An Old Friend

Chapter 1

October 6th, 1988

My mom and I were in our car trying to get home on a rainy night, and as we drive past our favorite cafe in Berkeley, there was a flashing light. I couldn't tell exactly what the massive object was, but it was heading straight at us. Closer, closer, then:
BANG! BOOM! CLASH!
Then... nothing. Nothing except a faint ringing in my ears...

"DAAAAAAAAD!", I screamed as I bolted upright out of my sheets. "Lizzie, hun, this has seriously got to stop. You need to see someone about these nightmares," my dad said with a concerned, yet annoyed look on his face. I can see why he'd be upset. This was the fourth night in a week I'd had a nightmare; the same exact one every night.

It was the series of events of my mom's death. She died in a car crash when I was in fourth grade. I was 10 and I don't even know why I was in the front seat, but the airbag saved me. On the other hand, my mother's chest was severely crushed by the steering wheel and the airbag and she was dead in an instant. My vision was blurred and my brain was fuzzy so I don't really remember what happened. But I remember enough for the memory to come alive in my dreams...

It was coincidence that Billie left a couple days later. (Double-whammy)

I hadn't told my dad what my nightmares were about because I felt it would cause him too much pain. "I'll be fine dad, I don't need help," I assured him.
"I don't know sweetie. Ok, one more night. And if you have another nightmare tomorrow, then I'm taking you to a therapist." Oh god, I dreaded the day when those words would come out of his mouth, and they just did.

It was way too early in the morning to stay awake, but I did. There was no way I was taking another chance of having one of those nightmares again.
By 6:00 it was almost time to get ready for school. I had stayed up until dawn just staring up at my ceiling. Just thinking. Thinking about how screwed up my life is. I have no direction in life. And I wish I did. I don't have a mother. And I wish I did. I know my dad tries his best to be a supporting parent, but he really sucks at it. I just wish things would change.

I finally willed myself to get out of bed, brush my teeth, and plug in the straightener. I looked at myself in the mirrior and thought to myself,
Who am I?

And soI straightened my hair, (well I at least tried), threw on my black sweatshirt, ripped jeans, and my Chuck Taylor's. I guess you could say I dressed different from all the other girls, which is why they all despise me. But that's not the only reason. I hated everything they liked: pop music, tons of makeup, etc. Well I say that's all crap.

I went down the stairs to go eat some cereal. I found my dad reading the newspaper at the dining room table. And he was pretty much silent.
Hmm, what's wrong with you big guy?, I thought to myself.

After I finished breakfast I headed out on my way to school; I walked everyday. As I approached the school, I realized how ridiculous I looked compared to the rest of the crowd, (except the punks) but I didn't care. I liked my look, rough but respectable.

I made my way to first period, Algebra 2. Talk had been going around that we were getting a "new student", which means that poor kid would be teased for weeks before they actually fit in.

My teacher, Mr. Roberts, announced (believe it or not) that we had a new student.
"I expect each and every one of you to welcome our new friend with kindness and respect."
"Blah, blah, blah, we know the drill,"
the class clown, Mike muttered.

"Come on out young man."
A boy walked in with slightly slouched posture, like he didn't want to be here (I don't blame him). He was around my height maybe a little bit taller, but still on the short side. I can tell he was nervous or embarassed the big entrance he had made. His face was hidden because he was looking at the ground.

"Turn to face the class, son," Mr. Roberts urged. And so he did. And oh my, was he good looking. He was pale, but not too pale, with a small little nose with a unique shape, blonde hair with dark roots, crystal green eyes, and the slightest smirk. His facial features were soft and he had friendly eyes...

And then I realized...

"Billie?"