“Hi.”

The one worded first note. How does one respond to that? With no knowledge of who it came from or why, how was one to do such a thing?

Looking once more, the hand-writing seemed like any regular hand-writing, as though the writer had meant for it be nothing special. But it was the opposite. Not at that exact moment though. But soon. Soon, it would be the most important thing in life. In my life.

Day 1

I curled up on the cushion and leaned against the cool glass. My room was warm, or I was. I couldn’t tell. But the cool of the glass against my skin felt nice. I closed my eyes, soaking in the coolness.

For the past few days, I’d been so hot. Fortunately, it’d been cloudy, rainy and cold. I didn’t understand it. One day, I felt perfectly fine, the next, I couldn’t cool myself down. Even just sitting against the window for a few moments didn’t do much. It heated up quickly and the cool of the outside was forgotten.

I sighed and put legs down on the wooden floor. It felt a little warm, too. Everything was now. It was like I couldn’t escape it.

I pushed myself up off the window seat and wandered out of my bedroom. I only wore a long light green shirt that went down to my knees. It was just the right length and thin enough to keep from overheating. It was also just the perfect amount of comfort.

I wandered downstairs and pulled the front door open just a tad. I peeked out and inhaled deeply. Cool, rain-scented air blew in my face, causing my hair to fly around ever so slightly and tickle my shoulders and neck. The cool air taunted me and I couldn’t fight the urge to wander outside onto the front sidewalk.

Rain poured down, soaking me almost instantly. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back. The cold water splattering on my face felt better than any cold glass or freezer did.

But as nice as it felt, I refused to stay out in it for long. I lowered my head and opened my eyes, raindrops rolling down my face. I turned and hurried inside. I went upstairs and changed into dry clothes then headed back downstairs, towel in hand as I dried my hair.

I curled up on the couch after tossing the towel in the dirty clothes and hugged a pillow to my chest as I flicked the T.V. on.

I’d been lying around all day since I knew I was sick with a fever. But it still bothered me when my eyelids started to get heavy. It wasn’t very late at night anyway but I couldn’t fight it.

I blinked my opens and saw a reflection of a young, red-headed woman with light brown eyes looked back at me. Her hair was curling down her back, part of it pulled back into a half ponytail. She wore a light green dress, the sleeves only about three inches long and on the side of her arms, leaving her shoulders bare. The dress, silky and smooth, flowed down to the floor, barely concealing her flat green shoes.

I gasped when I realized the beautiful woman was myself as an older woman stepped up beside me. I looked at her reflection in the mirror then turned my head to really look at her.

“Grandma,” I exclaimed.

She looked up and smiled at me. “You look beautiful, dear. Now all you need is your mask.” She turned her back on me and walked away. Confused, I followed her but only for a few steps before she bent over an oddly placed chair then spun back around. “Here, my dear.” She lifted up something the same color as my dress up to my face. I closed my eyes as something smooth and rather comfy was placed over half of my face.

“Open your eyes.” I did so and my vision was cut off around the edges due to some oddly shaped holes.

“Grandma, why am I wearing this?” I inquired as I reached my hand up and touched the mask, running my fingertips over the smooth surface.

“You’re going to a ball, remember?” She looked slightly concerned before she turned me around and ushered me toward the front door. I didn’t get to look around at my surroundings to see whose house I was in but when the door opened, I realized it was my grandparents’ old house. They hadn’t lived in it since I was just a little girl and I barely remember it at all.

My jaw dropped when I saw a small white limousine sitting outside of the house, a man dressed in a nice black suit standing by the back door. He gave me a kind smile and opened the door, waiting. I felt my grandma give me one last push before I finally moved myself toward the beautiful vehicle. I got into my seat and looked out the window, ready to wave good-bye to my grandma. But I didn’t see her and we were moving too fast for me to try to look for her.

It wasn’t long before we stopped in front of a gorgeous white building. As I stepped out of the vehicle, I saw more of the building and realized it look more like a castle.

A long staircase covered in a smooth, white carpet led up to two open front doors. I followed it up and stepped inside the brightly lit room. A huge crowd of people dressed in beautiful gowns and suits in different shades of a rainbow filled the room.

I started to feel a little overwhelmed when I noticed a big stone statue in the middle of the room I wandered over to it and read the plate at the bottom of it: “Our Guardian Angel”. It was a statue of a beautiful woman with shoulder length hair. She was wearing a long flowing dress and had huge feathered wings surrounding her. Her arms were spread out and she was looking down with the kindest expression I’d ever seen.

As I looked closer, I knew it who it was instantly. But before I could dwell on it much, someone came up and grabbed my arm, tugging on me. I turned and saw a woman with brown hair pulled back into a bun wearing an icy blue dress. She gave me a big smile, as if she knew who I was exactly.

“Um…Hi?” I said, unsure of what else to say. Who was this girl?

“Hi? Just hi? Lianne, don’t you remember me?” the girl questioned. I started to shake my head when she piped up again. “It’s me, Beth! From high school?”

Oh yeah. “Beth! I’m so sorry!”

“Oh, it’s alright. It has been awhile.” She squeezed my hand and suddenly looked more excited than she did just seconds before. “I want you to meet someone. Come with me!” She turned around, holding onto my wrist, and dragged me along behind her.

I stumbled behind her. I tried to look around, to look at all the faces I passed, but everything started to blur into one color around me. I tried to look at the back of Beth’s head but the colors were too blended together. I closed my eyes tightly and hoped that when I opened them, nothing would be a blur anymore.

My eyes popped and I was greeted by a dark ceiling. I lifted my head and saw the T.V. still on, a commercial for some kind of lawn mower blasting nonsense at me. I sighed heavily and reached for the remote when I heard my front doorknob jiggle ever so slightly. I turned to look at it, waiting for a few seconds to see if someone was going to knock.

Nothing happened.

Curiosity got me off the couch and I wandered over to the door. Unfortunately, my door didn’t have a little peephole so I had no idea if someone was there or not. I turned the knob and slowly opened the door. The cold night air greeted me, sending shivers down my spine. That was when I noticed I was hot like I had been the past few days.

I forgot about that as I remembered the reason as to why I was at the open door. I pulled the door open more and poked my head out further. All I could was darkness and a streetlight a few houses down. No one was on my front porch or anywhere near my home. Odd.

I started to close the door when I heard a flap of paper. I looked down and saw a small white piece of paper taped to the knob. I pulled it off and read it.

“Hi.”

Hi? That was it? What kind of a note was that?

I flipped it over, hoping to find more words on it or a name at least. Nothing. The only word on it was hi. Interesting.

I stared at it for a while until I finally closed the door.

2: September 6th

Day 2

I woke the next day feeling better than I had the past few days. But I didn’t want to push myself too much so I stayed in bed a bit longer than normal, trying to think of what to do for the day.

I pushed myself out of bed and took a quick shower to start my day off. I cooked myself some good old-fashioned oatmeal with apple and cinnamon mixed in. I sat on the couch and watched the morning news as I ate. Although, I almost instantly regretted it when all the news reporters talked about were depressing topics. I hurried to finish my meal and clicked the T.V. off.

Wandering upstairs, I changed into a quarter-sleeve gray shirt with black gym shorts. I went to my painting room and picked up an empty canvas, setting it up at the right angle so I could look at it.

I stared at the blank white surface for quite some time, trying to decide what I wanted to paint. I had a creative mind so many landscapes and colors danced across my mind. The difficult part was trying to decide which one I was going to paint at the time.

Finally, a beautiful view full of different colors mixed together in just the right amount stuck in my head. I quickly got all of my paints and brushes prepared as I decided on how to start it.

A few hours later, I finally set the brushes down and stared at my artwork. I had let the brushes and colors flow and work together as much as they wanted to and it had worked out pretty well. I had painted a picture of a sunrise. The bright, almost white, yellow hid behind a small clump of green grass and the light blue shone above it all. It had to be one of my favorite ones I’d done in a while.

I smiled, pleased with myself at doing such a good job. Looking around the room at all of my other masterpieces, I felt my smile grow with my pride. Canvases full of different landscapes, mixed colors and portraits were piled against every wall. They were organized a certain way so that each one could be seen at nearly any angle.

I left the room, closing and locking the door behind me. That painting room was my refuge, my escape from the world. It was one of the few things that I kept my mind from wandering to places I refused to look back on.

Upon entering the kitchen, my stomach almost instantly let out a rather loud growl. I hurried over to the sink and washed the paint off my paints before cooking some pasta for myself. I chopped up some pieces of ham and tossed them in the hot noodles along with some miscellaneous spices. A calm happiness settled over me as I slowly stirred the food around in the pot. I’d always loved cooking. When I’d first take a cooking class in high school, it didn’t seem like something enjoyable. But then I started to find dinner recipes that were easily changeable. After that, I’d come to love it and it had become almost a hobby of mine.

Once I made sure the pasta was done, I put it in a bowl and put the rest away in the refrigerator. Curling up on the couch, I slowly blew on my hot food and watched an old black and white TV show that happened to be on.

Finishing sooner than I anticipated, I wandered back to the sink and washed the dishes. Checking the time in the middle of my task, I saw that it was late afternoon. Hurrying my pace so as not to burn my hands any more in the hot water, I closed the dishwasher and sighed. Finding things to do nowadays was hard, especially since I had no nearby friends or relatives. They all lived hours away or didn’t even exist. I’d had a hard time making friends due to my lack of friendliness, as I liked to call it. It sounded a bit better to me than being called shy.

I stood in the kitchen for quite a few minutes, trying to decide what to do with my life next. Then I remembered something I’d done only weeks ago and hurried to find something to put on my feet. I ended up wearing some white fuzzy slippers that fit perfectly on my feet.

I went outside to the mailbox and pulled the lid down. A few envelopes sat waiting inside. I reached in and pulled them out, flipping through them. I frowned at the names that were obviously not mine – apparently the last owner of the home hadn’t changed their address when they moved. A twinge of disappointment hit me and I mechanically closed the lid of the mailbox, slowly moving back to the house. I flipped the envelopes around once more and stopped when I saw my name on one of them. I quickly ripped it open and unfolded the white papers. I skimmed over the words until I found the part that I was looking for.

A smile lit my face, excitement rushing through me that I tried to hold back in case any neighbors were watching me. Then I remembered that I was out in the open in just basketball shorts and my painted-on t-shirt. A blush rushed to my face and panic hit me hard. I hurried inside, slamming the door shut. I’d always been a bit self-conscious but my lack of a wardrobe made it worse.

I was halfway to the couch when I stopped, realizing that there had been a flap from a paper when I closed the door. I turned toward the door, staring at it a moment as if it could tell me what I’d heard. Setting the mail on a small table directly next to the door, I pulled it open ever so slightly and looked down at the doorknob. Sure enough, a small piece of paper was taped to it, shifting ever so slightly in the cool breeze. I peeled it off and closed the door, reading the words against the white.

Hi again.

My brow furrowed in confusion. That was it? My curiosity peeked ever so slightly. Who was writing these notes? And why? Why were they so short and simple? Why were they writing them to me? I racked my brain, trying to think of anyone in the neighborhood that I knew who would do this. None came to mind.

I glanced at the unfolded piece of paper on the desk next to the door and dismissed the simple note in my hand. I did what I’d done with the last one – crumpled it up and threw it away. Then I picked up the paper I’d so eagerly read before.

I’d been accepted into Westminster College. A smile grew on my face again. I couldn’t wait to tell my father.

3: September 7th

Day 3

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror inspecting myself for far too long. I wore only a white t-shirt underneath a gray zip-up hoodie, blue jeans and white running shoes. My naturally curly, almost crazy, hair was pulled back into a ponytail but the real trouble I was running into was the fact that there were little bumps from my curly hair sticking up on the top of my head.

I scowled at them in my reflection but eventually decided that brushing through it for the fifth time wouldn’t help.

I left the bathroom finally and grabbed my bag, throwing it over my shoulder. I went downstairs to the garage and grabbed my bike after opening the garage door. I rode on the sidewalk, enjoying the cool morning breeze and warm sunlight against my skin. The shade from the trees I rode past blocked out the majority of the sunlight though.

Riding through the neighborhood and past an empty field of green grass and miscellaneous flowers, I arrived in the small city by the name of Fairfield. It seemed as though I had passed through an invisible veil because the city had no greenery in it. It looked like an old deserted town with its little shops all built into what looked to be the same building, all along both sides of the streets.

I parked my bike in front of the nearest gas station. The gas station was practically the grocery store for everyone in the small town since none of the other stores held the items that it did.

I wandered inside and looked around for the items I was in search of.

“Hello, Lianne,” an old woman’s voice reached my ears and I turned to see who it belonged to. The older woman who had spoken was short and a little plump. She had short brown hair and matching brown eyes with a small, kind smile. She stood behind the counter, her nametag sitting proudly on her dark blue shirt. “I haven’t seen ya in while. How are ya?”

The woman’s slight southern accent brought my lips up ever so slightly in a shy smile. “I’m well. How are you, Nina?”

“Same old, same old, as always.” Nina suddenly started waving her hand, looking away. “Don’t mind me. Always distractin’ the customers from their daily routines.”

I only nodded before turning back to find the items I was in need of. I’d run out of some ingredients for some of my favorite meals so I searched around for those. In the end, I set only six items on the counter in front of Nina. She quickly did her job and set me out the door with a “See ya next time, dear.”

I let the handles of the plastic bag hang down from one of the bike handles. As I was turning the large contraption around, I heard a tinkle of laughter from across the empty street. I followed the sound with my eyes and saw a young woman walking with a young man hand-in-hand, both looking at each other and returning cheery smiles. I realized that the woman was Beth from the dream I’d had the other night. I furrowed my brow but shrugged it off as just a coincidence. It wasn’t surprising that I had strange dreams about people from my past that later revealed themselves in life. Not purposefully, of course.

I rode my bike casually down the sidewalk, enjoying the cool midafternoon breeze flying around me. Usually I’d hurry home if I were wearing something like I was but I wasn’t thinking about my attire at the time. I was mostly thinking about how nice it was to finally get out of my house after being stuck inside for nearly three weeks due to a high fever and a cold. It had been a long time since I’d been stuck inside for that long and I hated it.

I parked my bike against the wall in the garage and walked back out onto my driveway, putting in the garage door’s code to close it. As I had turned up toward my house after the half hour bike ride back from town, I’d noticed a piece of white paper hiding the dark doorknob. Knowing instantly what it was, I decided to go through the front door instead of the garage.

As I wandered up to the front door, I thought back on the two notes that I’d already received. I fully expected one quite similar to the last two. Perhaps it would read something along the lines of “Hi again and again” or “Hi for the third time”. Maybe the anonymous writer would change their choice of words to a “Hello” or “Good afternoon”. But I was wrong.

Beautiful day, isn’t it?

I didn’t know what to think of that. I felt as though I should’ve been a little worried or concerned. Had this person seen me leave my home today? Did this person watch me that much to know how often I left home? Or were they just making a casual comment on the weather? I wasn’t sure which one to believe. But, since my curiosity peaked, I decided to go inside and write a quick response on my own piece of paper.

Yes, it is beautiful indeed.

I reread my response only a few times before deciding that it would have to do. What else could I possibly say to a complete stranger? I grabbed a small piece of tape from where I had it organized on one of my counters, stuck half of it on the top of my note and put the other half on the outside doorknob of my front door.

I stood on the inside for a few moments, waiting as if something were going to happen right then and there. But nothing did and I knew that nothing would until later. The notes usually came when I was busying myself with something or was least expecting it.

I went back into the kitchen and put away the few grocery items I’d bought. I glanced around the clean room and noticed that I’d left the college acceptance letter unfolded on my counter. I briefly thought back on last night, trying to remember why I would leave something so important just lying around. Then I remembered the reason I’d had and picked up the home phone. I quickly dialed in a phone number and held the outdated contraption up to my ear.

It rang a quite a few times until going to voicemail. A deep, rumbly voice was heard on the other end indicating who it was and to leave a voicemail. So I did just that then put the phone back on its receiver.

I glanced at the clock on my oven and decided it was getting late anyway. I had slept in longer than I usually did that morning and had gotten to my small to-do list later than I had anticipated. But I had been sick for longer than what was expected so I cut myself some slack.

I decided to do what I’d been doing while sick – change into more comfortable clothes, sit on the couch and watch a good T.V. show.

I realized halfway through the old comedy that I was only half paying attention. My ears would’ve been straight up, listening contently, if I had been a cat or dog. I remembered when I’d received the first note. I had been sitting exactly where I was when the jiggle of the knob at been sounded. I was subconsciously waiting to hear it again apparently.

I shook my head and focused more on the show rather than my surroundings. I didn’t want to get my hopes up too high. I’d done that too much before and had very nearly been let down too many times. This time, I was sure, wouldn’t be any different.

4: September 8th

Day 4

A little after noon when I was nearly finished with all of my daily and weekly chores, I went to go check the mail - one of my few daily chores. I was mildly surprised when I opened the front door to hear a flap of paper. Perhaps I hadn’t been wrong to hope for such a thing the night before. But when I glanced down at the paper taped to the doorknob, my hand already reaching for it, I noticed that it was some sort of invitation. At a closer inspection, it was obviously an invitation of some sort for some neighborhood get-together.

At first, my heart dropped a little. I had been secretly hoping for a response to the note I’d written. How silly I was to think that once I started to hope for something like this, it was easily taken away from me. Then I remembered that I had only received two notes that didn’t give much away. In the back of my mind, I knew why I was eager to receive a response; it was something new, something unexpected. Usually, I’d shy away from something like it but the consistency kept me curious.

It wasn’t until I’d gathered the mail and was making my way back to the house that I realized the neighborhood invitation had been the only piece of paper taped to the knob. Hurrying back over, I practically yanked it off. My note to the anonymous writer was gone. Had the person who’d delivered the invitation stolen it? If so, why would they? It had been a response note. No one else except the anonymous note writer would understand it.

My heart racing, I stepped back inside, glancing back around the empty street before closing the door. My worries intensified as I thought about who could’ve taken the slip of paper. What if the Note Stranger, my new nickname for the anonymous note writer, had taken it? If that was the case, then where was their response? Did this person not want to respond? But if so, why take the note in the first place?

I sighed in frustration. These strange thoughts tossing themselves around in my head was pointless. I shouldn’t have been so worried over something as simple as a note. Nothing personal had been written on it, not even my name. I took a deep calming breath and decided to look through my mail.

It was mostly just miscellaneous letters from the college I’d been accepted into so I tossed the small pile on the counter. But then I noticed one that had familiar hand-writing on it.

As I was just about to reach for it, the phone rang. I jumped and looked at it. I saw my dad’s number flash across the screen before I quickly picked it up and answered with a bright, “Hello?”

“Hey sweetie,” my father’s loud voice crackled into my ear. “Sorry I didn’t answer your call yesterday. I’ve been out of town the past few days on a business trip.”

I rolled my eyes. He always used that excuse for whenever he missed a phone call or two or an event he refused to attend. But I just shrugged it off and continued the casual conversation.

“It’s fine. I’ve been busying myself anyway.”

“Oh really?” His genuine surprise wasn’t unexpected. I wasn’t generally one to be busy very often. But now that I had a place to call my own, I quickly came to find that I ran out of things to do quite easily. “What have you been doing with yourself then?”

“Well, I started painting again,” I said casually.

“Really? My goodness... You haven’t painted in years. You really must be truly bored.” I smiled when I heard the pride and eagerness in my father’s voice. “When can I come visit? I would love to see your newest painting. If it’s finished, of course.”

“You always did find my artwork interesting.” I slowly walked over to the couch and got myself comfortable, knowing that this conversation would most likely be a long one.

“Of course. You have a wonderful talent for seeing the beauty of this ugly world.” I smiled again, shaking my head at his loud compliments. “But seriously. When can I come visit? Clara wants to see you, as well.”

My smile vanished at the name. I still hadn’t fully come to accept her as a part of the family yet. My father had married her only a few months after the incident, knowing her from work or elsewhere. She was a kind lady and had taken the nickname “mother” to heart. I didn’t have bad feelings toward her particularly. I just couldn’t let go of the past.

“Come visit whenever you’d like,” I replied. “Only in the afternoon though. I sometimes tend to sleep in a bit late and I do like to have some time to myself in the evenings.”

My father laughed. “You have more time for yourself than you know what to do with, my dear.” I smiled again, knowing he was right. “Alright. Anytime it is. Hopefully you’ll be home when we stop by.”

“I don’t go out often so you have nothing to worry about.” Then I remembered the letter that had come in the mail just the other day and smiled, knowing how happy my father would be to hear it. “Actually, I think I might be getting out a bit more than usual.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“I got accepted into Westminster College, Dad,” I muttered softly.

“You got-what?!” I winced at his loud exclamation. “When?”

“I just got the acceptance letter the other day.”

“That’s wonderful, Lianne! And it’s perfect for you because it’s so close. You truly are lucky that Grandma and Grandpa Marrison were so willing to let you rent their home.”

“I know.” I reminded myself of this often. If it weren’t for them, I’d still be stuck at home with Clara and my father. Not that it was a bad thing but I was twnty-one years old and I wanted to be out on my own. I wanted to see the world and try to live in it without having to rely on anyone. I wanted a sense of independence that my parents so often talked about.

“We should celebrate this great news,” my father exclaimed. “I’m sure Clara would love to do such a thing. You have no idea how proud of you we are.”

“Dad…” Embarrassment filled my voice at his boasting. “You know I don’t do well at parties. And who in the world would come to such a thing?”

“Oh, I don’t know, your friends?”

“I haven’t made any friends here yet…”

“What?! But you’ve been living there well over seven months.” He paused and I bit my lower lip, knowing I didn’t need to give an explanation. When he spoke again, his tone was serious, “Lianne, you really do need to stop hiding away from the world. How do you expect to survive college?”

He had a point. Attending college meant that I’d have to socialize, especially if I ever had to do a group project. I shuddered at the thought.

“Lianne.”

I sighed in defeat. “I know, I know. It’s just… hard.”

“I know, my dear.” His tone was sympathetic, as per usual whenever we talked about this certain subject. “But you really do need to get over it. You’re old enough to know that hiding away from everything won’t do you any good.”

Getting over something like a death in the family wasn’t easy and he knew it. He’d been in mourning for the first few months after the incident but then had cheered up as he started to see Clara more and more. I wanted to be mad at him for getting over something so quickly but knew somewhere deep in my heart that he still suffered from it as well.

“Well, my dear,” my dad said suddenly, his tone lighter than just moments ago. “I have some things I need to attend to. I have to let you go now. But remember, Clara and I will be stopping by soon. So keep an eye out.”

“I will, Dad,” I responded with a smile. “Love you.”

“Love you too, sweetie.”

After we’d both hung up, I threw my head back and sighed rather loudly. Somehow, after nearly every conversation we had, he got me thinking about one thing or another. This time, it was about how I was going to survive college with my shyness. I never felt very comfortable around strangers and never knew what to say. I was always a bit afraid. I wasn’t entirely sure as to why but when I was with my mother, the shyness never seemed to bother me. She always brought out my outgoing and friendly side, the side that no one else seemed capable of bringing out.

I shuddered once more at the thought of having to face so many people and knowing that I had to voice any questions or concerns to anyone and everyone.

My earlier excitement about taking a rather big step in my life was gone. College was going to be a lot harder than I anticipated.

5: September 9th

Day 5

I sat at my writing desk in the corner of my bedroom, my fingers stilled on the keys. I stared at the screen, my eyes quickly moving back and forth. I shifted and started clicking away.

I’d looked back at the college acceptance letter the night before and had decided to start applying for my classes. School was going to start in just two days, something I had been unaware of. Unfortunately, due to the short amount of time left, there were hardly any good classes. I found at least one of the classes I’d wanted to take but none of the others really caught my eye.

I sighed in frustration and glanced at the alarm clock sitting on the corner of the desk. I’d been sitting in front of this screen for more than two hours, finishing up the last little bit of things I needed to before school started. Why hadn’t I been paying more attention to the timetable I had? And why had that acceptance letter come so late?

I looked through the small amount of options I had once more and clicked one or two more times. When I got stuck again on deciding what other classes I wanted, I groaned and pushed myself away from the desk. I needed to take a break or I’d explode with frustration.

Wandering into the kitchen to grab a snack, my eyes fell on the small pile of mail I’d left on the counter just yesterday. What had gotten into me lately? I never left anything out. I specifically had things organized so I wouldn’t lose anything.

I picked up the unopened envelopes and filed them neatly into one pile. I was about to put them under the ‘unopened mail’ section on a small black rack I had set on the counter when I noticed the top envelope. That familiar writing practically begged for my attention. So I took it out and shoved the rest of the mail where it belonged. I stared at the one in my hands, knowing almost instantly that it was the hand-writing from Note Stranger.

A letter, huh? But why a letter? Why didn’t they just leave a short response to the one note I’d put on my doorknob?

I ripped the closed envelope open and pulled out a small folded piece of paper. I unfolded it and roamed my eyes over the clearly written words.

Miss,

Sorry. I don’t know your name yet. I wish I did but I suppose Miss works.

I’m sure you’re wondering where these little notes came from and who they’re from. If you think I’m a crazy stalker, I promise I’m not. But I don’t blame you for thinking such a thing. I actually wrote another note but then I saw yours and decided to do something different.

If all of this…weirdness bothers you, let me know. I will end it immediately. I just…I’m kind of new to this neighborhood and don’t know anyone. I’ve seen you walking outside to get your mail a few times and you just happened to catch my eye. Okay, that sounds a little weird coming from a complete stranger, I’m sure. But, again, I promise I’m not a stalker.

I was wondering if you’d like to meet sometime…If not, I guess we could just stick to the notes. I don’t mind writing them at all. But you might…Do you? Anyway. If you would like to meet, there’s a small park just up the road northward. I like to sit on the swings most days and just relax, to forget about the world. Meet me there if you would like to meet in person. If you don’t show in the next few days, I’ll understand.

Your Note Writer

My brow furrowed in confusion as I read the letter again. Whoever this was sure liked to ramble on.

When they mentioned the park, I knew instantly which one they referred to. I used to do the exact same thing they did but then I’d gotten sick with that awful cold. I hadn’t been since. Maybe I needed to go again. It would help to get some fresh air instead of going straight back to what I was doing with my laptop.

I put some shoes on and then pulled my hair back into a tight ponytail. As I headed toward the garage, the home phone started ringing. I paused but then turned toward the annoying sound and answered it.

“Hello Lianne dear,” Grandma Marrison’s voice through the phone startled me. She hadn’t called me since just a week after she and my grandpa had left. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? How are you?”

“I’m doing well,” I responded almost mechanically.

“Oh good. How’s the house?”

Of course she’d ask about the house. It was hers. They were just letting me rent it while they travelled, something they did often. “It’s great.”

“You haven’t been leaving your things around the house, have you? You always did have a tendency to do that as a child.”

I clenched my jaw but when I spoke, thankfully, my tone was calm and casual, “Of course not. It’s practically just as you left it.”

“Practically? Lianne, you know I had things a specific way and if you’ve gone and messed it all up-“

“I haven’t. I promise.”

She paused, apparently digesting that and trying to decide to believe me or not. “Fine.” I had the urge to sigh in frustration but fought it, knowing it would only make Grandma more upset with me. “So, have you done anything with your life since moving out?”

My eye twitched. I tried so hard to not dislike the woman but she made it rather hard to do so. “Well, I’ve started to paint again.”

“Paint?” The surprise in her grandmother’s voice pleased her. She’d never really bothered to try to get to know her only granddaughter. This time wouldn’t be any different. “I didn’t know you painted.”

“I use to paint quite often. Mom taught me how and I grew to love it.”

“I see… Painting can be a rather boring past time though. You must not be doing much else if you’ve resorted to that.”

A pang of disappointment hit my chest. Of course she wouldn’t care about my hobbies. “It actually helps with the boredom. But I might not have much time for it anymore for a while.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“I’m starting college on Monday.”

“Really? I thought you weren’t planning to attend college,” Grandma replied with surprise.

“That was Henry,” I told her, referring to my older brother.

“Henry… That’s right. How is he?”

My heart sank. “I don’t know. He hasn’t contacted anyone.”

“Still?” Grandma sounded worried now. “But it’s been years… Does anyone know where he is?”

“No, Grandma.”

“Well, they’re still searching, aren’t they?”

“No. The police called off the search party years ago. We think he’s…”

A pause. Then my grandmother’s voice came again, full of worry, concern and stubbornness, “I will not think of such a horrible thought. To think that you would is terrible, Lianne. He’s your older brother. Certainly you don’t think he’s gone for good.”

“I don’t know, Grandma. I hope he’s not.”

“Hope is not good enough. I know he isn’t.” I knew she was only trying to convince herself. She did this every time Henry came up in a conversation. He was her favorite grandchild. “I have errands to run today, dear. I have to go now. Keep in touch.”

“I will,” I lied. I knew she wouldn’t care if I tried to talk to her more. She only ever called to check and make sure that I was still caring for her house.

I put the phone back on the receiver after she’d hung up. I sighed heavily. How was it every phone call I had with anyone, I either ended up thinking too much or feeling weary?

I wandered back to my room and sat down at the desk, putting my head in my hands as I merely glanced at the screen in front of me.

I hadn’t thought about my brother since before I’d moved into this home. But now that my grandmother had brought him up, I knew he was going to be on my mind for the next little while.

I lifted my head and looked at the screen in front of me. I quickly finished up all the things I needed to for college because I knew it would help keep my mind occupied.

When I closed my laptop, leaning back, my eyes started to drift toward the ceiling. But they got stopped on the open note sitting next to my laptop. I shifted and reread the note from the Note Stranger.

Maybe my father was right. It was time to get over my shyness and make a friend or two. I didn’t like the thought but I knew they were right because it would help me escape from all the things I had to worry about. I hoped.

A few moments later, I was on my bike riding down the sidewalk toward the park mentioned in the note. A slight nervousness settled over me as I slowly kept going. I realized halfway through the ride that I didn’t even know if Note Stranger was male or female. Shouldn’t I know that by now?

I stopped at the corner of a four-way stop, staring straight ahead at the park. Sitting on a swing, their back facing me, was a person. They wore a black hoodie that was hiding their head, blue jeans and sneakers. They seemed to be hunched over but I could see their head shifting, as if they were looking around. They were looking around for me.

My hands gripped the handlebars, my knuckles turning white. My heart pounded in my chest and ears and I was suddenly unable to breathe. But when I saw the stranger start to turn around, to face me, I lost it. I turned my bike around sharply and hurried home. Once safely inside, the garage door shut behind me, I leaned against the wall, gasping for air.

What had just happened? What had come over me? I hadn’t even seen the persons’ face and had instantly overreacted.

I sighed heavily. What was wrong with me? Would I always be this scared? 

6: September 10th

Day 6

The park was just ahead of me, empty and peaceful-looking. I slowly walked over to it, half-expecting for the hooded figure from yesterday to appear. But they never did, even as I sat on the swing next to the one I’d seen them sitting on.

I sighed contently and started swinging my legs back and forth. As I slowly started to go higher, I threw my head back and closed my eyes, enjoying the relaxing motion.

In the next instant, I heard the swing beside me squeak. I slammed my bare feet into the wood chips, not feeling any pain. I came to a hard, fast stop and jerked my head to the right, to where the other swing was placed. The hooded figure sat there, slowly moving his swing back and forth.

“Um… Hi?” I mumbled, watching the person. They glanced at me and I saw that their face was unearthly pale and their eyes were pitch black. They suddenly jumped off the swing, grabbed me by my hair and threw me on the ground. I rolled over and froze, seeing a gun pointed right at my heart. I opened my mouth to plead with them or scream – I wasn’t sure which I’d do first.

But I never got a chance to. The sound of a gunshot went off and everything went black.

I jumped into a sitting position, gasping for air. I frantically looked around and found that I was in my bedroom. I calmed myself down and glanced at the clock. Six in the morning? Why had I woken up so early? Then I realized that my alarm clock was silent. I glanced around saw that my room was lit up with sunlight filtering through my window blinds.

I suppose nerves was the main thing that woke me up. I couldn’t stop thinking about that letter from Note Stranger and then seeing someone at the park. The more I thought about it, the more I knew I’d totally overreacted. How did I know that it was Note Stranger and not someone else? Plenty of people went to the park.

I sighed and threw the covers off my legs, deciding to get up and get ready for the day ahead. A while later, I was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at my bowl of cereal. I tried to take a bite but nerves kept me from doing so. I knew that if I tried to eat right now, I’d lose whatever I shoved down my throat.

Glancing at the clock, I saw that it was near ten o’clock. Would the stranger from yesterday be at the park this early? Well, if he wasn’t, then I could sit on the swing for as long as I wanted and not be disturbed for a while since school was in session. Unless Note Stranger decided to show up.

I shook my head. No, I was going to do it. My father was right. It was time I stopped hiding away and finally put myself out there. One friendship couldn’t hurt, right?

After a few more minutes of mulling over this, I got up and dumped my bowl of cereal before going outside. I decided to ditch my bike and walk to the park.

Fall was just beginning. A cool breeze had hit the small neighborhood just a few days ago and the tips of leaves were starting to change colors. I’d always loved fall and the cooler weather it brought along with all the beautiful colors.

I finally arrived at the park and let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. The park was empty. A smile lit myself as I sat down on my swing, the swing next to the one the stranger had chosen the day before.

The dream I’d had came to my mind and I felt almost tempted to swing as high as I did. But then the rest of the dream came back and I decided against it.

Birds chirping far above my head caused me to look up. I watched a small flock of them fly by, painted against the blue of the sky. As I watched them, I noticed that there were no clouds in the sky. That meant no more rain storms like we’d been having the past few days. Hopefully.

The sound of crunching woodchips caught my attention and I froze. The sound was getting closer. Someone was coming closer. My mind screamed for me to run but I stayed. A small part of me wondered if it was Note Stranger or if my dream was going to come to life. Having my dreams come to life wasn’t too strange. It had happened before.

Then the swing next to me squeaked as someone sat on it. My heart started beating faster in my chest but I tried to keep my cool, even as my grip on the chains holding the seat tightened.

I waited a few minutes for the person to say something but when they never did, I stole a glance at them. It was a young man. He had dark brown mussed hair and an ever so slight tan. His eyes were downcast so I couldn’t see their color but the forest green of his T-shirt with the blue jeans and black tennis shoes looked rather good on him.

I turned my head more and watched him. He kept his head bent slightly and his eyes downcast. His brow was furrowed as if he was thinking about something.

Wondering if he even realized I was there, I mumbled, “Hi…” but almost regretted it. He looked at me, eyes wide. Why did he look so surprised? Did he really not notice me when he walked over?

I realized I was staring at him after a moment and jerked my head away, blushing. I could still feel his eyes on me and waited for him to respond to my quiet greeting. But only silence greeted me and I felt almost irritated. Glancing at him again, I saw him watching me. This time though, he didn’t look thoughtful or surprised. He looked worried, almost concerned.

I had to say something since he obviously wasn’t going to. But when I was about to voice a question, I heard a deep, soft rumble. Realizing he was talking, I tuned in, focusing my mind on his words.

“…Bryant.” Darn. I’d missed what he had said. I didn’t know someone could be so quiet. Then again, I hadn’t really had any friends since elementary school and I only talked to some of my family members who were just naturally loud.

“I’m sorry,” I spoke, probably just as quietly. I saw his head lean toward me slightly and I tensed. Deciding I didn’t want him to come closer, I spoke louder, “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear what you said.”

I swear I saw disappointment flash across his face before it went back to that worried look.

“My name is Derek Bryant,” he said, his voice a bit louder than before.

I waited for him to say more but he didn’t. This was so weird and awkward. “I’m Lianne Carter.” A small smile lit his face as I spoke. I noted surprise in his eyes and wondered why he seemed so surprised whenever I spoke. “So, um…” I winced inwardly. I was never good at speaking to strangers, let alone men. But I took a breath and tried again. “So, what are you doing here?”

I watched him as I spoke this time. The surprised died down a bit but by the end of my sentence, it was gone and replaced with concern. What was wrong with this guy?

“I, uh, um…” He stumbled over his words then looked away, sighing in frustration. His face started to redden and I realize he was flustered. But why? When silence greeted me again, I decided to welcome it. I wasn’t going to be the one to talk the whole time and I had questions. Like who was this guy and why was he talking to me? And what was with all of his surprise and concern whenever I spoke to him? “The notes are mine.”

Wait. What?

My eyes widened as I digested his words. The notes were his? This man was Note Stranger? A feeling of excitement started to rush through me. I finally knew who Note Stranger was. I didn’t have to call him that anymore. I thought for a moment. Derek the Note Writer. It seemed to fit pretty well.

I felt someone watching me again and I looked at Derek to see him watching my face. I started to blush but then worry overcame me. Was something on my face? I moved my hand to my cheek but then saw that his eyes were focused on mine. He was watching my expressions, I realized.

“You’re Note Stranger?” I asked. Then shook my head and mumbled, “I mean, the note writer. The person that keeps writing the notes and leaving them on my doorknob.” Ugh. Why did I have to suck so badly at talking normally with strangers?

I noticed him smile again, a small smile but still. A smile was a smile. He had a really good smile though and I liked how it lit up his face. He needed to smile more.

I blinked. That was a strange thought.

“You have a nickname for me?” he inquired. I blushed and nodded. His smile grew and I noticed a spot on his cheeks move inward. Oh my goodness. He had dimples. And they were adorable.

I blinked again. What was with these thoughts I was having?

“I have a nickname for you, too,” he said. He did? I looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to speak again. “Mail Girl.”

“What?” I asked, shocked. That was the weirdest nickname I’d ever heard. Mail Girl? What kind of a nickname was that?

He smile faltered, the concern coming back into his eyes. “Yeah… I, uh… The first time I saw you, you were getting your mail. I just started calling you Mail Girl because most of the time I see you, you’re getting your mail.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Then the letter he’d given me and how he asked for me not to think of him as a stalker came to my mind. I couldn’t help but think that perhaps he really was a stalker. I mean, who watched someone every day get their mail? It was a bit odd.

“You think I’m a stalker,” he pointed out, voicing my thoughts. My eyes widened at how spot on he was. Was he a mind reader too? Then I saw his expression – sadness and disappointment. What was with this guy and all of his dark expressions?

“Only slightly,” I told him. He glanced at me doubtfully. I sighed, deciding to voice my thoughts. Why? I have no idea. “I just think it’s a bit strange that you watch me get my mail every day.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, guilt in his voice. “I don’t know why I do. Maybe because it’s something different?”

I nodded. I understood what he meant. When the notes started to arrive, they came out of the blue. I used to have a set schedule but they threw me out of it.

“If you want me to stop, I will,” Derek said.

“Stop what? The notes or watching me every day through your windows?” His lips twitched but his expression was still full of disappointment.

“Yeah, you think I’m a stalker…” he said, barely above a whisper.

“Well, who wouldn’t?” I instantly wished the words back. His expression darkened and his mouth set in a grim line, all hints of his dimples and smiles gone.

Why had I said such a thing? He’d already said that but I had relieved him of it, even if it was slight. I screamed in my mind, wondering how I could be so stupid.

He stood up abruptly. “I’m sorry. I won’t bother you anymore.”

As he started to quickly walk away, a part of me wanted to run after him. He could possibly become a friend. I liked the thought of that but also feared from it. I hadn’t had a friend in years. What would it be like?

But that part of me that was so fearful won out and I sat on the swing, watching him go.

7: September 11th

Day 7

I nibbled on my bottom lip nervously, clutching to one of my shoulder straps that hung over my shoulder. I waited behind a woman slightly older than me who was speaking to the secretary behind the counter in a quiet voice, too quiet to overhear. I glanced out the window that showed the commons area. Other college students walked around, some stopping and talking to others. They all looked ready for the hardship ahead, seemingly mature enough to handle it.

I felt so small and immature compared to all of them. I was only twenty-one years old whereas the majority of them looked like they were in their late twenties.

I blinked and jumped slightly as the older woman who was once in front of me in line walked past, momentarily blocking my view of the window. I watched her go then slowly stepped up to the counter. A short woman who looked to be the same age as the one who’d just left smiled kindly at me from her seat behind the counter, looking as professional as any other secretary would.

“Hi, how can I help you?” she inquired kindly.

“Um, yes…” I mumbled. “I was wondering if I could get a map of the school.”

A feeling of stupidity fell over me as I noticed a flash of disbelief cross her eyes. Then the kindness returned and she nodded, turning in her seat slightly.

“Are you new here?” she asked, handing me two pieces of paper stapled together a moment later.

“Kind of,” was the only response I gave her. Quickly thanking her for her time, I turned on my heel and hurried out. Once I was out of range of the front offices, I glanced down at the map in my hand then unfolded my class schedule that I’d shoved in my pants pocket. I didn't particularly want anyone else noticing how utterly lost I looked.

Within just a few moments, I found my first class and slowly walked in. Only a few other students sat in the large stadium-like room. Down below, I saw a man writing something on the large board. Thankfully he was writing it big but I didn’t even want to try to squint. So I walked down the stairs and sat on the third row, a few seats in from the front. I set all of my things on the ground beside me, dug through my backpack and pulled out a pen and a notebook. Glancing at the board, I started to write down everything the professor was writing.

A few minutes before class started, I noticed someone come and stand at the end of the long table. I glanced up from my notes and saw Derek Bryant standing there, that worried and concerned expression on his face.

“Is anyone sitting here?” he whispered, pointing at the seat next to mine. I silently shook my head and watched him sit down in it.

I felt a bit nervous that he dared to sit so close to me. Then wondered why he even did. I’d hurt him just yesterday. It had been so obvious. Was he trying to make a friend but having a hard time with it like I was? I didn’t dwell on it much because in the next moment, the professor started lecturing.

But about halfway into the lecture, I noticed Derek slide his notebook toward me. I tried to ignore it but he slid it closer until it bumped mine. I turned to glare at him but then noticed words on the paper. It was the same hand-writing as the ones that were on the notes I’d received. No doubts about it now - he truly was Note Stranger.

I’m sorry for how I acted yesterday. I’m not very good at talking to strangers.

My mouth opened slightly. That sounded like something I would say. I stared at it a moment, stunned. Was I truly certain he wasn’t a mind reader? Maybe I should ask him.

I glanced up and met his eyes. I remember trying to sleep the night before but being unable to for the longest time. I had been trying to remember the color of his eyes. I still didn’t understand why that small detail about him bothered me.

Gray blue. His eyes were gray blue. They fit him perfectly.

I realized he was waiting for some kind of response from me. The worry on his face deepened and I quickly reached my hand over, scratching my response across the page below his with my pen.

No, I should be apologizing. What I said was rude and unacceptable. I’m truly sorry.

I went back to my note-taking, but not before stealing a glance at Derek. He was reading my response. After a second, a small smile lit his face, the worry etched on it gone.

I’d only gotten a page into more notes before he slid his notebook back over again. This time it wasn’t as gentle. It knocked against mine, causing me to scribble a line across the words I’d just written. I heard a quiet gasp beside me and looked at Derek to see his eyes wide, staring at my notes. He looked scared and even more so when his eyes met mine.

I gave him a reassuring smile. It wasn’t like I couldn’t rewrite them. They were still on the board. I stole a glance at the front of the room to see the professor moving across the board, writing even more notes as he spoke. So why did Derek seem so scared?

As I looked all of the notes on the board, I knew I should’ve been paying more attention but I somehow knew that if I didn’t respond to Derek, or at least read his response, he’d become worried all over again.

It’s okay. I understand. I guess I just have to agree with the fact that I’m a creepy stalker that likes to stare out my front window. Maybe I’m secretly an old man – always standing by the window, staring out as I think about the long life behind me.

I smiled. He was trying to make a joke. It wasn’t too bad but it seemed more like an observation.

I glanced up at him. He met my gaze again and relief filled his eyes, returning my smile with one of his own.

For the rest of the long class period, I scribbled down all of the notes as the professor lectured on. At the end, I decided I wouldn’t like World History 1010. In high school, I’d loved learning about history, but for some reason, this professor made me dread it.

I gathered all of my items and put them neatly back into my bag before standing and throwing one of the straps onto my shoulder. I turned to leave but walked into something. Or someone. I looked up and saw Derek looking down at me, his lips twitching. Was he trying not to laugh at me?

I blushed when I realized how close I was to him and took a big step back, looking away.

“Excuse me,” a man called out. I looked toward the voice and saw the professor standing in front of his desk, staring up at me. “I would like a word with you, miss.”

Confused, I moved around Derek and made my way over to the professor.

“Yes sir?” I inquired, looking at him. He was an older gentleman with greying hair and wrinkles. He wore black-rimmed glasses that were pushed too far up his nose, causing his brown eyes to look a bit bigger than they probably were. He was just an inch or so taller than me but was pretty slim. The look he was giving me sent a chill down my spine, intimidating me more than just his appearance did.

“I noticed you and your friend there…” he jerked his head behind me and I glanced over my shoulder. Derek was watching me from the stairs but when he noticed me glance back at him, he ducked his head and hurried out of the classroom. I looked back at the professor as he continued speaking, “…conversing with each other. Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever taken any college classes here but I will warn you that I do not like it when students ignore my lectures. I’ve had too many fail my exams. You seem like a smart girl and I wouldn’t want the same to happen to you. So don’t let it. Are we clear?” I only nodded. “Good.” He sounded very pleased with himself. “You are dismissed.”

He bent over his desk and started scribbling on some scattered papers.

I stared at him a moment then turned and hurried out of the room. I was most definitely not going to like that class.

“I’m sorry I got you in trouble,” Derek’s voice caught my attention as soon as I exited the room and started to walk down the hallway. I stopped and turned, seeing him standing near the wall. His expression was dark with worry as he watched me.

“You didn’t get me in trouble,” I replied. “That guy is just a jerk.”

His lips twitched for a second. “You’d better hope he didn’t hear you.”

“With how big that room is, I doubt he did.”

A small smile came to his face and he seemed to lift himself up, as if a big burden had been taken off his shoulders.

“To be honest, I don’t like him much either,” he told me as we walked side-by-side down the huge hallway. “I’ve had him before and he’s not a nice man.”

“I noticed,” I replied. For some strange reason, I was starting to feel comfortable with Derek. And I’d just met him yesterday. But what surprised me the most was how much I was willing to say around him. I wasn’t much of a talker unless I was really close with someone. But this boy… This note writer made me forget almost entirely of how shy I was. How did he do it?

“What’s your next class?” I heard him ask.

“Uh, Math 1010,” I mumbled.

He was quiet for a moment and I glanced up at him to see if he was even going to respond. “Are all of your classes 1010?”

I shook my head. “Most but not all. Why?”

“Is this your first year of college?” I blushed and nodded. One side of his lips lifted into a smirk. Amusement danced in his eyes, surprising me. I usually just saw concern, worry, surprise or disappointment in his expressions. This was completely different. “Hm.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He looked away but the smirk seemed glued to his face as we continued down the hallway.

What was up with this guy? He was unlike anyone I’d ever known. How was I supposed to be friends with someone that kept my head practically spinning?

I guess the only way to find out was to try to get to know him more. I held back a shiver. The thought of it scared me but I was going to do it. If not only for myself, then for my father. He was the one that wanted me to make some friends, not me.

8: September 12th

Day 8

My hand was itching horribly. Not in the way where I had to scratch it. It wanted to hold a paintbrush and work its magic. Especially since I was stuck in an art room, paintings scattered around the walls.

My professor was lecturing about the history of art, practically reading it from the textbook. The classroom wasn’t as big as my World History one was. But more people were sitting around me. Fortunately, none sat next to me and I didn’t have to interact with any of them.

Derek wasn’t in this class but I didn’t mind. I was in a place I felt safe, sort of. It was a class I had been looking forward to but it would’ve been better if there were hardly anyone else in it. I hoped the moment I stepped into the classroom that the professor wouldn’t mention any group projects but I wouldn’t be surprised if there was one in the future. Those type of things just happened to come with the subject.

“Alright students,” a female voice broke through my thoughts and I focused my attention on the professor as she slowly stood straighter, looking at all of us in turn. “Your first assignment is due in two weeks. You all must draw, in pen or pencil, it doesn’t matter, a portrait of someone close to you. Whether it be a family member, friend, spouse, etc. I don’t care.

“But you must have their facial structure down. What I mean by that is the shape of their face, their nose, mouth, eyes and even ears. If they have freckles, draw them. If they have moles, draw them. It can be a side view or a forward-facing view. You can’t go any lower than the collarbone. If they have any jewelry on their face or ears, add it in.

“Remember, it’s due in two weeks. You’re lucky I’m giving you that much time. With my last class, it was due the following class period.”

Everyone nodded and when she dismissed us all, I got up and walked over to her. A few other students moved the same way and I tensed but stepped up to the desk first. She glanced up at me after bending over her textbook, waiting for me to speak.

“Um, I just have a quick question,” I mumbled, tensing more as I noticed the other students standing so close to me. “What are we going to be graded on for this assignment?”

“I had the exact same question,” a female voice came from behind me.

“If you get all the details,” the professor sighed, sounding impatient. “Remind me next time to tell you all that you must bring a picture of the person you drew. They don’t have to be exact but at least similar and recognizable. That’s all I’m really looking for.”

I quickly nodded, spun around and hurried out of the room.

A portrait? Of someone close to me? Who the heck was I supposed to draw? I could draw my father but I wasn’t sure when he was going to visit. He said that he would but that was a few days ago. I hadn’t heard from him yet nor seen him. I could draw my mother. I did have a picture of her, too.

I nodded, deciding that would work. I looked up and stopped right outside the glass doors. Rain was pouring down, making a giant puddle on the ground. I glanced over at the bike rack and saw my bike, the only one there, soaking wet. I knew that if I rode home in that I would get sick with another cold. I couldn’t afford to get sick now that I was in school. So how was I supposed to get home?

“Hey Lianne.” I turned around and saw Derek walking toward me, that small smile on his face again. “Headed home?”

“Yeah,” I sighed, looking back out at my soaking bike. I noticed him stop beside me and look outside. “I guess I’m riding my bike in that.” I glanced up at the dark sky, already dreading the ride home. I hated the rain as it was but even being out in it for a few minutes caused memories I didn’t really want to think about to come back.

“You’re riding your bike in that?” Derek asked, shocked.

I looked at him and nodded. “I have to. It’s my only transportation.”

He started shaking his head even before I finished my sentence. “No it’s not. I drove my truck. We can put your bike in it and I can drive you home. It’s dumping out there.”

My eyes widened. I was going to be in a car? In the rain? The thought petrified me, memories flashing before my eyes.

“Lianne?” I blinked and saw Derek looking at me with concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m riding my bike, Derek, and you can’t stop me,” I blurted out. Before he could protest, I shoved the glass doors open and ran out to my bike. I pulled the other shoulder strap of my bag onto my shoulder and undid my bike lock. I turned it and started to climb on when I noticed Derek standing in front of me, worry written on his face.

“I’m not letting you ride home in this storm, Lianne. You’ll get sick.”

“You just met me two days ago. You don’t know me at all so if I get sick, you won’t know and probably won’t care.” Hurt was obvious in his eyes and I felt bad. But I needed to stay away from his truck. If that meant hurting him then so be it. I was not getting into any vehicle any time soon, especially in the rain.

Pushing past him, I hopped onto my bike and quickly rode home, the rain nearly blinding me. I could hear Derek calling after me but I ignored him, increasing my speed.

Once I was safely inside, I set my bag down in my room. Right as I did so, lightning flashed, lighting up the whole sky and my room.

I knew I wasn’t going to sleep well that night.

…

The sky was dark and rain was pouring down, making the windshield blurry. The car came to a stop on the side of the road and I hopped out, closing the door behind me and waving at the person inside.

I watched the car slowly drive away then stop at a stop sign. I started to turn away, to hurry inside the house, when I saw the car slowly move away from the stop sign. Then I heard the squeal of tires and watched as another car slammed into the one I’d just exited.

I shouted out in fear but couldn’t get myself to move. The cars skidded across the road until hitting the stop sign. No one exited the car. In fact, there was no movement inside either of the cars.

I wanted to run to the car I’d left. I wanted to rip the door open and check on the person inside. I wanted to do something. But my limbs wouldn’t cooperate and I stood there until red and blue lights flashed around me. It wasn’t until two dark figures appeared in front of me, blocking my view of the cars. One of the figures reached down for me and that’s when the full realization of what had happened hit me.

I fell to the ground and sobbed.

I woke up to tears soaking my pillow. I glanced at the clock. Only one in the morning. I sighed and rolled onto my back, staring up at the ceiling.

Memories I didn’t want to relive flashed in my mind and my vision blurred, a few tears rolling down into my hairline.

I would never escape these memories, no matter how hard I tried.

9: September 13th

Day 9

I coughed into my shirt sleeve and sighed after pulling back. That ride home yesterday had been bad on my health. I hadn’t been able to fall back asleep after that nightmare and realized I had a fever when I had been getting ready for school. I dressed in warmer clothes, which weren’t really needed. Fall was just starting to make itself known by sending a slightly cold breeze into town. But with how warmly I’d dressed that day, I didn’t notice it as I rode my bike to school.

I walked into my world history class and noticed the professor scowl at me as I took my seat, the same one as last time. After I pulled out my notebook and pen, I folded my arms and rested my head on them as it pounded.

“Hey sleepy.” I jerked my head up and saw Derek standing next to me, putting his bag on the back of his chair. I let out a groan as the pounding in my head worsened at the sudden movement then dropped it back down on my arms. “Are you okay?” I didn’t respond. I didn’t want to let him know how right he’d been yesterday when I’d refused to let him give me a ride. “You’re sick.”

I bit my lip but nodded against my arms. “I always get sick whenever I go out in a storm.”

“Is it a cold?” He sounded truly concerned and I couldn’t figure out why. We’d only known each other for a few days. He shouldn’t care that much yet or at all.

Before I could respond though, the professor started the lecture. I sat up and started scribbling down notes, ignoring the looks that I knew Derek was sending me. Near the end of the lecture, a notebook slid toward mine. It stopped only a centimeter away from my own and when I glanced at it, I saw that all-too familiar hand-writing – Derek’s hand-writing.

Anything I can do to help you feel better?

I looked up at him but he was looking at the professor, seeming as though he were listening intently. I couldn’t help but smile as I reached over and scribbled my response.

That’s sweet of you but no. I’ll just suffer through it.

Quickly going back to my notes after glancing at the professor to see him eyeing me suspiciously, I didn’t see Derek’s reaction. I didn’t get the chance to talk to him after class either because the professor called me up to his desk again.

“I don’t know your name, nor do I care to, but this little...” As the man struggled for the right words, his hand waved around spastically. “…thing going on between you and that boy needs to stop. If you can’t focus then don’t bother showing up to my class.”

My jaw dropped at his words. He looked at me dismissively before I turned around and left the room. What was with that guy?

“Lianne.” I didn’t stop nor look up. I was too worried about what was going to happen to my grade in that class. And it was only the second day. “Lianne, stop.” I finally did and turned around then jumped back. Derek was standing behind me, closer than I thought he was. “What happened back there?”

I shook my head and started to walk away again. I didn’t want to talk about it. And why should he care? It wasn’t like we were the best of friends. And he didn’t need to know every little thing that went on in my life.

As I kept walking, I heard him sigh but didn’t hear him follow me.

I walked out to my bike and unlocked the chain then pulled it away from the rack. One glance up at the sky and I knew that this cold I had wouldn’t be going away any time soon.

I hopped on my bike and sighed in frustration. How was I supposed to attend my classes if I was sick? I knew with this horrible weather I was only going to get worse and I couldn’t afford to do that. Even though I already had a professor that seemed to hate me, I was starting to enjoy my first year of college. But of course, something had to go wrong.

…

I sat curled up on the couch with one of my favorite movies on, a warm blanket covering my legs. I held a steaming mug of hot chocolate in my hands, blowing softly on it every now and then.

My nose was so stuffed up I had to breathe through my mouth. I was wearing warm pajamas but still felt cold, knowing I was running a fever. I could hear the rain pouring down outside whenever a quiet part came on during the movie. Once I’d gotten home, the downpour had started. I dreaded tomorrow, knowing I’d have to ride my bike in the rain once more.

When a part of the movie came on that had quiet music and nothing else playing, I heard my front doorknob jiggle. I glanced over at it and saw a shadow moving on the closed blinds, the outside light showing that someone was out there.

I bent down and set my hot chocolate on the floor then got up and went to the door. Pulling it open, I heard a flap of paper. My eyes moved toward it but then shot upward when I realized that someone was standing on my front porch.

“Derek,” I said, shocked. Why was he standing on my porch so late at night? Especially after leaving the note on my doorknob. Usually he’d run off after putting it on there. But the more I looked at him, the more I noticed that he was soaking wet. He seemed to shiver even as he stood there. “Come in.” I pulled the door open wide, stepping aside to give him some room.

As he walked in, I glanced down at the piece of paper taped to my knob. I noticed the familiar hand-writing and pulled it off before closing the door. My eyes skimmed over the words once then twice. I glanced up at Derek at one point and saw him watching me, looking embarrassed. Then my eyes moved back to the paper in my hand one more time.

I’m sorry you got sick. Next time, you should let me drive you home. I promise I won’t bite. Or kidnap you.

A giggle escaped my mouth suddenly as I read it that last time. I looked up at him again and saw him grinning, his dimples starting to show.

“You went out in the rain just to deliver this?” I asked him seriously, lifting the paper up as I spoke. “You could’ve just told me that at school tomorrow.”

“I don’t have any classes with you tomorrow though,” he told me, sounding almost disappointed.

“True, but still. You yourself could get sick.”

He shrugged. “I don’t get sick much. That and I wanted to come check on you in person instead of waiting until next class period.”

I shook my head then walked over to the kitchen and put the note with the other ones that I’d saved. “Did you want some hot chocolate?”

“I’d love some,” came his reply. I glanced over at him to see that he hadn’t moved.

“You can take your jacket off and come sit in the kitchen.”

His eyes widened and he suddenly looked embarrassed again. He quickly undid his jacket and draped it over the couch. I noticed he put it on the opposite side of where I’d been sitting, that he’d even paused before taking a few steps further into the house before setting it down.

He wandered into the kitchen and took a seat at the table. I quickly made another mug of hot chocolate and gave it to him. Then I went and grabbed mine before joining him at the table.

“This is great,” Derek said, a small smile on his lips. “I haven’t had hot chocolate in years.”

“Really? I make it every time I get the chance,” I replied as I inhaled the sweet aroma of the hot beverage in my hands.

“I might just have to come over more often.” I stared at him, watching his smile grow. But I could see a bit of uncertainty in his eyes. “If you don’t mind, of course.”

I watched him intently over my hot chocolate. After a moment of staring, I realized he was waiting for me to respond. Blushing, I shook my head. “I don’t mind.” I bit my lip as I debated voicing a question that was swimming around in my head. “Why did you come here? I mean, it’s really late and…” I didn’t finish, letting him try to figure out what I meant.

“I told you I came to check on you,” he told me, his smile softening.

“I don’t understand...” My voice came out barely above a whisper.

“Well, isn’t that what friends do? Check up on each other?”

I blinked. Friends? Were we friends? I barely even knew him. And we didn’t hang out much, if at all. Yes, we talked to each other in world history, our only class we shared. But it was brief and wasn’t about anything specific. So how could he sit there and call me a friend? He didn’t even know my favorite color.

“Lianne?” His worried voice brought me out of my thoughts and I realized I hadn’t answered his question.

“I…” I struggled to think of the right thing to say and noticed his increasing discomfort. I decided to tell him the truth. “I don’t really know… I’ve never had a friend. Well, not in a long time anyway.”

“Really? Me either.” I looked at him incredulously.

Him? Derek Bryant had never had a friend before? That surprised me. Yes, he’d seemed very shy when we’d met but since then, he’d practically been a chatterbox.

He looked away, suddenly uncomfortable. “I moved when I was eight and the situation I was in at that time didn’t allow for me to get out much. The only time I did was school but I didn’t talk to anyone. I was… too shy, I guess.”

That made sense. He was a very shy person until you tried to get to know him.

Deciding that the mood had gotten a bit dark, I asked him a question that I hoped would lead to many more. “What’s my favorite color?”

He looked at me and blinked. “I don’t know...” I couldn’t help but let out a giggle at his utterly confused expression.

“Exactly,” I replied as I set my mug down on the table. “So you’ll have to guess.”

Understanding dawned in his eyes and he leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful. “Is it... orange?” I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling and didn’t say a word. I was going to have some fun while I had the chance. “White?” My lips twitched. “Violet!” I shook my head, unable to hold the smile back any longer. “Pink?”

I rolled my eyes. “You’d think so since I’m a girl but no.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Brown.” I wrinkled my nose and shook my head. “Green?”

“Finally,” I sighed. “I thought you were going to guess that at the beginning since it’s a basic color.”

“Oh yeah.” I let out another giggle and he suddenly grinned, his eyes dancing with amusement. Then he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, meeting my gaze. “Alright, my turn. What’s my favorite color?”

I looked at him searchingly, tapping my forefinger on my bottom lip. “Green.” He smirked and shook his head. “We’re not so very common, are we?” His smirk grew but he said nothing. “What about scarlet?” He grimaced. “Burgundy?”

“I don’t even know what that is.”

I rolled my eyes but continued guessing. “Gray.” He shook his head. “Blue?” Another shake. “Red?”

“Took you long enough,” he finally said. I scowled at him and he chuckled.

A sudden boom of thunder made me jump. I looked over at the kitchen window and then my eyes landed on the stove clock. My eyes widened at the time and I looked back at Derek.

“I guess I should get going,” he muttered.

“Yeah,” I responded. “I have a class early in the morning.”

He nodded and stood. I quickly followed him out into the living room then watched him go open the front door. He pulled his jacket on and glanced back at me from the front steps.

“Get better, Lianne,” he said quietly, seriously. Then he pulled his hood over his head and vanished into the cold, rainy night.

10: September 14th

Day 10

I sighed in frustration, dropping the pile of photos in my hand on the table in front of me. The photos slid and scattered across the wooden surface and I just stared at them, my mind working furiously. My eyes skimmed over all of them once more as I pushed my hand through my hair.

“What’s all this for?” I jumped at the voice and spun around. Derek sauntered over to my side, dropping his bag on the floor behind a chair. He leaned closer to the library table, his eyes roaming over all of the pictures.

“It’s for an art project,” I sighed, looking back at the mess. I glanced at the big box on the floor and bent over, pulling out a big photo album. I dropped it on the table and started flipping through the pages.

“Who’s this?” I heard him ask. I glanced over and saw a picture in his hand. It was a photo of a young woman with brown hair standing on a beach, her eyes covered with black sunglasses, a wide smile on her face. A little red-headed baby girl was wiggling her arms, her mouth open in a bright smile as she stared up the woman’s face.

I pressed my lips together as I stared at the photo. When I felt Derek’s eyes on me, I looked away. “That’s me and my mom.”

“She was very pretty,” he mumbled after a moment’s pause. “And you were very cute.” I glanced at him again and saw him grinning. I blushed then turned back to the photo album. “So what kind of project is it?”

I pushed out a breath, putting my hands on the table and leaning on them. My eyes roamed over all of the pictures once more. They were all pictures of my mother and myself or my brother Henry when we were younger. My father had wanted to be a professional photographer once upon a time and had practiced with his family. None of us seemed to mind. We rather adored all of the attention.

“I have to draw a portrait of someone close to me,” I told him. “I don’t have many pictures of my dad since he was the one that took all of these. And I would ask him if he could come over so I could draw him but he lives a few hours away and I don’t want to bother him with something so small. I don’t have much other family nearby so I just decided to draw my mom.”

“Why haven’t you asked her instead of using a photo?” he inquired.

I bit my lip, hard. Closing my eyes, I just shook my head and said quietly, “I can’t. I have no way of getting a hold of her.”

There was a pause before Derek spoke again, “Does she live far away, too?”

“I guess you could say that.” I sighed as my eyes started to sting, hating the sudden topic we were on.

“Sounds like a lonely life.”

I shook my head, giving him a sad smile. “You have no idea.”

I felt him watching me but I couldn’t face him. I knew that if I did, I’d lose my composure, something I didn’t want to do in front of my new friend.

“So who’s the little boy in the pictures?” Derek asked, trying to change to subject. I would’ve been grateful but I knew where it would lead.

“That’s my older brother Henry,” I told him, looking at one of the photos that happened to be my favorite. Henry was only fifteen at the time it was taken, making me five. I had chocolate pudding all over my face, grinning as I looked at the camera. Henry was holding me even though I was covered in the gooey mess, his lips plastered to my cheek. A small smile touched my lips as I stared at the photo.

“He looks quite a bit older than you.”

“He’s older by ten years.” I glanced at Derek to see his reaction. His gray-blue eyes were wide as he looked at me. “Mom and Dad weren’t planning on having another child. But Henry started asking for a sibling at one point and they tried to have children again. It wasn’t until four years later that I was born.”

“Wow. You’d think he’d want to be an only child.” I scowled at him. “I didn’t mean that offensively. He just looks like the type of kid that would want that type of thing.”

“Well, he wasn’t.” I pulled a chair and plopped myself down in it. “He was bullied all throughout elementary school. You know, since being ginger-“ I spit the word out with disgust, hating the word, before continuing, “-is so horrible. He didn’t have any friends and that’s why he asked for a sibling.”

“That’s terrible.” He slid into a chair across from me, watching me.

I shrugged, feeling the need to continue with my story of Henry. I didn’t know why other than the fact that I had to tell someone since only my family knew. And they refused to talk about it. “Since it took a while for me to come, he started doing bad things. Like drinking and smoking. He even found bullies that let him help them bully. But in return, they bullied him. He gave up on smoking when I was born but his drinking habit got worse.

“When I was about seven or eight, I came home from school one day. I heard yelling from the kitchen and when I went in there, I saw Henry and my mother standing a few feet away from each other. They both looked furious. When I made my presence known, my mom didn’t look at me. Henry did and he glared outright before storming out of the room, shoving me aside. He reeked of alcohol.

“Later, at dinner, my dad got a call that he’d been in a car accident. He was fine but the other driver ended up in the hospital. He was put in jail for a few weeks until my mom begged my dad to bail him out. She said she wanted to try to work with him, make sure he’d stop drinking.

“But then he disappeared one night. We haven’t seen him since.”

“When was that?”

“Eleven years ago.”

Derek’s jaw dropped and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I hated talking about my brother. I didn’t hate him or anything. It just brought memories that I didn’t want to see or think of again.

“So, about this project… When is it due?” I looked at Derek. He still seemed concerned but for once, I noticed it wasn’t for himself. It was for me.

I gave him a gracious smile at the topic change and told him about the art project I’d been assigned. He sat there for a while longer and helped me look through all of photos.

Just when I thought I’d decided on the picture I was going to use, Derek reached for one that happened to be in a frame.

“You should use this one,” he told me, looking intently at the photo in his hand. I reached for it and he handed it over. Turning it to face me, I saw that this picture was just of my mother. She had her brown hair pulled back into a half ponytail, one hand reaching behind her head as she laughed at something off to the left of her.

I pressed my lips together, studying it. It was big enough that I could easily copy it. Plus, there wasn’t much in the background which would make it easier to focus on her. I gave Derek a bright smile and nodded.

“It’s perfect,” I exclaimed, setting it aside so I could gather all of the other photos. He stood and helped me gather them all into one pile.

“Lianne,” he said suddenly as I put the photos and the photo album back into the box on the ground. I glanced up at him when he didn’t continue and noticed that he’d shrunken in on himself, or so it appeared. Looking quite nervous, his eyes on the ground, he mumbled, “Are you doing anything tomorrow?”

“Aside from school? No. Why?”

Now he just looked outright uncomfortable. “I know we’ve only known each other for a few days but I was wondering if you’d like to go somewhere with me after your classes.”

I blinked. Was he asking me out on a date? I felt a pang of fear hit me in the chest but tried to keep my cool. “Um… I don’t know…” He looked at me then. His eyes were full of confusion and hurt almost. Why would he be hurt by what I’d said? This boy confused me more and more each day it seemed. “It depends on how much homework I have. You know how Professor Herbert is…”

He grimaced at the name, knowing I hated our world history professor. “Right. Well, keep me updated?”

The fear inside me grew but I nodded to him. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to avoid him forever. But a date? How was I supposed to avoid that? Homework wasn’t going to save me forever. And why was he asking me out? We were only friends. Friends didn’t go on dates with each other. Did they?

11: September 15th

Day 11

I glanced at the clock and saw that it was just five minutes before my alarm would go off. I sighed in frustration and threw my arm over my eyes. Exhaustion made my eyes heavy but my mind had been racing all night long, keeping me from sleeping.

Derek had asked me out on a date yesterday afternoon. At least I think he’d been asking me out. That was one of the things that I’d been thinking about all night. Had he truly been asking me out on a date? Or did he just want to hang out with me, outside of school and my house?

I groaned then slammed my hand on my alarm clock when the beeping started up. Slowly sitting up, I ran my hand through my hair. It was time to forget about Derek right now and get ready for the day. Climbing out of bed in the next instant, I did just that.

Forty-five minutes later, I was walking out the door with a piece of toast in my hand. The cold morning air bit at my face and I shivered. I still had a slight fever from that cold that had suddenly hit me from riding home in the rain the other day. In a few minutes, my nose would start running from the cold.

I hopped onto my bike, pulling both shoulder straps from my backpack on. I pushed on the pedals and was soon flying down the sidewalk, my hair flying out behind me.

It took me a moment to notice an old gray truck was moving slowly beside me on the road. I looked over and saw Derek in the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel and a smirk on his face when he caught me looking. The passenger window rolled down and he slowed to a stop as soon as I did.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride?” he asked, referring back to the day that I’d refused his offer and instead had ridden in the rain. “It’s a bit chilly out.”

I scowled at him. Why was he so persistent with this? “No, thank you. I’m perfectly fine with riding to school.”

His smirk vanished and concern appeared on his features. “You’re never going to get over that cold if you keep riding everywhere. Fall is here and soon winter will be here. I highly doubt you’ll be able to ride a bike in the snow.”

“No, I won’t be able to. But I will be able to walk.” I shrugged casually. “I’ll just have to get up earlier and leave earlier.”

He shook his head. “I will get you to ride in a car even if it kills me.”

I grinned then started pedaling again, going a bit faster than I had been just moments ago. A little bit later, I was locking my bike to the bike rack. I heard footsteps approaching and glanced up to see Derek standing on the other side of the rack.

“Why do you hate riding in cars?” he inquired, his brow pulled down in frustration. “I’m a really safe driver. I promise.”

I stood up and met his gaze. I felt like I should’ve shrunken in on myself and just let him drive me home later that day, just to get him to stop scowling. But the memory flashed in my mind and my determination returned anew. “I’m sure you are. But it’s going to have to take a lot for me to ever get in a car, whether or not you’re driving.”

With that, I spun on my heel and hurried inside the building. I heard him following me a moment later but didn’t slow my pace.

“I’m sorry, Lianne,” he muttered beside me. Dang, he was fast. Then again, he did have longer legs than I did. “I just don’t want you to get sick anymore.”

I stopped and looked at him searchingly. He stopped and turned to look back at me. “Why? Why do you care if I get sick? We haven’t even known each other for a week yet! Why do you care so much about me?! I’m not your lover, Derek! I’m barely even your friend!”

His eyes widened at my sudden exclamation. Hurt was clear on his face and I instantly felt bad for shouting at him. But I didn’t want to take the words back. I wanted to know his answer. Although, instead of giving me one, he turned and walked away.

I followed him after a moment and when I entered Professor Herbert’s classroom, I started going toward the place that I always sat. But another girl was sitting there, twirling her dirty blonde hair in her finger. She glanced at me and grinned then turned back to the front of the room. I sighed then looked for Derek. He was sitting on the far side of the room. A girl sitting near him was trying to talk to him but he wasn’t looking at her nor replying. And he wasn’t looking at me either.

I sighed and took a seat in the one right in front of me. It was on the front row but on the opposite side of where Derek sat. I noticed Professor Herbert look at me suspiciously before his eyes roamed over to Derek and then back to me. I looked away as I pulled out my items for this class, ignoring the other students that slowly filed in.

Today was going to be a long day.

…

I wandered out of the classroom long after everyone else had left, including Derek. Professor Herbert hadn’t kept me after again. I’d only stayed so I could finish writing my all my notes that he’d, thankfully, kept up on the board.

I stopped in the hallway and looked down the way that I’d never been. Out of curiosity, I followed it. The hallway led to a staircase that seemed a bit dark. As I started to walk down the set of stairs, two girls walked past me, deep in conversation. I noticed that they were both skinny and had their hair up, looking a bit tired.

I hurried down the rest of the stairs and stopped in front of an open doorway. I saw my reflection in the mirrored wall on the far side of the room, a long wooden protruding from the glass cutting me in half.

My eyes widened in awe as I slowly walked inside the large dance room, taking in all of its beauty.

“You like my dance room?” a woman’s voice startled me. I spun around and saw her, dark-skinned with black hair up in a curly ponytail facing me. A wide smile was on her face and her eyes seemed to be sparkling as she took me in. “I’ve never seen you before. Do you plan to take a class of mine?”

I merely shook my head. “I was just wandering around.”

“Ah, new student then.” I nodded. “But you like my dance room?” I nodded again, this time eagerly.

“It’s beautiful. Very well taken care of.”

“Of course. If I am to have many dancers in here daily, I must keep it spotless.”

My eyes widened. “Daily?”

It was her turn to nod eagerly. “I’ve only been here for three years and yet I’ve had quite a few students change their degrees because of me. It makes me happy to know that I can change others’ lives with just a mere physical thing.”

“Dance isn’t just physical,” I told her, shaking my head. “If you love it enough and put enough into it, it can be emotional as well.”

The woman’s eyes sparkled again, this time with interest. “Yes. I completely agree. Did you say you were a dancer?”

I shook my head once more, feeling suddenly shy. “I haven’t danced in years.”

The woman bit her lip thoughtfully then started to walk a circle around me. “Well, you most certainly have the body type for it. But do you have the drive for it?” My eyes widened. What was she implying? “I hope you aren’t too busy to join a class of mine. Why don’t you come over tomorrow and we’ll start going over dance moves? Just you and I.”

My jaw dropped. “You want me to join one of your dance classes?”

She smiled brightly. “If you are as good as I believe you to be, you will be joining my dance team.”

A bubble of excitement rushed through me but it immediately died away as I thought about dancing more. “I haven’t danced in a long time though.”

“I don’t think you’ve forgotten much, depending on how long you danced before you stopped.” I thought about that for a moment. She was right. I could still be as good as I was when I was only ten. But only time would tell. “Oh, call me Aisha by the way.”

I smiled at her. “Lianne Carter.”

“Well, Lianne, I will see you tomorrow. You can come earlier in the day to practice on your own. But I will be here around noon to help you. Does that sound okay?”

“It sounds great.” Aisha grinned. I said good-bye then went back up the stairs. 

12: September 16th

The basement was a mess. Clothes and boxes were scattered all over the floor. In my hands, I held my dance clothes that I hadn’t worn since high school. I wasn’t sure if they’d fit anymore though. I’d only taken one dance class that had lasted for just half a semester.

I set the clothes down and quickly put everything back where I’d found it. Then I hurried upstairs and changed into the clothes. Surprisingly enough, they still fit. I pulled my hair up and wrapped it into a bun on top of my head, a few loose curls falling down the back of my neck and the sides of my face, framing it.

I slipped some flip-flops on, grabbing a small bag where I’d packed a water bottle and my old stereo and hurrying out the door. It was only ten o’clock but I wanted to be able to get some solo dancing in before Aisha showed up. I hopped on my bike and was at the college in no time, locking up my bike.

I was thankful that there were Saturday classes or else I would’ve had to wait for Aisha. As I wandered toward the dance room, I briefly wondered if the doors would be locked. But one push on it once I arrived sent my worries flying away. I walked to one corner of the room and set my stereo down on the floor. I glanced up at my reflection and dropped my bag next to me.

“You can do this, Lianne,” my mother spoke to me, excitement in her voice as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My wavy red hair was pulled back into a ponytail and my light-brown eyes were wide with worry. I saw my mother with her beautiful brown hair and eyes standing behind me, a big smile on her face. “I believe in you.”

I blinked and looked down at my bag and stereo. I bent down and plugged the contraption into an outlet I found on the wall then pressed a few buttons. In moments, music entered the room, echoing off the walls. I took a few steps back and positioned myself, ready for the music to pick up.

“Now, start with something simple,” Mom told me. I glanced at her. She had moved to the far side of the room, still looking excited for me.

“Like what?” I asked in my high-pitched, child voice.

“Like… lifting your arms and spinning in a circle.”

I lifted my arms and one leg, closing my eyes as I let my body move to the gentle music playing around me. The music slowly intensified and so did my movements. Instead of just gentle swaying motions, I was soon leaping across the floor, my feet taking me places while my arms swirled around me. I kept my eyes closed, letting my body do all of the work.

“You’re doing wonderfully, dearest.”

I turned toward my mother and beamed before spinning in a circle. I stopped, one leg out to my side while my arms stretched out to either side of me.

“Beautiful.” My eyes met hers and I saw just how proud she was of me.

The music slowly died down and when my body stopped moving, I opened my eyes. I was looking at my reflection again, in the same position I’d been in in my memory. But I was startled to find my mother standing behind me in the reflection.

I spun around and saw Aisha, a big smile on her face. I briefly glanced back at the mirror and realized that the woman I’d thought was my mother in the reflection was truly just the dance teacher.

“That was beautiful,” Aisha commented, setting down her things on a chair on the other side of the room. “I knew I was right about you.” My attention was fully on her now, confused as to what she meant. “You haven’t forgotten much, have you?”

I shrugged. “I just lost myself in the music…”

“And you showed your true self by doing just that. That’s what music does to us. It shows who we really are.” I felt suddenly nervous and grateful. If Derek had been there, who knew what he would’ve thought. Wait. Why was I thinking of Derek? I shook myself. “You’ve lost something important to you. Perhaps a loved one?”

My eyes widened and I jerked my head up to look at her. “How do you know that?”

A sad smile touched her face. “I saw it in your movements. Like you said yesterday, dancing is more than just physical. It’s emotional as well. And yours… You bring yourself to life and pour all of your emotions into your movements, whether or not you realize it.”

I looked away. I felt her eyes on me still but I didn’t want to answer her yet. I closed my eyes, trying to think of only good memories before I spoke. “I lost my mother when I was ten.”

Silence was the only reply I received. I glanced over at Aisha and saw her looking at me solemnly. “I feel as though you need to get this off your chest, child. Go on.”

I shook my head. That was all she was going to get out of me. I refused to talk about how it all happened. I refused to think of my mother that way even though the memories haunted me.

“Alright,” she sighed after a moment. “Let’s get to that lesson I told you we’d do.” I gave her a gracious smile.

She stood beside me and got in a casual starting position. I followed suit and soon were moving across the floor, completely in sync. After a while though, I noticed I was the only one on the dance floor, spinning myself around and losing myself again. I briefly heard music playing around me once more and let my body move with it.

A few spins and bends later, I finally came to a stop. My breathing was coming out heavily and I was starting to feel nauseous. It was then that I realized I’d forgotten to eat something that morning.

“Here.” I blinked and turned toward Aisha. She was holding a granola bar out to me, concern in her expression. I took it and bit into it, chewing slowly. “I don’t think you need my help, Lianne.” I looked up at her sharply. “You just need music and soon you’re dancing across the floor like a professional. I will leave these doors unlocked until I leave for home and on the weekends. That way, you can come in here whenever you’d like.”

I smiled at her. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. But just promise me one thing, Lianne.” I blinked at her, my eyes wide with curiosity. “Don’t ever give up dancing again.”

I smiled again and nodded eagerly.

…

I hopped off my bike in front of my house and leaned it against the front porch wall. I noticed a small folded piece of paper taped to my front doorknob. I reached for it and stepped inside before I unfolded it. I immediately recognized Derek’s hand-writing and let my eyes skim over the words.

Lianne,

I care for you because you’re my friend. My only friend right now. And as much as you may think that I shouldn’t care, I can’t help but to do just that. I know I’m your only friend, too. How do I know? Because I never see you with anyone else. I don’t know why but I think we need each other, Lianne. I don’t care if you’re my lover or not. I just care that you’re my friend. And friends don’t let friends suffer.

I hope you don’t stay mad at me for too long. I didn’t mean to upset you.

See you Monday.

Derek

I bit my lip, guilt eating at me. I should’ve been the one to apologize to him, not the other way around. I wondered if I he’d come and get a note if I left it on the doorknob. But then I decided against it. Apologizing in person would be better.

I tucked the note in with all the others I’d kept from him. Hopefully he wasn’t hurting too much from my words.

13: September 17th

Day 13

I was about to take my first bite of the hot oatmeal I’d just made when my phone started ringing. I reached for it and hit a button, then placed it against my ear.

“Hello?” I said into the small receiver.

“Gosh, you’re up early,” my dad’s voice crackled through the other end. “I remember when you’d sleep in until ten. What happened?”

I smiled, grabbed my bowl of oatmeal and sat down at the kitchen table. “Life happened.”

“Right, of course.” I rolled my eyes and took a bite of oatmeal as he proceeded to talk. “So, you started your first week of school, right? How’s it going?”

I quickly swallowed and winced as the heat of it burned me all the way down to my stomach. “It’s going well. Although I have this really rude professor who seems to hate me…”

“What? No way. No one can hate my little girl.”

I bit my tongue, remembering he didn’t know of all the nicknames I’d gotten in high school for being so painfully shy. “Well, he does. He’s so rude to me.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it. He’ll start loving you in no time once he sees how good you are.”

I sighed. “I don’t know… I love history but he just makes me hate it.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Things will look up. Oh, that reminds me. Have you tried making any new friends yet?”

Derek flew to the front of my mind when he said that. Were Derek and I friends? I had no idea now. Especially after Friday and what I’d said to him. Surely he didn’t think of us as friends after that. “Um… I don’t know…”

“You don’t know? What do you mean you don’t know?”

“Well, I met this guy…” I heard a gasp and paused. “What was that for?”

“Please tell me you talked to him,” a woman’s voice cut in. I froze. Clara. Why was she talking to me now? Unless...

“Dad, do you have your phone on speaker?” I asked accusingly.

“Um… Perhaps,” he muttered, realizing I was upset by it.

“Dad, you know I only talk to you about this stuff.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter if you do. He tells me anyways. I mean, I am your mother,” Clara responded for him. “I deserve to know these things.”

I clenched my jaw. “You are not my mother, Clara, and you do not deserve to know about my personal life.” Nothing but silence was heard on the other end. I didn’t care if I’d hurt her feelings. She was not my mother and never would be. End of story.

“I’m sorry, Lianne,” my father said, his voice sounding closer. Good, he’d turned his phone off speaker. “I know you and Clara aren’t on good terms right now but that doesn’t mean you can speak to her that way. She practically is your mother. She raised you until you left for college. I know she’s just your stepmother but treat her kindly, will you?”

“No, I will not,” I snapped. “Clara is not Mom and never will be. Don’t you dare take her side on this either. What happened to being Switzerland?”

“I know Clara is not Bridgett,” he retorted just as sharply. “I know she never will be but she can take the role as mother in this family and she has done so willingly. You need to respect her for that and love her for who she is.”

“I will never love her!” Furious with him and not wanting to hear him take her side any longer, I pulled the phone away and hit the ‘end’ button. Then I proceeded to slam the phone on the table. I glared down at my oatmeal, suddenly not hungry anymore.

I shoved my chair back and went to my room, slipping some shoes on. Then I stormed out the front door, needing some fresh air. In just a few moments, I found myself gripping the chains of the swing I was sitting on, my eyes tightly shut as I held tears back.

I slowly opened my eyes and leaned my head back, staring up at the sky. It was blue today with white puffs of cloud scattered across it. It was so peaceful, so calming…

“Hey.” I jumped and spun in my seat only to fall off and land on the woodchips. I quickly sat up and put my hand in front of me to stop the seat of the swing from whacking me in the face. “You okay?”

I finally looked up at the person standing in front of me. Derek. What was he doing here? He seemed to be concerned. Whether that concern was for me or him, I didn’t know.

“I’m fine,” I mumbled, scrambling to my feet and attempting to dust off all the woodchips that stuck to my clothing.

“You look upset,” he told me. I kept my gaze downcast, pressing my lips together. How could he read me so well? Was I just that much of an open book? “Lianne, did something happen?” I shook my head but didn’t answer him. I heard him sigh loudly and glanced up at him.

“Would you stop pushing me out?!” I jumped back slightly, frightened at his loud voice. What the devil had just come over him? I’d never heard him yell before. “I’m your friend, Lianne! I’m trying to help you but whenever I do, you push me away! Can’t you just let one person in?!”

I stared at him, wide eyed and mouth open. He was glaring at me, anger swirling around in his eyes. As I continued to stare, I realized just how right he was. My chin quivered as tears filled my eyes. I spun around right as I noticed the anger start to leave his face. I refused to let him see me cry.

“Lianne, I-“

“You’re right,” I said, my voice shaking. “Something did happen. But I don’t want to talk about it. It doesn’t mean I’m pushing you out. I just don’t want to talk about it. Okay?”

“Okay,” he whispered so softly, sending chills down my arms. I heard woodchips crunching then felt fingertips under my chin. He slowly lifted my chin up until I was looking at him. He used his other hand to wipe a tear off my cheek. “I’m sorry for exploding like that. Friends shouldn’t do that to each other and I’m really sorry.”

I nodded but didn’t say anything. I didn’t trust my voice right then

so I just took a step closer to him and wrapped my arms around his torso, leaning the side of my face against his chest. A second later, I felt his warm arms encircle me and I let a few tears fall down my cheeks.

I had no doubts now. Derek truly was my one and only friend. The only thing I wondered about was how lucky I’d been to meet him and befriend him so quickly.

…

I curled up on my couch with a blanket covering me, a mug of hot chocolate in my hands. I blew on it softly, my eyes on the television. But I wasn’t really watching it. I was thinking about my conversation with my father earlier that morning. I felt bad but it was too late at night to call and apologize. I could leave a voicemail but I felt that would seem as though I wasn’t trying hard enough and I didn’t care.

But I did care. I felt horrible. Yes, Clara wasn’t my biological mother. But my father was right. She had raised me after her and my dad got together and until I left home. She had made me smile and laugh, held me when I cried and had read me stories at night until I fell asleep. She had most definitely taken the role as mother in the household and had done so wonderfully.

I sighed in frustration. I needed to get my mind off of it. It was only upsetting me, making me think back on the way I had spoken to her that morning.

I jumped off the couch, put my mug on the counter and rushed up to my art room. The painting that I’d finished last week still sat on the easel. I looked at the painting for a moment then picked it up and placed it against a few others. Then I reached behind the easel and picked up a new blank canvas, setting it on the easel.

I prepped everything then held the paintbrush in my hand, my mind staring at the canvas before me. My hand twitched and soon the brush was flying across the white surface.

It was dark when I finally finished with the painting. I’d turned on the light in the room once the light from the outside was gone. I set the paintbrush down and stared at the picture I’d just created.

The light came from a streetlight, glowing in the darkening sky. Fallen brown leaves covered the ground. The light from the streetlight shone on the gray seat of the swing, the chains seeming to glow from the light. A lone black boot lay on its side, almost hidden in the shadows.

That painting was stuck in my head that night, even as I lay in bed trying to sleep. Why I had painted such a dark picture? Was it because I how I felt after this morning and treating Clara?

I sighed in frustration, throwing my arm over my eyes. I tried to think of something else and soon found myself slipping into darkness.

14: September 18th

Day 14

It was dark. The only light that I could see came from the streetlight on the corner. Brown leaves crunched under my feet and the sound of metal creaking had me turning around. Once I saw the swing and the boot laying on the ground, I realized I was in my painting.

“Lianne,” a soft whisper came from behind me. I spun around and saw a hooded figure, their face hidden in shadows.

“Derek?” I asked, trying to recognize the voice.

“Lianne, it’s so good to see you.” The figure walked toward me and reached their arms out as if to wrap them around me. But then the light from the streetlight lit up half of their face. They were smirking at me and before I could look at their eyes, I was being shoved. I fell over, waiting for the impact of the ground. But nothing came. That was when I realized I was falling, a few leaves falling down with me.

I landed hard on something, a little ‘oof’ escaping my mouth. I sat up and rubbed my head. I noticed the ground beneath me was smooth and white. I started to look around more when my gaze landed on a woman in front of me.

My eyes widened as the woman smirked. She wore a black short sleeved dress that hid her feet. Her red hair was curled and darker than my own, her eyes seeming to glow.

“Why hello there,” she said smoothly, taking a few steps toward me.

I jumped to my feet, my eyes staying on her. “Who are you?”

“That’s a silly question.” She giggled. “I’m you, of course. Can’t you tell?” My eyes widened and I took a step back. She giggled again. “Of course you can’t. You’re far too stupid and pathetic to realize such a simple thing.”

“I’m not stupid,” I snapped. But my voice came out shaky and uncertain, betraying me.

She outright laughed at that. “Right. You’re not stupid. Just pathetic.” I shook my head. “Oh, yes you are.” She grabbed my wrists and yanked me closer to her, so close our noses almost touched. “You can barely stand up to your history professor or ask questions in any of your classes. You ride a silly little bike that’s practically falling apart. And let’s not forget how you just assume that you have your father wrapped around your little finger…”

“No, stop!” I shouted, pulling against her grip. She only tightened it though.

“Let me repeat myself again.” She leaned in and whispered in my ear, “You are so… pathetic.”

“Shut up!!”

…

I woke up with tears blurring my vision and a stuffed up nose. I rubbed my eyes with my wrists, taking in a shaky breath. A second later, my alarm blared loudly with beeping. I reached over and clicked a button, turning it off. Then I slowly sat up, sniffing.

When were these nightmares going to end?

I got ready for school and was about to grab my toast out of the toaster when a knock sounded on my front door. I walked over and opened it up to see Derek standing there. He shivered and stepped inside, his breath coming out in a big white cloud in front of his face.

“Geez, it’s freezing out there!” he exclaimed. I just stared him blankly. “What are you doing? Shut the door!” He reached over me and slammed the door shut then shivered again.

“Well, no wonder you’re cold,” I said. “You’re only wearing a long sleeve shirt with jeans.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t know it was going to be so cold out this morning. That and I only live a few houses down.”

I blinked. He did? “You do?”

He just nodded. “So what’s for breakfast? Please tell me you have some hot chocolate made already.”

I shook my head. “Unfortunately, I don’t.” A sudden look of disappointment crossed his face. “But I can make some.”

A smile lit his face. “Would you?”

I smiled back and walked into the kitchen, immediately starting to work on the hot chocolate. I heard a chair creak and glanced behind me to see him sitting at the table, looking a bit nervous.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, facing him. He looked at me and shot to his feet. I gave him a weird look. “What are you doing?”

“I wasn’t-I mean-“ He sighed in what seemed to be frustration before he tried again, “Do you mind if I sit down? I didn’t really ask…”

I smiled at him. “Of course I don’t mind.”

Relief filled him and he sat back down as I turned back to the hot chocolate. After my toast finally popped, I was setting two mugs on the table. He gave me a gracious smile and took a sip.

I glanced at the clock and saw that I had about ten minutes before I had to leave for school. I leaned back in my seat and sipped at my hot chocolate.

“Are you planning to ride to school again today?” he inquired, taking a big gulp of his drink. How the heck did he do that? It was practically burning my tongue even as I blew on it.

“Of course,” I replied. “It’s not snowing yet, is it?”

“But it’s freezing out.”

“And I plan to wear a jacket, unlike you.”

He scowled at me then shook his head and finished off his hot chocolate. “Well, it’s a good thing I brought my bike then.”

“What?” That explained why he was so cold when he’d gotten to my house.

“I brought my bike. So, now, we can ride together.” I gave him a weird look, wondering why that sentence sent a chill down my spine. “When do you leave?”

“About now, but it’s a bit early.”

“Well, finish your hot chocolate and we’ll go.”

“Why do you suddenly seem so excited? You don’t like the cold, remember?”

He shrugged then grabbed my hot chocolate out of my hand. I gasped and watched in surprise as he stood and put it in the freezer. Then he spun around and leaned against the large contraption, grinning.

I scowled at him but didn’t make any move to go try to grab my drink. I really did need to finish getting ready and that hot chocolate wasn’t going to be cooling down any time soon. So while I waited, I hopped up off my chair and left the room to go grab my backpack, leaving Derek in silent surprise at my sudden departure.

I returned with my backpack slung over my shoulders and grabbed my toast.

“Let’s go,” I told him, starting toward the front door.

“Wait, what about your hot chocolate?” he asked, still standing in front of the refrigerator.

“It’s too hot. By the time it’s cool enough for me to drink we’ll have to go.”

“So you’re just going to leave it in there?”

I stepped in front of him, looking up to meet his gaze. “If you move, I’ll throw it out.”

A spark of amusement flashed through his eyes and I had the sudden feeling to step back. I didn’t. “And what if I don’t?”

I shrugged nonchalantly. “Then I leave it in there until I get home.”

“But it’ll get cold.” Had I just imagined him moving closer to me?

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “Is that supposed to be a hint for something? Because I’m not that stupid to know it’s going to get cold.”

His eyes softened and I found I was suddenly lost in them, unable to look away. “Something like that could break in the cold.” I started to shake my head then froze when he whispered my name, his breath tickling my face, “Lianne…”

I blinked and realized just how close he was. Panic set in and my hands shot out, shoving him back into the refrigerator as I stumbled back. At one point, I lost my footing and fell over. But my eyes never left him. Had he been about to kiss me?

A blush crept up onto his cheeks and he quickly averted his gaze from me. “We should probably get going.”

I blinked and nodded. I didn’t move though until he’d left the kitchen. I glanced at the refrigerator then at the time and decided that it wouldn’t hurt to leave the mug in there. I hurried after Derek, closing and locking the front door on our way out.