Story Book

I have always thought churches are beautiful. I've only been in a church twice in my lifetime. The first time was when I was baptized, to young to even remember or understand. Not old enough to take in the atmosphere and the beauty of the church layout.

The second time was when I was thirteen. We lived a few houses down from the local church my bus dropped me off at the church driveway, one day I got curious. Even thou at this point I still believed that unless there was solid proof, there was nothing to believe.

But that notion didn't dim my curiosity. I stepped forward an odd calm came over my body. I felt like a blanket had been gently placed over my shoulders, peace filled my body as I entered. It was the same church I was baptized in.

For someone who didn't believe, I certainly found myself wondering. I spent mere seconds in the church before the thoughts of how I was lying drove me out of the church in a sprint. I ran all the way home, threw the graveyard where there was a short cut instead of walking the long way around.

I did this often, but this time it was different. The peace and calm I had felt seemed to melt away, these people buried here truly believed, when I did not. And here I was trampling on their faith.

I pushed myself faster.

Ever since that day whenever I pass a cemetery or when I walk the long way home, I lift my hand to forehead, down to my chest across to my left shoulder and then straight towards my right.

Yet I still do not believe.

What I had believed in thou still rang threw my ears. I imagined someone reading my storybook full of adventure, love, friendships and happiness.

Another way to prove how wrong I was, these hopes for myself never came true. My story was not exciting in reality my eighteen year old, a senior in high school life was dull and had a fair lack of friendships since my mother's death two years ago.

I seemed to drift away even farther. I now walk on the opposite side of the road from the church which sits next to the cemetery where my mother is buried.

I lost many people in my life, after losing my mother, but their was one person that never let me push him away. His name was Noah Jean, when Noah made an appearance at school the odd time he went, he made the halls that seemed to empty full.

He was my best friend.

But Noah, rarely went to school he liked to think his absent days where his course mark. Knowing this I was surprised to see him standing in front of my locker. Ipod in hand he shook his wet golden brown hair to the beat of the one ear bud that was stuck in his ear.

I raised an eyebrow, his leather jacket had the remains of a few rain drops. “You drove your bike in the rain without a helmet? Again?”

“Always a pleasure to see you too Clarissa Norman.” Noah replied sarcastically rolling his chocolate brown eyes at me as he looked down from his 6''2 height to my mere 5''4.

“And what brings the amazing Noah Jean to school?” I replied shoving him aside so that I could open my locker. As I did so I tugged on my dark green shirt down and my dark blue jeans that where a size to large for me up.

My father had gone shopping for me. He got me two shirts both – very - long sleeved, a dark purple and the green one I was wearing. They where just a bit to small in length area, father didn't take in account for the material it would take to cover my average breasts. So now my shirt was ridden up my waist, and my pants where ridding down.

It was a nice gesture, and this was me thanking him. Flashing everyone my mid drift.

“Miss Thomas said something about suspension....” Noah trailed off like it was no big deal, shrugging ever so slightly.

“Aha, nothing like the fear of not having the choice to come to make Noah get up of his bottom.” I retorted pulling out a chemistry 12 textbook and the purple notebook that went with it.

“Do you really want to talk about my bottom Clarissa?” Noah asked me raising a suggestive eyebrow to me.

I smacked him on the shoulder and closed my locker, “Come on, you sexy man we have to get to class.”

That night I had the same dream I've had since I was a child, I believed it came from one of the stories that my mother would read to me, I was a princess I had a true love, my parents ran a kingdom and there was a library full of books. It was a strange dream, it upset me yet I felt so at home in the dream.

“Remember to make sure you calculate your molar masses correctly, if you don't everything else will be wrong.” Mr. Vincer spoke as he walked up and down the aisles of desks passing out the unit test.

I sighed taking the cover off my calculator and then turned my head to stare out the window. The Eastern Shore District High School was only two floors in shape of a horse shoe, it had a population of around five hundred students.

It was small enough to know mostly every-ones name and if you didn't know their name you recognized them. It was easy to pick out the new kids, since everyone has been going to the same school since grade seven, before that there is three elementary schools that feed into Gaetz Brook Junior High that went up to grade nine. After that everyone went to the same high school.

Small and quite, the boys wore plaid jackets and worked at the fish market. The girls wore fitted jeans, nice shirts that where sometimes plaid, most worked as cashiers to the local superstore. It was strange how five hundred people could have all once said that they wore plaid in high school worked at the superstore or the fish market.

Not that there was not diversity, of course there was, its high school.

We had our deal of people who preferred to smoke then go to class, girls and boys who wore all black and listened to metal, girls who worried more about their hair then if they where going to graduate, boys who thought they were all that, those who preferred to hang out in the band room at lunch.

But with such a small population it was not rare that these and many more personalities over lapped.

It was what high school was all about finding yourself. I knew this quite well it was one of those things I was so excited for when I thought about how I would entertain the person reading my book. But I also knew that I was still very lost.

Wandering around with no directions, and little care of what path I was taking.

It was almost as if something was missing, I was searching for that missing piece but I've never found it.

I checked my molar mass three times before proceeding, taking my time making all the mathematical steps flow together well chemistry intertwined itself to the mathematical equations. When I was finished I flipped over my test, put my pencil done and arranged my desk so that my pencil, eraser and calculator all sat in a row on top of the turned over test.

And then I proceeded to stare out the window hoping that the missing piece would magically appear.