Isle of Sanctum | The Aya Thrasher Chronicles | Book 1 |[Editing]

Chapter Twenty-Six

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

AYA

The next morning, I went for a walk. Although we were being fed well here, I found myself losing weight, which I struggled to do at home. Today, I decided to go to the old town. I had seen enough of downtown for a lifetime.

I strolled past the park, toward the edge of the town. It was about a thirty-minute walk. I didn't care. I didn't feel fatigued at all. There was a body of water contained in an hour-glass shape, almost like a gigantic pool. Something about the water was mesmerizing. I couldn't stop staring into the calm turquoise waves. Calm. Peaceful. Beautiful.

I sat down on the ledge and dipped my fingers into the water, swirling them around. A cool breeze blew behind my back. The weather was not too cold nor too warm, the perfect temperature.

"Mind if I join you?" I heard a voice and strained my neck.

It was Trevor. His eyes were twinkling and his soft hair was blowing in the gentle breeze. What was he doing all the way over here?

"Um, yeah sure," I said, trying to hide my excitement.

Trevor sat down inches beside me. He picked up a small piece of gravel and skipped it across the surface of the water.

"So Emmy's something, isn't she?" Trevor turned to me.

"She's fine," I replied.

"Really?" He smiled wide, revealing perfectly white teeth. "You don't find her just a tad bit pushy?"

I shook my head. "I mean maybe, but she's not as bad as I was expecting."

He looked away and picked up another piece of gravel. "I used to have a crush on her."

I turned to him. "What?"

"It was awhile ago. She was my sister's friend," he explained. "Don't worry it's long over." He smiled at me.

I starred deep into the water. I didn't know what to say to Trevor. I was always so nervous around him.

"So what's your story?" He asked.

"My story?" I hesitated. "I'm really not that interesting," I chucked, slightly.

"Lay it on me. Let me be the judge of that," he replied.

"I was born in Woodport, which used to be Boston," I began. "My mom kicked my dad out at when I was nine. I grew up in a poverty-stricken neighborhood with my useless stepdad," I continued. "I wanted to be a writer. Well that was before I knew the world was ending."

Trevor rubbed his chin with his index finger. "That sounds interesting to me. What kind of writer did you want to be?" 

"Literary fiction."

"Like Hemingway?" He asked.

I nodded. "You about those old authors?" I was impressed.

He nodded. "Yeah, I love all the classics. What I would do to get a physical hard copy of one of them."

"I know what you mean. It's hard to find physical copies of any books, anymore," I responded.

"What's your favorite?" He asked.

I thought about it for a brief second. "Probably, Three Killings and a Wedding on the Hill," I told him. "It had limited print, so you've probably never heard of it." I said.

"I'll have to check that out."

"You never told me your story," I pointed out.

"Born and raised here. That's about all to tell," he said. "Now, I'm not that interesting," he joked.

He then glanced down at his golden time-keeper. It was beautiful and must have cost a fortune.

"Dang, our session starts in an hour. We should probably head back," he said.

I nodded and started to lift myself off of the ground. As I lifted my right leg up, I tripped and started to stumble over a piece of sediment. I felt an arm wrap around my waist, pulling me up, and preventing me from colliding with concrete. It was Trevor who had pulled me back. He was actually touching me. My insides were screaming with joy and excitement. Once I had regained my balance, he let me go. I looked up at him, my face reddened with embarrassment.

"Sorry, I'm clumsy," I apologized.

He shook his head. "Yeah, you better be careful. Wouldn't want to mess up that pretty face of yours." He slightly caressed the side of my face. "That would be a shame."

Did I hear that right? Did he actually call me pretty? I had never been called that before. The girls at school used to call me, "Aya the hippo". How could I be pretty? How could such a beautiful boy think of me as being attractive? I wouldn't consider myself attractive at all. I was surprised he wasn't chasing after Rayne. Even with all her anger issues, she was one of the most beautiful people I had ever seen.

EDITED: 01/30/2020