The Dreamers

Chapter One - Violet - What is she doing here?

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                                                      V I O L E T 

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Have you ever sat in a circle staring at each of your friends and been able to see into their souls? Felt like physical vibes of love bind you together? Felt so in sync, so alike, that you can see yourself in their reflection?

No?

Good. Because neither have I.

We call ourselves ‘The Dreamers’, seven lost kids stuck in a suffocating, dead end town. Each of us has a story and a messed-up path, which led us to this group of miss-fitted friends.

We are all connected by blood, friendship, fate, or love. Or, all of the above.

It’s the last year of high school for us all and everything that we are, is about to be tested to its limits.

 And that is where this story takes off - at the beginning of the end.

We all came together just over twelve months ago. Most of us had grown up together, gone to school together, had mutual friends, or played in the same sports teams. In a town as small as this, it is impossible to not know everybody, somehow. 

 It had been our tenth grade graduation party. A dull, disappointing and sober occasion that nearly everybody had ditched by nine. I’d been dragged off by my twin brother Joey, saying he wanted to meet some friends at the beach. He wasn’t going to let me stay by myself, he would have dragged me out by the hair if he had to.

 The heat was overwhelmingly thick, layered in the still December breeze. The sun had set but I could feel the sand and sea grass dance around my ankles as we walked down the shore. Joey headed towards a dull, orange glow down the cove; a bonfire. The closer we got the more the summery smoke began to overpower the dense saltiness in the air. The shadows lessened around three people, in three cosy beach chairs. As chatter and giggles rose, and their identities became clear, I knew I wanted no part of this camp fire shindig.

 Front and Centre of the group was Miss. Australia – Charlotte Lewis. Charlotte has, and will always be, the pure definition of ‘beach babe’. Sandy blonde hair that needs next to no styling, deep caramel skin with light freckles across her cheeks, long, toned legs and a Barbie doll face. Sure, her arse is a little bigger than one would like and she could do with an extra cup size or two, but as far as this town and every one of its male inhabitants is concerned, she is walking perfection.

 Next to her, was her recently pinned boyfriend Oliver Hart, a social recluse. If it wasn’t for his wash board abs and drool worthy ‘surfer boy’ image, he’d be a nobody. Still, besides the couple’s aesthetic perfection, they seemed a bizarre match almost incompatible.  Oliver was in wet boardies, as he usually was. He didn’t attend the party instead opting for a surf. There was nothing and no one that could come between Oliver Hart and the waves.

To complete the threesome was Charlotte’s cousin Pippa Kirk. Pip had moved here from New South Wales half way through tenth grade. The reasoning had been kept confidential and her shy, fragile complex only made the rumours all the more worse.

 Joey’s usual air of confidence took over as he ran for the group, “Hey baby girl,” he greeted, tousling pip’s white blonde hair. The closeness between Pip and my brother had, and continues to, confuse me.

 “Joey!” Charlotte greeted, “I thought you might not show.”

 “Better late than never,” he mused, slapping hands with Oliver.

 “Who invited the wog?” a new, distant voice called.

 Looking north, two extra silhouettes arose.

I knew the voice to belong to, resident nerd, Miles Fidge. Baby face and a head of dark curls, he was a skinny, tall guy. Milo had grown up with Joey and Oliver but as they, and most of the male population, had turned to football and surfing, he turned to mindcraft and lost touch with his friends.

Then comes, what I now know to be, his ticket into this group – Rya Tate. Rya and Charlotte had been best friends since middle school. They both shared an effortless, beach babe look but what Charlotte lacked in substance Rya had in the dozens. She was surprisingly witty, not the sharpest tool in the shed – but, we can’t all be beautiful and smart.

Rya and Milo had been dating for a few months and that had been Milo’s opportunity to get in close with Oliver and Charlotte again. Hence, his invite to tonight’s gathering.

Hand in hand, Rya and Milo grew closer to the group, Joey yelling back, “Who invited the four eyes?”

The couple stepped into the light of the bonfire, flickering red flames highlighting their faces, enough for me to see Rya roll her caramel eyes at my brother’s stab. Her eyes then landed straight ahead, a smile rising as if it were a greeting.

It took me only seconds to realise she was smiling at me.

The last member of the group – Violet Cavallaro. I folded my arms across my chest, feeling my short cut hair blow around my neck.  

All six sets of eyes turned to see who or what Rya had been smiling at. My brother, most idiotically, as if he had forgotten I was there.

Charlotte had cleared her throat, “What is she doing here?”

There was a venom in her voice that I had become accustom to over the years I had known her. As I always say; once a bitch always a bitch.

“She’s with me,” Joey supplied, cool and calm.

“This wasn’t an open invite Joseph.”

“She doesn’t need an invite, she goes, then so do I.” There was a ferocity in my brother’s voice that put Charlotte back in her box.

Everybody in the circle seemed unsettled and awkward, some probably embarrassed by Charlotte’s behaviour and some scared by Joey’s tone.

“Fine,” Charlotte had then spat, twisting back into her seat, a heavy scowl on her face.

And that was it. The moment ‘The Dreamers’ had come about. Certainly not a warm, fuzzy memory and if the beginning of a story, the cover of a book perhaps, is anything to go by, this wasn’t going to be an easy journey.

Now, little over twelve months later, the eve before we start twelfth grade, our group had moulded into a tight little pack.

Something’s had changed, like Rya and Milo breaking up. Something’s hadn’t, Charlotte was still the ringleader and as bland as ever.

We were all a little taller and a little more filled out but most of all, we were ‘The Dreamers’. Individually we were astronomically different, some of us, inconceivably so. But together, the dynamics worked. Sure we’d been split by fights and break up’s – it hadn’t always been perfect.

But, somehow, despite the odds, we always fell back together. The best incompatible bunch of friends you’ll ever find.