Freefall

‘Sometimes, you just have to write what you feel in your heart. Sometimes, you need some sort of outlet.’ I looked down at my notebook and laughed at myself. ‘Sometimes, you feel ridiculous doing it.’

I slammed my notebook shut. This was not working. But then, what would? I was bursting with feelings and longings, and writing was the only way I knew to get them all out. Still, a diary was pushing it.

You know your summer’s pathetic when the only thing that will listen to you is a notebook. But I’d expected this. Moving to a town in the middle of nowhere while there was still a month of summer break left might have been the worst thing to ever happen to me.

I knew no one, and I had no car for getting around. My twin brother, Christopher, was with our aunt in Texas. I had refused to go because southern accents bothered me, not to mention how miserable the heat made me.

Now, I was kind of wishing I’d just gone. Basically, I spent every single day, all day, in the house, feeling pathetic and all too alone. Dad was always at work, and Chris wouldn’t be back until three days after the school year started- how he’d managed to talk Dad into that one, I didn’t know.

I’d had friends back in Massachusetts, sure, but none of them had been all that close to me. After a week or so of my moving here, they all but stopped calling. I didn’t call either. What was there to say? Still, though I’d never expected them to remain my friends, it was shocking how quickly and easily I’d been dropped.

I shook my head and got up to brush my teeth. That month before the first day of school had finally passed, and I would be going to La Push High in the morning.

I heard the front door slam and spit out a mouthful of toothpaste so I could holler down the stairs, “Good night, Dad!”

“Night, Honey!” he called back.

I hadn’t seen his face in four days, not that I was counting. Don’t get me wrong, he wasn’t a terrible father and I knew he loved me; he’d just been really busy setting up his new office. Besides, ever since Mom died, he always got this tight look on his face whenever he saw me, like I was torturing him. I knew why.

I looked exactly like my mother, except for my light green eyes. It was no wonder- after all, Mom had grown up as part of the tribe here in La Push, but Dad came from Ireland.

I shook my head and walked back to my bed, stooping to kiss the framed picture of me and Mom that I kept on my nightstand, and settled in for the night.