She had never dared to walk anywhere outside Syracuse. Even though it had only been two years, she was more familiar with the place than she was with her own family. She knew every street and which ones were dead-ends and would tell you, but only if you cared to know. Every house and the family who used to live in it before they moved away.
Cherry street was her favorite. She walked down it every day, taking a single pebble. It was amazing that they weren't all gone by now. The only thing visible in the foggy darkness was the reflection of a U-Haul truck as the light of an SUV skidded by. Nothing. No one. But that's what she liked it for.
The street was more lonely than she had been in her last town. And the one before that. She wasn't as lonely here, or maybe she was and it just seemed like the books gave her more company. She loved the library. She never studied there, just absentmindedly flipped through dusty pages to pass the time.
"And then I punched him and told him not to try that again!" a guy in a bright blue bomber jacket walked in finishing his story triumphantly.
"Yeah!" the rowdy boys followed him.
College kids. She thought they were high schoolers when she first went to the library in 9th grade. But college kids like high schoolers and high schoolers like middle, she thought.
She would go to the library to read books in English, while everyone else there would go to study, or at least to pretend they were. Two months and English was easy, so she stopped going.
But her father pulled her back over the last year. He was easier to find in libraries, so she went to the only one in Syracuse and talked to him. She thought by now someone would have heard her already and told her to leave, but today was one of the long days: the days where she would talk for hours and not leave until the library closed for the night.
"Jamie," the librarian interrupted her.
Convenient. She was running out of things to say. Saying goodbye to both her dad and the librarian, she pushed the glass door, and left.
There was a familiar girl in front of one of the library columns. A girl she recognized from school. She turned around hearing the door close, but didn't see her.
"Ouais... oui... je vais vous dire," she turned away mumbling something else into her phone the she couldn't hear.
Vous? It had to be Ms. Adrien. Definitely Ms. Adrien. Who else would she be referring to formally? She really wished she had paid more attention to the people in her French class, but she was relearning her first language.
"Peut être, Laney, peut être," it was so quiet she could hear the voice through the phone as if it was talking right in front of her.
The name was familiar, so even though she never talked to the girl, she figured that this girl was Laney from 11th grade French. Ms. Adrien mumbled something else through the phone before Laney clicked it off and leaned against the column. She shifted and the motion activated light came on. The girl turned but didn't say anything. How long had she been standing there eavesdropping? She turned and walked down the steep steps.
"Jamie," it was Laney's voice.
She turned.
"Yeah?"
"You're from Westhill right?"
So it was like she thought. The girl was from school.
"Yeah, I am."
She didn't expect anyone to pay attention to her. She didn't think Laney would be any different.
"Wait, I think I'm in French with you," Laney said, squinting trying to remember.
"You're right, I am."
Why is she asking me all of this at 11:30 on a Thursday night? Well, when else would she ask? Who else would even bother to talk to me?
"And you're father," she knew this would come up at some time. "He's Max Bruneau isn't he?"
❝When you live in the shadow of a big tree, you have to run twice as fast to get into the sunlight.❞
She remember him now. Writing through days and sleeping through nights. Ideas, ideas, if only he could express them all. If only he would express them all.
"Yes he is. He... was," she had to remember that he wasn't alive anymore.
It felt like it was just yesterday that it had all happened.
"Oh... I'm sorry"
And of course, like every over conversation she'd ever had about her father after he died, the person had to apologize. It got her mad sometimes, that people felt all sorry for her. The girl who would talk to books. Tonight she was just sad.
"Yeah. it's fine," it sounded harsher than she had meant it to.She couldn't count how many times this same situation had played out. "I should be getting home..."
"Oh, um, well alright then, bye."
"Yeah, uh... Goodnight."
She turned and let the moon lead her home.
╰☆╮
She felt bad cutting people off. Sometimes she really wanted to make friends, but she couldn't. Everyone just felt pity for her, they didn't really want to be her friend. She hadn't had a friend or attempted to make one since her dad died. She didn't want to make it seem like she had no other option besides isolating herself from everyone, but she didn't. It was what it was. It was unfortunate.
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• DICTIONARY OF FRENCH WORDS & PHRASES •
je vais vous dire: I am going to tell you
ouais: okay
oui: yes
peut être: maybe
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Hi guys! There will always be a little dictionary for from French to English for words and phrases at the end of every chapter. I'll be updating at least twice a week from now on. Please comment and vote! Thanks!
