I Love Him, I Love Him Not - 1

Hey guys!

This story is kind of a mix of all my others. I hope you enjoy it and please, for the love of all things chocolaty and baked, COMMENT!

Lots of love,

Mev

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I witnessed the murder of James Kelly Romano.

I was only small when it happened; five years old or so, but that innocence was quickly stolen from my naive, child-like mind.

To this moment, I recall that night like it was yesterday. And even now, after all these years, I know, no matter how much I may want to, that I’ll never fail to recall it. The reminiscence haunts me.

I couldn’t have prevented the crime; I know that - I was only a child.

And yet, I tear myself up with overwhelming regret every single day, wondering whether I could have done something, anything, to save him. Wondering whether it might have been in my power to save my father.

It’s been years now - twelve long years to be precise. And still, I ponder on the memory of the man I loved more than life itself - sprawled out on the ground, his heart sputtering and failing, his breathing worn out and shallow.

I ponder on what his last words meant; the murmured foreign language that he managed to choke out as his last breath drew to a ragged close.

I will never forget them.

Because, seriously, who ever forgets the words that changed their life changed forever?

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"Summer Romano! You’re going to be late! I’m going to be late!" my mother called up the stairs impatiently, interrupting my shoe donning technique.

"Dork-face! Hurry up and get down here! I have football practice today!" my little brother, Maxi Romano, yelled up after her, equally as impatient. I waited for the third person, but of course, the voice never came.

Sighing, I pulled my other shoe on and stood up.

"Coming!" I called back, picking my school bag up and tugging it onto my shoulder.

My mum and evil little brother were always like this first thing on Monday morning. By Friday, it would be them lazing around and me out of the house on time.

"You got your lunch?" Mum asked me as I skipped down the stairs, pulling my black jacket on at the same time. I held my hand up to show her the brown paper bag I had picked up from the kitchen counter earlier. Mum was always worrying about my diet, mostly because I’m the only slim teenager in our family. I think it’s because I hate Macdonald’s, but she’s sure it’s anorexia or even secret bulimia.

"You got your brain?" Maxi sneered - his feeble daily attempt to wound me. Shrugging, I tapped my head.

"Dunno. Couldn’t find it." I joked, jamming my earphones into my ears and switching my MP3 player on. Soothing R&B music drowned out his meagre endeavour at a comeback.

Smiling good-natured, I ruffled his sandy blonde hair and ignored his vehement protests about how he’d taken ages to style it in the morning. Sure enough, my hand came away with a thin layer of hair gel on it. I grimaced and followed mum out to the car as Maxi laughed at my expression.

"C’mon kids. I’ve got the promotion meeting today." Mum said, frowning as I jumped into the passenger seat through the open window. She was talking about the company she worked for - Antigo Clothing Lines - and how she had an offer to become the chief designer. And, of course, she was frowning at my jump act. I did it every morning, and every morning she lectured me for it. "Summer…" she began in her warning voice as the engine revved into life.

I slumped down further in the leather seat and rested my chin on my chest, turning the volume on my Mp3 up till I almost couldn’t hear her.
Almost.

"How many times have I told you not to do that? I mean, any teenager could, I suppose, but you can’t have even the tiniest of suspicions - who knows where it might lead? Honestly, why can’t you just be more normal like Maxi?" She asked sternly, pulling out her favorite trump card - sibling comparisons. I could almost see Maxi’s smug smirk as she said it.

Mum was always doing this - I think she resents me being different or something. She was a teen model when she was younger, and had hoped against hope that I followed in her footsteps. Having inherited neither her blonde hair, blue eyes or dimpled chin, though, that notion was quickly elapsed. And now I’m a spare part.

"Maybe because Maxi is mortal, and I’m not." I replied in a cold voice looking straight ahead. The effect was instant - my words caused her to veer dangerously on the road and swear an obscenity under her breath.

"Summer! How many times?! Not in public!" She cried, getting the car back under control and shaking her head exasperatedly. Maxi, behind us, had stopped breathing. He let out a long gust of air and slunk back into his seat.

I sighed.

Ever since I was five, to be exact, I’ve been different. No one can actually explain how or why - if you did any doctors tests on me (which we have; numerous times) they’d show that I was a perfectly healthy human. I’m warm blooded, my heart beats regularly, and I don’t grow claws out of my knuckles. I also can’t shape shift.

The result was that we couldn’t explain was how I could lift various household objects when I was younger and fling them around the room in a tantrum without even touching them. Or how, when I really wanted something, I could make it happen without moving or talking or anything. And how, when I was sad, the sky would rumble thunderously just as my first tear leaked out of my eye, or how when I smiled the sun would make a miraculous appearance through the clouds after days of darkness.

We had put it down to coincidence or freakish science too many times. Now the difference was palpable - I was an outsider, and that was that.

"We’re not exactly in public." I grumbled, shuffling back up so I was sitting straight and leaning my head on the cool window. I hated it when she did this. Hated it when she treated me like I was some sort of alien. Which I suppose I was. The first few drops of gloomy rain pattered against the cold glass, and mum sighed. Sometimes I wished it wasn’t so obvious what I was feeling.

"Summer, it’s just a risk we can’t take. Where would I be if you got taken away, huh? Where? Probably in the dumps by now. In the dumps or in a mental hospital somewhere."

This much, at least, was true. After dad died, mum had drifted into a downwards spiral of grief she didn’t seem to want to get off. I was the one who supported her through everything, who helped her when Maxi was born. I did all the housework, phoned into the company frequently to tell them that she was sick and got to school in time, too. You could say I was really mature for my age. Or that something helped me.

"You’ve got Maxi." I countered lackadaisically - after all, she was right. I didn’t want to go into government hands as a freak. Mum’s expression was soft as she turned into the school parking lot.

"Maxi’s not you." She said quietly, so quietly that I knew that my little brother hadn’t heard. "I love you Summer. You know I couldn’t bear it if anything ever happened to my special girl." She almost whispered, reaching over to squeeze my hand.

Normally I hated it if she ever flung this soppy stuff at me, no matter how truthful, but today it was some kind of assurance.

"Love you too." I muttered, throwing the car door open and slamming it closed just in time to hear mum saying the same to Maxi.

I hitched my bag further up my shoulder and jammed my hands into my pockets as I walked across the crumbling tarmac towards school.
A few eyes followed me, but only a few - I was no new news. As I skipped up the stone steps leading inside the building, a blurred red and black monkey-shape barrelled into my side and enveloped me in a giant hug.

"Oof." I gasped, struggling to free myself.

"Summer!" the monkey exclaimed, its voice strangely familiar. I pulled away from its grasp a little and was able to recognise it as my best friend, Irena Kensington. The red was her wild auburn curls and the black her clothes today.

"Um hey, Irena." I said; my voice noticeably less enthusiastic. It’s not that I don’t love Irena, because I do. I’m just quieter than her. She’s loud and excited about almost anything, and I’m the complete opposite.

"How was your summer, Summer?" Irena said, asking me the same question she had asked me every first day back since year two, when we met. I groaned and pushed her away as she attempted a comical nudge in my side.

"It was passable." I shrugged, aware that her mind was probably already on other matters. She had the attention span and memory of a goldfish. A warm, lovable, talking goldfish - but a goldfish all the same.

"Good, good." She replied, offhand, waving her hand about in the air as if dismissing the subject before I even had a chance to ask her the question back. Then a familiar gleam came into her eyes and she grabbed my arm. "Have you heard?" she squealed, suddenly extremely excited. I looked at her – eyes bright, smile wide, and knew what was coming. I dreaded it.

"Nope." I answered half-heartedly, internally shying away from the verbal tidal wave that was sure to come. Irena was always like this - always like this when a new guy came into our lives. A new single guy, to be exact, whom she deemed suitable to set me up with, and who she deemed suitable to be my future boyfriend or, if she’s in a good, imaginative mood, even my husband.

"There’s a new guy coming to our school! Seventeen like us, and an art student. Apparently, he’s really good looking - Lucy Waterman has practically called dibs on him, and you know how picky she is. All I’ve gathered is that his auntie and uncle live here and he is meant to be staying with them. I wonder why he’s away from his parents. I wonder what he’s like. Ooh … imagine if he’s a total hottie! If he is, Nathan better watch out - he’ll have competition. I’m joking of course; don’t look so serious, you know how much I love him. Wow, did I tell you about the present that he got me for my birthday? It’s really cool; a silver chain with just a heart pendant on it. I love it, even though I was hoping he’d give me his chain or something, you know, to show everyone we’re going steady but whatever, the necklace he got me is the best…"

Sure enough, there was a definite mention of a new guy within Irena’s usual babble of catch-up conversation. I pondered on the possibility of him being potential boyfriend material - like Irena had enthused - but dismissed the notion quickly. If Lucy Waterman was interested, there was absolutely no point.

After the initial holiday prattle, I kind of zoned out. Irena’s birthday was at the end of August, and she was still going on about Nathan (her boyfriend’s) present to her now. I knew every single little detail about it - and that was long before I’d actually set eyes on the piece of jewelery.

Whilst we talked, we walked, and I was soon outside my grey locker.

"Rena, you’d better get to registration," I reminded her laughingly, turning her around by the shoulders and directing her to where her first period classroom was. She blinked, a baffled expression crossing her face, before continuing. Her babble of conversation didn’t even pause for a second - she carried on talking even as she strode through the crowded hallways away from me.

I shook my head after her and turned back to the locker. Her talkativeness was the best sometimes - her words would draw attention away from my sour moods, but I still couldn’t see how she could just go on and on and on and on...

Click. I turned in the combination for my locker, and the door sprang open. After stuffing my bag inside and pulling out the necessary books for my first two lessons, I made my way to my own form room.

The late bell rang just as I pushed through the door. Mr Gilding, my form tutor and English lit teacher, looked up, grinned at me, and returned to his papers. I smiled back and turned the volume on my Mp3 up to drown out the meaningless chatter that sounded through the classroom. The assortment of people I had gotten stuck with for a form class was as bimbo and jock as you got, and really annoyed me at the best of times. They were all so fake.

Just as I slid into my corner seat, the door swung open again. I placed my books on the table and glanced up just as the new student slunk in.

Wow.