Its early morning, I'm lying in bed. Dawn has yet to raise its sleepy head and yawn and stretch its golden rays to light the world. The sky is a dark blue, I watch from my window tangled in the bed sheets.
Turning around I sink back into the bed. Sighing heavily I check the clock- 4:03 a.m. why am I so awake? I close my eyes and try to focus on sleeping. Hot, I'm hot; kicking off the covers I groan and wiggle around on my twin size bed. I hear Jackson snoring in the room down the hall.
Forget it.
I get up, pull my hair back into a pony tail and slide my feet out and onto the hardwood. The house is silent, not like the one back home. The old house, the good one, made noises in the night. The floor creaked, the dishwasher was always rinsing, and the washing machine was always turning.
I grab a pair of shorts and slip into them; next I pick up Jackson's ratty hockey sweatshirt and slowly sneak down the stairs. My sneakers are shoved in the corner of the dining room I pick them up and tie the laces good and tight.
The door opens easily with a quiet hiss. The morning air is good, ocean fresh. The beach looks lonely from here. Starting with a light jog I make my way to its side. The ocean's waves are rolling in and out lazily. The moon is fading as the daylight comes into play. I don't need any music, just the sound of my breathing and the wave's crash.
My pace is sluggish with my feet sinking into the sand but I keep going. With my head down and arms pumping I plow through the burning sensation in my thighs. My last run was what, months ago? I can't remember. But, oh, this air on my face feels so good. Not humid like back home, but strong and clean- salt water wind will take getting use too but I'll manage.
My legs give out and I tumble over into the grainy sand. My chest is heaving, my lungs are wheezing, but I feel good, tired, sweaty and refreshed. A morning jog, that's all it takes. I know the sand will be death to wash out of my hair but it's worth it. I roll over and laugh smelling the earth, smelling the sky. My arms spread apart borrowing into the sand.
"T-Th-Thanks." I whisper to the sky still out of breath.
"Babe? Where were you this mornin'? I went to check up on you but you weren't there." My mother asks taking a seat and digging into her pancakes. My dad and Jackson have already gone, off to the church to help in whatever they can.
"I w-was out f-for a r-ru-run." I say stirring my chocolate milk. My mother smiles and nods.
"I'm glad, you haven't been running, and the beach is probably beautiful at sunrise… humm… you think that'd make a good painting?"
I nod fiercely, "Ye-Yes."
"I think I'll do that… hey what do ya have planned for today? I was thinkin' maybe you and I could meet up with Mrs. Truscott and her daughter; Mrs. Truscott called yesterday a little after you went to bed. I think you and Lillian would be great friends. What do you say, sweetie?"
I weight my options; I really don't think Lillian and I would make 'great friends.' I'm sure she's a lovely girl but… just not for me. She seems loud, unruly, and unwilling to be patient with me.
"I th-think I-I'll ju-just go t-to th-the library." I smile finishing up my breakfast and standing.
"Oh," My mother's face bleeds disappointment, "Alright, Miley, but I really think you should get out more… meet people. But its okay, I understand, hey I'll give you a lift to the library. I saw it yesterday during our little tour."
The library smells fresh, like orange disinfectant. It's beautiful in an old Gothic style way. High elaborate ceilings take my breath away and the sun streaming through the numerous windows burn my eyes, but I greet it well. I take in this new beauty with great pleasure- bookcases made of fine cherry wood are sculpted and built into the walls, it makes my head dizzy and mouth water with what treasures these new uncharted shelves might hold for me.
My mother leaves me but not before informing to me to call every so often to check in. She asks when I would like to be picked up; I have the urge to say never, I say late afternoon. We wave goodbye and then I begin my hunt. Desire for a good book burns deep within me. It has been far too long since I've run my hands over a thin cream page, and I crave it.
There are three floors to the library- children books are on the bottom floor, young adult/adult second, and non-fiction on the third floor. I take the stairs, sliding my hand on the railing as I walk up the twisting staircase. I feel like I've been transported into another world. How could a library so grand possibly exist outside my imagination?
I first visit old friends- Fitzgerald, Salinger, Hemingway, and Steinbeck… they smile up at me snuggled warm and safe in their selves of polished wood. For a moment, I wish I was a book. This thought has crossed me many times. To be a book, yes, to remain unchanged- beginning, middle and end- to bring joy to those who truly understand my significance.
I slide my hands over the spins of the books, just to feel their knowledge tingle my fingertips. I let myself giggle softly. Oh, how childish I feel, how giddy. I pick out a novel that seems to suit me for the moment (White Ghost Girls by Alice Greenway). I find a secluded corner to nest myself, right next to the window that over looks to the busy city. Perfect, perfect.
The chair I've settled myself in is lush and plush, molding to my form as I slip out of my sandals and curl into myself like a cat. The library vibrates and hums into motion, but slowly. People speak in hushed tones; shoes hiss over the carpet and the people perched at the computers type with light fingertips (click, click, click- feather lightness.)
I'm so absorbed in the atmosphere, in my novel that I never saw it coming, "Hey…" A boy roughly my age leans against the wall in front of me. He is slouching with his hands in his pockets, black hair askew and eyes dim and lazy.
I nod, face flushed with the unaccepted attention, I grip the book's edges.
"I'm Walt." He smiles, mouth open straight white teeth glittering.
"Mum-Hum."
He chuckles, looking down at his shoes as he pulls himself up to a standing position. "You go to Seaview High?" He asks bending in close to me, his hands resting on the armrests of the chair. I feel my throat close up, he is too close. I smell his breath on my face.
"Not much of a talker? That's okay…" Walt grins; I don't like his smile, its fake too perfected.
"Walt!" Another boy jogs over, blond hair bouncing with his large movements, "Come on man, I gotta find that book for class!"
Walt's friend sees us and smiles coyly. "Aw, so that's why you ditched me." He slithers closer, eyes closing in on me.
Walt pulls his body back, away from me and I let out a large breath. "This girl," Walt points to me, "Is playing hard to get."
"Well," His friend laughs, "That's a shocker, might do you some good to get turned down for once."
Walt gears his attention back to me, "Come on, at least tell me your name?"
I shake my head and get up quickly, my perfect mood suddenly fallen flat. I try to walk by them but Walt's friend stops me with a gentle hand to my shoulder.
"Say, girl, cut my buddy some slack?" He offers with a shrug and laugh.
My mouth is dry, "L-le-leave m-me a-"
"What?" Walt bursts into a fit of laughter.
"Yeah, we c-ca-can't un-understand –y-you!" Walt's friend mocks slapping his buddy on the back as they chuckle amongst themselves, "Dude, you sure do know how to pick them!"
Flustered, my palms begin to sweat as my pride is shredded. I turn to run, but I can still hear them.
"W-Wait! C-Co-Come b-ba-back!" Walt calls after me.
I want to shout at them, I want to stomp my foot, throw my book or-
"Stop it!"
The boys turn to see a young girl standing close to me, as I try to hide in the stacks. Her blond hair is pulled into a loose braid as she walks over to them with fierce glaring eyes.
"Lilly?" Walt asks wiping his eyes, "What'd you want?"
She puffs out her chest and stands up to them, although they are much taller she proves victorious as she stares them down.
"Don't ever," She beings hotly, "Belittle someone the way you just did, you got me Walt? Danny?" She turns her head to each of them, "You two jerks just back off, got it?"
I put my head down and feel my cheeks sting with an unpleasant heat. I hold my book to my chest and try to hold in this thick emotion of embarrassment inside.
When I return my head to the scene I notice the boys are walking away and the girl is walking to me. I avert my eyes from hers as she gets closer.
"Hey," She speaks in a softer tone, very neutering, "Are you alright?"
My eyes become blurry as they fill with prickling tears. Why did I think it would be different here? People are mean anywhere and everywhere.
I shake my head 'no' and suck in a shaky breath. She sighs and places a warm hand to my shoulder. "Those guys are horrible, I know, I go to school with them… you're Miley, right?"
I watch her with suspicious eyes, still holding the book pressed against my chest as I try to regain my composer. I nod to satisfy her question and she smiles a toothy grin, "Yeah, that's what I thought…" She takes her hand off my shoulder, "You're mom said you'd be here. I'm guessing you like to read?" She asks me this question with a nervous smile and slouching position- hands in her front pockets and back hunched forward trying to meet my bashful gaze.
I nod again, still too timid to actually open my mouth to speak, still rather shocked at how destroyed my afternoon is now. All I wanted was a quiet day, away from the public and all else loud and LA. And I most definitely did not want the company of Lillian Truscott, although, I' am much obliged at her gestures in terms of rescuing me, but what do I say now?
"It's good, that you like to read… a lot of kids don't…" Lillian is failing miserably at starting a conversation with me, and I'm not helping- standing stiff. She scratches behind her neck and sighs, "Hey, would you like to meet my friend, Oliver? He's been wanting to meet you…"
Another person! I'm reeling, my body begins to sweat with the idea of having to speak to her friends, having their attention on me as I stumble over every answer, I would be humiliated. Looking to Lillian I clear my throat and softly reply, "I d-don't th-think s-s-so."
She shrugs, "Okay, then… well, I'll see you on Sunday then, alright?"
I give another nod of my head and she slowly turns and begins to walk away, I breathe out in relief. As I start to retreat back to my chair I notice, she looks back to me. Lillian, briefly, looks behind her shoulder as she is approaching the stairs and stares at me.
………..
Author's Note: I hope you don't mind, the urge to start writing this story again came to me this morning. If you suddenly find yourself in the mood to leave your thoughts on this chapter then please do, no pressure.