Appassionata

Disgust. That was all Ronnie Milano felt as she sat in her soon-to-be-no-longer bedroom, averting her eyes from the dull card board boxes that lent against walls and invaded space. The idea of moving was anathema to her, she never wanted to leave her house and had never intended to, especially not because of the effects of her parent’s divorce. But circumstances had travelled so far from control, and no longer was there anything she or her mother could do to make things better. Simone had tried to make things work with their father, but he was just as horrid and as big a bully as ever. She’d finally had enough of him and that was why they were leaving for Essex tomorrow.
Ronnie supposed that by waiting till the last minute to start disturbing her belongings would prolong the agony that she would inevitably have to go through, but all it had done was keep her thinking about how things were going to drastically change, and so soon.
“Look, Ronnie, I know you don’t want to do this but you’re leaving tomorrow morning,” Lace said as she sat beside her twin on her double bed. “You need to get packed. I’ll help you.”
Ronnie harrumphed in response. She didn’t want to see her possessions torn away from her sisters, saw the idea of leaving the busy city of London to move to the quiet countryside absurd. But what could she do? No one could cope in a house where everyone swore all the words under the sun at each other every day. It was their fathers fault. He was to blame.
Ronnie looked at Lace in sorrow; she was the spitting image of her. They both attired the same wavy black hair, soft skin and well-portioned physique, but Lace in fashion was the opposite of her sister’s tomboyish style, never would she be caught in sneakers and shorts.
“Lace, I don’t want to leave, I’ll be lost without you. How will I cope?” All the questions Ronnie had withheld from asking for the past few weeks suddenly came out in a massive slur. “Why are you staying here? It’s ridiculous. Stop feeling sorry for dad and come with me and mum. We can make it work, you and me.”
Lace shook her head and sighed, Ronnie laid her head against her sister’s shoulder. “It was the decision we all came to, Ron-bon. I’ll still talk to you on the phone and see you on some half-terms. It’s not like we’re never going to see each other again. Trust me, you’ll be fine.”
She hoped that was true. “Can I write you?”
“Write me? What like letters?”
Ronnie nodded.
“This isn’t the eighteenth century, Ronnie. Nobody writes anymore.”
“Please?”
Lace wrapped her arms around her sister. “How about a compromise? How does just texting sound to you? Texts I can promise with my soul to reply to. I never go anywhere without my phone.”
“Fine,” Ronnie settled. “I suppose it’s good enough and the most you’ll agree to. Thanks.”
The great crystal chandelier which had inhabited their room for the best part of ten years glistened above their beds, each piece twinkling like eyes resisting tears. From the open patio, the thick curtains reached out trying to take the twins in an embrace and the surrounding furniture cuddled up, making the most of the last moments they’d all have together. Hundreds and hundreds of DVD’s lined the walls, the romance ones kept in their own special place—after all they were the best and the one’s the girls’ enjoyed the most. The lilac walls wore posters of crushes and the door sported its years’ worth of graffiti.
When Ronnie left tomorrow, things were going to be different and as she saw fit, not for the better. She was leaving her twin, her friends, her school, her memories, all behind and starting afresh in a place she had never visited. It wasn’t fair and what was worst was that she couldn’t stay; it was in everyone’s best interest for things to end, even if she didn’t necessarily agree.
“Knock, knock,” a small voice sang from the door. Megan entered with a sheepish grin on her face. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything. Your mum told me to come straight up. I just wanted to say bye.”
Megan was one of the tallest girls in their year and also one of the most confident. Ronnie and Lace had grown close to her in the start of high school and since then they’d all been inseparable, always going out together and sitting in groups in school. She had bright pink hair and lip piercings and always wore the most fashionable of clothes. You could always count on her for a good night out.
“No, it’s fine,” Ronnie smiled, wiping some stray tears from her cheek. “We were just about to start . . . um—”
“Packing.” Lace finished what Ronnie couldn’t. “Want to help us shove her shit into some boxes?”
“Shit?” Ronnie remarked with a sob of laughter. “Excuse me, but to me it is your stuff that is shit.”
“That’s because you have no taste.”
“Girls,” Megan smiled, putting together one of the cardboard cut-outs. “Cut the crap and pull together. We’ve got work to do.”

“Ah, do you remember this diary?” Lace sobbed a half-hour later, waving a black and white swirl notebook in the air. “We’d all write our secret messages in it at lunch time so people wouldn’t over hear who we were crushing on, remember? We were such goofs back then.”
“That was so much fun,” Megan agreed with a weak laugh as she studied a photograph of the three of them together outside the London Eye. “I’m going to miss our days out so much.”
Ronnie sat on her bed, a box at her side, taking the contents of her bedside table out and packing them away. Her unfinished romance novel still had its bookmark in place and her iPod docking station was still set for the seven a.m. alarm. She sighed. She’d miss everything so much when it was gone.
Lace tied her long hair back into a pony tail and smudged mascara down her face. It would be weird to not see her every day, to not borrow her clothes or study her alikeness. Everything about her was to be severely missed. And tomorrow, it would all be left behind.

One year later

In the deepest depths of darkness
There comes a piercing light
Where your soul becomes awakened
Amongst the fiery night
In this moment your hearts renew
The light become a part of you
To see the past will ever last
This part of time will go so fast
The seas will churn
The winds will whistle
To come to yearn
Amid the thistles
Light will banish that which loomed
To be reborn no longer doomed
A miraculous sight shall be uncovered
To see a love and be recovered
It was the first day back at school after the summer holidays and Ronnie awaited authority in her more than occupied English class reading unanswered texts. She’d forgotten to charge her mobile during the summer weeks as the hot sun was much too rare to miss—especially when Lace was there to enjoy it with.
Her thumb hovered over the delete button, indeed it was somewhat of an unusual message to receive and there had been many recently which her mother had shared. Usually they would be erased without a moment’s hesitation but for some peculiar reason this was not one of them.
“That’s a strange one,” Gem said. Her voice was muffled behind a heap of muffin and she wagged her index finger at the screen. “It’s got to be a sign.”
“You think everything’s a sign.”
“Because it is! They say that things happen for a reason so there has to be a reason to you having that text.”
Ronnie shook her head in opposition. Such strange things were spoken from the black lips of one Gem Stone, things that to the community of the norm were not to be looked upon lightly. Since Ronnie’s arrival to the town of Driftwood some months ago, Gem had become her closest and only friend. She was unusual in her ways to say the least, an outcast from the rest of the student body, doodling odd little sketches and symbols within an old leather bound diary which she carried around with her everywhere.
“And the fact that I receive a chain message every other day tells you what?” Ronnie queried Gem’s gothic-styled face.
“That for the first time you have reluctance to actually delete one so there has to be something more to it—like a foretelling, perhaps?”
“My goodness, will you ever give up with this future mojo stuff?”
“That depends. Will you ever believe it’s true?”
“If I ever have reason to, then yes, maybe I will.” Ronnie saved the message and pocketed the phone away. “But we’ll just have to wait and see.”
“There seems to be a lot of that happening recently.”
An inquiry as to the meaning of that sentiment would have been uttered then had it not been for the schools Queen Bee, Sky, making herself known. With her pitchy voice and bleached hair, she entered the class backward, slightly bent over, her face consisting of that oh so famous pouting expression that was always inhabitant upon her tanned face. Her eyes were wide, arms outstretched, her usual stubbornness apparent as she tried to entice someone in.
“Come on, Darien,” she whined, taking several steps back into the room, “don’t ditch me now. Please!”
The boy who was unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of her manicured hands kept his voice low and his eyes averted from all surroundings, fixed solely on Sky, who tried to keep him to herself. Nothing spoken from Darien’s lips was established, but Ronnie found herself wanting to meet them with her own. It was a strange thought indeed, never had she thought such a thing so suddenly before, and now that she had, wondered where it had blossomed from.
She strained to hear further; it wasn’t every day that you saw Sky Connor having to beg a boy to follow her. It was practically a phenomenon.
Gem nudged Ronnie’s arm, a probable hint that she was gawping to the extent of crazy. The howl of a wolf-whistle hollered from behind and both Darien and Sky turned to capture the source. Ronnie stiffened. Darien’s intense eyes met hers and her breath caught—they were so familiar, she could have sworn she’d looked into them once before. His were blue, extraordinary, splashed with flecks of purple and flashing like a tropical storm. His dark hair was the colour of sweet chestnuts. He had a strong jaw, high cheekbones and smooth creamy skin. But his eyes were fathomless and the longer Ronnie held the lock of them the more she found herself overwhelmed by their depths. Even from such a distance apart she could see they’d seen much history. She’d not seen eyes like that before.
He was the first to look away, his grip tightening on Sky’s hand. He whispered something in her ear and then, alongside the immediacy of the ringing bell, broke free and began for the corridor.
His eagerness to depart so suddenly was a much questionable attribute to Ronnie and she pondered why it was he seemed so restless. Though, admitted, the look of bewilderment which clouded Sky’s ready to be kissed features was much of an amusement that didn’t go without gratification.
“Um, since when is there a new guy?” Ronnie asked, somewhat perplexed.
Gem’s forehead creased and a sudden spurt of food flew from her mouth and onto the back of Kate Andersons dress. Gem stifled a laugh and waved it away. “Since when did you not know? Everyone was only talking about it for, oh, I don’t know, months before and throughout the summer. What realm were you in?”
“A very high up one,” Ronnie said. “Where was I when this was all happening?”
“Right there within it all. Don’t you remember?”
Ronnie cast her mind back to the exam season, it certainly rang no bells. She had a difficult time remembering what day of the week it was let alone that. “I don’t.”
Gem smiled though the concern which twitched at its corners was apparent. “Well, there is, as you now know from that little scenario that just happened there.” She wagged her hand in the direction of the door. “His name is Darien Sommers. Sky and her groomers”—Gem pointed between Kate and the girl next to her, Grace, who sat in the seat in front—“were heard gossiping in the P.E changing rooms about this hotty that Sky had supposedly started seeing during the holidays. Apparently his parents bought the house next door to hers and they were going to start moving in over the couple of weeks leading up to summer. The weird thing is though is that he lives there all by himself.” Gem seemed to reflect on this for a second before continuing. “What’s even stranger is that the house is huge, and I mean huge.”
Ronnie shrugged. “And what? You’re thinking of moving in with him?”
“Well obviously, do you even need to ask?” she chuckled. “But aside from that why would you buy what is practically a mansion sized house, if you’re never going to be there and the only one there to enjoy it is your eighteen year old son?
Ronnie opened her mouth and hoped some wise-cracking speech would come by way of reply. But she was speechless, so instead just shook her head and said, “I don’t know. Why would they?”
“Beats the hell out of me,” Gem said, “but if you ask me, I don’t think there are any parents. They’re said to be out on work a lot, but it’s been eight weeks and they’ve still yet to make themselves known. I just don’t know why anyone would leave their son for that long. I mean isn’t he lonely, doesn’t he miss them?” She didn’t give time enough for a response. “But what gets me even more than that is that they left him here to start school all by himself, and he’s in the same year as us!”
“I thought you said he was eighteen. Wouldn’t that put him in the year above?”
“He’s probably missed a year or two of school. It depends on his birthday.” Then in a whispered tone she finished, “I just hope that Sky isn’t seeing him. I want him to be single; it’s been such a long time since there’s been fresh meat in this school . . . in the guy department I mean.” She patted Ronnie’s arm. “Not that you’re not stunning too but I just don’t swing that way.”
Ronnie made a deliberate display of showing her crossed fingers. “Well, thanks. And for your sake I hope Sky hasn’t got her claws in him yet.”
Sky had since taken her seat between Kate and Grace, adjusting the crystal tie she wore so it sat above her black knit dress. As far as uniforms went, the dress-code compliancy at Driftwood High was on a very long leash.
“Does it ever bother you how much people take advantage of the no-uniform rule,” Ronnie asked, taking inventory of the class.
“Not so much with the boys—truth be told I’m not too concerned with having to stare at their chests all day.”
Ronnie shook her head. “I thought you didn’t care much for the male population of our school?”
“I don’t, but remember, Ronnie, I am a woman after all.”
Each person may have been insisted on wearing the same bland colours, but on each individual was shown their own unique touch. A couple embraced on a table, each wore black nail varnish, their jewel covered fingers searching each other’s pierced faces. On the floor, lay their bags, both equally covered in an assortment of band badges, signatures and pins. Though both stood out from the rest of their peers, with their dyed black hair and torn blazers, Ronnie could tell that they didn’t care for the opinions expressed toward them, as long as they were entwined in the arms of one another, nothing else mattered. She wished she could share that kind of intimacy with someone.
The mass of students, who had been opposed to entering the room before, started to rush to their tables, falling over their feet and bundling into chairs. It was obvious what that meant: Miss Charles had arrived.
Miss Charles was a tall red headed woman who always wore a somewhat unusual wardrobe. Today she wore a frightful dress that gave the appearance of being chewed up by a combine harvester, completed with splashes of O negative donated by the unfortunate owner. A scarf sporting evil looking clown faces and black knee high boots finished the look. She slammed her bag down on her desk and cast her icy glare upon the students. “Good morning, class.”
One thing all the students of Driftwood High knew was to never get on the wrong side of her. Once, a year eight student had had his bag stolen on the way to school, which held his homework and backed-up USB drive, and when he’d tried to explain this matter, she’d upped his afterschool detention to isolation instead. To say the least, she was quite the moo.
Regardless though, it was Darien’s attire that had Ronnie wound up the most. With his suit jacket over a snug blue shirt and jeans, he was quite the sight. And for the remainder of the day, that image of him stayed fixated within her mind and her heart sank that little bit more as each hour conceded and she realised they were to attend none of the same classes.
And so it was that at the last bell she recognised that Darien Sommers, unknowingly, had her mind in an aching mess, and he’d not ever uttered her one single word.