To The Moon

Part 1; Chapter 3

A large handbag hit my right shoulder just as I looked at my wrist to see what time it was. It wasn't that it hurt, just that it made me jump and before I could know what was going on a tall blonde girl with ridiculously muscular calves was apologizing to me.

"Oh gosh. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hit you. I have such a problem with this bag, it's so big, you know?"

"Not a problem."

"Okay, sorry again." She blinked her hazel eyes and her perfect eyebrows folded upward in an innocent look. As she smiled I looked toward the ocean. "Hey, are you new here?"

"Well I used to live here, but it's been five years."

"You look familiar. Maybe we went to school together?"

"I don't think so..." I tried to stop her from carrying on any further conversation.  

"Oh. Well if you want there's a bonfire tonight on a private beach down a ways, feel free to come. You might meet some new people." She smiled.

"Ally! Let's go!" A short girl with dark black hair waved her hand toward the blonde and dropped them to her hips. One hand running through her hair. Next to her was another blonde. This one with brown roots and lighter skin. Her eyes looked dark green from where I sat. 

"Sorry, I have to go. I'll see you tonight?"

I nodded. There was no way I would want to go to a party where I barely knew anybody, yet knew everybody. So many people change with five years time. 

It was true I knew Ally. She was the girl who was friends with everybody in middle school. The girl who would never leave a person who had dropped their books on the ground. She was the girl I always wanted to be. Back then, though, I was the girl that everybody envied. The popular girl with the money and the beauty. I had strawberry blonde hair, which I had died a darker blonde when I moved to New York. I had my mother's pale blue eyes that everyone thought was a blessing where I thought of it as a curse. The girl with everything, but on the inside nobody knew I had absolutely nothing. No one but Ava, the girl next door.

It was true that Ally recognized me. We were in the same group of friends for quite a while. She was just one of the people who bounced around more often than she stayed in one group. The girl next to her wouldn't have recognized me, though. She was definitely new. I knew this because I knew everybody at my old school. I still could recognize everybody I saw on the street, even though they couldn't see me. I was just that kind of person. The girl with the dark black hair was definitely new, and she definitely wasn't like Ally; but people change a lot in five years. 

After they left I finally received the chance to check the watch my father had given me. It was sterling silver, with a neutral band that blended with my skin tone. It was my first present in New York. He bought it right in the city. I held my right wrist up to my eyes and lowered my sunglasses. The little black hands pointed to 9:20. I had the whole day ahead of me.

I stood up from the rock I was sitting on and walked along the sidewalk until I found a staircase leading down to the beach. I slipped off my shoes and headed towards the water. I didn't go any further than it took for the waves to die on the edges of my feet. A steady heartbeat of water washed up against the shore. Finally giving me time to think.

For once in my life, though, I did not want to think. I did not want to allow my mind to wander to the places it might end up. Wounded places that would bring heavy tears to my eyes, threatening places that would take away any form of happiness inside me. No, I didn't want to think, so I started running.

I wasn't a runner. I had never been. I had this awkward way of running where sometimes my arms would hang by my sides but if I focused enough I could get them to swing from my chin to my hip. Focus was exactly what I needed to do. It didn't help at all that I had to carry my shoes in one hand, that made them off balance, but somehow I managed to achieve a steady running rhythm that complimented the ocean's heartbeat.

The beach was long, and after I had run for maybe half of a mile I stopped to walk and look around. I sat on the sand where the waves couldn't reach me and looked from right to left. To my right I looked down the path where I had just came, wondering if I would be able to get back home. As I was contemplating this, the waves came furiously at me, soaking my pants. A nearby surfer snorted, he had shockingly blue eyes, and dirty-blonde hair that flowed around his face and faded down to his earlobes. He was the stereo-typical California surfer. 

Considering there was nothing under my sweatpants, I found that there were two options. I could either find a nearby surf shop and buy a bathing suit and continue to wander the beach, alone. Or I could run my way back home. My watch made the decision for me. I started running.

The sun just got hotter as the day went on, and the waves grew larger and the water seemed more inviting. I walked home around two o'clock to find my mother’s clothes thrown all over the living room and her purse gone. She was all ready for an exciting night. Figures. Considering that no one was home, I decided to take the hour to look about the house. 

Everything was so neat, so sure of its place. Little glass sculptures and fancy art that looked like a five year old painted it. Maybe it was the underlying message, maybe within all those silly lines there was some distinct message the artist was trying to point out. Somebody - considering my mother would never do it - had painted all the walls either green or white. My room was the only exception, but then again I don't think my mother ever touched it at all. The kitchen was green, the living room white, and it continued this way through the entire house - alternating rooms in a clockwise rotation. The furniture was all a light ivory color in the green rooms, in the white rooms the furniture was a dark mahogany. The couch in the living room was something that looked like a leather futon. It was stiff and didn't look too comfortable. Every other piece of furniture was the same way, stiff and uncomfortable. 

Looking at everything, I was starting to regret my decision of running back to this place.