TheFallenStarBookSeries1 (2 page)

Chalking it up to my imagination, I grabbed my backpack and headed downstairs to get some breakfast. That’s when I felt the strangest thing I had ever felt—this overwhelming sadness building up inside me. Seconds later, I was crying, real tears and everything.

It was weird.

Up until then, at least as far back as I could remember, I’d never experienced anything like it before.  From then on, my life was never the same. The prickle would show up and
bam
, I’d be bouncing with happiness. Or boiling with anger. Or…well, you get the picture. And once I felt an emotion, it never left me. In the beginning, I’d really struggled to keep all of my new found feelings under control. There was this one awful incident at school where I had this sudden outburst and started bawling right in the middle of Mr. Belford’s lecture on Plate Tectonics. People stared at me like I was a freak, which is totally understandable. I mean, only a freak would cry over shifting plates.

But anyways…

I had done quite a few searches on the internet, trying to figure out what was happening to me, but I found nothing remotely related to what I was going through. Apparently, whatever “it” was was one hundred percent original. Which was great. Just great. My life would be so much easier if—

My alarm shrieked, startling me so badly I actually jumped and spun around.

Man, my nightmares were making me jumpy.

I hit the off button. Time for school.
Ugh
. School was so my least favorite part of the day. My past inability to experience emotions had kept me detached from everyone and everything, which resulted in my current life being a friendless one. This had been fine when I couldn’t feel, because I’d had no idea what I was missing out on. But now…well, let’s just say that for someone who has no friends going to school is like dangling a piece of bacon in front of a dog’s face—pure and utter torture. I hated watching everyone walk around in their little cliques while I stood on the sidelines alone.

I tossed my blanket on the bed and threw on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. I ran a brush through my long, tangled brown hair and pulled it back into a ponytail. Then I went over to the full length mirror on the back of my bedroom door and did a quick glance over. My legs were way too long, my skin far too pale, and my eyes…they were violet. Yes weird, I know. But it fit right in with everything else that had to do with me.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Marco and Sophia—my grandparents who insist I call them by their first names—were already there. Sophia stood over the oven, pans hissing, as the smell of bacon filled the air. Marco sat at the table, the morning newspaper opened up in front of him.

The room was small and brightly lit, making the yellow walls nearly blinding. Add that to the teal cupboards—which Sophia insisted were sky blue, but who was she trying to kid—and the room had this sort of funhouse effect going on.

I grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and took a seat at the kitchen table.

Marco peered over the newspaper at me, his black oval rimmed glasses sliding down the brim of his slightly crooked nose.  “Gemma,” he mumbled with a subtle nod.

I strained a smile.

I’ve lived with Marco and Sophia since I was one, after my parent’s passed away in a tragic car accident. That’s all I know about my parents—how they died. I’d asked Marco and Sophia about them a few weeks ago after the crazy prickle thing had traced its way down my neck. To say they’d freaked out was putting it mildly.  They’d gone full on ballistic, yelling that I was never to ask about my parents again. And when I’d shed tears and screamed back, things got even worse. Finally, I ended up storming off to my room. Ever since then, our already strained relationship worsened. We barely talked to each other, which I guess isn’t that big of a change since we’d barely talked before.

Over the last few weeks, I’d been trying to make some sense out of why they refused to speak about my parents. All I could come up with was that maybe talking about my parents was too painful for them. Either that or they didn’t like me.

And it wasn’t just my asking about my parents that had Marco and Sophia acting crazy. Every time I was near them, I could sense them cringing, and the atmosphere would weigh down like the air taken on an abrupt case of humidity.  One day I’d come down to breakfast smiling, and when Sophia saw me, she dropped a cup. Marco had stormed off outside, slamming the back door behind him. Evidently, they preferred the old hollow me. I don’t know why, though. I didn’t. They never even asked me about my sudden ability to feel either. I mean, if you had a child that had been an emotionless zombie for most of her life, then suddenly she did a complete 180 in the emotional department, wouldn’t you celebrate and talk about it instead of getting pissed off.

I know I would.

But since Marco and Sophia chose to say nothing about it, I opted to keep the prickly sensation to myself. Besides, I had a gut wrenching feeling that if I did mention it to them, I’d be buying myself a one-way a ticket to the Psych Ward.

“Do you want some bacon?” Sophia’s voice yanked me out of my thoughts.

The bacon sizzled as she tapped her foot on the tile floor. She reminded me a lot of one of those women in a 1950’s TV series; her auburn hair pulled back into a bun, a crisp white apron tied over her floral dress.

“Sure,” I said, starting to get to my feet. I wish we could be closer. Yes, I knew I should be grateful that I had grandparents who fed me and put a roof over my head.  And don’t get me wrong, I am. But it would have been nice if they’d at least talk to me more than what was required. Or maybe give me a smile once and a while. Was that too much to ask? “But I have to go start my car first.”

“Marco already did for you,” she said curtly.

“Oh.”   I turned to Marco. “Then—”

The sound of the chair grinding against the tile floor cut me off.  Marco rose to his feet, all tall and mighty like. He folded his newspaper and tucked it under his arm. “I’m going to um…” He trailed off and hurried out of the kitchen.

He did that a lot—mumbling to himself or walking away mid-sentence. He was a retired salesman, but it was so hard to picture since he couldn’t carry on a conversation for more than a minute.

The spatula clanked as Sophia tossed it on the counter. “Go get a plate and come get some then.”  Her nippy tone was my signal to hurry up and get out of her hair.

So I did, rushing over and piling a few pieces of bacon on a plate, along with some eggs. Then I ate my food so quickly that I nearly choked twice.

Once I finished choking my food down, I trampled through the snowy driveway, climbed in my faded blue Mitsubishi Mirage that made a loud clanking noise every time I pushed on the gas pedal, and headed off to school.

Marco and Sophia had given me the car six months ago when they’d decided that they were tired of driving me to and from the bus stop, which was about a ten mile drive each way.

See, I lived in this very small, very spread out town called Afton and driving anywhere always took some time. The town was known for two things: its infamous elk horn arch made of real elk antlers, and its talent for accumulating snow nine months out of the year. Now, I was in no way, shape, or form a fan of either the snow or the cold, so living here was like a polar bear trying to live in Hawaii—unbearable and very unpractical.

When I graduate here in a few months, I am so packing my bags and moving to some place warm and one-hundred percent mountain free.

Today, the normally poor road conditions were even worse due to the temp being five below and freezing everything in sight. Yep, five below, I’m not kidding. Forced to drive at the pace of a snail, I managed to play through almost the entire CD of Taking Back Sunday—one of my all time favorite bands—before arriving at school. I parked my car right as the bell shrilled from inside the school and reverberating its way outside. I grabbed my bag, scrambled out of the car, and barreled across the ice-skating-of-a-rink parking lot. I wouldn’t have cared so much about being late, but over the last month I’d managed to run up a near record breaking amount of tardies.

As I reached the sidewalk, about ready to take off in a full-on sprint, I had to stop because the prickling sensation made an unannounced appearance on the back of my neck, poking at my skin like a tattoo needle.  I held my breath and waited. Each experience was like opening up a present. I never knew what feeling was going to consume me. Or whether I’d like the feeling or want to exchange it for something else.

A few seconds ticked by, but no new feelings came.  Well, except for the feeling that I wasn’t alone. Which I wasn’t. There were a few people lurking out by their cars, and a girl in a neon pink coat was sprinting like mad for the glass entrance doors of the school. Obviously, she was trying not to be late, which was what I should have been doing. But I couldn’t get my stupid feet to budge, as if the soles of my pink and black DC shoes had melted their way to the sidewalk. And then, suddenly, I saw him; a guy, ambling across the parking lot as if he had all the time in the world.

My heart did this little fluttery thing that I’d never felt it do before.
Whoa.
Even from a distance, I could tell he was gorgeous; the way his dark brown hair scattered messily over his head, but in an intentionally-done-perfect kind of way. And his bright green eyes reminded me of clovers and flourishing springtime leaves. He wore a pair of dark blue jeans and a black hoodie. I’d guess him to be tall, but I couldn’t say for sure unless I got closer to him. He had to be new here because, if I’d seen him before, I probably would have remembered. No. Scratch that. I
definitely
would have remembered him.

He didn’t seem to notice me at all, though. Which was kind of a good thing, I guess, since I was just standing there, staring at him idiotically as he made his way across the sidewalk and strolled past me.

The prickle showed up again, this time filling me with a very overpowering urge to run after him. And I had to admit, I probably would have too if the tardy bell hadn’t rang and knocked me out of my prickle-induced-gorgeous-guy trance.

I flinched and shook my head. What was I doing, standing out in the freezing cold, gawking at some random guy, when what I needed to be doing was getting my butt to class?

I rushed toward the entrance of the school, barely catching up with the new guy as he swung the door open. He stepped to the side and held it open for me, very gentleman-like. I bit my bottom lip nervously as I walked by him. I swear my heart was hammering so loudly in my chest that he had to be able to hear it.

Okay, so I don’t know why I did the thing that I did next—it was very unlike me. I mean, I usually keep my head down and my eyes glued to the floor during school hours. But when I suddenly felt compelled to look up at him, I actually did. And boy was I in for a real shock. And I’m not talking about the emotional kind of shock. I’m talking about a literal shock; a blaze of electricity that fired through my body like I’d stuck my finger in an electrical socket. I froze, my eyes widening. What the heck? Was I going insane? I had to be going insane. First the prickle and now this—what was wrong with me? If I wasn’t careful I was going to end up in a mental institution.

I felt the zap again and let out a gasp. The feeling momentarily took me away until I realized I was standing in the middle of the doorway, staring at the new guy with my mouth hanging open.  I’d have been completely mortified too, except to my astonishment—and my relief—his bright green eyes had widened and were locked on mine, and it almost looked like he could feel the electricity too.

My pulse raced as sparks of static nipped at my skin. The more we stared at each other, the more the electricity ignited, and I could almost feel my skin melting. So many different feelings were pouring through me simultaneously, confusion…desire…intensity, I couldn’t think straight. I felt an invisible tug, drawing me to him, and before I even knew what I was doing, I took a step toward him.

Like a light switch, his expression slipped down into a glower. “Do you mind,” he said, sidestepping around me and letting the heavy metal door slam painfully into my elbow.

“Ow,” I said, rubbing my arm. “What the heck?”

He shot me a glare and a different kind of intensity burned in those beautiful green eyes of his. Intense hatred. My mouth dropped open as I watched him turn his back on me and walk down the hall
without another glance back.