Witness, Jamie Wilkinson [best classic romance novels txt] 📗

and binder, and I shut my locker.

I’m in class but I’m somewhere else altogether. My mind wanders continuously and I know that I have no control over it.
I watch intently as lines of chalk, form letter, form words, on the blackboard. They form words without me reading them, and I am intently focused on nothing in particular.
My pencil glides along paper, glides in circles, swirls and shapes and I watch the convoluted performance of lead on loose-leaf.
I’m so focused on nothing that I fail to notice Mr. Bennett’s first attempt at reaching me. But the second time he manages to break through my fixation, “Ms. Hurst, could you please answer question six for us?”
For a second panic, then I observe the question. It takes me twenty seconds to answer, but I ultimately get the right answer.
“Very good,” states Mr. Bennett, “But next time I’d like for you to be paying a little more attention to the lesson.”
I nod and my eyes immediately return to the cartoon ballet taking place on my sheet.

It is lunch and I return to my locker. I feel the same sinking feeling in my stomach and I decide that I want to fill it. My eyes drift to my book bag and I remember the granola bar I managed to pack during my escape from the house. I pick it out and open it then proceed to consume it whole.
Before I know it I feel familiar presences standing behind me and turn to greet them.
“Hi guys.” I welcome them, curving my lips into a smile but not being able to rid of what I know is the same sadness in my eyes.
Without hesitation Dakota replies with a hardy, “Hi,” But it’s Aubrey who squints at me and asks, “Are you okay Paige?”
My whole being becomes stiff, the question awakes the malaise in my stomach and I have to lift my shoulders to relieve the tension in my back, “I think so, but... I don’t know really,” I look back and forth and my companions look at me with some anxiety, “I’m just having an off day. Yes, I think that’s it.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that but I’m glad it’s nothing serious. I’ve been thinking that maybe something awful had happened.” Aubrey raises her eyebrows with a small smile, “Go to sleep early tonight, every time I’m feeling down I try to get some extra rest and I’ll feel exceptional the next day.”
Aubrey doesn’t quite understand.
“I find the best thing for it is to talk about whatever’s bothering you.” Adds Dakota.
Nice try, but I don’t think Dakota quite understands either. How can I possibly tell them what’s wrong? How could two individuals that are in an identical situation to my own be able to help me? They can’t possibly help me confront my issues when they have yet to realize their own.
Why can’t they see, why can’t anyone see? How are they able to enjoy a life with no hope?
“Thanks, but there isn’t anything wrong. I’m just tired maybe, I think that’s it. I appreciate the concern though.” I smile once again as my stomach sinks even further down into my chest cavity.
There is a short silence before Dakota suggests we get some pizza from the cafeteria; I take up her offer.

They’re serving Hawaiian pizza on this Thursday afternoon, and though the enormous dining halls with its rich red walls bears the constant reminder of a high class standard of living I manage to gain some pleasure in eating something that isn’t recommended by my mother’s health advisor.
After feeding the three of us make our way over to the library, a stunning space where every wall is lined with book after book, and endless amounts of knowledge and wisdom line it’s shelves.
With our textbooks in hand, we all sit down and study. Well, maybe not me.
I can see the words and diagrams but nothing seems to register, the calmness in the library is much too reminiscent of that in my room; it’s thick and heavy and it does not allow me to concentrate.
My mind and being try to fight off the silence that is weighing so heavily on my chest but I’m once again surrounded by this all powerful force.
How can I study when I’m fighting a battle, and how can I manage to go on with my life when I’m constantly fighting this battle?
My mind wanders, but my eyes are fixated to my textbook. To the untrained eye I am in fact studying.
Aubrey and Dakota partake in petty chatter about physics, and I fail to be able to listen. Am I worried about the science test? Of course not, I’ve heard it all before, maybe not directly through my science teacher, but I’ve heard it all.
Some people tell me I have an amazing memory, and I tend to believe them. My mind takes in everything and refuses to let go. This is why I do well in school.
My escapist mindset is quite demanding, and when I’m not immersed in this world in which I don’t belong, I’m immersing myself in some other world. Maybe it’s the world of literature or the world of film, and when I’m in these fantastic other worlds I take in everything with great appreciation; this is why I know as much as I do. Of course I know everything about energy, work and power, I’ve read about it, I’ve seen it on the television.
By this time the bell rings. It is one o’clock.
“I’m so nervous; I can’t help but feel that I forgot to study something...” Aubrey cringes.
“It’s fine, everyone feels that way before an exam.” I assure her, though my thoughts conflict with my statement.
“Paige is completely right. I’m sure you’ll do fine.” Dakota adds.

The silence in the room is unbearable, but I understand that my grades are largely based on exams and I systematically answer each question from last to first. Tackle the hardest problem then work my way down to the easy questions.
I finish my exam before the rest of the class, and after I hand in my test I take my time observing my peers. This distracts me from the silence. I monitor their expressions and by that try to determine what question they’re answering and I make a game out of it even though it’s almost impossible to tell.
One by one the rest of the class finishes their exams and I get the familiar sinking feeling, knowing now that I have to return home.

-

The bus ride home is long, but not long enough.
I can see my house looming down the street as the bus approaches my stop and I almost forget to stand up and get off. Once outside the snow begins to fall harder and I clutch my book bag to my chest. The wind picks up and my limbs go ridged, and I know I have to go inside.
The fresh snow crunches under my feet and as I reach the grand double doors and before I can fumble for my keys they swing open.
“Paige, come in, come in, you’ll catch cold if you stand out here much longer.” My mother takes me by the arm and pulls me inside.
I stand behind her as she closes the doors and speculate as to why she had been waiting at the door for me. She turns to me and stares. I stare back. She’s wearing a knee-length red dress and black stilettos; I know there must be an occasion for this.
“Well don’t look at me like that, you have to get ready. I already told you we would be having guests over tonight, some of your father’s associates, and that you are not to hide in your room, not this time, no. I want you to be able to be involved in your father’s work, so that one day if the opportunity arises you can carry on with his work.” I recoil slightly at the thought of this. “Oh it’s just a suggestion; don’t look at me like that. Now go get changed, they will be arriving within the hour!” Her voice is not angry but anxious; I know how important making a good impression on others in to her.
I cock my head to the side. Was that really tonight? It seemed as if it had already gone by, this rendezvous, a distant memory.
“Are you waiting for something?” She asks.
“No... But what am I to wear?”
“Something appropriate to the occasion please.”

I’m in my room and I’m biding my time. I’m wearing a black dress and lying back on my bed.
I know I only have about fifteen minutes before our guests arrive and I can hear my mother calling for me to hurry, but I continue to lie on my bed. Painted on my ceiling are constellations and a deep blue sky, they seem so far away from me. Heavy snow flakes knock-knock-knock against my window and as my mind continues to drift, my eyelids begin to close.
I’m somewhere else, somewhere wonderful. Feathery clouds of white and grey, and bright beaming stars surround me; I’m floating though lovely nothingness and in the distance I see a pair of dark eyes. They radiate warmth and I’m immediately drawn and devoted to them. I feel as if they can see my insides, into my soul, as if they understand my all my thoughts and apprehensions.
I begin to make my way towards them, the fascinating eyes. They’re staring deeply, very deeply into my eyes and they see everything that lies beneath them and I stare back with a burning enthusiasm, wanting to know everything that lies beneath theirs.
Then there are icy hands, pushing me backwards. My eyes flutter open. The hands belong to my mother.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She asks.
“Sorry, I’m just tired.”
“Come help me get the table set.”
My mother and I set the table with cloth napkins and silverware. The candles that line the lengthy dining table accompany the light of the chandelier, and things like steaks and salmons and assorted vegetables are placed precisely along the center of the table.
By the looks of it we’re to be having four visitors, excluding my parents and myself.
My mother stands before the dining table, inspecting our work. Before she can settle on whether or not it is satisfactory the doorbell rings, and she sprints towards the entrance to greet our company.
“Come Paige, come.”
I follow her hesitantly with a bit of unease.
Before my mother has a chance to open the door my father lets himself, as well as four other men in suits, into the house.
“Welcome, welcome!” Chirps my mother, “I’m Cheryl, Howard’s wife, and this is our daughter Paige; it’s such a pleasure to meet you.”
“Cheryl, Paige, these are some of my co-workers: Mr. Reed, Mr. McLeod, Mr. Bryant and Mr. Redmond.” Announced my father, grinning, “Mr. Bryant and Mr. Reed own two of our sister corporations. Mr. Redmond and Mr. McLeod are my second and third in command at Lumen Electric Works.”
My father owns a flourishing electronics company that was passed down to him by my grandfather. The industry