fragile [PREVIEW ONLY]

Chapter 9

By Saturday, I was itching to get out of the house and go somewhere besides school. I thought about getting a part-time job, something brainless to keep me occupied and give me some money, but I didn't want anything to interfere with my schoolwork. I mean, I get good grades already - I know that I'm decently smart - but, while my school tries to accommodate for me, they don't always succeed. My teachers are supposed to face front when teaching, allowing me to read their lips, but they don't always remember to do so. Not that I blame them, of course, but what good is it to get the extra notes when the notes don't say, "Remember, this is going to be on the test."

Plus, I need my free time for my sanity. I spend five days a week surrounded by idiots at school, then when I get home I'm forced to deal with my mom. I love my mom, but it's a big ball of stress that I don't want to make any bigger. She decided to ramp up the guilt-factor too in the last few days, since I got that stupid concussion, and instead of talking about cochlear implants once in a blue moon, she's been talking about them every damn day.

I left the house before my mom woke up, slipping a note under Evan's door to let him know where I was going, and headed to my favorite park. We lived in a wealthy area of San Francisco, just on the outskirts of the neighborhood, so it didn't take me long to arrive at Lake Merced Park.

Weekend walks through the park always made everything better. It was so peaceful and beautiful, wandering through trails, allowing my brain to relax so I could just exist. I spend all of my time on alert - watching, paying attention to everything - so it was nice to switch off. My mom hated it, told me it was dangerous to walk around by myself in a park where I couldn't hear anything, but after I saved up to buy myself a tiny stun gun and a rape whistle, she stopped fighting me on it.

Today, my stun gun remained tucked inside my crossbody bag as I walked the familiar paths through the park, allowing myself to soak up the sunshine and the greenery surrounding me. Sometimes, living in a city means you forget what it's like to get lost away from cars and technology, but I loved walking by the lake where I could pretend I was somewhere else. In reality, I've only been outside of San Francisco a few times in my life.

I've been to Denver three times as a kid, back when my dad used to take us to visit his parents, but those visits stopped when my parents started fighting. Other than that, we did a family vacation once when I was six to Lake Tahoe to see the snow, but my mom basically had a nervous breakdown. She thought I was going to get lost or stolen or something - I don't really know, actually. All I know is my dad didn't want to put up with it again, so we haven't left the Bay Area since then.

Soon I crossed a bridge over the southern tip of the lake, heading up the road toward another jumble of trails sandwiched between the lake and the beach, before heading toward my favorite spot in the park.

Every weekend, I always ended up at the Observation Deck overlooking the ocean, staring out at the Pacific and watching the ant-like people on the beach below. I liked to take ten minutes to myself, even when surrounded by people, to stare at the water. The size and power of the ocean always left me in awe. I wanted to be like the ocean. Unafraid. Unbroken. Uncontrolled by mankind.

I got excited just thinking about, daydreams flitting through my head of all the things I want to do with my life. Moving to the East Coast. Working at an art gallery. Spending a life chasing beauty and capturing it with my camera. I didn't want to possess it, like taking a souvenir for my collections, but I wanted to record it. I wanted to remember it - wild and untamed - for my own selfish reasons. No one could hear me speak, so I wanted my photos to do it for me. To scream at the world that I exist, that I'm watching, that I have things to say.

Sighing, I rested my forearms on the wooden railing at the edge of the Observation Deck. It wasn't as busy as some days, despite the perfect weather, and I loved the solitude. A gust of wind whipped around my face, tugging strands of blonde hair free from the confines of the braid running down the back of my head, and I smiled into it.

My green eyes wandered, turning away from the ocean and the people below, and I took a mental inventory of the Observation Deck. Two small children played in the middle, a woman in black yoga pants glancing up from her iPhone to check on them every few seconds, and a couple were heading back for the trails. A few other people leaned against the railing with me, including an older man who smiled at me when our eyes met, and a young man whose face I couldn't see.

Until he moved, that is, his warm brown eyes turning to connect with mine, and I smiled unconsciously at the realization.

It's Theo.