The War Between Us : Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

The cool wind blew back my dark hair as I sat on the porch steps.
My I-pod plugged to my ears, I couldn’t hear anything except white noise.

You know- that noise you get when you turn the radio on between two stations?

Yeah, that noise.
I know. It’s weird to be listening to that instead of listening to Avril or Rihanna, right?
But listening to white noise is what calms me down the most.

Because, you know, you can’t hear anything much. All you hear is this buzzing-like noise filling your ears and then you enter the peace and solitude of it.
It’s really quite soothing, you know?

Especially when you’ve left your old home and your friends and your school in New York City- and you’re preparing for a whole new life out in Atlantic City in Atlantic Country in New Jersey. Yes, that’s right. A whole new life.

Sucks, doesn’t it? I miss them already. My friends, that is. And my house. –Oh, and my school.

But you can’t do anything much about leaving when you have such hard-headed parents like I do.

White noise immobilizing my eardrums, I’m aware that I can’t hear the daily noises of the spring birds fluttering around on the nearby tree, and the noises of a couple of boys in the next yard playing soccer.

I can see them – but not enough to notice their features - but that’s just because the garden fence separating the two houses isn’t that high.

I’m yawning.
See- Atlantic City’s boring me already.
I knew I wouldn’t like it from the start.

As I pulled the ear plugs from my ears, I stand up- ready to explore the neighborhood.
Obviously, it wouldn’t be that great- but I needed to get to know more of the place that I’m going to live in for maybe the rest of my life, needn’t I?

Just as I take my first step across the grass, a football comes soaring towards me – I catch it at the tip of my fingers.
“Hey- could you pass that?”
A small boy leans over the fence and yells at me, his head barely reaching the top of the fence.
Wearing a loose red t-shirt definitely not his, he seems about seven or six years old, his tousled blond hair falling over his eyes.
I smile and I throw it, walking over to him.
He catches it, but not before it toppled to the ground.

Straightening up, he grins; showing large gaps and says, “Are you the newcomer?”
I place my hands on the garden fence and twiddled with some leaves of the plant that was growing on it.
It seemed to be a creeper – a type of jasmine creeper or something.

Whatever, I think.

I reply, flipping back thick black curls hanging loosely around my shoulders. “Sure. That’s me. I’m Cindy. Cindy Varde”

The boy grins and he replies, “Well- my name is Timmy. You’re nice!”

I laugh, my teeth sparkling, as I should be.

At least I don’t have any of them missing – like this kid does. But he seems sweet, in any case.

When I don’t say anything else, the boy, Timmy points over at his house- exactly identical to mine.

Though I don’t consider mine a home yet- I’m sure he does.

“My brother just went inside to get some drinks for us.”

As he dribbles the ball on the grass, he continues. “You want to come over and meet him?”

“Sure- but maybe later.” I say.
“I need to check out this place”.

“It’s called the Chelsea Heights - in Atlantic City.” Timmy says pompously, as if he knew more than I did.

I laugh again, “Yes, I know.”

“I can show you, if you like, Cind-“
A voice from inside the house calls loudly – though the sound waves come out rather muffled – interrupting Timmy. “TIMMY!”

His eyes grew wide – beautiful blue eyes, they were – and he whispers to me a single word.

“Mom!”.

He runs towards the porch of his house and I smile inwardly.
Then he suddenly looks over his shoulder as he hurries and yells, “Bye, Cindy!”

I wave back, my pink lips forming a slight smile as he enters his house, almost slipping on the mat outside.

Grinning- I turn away.

At least I know someone around here.

A breeze sweeps my hair backwards as I walked over to the gate, pulling it open and stepping out side.

Inhaling the deep damp smell of the ocean air and gaited along the pavement – glancing at houses of all sorts; some identical, some different and glimpsing the sun’s rays sometimes, through puffy clouds.

There was at least one advantage- I live practically next to the beach.
Atlantic City isn’t only famous for its boardwalks and casino gambling, you know.
Sandy beaches out here are pretty awesome too.

Well- at least that’s what I’ve heard.
Or what Danielle told me.

She said she’d come over and try to visit me sometimes. Danielle’s grandparents live here – I don’t know where, and I don’t care to find out (- what use is your best friend’s grandparents if your best friend isn’t available anyways? Cookie baking with Danielle’s granny? Planting tomatoes for Dan’s gramps? Ew. So not my idea of fun.) – so she’d probably be able to come over once or twice, when she visits them, that is.

Once or twice. In a year.

Seriously- what point is there in living if there’s no Danielle Panabaker to share all my secrets with?
No Danielle to gossip over the latest accessories the Populars are wearing? No Danielle to giggle with about the cute, new foreign exchange boy from France?

But I guess I could always get a new best friend.

Though frankly, I don’t think anyone will ever replace Danielle.

I kicked a stone on the ground in disgust with myself. I could feel a few rays of sunlight hit my sleeveless shoulders but as I continued walking the sun’s rays were blocked off again.

But really, I shouldn’t moan around inside myself about Danielle – you don’t need a best friend to live.
Just like you don’t need a boy in your life to live.

I never had a boyfriend – and I never groaned continuously about it before, have I?

And I’m fourteen. I should be experienced already.

Okay, sure, Dan had gone out once with a guy– but it hadn’t made me uncomfortable about not having a boyfriend and she having one – right?

In fact - I don’t even think I’ve ever been embarrassed even once whenever Ashley O’Connell and her group of followers passed me and whispered snide comments about how much a freak I am and how I’m so not girlfriend material and how all the boys are scared of me since I supposedly carry the ‘I’m-a-Boy-Hater’ virus.

Because, truth be told – I didn’t find anything interesting in a boy. No - I don’t have ‘I’m-a-Boy-Hater’ syndrome like the Queen Bee, Ashley O’Connell, in my old school (Stuyvesant High School) says.
I like boys, though just as friends.
I mean – they don’t interest me. Danielle always said I was weird in a joking kind of way when I tell her of this sometimes.
But I don’t agree much. I’m not weird. Boys are.

They’re a breed apart from us. Boys are, that is.
I mean – I like to understand things before I get interested in them.

Boys can’t be understood.
They just do the things they do.
Maybe it’s hormones.

But hey-
I digress.

Where was I?

Oh, yeah. Danielle.

Well, I’d be happy with just a friend itself when I go to Chelsea Heights High School.
I shudder, although it’s spring and the climate is moderate – unlike in NYC, where the climate gets colder than usual and it rains too much. But that’s mostly due to global warming.

It’s creepy to think of the fact that in just two days – Chelsea Heights High School will be reopening.
And I’d be a new student there.

I sigh. I kind of feel tired.

Anyone would of course, walking about one million miles or something.
But I think it’s mostly because of the scary feeling creeping in my chest - about being a newbie at Chelsea Heights.

I pause in my tracks.
Gazing around vaguely at the grey street, sidewalk, and the large houses – I decide to head back home.
I’ve seen enough.