Extraordinary You-- First Three Chapters

Chapter One

I can't breathe. I'm standing at the edge of the sidewalk hunched over with my hands on my knees, wheezing while I try to catch my breath. People walking by are beginning to notice my obnoxious, heavy breathing. I mentally start scolding myself for not staying in shape this summer. Here I am, on a crowded sidewalk, gasping for breath like I'm some sort of Olympian who just broke a world record when all I really did was carry eight boxes filled with old books half a mile down the street to the Salvation Army donation box. All because the library I work for no longer wants them. Granted, they were really heavy boxes, and the job did require more than one trip, but that's beside the point.

I suppose the longer than necessary stares I'm getting from all the people sharing the sidewalk with me is my punishment for spending the duration of my summer lying on the beach, reading, and binge watching Netflix.

I avoid making eye contact with the people gawking at me as I take a minute to control my breathing. It isn't until I've gone from obnoxiously gasping for air to only slightly wheezing when I turn and stomp back down the street to the library.

The summer between my freshman and sophomore year of high school, my mom encouraged me to go out and find a job. That probably had something to do with the fact that I spent most of my free time freshman year on my own, reading books, and working on homework. If it weren't for my best friend, encouraging me to join the school's dance team, I'm positive my mother would have come to believe I was some sort of 15-year-old recluse with plans of world domination.

I think she assumed if I got a job, I would make a ton of new friends. That somehow, I would become a really sociable teen that hangs out at the mall, goes to the movies, and gets invited to all the summer parties. It's not that I don't like those things. In fact, I don't mind them at all. It's just that I prefer to spend my days on my own, curled up in a chair with my nose in a book.

My mother made no attempt to be subtle that summer when she sat me down and asked me if I was depressed. Apparently, my chosen life of solitude was not normal for a 15-year-old girl and she wanted me to "spread my wings."

Her words, not mine.

My mother's endeavor to turn me into a social butterfly was what ultimately led me to start applying for jobs. It wasn't long after that when I started working at the local Starbucks. She was ecstatic. I'm pretty sure she was yearning for me to start coming home past curfew and go crazy coloring my hair neon shades. Alas, I did not begin my life of that as a rebellious teen, but rather I simply continued my life of solitude.

Working at Starbucks taught me two things:

#1: Nobody was interested in making any new friends.

It didn't take me very long to figure out I was the odd duck in the pond. Once high school comes along, you either have friends or you don't. It sounds harsh, but that's the reality of it. At this point, cliques have already formed and friends have already been chosen. Unless you're a new kid in town, you're pretty much screwed. Since I've lived here my entire life, I was screwed.

#2: I hate coffee. It is absolutely foul.

Throughout my time at Starbucks, I tried every drink on the menu determined to find something I liked. Turns out, it didn't matter how much sugar, cream, caramel, or chocolate I put in a drink. If there was coffee in it, I wasn't drinking it.

I only worked there for about two months before I was "politely" let go. I guess when customers ask, "what would you recommend?", "Jamba Juice across the street" is not the right answer.

Some good did come from the Starbucks fiasco. I found I really liked working. Plus, it was nice not having to ask my parents for money all the time. It felt good earning something of my own. So, a week after I "politely" left Starbucks, I found a job stocking books at Fayetteville's town library. It was a pretty simple job. It allowed me to have unlimited access to books five afternoons a week. Unfortunately for my mother, the only other employee working at the library was Ida.