Page 5 of The Light Within

… only to break it a few years later.

I’d been stupid when it came to matters of the heart. I listened to it more often than my head when it came to Callum, right until the point where I saw him kissing Silvi Miller behind the school gym. She was popular and cute with her button nose and shiny blonde hair. She was everything I wasn’t.

Silvi knew she was popular and how to use that popularity to her advantage, especially throughout high school. She had a talent for manipulating almost everyone into wanting to please her. A fluttered eyelid or a flashed smile worked wonders for her getting her way. She always had a boyfriend, sometimes multiple in a month, because it seemed she grew bored quickly and would move on to the next.

Throughout our lives, watching Silvi's polished perfection growing up, I never wanted anything she’d had—she was spoiled and sought attention, whereas I was happy to reside in the shadows. I was content with the life my momma and I had.

There was nothing materialistic about the way we lived. We didn’t need manicures, new shoes, or even designer handbags to prove a point.

It hadn’t been until I’d seen Silvi with Callum that it hit home. She had theonething I wanted. It was the reality check I needed, the brutal reminder to protect my heart because no one else would.

My mother confirmed my fears when I’d gotten home from school, still crying about my first, and what I promised myself would be my last, heartbreak. She told me there was no man on God’s green earth who was worth those tears and none who would appreciate how special I was.

Men were scum, treacherous, and vile.

Callum tried to talk to me after that day. I ignored him when he’d offered to be my partner in science class, and he hadn’t taken the hint by my silence that I wasn’t interested in having anything to do with him. Instead, he occupied the second stool at the bench. We worked silently, shoulder to shoulder, for the rest of the semester.

Only on the last day before Christmas break did he try to speak to me again. He asked me what I had planned for the holidays. I had spared him a brief glance before returning to cleaning our workstation.

Our Christmas plans—my mother’s and mine—were always the same. Carols on our old television, which flickered between color and black and white, and decorated the poor excuse for a tree she’d found at the thrift shop a few years before.

We treasured that tree with its blinking lights. It was the ugliest tree you’d ever see, but it was all ours.

We wouldn’t go anywhere over the holidays—never did. Holidays cost money, something we never had in abundance.

Mom always did her best to create mystical worlds we could travel to without leaving the property during school breaks. But, by the time I had turned thirteen, I was embarrassed about these adventures and often asked when we could go on a real vacation.

I hurt my mother’s feelings when I asked those questions. Selfish as a teenager, I didn’t care or know any better. I was self-absorbed and bratty. At least that was something I’d had in common with other kids my age.

* * *

“Every year, we go to my grandma’s. My mum’s mum.” Volunteering the story, Callum continued to chat away as if I’d asked him about his plans. “Two weeks of eating sauerkraut and bratwurst. It is the worst. Let me tell you.”

As I listened to his voice, I realized it was deeper than it had been when he’d asked to partner up.

I let my hair fall in front of my face, screening him out as I tried to steal glances at him. “Why are you talking to me?” My voice sounded foreign, even to me, a feeble squeak of a sound as I asked him. If he was surprised I’d spoken, he didn’t show it.

He simply shrugged. Without a word, he twisted in his seat, retrieving what I discovered to be a Christmas card. He slid it across the bench into my unobstructed view. I didn’t dare pick it up until the end of class when everyone had left.

On the envelope in a neat print was my name. The A curved slightly on the downward stroke. I liked how he wrote my A.

* * *

The town center hadn’t changed much since the last time I’d been here. However, the curious looks I received differed from the stares I’d received as a child. I still remember the people who would look at me that way, but I was an unknown entity—a stranger to them. I was cloaked by the mystery of a nameless intruder, a mystery I hoped would last me longer than the first visit to get supplies.

Pulling my little car into the first vacant spot in the parking lot, I drew in a deep breath and held it until the count of ten before exhaling while absently tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I had a list of items I needed and clung to that list like it was my only lifeline to making it through this trip unscathed.

Releasing the latch of the car door, I pushed it open, focusing my energy on making it to the shopping carts, then inside the store. If I could make it through the aisles without a glimmer of recognition, I had half a chance of making it back to the house without being subjected to any storytelling whispers or accusing glares.

* * *

Malicious words reached my ears after I had made it through the first aisle. I tried to ignore the blather of accusations, cackling, and spiteful gossip as I pushed my still-empty cart.

“Good riddance, I say. She did this town a favor,” one voice pitched as the other murmured in agreement.

“She always had a few sheep loose in the top paddock, that one. The murderousjezebel,” another voice piped in.

Slowly, I crawled my cart toward their voices, all but ready to confront the slanderous hags who were undoubtedly gossiping about my mother.