Wither Chap.1-4

Wither

Author’s note: This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. The setting mentioned here is not real but only invented.

Prologue I HELD BACK THE TEARS as I watched the plane fading away. The gray sky blended with my sorrow and the wind became a twinge of pain. I can no longer see it now. I will no longer see them. “Three years of sweet freedom!” I turned to her, a grave look on my face. I was still in the midst of sadness and confusion when she said that aloud. Misconceptions, I muttered under my breath and peered at the road ahead. Nothing is sweet, especially in this kind of town, with grim-looking trees and eerie insect sounds. “I hope so, auntie…” I said bitterly. It was a long ride back home. Back to Le Raine.

Phase 1 “Into each life some rain must fall.” -H.W. Longfellow

***Chapter 1*** ~Remembering~ The moon crept under the starless black sky, enveloping the room with strange heavy darkness. Aside from the ticking of the clock, a low sob of sadness reverberated through the walls. Time was something I never paid attention to from the start. Soon, the sun will rise yet here I am still wide awake, lying in my bed while not minding about tomorrow. How long was I been like this, crying my heart out every night? How long must I dwell on the thought that they have left me? I laughed at myself. Here I am acting childishly when I know for a fact that they have an important business to tend to abroad, compelling them to immediately leave the country. Won’t that make me a shallow silly girl? It’s not like they are gone forever. And besides, Italy is just a flight away. My lips were quivering as I tried to fight the tears but they came running down my face. Remembering them made it hard for me to stop crying. Silly girl, that’s enough! I scolded myself yet was no good. Sadness dominated me and the best way for it to end is to empty myself with the unbearable weight I’m carrying inside. Mom! Dad! I miss you… The rays of sunlight glimmered on the window pane and refracted towards me, hitting my eyes. Painful, I thought as I rubbed them with my hand. I didn’t have much sleep last night due to constant crying over my parents’ departure. By now, I should’ve stopped. It was pointless and I don’t think my lacrimal glands will produce tears for me to shed. It’s been four days already. Usually, normal teenagers would be delighted when their parents leave them, alone and unsupervised. Sweet freedom. They can do whatever they want! While me? A helpless girl who clings on her parents for everything. Without them, I’m uncertain if I’ll be able to survive in this cruel world. What about food (because I can’t cook)? What about money (because I don’t earn them. I ask for them)? Then what will be of my life? Putting those thoughts in my head, I realized how dependent I was to them for 16 years of my existence here on earth. Therefore whatever things I’m undertaking right now is a challenge I’ve got to get through; that I can manage without them, that I can be independent, and that I will be the cheerful girl I once have been…Or perhaps not, for the weight I bear is too much that I can’t put up with it. I’m trapped inside a miserable soul. I found myself still draped in a blanket that morning. The sun was already high, making me realize that I had fallen asleep— again. Just now, I felt the sunray stinging on my skin. Although the pain was incomparably lesser than the preceding one, it

produced the same outcome. The same pain still lingered inside. It’s never going to change. So much that it appears I’m the source of gloominess in the room. Lazily, I dragged myself to the floor and though my head was swirling due to excessive sleep, I got by on going to the bathroom to take a shower. It’s about time I face the day. Actually, this setting is very common to me: having a hard time opening my eyes but the truth is I’m just too lazy to open them; then, when finally awaken yet I opted to lie down on my bed for a few minutes more while cursing the day ahead. However, today was a special one. I stood frozen in front of the mirror, surprised at the image before me. Red and bulging eyelids, dark rings curved under my tear-stained eyes. I looked the worst, seeing the result of my sleepless nights. Anemia, as what I thought it must be, for I can’t find the words to best describe the paleness of my skin. My lips, which were already dry and almost about to rupture, quivered as I touched them. They were pale too, indicating the deficiency of blood in my system. Must—get—rid—of this! I barely uttered those words. What I intended to do right now is to liven up my face, removing the proof of my crying during the night. Placing a handful of facial soap on my palm (when the amount is supposedly pea-sized), I smeared the greenish, beady substance on my worn-out face roughly that I ended up with aching pores. Cold water trickled down as I rinsed the soap off; leaving droplets scattered on my face, glistening like diamonds. The mirror fogged as I drew near, holding back the urge to scream as I got a closer look at myself. “Laura, forgive me…” I mumbled, horrified at the peaked girl gazing back at me. Laura. And they said I was a facsimile. Everything about me resembled her, although only in facial features. She was in her thirties, a woman too young for her age, having that spotless white skin glowing under the sunlight. Her eyes were emerald too lovely that you can’t stop looking at her while her russettainted hair swayed as she walked down the sunny streets of LA. Eyecatching. Dad once pointed out, and there she goes, giggling while her face flushed red. It was quite unusual for her to be flattered knowing that she must be accustomed to praises and admiration already. She was one of the most sought-after models in America. But then it is dad, the lucky man who got hold of her so there’s no need for me to wonder why.

What will be her reaction if she sees me now, thin and sickly? I bet she’ll rush back home to treat me with proper diet and nutrition. I won’t oppose to that. But if she’ll force me on medicine, she better stay in Italy. She’s the kind of mother who is very particular to health, especially mine. She would not tolerate my refusal of drinking milk for the day. She said I need them for my bones. Then there’s the food supplement issue that caused us arguments. Even dad wouldn’t take it. I’m glad he’s on my side. The taste of the tablets was unbearable that every time I tried to swallow it, I ended up spewing it. Surprisingly, she didn’t react on that. She felt nauseated with the tablets herself. So she bought vitamins and supplements in capsule forms instead. How considerate of her. Noticeably weak, I managed to smile. Though it made me cry again, the tears weren’t the same sad ones as before. Why have I come to realize it just now, wasting all my tears away for the wrong assumptions? They were gone and faraway but still, the memory of them remained in my heart. Forever. The wooden dresser, carved elaborately by skillful hands, contained all facial creams and other skin-care products Laura had given me. She’s a meticulous lady and beauty is one on top of her list. Strange as it may seem, it happened to be helpful on my part since showering hadn’t changed a thing at all. My eyes were bloodshot. Creams, moisturizers, toners and other beauty chemicals contained in plastic containers rested on the flat surface of the dresser, implying ‘Ready to use’. Imagine how tiring life can be when you spend half the day on your dressing room, applying creams on your face, fixing your hair, choosing the most dazzling outfit to wear, and just…making yourself beautiful. Does Laura even get sick of her daily routine? I’m about to reach the nearest bottled moisturizers when a ringing sound echoed throughout the house, the only sound I’ve heard so far this morning. I was planning to pick up it but then ceased, leaving the house noiseless again. I decided to go on with the moisturizer now, disregarding the phone call. It wasn’t important, I guess… And I’m not expecting Laura or Peter. I know they are too busy to call, especially Peter who finds sleeping a rare blessing at the moment. A diligent architect with the highest hope of creating the best skyscrapers and outstanding edifice in the world, he devoted himself on the profession he chose. Pursuing his dreams, he journeyed to Italy. He planned to go alone, though money wasn’t the problem. It was me whom he worries about, seeing as Laura would insist on coming with him. “But what about Claire? Who’ll look after her when we’re gone?” I recalled Peter with a worried expression on his face. “Don’t worry dad. I’ll be fine,” I told him before Laura could propose her ideas. There was no assurance with the words I’ve spoken. He raised an eyebrow, definitely unconvinced more than I

was. Fine? I never experienced being away with them except during school days. Going out and hanging with friends (honestly, I don’t remember having one) weren’t a hobby of mine thus turning me into an anti-social girl. The house, our house, was the only place I wanted to be; away from the chaotic classroom; away from the disarray of the city. The sound of its comforting walls, providing a sense of security and warmth, hummed gently across my ears. So peaceful. So quiet. I was used to being alone. But when Peter let Laura come with him, to my surprise, these feelings were wrong. Was I supposed to feel happy? I can do whatever I want. I can even organize a party. Then again, I remembered being friendless so partying wasn’t a good idea. Was I supposed to let Peter believe I’ll be fine without them? My chest tightened as the remorseful reflection reached my perception. I assumed of not being able to make it, a force that triggered the loneliness within my almost hopeless soul, piercing my heart until I can barely hold back the tears in my eyes. And that is where Peter called for his sister, Rosalle. He was too guilty too leave me all by myself and blamed Laura as well, to lessen his guilt. He can’t stand it. But Italy’s enticing offer was hard to resist. He must go. As for Laura, her job as a model didn’t turn out to be a hindrance by any means. Her manager took care of the necessary arrangements in her modeling company. And if ever she wasn’t permitted, she’ll still go with Peter, saying ‘I can’t wait to see Milan!’ An exceptional mother, really. Sigh. To be on my own for three years: not bad. Challenges exist to determine how strong we are. And if I fall now, when it’s not even difficult to begin with, what will become of me? Simple: a pathetic loser.

***Chapter 2*** Morning “I hope this works.” Tossing the yellow plastic container aside, I took a deep breath and patted my face. I think I’m ready to face the world now. Well… only a part of me does. Sometimes it’s getting hard trying to act as if you’re happy, as if nothing happened and as if you’re problem-free. But I muddled through it all along. I’m such a great actress for convincing people; convincing them that I’m fine when the truth is I am not. Or rather they just don’t notice it the whole time. My fingers traced along the wooden railing as I went downstairs. Just then, a picture of a couple in a silver vintage frame hanging on the wall caught my attention. There was a man wearing a fine black suit which made him look more gallant and reputable. Next to him was a woman with dark flattened hair and a small white face. A remarkable beauty indeed. Yet, there is something wrong, something strange about her. Her eyes. They were crimson glistening under those long lashes. Is it possible to have such kind of eyes? I was too absorbed in the picture that it startled me when the telephone rang for the second time this morning. Loud footsteps thudded towards the living room and the ringing sound ceased. I ignored it and went to have breakfast instead. Settling in the dining area, I heard incoming footsteps again. It was Rosalle: a famous novelist whose works are best sellers, my father’s sister, and my aunt. Her auburn hair was tied in a knot and her red-framed eyeglasses hung behind her emerald eyes. She was a woman of grace and beauty for her movement was gentle and her features were that of an angel. One must think she is perfect. Yet, I proved not. “Good morning, Claire!” She beamed as she sat across the table, facing me. “Another puffy day, huh?” ”Actually, it’s insomnia…” I said dryly as I nibbled the pizza. “Since when did you have insomnia? Ahaha! If I know you missed somebody back in Houston.” She teased; causing me to swallow the massive crust without thinking it could have made me choke. And it did. She will never fall for such kind of lie. Or maybe I’m just a bad liar.

“Stop making fun of me, aunt.” I told her sternly as I drank the milk to clear my throat. She broke into laughter as I glared at her. If I’m not mistaken, she’s enjoying this. She relishes every single moment pestering me and my patience is now reaching its limits. Now that’s not likely what I imagined of her being a refined lady considering her unrestrained annoying laughter. I can’t stand her anymore. “Fine. Fine. Just don’t call me aunt. It makes me feel like an old woman. Just call me Rosalle,” she grinned. “So you’ve been crying last night again huh?” “My eyes should tell…” I said roughly, my voice full of remorse of doing so. “I see. I don’t blame you for that. I’m like that myself… before… But it worries me that your eyes get puffy when you cry. You’re no far from a frog now.” She chortled. Her voice was a little bit low despite of her constant raillery. Then I asked, changing the subject immediately before she could say a word again. “Uhm! Who called?” Her eyebrows narrowed as she looked at me skeptically. “Well… It’s William.” Her face reddened when she said the name aloud, but somehow flashing a wide smile at me. To see Rosalle in her dreamy form was a relief to me. At least, she won’t bother me with the puffy-day comment. It’s just nice seeing her the way she is right now and I hope this will last...forever. Finally, I can have my breakfast in peace. “Anyway,” she interjected in the midst of my quiet meal. “Your mom called, asking how you are doing.” As if I didn’t hear her, I continued eating the pizza. “She said she’ll call again tonight.” I chose not to speak. The weight climbed up on my body and it made me weak. My hands were trembling as I took every bite off the pizza. It was soon that I felt warm tears streaming down my eyes. I was crying…yet again. “I know… I know…” Rosalle patted my hands while comforting me. But her words seemed like the wind, simply brushing in my ears. Empty and nothing more. “Stop crying dear. A frog face can never be fixed in a surgery,” she said, which was more like a joke than a consolation. In spite of that, my tears were bursting like fury. Mom and Dad always make me cry and I hate Rosalle for bringing up the topic.

“Okay. Enough of that already. It adds more to the puffiness.” I wiped the tears off and looked up to face her. “Is it really that bad?” “Well… Not really.” Rosalle muttered unsurely which meant that it was really bad. She turned and finished her coffee to get away from the guilt of mendacity even though she was just trying to make me feel better. Fortunately, I’ll use it as a reason for not going to school today. “Rosalle, I think I’ll pass school. Just for today,” I reassured her. Her head rouse up the second she heard the words ‘pass school’. She shook her head disapprovingly as she said, “I think you shouldn’t.” “But I don’t feel well. And besides you said I looked bad.” “I didn’t say you looked bad. I said — er — ‘not really’.” “It’s the same thing.” My eyes were starting to get watery. Rosalle, on the other hand, didn’t have the slightest sympathy towards me. She took the grabby plate from the table and placed it on the sink. A while ago she was the sweet, understanding aunt I knew. Next, she became a cold-hearted woman who completely disregarded my excuse. “Remember Laura will call again and for sure she’ll ask ‘How’s your first day in school?’ Now how are you supposed to answer that when you didn’t even go there?” “Uhm… I tell her ‘it’s cool’.” “Very unconvincing. Now drop it and get dressed. It’s nearly 7:30.” Rosalle said firmly as she exited from the dining area, leaving me with another problem: school. Rosalle was already in her silver Innova when I finished fixing my stuffs. She looked so tensed. “Claire! Aren’t you done yet?” She shouted. Her voice was fairly impatient. I heard the engine rumbling so I hurriedly closed the door and got myself sitting in the passenger seat beside her. Slamming the door shut, she told me, “Great! We are really late.” I nodded and told myself to simply just stay silent.

The next thing I knew, we were on the road, speeding. Rosalle was driving fast. The trees were sketchy as we passed them. Although vague, it gave me a strange feeling as they towered over the road. As for now, this feeling is rather indefinable and confusing. I can’t understand it myself either. When I first arrived in Le Raine, I didn’t take notice of everything: its tall shading trees and the hazy atmosphere that clouded the place. During that time, I was in grief and it matched with my emotion that the murkiness was hardly noticeable. However, when I was returning back to myself, it turned out distressing. Gazing blankly at the road ahead, I asked Rosalle questions bothering me. “Hey Rosalle?” “Yeah? What is it?” I turned to her and continued on my query. “Since when did you moved here?” “Oh that? Last year. Why?” “Don’t you even miss New York? Shopping? Malls and boutiques?” Her lifestyle in New York was completely different than in Le Raine. She lived in a first-class condominium, having a trip around the world every year and just simply enjoying her comfortable and lavish life. All because she is famous, always been the cover of MOD and Allure. Seeing her in Forbes Mag one day won’t be surprising at all. However Rosalle in this unfamiliar town, it’s likely hard to imagine. Rosalle chuckled as she gripped the steering wheel. “Honestly, I’m sick of them already. Le Raine is such a peaceful town and I loved it here. And also William…” She said his name quietly yet full of affection. He was a friend. Rosalle said he was the owner of a popular publishing house, the S.L. Publishing Inc. “Huh? William? What about him?” “N-nothing,” Rosalle stammered as I threw her the unexpected query. “Oh! I think we’re here.” She stopped before the entrance of the school. “I’ll not be able to pick you up today,” she said. “Sure.” Once again, I’m trying to sound like I’m going to be fine. Truthfully, I don’t even know where the bus stop is. How

am I supposed to be fine? Yet Rosalle seemed to have an overtime work again. “I’m sorry honey. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. I promise.” “Yeah yeah. I’ll be fine.” I stepped out of the car and found my hair in a mess because of the wind. Rosalle is such a fast driver who is clearly oblivious to the fact. We weren’t even late. “Have fun!” She said then left, her car screeching as it sped away.

*****Chapter 3***** School The sky was rather murkily dark today. The wind was even more upsetting, leaving me goose bumps. I gazed at the towering building that stood before me. Surrounded by a bunch of unusual trees and shrubs, Le Raine High was likely an old manor than a school .I can hardly tell the last time they renovated the place. Or maybe they left it as it is since the time it was built. I suddenly jerked, cutting off my thoughts. The first bell rang. I looked around and saw students entering the school, so I went in as well. I don’t want to be late in the first day of class. I want to cut-class. Then again, I could hear my parents’ hazy voice in my head, bugging my conscience. Other than that, I’m already here so I don’t have a choice, do I? I thought of walking fast, keeping away from people’s stares as much as possible. Regrettably, it invited more probing eyes on me. Persons I passed by always leave their stares behind me, trailing. In some way, it confused me. I don’t remember myself as an attention-grabbing girl at all. When I was in junior high, I was the least noticeable girl in school. I told myself I was invincible. People don’t seem to care about me. They completely ignored me and I am satisfied with that. What more can I ask for when there’s no one existing to bother me? On the other hand, the opposite will most likely to happen in this school. I could picture it out, worse than it may seem. Soon enough, I reached the classroom. I could hear the loud chatters coming from the mousy painted wall. I entered without the slightest ideas of what’s taking place. In seconds, it was dead silent. More eyes were now cast upon me as I remained motionless on the floor. Their stares were fazing, making me stunned. “G-good morning!” I stammered and stride on the farthest seat anxiously, trying hard to ignore them. But it worsened. I’m getting paranoid. What’s the matter with this people? I could still feel their stares, inviting jitters on my skin. They were chatting again, sneakily peering at me, when the door swung open. A tall man with messy, tawny hair and a pair of thick glasses walked his way in front of the classroom, holding a bag. The content I presumed to be biology books and reference materials. Everyone settled down and faced him causing the indescribable tension in me to increase. “Let’s make Biology a fun and exciting class,” Mr. Moore said, tilting his glasses towards his eyes. He was unpersuasive

when he said those words. He seems strict and intimidating. On top of that, he seems boring. “You.” I jerked from my seat as he pointed at me. I haven’t done anything except listen inattentively to all his blabbers. (Does that count?) I wonder what he wants. “Kindly introduce yourself. In front please.” I nodded. Everyone turned their heads at me again, making me really uneasy. Considering I’ve got a strict teacher for biology, I think I won’t last long in this room. Immediately, I stood up and said my name out loud reluctantly, my heart racing as their eyes were glued on me with curiosity. This was not the way I expected things to happen. Not this way when everyone looks at you as if you’re unwanted. “My name is Claire Sinne. Nice to meet you all.” I made it as fast as possible. There’s no way I’m going to stand there and share my life to strangers even if that’s what they want me to. Distrust and suspicion gets the best of me especially in this kind of situation, facing a crowd of intrusive students. As I finished, I saw someone smirked. My eyebrows narrowed while I went back to my seat. Afterwards the door creaked again, opening widely to reveal a short girl standing before it. She looked worn out, clasping her books tightly on her chest. Now, everyone’s attention was on her. I was thankful she came or else Mr. Moore will ask me questions endlessly. He was most likely to call me once more to speak in front of the class when the girl paced across the room. “I bet she came across a black cat again,” a guy in front of me whispered to his seatmate, smirking. Judging by the way he behaves conceitedly and unpleasantly, I will probably dislike him. No. I do dislike like him. First impressions last. Both of them were snickering horridly as the girl went to her seat, surprisingly beside me. “You’re late again Hawthorne.” Mr. Moore said bleakly without furthering anymore. The girl bent her head down and replied softly, “I’m sorry, Mr. Moore. I just——” But he didn’t seem to hear her. He moved on to the discussion instead while the girl kept herself busy, scribbling on her notebook. She seemed distant. She seemed to have a world of her own. For the his question the function high we were

rest of the period, Mr. Moore would let me answer such as ‘what makes up a living thing’ and ‘explain of mitochondria’. I knew that already. Since junior having that in class. And even until now, it is

still discussed. I hope it will come to an end when I reach college. I don’t like biology at all. Funnily enough, I was good at it. Nonetheless, I gained more prying eyes. The bell sounded heaven. At last, biology is over. I can’t wait to get out of the room and feel the fresh air. Just now, things were pressuring. My classmates weren’t that welcoming. Some were even awful. Looking forward for nice people in this school is rather impossible. I wonder if even one does exist. I still wish. I sling my bag on my shoulder, feeling the weight that made me struggle on the way to the next class. I had three thick books inside. One is Biology Essentials. It’s more like an encyclopedia that sometimes it urges me to leave it at home instead. Bad enough for me since it’s a must-bring item so I ended up placing it in my bag. The other one is an English textbook, a compilation of contemporary literatures. Lastly, I have in me a precious pocketbook-novel, my sole salvation from reality, a novel that brought me to another world. So captivating. So interesting. But face it, I’m the character of a story called The Reality and set before me is a distinct view of what life truly is: dreary and most of the time…cruel. Profound thoughts ceased when I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. It’s a surprise rather, thinking I was unwelcome. “Hey!” A red-haired girl with tiny spots on her cheeks came towards me. Her hair sways in the air as she took long steps to me. “Hey.” I said back impassively, not expecting for someone to approach me after the distressing biology class. My suspicion at this moment is escalating. Thinking she’s possibly one of those nosy classmates a while ago, I have to act cold. “I saw your biology book at Moore’s class and I was wondering if I could—” She was finding her words. “I was wondering if I could borrow it. Just today.” Eased as she had at last said it, I bobbed my head in consent. Unsettling guilt pierced my prejudiced soul. Her intentions were clean. How did I end up on such assumptions when I barely knew her? I felt so guilty and unfair. To lend her the book is the least I can do to alleviate the guilt. “You can return it tomorrow.” “Wow! Thanks!” I handed it to her, seeing her sincere appreciation. My lips rose up to my cheeks. I was smiling.

“Sure! No problem.” “By the way, I’m Cristina Locke.” She held out her hand to me. “Claire Sinne.” I said as we shake hands. “Wow! So you must really be related to Rosalle Sinne?” “Er- Yeah… She’s my aunt.” “Cool! You know what? I’m an avid fan of hers. I bought her books and they were really great! I even told daddy to bring me to New York just to see her in Comic Con and to know that she’s living here in Le Raine, I feel so happy! Plus I met her niece. Isn’t it great?” “Oh… Yeah! It is——great.” That moment, hard to believe it is true, I met a friend. She was not difficult to be with although there are times when she leaves me and chats with some of our classmates. She was a girl of a thousand words to share. In short, she likes to gossip. Conversely, I don’t find her troublesome. Just as long as she doesn’t interfere with whatever I’m doing. The last class of the day, P.E., was about to end. The sky, dark as it was before, turned far darker this afternoon. I had the thought that it will rain any time this morning but still, not even a drizzle passed by. Perhaps the clouds like to gather in the sky, sharing its gloom on me. But I’ve got a plenty of it now. What could be gloomier than my arid life? Really. Le Raine has a weird weather. P.E. is the least subject I’m good at. I’m poor when it comes to health. My physique tells it all. I have a poor body, barely having fats under my skin. I could hardly finish a race track without stumbling or hyperventilating. Enduring in an hour’s activity is a miracle for me. And unfortunately, we have swimming for P.E. “Proceed to the swimming pool next meeting!” Our professor, Mr. Lewis, whose belly is protruding under his gray shirt, dismissed us. Everyone was paying attention to him unlike in other subjects. The reason behind is that Mr. Lewis was the dreaded teacher of the school, as what I have heard from Cristina and I can attest to that. He made half of the class stand all through out his discussion about swimming, only because they hadn’t answered his question ‘what is swimming for you’ correctly. The start of the statement should be, as what he explained afterwards, ‘Swimming for me is…’ “This only shows you are not listening to me!” He barked, causing the others to shudder in fright. As for me, I was saved.

I heard what he said clearly. Just that, why is he making a big deal out of it? It’s just swimming? Oh come on! Cristina’s face was pale as we left the gym. She was one of those who stood up during Mr. Lewis’ class. “I don’t like him!” She cried. Her forehead puckered as she went on complaining. Eventually, I gave up on words to make her feel better. Useless. She won’t listen anyway. “He’s intimidating,” I said, pointing out my views of him, not minding whether Cristina took it as an uplifting statement or not. She was a model student, as what she claimed herself to be, and to stand up in class while others sit comfortably on their seats (she was referring to me) was really mortifying. “It’s the most horrible thing that has happened to me!” She wailed. She was overreacting. “I guess not. Just think of this as a nightmare.” There are lots of things far worse than these. I want to tell her that but thought I should not. Her perception of what’s horrible is absurd. To reach the parking lot was the thing I’m expecting the most. I can’t wait to get out of here, out of this forest-like school. Just then, my eyes rested on a red Mustang, parking at the corner of the lot. It was an old model but whether new or not never mattered to me. It was a thing I longed for ever since I was 14. I wonder when I could drive my own car. It was past 5 in the afternoon. The sun was nowhere to be seen and the sky is turning gray. Everyone was on their way home, including Cristina, who left me to get her car. “Hey Claire, what time will your aunt pick you up?” She asked before turning away. I remembered Rosalle telling me I have to go home by myself today. “I’ll take the bus.” “Oh. I see. Hey let’s hang around the town!” “But Rosalle… She’s going to look for me.” “Then call her. This is going to be fun!” Cristina was apparently eager about this. If I should’ve known better, she loves to hang out in malls and restaurants than to stay and rest in her house. Since she was insisting it, and I’ll feel guilty if I refuse her, I called Rosalle. To my surprise, she allowed me to come with Cristina. I was hoping she will not permit me but then she was more open to the idea.

“Okay. But be sure to come home by 7.” She said then hung up. I turned to Cristina, hiding my dismay of Rosalle. She was smiling, satisfaction bared on her freckled face. She hurried to the Mustang I was admiring and surprisingly, it was hers. I opened the car’s door and settled myself inside, resting my head. Now I’m going to get a full picture of Le Raine.

*****Chapter 4***** Le Raine More and more trees. I can see more and more trees as we passed the dusky streets of Le Raine. It is a small town actually, with old-looking buildings, the kinds I’ve seen only in timeworn movies, sloping along the side roads. Seemingly, the town didn’t change since the late 1900’s. What’s with those short-roofed stores? And those Old English-prints that hang by the light posts? Isn’t it a bit too outdated? I feel I’m an old, lost lady as well. Inside of Cristina’s Mustang was almost unpleasant as seeing the grasslands and trees by the roadside. It’s not because I’m dying to have a car of my own too, but because she was driving really slow, so slow that I could see a clear picture of everything in Le Raine. And I reminded myself of what she had said: hang around the town. What more do I expect? As soon as we reached the center of the town, things gradually changed. There maybe some obsolete structures left but surprisingly, modern establishments are already constructed. This is confusing me. Le Raine got two divisions: the old Le Raine and the present Le Raine. And right now, I’m in the present Le Raine, hanging around with Cristina. The school and Rosalle’s home, however, are stuck in the old Le Raine enclosed by towering trees. “Have you tried Don Rico’s yet?” I shook my head. Cristina was overly eager about everything right now. She would point at whatever we passed on our way and tell me about them. All I did was to respond ‘Oh’, ‘Ah’ and ‘I see’. It didn’t matter because she was so absorbed by what she was doing. “I haven’t gone out since I arrived here. This is my first time seeing the town.” “For real?!” “Yeah. Rosalle is always busy at work and I hardly know people, so there’s no one to come along with me.” The truth is I don’t hate it. I preferred to stay at home than wander in this peculiar town. I am contented in reading my pocketbooks and surfing the internet. “That’s sad,” Cristina’s face turned like her words: sad. She felt two things for me. First, she feels sorry because I was friendless. And second, she feels proud of herself because she became my first friend in town. “Well, not to worry sister. Cristina is here. I will show you the beauty of Le Raine.”

I smiled wryly. ‘Don’t make me laugh’ was the one I wanted to say. The word beauty perplexed me. How can a place so dark and murky be beautiful? Isn’t ironic, don’t you think? *** We had dinner afterwards. Cristina pulled over in front of an Italian-designed restaurant with a glowing sign board which reads: Jewel’s. Her energy is still high. There will be no way to keep her quiet for now. “Uhm!” Cristina exclaimed in the middle of her eating. “I’ll show you something interesting.” “Oh. Alright,” I said nonchalantly. Truly I’m not really looking forward to it. But Cristina didn’t seem to perceive my apathetic answer. Instead, she kept on chattering. “I tell you. It’s a must-see.” She stressed. “Really? What is it?” Her eyes were twinkling and her wistful expression had enticed my curiosity. “A mansion,” she dreamily muttered. I gave her a baffled look. Mansions appear ordinary to me. “What’s with the mansion?” I asked. “What’s with the mansion?!” Cristina, clearly showing she pities my oblivious nature regarding Le Raine and its people, repeated what I had just said in disbelief. Her round, incredulous eyes widened. “Because they are owned by the Laurels.” “Oh. I haven’t heard of them.” “Seriously?! They’re famous! They are highborn, influential people who own vast lands and truckloads of cash. And they hold party almost every night. Not to mention their only guests are well-known and elites. They are genuinely royalty.” I watched how Cristina talked so enthusiastically about them. She was almost running out of breath yet her eagerness kept her on talking. The Laurels made a huge impact on her that she was frantically telling me facts pertaining to them. Facts I don’t think significant to me in any way. She said that the Mr. Laurel owned lots of estates and Le Raine High School is one of them. The mistress of the house was said to be a beautiful lady who is enthralled in her own vanities. She had a wardrobe twice the size of Le Raine High’s classroom. Imagine how big and wide

it is. And recently, she bought a 24-K golden necklace with her face engraved on the pendant. In spite of this, people let her off, claiming it’s only normal for rich people, like her family. They waste money. They have billions so it’s not a big deal. They might be even worrying on how to spend it. How complicated, I thought, the lifestyle of the rich and the famous must be. “And Evan, my prince! He’s every girl’s dream guy. He’s cool. He’s beautiful. He’s rich.” I simply nodded, smiling secretly at Cristina, thinking how funny she looks like. Her eyes were twinkling again. As far as I could tell, Cristina worships this Evan like a god. She adores him and I bet all the girls in Le Raine too. She was more engrossed in him than the other boring topics she had mentioned. So, he was the piece that completed the Laurels. Even as we went home, Cristina didn’t seem to get tired of talking. She jumps from one topic to another, but the Laurels is one thing she can’t leave behind. My ears were already burning. Listening to her gets pretty tiring. I want to reach Rosalle’s house as soon as possible. To last in Cristina’s Mustang; an hour will be a miracle. Amazingly, I did. Street lamps lighted our way as we passed along Franklin Street when my eyebrows narrowed as I tried to discern an image floating in the pavement. A ghost? I thought, feeling the chills running down my spine. Ridiculous. But then, considering it is Le Raine, it could be possible. In fact it’s no far from a ghost town. I stared at the animated figure that seemed to be a shadow under the luminous street. It was moving slowly. As we got ahead, I recognized at once who it was. “Hawthorne!” I abruptly said, causing Cristina to stop talking, surprised by my sudden utterance. “Hawthorne? Emily Hawthorne?” She asked; a sound of displeasure in her voice. “Is that her name? The one who came late during Bio?” “Yeah. Why? What’s with her?” “Nothing. It’s just that I saw her just now.” I gazed from the side mirror of the car, watching Emily’s blurry image fading from the distance. Her person is a mystery to me. Train of thoughts, and they were all about her, ran through my mind as Cristina talked again.

“It’s best if you let her be.” I believe it was a prohibition rather than an advice. She seemed to be distracted and the only reason I came up with is it’s because of Emily. Does Cristina hate her? Recently, things around Le Raine are intriguing. I dare not ask her for further detail. In no time, she was back to her old self once more. We turned to an elevated pavement. I was entranced by what was set before me. “It’s pretty.” I murmured, watching intently at the blushing trees that were planted along the road. Its leaves were falling, dancing in the air as they descend down the ground. Cherry blossoms. I didn’t expect to find one here especially in Le Raine when, for me, is the home of all overgrown trees. I never imagine having a paradise in hell. “Hey Claire! Look over there!” I peered by the window, seeing an enormous mansion situated on top of a hill with long, soaring walls built on its base. Yet there was a strange sensation that lingered around it, somewhat disturbing and unexplainable. “Isn’t it beautiful? Just to enter that heaven will appease my yearning soul.” Cristina dramatically said. She was already exaggerating her emotions over everything Laurel-ian. “You haven’t?” I asked for the sake of responding to her. “Not a chance. I’m too scared to do it on my own.” “Then pull over here. Let’s check it out.” “Seriously Claire… You are something.” She rolled her eyes. “You think it’s an amusement park that people could visit freely?” “I suppose…” “You’re one funny girl,” she shook her head in disbelief. “That mansion is exclusive! There’s no way people like us could get there unless there’s a miracle.” I remained silent. Cristina was such a desperate person and the best thing that I can do right now is to understand her despair. Soon enough, the Cherry Blossom Hill and the Laurel mansion could hardly be seen. We are nearing Rosalle’s place.

***

The walled lamps lighted Rosalle’s porch as we arrive. Cristina didn’t bother getting out of her car. “Thanks for the ride!” I said, standing behind the closed, metal door. “No problem. See you in school tomorrow!” She turned the wheels and left. I sighed. At last, it was over. Apparently it had been a long tiring day. To be home is relieving. “I’m home!” I called out, hearing footsteps coming from the kitchen. “Oh you’re back!” Rosalle stood by the telephone, wearing a white apron with frills stitched on the hemline. She’s talking with someone on the other line. “Nice timing. Hurry! It’s your mom.” She handed me the phone as we she went to the kitchen. She was roasting a chicken and its aroma made my stomach grumble. I wasn’t able to eat much with Cristina’s babbles. As the spirit of the roasted chicken got through my olfactory sense, I learned I was hungry. But food can wait. I’m so excited to hear Laura’s voice once again. “Hello?” “Honey!” Laura exclaimed. She was still as bubbly as before. Regardless of her vivaciousness, I know she felt sad and soppy as well. “How are you doing? How’s school? Did you have much fun?” The expected question. I sighed and answered, “Oh. School was——great!” Lie! Since when did school become great? Boring teachers and annoying classmates, I don’t see any worth in them. To wake up in the morning is another torment for my hopeless being. Somehow I manage to get up and go to school, although forcibly, for her and Peter’s sake. “Oh I’m so happy! Just do your best honey.” “Yes mom.” I hung up the telephone then went to the kitchen to have dinner. Rosalle smiled approvingly. She heard most of our conversation and was touched by the mom-daughter telephone call. “She misses you too.” “I know.”

“Anyway, how did your ‘hanging out’ go?” “It was cool. Cristina and I went to Downtown. Then we ate pizza at Jewel’s. Then we passed Cherry Hill. Then she showed me the Laurel mansion.” I narrated. “Oh… The Laurels’,” Rosalle simply said though her expression showed interest when I mentioned the Laurels. It’s such a wonder how appealing the Laurels could be. Even Rosalle is affected. However, she didn’t dwell on the subject like I thought she would. She placed a slice of chicken on my plate instead. “Thanks!” I said then took a bite immediately. She laughed quietly as she watched me eating. “Laura told me you can’t cook. Is that true?” She questioned. I frowned. Laura? How could she talk behind my back? Worse, it’s my weakness that she shares to the people. “Certainly not! I know how to cook corned beef, scrambled egg, hotdog, bacon and ham!” I countered. “Yeah right. You only know how to cook fried foods.” I munched my meal grumpily. Rosalle is making fun of me again. It’s becoming her hobby. There are times when I think of doing the same thing on her but she always outwitted me. The brain of a prodigy is too wise to beat, but not forever. I’ll have my time. “Anyway, about the ‘making-up-to-you’ thing——” I turned to her. “What about it?” “I guess I have two to make up for.” I raised an eyebrow and wondered what she was talking about. “Why?” “You see I can’t drop you to school tomorrow. I’ll be leaving early for work.” “Ok…” This time I’m riding the bus for sure. “And you know what, taking the bus to school is really fun and most students do that,” she laughed hoarsely, attempting to make it sound like what she has said.

I looked at her grimly. “Actually, they’ve got cars…” I muttered crossly. How I wish I own one too, to end my misery. What if I get lost tomorrow? Rosalle will really regret saying ‘taking bus is fun’. Almost immediately, we ended the conversation by Rosalle apologizing. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” She hurriedly left for her workroom while I climbed upstairs to get some rest. My body feels weak already. A lot of thing happened today. Rosalle. School. Cristina. Le Raine. Laura. It made me very tired so I lay on my bed and hugged my pillow. The empty night sky on my window resembled a painting hanging by the pink-painted wall. It was strange, causing the leaves of the overgrown trees in Rosalle’s yard to rustle a grotesque lullaby. It was hypnotic. My eyelids struggled to open but were heavy. My vision was slowly blurring. In no time, I was in a deep sleep.