Letting Go

Chapter 1

“Ti—“ The teacher began. “I go by Fain.” Fain interrupted. The teacher tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

“Alright then Fain,” she said with a cheery grin “I’m Miss Doyle and I’m so excited to have you in my class this year.”

 Fain forced a smile at this. Miss Doyle was the first of six teachers that day. Each one smiled too much, was too excited, gave her too many papers, and tried too hard. As Fain sat in a corner of the library at lunch she closed her eyes with a sigh. Senior year and she was alone at a new school two months into the year.

She missed London. She missed the sprawling city with rain-darkened pavement. She missed her friends and their discussions about music and literature. She laughed internally at the idea that she could find true friends among these California beach bums.

As if to prove this the only other student in the library walked out, leaving her alone besides the librarian who was shut up in her office. Fain wandered the old oak shelves, her fingertips kissing the spines of the books. She kneeled down in front of one shelf to look closer at the books near to the ground. Her hazel eyes scanned the titles, smiling at familiar names like old friends. She glanced up for one second and saw a pair of sage green eyes staring at her from the other side of the shelf.

Fain let out a surprised shriek, falling backwards and hitting her head on the wood behind her. Frustrated, she rubbed the back of her head. She heard quick footsteps and the owner of the green eyes appeared at the end of the aisle. He was perfect, too perfect. Fain thought. His dark hair was artfully unkempt. He was tall, tan, and wiry. As he blurted out an apology, she caught a flash of bright white teeth. Rolling her eyes, she cut off his “I’m so sorry, are you oka—”

“I’m fine. I would’ve been better if you weren’t lurking in the shelves.” She said shortly. The boy’s expression changed from worry to humor. He laughed as he held out a hand to help her up.

“What exactly defines lurking? Because I could’ve been sure that I was just looking for a book same as you.” Fain ignored his outstretched hand and pushed herself up, brushing her cinnamon colored hair out of her eyes. Her only response was an irritated, “Hmmph” as she shouldered past him. “Hey!” He called out, grabbing her wrist. “I really am sorry I scared you.”

Fain turned around. “I forgive you.” She said curtly.

“Sick.” The boy replied. Rolling her eyes at his choice of word she started to back away from him. He started talking again, stopping her in her tracks.

“My name’s Bronte Jackson, nice to meet you.” He thrust his hand out with a wide smile. Relenting, Fain shook his hand.

“I’m Fain Edwards, the new girl.” She said with a sigh.

“I could tell.” When Fain looked offended he quickly added, “The accent. It kinda tipped me off.”

“Oh.” A blush crept into her cheeks. She was feeling embarrassed for lashing out at this seemingly nice boy. She looked down at her scuffed brown combat boots, feeling awkward. Just as Bronte was opening his mouth to say something more, the pealing of the school bell echoed through the library. The sound of it was like a sigh of relief to Fain. She gave Bronte a shy smile then turned and walked briskly out of the library before giving him time to say more.

After a long day of introductions and fake smiles, Fain got into her car, put in her favorite CD, and turned the volume up as high as it could go. She closed her eyes and for a moment it felt like she was back in London. She imagined raindrops falling on her windshield. A car alarm went off a few spots over, yanking her out of her daydream. She pulled out of the parking lot, and drove along the still unfamiliar road to her new home.

The new house was bigger than the London flat that she and her parents had moved from, but was average size for a California suburb. It stood in a row of similar houses and neatly manicured lawns with an almost green hill rising behind them. Fain pulled into the cement driveway and threw her messenger bag over her shoulder. Her key rattled in the front door’s lock like thoughts of the day rattled in her brain. Could she ever be happy here? As she pushed the door open, somebody pulled it from the other side, prompting a surprised shriek from Fain.

Her mum laughed. “Sorry honey, I heard you coming in and I wanted to ask how your day was.” Normally Fain would’ve told her mother everything. They had that kind of relationship. She couldn’t bring herself to do it though. She couldn’t let on how sad she was and break her mum’s heart. She settled for sharing a sort of half-truth. She talked as she walked past her mom into the house.

“It wasn’t anything special, just school you know? But as far as school goes it was good. I made a friend in the library.” She cringed a little as the last sentence escaped her mouth.

“Oh how great!” her mum exclaimed, a smile on her kind face. “What’s your new friend’s name?”

“His name is Bronte.” Fain forced a smile.

“How interesting! Is this boy cute?” Her mum smiled when she saw Fain’s blush in response to her question. “So he is cute. Does your father need to meet him and have a talk with this boy?” Fain’s blush deepened.

“Mummm.” She shook her head. She couldn’t keep up this conversation much longer. Between the lying and the embarrassment, she would crack any second. “I have a lot of work to get done since I’m starting late and all that. Call me down for dinner when Dad’s home?” Her mum smiled and nodded, and Fain kissed her on the cheek and walked upstairs to her bedroom.

Her room seemed to be the last remnant of home that she had. Her mum had enthusiastically suggested that they redecorate her room when they moved, as if that would make it better. Fain had rejected the offer though. Decorating her room had taken years of collecting knick-knacks and photos.

She plopped down on her quilt-covered bed her feet facing her massive bookshelf. Her walls were almost entirely covered with posters of bands, blown up covers of some of her favorite books, and photos of her closest friends. She had a framed picture on her nightstand of her and her best friend in the world, Christine. Looking at the picture, Fain felt an ache in her chest. She dug her cell phone out of her backpack and dialed Christine’s number. The phone had barely rung once when she heard a voice she’d recognize anywhere.

“Fain? Darling, how are you? Oh, I miss you terribly!” Christine practically screamed. Laughing for the first time in days, Fain replied,

“Chrissy, you have absolutely no idea how much I wish I was there with you.”

“Oh hush, you’re not allowed to miss me.” Chrissy chastised, “You’re in sunny California! You’re supposed to be getting tan, learning to surf, meeting hot boys!”

“I’m rolling my eyes right now, just so you know. First, you know I sunburn on contact with any sunlight at all. Curse this pale skin. Second, I cannot nor will not ever learn to surf. Third, who said I haven’t met a hot boy?” She wasn’t planning on talking about Bronte with Chrissy. It had just been an awkward run-in in the library, but it was the most exciting thing that had happened to her since she had got here. So partly to entertain herself, and partly to appease Chrissy’s voracious appetite for gossip, she gushed about the handsome, mysterious boy in the library. “Although,” she added as she finished the story, “he was almost too perfect looking, you know?” Chrissy grew serious.

“No, I don’t know. I know you’re thinking of Ben, Fain. You can’t do this to yourself. You can’t let him ruin you. You—“ There was muffled talking on the other line, and Chrissy apologized. “I have to go, but this conversation isn’t over. Bye, love.” As Fain pressed the end call button, she threw herself back onto her bed. Her head was swimming with unmanageable of thoughts and fears. She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temples. Before she knew it, she had drifted into the quiet relief of sleep.