Chapter 1:

Time is precious and our moments on this earth are limited with the ones we love and adore.

That's what I like to dwell on now. I find myself reminiscing on some bittersweet memories. Well, all of them seem bittersweet now.

It was the following summer of my freshman year in high school when things started to change. My mom got back with my father-who we hadn't seen in years. Then she got pregnant. I had no idea why she would think of having another baby, let alone one with my father; the one who completely left us for some tramp 2 years ago. Now he decides to come back and act like nothing happened?

It didn't seem like my mom cared about what occurred in the past with her and my dad: the late night drinking and fighting, screaming, the cops coming over to our house. There is still a scar that is left on her right temple. It was one of the many my father had given her during these drunken brawls. But that was none of my business because I was a child, and "children are meant to be seen and not heard." At least, that's what my father had said.

When my mom had explained her and my father's relationship to me, she had just stated, "your dad and I love each other, and he's changed, he's sober now." Like that even mattered, he wasn't a better person sober. And how many other times had he gotten sober when I was little, then turned back into a drunk again? 

I felt like everything was happening too fast for me to wrap my head around. My incomprehensible, child head that didn't understand a thing about love. It felt like it was warping and turning to mush.

Toward the end of my sophomore year, my mom was nearing the end of her pregnancy and decided it was time for a change.

"A fresh start with the four us." She'd say rubbing her belly contently, "A bigger, better place." A bigger place where she could expand her obsessions for the new baby, but also keep her space away from my dad if things got bad. Just in case, I thought.

"Tyler Dean is what I'll name him." My mom grinned that day, finally choosing a name. She stuck with the family last name Dean. I liked the name. It seemed right for the baby.

We moved into the new house in Idaho, far away from Tennessee where all our friends and family lived. That's where I started my third year of high school and it's where I would have graduated.

Soon after we moved my mom went into early labor and was rushed to the hospital. No one ever spoke of the details. They were driving, got into a bad accident on the highway, I remembered the cop telling me as he pulled me out of class that day. Nobody knew why their car veered off. My theory is no one really knew what happened that day.

My father passed away a couple days after the accident. Too much swelling in the brain, as the doctors had explained. My mom was in a deep sleep, silent and unmoving under the brain scans. I got shipped off to my aunt in California after my mom was presumed a rotting vegetable, and never to return. Which is why they pulled the plug, and buried her next to the other two familiar tombstones.

I was falling into a spiral of sadness, caught in the everlasting dark hole where I was trapped. I was further from my friends, and my happiness.

Not like any of that mattered. My happiness was replaced by emptiness, longing for the return of what was once there. The emptiness of not having my mom by my side, or my dad- who might have actually changed for the better, or the thought that I could of been an older sister to an adorable little brother. I wished that this was all some dirty trick and I would wake up.

Maybe I shouldn't have of spent my time hating my father and mother for their choices and loved them, like a good daughter. To only think this happened within a year. A very long year of my life.

***

I open the door to the classroom with a small pink paper in my hand. The paper was a late slip from the office excusing my tardiness smudged in black ink. I had spent a couple of minutes to put the right reason why. Over slept, traffic, car troubles... The truth was I had slept in for about ten minutes after seven, the time I was supposed to get up. Then walked 3 miles to school (running the last one) because my Aunt had already left for work. Maybe she forgot to drop me off, or wake me up, I thought when I was trudging down the road. I looked around the classroom.

It was green on one wall, where the sunshine came through the windows and touched it. There were pictures of books stapled to a part of the wall and some notes about clauses taped next to it. One poster explained the importance of reading and writing in bold black font. Some quotes had been scattered about the room with book shelves under them, full of books. I walked to the teacher's desk which had papers stacked high and covered in red corrections, paper-clips, and stapled articles. There was a chalkboard name plate sitting on the edge of her desk that said, 'Ms. Day' in cursive.

Everyone was quietly discussing something, probably about a book I saw on every desk; Hamlet by William Shakespeare. A copy with yellow sticky notes paged throughout the pages sat on the teacher's desk. She was sitting down grading papers, making tick marks every couple of lines. I didn't even have to say anything because she was already looking up at me. She smiled, a sweet teacher smile.

"Hello," she acknowledged. She took the pink piece of paper from my hand, "Jamie! Ah, I've heard you were coming along soon." She surmised, standing up.

"I'm Ms. Day," she introduced herself as she took her hand on my shoulder, turning me to the class. Even for meeting her in that brief minute I could tell she was a nice teacher, one of those kindergarten teachers named after objects or food, like Miss Honey.

"Everyone can I have your attention," she paused, "This is Jamie. I'd like you all to treat her well and help her with whatever she needs for the class." She stopped, looking around the classroom for someone. My attention was elsewhere at the moment so I wasn't sure who she was talking about as the class grew to quiet murmurs. "Cody can you show her around during second period?" She asked, nodding her head to somebody.

I smiled and took an empty seat close to the door before she could make me say something about myself. The desk had an etching of somebody's initials on it colored in with a purple ink. I ignored it, taking my backpack from my shoulders and putting it on the side of my desk.

I got out an empty notebook and started copying down the journal entry directions on the first page and wrote down the homework that had been on the white board. It smelled like over sweet flowers in this classroom and it was giving me a headache. I looked around at the people next to me thinking that 'Cody' is probably some teachers' pet. Maybe the nerdy guy sitting in front of me? No, he didn't look like a Cody.

I turned back to my notebook and try to figure out what the hell the teacher was talking about now. Research essay, narrative, writing a review to something on Shakespeare... I was actually happy I showed up late to class because after about 10 minutes of sitting there in confusion the bell rung.

I zipped up my backpack, practically running out of the room. I pulled out my phone to look at my messages. There were two, one from my Aunt saying that she was sorry she couldn't drop me off and she had just remembered that she was supposed to. Another from an old friend checking up on me.

"Hey! Wait up! New girl-Jamie!" I heard someone call out behind me. I slowly turned around to see a blond, surfer haired guy waving his arm with a piece of paper in it. He had blue eyes, and from between the growing amount of people I could see he was well toned.

I started heading for my locker that I had been assigned earlier that day in the office. The guy caught up quickly through the filling halls that are making me feel claustrophobic. I looked at him and hoped to god that he skips over this whole tour.

"Cody, right?" I asked, raising my eyebrow and smiling.

"Yup, so what's your next class new girl?" He replied with a smirk and leans up against the locker beside mine.

"Spanish, room 37, Mrs. Antonio," I replied not minding him calling me new girl even when he knows my name. That was just the thing, that was your name until everyone figured it out when you're new at a school, not to mention new in the middle of the year.

"Are your one of those girls who take school seriously?" Cody questioned, making things awkward. What was that supposed to mean? I wonder if people just got that vibe from me. The girl who is never late, gets perfect grades, and probably has a perfect life. It couldn't be farther from the truth.

"I guess it's a great place to keep my mind off things. Well, let me guess, your some type of jock?"

"Yeah, sort of, how did you guess?" He laughed, helping me down the hallway and high-fives someone along the way.

"It's easy to tell, the way all the guys in their football jerseys nod at you and call your name at their lockers." I replied. I finished up at my locker after putting in some notebooks and text books, most of it for English and math, and locked it up. The late bell rung.

"You should get to class," I told Cody. I made my way up the stairs to get to my class as the hallways became dead.

"Can't. Ms. Day insisted I show you around the campus for second and third period. But during second I'm supposed to catch you up on the work we've been doing." He said and moved in front of me, blocking me from getting to class.

"I've been to a high school before, I think I can find everything by myself. Besides I'm not dumb. I can catch myself up."

"But not this high school, so let's start at the front." He grinned, ignoring my second fact. We went down the hallway and headed back down the stairs to the entrance of the school, where I was 20 minutes ago. "So where are you from?" he asked.

"Tennessee born and raised for the most part." It seems we're the only ones in the hall, which means this school is mostly filled with goody goodies.

"So why did your parents decide to move here?" Cody continued.

"I was sent off here to my aunt... when my mom and dad died actually." I cut to the chase, maybe a little too soon. Is that really how I want to be known around here for? Too late now.

"Oh wow that's- I'm so sorry," he said as I sigh. I could feel his body heat growing next to me.

"It isn't your fault." I replied, harshly. I stopped walking and took a breath, "I mean you have nothing to apologize for," I added, trying to lighten my quick reaction.

"I know... but still, this must have been recent? How are things going? I'm sorry, I mean my condolences." 

"It's fine. It happened about five months ago. I guess things are going alright it's just, numb all over. I thought-" I stumble over the words, "I'm fine, I just feel guilty sometimes..."

"I don't know how the whole grieving stuff works but I really am sorry for your loss, and if there is anything I can do I'm here for you." He took a second to look over my facial expression. I smiled, just a small one to show my thanks. I appreciated his kind words, but I don't take them seriously. 

"Can we not talk about this anymore?" I asked, scrunching my nose. We walked through the front doors of the school. The sun is shining brightly overhead and burned my shoulders and eyes.

"Yeah sure thing, I'm not forcing you to do anything. It wouldn't be right," Cody nodded.

We stopped at a bush that was cut into a capital B. "Welcome to Belmont Beaver High School! This is the entrance," he said, smiling like a big dope, doing something stupid with his hands as he presented the beginning of the tour.

"Wowww, interesting." I played along.

"Was that a convincing, enthusiastic tour guide impression?" He asked like a giddy ten-year old girl.

"Yes it was," I laughed and focused my attention to the other direction at the street.

"Well let's start on the outside of the school, do a walk around then come back here and give an inside tour. This way!" Cody exclaimed. I followed him down the parking lot, through a gate that had a sign posted on it with zip ties talking about buying senior portraits.

We walked all the way down the pavement until we hit grass, stopping. "Here is the famous beaver lawn," he seriously stated. The lawn was green and long with thick luscious grass leading up to a big oak tree, one side spilling out sap. There were a few tables in the center of the lawn.

Cody sighed rubbing his hand through his sandy blonde hair and took a seat on a nearby bench. He looked as though he was contemplating something as he stared up at me and said, "Well let's continue the tour." Cody slapped his hands down on his knees a couple times, making a quick little beat. He got back up and started walking on the pavement again.