11 August 2012

I was dreaming. I wished I wasn’t, but there was a sort of blurry tinge to

the edge of my vision that told me otherwise. I dreamt I was in a library,

thousands of books covering every available surface. I wandered for a

while, stopping and looking at some, picking a few up and reading their

covers, until one caught my eye on the top shelf. I walked over and tried

to grab it, but my arms wouldn’t reach. I stretched them out as far as

they would go but still the book escaped my grasp. I looked around

frantically, my eyes praying for some sort of chair or table on which I

could stand, but they found nothing. I looked up to the book one last time

and tried desperately to pull it down from the shelves. Just as my middle

finger brushed it’s red velvet spine,

I woke up.

I lay in bed, tears streaming down my cheeks, covered in sweat. I sat up and furiously battered them away, knowing it was foolish to cry. I never cried, and it shocked me to feel the warm tears trickle from the corners of my soft brown eyes and tasted the salty water on my lips. I got up to have a shower, knowing it was pointless trying to get back to sleep. Once succumbed into the boiling water I scrubbed my face clear of the evidence and then brushed my teeth free of the dreadful taste. I didn’t like crying, I made me feel weak. But even though I knew I was tougher then the average teenage girl, there were things I would do anything for. I though back to the book on the shelf, so close yet so far, it’s stories calling to me through its red cover. I wanted it, so badly it almost hurt. Not the book, but the reaching, the hardship, the normality. But I knew that no matter how high the book was on the shelf, I would have no trouble getting it down. I wasn’t normal. I turned the hot water off and darted back to my cluttered room just in time to hear the Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep of my alarm clock. I turned it off quickly and got dressed into a faded blue shirt and denim jeans. My bare feet padded silently down the hall and into the kitchen where I found my father sitting on a stool reading the newspaper. "Hey" I said as I rummaged around for a bowl. "Morning" he said without looking up. An awkward silence filled the room, making me shift uncomfortably as I poured the milk into my cereal. When I couldn't bare it any longer I asked, "Busy week?"

"Very" my dad replied casually. "Your Mum and I have been working round the clock keeping every one safe. Speaking of protecting, how's Finn?" I sighed. I had never wanted to be a Protector and it was just my luck that I got paired with a cocky football player. "He's fine" I replied, "Nearly cut himself with the razor yesterday morning but he got a 'sudden cramp' in his hand and had to stop."

"That's my girl" My Dad said with a smile. "Now, I have to go. I just stopped in to make sure everything was alright. Mum sends her love. We'll drop in when we can, until then take care of yourself. And Finn. Ok?"

"Ok" I answered, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice. "Alright Honey," he said, getting up from his stool and placing his now folded newspaper on the bench. "Call us if you need anything." I nodded as he left the kitchen, leaving me alone in the quite house. I sighed again. It wasn’t the first time. I quickly chugged down my cereal and packed myself a muesli bar and an apple for lunch. I grabbed my bag and headed out to my car. Once driving, my mind wandered back to the library and the red covered book. It had seemed so real. I wanted it to be real. “Stop it Blair,” I told myself, “This is it. Protect him, or die. Your choice.” It was an easy choice, but one I wished I didn’t have to make. As I turned off the highway I turned on the radio to try and fill the silence, to clear my head. I drove through the autumn trees that were just starting to lose their leaves, falling to the ground in slow spirals, covering the road in an array of colours from the richest reds to the palest yellows and everything in between. I turned into another street and continued my way to school. When I pulled into the car park I saw students milling around, talking to each other, reading, doing last minute study, but i ignored all this as my eyes searched the crowd for that one familiar face. “Finn Halle. Where are you?” I muttered to myself as I found a park. I got out of my car warily, remembering that it was still a month till I was meant to get my license, but I didn’t think anyone noticed me as I grabbed my bag and headed for an oak tree in the middle of the yard. I sat with my back against its rough truck and took out my homework. I had already finished it, but I pretended to work on it as my eyes expertly scanned the crowd. Just as I was starting to get worried the loud voice of Blake Corzett, the captain of the football team, drifted over to where I sat, half in the shade, my eyes under the protection of the oak’s leaves while my legs were warmed by the sun. I turned in the direction of the laughter that followed and my eyes instantly found the dark haired boy, school bag hanging from one shoulder, laughing at Blake’s joke. He turned his head slightly, almost like he knew I was watching him, and I looked down at my page and let my long brown hair fall over my face. He looked my way but didn't spare any time for my small figure, proped up against the old tree doing homework. Blake started saying something, and all the other guys from the team started laughing again and walked off in the direction of their first class, probably to go make fun of another helpless victim. "I've got my eye on you" I muttered darkly, but I knew I couldn't do anything to help unless it would result in danger for Finn, and therefore myself. I regretfully stood from my place by the tree and put my books back in my bag just in time for the school's mechanic bell to sound throughout the grounds. Every class I had with Finn. It was easier that way and I always took my seat as far away from Finn as I could as it was against the rules to talk to him, and, to be honest, I didn't want to either. But as I entered English the only seats left were one right up the front and two a few rows behind. Right behind Finn. I thought about it. The only people who sat at the front where either really smart people or people that did all their homework and wanted suck it up from the teachers. All the same, you were always asked the questions and I didn't want the attention. But still, so close to Finn... But Blake sat just in front of him so he would be mostly looking forwards to talk with him, or looking down at his work. "Right," I thought to myself, "behind Finn it is. " I walked over and sat at the desk directly behind him so if he did turn around he would see the people next to me first. I plumped my bag on the floor beside my chair and acted like everyone else in the class, bored, wishing they could be anywhere but here. Mrs Watkins came in then, arms laden with heavy books, and proceeded to start the lesson. Once she had set our task and the babble of voices had reduced to a low hum she seated herself behind her redwood desk and began marking things from previous lessons. After ten minutes of the lesson and my worry had died down and I began to think things were going ok, I heard a dull - snap - from the desk in front. I froze, feeling for pain but felt nothing. Instead I heard a low groan and saw the head in front of me turn to it's right and ask the person beside me for a sharpener. My body slowly clicked into back into action. "It's fine Blair," I told myself crossly. "He just broke the lead of his pencil. What did you think he would do? Cut himself on it and bleed to death?" Angrily I continued writing, jotting down words furiously, writing like I knew all the answers off by heart. Which I did. Beside me I heard a soft "no sorry" from Clair; a nice, gentle girl that always deserved more than she got. It took me a few seconds to realize she was answering Finn's question and that, because of her answer, meant he would turn to me next. But the rule. I couldn't talk to him. "Uhhh... Excuse me..." Finn asked, surprised when he didn't know who I was. I pretended I didn't hear him, but he wouldn't give up. "Hey," he said tapping on my desk. I looked up, and for the first time looked straight into his deep, chocolaty brown eyes. I just sat there looking at him, and he back, until he remembered what he had wanted a moment ago. "Do you have a sharpener I could borrow?" I wouldn't say anything, I couldn't say anything. I nodded. I reached down and took my pencil case from my bag and slowly unzipped it, still in shock. I fished around until I found my sharpener and handed it to him. He turned around straight away and my anger at him flared once more. "What, too cool to thank me?" I thought, as frustrated at myself as I was of him. I heard a - click - click - and one again he was staring at me, this time holding my sharpener in the palm of his outstretched hand. "Thanks" he said as I took it. I froze again. Had he read my mind? I dismissed the thought. He was just being nice. "No problem" I said with a smile. He smiled back and once again turned to face the front leaving me reeling in horror and what I had just done. Talked to him. Fear gnawed at my stomach like it was trying to find a way out. I felt sick; was I dying? I didn't think so. Besides the fear, I felt fine. The rest of the lesson passed uneventfully and by the time the bell rung I had gotten over my fear of dying. Whatever the reason for the rule, it wasn't for the protecter's safety, my safety. I sat at an aboundoned picnic table, soaking up the last rays of sunlight before it dropped behind the line of trees that surrounded the left side of the school. I couldn't stop thinking about Finn and how he had tricked me into talking to him. Then it hit me. My dream came back to me in a flurry of colors and movement, all rushing to mind at once and making it hard to exactly remember what happened. I couldn't deny i

Azmeril| Protector | - Part 1 • Opuss № I