A Love in This Life

Chapter 1

Rain. Such a simple word to describe such an un-simple thing. Rain means water falling lightly from the sky. It means sadness swelling inside a person with such a force, it drops you from the air. Rain is what I see when I close my eyes.

It all started in the eighth grade. I didn't understand why people would laugh, or point. I got used to it, ended up being able to get out of their view. Just a nobody instead of that somebody nobody liked. Instead of eating in the cafeteria, I would read in the library.

Home wasn't any better. Being the middle of five kids isn't as easy as it seems. Two older brothers, and a younger sister and brother who were twins. Ignored most of the time, I spent my hours reading there too.

A book can do so many wonderful and horrible things to a person. It can Make you cry or laugh. Smile or frown. Scream with anger or joy. That's what I love about it. Because in books I'm not the shy, weird, unadventurous girl I really am. I'm outgoing, I'm fun, and mostly I can go on any adventure too impossible in real life.

My first friend I ever had, was Amber Mannan. I met her in the first grade, and she was way more outgoing than I was. She laughed and talked too loudly most of the time. But if you really got to know her, you'd realize how sad and self-conscious her true emotions were. I didn't realize that until the sixth grade when I saw the scars on her legs when we went to the beach in Florida.

I asked what they were from and she said her pet cat, Nina, scratched her. Over and over. I didn't quite believe her, but kept quiet. I guess looking back at it now, that was the biggest mistake of my life. Because sometimes someone that sad doesn't know how to keep living. Amber didn't know to keep living.

I haven't had a friend since the eigth grade, which is when I lost Amber. I can't say I haven't thought about what Amber did. Because I do. All the time. It doesn't make sense to me that someone can be sad enough to not know how to move on. I sad sometimes. But not sad enough to want to inflict more pain upon myself, which doesn't make sense anyway.

So I go on. Blank out the tears and rain. Get good grades on tests that don't matter. Do homework that you won't remember. If I ever start to think about Amber again I read out the pain. "Don't think about it, only be positive," says my father, who in return is the most negative person I've ever met. My mother would just hug me and not say anything, which is exactly what my sad heart needed.

Now, in highschool, I'm back to being that middle child whose always just fine. Nothing wrong but stressed about that chemistry test coming up. Freshman year was hard, but I didn't think about Amber as much as I thought I would. Now, as a sophmore, thinking about Amber makes me smile. I don't think about her death, I think about her life and how she would laugh and giggle.

I still don't have any friends, but I'm not as sad anymore. Until today. I was reading my favorite book, "To Kill a Mockingbird," when one of the popular dudes, whose name was Bryan Silver, came up to the wall I was leaning against. He had a small smirk spread across his face as I pretended not to notice he was there.
"Hey little Roseline," his smirk got wider.
"It's Ro," I said softly, surprised he knew my full name.
"What did you say to me?" he scoffed. I looked up at him now.
"I said it's Ro," this time louder. He smacked my book out of my hand with force.
"I don't think so," by now there was a ring of people around us.

He grabbed a piece of food of a plate nest to him. It was mashed potato. As he started to chant my full name Roseline, and threw the food at me. Others joined in. I had nowhere to go so I just crouched down, my hands over my face, tears streaming down my cheeks.

A teacher I didn't know broke it all up with a frown on her face. She grabbed my arm softly and pulled me up. We walked to the girls locker room, where I got cleaned up and changed out of my t-shirt and jeans into my gym clothes. I had stopped crying once my mom got to my school and picked me up. We didn't talk on the way home. Once we got to my house I went to my room and cried. Some people were just wrong.