CHAPTER 2
I turned the radio off when I pulled into my high school’s parking lot in my brand new, mint green Toyota Prius. The car was my eighteenth birthday present from my parents exactly a month ago, and I was still very excited driving it around. Not today, though. That’s because we were running fifteen minutes late, and my sister, Emma, was silently fuming in the front passenger seat. I could almost see smoke coming out of her ears. She was like a cartoon character this morning – like Wile E. Coyote after realizing that there would be no Road Runner for breakfast. Seriously, just like Wile E., my little sister should be used to it by now.
“Sometimes you just look at the clock, and lo and behold, you’re already running late,” I said. “Do you know what I mean?”
“No. I don’t know what you mean, Paige. You look at the clock, and you plan your time accordingly,” she said.
I sighed. My little sister would never understand. She was the smart one with straight As since first grade. She even skipped a grade once; fifth grade, I think. Yay for her. That’s the reason why at sixteen, she’s already a junior in high school. She was also the popular one, the friendly one, the one who helps me with my homework. Okay, that last bit about the homework is kind of embarrassing considering I’m two years older than her, but in my defense, she really is super smart. She must have gotten the smart genes from Dad because sometimes, those two can have a conversation that only they can understand. It’s like they speak in code. I only speak English. I don’t understand code.
“My heart is beating too fast. I think I’m having a panic attack,” Emma said, clutching her chest.
I rolled my eyes. Between the two of us, she was also the one who was a hypochondriac drama queen. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m sure being late won’t screw up your perfect attendance.” I spotted a parking space, and I turned the car slowly towards the spot.
“I should have been born the older sister. Life would have been so much easier,” Emma mumbled. She jumped out of the car and slammed the door shut. She still had one hand to her chest; her other hand was holding on to her backpack.
"It’s dangerous to get out of a moving vehicle,” I yelled, but my sister was already gone. Emma didn’t even bother waving goodbye. Not that I expected her to. It was only the third week of January, just the beginning of second semester, and we were already late to school three times because of me.
I parked the car, unsnapped my seatbelt, and reached behind the driver’s seat for my army green messenger bag. Unfortunately, I didn’t feel the same sense of urgency that my sister obviously felt. We were already late. What was another ten minutes, right? I still got us here.
I got out of the car with my messenger bag and started walking towards my locker. Of course, my locker was inconveniently located in the farthest corner from the parking lot. I glanced at my watch and groaned. I was already half an hour late. Maybe I should just skip class altogether. I think I would be better off.
The hallway was empty. Even Emma probably made it to class by now. When I turned the corner, I saw him. He was wearing a long black coat, and he was leaning against my locker casually as if he was supposed to be there. I stopped…
Stopped walking.
Stopped breathing.
I just stopped.
Time stood still in a very magical Hollywood moment as this teen, in all of his wonderful glory, literally took my breath away. He was, well, breathtaking. His hair was a little on the long side and jet black. His features were very sharp and strong like a comic book superhero. He was definitely a contender for a young Bruce Wayne because of his dark and brooding expression, and the color of his eyes was so extraordinary. Get this. His eyes were purple. Purple! And he was staring at me with an intense frown on his perfectly beautiful face.
We stood there for what seemed like minutes, just staring at each other, lost in space. I felt off because for the first time in my life, I was speechless. I was never a big talker, mind you, but actually forgetting to say actual words was a new experience for me. I watched the emotions cross his face. His frown became deeper as I continued to stare at him. Then, his eyes narrowed into slits as if he was angry. Was he angry? At me? It sure seemed like it. Why? He didn’t even know me, and he was the one standing in front of my locker, blocking me.
It was his reaction that finally compelled me to move my legs forward. I continued to watch him as his lips tightened, and his purple eyes seemed to get darker. Purpler. I bit my bottom lip hard as I approached him slowly and without saying a word. After all, what could someone who was speechless say? Right. Absolutely nothing.
When I was right in front of him, I stopped. I was average height, but he was so tall that the top of my head was only in line with his chin. I tilted my head up to see his face. He was still frowning. He was also looking at me strangely as if I were an alien from another planet or something. I almost stepped back. I was very insulted. I am no alien, thank you very much. I am very pretty with classic, delicate features, and my skin? Flawless!
I glared at him.
“You can see me,” he accused.
His voice was deep and beautiful, and it triggered a memory. I gasped when I recognized it, and I instantly backed away. My eyes widened in panic. Unfortunately, I understood what he meant. I wasn’t supposed to see him… or hear him… or have conversations with him. His voice is very familiar to me. I would recognize it anywhere because he was the voice of my delusion - my imagination. It didn’t matter that he was handsome and looked like a teenaged Bruce Wayne with really nice purple eyes. He. Did. Not. Exist.
In the last month, ever since my eighteenth birthday, I have heard the sound of his voice… in my head. He spoke to me when I was alone and when everything was quiet. So far, I have managed to block it out, and I haven’t told anyone. I never even acknowledged the voice because talking to it would have been admitting that something was very wrong with me.
Even as gorgeous as he was, seeing him was very bad. He was my ticket to some mental institution somewhere, and I didn’t want that ticket. Actually, I would pay good money not to have that ticket.
“Stay away from me,” I whispered. While still delirious, I turned around quickly. I ran away from him, and the sound of my retreating footsteps sounded like gunshots echoing in the hallway. I felt like a coward, but I wasn’t ready to fall into what I thought was darkness.