Prologue

"Daddy! Daddy! Mommy isn't moving! Daddy! Is she sleeping?" a little girl cried, running into her father's study. Her dad looked up, alarmed. He took off his glasses and set them on the table.

"Where? Where? Show me, Serena! Show me!" he demanded, shaking her by the shoulders.

The two took off running down the hallway towards a room on the left. "May?" Serena's father called out softly. "May?" He entered the room, scanning it in horror.

There she was, a once beautiful women, lying still on the ground. Motionless. Completely motionless.

"Mommy! Mommy! Wake up, wake up!"

"Get away, Serena! Quick, get me the phone. Get me the phone, Serena! Now!" her father roared. He knelt down beside his one and only true love and wept as his daughter ran away, softly crying. "May... May. I- I... Why? What about our daughters, May, what about our daughters? I love you! I love you..."

Serena returned, a phone clutched in her chubby fingers. "Daddy? Is Mommy going to be alright? Is she still sleeping?"

Her father turned around. "Leave! Leave! I don't need a phone right now! You just go away!"

And the door slammed shut.

Serena stared blankly at the door. She could here sobbing inside. Small pattering footsteps resounded behind her. Serena turned around to find her little sister, Rose.

"Is- is Momma alright?" she asked in a small voice.

"I-I yes... I think," Serena said, hesitantly.

"Are you sure?" Rose's baby mouth replied. "She really is okay?"

Serena turned around and faced the wall, pondering. Was her mom okay? A thought struck her like lightening, shocking and frightening. Serena's eyes widened. She finally understood.

"Rose... Mommy is dead. She's dead."

Thunderstorms

"Rose... Mommy is dead. She's dead."

I screamed. "NO!"

The door creaked open, Rose peeking her head in. "Serena? Serena, are you okay?"

I stared. Was I? Was I okay? Honestly, I didn't know. It had been....God. It had been ten years since my mom had died. Now I was fifteen and Rose was twelve. Ten years. And I still couldn't let Mom go.

Rose cracked the door open some more and walked into the room. "I'm always here...if you need me."

She tucked her auburn hair behind her ear. "Do you? Answer me!" Her voice was demanding. It scared me how much she had grown.

I hesitated. "We all need each other. Okay? Just go back to bed, it's summer. No school. I can't risk you getting... hurt," I said firmly. I couldn't bring myself to say "killed".

My sister just shook her head. "Fine." Her voice was laced with disappointment. And I could see it in her eyes. The sorrow. The pain. The anger.

My poor little sister... I just couldn't let her die like Mom did. I was not going to lose Rose or Dad. Dad... an empty shell. Like a dementor from Harry Potter had sucked out his soul. And I just hated seeing him like that.

When he came down for breakfast and dinner. His hair was unruly, eyes bloodshot. But that's no what bothers me. It's the look in his eyes. I can't even... describe it.

"Rose, I'm never gonna let anyone harm you. Ever! As long as I live, no one will ever dare to- to- Rose... I just... don't want you to end up like Mommy."

The word was out before I knew it. Mommy. She died before I could even stop calling her that.

She looked at me sadly. "You don't have to treat me like a peice of china!"

And the door slammed shut.

 I froze. Apalled. I couldn't believe it. My tiny, defenseless sister. So delicate... ready to peel away and reveal the tenderness and fragility inside. She was a fresh, newborn rose.

And then I started to cry. Outside, it started raining. Why was I crying? To be truthful, I didn't know. Thick tears started streaking down my face and landed on my lap. Thunder crackled, drops of water splashed across windows.

My room was a dark gray, with no light penetrating it as I threw on some clothes. A blue long-sleeved T-shirt and black leggings. Outfits never bothered me, whatever I pulled out first from the wardrobe went on.

The reddish-gold hair of mine went up in my usual ice-skating ponytail, not bothering to be combed after I brushed my teeth. I wiped my eyes and sniffed. God, I was sensitive.

Downstairs, Rose was silently eating cereal. She looked up, then back down at her Raisin Bran. What exactly was so interesting in that bowl?

"So..."

Blue eyes met blue eyes. "What?"

I paused. Rose looked so fierce, her icy eyes chilling mine. "Wanna check if there's poisen, I'm guessing," she snapped sarcastically.

"Well, no. I just, well- well- R- Raisin Bran is...good."

Rose snorted. "We are having the lamest conversation ever."

I took a deep breath. My chest was about to explode with anger. How dare she? How dare Rose? I was trying to help her! Trying to make it so she didn't die! And she acts like it's no big deal?

"Well, looks like I'm done with this. Gotta dash!" She dumped her dish into the sink and thudded upstairs, slamming her bedroom door behind her.

Hatred. Hatred was the first emotion I felt. For two seconds, I hated Rose and her stupid Raisin Bran. And I lied, Raisin Bran tastes like crap.

How dare my little sister just walk away from me like that? I was her only friend. At school, she was called a freak, motherless, and annoying. She only had me to console to. Only me to cry on. Only me to depend on comfort. And now she was walking the other way and closing doors in my face?

Unbelievable. Totally unbelievable. I fumed under my breath. Rage was slowly bubbling up me, until I realized how foolish I was being.

I was exactly like her. Memories aroused and choked me, the air was thick with remorse and remembrance.

Thia walked up to me. "Serena! Why are you crying?"

I sobbed. "M- m- I- it- she..."  Before I could think, I flung myself onto the ground, curling up into a ball and could not stop wailing.

"What are you doing? Look, I don't want to embarrass myself standing next to some lunatic! Answer me!"

"She- she's not- I- my mommy- I do-don't want to..."

Thia rolled her eyes. "Well, you crazy freak, if you aren't going to talk to me, then fine! We aren't best friendy-wendies forever anymore."

"NO! Thia- please, you don't understand!" By then, the playground woodchips were sopping from my sorrow.

"Bella! Hey, wait for me, Bella!"

"No way. You were hanging out with that weirdo so we aren't going to talk to you!" Bella taunted.

I couldn't stand it anymore. "My mommy died!"

If back then, I thought this would make me feel better, I was wrong. Dead wrong.

"Pfft! You liar-liar- pant's on fire! That's impossible! Mommies don't die, they live with you forever and ever! I thought everyone knew that!"

"Yeah! You're just trying to get attention! I'm telling Miss Ingrid that you're lying and she won't give you stickers!"

 All around me, jeers were ringing through my ears. Even now, I still can't imagine that so many innocent kids could be so... cruel. And Thia Nordrakis was supposed to be my "friend". Thanks to her, now I no longer have any.

I stared out the glass. The weather described my feelings: turmoil, dark, and gloomy. My eyes traveled to the kitchen table. Curses. Rose didn't put the box of Raisin Bran back. Well, I may as well eat some; there was nothing else to eat as breakfast.

My nose crinkled up at the dry and overly sweet taste of the cereal as I scooped up a handful and slowly chewed it.

I was so distressed, I didn't notice the U-Haul truck park next to the house across mine.

 

 

 

Rosegard Drive

"No way! I am not moving!" I yelled.

"Grayson, please, we understand that-" Mom started. I never let her finish.

"I am not moving! You heard me! Everything we have is here, yet you and Dad excpect us to just pick up and leave?"

My mother sighed in exasperation. She rubbed her hand over her forhead. Unexpectedly, I felt a pang of pity. Mom wasn't old, it was stress that was turning her honey-blonde hair gray, creating bags under her eyes, and wrinkles over her once smooth skin. Or maybe it was because I made her watch too much football. I don't know. Empathy isn't my thing. 

 "Your father and I feel it's best we leave... after what happened to Jamie I don't know.... if we can exactly stay... you heard them... they're after us. They're trying to escape and they're after us! We must leave, Grayson, it's for the best." Tears spilled down her face and she cletched her fingers together, bringing them to her mouth as she sobbed. Oh. So that's why Mom has been so scared and withered lately. Them. And just the mention of Jamie racks shudders through me. 

Jamie. 

Jamie.

Jamie.

Jamie.

Jamie.

Grayson Maltris, stop freaking yourself out like a prissy girl! 

"But..." I protested warily.

Mom held out her hand in front of my face. "Save it, Grayson."

I frowned. Perhaps maybe it was for the best. Seriously, that business with the gang and my brother... none of us will ever be the same.

 Okay, now I was being really dramatic. I still remember how faint I felt when I discovered Jamie in the alley way, with a red shirt and pants, realizing that he didn't have red pants, and bellowing. I wiped sweat off my forehead. Wow, it was hot in here.

My eyes scanned the house, before landing on the wall. It was 3:50. And I was wearing my hockey uniform. Go figure- wait, what? 3:50? My hockey uniform? Oh no. Ohh noo.

"Crap!" I shouted.

Mom jumped. "What is it? Are they here? Did you hurt yourself? Is the stove running? Grayson, what is it?" Her hazel eyes were filled withed panic.

"No! My game, it starts at 4:10! Mom, we need to leave! Now!"

"What-" She looked around, trying to register everything. Mom's gaze fell on me, then on the clock, the hockey bag in the corner, and finally landed on the car keys in her hand. We had wasted too much time arguing that it just slipped from our minds!

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. This was the final game of the season! Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Let's go! MOM, LET'S GO!"

She snapped out of her daze. "Right."

 

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, STUPID! We lost the game five days ago! I'm so STUPID! If I had blocked that last goal, we could have won! Ugh. Instead, my mind fell on moving away. Now it was time to leave Sherwood Lane and "hop on into the wagon to Rosegard Drive", as Dad had said.

 "Grayson! We gotta get on the road! GRAYSON!" Dad's yell made me cringe.

 I snarled under my breath. But maybe there was a bright side. Perhaps there were hot girls over there, just waiting for me and my undeniable charm.

"Coming!" I shouted back. The stairs thumped as I ran down from my room.

"Ready to go?"

"Whatever," I grumbled sullenly. No. No I wasn't ready to go. I still wanted to play one last game of basketball in the driveway. I still wanted to toss the football around in the backyard. I still wanted to slouch on the sofa, watching TV. I still wanted to smell the barbecue in the patio, sizzling and juicy. I still wanted to sleep in my room. I still wanted to stay.

"Horrible weather today, right?" he chattered, forcing a smile.

Outside it was raining heavily. The sky was a dreary gray. "Sure. Stop talking, Dad. I wanna get this over with," I said, all while chewing the inside of my cheek.

"Of course, Gray." I flinched. This was the first time he had called me that since Jamie's... "accident". Like I believed any of that "accident" stuff. "Of course. Let's get moving."

The ride behind the moving truck was silent and boring. Mom tried attempting conversation, yet I refused to answer. I didn't want to do anything involving socializing. I'm that stubborn. I'm that amazing. Totally.

When we finally reached the house, I didn't bother to ooh and aah. What was the point, we'd seen it five times already.

Sliding out of Dad's red BMW, something caught my eye. Someone caught my eye. Across the street, there was a gray-brick home.

Whoever lived there didn't have much for privacy. The curtains and blinds were up. May as well have been advertising yourself. Here I am! Come watch me get naked while I change! Come shoot me!

Upstairs, there was in one room, a man. He was bedraggled and thin. Another room on the same floor showed a girl who looked around thirteen-ish. She was pacing and obviously infuriated.

Then, downstairs in what I believed was the kitchen. There was another girl, this time around fifteen- my age. Her bright strawberry blonde hair looked like fire amongst the dead day. Even here, I could see eyes rimmed with red: she had been crying. And the eye doctor claimed that I had 10/20 vision! Ugh, rude. A box of Raisin Bran stood on the table. I gagged; Raisin Bran was horrible. Clearly, my new neighbor hated it too.

She was so distressed, she didn't notice me.

Yellow Is My Life

I was so mad at Serena. She acted like I was her personal little pet. Like she owned me. I am not a cat! A sharp glass shard lodged itself in my heart. I was like a slave.

Downstairs, my sharp ears heard soft weeping. I swallowed down bubbling guilt. I made Serena cry. Again. I'm not going to pretend I didn't hear her as I left Serena's room. I don't lie.

My name is Rose Sharpe, and I do not lie. I haven't lied since I was five. Two or three years after- what should I even call her? Mom? Mommy? Mother? It's just... "Mommy" was my initial name for... her. "Mommy" doesn't seem right for her anymore. "Her" isn't a title either.

Two years after my m-? My erm... mother? That seems okay. Two or three years after my mother died. And I lied to my "buddy" Gianni about how I felt.

Gianni was very empathetic with everyone. Unlike Thia Nordrakis, our girly, popular, and filthy rich neighbor who kicked my sister in the dust. Yeah that's right, I know about that too!

But when Gianni asked me if I was alright, knowing full well that I wasn't, I suppose I had just had enough. Enough pity. Enough coddling. "Y- Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine, Gi."

She didn't believe me. As small- or was it small- of an untruthful answer that was, she didn't trust me again. And I mean ever again. Gianni was my only friend besides Serena. Look how well that turned out. Perfect. Just perfect.

I poked my head out of the room. It was painted bright yellow when I was born, my mother believing it would bring luck and joy to me. Right...

Now I have my own definition of yellow. The particular shade of yellow looks like a lemon. Lemons are sour and bitter, with a taste that makes you want to cry. But once you get to get used to it, the lemon starts to taste sweet and tangy. That is only once your instinct learns to love it.

I have not  learned to love lemons. I have not learned to love yellow. I have not learned to love life. And yellow is my life.

Oh great. Just great. In the kitchen, Serena is crying harder than before. I don't know what to do! Go comfort her? Stay with my hair sticking out looking like a dork? I don't really care about what I appear like, but still. This is one of the most uncomfortable position I have ever been in; my neck is starting to strain and my arms and legs are sore.

 I made my descision before I lose my mind. "Stay here, Rose," I said to myself quietly. I would rather not face the guilt of confronting someone I made sob.

 My head pulled back into an egg yellow bedroom. I wondered if I should paint it blue, black, and silver with white birds... Calm, meaningful shades of sorrow.

 Absentmindly, I began to start wandering aimlessly in the room. It was quite big, with a marble tiled floor, with a carpet under my bed. The covers were the shade of a blue day flower. They used to be white, but I traded with Serena. Somehow. When she was in her right mind.

 

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 26.04.2014

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