That Day On The Beach

The Comfort "Hole"

Rabbits ,you know, are most comfortable in their burrows. I am human, but I totally understand their mentality. I am most comfortable in my room, my burrow.

A wave of comfort, relief washed over me as I shut the door behind me, blocking away the world, blocking away its evil.
Here, I was with myself, I was safe.

My room was not in a mess,unlike myself, unlike the room of any average teenager. Everything was in order. I could tell where my music DVD's were and where I'd kept my 4 year old Jane Austen novel, even when I was miles away from home (which I rarely was, really).

The curtains were only half-drawn, dark shadows were dancing on the indigo coloured walls, creating spooky patterns which I did not want to see.

I hate shadows, even more so than I hate mirrors.

Once I had drawn the curtains completely, I fell on my bed, totally exhausted, and bathed in the darkness of my room. The darkness soothed me, calmed my nerves. It certainly worked better than the pills. Those pills were unnecessary, they had just made things worse for me when the town had known of their presence in my house.

One of the cons of living in a small town: any news about your daily life, your behavior deemed to be unusual by anyone in your vicinity spread like a wildfire. People talked, a lot. But they often forgot to do it behind your back. Curiosity over courtesy, always.

I didn't even care anymore. Indifference, as I've learnt from them.

But living in a small town had its good side too: there were less people, and less noise.
More peace, if you know how to find it.

As if to prove me wrong, my cellphone rang right at that moment.

' now we got problems...and I don't think we can solve them...you made a really deep cuuut' -- the lyrics of Bad Blood interrupted my peace.

I checked the name before I picked up, which was unnecessary. Who in the world would even care to speak to Rachel Carnell after school was over? None other than Asher Young, of course.

"What's up Rage?," he asked in a teasing voice. He's given me that name: Rachel Rage Carnell. I couldn't make him stop calling me by that name and thus eventually I gave up. Maybe I deserved it, after all my mood swings that he had to bear.

Asher Young, 'Ash' as I called him, was my only friend, and it is so because we both have literally grown up together, in every aspect of growing up. It's because he's seen who I was before life made me into what I am now. When we'd first moved here, his family was one of the very few families living in this quiet area, quite far from school. We both were single children and having no other kid in the neighborhood to play with, we naturally bonded closely.

"You just interrupted my peace Fly-ash," I complained.
"Were you at peace?", he asked sarcastically.
"No how can I be? You're still in my life," I rolled my eyes at the ceiling.
He chuckled,"Right? Where did you disappear today?"
"What?"
"At school. One moment you were in the locker room and then you vanished into thin air. I'd wanted to talk to you. What was the hurry?," he asked, apparently disappointed.

Asher was one year my junior at school. If anyone talked to me at school for more than eight seconds it was him. But I'd forbidden him to do even that much, I didn't care how much he protested. Unlike me, Ash had friends at school. A considerable number of them have been reduced because of me once, I couldn't bear doing that to him again. If people saw him with me for even a few moments the news would spread. It was already bad that many knew that he and I were neighbours.

"Why does that matter?", I asked dismissively.

He quickly took on a lighter note,"No just...I thought you'll answer something cool like 'I learnt how to apparate'".

Ash and I may be opposites in many ways but we had one great thing in common: we were both potterheads.

" Don't you think I would've told you if my letter had arrived five years ago ?"
" No I don't" he sighed.

It was his firm belief that I was always hiding something from him, which was mostly not true. He knew major secrets of my life, although they are no longer secrets. He at least knows the truth behind them.

"Huh, thanks for your trust."

There was a silence on his side. What was he thinking?

"What about going to Blueberry's today ? Are you in or can I have your share of expressos ?"

"Not at all fly-Ash! I'm in!". Blueberry's was a good place, the most uncrowded cafe in the town.
"Good , at 7 p.m. then. Bring the books."
"Done, bye".
"See ya ,Rage".
-----------------------
At 6:45p.m. I packed the first 3 books of the Harry Potter series in my small denim backpack and drove to Blueberry's. It took less than ten minutes to drive there.
I was the first one to reach there, as usual, so I chose the same table by the window that I liked. Only three other tables were taken.

I stacked the books neatly on the table and took out my notebook. Blogging was my relief, my escape. Asher and I had started this blog when I was thirteen and he was 12 and a half years old. It was his birthday gift for me, which he'd ridiculously named 'asherachel.com'. The only topic we worked on together was the Wizarding world. Otherwise we blogged about different things, because our likes were completely different . I wrote about superheroes, movies, young adult books, painting. He wrote about travel, latest games, weapon technology...and dance, mostly.

I liked to dance a long while ago, it had hurt me to quit. It had hurt him too, so whenever he got the chance he would make me dance with him , when no one was around, to the songs of Taylor Swift, my favourite singer. I smiled as I thought of my stupid, childish best friend.

He was tall for his age and seemed older than me, with his faded blue eyes which often looked gray, ironically fitting his name, and deep blonde hair that had grown a bit too much in a short time.
But he was really a kid, simple-minded and broad-hearted. Boys are thought to be less complex than girls, but I couldn't gurantee that though, every boy I had known except Ash, were every bit as complicated as girls.

I was lost in thoughts when the door of the cafe slid open.

I straightened up, ready to show some real rage to him for being late, but he didn't turn, I could only see his deep grey hoodie.
I started to call out, " Here! Ash--" but he just turned then. I stopped.

He was not Asher, neither someone I'd known or seen in this town before.
My mouth was still half open in surprise as the person started walking toward me.