A Valley of Shattered Hearts

Chapter 1

Chapter song - The Fold by Wickerbird

RUBY JONES WILL RETURN

I find the piece of paper intriguing me in the past few days, ever since I took the photo. I didn't tell anyone, of course not. It's an inside joke with myself now. I looked the words up on my phone many times, to the point that it kept me up at night. It was sad that I didn't find what it was, but like everything I once cared about, I forgot about it...until the last month of school.

It seems now that I care more about little things that I see like the piece of paper and like the girl's pretty handwriting in my first class today. It makes me feel important that I notice these things and care enough about them to remember them.

I notice that nobody is noticing the piece of paper and I can't help but think if it really is just a piece of paper or something more than that. I would like it to be something more than that. People really don't care about anything anymore. They walk through their day like nothing has happened, but today something has happened that nobody thought was going to happen and it's extraordinary. I wonder if anybody else gets the sense of feeling like you're in somebody else's body and the feeling of pure dread when you walk into a room and there's more than 12 people in it. People don't usually judge everybody, do they? Because I would be in trouble, if you're going to give me a mental analysis at least try and understand me. Give it a good solid effort. Because if you don't try, you have nothing. No one and nothing. I've learnt that if you ever want to be good at something...you have to give it a fair shot. At least a good try, you know? I know I tried, I know I currently do. I know I have, for my whole life.

Does Ruby Jones mean anything to anyone anymore?

I suppose she really did just disappear.

"Ruby Jones? Does that name mean anything to you?" I find myself talking to a computer... again.

"You're being too loud," Jade says.

"I-um-sorry-"

"Nothing," I responded.

"I'm doing nothing."

"You wouldn't like it," I say, I'm not wrong. This is usually the type of thing people like Jade Simone try not to get involved in. Maybe I fall under the exception category.

I notice the door creak open with an uncomfortable silence followed.

"I noticed your humming led by a slightly uncomfortable conversation," a boy says.

I don't recognise him, so I sit up in my chair straighter, hoping he won't notice me.

"You're being sarcastic," I say.

"I don't like your tone," he says.

"Well," I say, offended, "I don't like yours either."

The boy whips out a hunting knife as I follow, I always carried one and now practically everyone has to carry one, by law considering we could have a serial killer on the loose, I think it's ironic. I've never been in an actual fight before and certainly that one time in primary didn't count. I also most certainly don't want this to be my first one.

He chuckles.

"Who taught you some respect?" He asked me.

"Certainly not my parents." I say, gritting my teeth.

He pauses, sighing. "I sense your sarcasm," he says, "April."

I stare down at my feet as we both walk toward the kitchen. Where the rest of Jade's friends are.

I notice the boy is wearing chartreuse sunglasses which radiate vomit and I automatically hate him. We're only a few inches apart now, but I still don't recognise his face, which is funny since I know about everyone in West Warwick. Hence the whole teenager private detective situation.