as my book was my teddy bear, I favored it because my true mother gave to me before she left me here. Giving the sugar stick one more swirl before taking the book, the cook gave me a reassuring look. Once he had the book I ran out of the kitchen and right into the headmaster of this foster home. My eyes reveled terror and I took a step back, afraid of what she might do. Holding tightly onto my teddy bear I close my eyes, after 1 or 2 seconds I popped one eye open and felt my arms hug my chest, not my teddy bear. I screamed and the cook came out from the kitchen looking towards me then the headmaster all the way to my teddy bear.

“Headmaster your coffee is ready, and will you give her bear stuff animal to her, it’s the only thing her mother left her,” he asks in a pleading voice that I was thankful for. I let out a sigh of relief when she forcefully slammed my teddy bear into my chest. I look over at the cook and with my big puppy dog eyes full of water waiting to escape, I mouth a ‘thank you.’ Here at the foster home I don’t speak, I haven’t for a long time. No one knows what my voice even sounds like, they think it’s freaky, but all I think is that if I’ll talk they’ll use it against me like everything else I do. The water from my eyes decided to leave in a trial down my pale cheek. The cook looked at me with sympathy, and then he rushed to get the headmaster her coffee. I bow my head and walk over to the window seat I was at before. Crawling onto the seat I lean against the panel and envy the kids outside some more.

“Ally you're it,” I heard Matt call from upstairs, I look over to Ally in the corner hiding. I gave her a weak smile and put my hand against my mouth, noting that I wouldn’t talk. Even if she wasn’t there I wouldn’t. I heard to pairs of footsteps, one on the stairs and one coming out of the kitchen. Matt made his way to Ally, while the cook came to me with a new book at hand. I clapped my hands at the sight and made room for him to sit next to me.

“I’m glad you finished that other book, it was quite long, a whole 180 pages. This one is slightly longer 213 pages, and each of these pages is magical. Remember to give me the book back when you are finish, who am I kidding I know you will.” He patted my black curly hair messing it up, once his hand left my hair I was quick to fix it. Placing the book down, he got up and left. Picking the book up I assume it is a good one, because the cook gave it to me, I’ve always enjoyed the ones he encouraged me to read. I skip through the title page and extra stuff until I get to chapter one. Shifting into a comfortable position, I began to read. Dinner was being called and I had just started chapter 5. I groan and decided I wasn’t hungry, and I kept reading getting lost in the book.

chapter one.

Present day.
Slamming my hand down on the beeper I groaned for two reasons. One because it was to early to get up, and two I slammed my hand hard. Silently I roll out of bed and dig through my dresser for a light blue tank top and light blue skinny jeans. Quickly I slip them on then rampage through the dresser again for a sweater. I found a white sweater I’ve gotten with my own money, of course it wasn’t brand name. After slipping that on I went to the foster home bathroom, which everyone uses. Quickly I did my makeup, eyeliner, massacre, and light eye shadow. Once done with that I walk back to my room to find my book bag. While picking it up one of my oldest books fell, I picked it up and placed it in my book bag. I pulled my book bag over my shoulder and made way into the kitchen. I look towards the cook and smile, even though it’s been 11 years we still did this everyday. He looked back at me and gave a weak smile he was busy making breakfast for all the foster kids. I waved goodbye and walked out of the kitchen, and then soon out the foster home.

Breathing heavily from walking that long distance, I made it to school. I pass everyone in the school yard and they all say hi, expecting an answer, but like when I was 7 I didn’t talk. My voice hidden as always. I slip through the crowd into the hall in the hall there was absolutely no space to move. Hoping people saw me as they did yesterday, they would move as if I was a disease.

To my advantage they did, except one person and I failed to see who he was before slamming into him like he was a wall. He felt like a wall, his chest hard like bricks. I stumble back and almost fall, but he grabbed my arm to help me gain balance. I would say sorry, but the words didn’t come out, and I feared that my voice has been forever locked inside of me. That didn’t bother me, but me wanting to say something did. I’m very under-spoken it’s unlike me to want to have a voice. Looking over my thoughts I almost forgot where I was, and this gorgeous guy, how can you forget someone like him.

“Sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going,” he says with a voice that is music to my ears. I nodded, and then turn around to go find my way to my homeroom, before the bell rings. When I was fully turned around I felt his hand grip my wrist and twirl me around again.
“Aren’t you going to talk?” I shook my head and looked for an escape route, I’m surprise I need one. Usually these people want to be the ones getting away from me. I sigh in relief as the school’s Barbie doll came into view walking towards the handsome man. She came right up next to him with her hand rubbing up and down his arm. Then she turned and looked at me in disgust.
“Ew! You shouldn’t bother with her, she hasn’t talked since she was in kindergarten and we only heard one word out of her, which was her name. She’s a total geek let’s leave before she gets her disease all over us.” I roll my eyes and twirl on the bottoms of my heel, but his hand was still firmly on my wrist. I arched an eyebrow and wiggle my hand trying to get lose of his grip. I ripped my wrist free of his grasp and he looked shocked at how strong I was. Quickly I walked across the hall to my homeroom, away from the random hot dude. Taking my hair tie, I put my curly black hair into a bun.

I open the door to the room and walk to my usual seat. Setting everything up into place I lean back into my chair and watch the room fill up slowly, until the bell rings and the halls quickly became clear, while the classrooms were emerged. Mrs. Veldhuis started her lecture on boring things, like the revolutionary war. I read about that in 3 grade get over it. I’ve token all a.p classes, but I didn’t have any money to afford to go to collage, even though I could be out of collage right now. I took this time during her lecture to go over my thoughts about me wanting to speak. It was very unusual for me, the urge to use my voice, to finally be heard. I like talking to myself silently, being my own friend, that way no one can hurt me again. Not the way my mother hurt me by leaving me at the foster home, not the way the headmaster nearly killed me. Not being hurt like the time I wanted to play tag with the others but they ignored me the outcast. I let it sink in, being the outsider. The one not being wanted, I took that and thought why talk when no one will listen? The one thing I don’t know is why I wanted him to listen. When I was thinking hard about that last question I was interrupted.

“Violet, come to the board and write a summary on what the lecture was about,” Mrs. Veldhuis states knowing that I was daydreaming rather than listening. Everyone gave out oh’s and laughs. I got out of my seat and tripped on a foot, I looked to who the foot belonged to and found the guy that I ran into. Slowly I continued down the path between desks up to the front board. I reminisce about the book I read back in 3rd grade and began to write. After 5 minutes I had wrote 9 sentences in a complete summary which the principal would even be proud of. Putting the cap on the marker, I throw the marker at the board and watch it land on the floor. I don’t pick it up I just go back to my seat and look out the window. It was a habit of mine, habits die hard.

Not soon enough the bell rang and I was rushing out the door. Not wanting to go to second lesson, I go to the art room instead. Mr. Mezzo, the art teacher, doesn’t mind me going there as long as I clean up. Slowly and quietly I slip through the door and tip toe into the room, to my canvas. I take out the paint colors and brushes then began to stroke the canvas. With each stroke my smile brightens up a little, this is because painting is my way of saying words no one will listen to, but surely they’ll see it. I heard the bell ring to signal students to get to class, but I just sat there lightly brushing the paint into a picture. I guess its true the saying a picture can say a thousand words. Not caring about what I’m painting I let my mind do the work. After ten times of absently stroking lines and figures, I look at my painting. It shocked me, what I painted. It was a girl like me, long curly black hair, a small figure, and a beautiful facial structure, but there was one thing absolutely different about us she had wings pure white ones. They outstretch wide and tall, and they look easily like a pure angel from heaven. In the painting, the girl looked depressed, and heart broken, as I am. Could this be a picture of me?

“Oh my, Violet this is one of your best paintings yet,” Mr. Mezzo exclaims from behind me making me jump almost spilling the water with brushes soaking. I smile knowing that someone has listened to my painting, to me. I turn around in my chair and see him again. The smile that I just found slowly disappeared. The dude was looking at my painting with an expression I couldn’t fully understand. I reached into my book bag and took out a note that said thank you and gave it to Mr. Mezzo, I swear he has at least a hundred of them.

chapter two

Quickly I get up and leave dumping into him on accident. I look at the ground mentally slapping myself, and then I continued out the door. I heard footsteps behind me, and to my surprise it was that dude. I stopped and turn to face him.

“Je suis desole,” I mumble in French, meaning I’m sorry. Of course he gives me a blank expression not understanding. I would repeat myself but I couldn’t talk again it got stuck in my throat as I saw people coming into the hall. From then on that day it was boring and I didn’t see him. The final bell rings signaling us to go home. I slip trough the crowd to my locker and pull out my skateboard. Today surprised me, I talked, but that’s not what surprised me. It’s what made me talk, the dude. He seems for familiar, but dangerous. Quickly I escape the crowd out of the school.

I need a break, I thought to myself. On the steps of the school I sit down closing my eyes. I sit there for 2 minutes trying to clear my mind and go back to my normal self with my eyes close. To my surprise when I open my eyes a large wolf was in front of me with hungry eyes and all I can think is I’m going to die. When the wolf steps closer I lean back and away from it. A frown appears on my face again when I notice how unreal this is today is just going to be eventful isn’t it. Slowly and carefully I pull myself up a step away care. With my eyes wide open and my ears listening to anything I hear the door behind me slam and the wolf just stands there. Not daring to take my eyes off the wolf I wonder who came out, but I stop wondering when in a flash the new guy was tackling the wolf. My eyes open wider and I continue to stay on the step not moving. Watching them make ingenious attacks they were equally hurting each other which for no clue why made my heart crack at the thought. In the end the wolf was limping away and the new guy rushing to my side. He took my hand and my heart immediately perked up. Why am I feeling this way, I wonder to myself.

“That’s because were meant for each other, basically made for each other and no other.” My eyes quickly catch his, but all I saw was happiness all of the danger faded. But why I ask myself slowly wonder, why us? Wait, he can hear what I thought.I'm going insane, first the picture now this.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 15.11.2011

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Widmung:
to mackenzie my bestfriend for making me stay up late writing this :)