The boy with the olive skin


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2. Chapter 1 : Emma

Fifth-teen years-old: (Four years later:)

‘The years passed, I have grown up without a Father but I am happy with just my Mother to guide me. She works most days of the weeks trying to pay for school fees and to put food on the table, I try to help out whenever I can. We had to move from our home town a few months after the car crash that killed my Father. Mother couldn’t stand to be in the house that had so many memories of him, so we packed up and moved to somewhere new to somewhere we were never heard of. Our new house is just as big as our old house, it has a pool and is two stores high. After the car crash I now don’t like thunder or loud noises, so I picked the room on the top floor as my bedroom. The windows over look a street of houses that look older than my Mother. Although my Mother couldn’t stand to stay in our old house, she couldn’t change her last name back to “Clement”. Over the last four years I have met a new friend, as well as got a job in a post-office and started high school.’

I stop writing as I know I am about to cry, my throat tightens as my eyes wonder over the paper again to check for any spelling mistakes. This is my first attempt to try to write what happened down on paper, as I reread it for the second time. When I am done I stand our of my chair and walk over to my body length mirror on the wall next to the door, as I step into the reflective surface I can see that my long dark hair is hanging lose around the lower part of my back. Reaching for my hair and scooping it up into a high pony tail I it up with the purple hair band that is around my wrist, when I am done I look back into the reflective surface to see my green eyes staring back at me. My face is slim, my nose is small, my eyes are round and bright green, my long dark hair ties back, my tanned skin seems to looks even more tanned in my grey shirt and pants. My lips are full and pink, my skin is flawless from the proper care I gave it when I was little. I hear Mother calling my name for breakfast. Putting my pen down next to my new journal my Mother brought me for Christmas, I get out of my desk chair and move over to my bedroom door. My room is spotless, as I gaze at my room over my shoulder I can see the photo of my Father, Mother and me on my bedside table. Closing the door quickly behind me so I don’t look at it for too long, I pause before I walk towards the top of the stair being careful not to slip down them for the third time this week. Half way down the stairs and I can smell what Mother is cooking in the kitchen, bacon and scrambled eggs. Smiling the best fake smile I can muster I walk into the kitchen and say good morning to Mother. She looks up from the pan on the oven top to look at me, she raises a perfect eyebrow at me as she takes the pan off the oven top and motions for me to come over to her. I walk slowly over to where she is dishing out breakfast between the two of us. When she is finished she puts the pan down, turns off the oven top and turns to look at me.

“Turn around, I’ll fix your hair,” She says undoing my messy pony tail. “Emma when was the last time you brushed your hair?”

I know she’s teasing me but I can’t help but smile at my attempt to do my own hair, I know that she would try to fix my hair. It helps her with coming back down to Earth when I know that she has Father stuck on her mind lately. It’s the anniversary of his death tomorrow and Mother was talking about going to see the crash site, of course I agreed to keep her company.

“I brushed it this morning just before I started to write in the new journal you got me for Christmas,” I say still smiling, then my smile fades. “I started to write about the car crash.”

Mother stops for a moment before reapplying my hair ties to a new neater pony tail she pulls it tight. I turn around to face her, I can see the tears in her eyes as she tries to look away from me, I can tell that she blames herself for what happened all those years ago. Putting my arms around her, I can feel her trembling in my arms as I hold her. After a moment or two, she pulls away and sighs slightly she turns back to where breakfast is ready to eat and hands me a plate of bacon and eggs. As she reaches for her plate I watch her silently, she is still trembling but only slightly and her skin is a little paler than normal.  Turning to the dinning room table I sit on the closet chair to me as Mother walks over to one end of the dinning table and sits down. Her long dark hair is tied back with a rubber band to keep her hair off her face as usual, her bright blue eyes stare down at her bacon and eggs like it has just caught fire or something. Staring and eating bacon is harder than it looks, I chock on a piece of bacon when it gets stuck half way down my throat. Mother looks up from her breakfast to look at me with concern, then looks out the kitchen window as I take a sip of water from my glass.

“So how is Christy?” Mother asks.

My Mother and Christy liked each other, which is to say that my Mother doesn’t like very many people. But she likes Christy and approves of her, our parents are friends and Christy’s Mother and Father give us a discount in the family bakery, when it comes to baking their bakery is the best choice. Mother met Christy and her family just two weeks after we move from our old town, they didn’t many questions about why we moved. Which was a rare thing in people now a days. My Mother said to me once.

“She’s good, I think Adam has a crush on her,” I say not looking up from my plate.

I know this would get Mothers attention, she also met Adam Lee when she met Christy and her family. My Mother knows that Christy and Adam have been childhood friends, she also knows that Adam is in Christy’s Art class at school. I smile slightly to myself when I see my Mothers head snap up from her plate to look at me with wide eyes. Her eyebrows are almost touching her hairline she is that shocked, in her view Christy and Adam would look good as a couple, hell they even act like a couple sometimes.

“Do you know or you think?” She asks, she looks away trying to compose herself. She knows from the looks on my face that I know it. “Well that’s something isn’t it? Does she know yet? She can be very dense at the worst of times,”

I have to think for a minute, trying to imagine Christy’s reaction if I did tell her, I think she would explode with, I don’t know, girlish pride I think. Mother looks at me with the question still stuck on her face as she stares at me. Shaking my head smell of the bacon now unappealing to me, I push my plate to the middle of the table and watch Mother try to eat the rest of her breakfast before giving up. She gets out of her chair and makes her way over to me to take my plate to the sink, my stomach does a back flip among my insides as I watch her grab a glass of water. Something about my Mother tells me that I am starting to run late for school, I don’t know but she always has to know the time, it helps sometimes. Watching her turn around to tell me to hurry for school but I’m up and grabbing my school bag from the side of the table leg where I left it last night. I quickly rush over to Mother and hug her tight as she pecks the top of my head, I smile as I push away from her.

“See you later?” I ask before I run out of the kitchen.

“See you to night!” Mother yells, as I race through the front door that is just down the hallway of the kitchen.

Racing down the driveway I look for Christy or Adam but find that there is no one waiting at my gate. I hurry to unclasp the gate, carefully closing it behind me I look up and down my street to see if any one was up and about. My street is normally busy with people walking pets before work, or school kids walking to school. Today there is barely any one in sight, I can only just see my neighbor walking her dog, disappear around the street corner. Walking quickly, I choose to go the long way to school today, a feeling of happiness fills me as I walk as fast as I can hoping that Christy or even Adam are just a head of me. Houses are on either side of me when I come to an intersection, I wait for the cars to stop and for the green man to go off to say it’s safe to cross. When the green man goes off, my feet instinctively twitch to move towards the curb of the side walk. A hand closes around my left shoulder to pull me back before I get hit by a racing car. The hand on my shoulder tightens as I lean against a wall of protective muscle.

“Some people just have no patience,” A voice says near my ear.

Something in the voice makes me turn around, the hand on my left shoulder belongs to a boy with olive skin who looks just a year older than me. His green eyes are narrow as they look to see if anyone else would dare to race across the street, no one moves. I didn’t even know that this boy was even there until now. The boys hair is dark brown and wavy, his eyes lock with mine for a moment before a feeling of familiarity crosses my mind as if I know him from somewhere I can’t remember. The boys eyes are boring into me as I stare at him trying to see if anything registers in my mine, trying to remember where I have seen this person before. His green go wide as his mouth open slightly to gasp in horror at me.

“I’m sorry,”

As he says the words, he lets go of my shoulder and I can feeling my skin tingling slightly under the fabric. I watch him bolt across the road to put as much distance between us as fast as he can. The realisation hits me like a truck, that was the boy that saved me four years ago. My mind hits a brick wall but I walk slowly towards my school my mind numb. When I do reach my school I am five minutes late.

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