Moonlight Denial: Shades of Moonlight Book One

“If only we had never moved to this stupid place,” Nicoli grumbled bitterly. He hissed through his teeth as a warm washcloth was pressed against his swollen left eye.

“Hush, you don’t really mean that,” his mother chided him as she had Nicoli hold the cloth in place. “Is your nose still bleeding?” she then asked, getting more tissue ready just in case.

Nicoli pulled a red stained wad of tissue from one of his nostrils. He wiggled his nose a bit before snatching the tissue from his mother when he felt blood move in his nasal passage.

“Yep, still bleeding,” he answered as he shoved the tissue up his nostril to prevent any of the crimson fluid from escaping.

Laura Vurkeshaun sighed as she wrapped her arms around her son’s shoulders.

“My poor little baby,” she said, nestling her chin on Nicoli’s soft hair. “Your second day of school and something like this happens. It’s absolutely horrible.”

“Mom, don’t call me a baby, I’m eighteen now,” Nicoli muttered, but patted his mother’s arm affectionately. “And hey, I’ve never had a black eye before, you’re supposed to try something new everyday,” he said, trying to be funny as he took the washcloth off his eye.

“It’s not a joke, Nicy, I should call every one of those boys’ parents that did this to you,” Laura said seriously as she sat in the seat beside her son.

The cloth fell to the kitchen table and Nicoli stared at his mother in horror.

“Mom, no,” he said, grabbing onto her hand. “That won’t help any, it’ll only make things worse, trust me. The school already suspended them for a week, so just let it go,” the boy pleaded.

Laura simply shook her head as she picked up the discarded washcloth with her free hand. She dabbed at Nicoli’s busted lip gently to remove any remnants of blood.

“A week, that is hardly any punishment for this,” she said, her light pink colored lips pursed like she had just eaten something sour. “Five boys mauling you deserves at least five months.” Laura finished cleaning Nicoli’s face and set the cloth aside. “What exactly did you do to make them want to do this?” she asked.

Nicoli looked shocked then offended by the question.

“Me!? What makes you think I did anything to make those guys beat the crap out of me?” he huffed.

“Nicoli,” his mother said sternly. The look she gave him was firm and demanding. She knew him far too well.

Nicoli tried to stare her down, but ended up sighing and giving up. He’d never be able to beat her.

“Our English teacher was going on and on about all the dumb stories and legends this town has about ghosts and witches and other paranormal crap. Said it gave Whixton such “Rich and deep history”,” Nicoli said, using his fingers as quotation marks. “He then decided to be bright and bring me into it. Since Dad is the lead architect in the construction of the new Supernatural Museum, he said I must be so proud and excited to live in a town like Whixton,” he explained in a sarcastic voice as he made a face.

“So, I told him outright. No, I think it’s stupid. Anyone that focuses its towns selling point on made up, fictitious, mind numbingly dumb crap as that is retarded and should be smacked a good thousand times.”

“Nicoli!” Laura cried out in alarm.

“Okay, I didn’t say that exactly, but close enough,” Nicoli corrected himself. “I suppose some of the guys thought I was calling their town a pathetic, sink-hole—“

“Which you were,” his mother interrupted.

“…which I was,” Nicoli agreed. “And they tracked me down after class and, well, the rest is history,” he finished, gesturing to his current condition.

“Oh, Nicy,” Laura groaned, rubbing her eyes. “The people of Whixton are very proud of their history and its connections to the supernatural. What were you thinking?” she asked.

“I was only speaking my mind,” Nicoli said defensively.

“Yes, but you must learn to say things more delicately,” his mother said, pinching his ear lightly. She normally did so whenever she thought her son did something stupid. “How are you ever going to make friends if you act like such a sourpuss?”

A dark look crossed Nicoli’s face. He slouched in his chair and crossed his arms, refusing to look at his mother.

“I had friends,” he muttered. “Really good friends.”

A pang of guilt went through Laura as she realized she had said the wrong thing.

“Nicy, I—“

“I never asked to come here,” Nicoli continued, cutting Laura off. “I was happy back in California. I didn’t want to move to this town of air headed, daydreaming jerks.”

Not knowing what to say, Laura wrapped her arms around her son and pulled him to her for a hug.

Nicoli complied with the embrace and even relished it. He always felt so safe and secure with his mother. Like nothing bad could happen in the world when she held him.

“I wanna go home,” he whined pitifully. He knew how much of a child he sounded, but at that moment he really didn’t care. It was a man’s right to act like a child when around his mother.

“Hush, honey, you are home,” Laura cooed comfortingly. “Just give this place a chance. It’s only been a week since we’ve gotten everything settled. I’m sure you’ll grow to like it here.”

“Can I bet you on it?” Nicoli asked dully.

His mother sighed and let him go to look at him, deciding on a different strategy.

“You know how important this job is to your father. I know we didn’t tell you just how bad his business was doing back in California, but, as a family, we desperately needed this.” Laura then smiled. “And besides, this was your father’s hometown. You should be excited to see the place where he grew up, I know he is.”

Nicoli rolled his eyes and huffed. Of course his mother would play that card.

“Just because he loved it here, doesn’t mean I will,” he muttered, but sounded less moody.

“Just promise me you’ll give it a chance. That’s all I ask,” his mother said.

The boy’s lips pursed, in an imitation of his mother. He then gave in and gave a simple shrug. With that small movement he told his mother he wouldn’t completely disregard the idea.

“Thank you, Nicy,” Laura said with a bright smile and leaned forward to place a kiss on her son’s temple. “Now, would you like something to eat? You’ve had a hard day, I’m sure it’ll help,” she asked as she stood up.

Nicoli just shook his head.

“Nah, I’m not hungry, besides, overworking my lip can’t be good for it,” he replied, touching his tongue to the slight split in his lip.

“Nonsense, if you don’t work it it’ll heal like that and when you do use it it’ll simple break open again. I’ll just make you a sandwich,” she insisted before setting off to work.

“Fine,” Nicoli relented, not feeling like arguing. “Just give me a half of it then.” He would at least meet her half way.

Laura agreed with her usual smile and began moving about, collecting what she needed.

Nicoli watched her as she did so. He loved many things about his mother. The way her light brown hair swayed along her shoulder blades in loose waves. How whenever she smiled or laughed wrinkles would form at the corners of her blue eyes. The smile she graced on anyone, worthy or not. Even as his mother got older as the years progressed, she was still the picture of kindness and motherhood that Nicoli had always known growing up. When the time came when Laura would be old, and wrinkled, with gray hair, this moment would always be the way he saw her.

Nicoli prided himself on the close relationship he had with his mother, with both of his parents. In a time when it was natural for children to disregard and even disrespect their parents, he worked on the tight, close bond that kept his family together. He wouldn’t give up his parent’s for anything in the world. That was one reason he didn’t completely fight, like he wanted to, against moving. His father needed the job, his mother was willing to follow, so what was Nicoli to do? Though, the boy had his own ideas on what he was going to do after he graduated high school…

By Laura’s movements Nicoli realized she was already familiar with the new kitchen. Not hesitating to think about where everything was. It was so easy for her. To adapt. To envelop a new place as her own. Why had that part of the genes skipped over Nicoli?

Nicoli simply huffed, making his bangs shudder in the sudden rush of air. It was because patience and acceptance had mutated into stubbornness in him, a mutation that got him into trouble every time it reared its ugly head. It was the luck of the draw he supposed.

**********

Nicoli trudged into his room, leaving the door half open. He unceremoniously dropped the plate that held his half ham sandwich on his dark wood desk. The boy stood there for a moment before sighing and using both of his hands to ruffle up his hair.

His footsteps echoed on the wooden floor as Nicoli walked over to his full length mirror on his closet. He cocked his head as he studied his image.

“Damn, I look like a complete wreck,” Nicoli said, making a face. His clothes that covered his long, thin frame were completely stretched out and ruined. There were even a few new tears in his faded blue jeans. Luckily he had no really close attachment to his garments.

His shoulder length dark brown, almost black, hair that framed his face still looked tousled and mused from the fight. Nicoli admitted he looked rather ridiculous with the pieces of tissue sticking out of his nose, so he attempted to take them out again. Relief made him sigh when all the boy felt was the dried blood that caked the inside of his nose.

After throwing the bits of paper away, Nicoli leaned towards the mirror to check out his face, where he had taken most of the damage. His lip was split and swollen, but he was thankful he hadn’t lost any teeth. His nose was red and flakes of dried blood surrounded his nostrils to add to the effect. Then there was his eye. The skin around his left eye was puffy and the color was already turning a sickening black and odd yellow color, making his blue eye pop in contrast. The eye was partially closed due to the swollenness.

“I wonder if I’ll even be able to see out of it tomorrow,” Nicoli wondered out loud as he pressed against the discolored skin with his finger. “Ow!” He quickly withdrew his finger as pain shot under the skin of his face. “That was smart.”

A creak coming from the door caught Nicoli’s attention and he turned toward it. The first smile in awhile appeared on his face when he saw what caused it.

“Hey, Beethoven,” he greeted happily.

A big Golden Retriever barked at the boy and the dog’s tail wagged furiously as he shifted from paw to paw and whined.

“How’s my big boy? Come here,” Nicoli beckoned, patting his shoulders.

Beethoven tilted his head, staring at his owner with big, molten chocolate eyes. He then padded over to Nicoli and hefted himself up onto his hind legs, resting his front paws on the boy’s shoulders.

“Good boy. I need some buddy time with my only friend here after the day I’ve had,” Nicoli told the canine, who responded by bathing his owner’s face with his tongue.

“Heh, I’d probably go crazy if we hadn’t been able to take you with us,” Nicoli cooed as he buried his fingers in the golden fur of Beethoven’s neck.

After a few minutes of being slathered by doggy kisses, Nicoli forced Beethoven to get down.

“Thanks, smelling of dog breath always makes me feel better,” he chuckled as he scratched Beethoven’s back till the dog’s leg instinctually came up to scratch himself.

“Good boy, now go lay down,” Nicoli commanded, snapping his fingers and pointing toward the bed. Ever obedient, Beethoven trotted over to the boy’s bed and jumped up onto it. After pacing over the mattress the dog found a comfortable spot and laid down, laying his head down on his paws and looking up at Nicoli as his tail beat against the bed.

With his loyal companion settled, Nicoli used his sleeve to wipe off his face. His mother always scolded him for letting Beethoven lick his face, said it was disgusting and unsanitary. But what did Nicoli care about dog germs? After five years of raising Beethoven from a pup, Nicoli figured he was pretty much immune to whatever lurked in the dog’s mouth.

Once he was clean, for the most part, Nicoli went to a bookshelf near his desk. His new room was practically bare, the boy taking his time in unpacking his things. The only part of the room that was fully filled out was the bookcase that was filled with row after row of video tapes.

Nicoli picked up his sandwich and began nibbling on it as he used his other hand to file through all the tapes. Each one looked the same, except for the white stripes that had various dates on them.

“Ah there you are,” Nicoli said and pulled one out that had the most recent date. With the tape in tow, the boy grabbed a small video camera from the desk and walked over to his bed.

Beethoven whined and his tail wagged wildly as the animal eyed the food that dangled from his owner’s mouth.

A brow rose as Nicoli watched his dog give his “Can I have it?” beg. He chuckled and shook his head as he set the camera and tape down.

“All right, all right. I’m not that hungry anyways,” Nicoli said as he took the sandwich out of his mouth. “Now, be a good boy and stay,” the boy told him as he balanced the half eaten sandwich on Beethoven’s nose.

“Stay. Stay…aaaaaaaaand go!”

In a second Beethoven jerked his head up and caught the tasty morsel, devouring it instantly.

“Good boy,” Nicoli praised, patting Beethoven’s head. “Just don’t tell Mom or else we both won’t be eating for awhile.” With Beethoven fed and happy, Nicoli snatched up his equipment and plopped down beside his canine companion, who laid his paws and head on his owner’s lap.

Nicoli inserted the tap into his camera and once he had everything set up he turned it on and pointed the lens at himself.

“Hello, one and all, Nicoli Vurkeshaun here again, with another rounding rendition of ‘Nicoli’s Life’, guest starring Beethoven.”

At the sound of his name Beethoven sat up and barked at the camera lens that was now pointed at him.

“Hey, hey, now, this isn’t about your life story,” Nicoli mock chided before turning back to the camera. “Though I shall take this time to tell all the viewers out there that we shall be changing the name of the show from ‘Nicoli’s Life’ to ‘Nicoli’s Hell’. That’s right, we are broadcasting from my new town of Whixton and, as you can see from my appearance,” Nicoli said, moving the camera to do a full body swipe of him, “it’s not going all too well.”

“I apparently made a fatal error today by bad mouthing this stupid town and my oh so wonderful classmates decided to…straighten me out a bit. Like the new makeover they gave me? I call it Pummel Fashion, interesting, no? I especially love the intense black eye,” he told his imaginary audience, zooming in on his wounded eye.

“But, on a more serious note…someone get me out of here!” he yelled, making Beethoven yip in surprise. “This place is a hell hole! The people here are insane, believing in all of this paranormal nonsense. I don’t belong here. I hate it here. I loathe it entirely. I have no friends, and today, I’m pretty sure I just made some enemies. When those guys are free from their suspension, I’m pretty sure they are going to kill me! Or at least make my life a living hell.”

Nicoli sighed then pointed the camera at Beethoven.

“Any comments with your experience here so far, Beethoven?” the boy questioned the dog.

Beethoven whined then, with his thick, pink tongue, licked the camera lens.

“Eeeew.” Nicoli used his sleeve again to wipe off the camera. “Thank you for that in depth comment.” The boy then lifted the camera back up to him. “As you can see, Beethoven would like to go back home too. The only reason I’m even begrudgingly tolerating this is for Mom and Dad. Dad is so excited about being here that I’ve heard at least a hundred stories about when he was my age. Truthfully, some of it sounded interesting, but now that I’m here…not so much so.”

“And not only that but I miss Zack and Brittany to death. We were the original trio. The three Musketeers and now…I’m the solo jackass.” Nicoli shook his head and his shoulders drooped. “I never thought I could feel so lonely. Guess you never really appreciate the friends you have till you’re torn away from them…and it really, really sucks.”

A yawn suddenly overtook Nicoli and he shook his head to try and wake up.

“Well, I suppose that’s enough for today. I’m tired from both the physical and emotional part of my make-over. So, I’ll just go curl up in a huddle of self pity and woe. Nicoli, signing out.”

With that, Nicoli shut off the camera and leaned over to safely place it on his bedside table.

“You wanna take a nap with me, Beethoven? I’m sure you’re tired from doing your doggy duties all day,” Nicoli asked his pet as he turned and flopped onto his back on the bed.

Beethoven gladly accepted the offer and curled up against his owner’s side, resting his head on Nicoli’s stomach.

“At least I have one friend here,” Nicoli muttered, gently petting Beethoven’s head. “It was so easy to make friends back home, why is it so hard here? Is it me? I guess I’m not making things easy for myself but…bah, whatever, no sense in moping about it,” Nicoli cut himself off. “People here will either like me or hate me…and some definitely hate me.”

Flashes of the fight ran across Nicoli’s mind. The sneering faces. The taunts. The fists that painfully collided with any part of his body they could hit. Nicoli had never felt so over powered and helpless. If getting pummeled by five huge guys wasn’t bad enough, the cheers were worse. People had actually crowded around them and cheered as Nicoli had his ass handed to him. Not one rooted for him or tried to help him. It was him against everyone now. He was on his own and Nicoli was sure that it was only going to go downhill from there.

Beethoven whined, sensing his owner’s sadness and gently licked the hand Nicoli had resting on his stomach.

“We’ll get through it Beethoven,” Nicoli mumbled, closing his eyes and trying to ignore the throb that came from his eye. “We’ll get through it…together…”

Nicoli’s breathing became soft and even as he slipped into sleep, recuperating from the day’s events.

***************

It was the creak of the door that woke Nicoli. A soft grunt came from him as he was pulled from his sleep. As Nicoli became more aware of his surroundings, he heard slow footsteps coming towards his bed. It was when a shadow crossed over him that Nicoli finally opened his eyes, which widened when he saw a figure looming over him.

“Ahh!” he shrieked, causing both Beethoven and the figure to jump.

“Ah! Whoa, Nicoli, calm down, it’s me,” the person told him, reaching over and turning on the lamp.

Nicoli squinted and hissed from the sudden brightness. But he got over it enough to glare at the person standing above him.

“Jeeze, Dad, what are you trying to do? Give me a heart attack?” Nicoli asked as he sat up and put his arm around a frightened Beethoven.

“That wasn’t my intention, but that seems to be what happened,” Nicoli’s father laughed as he sat on the edge of the bed. His expression then sobered as he looked over his son. “Your mother told me what happened and I wanted to come check on you.”

“Well, drink it in. I’m worse for wear, but all right,” Nicoli said with a shrug.

Lance Vurkeshaun whistled as he gently moved Nicoli’s hair away from his face.

“That is one intense shiner. They really worked you over.”

“Yeah, I know. I was there,” Nicoli said with a grin, but stopped when he felt the skin of his lip stretch uncomfortably.

Lance sighed, his expression showing concern.

“I’m sorry, Nicoli,” he apologized.

“For what?” the boy asked in confusion.

“I feel like this is mostly my fault. I’m the one that moved you into this environment. I thought you might rub some of the people the wrong way with your beliefs against the paranormal, but I didn’t think they’d actually harm you for them.”

When his father fell silent Nicoli assessed his words. To a certain degree Nicoli blamed him too. But there was only so much that could be put on Lance’s shoulders.

“Don’t sweat it, Dad,” Nicoli told him. “I’m the one that opened my big, stupid mouth. I just forgot there’s no one that has my back here like Zack would have. What’s one to do?” he said. He wrapped his arms around his furry friend and leaned against Beethoven, who instantly tried to lick his face.

“I know it’s hard, Nicoli, getting used to a new place and all, but I raised you tough. Just give it time,” Lance advised.

Give it a chance. Give it time. God, sometimes I think these two plan out their pep talks together, Nicoli thought, but kept it to himself. Instead, he smiled at his father as he pulled away from Beethoven.

“I know, Dad. I just have to be more “open minded.” Though, I’ll tell you now I’ll never believe in this supernatural hoo-haa,” Nicoli warned.

Lance laughed and ruffled his son’s hair.

“You’d be surprised. This town has turned even the most hard core disbelievers into believers. It might work its magic on you too.”

Nicoli rolled his eyes, but the smile still played on his face.

Just like with his mother, Nicoli loved his father. Though he looked up to the older man more than anything else. Lance was everything Nicoli aspired to be. Kind, good natured, strong willed, funny, all the good quality’s anyone could want; though his dad could be a little slow sometimes.

Out of the two, Nicoli looked more like his father. While Lance’s hair was short and trimmed, father and son shared the same dark color. Nicoli had inherited his mother’s eyes, but his facial structure was more his father’s and the boy hoped that, once he got older, he’d have his father’s body. Lean, but strong with a bit of muscle. He was also a brilliant architect and Nicoli was glad at least someone finally noticed, even if it was this stupid town.

“So, did you at least get a few punches in? I see your knuckles are a bit worked over,” Lance asked, lifting up Nicoli’s right hand to look at his knuckles that were scrapped and raw.

“Actually that was me attempting to sock one of the guys and hitting the wall instead,” Nicoli admitted with a lame smile. “Then they all pounced on me and held me down as they beat the crap out of me, sooo I didn’t really get another chance.”

“Whatever happened to a fair fight?” his father asked in exasperation.

“Oh, it died out awhile ago,” Nicoli told him.

“Well, don’t let this get you down, son, it’ll work out,” Lance said encouragingly, patting Nicoli’s shoulder. “Your mother also wanted me to tell you dinner will be ready soon. Can we expect to see you down there?”

“Yeah, I suppose. Let me just change into some other, non-stretched clothes, and I’ll be down in a minute,” Nicoli told him.

“All right, see you down there,” his father said before getting up and leaving the room.

Nicoli watched his door return to the half open position and he sighed. Both his parent’s voices raced through his head.

Give it a chance. Give it time. Give it time. Give it a chance.

He looked at his ever faithful Beethoven, who gazed back.

“They have good intentions, but parents just don’t get it, do they?” he asked.

Beethoven plopped his upper body onto his owner’s lap and gave a deep, gruff sigh, agreeing whole heartedly.

***************

Nicoli was having the slowest day of his life. He wanted to shout in victory when the bell for lunch finally rang. He trudged through the hallways with the other kids, getting looks every so often, and the snickering. Nicoli had been hearing them snicker all day, either about what happened yesterday or his appearance, and it was starting to really grate on his nerves.

In the lunch room, Nicoli found a secluded, circular table. He tossed his bagged lunch onto it and sat down. Back home, Nicoli always felt sorry for the kids who sat by themselves, but he never realized just how uncomfortable and humiliating it was. In all, he felt like a down right loser sitting there, alone.

“Maybe I should just ditch the rest of my classes. This is getting way too aggravating,” he muttered as he dug around in his brown bag. He pulled out a can of rootbeer, a cold slice of leftover pizza, and a bag of small carrots his mother forced on him.

Nicoli sat there for awhile, playing with the tab of his soda. He didn’t feel like eating much, he didn’t really feel like doing anything. His body ached all over and he was right in assuming he’d hardly be able to see through his left eye, the bruise around it being much darker and swollen that day.

“This is ridiculous,” Nicoli grumbled and took out his cell phone from his jacket pocket. He flipped it open and hit his speed dial for Zack’s number. Nicoli drummed his fingers on the can as he listened to his phone ring. He growled when Zack’s voicemail picked up instead of the real thing.

“Fan-flippin-tastic,” Nicoli muttered as he hit the end button and went to his next choice, Brittany. He let out a frustrated cry and tossed his phone across the table when he got the same result.

The cell phone balanced on the edge of the table, before toppling over and falling to the floor. Nicoli looked up when he didn’t hear it hit the ground. He blinked when he saw a girl across from him holding his phone and examining it.

She had the brightest red hair he had ever seen. It fell in lush waves down her shoulders and disappeared behind her back. Her skin was pale and freckles were sprinkled across her cheeks. From what Nicoli could see she was dressed in a plain white, button up shirt and a green and black plaid skirt, reminding him of a Christian school uniform.

“Wow, a Razor, nice,” she said, flipping open the phone and messing with the buttons. “I wanted one, but my mom bought me a Cherry Chocolate phone instead,” she informed him as she set down her tray she had been holding in her other hand and sat down in an empty chair across from the boy. “I was bummed out at first, but it’s an okay phone, so I guess I can’t complain.”

Nicoli stared at her for awhile as she continued to tinker with his phone. He then glanced around suspiciously, wondering if someone was trying to play a joke on him. When he saw everyone was involved with their own groups, he looked back at the odd girl.

“Um, can I help you?” Nicoli asked slowly, not knowing what to make of this situation.

“Actually, you can. Did you hear what assignment Mr. Cornoak gave? I was writing something in my book when he said it and his voice went in one ear and right out the other, like usual,” the girl giggled as she handed back his phone.

Nicoli slowly took it, as if it was going to suddenly catch fire and burn him. He wondered why she would bring up his English teacher that had gotten him into trouble with those other boys yesterday. It was then he realized he had seen the girl before, in his English class.

“Your Amelia…Fair-Fair-” He struggled for the name.

“Fairbrooke, that’s right,” Amelia finished for him with a smile, showing all of her pearly white teeth. “And you’re Nicoli Vurkeshaun. Interesting last name, it’s very fun to say. Vurkeshaun, Vurkeshaun, Vurkeshaun,” she sang then giggled.

“Uh, yeah, its okay I guess,” he said awkwardly. Nicoli wondered if she’d follow him if he just got up and left.

“And just to tell you I love your first name,” she went on. “Nicoli is such a pretty name. Nicoli Vurkeshaun. Your whole name just dances off the tongue,” Amelia told him with a girlish smile.

“Dances?” he echoed with a raised brow.

“Yep, waltz’s right off. So about that assignment…” she then pursued.

“Why are you sitting here?” Nicoli suddenly blurted out.

“Hmm?” Amelia grunted in confusion, blinking her big, hazel eyes.

“Well, I obviously have ‘Outcast’ branded into my forehead now because of what happened yesterday. So why are you sitting with me?” he questioned.

“Yeah, I heard about that. I didn’t see it because I go the other way when we get out of English to go to my Chemistry class, but I heard all about it. And you definitely look like you got chewed up and spit out,” Amelia said, making Nicoli huff and pout. “But I’m sitting here cause I want too…and I need that assignment.”

“But you do know you’re putting yourself at risk doing this, right? That’s how it works, you hang around the Outcast Kid and you have a chance of becoming diseased. Your friends are probably going to disown you now,” Nicoli told her matter-of-factly.

“No reason to worry about that,” Amelia said as she shifted her attention to her food which consisted of a burrito and, for some odd reason, a pile of pickles on the side. “None of my friends go to this school. They’re all home schooled,” she explained as she unrolled her burrito and began putting the little pickle slices into it. “I don’t really have friends here. They all think I’m weird for some odd reason.” After she put her burrito back together she lifted it to her dainty red lips and took a big bite.

Nicoli winced and tried not to make a face in disgust.

“Ya don’t say?”

“Yeah, totally weird, right? But I don’t really care. We both know that after high school their little cliques aren’t going to help them in the real world, and most of them will most likely never see each other again. Fake little friends can never amount to real, life long friends,” Amelia said with a shrug. “So I usually end up sitting alone and, well, I was sitting alone, I saw you sitting alone, so, I figured, why don’t we sit alone together? Plus, I really need-”

“That assignment, yeah, I got that,” Nicoli butted in. Though, he had to admit he was kind of liking talking to her. “So, you’re not pissed off at what I said? You know the stuff that I said, right?” he asked.

“Well, yeah, I was sitting in the same classroom when you said it,” Amelia tsked with an incredulous look. “And, no, I’m not pissed at what you said about our town being built on false, ludicrous stories of made-up, imaginary poppycock. Everyone is entitled to their own beliefs, though you’re wrong, just to let you know,” she told him with a tilt of her head. “But you believe that this world has nothing such as paranormal creatures in it, and that’s your business,” she said as she picked up her chocolate milk and drank it through a striped straw.

“Good, at least someone understands that concept,” Nicoli said with a small smile. “I thought Whixton was filled with unreasonable blockheads.”

“Oh, it is,” Amelia corrected him with her own smile. “But some of us are more tolerable blockheads than others.”

Both of them laughed and just like that the ice was completely broken. He was surprised how quickly he felt at ease with Amelia, as if he was talking with Zack or Brittany again. Maybe he wasn’t going to be forced to live out his Senior year as a friendless loser. He may have been a little too hopeful, but it was a nice thought.

“So, are you going to give me the assignment or not?”

===========================Ch. 1 End