Dawn Light

Chapter 1: Mel

Best Mel,
l have one word for you to describe Africa: horrible. I hate this place! The school is a wreck and the people keep looking at me weird. And I have to stay here for three more years?! I don't think I can survive, with no Internet or anything! Remind me again why I signed up for this stupid program...well anyway, I can't write too much since we have limited paper. Hope you're enjoying school without me. Tell your mother I said hi. Love ya~
Honey Bee

My hands tremble as I sent down the letter angrily. Why, oh why, did she have to move to Africa? Beanca was the only real best friend I have here. I suppose it wasn't exactly her fault; after all she wasn't the one who signed herself up for an exchange program overseas. I myself rarely get opportunities like that. I feel as though I am forever doomed to live the life of a boring and gothy suburban teenager. Don't get me wrong, Spokane can be a nice place to live. But traveling even beyond Washington would be a nice change for someone like me. Beanca feels the same way, which is probably part of the reason why she decided to leave. It just hurts having to watch her go.

First-world problems, I know. As I said, I feel like I'm stuck living this type of life. Melissa Grayson: shockingly average. Living with a remarried mother and distant stepfather. Has an even more distant and gifted stepbrother. Decent grades, probably seven out of ten appearance (being generous.) Best friend lives in Africa now. What else is new? I slowly stand up from my bed with the letter in my hands and stumble downstairs. The thick and humid Washington atmosphere seeps in through the windows of our small kitchen. My mother stands at the stove with smoke rising off of the pan in her hands. I got my looks from her, everyone tells me. Her tall stature and tan complexion compliments her short, jet black hair. My stepfather, on the other hand, looks nothing of anyone in my family. He sits at the table in the corner of the kitchen reading a newspaper. Silence between them has been rare ever since they got married. I clear my throat and softly sigh as I enter the kitchen. They don't look up at me, occupied by whatever they are doing.

"I got a letter from Bee today," I say, disrupting the silence. It doesn't seem to phase either of them.
"Oh, really..." my mother says, interest lacking in her voice. My stepfather grunts. I awkwardly walk towards the window, looking out towards the cloudy streets outside.

"Yeah she hates it in Africa, apparently." My mother glances over her shoulder at me. "Really? Well she's barely given it a chance. She'll get used to it," she comments. I roll my eyes and lean against the window.

"Will she, Mom?" I ask angrily. "You know not everybody there lives in this kind of 'normal' suburban area, right?" My stepfather wrinkles his newspaper and grunts again. "Have you no faith in your best friend? Give her time, she'll get over it. And you will, too," he mutters. I bite my lip, blocking the obscenities that dance behind my teeth from slipping out of my mouth. Maintaining composure, I turn my attention back to my mother.

"I mean, it's going to be hard for her to catch up in school. She left in the middle of the year," I say concerned. My mother sighs. "I don't know what to tell you sweetie," she says, angst rising in her voice. "Just try to stay focused on your own schoolwork. Maybe you'll get to go somewhere too, like Nate." Anger bubbling inside of my chest, I can't help but exclaim, "Nate is ALWAYS somewhere, Mom! Sorry to disappoint since I'm not that much of an overachiever!" My mother doesn't seem phased as she arranges pieces of freshly-cooked salmon onto the brilliantly designed plates on the table.

"Dinner is ready, Mel." My stepfather puts down his newspaper and pulls a plate closer to him. I stand in shock as my mother disregards my discontent. I clench my fists as I look down at the letter again. I mutter a simple, "I'm not hungry," as I sulk back upstairs and close the door behind me, collapsing on my ivory bed. I cross my arms and sigh as I stare up at the ceiling, tears threatening to escape from my eyes. Thank god it's a Saturday. I don't think I'll be able to show up to school tomorrow in the mental condition I'm in right now. And that condition is very low. Everyone has their ups and downs, sure, but mine are especially strong. My highs are a white space, gently lifting my off my feet and carrying me in a light breeze of content. My lows, however are a blue haze. It's like a never ending abyss, fading to darker shades of blue until you reach complete and utter darkness. I've never reached that black mass that lurks beneath me, and frankly, I hope I never do. For now, I tread lightly in a sea of navy. I drag the covers of my bed over me, turn towards my small window and let my my tears fall as I watch the sun fall over the horizon outside. I rarely cry like this, and it wears me out whenever I do. I feel my eyes close as the time slips away. By 7 p.m., I'm drifting in a heavy sleep.