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Chapter 1
The horn blared incessantly.
''Shut up!'' I screamed inside my car. The blaring turned into ear-splitting intervals. I groaned and smacked my head into the steering wheel. The jerk behind me transitioned roughly into taking turns with beeping and leaning on the horn. I was extremely ticked by this point.
I slammed my fist into the glass window and amazingly the glass didn’t break in my spurt of rage. One more blow from that infernal horn and my fingers were curled around the handle of the door, yanking it towards me. I swiped my head out of the car and glanced up at the gloomy Seattle sky before twisting to glare at the person in the car behind me. He simply leaned on the horn again, a grin forming slightly, but the rest of his face shrouded. Before I knew it, I’d sprung out of the car and slammed the door shut. I stormed my way to the culprit’s car, halting in front of the driver’s side window. I crouched down, but could only see a silhouette through the highly tinted glass. The window rolled down excruciatingly slowly and I tapped my foot impatiently; waiting. But the face that graced me was not what I was expecting
Utterly perfect . . .
I wasn't one to immediately formulate an opinion based on looks, but those were the first words that popped into my head. They just seemed to fit, however random that may have been. From his pale face stood out twoof the most brilliant eyes I had ever seen eyes. The only colour I could think of to match them would be molten metal, glowing at it's hottest. They were fringed with a bold tint of black around their edges. His face came to a rounded point of a chin, with high cheekbones and a mysterious but dangerous look about him. His skin was pale, but not pasty: almost like a marble pale. His lips were a thin, beautiful line, which at this time were forming into a lopsided smirk. His nose was sculpted perfectly; as close as any nose could get, that is. I took in his floppy black hair. It hung over one of his eyes in a way that made my heart pound; unruly, yet still absolutely perfect.
All this time I stared with shock and awe as he stared back at me, confused at my abrupt odd behavior. “So. . .” a sweet, velvety voice smoothly broke into my ogling. I soon realized it was him and composed myself.
If only looks could kill . . . I glared my hardest at him, which he only returned with a tilt of his head. I stifled my palpitating heart as the rage flowed back over me slowly like lava. I had no idea what had just happened, but no idiot would make a fool of me. I immediately started screaming at him, unleashing every inch of my fury. All the while, he only stared at me, amused, cocking his head to one side in curiosity. In the middle of my incoherent, and not-so-complimentary, speech, the tinted window began to rise quickly up again. Behind the dark glass, I observed the silhouette of his hand, fingers twinkling in a sarcastic wave goodbye. In rage, I stormed to my car, throwing myself in, and banged the door shut again. I rested my hands on the wheel then beat my head into it once to relieve my anger. I scowled back at the silhouette, hoping beyond hope he could see me. Maybe that would wipe the probably-smug expression of his face. The traffic started diminishing slowly but surely, and, of course, he began the infernal horn-blowing again. The heat of my anger washed over me once again, and I clenched my fists, swallowed my urge for vengeance, and tried to remember that I was a sensible human being.

A few days later, all remembrance of the traffic tantrum incident had dissipated; except for that face . . . It haunted me that I’d probably never see him again. After trying to convince myself multiple times that I didn’t want to, I realized that, in all actuality, I really did. In some way or another, I had completely forgotten that this guy was the one who had angered me to the point of my screaming my lungs out at him; I just wanted to see that face and gaze into those captivating ochre orbs again.
School after that was hopeless: I kept staring out of the window, recollecting every minute detail of his angel-like face . . . Then, the bell rang, roughly shoving out my over-obsessive thoughts. This was idiotic. I wasn't a flailing fangirl, hanging on his every move. I was better than this! I blew a strand of my wavy auburn hair out of my face before rolling my eyes and reluctantly getting up to go. I had paid virtually no attention and I would sleep in fear of a pop quiz tonight. My math teacher glared at me from under his spectacles and thinning blonde hair. I trudged out of the room and down the hall, the image of my angel’s face distorted and disrupted from my mind, fortunately. As I traveled down the hall, no one looked my way; I don’t think anyone even noticed me. Oh, I was used to it. My grey eyes searched the hall for anyone interesting to engage in conversation. A trite cheerleader looked promising. As I wandered over to try my luck with the freakishly perky girl, a familiar voice permeated the air.
“Hey! Get your books as fast as you can! I’ll be waiting in the car!” he yelled across the hall. I would recognize that voice anywhere . . .
“Oh, shoot!” I muttered and scrambled to hide myself behind one of the goths of my school. He glared askance at me and I grinned sheepishly, crouching down behind his bulky black-covered figure. Skulking out from behind him, I ran flat-out for the doors, finally reaching my freedom. Then, the horn of the bus sounded, making me sigh in relief. I would go on the bus today and just later explain to my mom I hadn’t made a hassle of begging for a ride from another irritable family.
It was a miracle that I had escaped from that perfect face. I couldn’t let him see me. The incident would cause me embarrassment for the rest of my life, along with my obsession. Ugh! This just wouldn’t work if he was going to pick up his sibling, or friend, or whatever, the rest of the year. Maybe I could transfer . . .
I clambered up onto the bus, finding the furthest seat from the front that was available. I sat down and pulled out my notebook. I had to get his face down. The vigorous strokes of my pencil didn’t give his face enough justice. Ah, it would do for now. If only I had a camera. I gazed out the window the rest of the time before the bus took off. Watching him load his passenger into the black Corvette that was his car, I let out a deep, long sigh. Luckily, for the part of me that was screaming to stop being such a dunce, the seat I was on jerked downward. I jumped at the sound of someone taking a seat beside me. After glancing over suddenly, I looked away again. “Ugh, Mitchell!” I mumbled under my breath. I hastily stuffed my notebook into my backpack, shielding it from his view.
Mitchell was the only person who paid at least minute attention to me. In a big town like Seattle, it’s hard to find even a fair-weather friend for someone like me. Yet, Mitchell at least tried to pay attention to me. He wasn’t exactly a friend, per se, but he was the closest I had to it. “Hey.” I greeted almost inaudibly. I might as well try for some interesting talking. I wasn’t that much of a talker, which was good when you tried making conversation with cheerleaders.
“Hey, Rosette. Your hair looks good today.” I visibly reddened. “How are you?” he asked in his subtly hyper way. His green eyes searched my face and he whipped a wayward strand of his floppy sandy-blonde hair out of his face as he anticipated my answer.
“Oh, same as last time you asked. Everything’s pretty much the same as it always is.” I let out a quiet chuckle. “Making talk with cheerleaders to pass the time, being loathed by teachers; yep, everything’s the same!” I joked and folded my hands in my lap, staring down at them.
“I guarantee it will lessen up sometime.” Mitchell bluffed, trying to cover it up with a glance around the bus for an emo, goth, or popular to terrorize.
“I can tell you’re lying.” I stated bluntly, but I still looked around with him just the same. ‘Watch this . . .’ he mouthed to me and hopped into a seat behind one of the snottiest girls in our school. Leave it to Mitchell to want to terrorize another popular. Removing her backpack from under the seat, he stealthily slipped a few frogs from under his jacket into all the pockets and swiftly slid it back under the seat. He swaggered back over to me and we both turned to observe the entertaining tantrum that was about to happen.
As the girl jabbered on about her new cell phone, she reached for her backpack to confirm its “total coolness!” Mitchell stifled a snicker, but that wouldn’t last for long. A shrill scream echoed through the bus as the innocent amphibians were slapped off her lap by her own hands and the merciless hands of her loyal followers. He couldn’t hold it in any longer: Mitchell burst into such a series of laughter that tears were rolling down his face. As the bus screeched to a stop, the bus driver fearing the worst at the scream, Annabelle Ritchie’s blustering crimson face whipped around toward Mitchell.
“Mitchell Barnes!” she cried, clasping the back of her seat to restrain herself from running up and punching him in the face. Both Mitchell and I couldn’t hold in our laughter. Lucky enough, my stop was next. I strode to the front of the bus, my bag slung over my shoulder, and turned around to wave at Mitchell, but he was already preoccupied with another guy he was laughing along with. Like I said, he tried.

That night, his face was plastered in my mind. I couldn’t shake it off. No matter what I did, that perfect face still got to me; my thoughts still somehow got back around to that smirk he gave me as the window rolled up during my speech. I rolled over in my bed. I’ll never be able to get over him. I thought hopelessly as I tried to close my eyes and rest.
It didn’t work.
Groaning as I rolled onto my back again, I stared up at my textured ceiling. “Why?” I whispered desperately. And --- it gave no response. I glanced over at my alarm clock, noting the time. It was 11:30. I had five minutes until my mom went about her regular routine of eating “breakfast”, pacing about the house, then checking on me before she left for work.
My mom was a “graveyard-shift” nurse, as they called it, whose shift began at 12:15. Yet, she still got up early though the hospital was only ten minutes away. Slightly neurotic, she held a routine each night at 11:35; checking on me. I curled up in my bed, already hearing her shuffling around the house. She’d probably come in early, so I had better get my best act on.
A few minutes later, after shoving him out of my mind and finally almost falling into a deep sleep, she came into my room. I groaned and rolled over a little, just to make it convincing, and I heard her “Aw...” in response. She blew a kiss at me and about fifteen minutes later her truck started up and sped out of the driveway. I raced to the window to make sure she was gone, and then sighed. There was just no getting back to sleep, was there?
I hastily took the stairs down two at a time then flopped down onto the couch. Yep, life was sweet – sort of. I picked up the remote and flipped through the channels. I finally landed on a corny sitcom my mom and I both hated, but I thought I’d watch it just to laugh at stupidity.
But, like all shows, it got old after a while. And once I sat an hour in front of the screen (and through two excruciatingly boring parodies of life), I flipped it off, still not the least bit exhausted. I grunted and jumped up to go outside. Basically, I was scared of being alone in the dark, but I was too bored now to really care. I was sure to grab my hoodie on the way out: Seattle was famous for sudden cold and rain. It was almost too funny when tourists visited, hauling around their bulky umbrellas. As for us natives, our trusty hoodies protected us just fine. And so I set out on my “quest” to soothe my boredom and perhaps thrill myself by testing my fear of being out this late.
My feet making indentions in the yard’s soft grass, I trudged along the foliage-lined downtrodden path, donning my worn hoodie in the process. As I reached the edge of the woods, glancing back at the house, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, plunging into the unnatural darkness.
The farther I got, the more scared I became. I took in shallow breaths and buried my urge to hyperventilate. I was always scared of being alone, but especially in the darkness. I guess it wasn’t the dark itself, but the fact that I couldn’t see anything and I hated not knowing my surroundings. I took a long look behind me, trying to find at least one speck of light.
There was none.
I sat down at the trunk of one of the trees and shut my eyes tight. I slowed my breathing and quieted quite a bit. I needed to rest and calm down, but staying in one place was technically worse for me. Maybe if I tried to forget how dark it was, I would feel better. Or, maybe not.
I finally opened my eyes back up again and took a look around. I thought it had only been a few minutes, but apparently it had been hours since the sky was lighting up a bit. The sun was not yet up, of course. It wouldn’t be until at least two hours from now, yet my landscape wasn’t as dark anymore. But, as I straightened myself up and dusted off my coat and pants, I slowly turned around again to confirm what I had only just noticed in the shadows.
A pair of fiery eyes receded from the trees behind me.

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

Chapter 1
The horn blared incessantly.
''Shut up!'' I screamed inside my car. The blaring turned into ear-splitting intervals. I groaned and smacked my head into the steering wheel. The jerk behind me transitioned roughly into taking turns with beeping and leaning on the horn. I was extremely ticked by this point.
I slammed my fist into the glass window and amazingly the glass didn’t break in my spurt of rage. One more blow from that infernal horn and my fingers were curled around the handle of the door, yanking it towards me. I swiped my head out of the car and glanced up at the gloomy Seattle sky before twisting to glare at the person in the car behind me. He simply leaned on the horn again, a grin forming slightly, but the rest of his face shrouded. Before I knew it, I’d sprung out of the car and slammed the door shut. I stormed my way to the culprit’s car, halting in front of the driver’s side window. I crouched down, but could only see a silhouette through the highly tinted glass. The window rolled down excruciatingly slowly and I tapped my foot impatiently; waiting. But the face that graced me was not what I was expecting
Utterly perfect . . .
I wasn't one to immediately formulate an opinion based on looks, but those were the first words that popped into my head. They just seemed to fit, however random that may have been. From his pale face stood out twoof the most brilliant eyes I had ever seen eyes. The only colour I could think of to match them would be molten metal, glowing at it's hottest. They were fringed with a bold tint of black around their edges. His face came to a rounded point of a chin, with high cheekbones and a mysterious but dangerous look about him. His skin was pale, but not pasty: almost like a marble pale. His lips were a thin, beautiful line, which at this time were forming into a lopsided smirk. His nose was sculpted perfectly; as close as any nose could get, that is. I took in his floppy black hair. It hung over one of his eyes in a way that made my heart pound; unruly, yet still absolutely perfect.
All this time I stared with shock and awe as he stared back at me, confused at my abrupt odd behavior. “So. . .” a sweet, velvety voice smoothly broke into my ogling. I soon realized it was him and composed myself.
If only looks could kill . . . I glared my hardest at him, which he only returned with a tilt of his head. I stifled my palpitating heart as the rage flowed back over me slowly like lava. I had no idea what had just happened, but no idiot would make a fool of me. I immediately started screaming at him, unleashing every inch of my fury. All the while, he only stared at me, amused, cocking his head to one side in curiosity. In the middle of my incoherent, and not-so-complimentary, speech, the tinted window began to rise quickly up again. Behind the dark glass, I observed the silhouette of his hand, fingers twinkling in a sarcastic wave goodbye. In rage, I stormed to my car, throwing myself in, and banged the door shut again. I rested my hands on the wheel then beat my head into it once to relieve my anger. I scowled back at the silhouette, hoping beyond hope he could see me. Maybe that would wipe the probably-smug expression of his face. The traffic started diminishing slowly but surely, and, of course, he began the infernal horn-blowing again. The heat of my anger washed over me once again, and I clenched my fists, swallowed my urge for vengeance, and tried to remember that I was a sensible human being.

A few days later, all remembrance of the traffic tantrum incident had dissipated; except for that face . . . It haunted me that I’d probably never see him again. After trying to convince myself multiple times that I didn’t want to, I realized that, in all actuality, I really did. In some way or another, I had completely forgotten that this guy was the one who had angered me to the point of my screaming my lungs out at him; I just wanted to see that face and gaze into those captivating ochre orbs again.
School after that was hopeless: I kept staring out of the window, recollecting every minute detail of his angel-like face . . . Then, the bell rang, roughly shoving out my over-obsessive thoughts. This was idiotic. I wasn't a flailing fangirl, hanging on his every move. I was better than this! I blew a strand of my wavy auburn hair out of my face before rolling my eyes and reluctantly getting up to go. I had paid virtually no attention and I would sleep in fear of a pop quiz tonight. My math teacher glared at me from under his spectacles and thinning blonde hair. I trudged out of the room and down the hall, the image of my angel’s face distorted and disrupted from my mind, fortunately. As I traveled down the hall, no one looked my way; I don’t think anyone even noticed me. Oh, I was used to it. My grey eyes searched the hall for anyone interesting to engage in conversation. A trite cheerleader looked promising. As I wandered over to try my luck with the freakishly perky girl, a familiar voice permeated the air.
“Hey! Get your books as fast as you can! I’ll be waiting in the car!” he yelled across the hall. I would recognize that voice anywhere . . .
“Oh, shoot!” I muttered and scrambled to hide myself behind one of the goths of my school. He glared askance at me and I grinned sheepishly, crouching down behind his bulky black-covered figure. Skulking out from behind him, I ran flat-out for the doors, finally reaching my freedom. Then, the horn of the bus sounded, making me sigh in relief. I would go on the bus today and just later explain to my mom I hadn’t made a hassle of begging for a ride from another irritable family.
It was a miracle that I had escaped from that perfect face. I couldn’t let him see me. The incident would cause me embarrassment for the rest of my life, along with my obsession. Ugh! This just wouldn’t work if he was going to pick up his sibling, or friend, or whatever, the rest of the year. Maybe I could transfer . . .
I clambered up onto the bus, finding the furthest seat from the front that was available. I sat down and pulled out my notebook. I had to get his face down. The vigorous strokes of my pencil didn’t give his face enough justice. Ah, it would do for now. If only I had a camera. I gazed out the window the rest of the time before the bus took off. Watching him load his passenger into the black Corvette that was his car, I let out a deep, long sigh. Luckily, for the part of me that was screaming to stop being such a dunce, the seat I was on jerked downward. I jumped at the sound of someone taking a seat beside me. After glancing over suddenly, I looked away again. “Ugh, Mitchell!” I mumbled under my breath. I hastily stuffed my notebook into my backpack, shielding it from his view.
Mitchell was the only person who paid at least minute attention to me. In a big town like Seattle, it’s hard to find even a fair-weather friend for someone like me. Yet, Mitchell at least tried to pay attention to me. He wasn’t exactly a friend, per se, but he was the closest I had to it. “Hey.” I greeted almost inaudibly. I might as well try for some interesting talking. I wasn’t that much of a talker, which was good when you tried making conversation with cheerleaders.
“Hey, Rosette. Your hair looks good today.” I visibly reddened. “How are you?” he asked in his subtly hyper way. His green eyes searched my face and he whipped a wayward strand of his floppy sandy-blonde hair out of his face as he anticipated my answer.
“Oh, same as last time you asked. Everything’s pretty much the same as it always is.” I let out a quiet chuckle. “Making talk with cheerleaders to pass the time, being loathed by teachers; yep, everything’s the same!” I joked and folded my hands in my lap, staring down at them.
“I guarantee it will lessen up sometime.” Mitchell bluffed, trying to cover it up with a glance around the bus for an emo, goth, or popular to terrorize.
“I can tell you’re lying.” I stated bluntly, but I still looked around with him just the same. ‘Watch this . . .’ he mouthed to me and hopped into a seat behind one of the snottiest girls in our school. Leave it to Mitchell to want to terrorize another popular. Removing her backpack from under the seat, he stealthily slipped a few frogs from under his jacket into all the pockets and swiftly slid it back under the seat. He swaggered back over to me and we both turned to observe the entertaining tantrum that was about to happen.
As the girl jabbered on about her new cell phone, she reached for her backpack to confirm its “total coolness!” Mitchell stifled a snicker, but that wouldn’t last for long. A shrill scream echoed through the bus as the innocent amphibians were slapped off her lap by her own hands and the merciless hands of her loyal followers. He couldn’t hold it in any longer: Mitchell burst into such a series of laughter that tears were rolling down his face. As the bus screeched to a stop, the bus driver fearing the worst at the scream, Annabelle Ritchie’s blustering crimson face whipped around toward Mitchell.
“Mitchell Barnes!” she cried, clasping the back of her seat to restrain herself from running up and punching him in the face. Both Mitchell and I couldn’t hold in our laughter. Lucky enough, my stop was next. I strode to the front of the bus, my bag slung over my shoulder, and turned around to wave at Mitchell, but he was already preoccupied with another guy he was laughing along with. Like I said, he tried.

That night, his face was plastered in my mind. I couldn’t shake it off. No matter what I did, that perfect face still got to me; my thoughts still somehow got back around to that smirk he gave me as the window rolled up during my speech. I rolled over in my bed. I’ll never be able to get over him. I thought hopelessly as I tried to close my eyes and rest.
It didn’t work.
Groaning as I rolled onto my back again, I stared up at my textured ceiling. “Why?” I whispered desperately. And --- it gave no response. I glanced over at my alarm clock, noting the time. It was 11:30. I had five minutes until my mom went about her regular routine of eating “breakfast”, pacing about the house, then checking on me before she left for work.
My mom was a “graveyard-shift” nurse, as they called it, whose shift began at 12:15. Yet, she still got up early though the hospital was only ten minutes away. Slightly neurotic, she held a routine each night at 11:35; checking on me. I curled up in my bed, already hearing her shuffling around the house. She’d probably come in early, so I had better get my best act on.
A few minutes later, after shoving him out of my mind and finally almost falling into a deep sleep, she came into my room. I groaned and rolled over a little, just to make it convincing, and I heard her “Aw...” in response. She blew a kiss at me and about fifteen minutes later her truck started up and sped out of the driveway. I raced to the window to make sure she was gone, and then sighed. There was just no getting back to sleep, was there?
I hastily took the stairs down two at a time then flopped down onto the couch. Yep, life was sweet – sort of. I picked up the remote and flipped through the channels. I finally landed on a corny sitcom my mom and I both hated, but I thought I’d watch it just to laugh at stupidity.
But, like all shows, it got old after a while. And once I sat an hour in front of the screen (and through two excruciatingly boring parodies of life), I flipped it off, still not the least bit exhausted. I grunted and jumped up to go outside. Basically, I was scared of being alone in the dark, but I was too bored now to really care. I was sure to grab my hoodie on the way out: Seattle was famous for sudden cold and rain. It was almost too funny when tourists visited, hauling around their bulky umbrellas. As for us natives, our trusty hoodies protected us just fine. And so I set out on my “quest” to soothe my boredom and perhaps thrill myself by testing my fear of being out this late.
My feet making indentions in the yard’s soft grass, I trudged along the foliage-lined downtrodden path, donning my worn hoodie in the process. As I reached the edge of the woods, glancing back at the house, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, plunging into the unnatural darkness.
The farther I got, the more scared I became. I took in shallow breaths and buried my urge to hyperventilate. I was always scared of being alone, but especially in the darkness. I guess it wasn’t the dark itself, but the fact that I couldn’t see anything and I hated not knowing my surroundings. I took a long look behind me, trying to find at least one speck of light.
There was none.
I sat down at the trunk of one of the trees and shut my eyes tight. I slowed my breathing and quieted quite a bit. I needed to rest and calm down, but staying in one place was technically worse for me. Maybe if I tried to forget how dark it was, I would feel better. Or, maybe not.
I finally opened my eyes back up again and took a look around. I thought it had only been a few minutes, but apparently it had been hours since the sky was lighting up a bit. The sun was not yet up, of course. It wouldn’t be until at least two hours from now, yet my landscape wasn’t as dark anymore. But, as I straightened myself up and dusted off my coat and pants, I slowly turned around again to confirm what I had only just noticed in the shadows.
A pair of fiery eyes receded from the trees behind me.