Beauty, @((Y^!@ Allyvia [books to read in a lifetime .TXT] 📗

The excitement was swallowed by confusion. Why would I be angry? Glancing over at him, I watched as he glanced at his wrist, like he was looking at a watch. It was his tell.

Shrugging and shaking his head, he said, "Nope. None that I know of."

Hurt, I seemed to shrink like a carton character. My day had been crap. Casey had kicked my butt during practice; Avery surprised me with a very unwelcome visit; and now, my oh-so-perfect boyfriend was lying to me. What next?

I dreamed of my mother that night. I had dreamed of her occassionally, even before Avery Silver came back to Wickerville. But this one was different. In this one, I drown.

The rolling waves licked at my ankles, in fondness like a puppy lapping at your fingers. The sand that squished between my toes was soft, fine as it trickled through my fingers. I tilted my head back, basking in the lowering sunlight as dawn arrived. The sky was streaked with pinks and oranges, reminding me of fire. So did the black shadow that looked like smoke.

"Vienna," the smoke called, its voice almost heavenly. No, her voice. I glanced over my shoulder, leaning back on the palms of my hands, and felt my face blanch. I stumbled from my spot on the sandy ground, my knees weak and shaking.

"Mom?"

Her eyes were black, empty abysses that held nothing of her former life. Her blonde hair was stringy, falling out of its loose ponytail, and weakly held at the nape of her neck. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, and the webs of blue veins traveled up her arm like a map.

Memories attacked me like a swift punch in the gut:

I was five. She was brushing my hair and singing softly to herself. I faintly remembered our tiny apartment, which had one bedroom and a bathroom the size of my closet.

She'd hug me and kiss me and and call me her 'banana fishin' pole'.

She'd make me macaroni and cheese, and watch the silly cartoons I loved.

She loved me. And then, she left. No, she was missing. That's what Grandmother had said. I wanted to know how she got lost driving to my grandmother's house from her job at Dottie's Diner, a route she knew by heart.

"You're so pretty," she marveled, so close a chill ran down my spine when she breathed on me. She didn't blink, and I watched as black liquid dripped from her nose. The metalic scent of blood and something else made my stomach churn. "You look just like me."

I felt the sand shift underneath me, and, startled, I looked down. My feet, bare and dirty, began sinking into the sand. Drip, drip, drip went that blood that trickled down her face and onto the sand.

"Vienna Nicole, you and I can't be seperated now," she said quietly, her ice cold fingers stroking my cheek. I stumbled, trying to escape from her grip, but the heavy sand that was swallowing me was holding me in place.

"D-Don't touch me," I whimpered, although the words did nothing but bounce off of her. The sand was swallowing me faster; my legs were sinking faster and faster, the sand reaching my hips. I had to look up to see her now. Feeling so small, I cowered backwards, my back hitting the sand floor with a thud.

"You're dead. Y-You're dead. You've been dead for thirteen years," I cried, watching as that black liquid drip-drip-dripped right next to me. She didn't say anything, only watched as the sand swallowed me whole. It climbed up my body like ivy, until I was almost neck deep. My fingers were barely peeking out from the sand as I tried to crawl back to the surface. Suddenly, it was covering my neck. My chin. My mouth.

A muffled scream came from somewhere deep inside, but it didn't matter. I swallowed sand, filling my lungs and throat. My nose. The last thing I saw was my mother, drip-drip-dripping onto the white sand.

~~~

"Slut muffin, you need to get some new concealer. I can see the Pradas hanging under your eyes from halfway across the room," True sighed, leaning against the locker next to mine. I exhaled loudly and struggled to fit my bag into the tiny space that was my cursed locker.

I wasn't in the mood to banter with True; I was still shaken from my dream.

"Right, I'll remember that next time I get ready for one of our hot dates," I muttered, disgruntled and frustrated. True, hearing my comment, grabbed hold of my arm, pulling me into an awkward hug. This kid looks like a heroine addict. She's so lucky I love her. Hearing his thoughts, I managed to barely withhold a snort.

"Vienna, I love you, you know that right," he muttered. I rolled my eyes and let a small smile quirk onto my lips. "But, seriously, we need to get some 'Energy Blend' into you before you become a part of the Walking Dead."

"Yes, Dad," I sighed monotonously, giving him a half-hearted, playful glare. He squeezed my wrists and released me, a small, pity-laced smile that made my mouth taste sour. I hated that True pitied me. It wasn't even my ego this time. True was the gay kid, the one everyone made fun of. If he thought my insomniac issues were bigger than Gage Ferris shoving him in the janitor's closet and assaulting him with a stolen makeup kit, I knew I was just shrugging all my problems off.

"Now, as the bestest friend,-" he began, only to look up. Watching his jaw slack, and the sudden silence that rippled through the halls, I lifted my head towards the front doors. The halls parted like the Red Sea, and a hush fell like snow. Everyone was looking at them.

"Who's the hottie," True murmured, his eyes still glued to them. The breath that escaped my lips rattled my chest.

"Avery Silver," I managed. The moment his name rolled off my tongue, Avery's eyes met mine, dark blue like ink and black like ebony, eyes that made goose bumps crawl on my skin. A smirk tugged at his pink lips, filling the apple of his cheeks. Distressed jeans hung from his lean muscular hips, and a black fitted tee stretched across his broad shoulders and back. The heavy thud of his boots against the linoleum were the only things reminding me this was reality.

"No. I mean the other one," True whispered, making me blink. Only then did I realize Avery wasn't alone.

The two flanked his sides, and together they all looked like they stepped right out of a magazine. The girl was tall, with that desired hourglass firgure and captivating electric blue eyes. Her honey blond  brows were arched in superiority when she caught me looking. A snotty scowl was placed on her bubblegum pink, glossed lips.

They boy was her polar opposite. He had a broad chest, and a large frame compared to her. His arms were muscular, sprinkled with dark hairs. His chin was lifted, like he knew he was too good to be in Wickerville, Louisiana of all places, and his brown eyes scanned everyone's face. A dopey smile tugged at his lips when he looked at me, almost like he knew me.

It didn't take long for everyone to tear their eyes away. What felt like an eternity of staring was only four or five seconds in reality. I kept staring, though.

His body, the way he floated through the halls with his little friends, was magnetizing. His stare felt hot and cold, a shock that rippled down my body. They kept moving through the halls fluidly, like they hadn't noticed the sudden halt in space and time.

 This is reality, I reminded myself. Avery was back. And, he had brought friends.

~~~

The library fourth block was usually destitute, something I was so grateful for. Most of the other kids who had free period fourth hour would go off school grounds and get a burger at Natty's, the only drive-thru within a twenty mile radius of Wickerville. So, I would sit in the musty old library reading the 'banned books', the ones our church forbid their 'abundantly Christ-devoted youth of this era' to so much as glance at. The only sounds I heard were Mrs. Greer, the librarian, reshelving books and the muffled ticking of the clock that hung from the brick wall.

The old, rickety oak chair I sat in was uncomfortable; the books smelled musty and old and forgotten; the lights flickered when the door opened. I turned, only to see the one person I had been trying to avoid all day. Avery, catching my eye, shot me an amused smilie as he came just a bit closer. Cursing myself, I hurriedly gathered my books, stray papers falling on the ground.

"Shit," I muttered, as I dropped my book on the ground with a thud. Thinking he would be standing there, I looked over my shoulder, but to no avail. Confused, I turned, craning my neck to see if maybe he was hiding behind a book shelf or shielding his face with a book. The sound of a throat clearing itself made me freeze in the process.

"Drop something," he asked teasingly, his deep voice almost velvety. In his hand, which was outstretched towards me, was my book, 'Interview With the Vampire'. I snatched it from him quickly, avoiding his eye contact and feeling my cheeks heat up.

"I-I was just leaving," I muttered, trying to shoulder past him only to have him grab onto my shoulder. His grip was firm, and surfaced the memory of our first kiss. We had been talking to each other, using our thoughts, for hours that day. Sitting up in the giant oak tree in his backyard, he kissed me right smack on the lips, his pink petaled mouth tasting like lemonade. I think he felt my nostalgia, because an impish smile tugged at his lips as he lead me back to my chair and pulled out my seat. Almost obediently, I sat, watching him as he pulled out the seat across fom me and plopped into it. He settled, a black t-shirted bird in his nest, and laid his hands on the tabletop, quirking a dark brow at me.

"Anna... do you want to forget me," he asked abruptly, making me even more confused. I watched in amazement as he opened a book, flipping the pages nonchalantly, without even touching it. Just by pointing at it and flicking his wrist, the pages turned, bending against their will. It hovered just above the table, and stupidly, I waved my hand underneath it, checking for some sort of wire. There was none.

"H-How're you doing that," I whispered, my mouth frozen in a small O, the shock written clearly on my face. He chuckled, running his fingers through his hair and letting the book fall back onto the table.

"Magic."

I laughed, crazy kind of chuckle that bubbled up my throat, and stared at him quizzically. I understood why he left now-- he was mentally deranged. Not only was he making me crazy, he was trying to shove the idea of magic  down my throat. How delightlful.

"Right," I drawled, grabbing hold of my stuff and pressing it against my chest as I shot out of my chair. I hadn't even taken a step when