Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Shadows of Dream ❯ Shadows of a Dream ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

 
 
The radio played quietly in the background as she lay in bed. It was some form of pop but she was too submerged in her thoughts and memories. Today was the anniversary of the worst day of her life. The day where a child's life had ended and another one had begun.
She had been nine and happy, not knowing that when she got into her father's pickup, the worst years of her life were waiting just around the corner.
The day the accident happened, he had been driving her home from school. They were laughing about some silly science video she had seen in school when something hit them, knocking them into the middle of a busy intersection.
The rest of it was blurry. But she remembered when her life crumbled, that part was picture perfect. Never would she forget those last ten minutes. She had been sitting on the curb, waiting for her father to come hoist her up in his arms, laugh and carry her home. Instead, one of the on scene firemen came up to her, sat down and changed her life forever.
The car that had been behind them wasn't able to slow down and had hit them from behind. When they were out in the intersection, a pickup hadn't been able to stop in time and hit the driver's side. Her father died instantly. His neck had snapped.
Her mother had been a caring person before but after her husband's death, turned bitter and looked to alcohol to ease her troubles. It was her mother that instilled the sense of guilt into her. Her father had suffered a broken neck, but she had come out of the crash with a small bruise from the seatbelt
Ava could have spent the entire day laying in bed thinking about that day, but she had commitments, such as school. She was passing, thank God, but in order to keep that fact a reality she would have to get up.
Ava sat up, running her hands through her short cap of black hair. It had been long once but after the accident she had gotten it all cut off.
Ted Saluo, her father, had been a hairdresser and loved to play around with her hair. Every morning when she got up he would take her aside and fuss with it. He had usually done it up in pigtails.
He told her once, when she was about seven or so, that he didn't like it when she let her hair hang down in front of her face. He wanted to see her eyes, those unusual gold eyes that were always shining with barely restrained excitement.
Ava glanced into the small mirror positioned on her night table. Those unusual gold eyes he loved were still there. They just didn't shine anymore.
It never occurred to her that if her father had lived, his heart would have broke. She was a shadow of her former self. The simple joy of life that once had been, was now gone.
Ava knew that she was no longer the young girl she used to be. Sometimes she felt a deep sympathy for the girl that once was and wished she could be that person again. It wasn't to be though, and she knew it. It would be too hard to change again, to change into someone she hasn't been in years. The bright, vibrant colors that used to hang in her closets or sat neatly folded in drawers were packed up in boxes. The dresses and skirts she used to wear were packed up as well. With a little bit of effort, she could go and dig them out again but there was no point. They'd be too small for her now.
Thinking about clothes had Ava thinking about some of the comments she got at school. Fashion seemed to be a priority in teenage life. It wasn't a priority in hers and the comments she got from her fellow students proved that fact. Her clothes were to loose one day, too grubby the next. Too dull, too dark, too depressing. The list went on and on.
Ava didn't care about that though. Her best friend, Kansas Mayor was another matter. Whenever Kansas was able to get her out to the mall, Ava with several bags of what Kansas insisted were the latest fashions.
Ava heaved a sigh as she rose from her bed. Her room was organized so that she was able to stay in bed for as long as possible and wouldn't have to rush around looking for things.
Ava stretched as she made her way toward her bathroom. When she emerged ten minutes later, she was dressed her usual jeans and sweatshirt.
Walking through the kitchen, Ava decided against grabbing something to eat and headed out the door, shutting it firmly behind her.
 
If there was one thing Ava enjoyed about school, it was being able to work on her own private hobby. She already had the grades so it wouldn't much affect her academics, the challenge was in not letting any of her `subjects' catch her in the act.
It had nearly happened once in her tenth year. Mr. Richards had been walking up and down the aisles while she was scribbling away in her notebook, much like she was doing now, and stopped at her desk. It was a rather cliché thing but just as he was about to look at her notes, the bell had rung. Since then, she learned that it was better to keep a different assignment out so she could switch to that if a teacher came by.
Ava took a moment as Ms.Dobb continued on with her lecture on the War of 1820 to read over her work. The writings had her wondering if she could ever get this, and the others like it, published.
 
“It is very common for senior students to develop horrendous sicknesses
that can cause serious harm to their mental health.
An excellent example of one of these dramatic conditions is Boring Teacher
Syndrome or BTS.
In 2005, a specimen was found that provided an excellent look into the beginnings
and endings of BTS.
Ms. Dobb was found in a twelfth grade social class. In the midst of teaching her
class about the habits of Brazilian tribes, a student was observed to be drifting
off to sleep. This student was observed for ten minutes in which time the student
had to jolt himself awake. When the ten minutes were up, the student was asleep
and Ms. Dobb was on the verge of an eruption. The student was sentenced to 3 after- school detentions.
It was found that BTS is usually instilled by older woman of approximately 68
years of age. These women tend to be largely overweight and wear flower
printed dresses. Their white hair is never unkept and pulled back into a severe
bun that accents their roundness all the more. Beady eyes are set in a wide,
square face etched with wrinkles.
Studies have proven that several methods can be done that do not attract attention
to ones self and are excellent defenses against BTS.
These methods include doodling, reading ahead in the text that Ms. Dobb
has handed out or another book of your choice, or writing random things in a
notebook.
Symptoms of BTS include dozing, drooling, falling out of chair, full out sleeping
and indigestion.
Be aware for teachers who emit BTS. Ignoring these warnings could be
hazardous to your after-school life.”
 
Ava smiled, pleased with the results her `studies' had shown. Doing activities like this in
Ms. Dobb's class was really the only way to survive first period.
“Avila. Writing in your little book again? You do it so often; people may start to suspect you're up to no good.”
Her smile dropped. There was no one Ava detested more than the rich Elizabeth Myers. Turning around her seat, Ava studied her.
Elizabeth was perhaps the most sought after girl in school. With her long, wavy blonde hair and clover green eyes it was no wonder. Elizabeth's family owned a little antique shop on the corner of Main Street. She would have been wealthy with just that to her name but her grandfather ran the Lumberjacks Lardum, the most respected company in the lumber industry.
As a result, Elizabeth was always dressed with the latest fashions. Most of the clothes she wore were designer made, or so she claimed. Ava was sure she had seen Margret Hathy, a junior, wearing the same blue suit jacket Elizabeth had worn the first day of school.
“Elizabeth. I understand that you enjoy prodding at me but please, don't use my full name, especially not today.”
Ava turned back around in her seat. It was true that she didn't like to go by her full name. Her father used to always call her `Avila' and it just brought back too many memories.
 
When lunch finally rolled around, Ava had completed two other descriptions on her English and Math teachers. Mr. Ferguson and Mrs. Torgun were very nice teachers but they had their faults which Ava criticized mercilessly.
Choosing a table, Ava sat and waited for Kansas to roll into the room. And roll into the room she did.
Kansas Mayor was a girl that nobody could miss. A tiny little thing decked out in eye smarting colors, she drew every eye in the room. Her hair, a deep burgundy, curled around her shoulders and drew the eye down to a shirt of frosted pink and a baby blue mini. Ava thought that the pink heels she was wearing were at least 5 inches high.
It came as no surprise to Ava that she was asked out at least once a week. It seemed no one understood that she already had a boyfriend who was traveling around the country a bit before he came back to start college.
“You're wearing that shirt again?” Kansas dropped in a chair on the opposite side of the table.
“Yes. It's comfortable.”
Kansas rolled her eyes. “It may be comfortable but its hell on the eyes. Why don't you wear that purple shirt I got you? It would be perfect on you.”
“No thank you. I would like to keep some form of modesty in this school.”
It was true; the shirt was much to low for her tastes. Ava thought it would feel like following everyone else in school as many of the girls wore tops such as that on a day to day basis.
“Oh God. It's not that low.” Kansas bit into the apple she had pulled from her bag.
“Well, maybe not for you. I would feel like a total idiot though. So if you don't mind, I'll continue wearing my eye smarting shirts.” Ava laughed as Kansas sighed and let her head drop to the table.
“We really need to brainwash you Ava. We seriously do.”
 
It was the last class of the day before Ava knew it. Kansas had given her back her notebook right before Ava walked into the science lab. She was grateful. Mr. Fuki was her favorite teacher to document.
Mr. Fuki was ushering everyone to pull out their books and focus on the lesson he was about to get into. Ava whipped out her pen and as Mr. Fuki started into his lesson, she started on her teacher notes.
 
“Another common disease encountered in high school in D.O.A.O.T.S
other wise known as the Drone-On-And-On-Teacher Syndrome.
This particular disease is commonly found in science labs around the
eleventh grade area.
D.O.A.O.T.S is usually cultivated by teachers who resemble adult geeks.
An excellent example would be Mr. Colte of Columbia High. This spreader
of D.O.A.O.T.S is found at the lower level of the north corridor. He can be
easily spotted by his brightly checkered vest. This vest is worn over a light
dress shirt paired with dress pants. In order to see clearly, Mr. Fuki owns a
pair of square framed glasses with thick lenses.
He is a tall, thin man with no concept of good looks. His red hair is often
slicked back exposing a face set in harsh lines.
Many students have fallen prey to this horrible sickness. An easy way to
avoid even a chance of falling under D.O.A.O.T.S would be to skip this
class all together. If that is not an option, go to the bathroom regularly or
follow suggestions listed under BTS.
Symptoms of D.O.A.O.T.S may include those listed under BTS or ones
such as yanking out hair, rolling eyes repeatedly or fidgeting. If suffering
from one or more of these symptoms, head to the nearest arcade of game
consol.
 
Ava stopped writing for a moment glanced at her text book. Science had been her favorite subject, until she met Mr. Colte. Now she dreaded it.
In her mind, there was nothing more boring than listening to a man explain one thing for 50 minutes that could be summed up in a few sentences.
A previous teacher of hers, Mr. Carlton had gone into depth about certain machines and scientific discoveries but those had been interesting and it was never as bad as this. More than once did Ava consider leaving the room when Mr. Colte started his lecture on one subject or another.
One good thing about this class was that it was always the last one of the day. The minute that bell rang, she would be out of this class and streaming down the halls with the other hundred or so students of her grade.
“Ms. Saluo, would you mind repeating what I just said.”
Ava jolted and cursed silently.
“Ms. Saluo, did you hear me? Repeat the last sentence I said.”
“You were talking about-“
When the bell rang signaling the end of class, Ava let out a long sigh of relief. She hadn't gotten one detention the whole semester and she didn't want one now.
Ava gathered up her books, wanting to leave the class as quickly as possible so that Mr. Colte didn't corner her.
 
Hurrying across the road, Ava picked up her pace. The sooner she got home, the sooner she could drop off into oblivion. Of course, in thinking about that, she managed to drop her books on the sidewalk.
Later on, she would probably come to think that stopping in front of the local pet-shop, Mittens for Kittens & Other Cuddly Creatures, wasn't pure coincidence but an act of fate.
As it was, after Ava collected her books, she turned to look in the window. It was then that she noticed the little black kitten with gold eyes staring at her.
Ava felt her heart break at the sad little eyes the kitten possessed. She had a weakness for animals and would melt instantly if a dog gave her the eyes.
The small thing pulled at her and in a moment of weakness, Ava pulled open the door causing the bell fastened above it to jingle out a fanciful tune.
 
Ava repeatedly smacked her head against the table. It was a stupid, stupid thing she had done. If it hadn't been for the eyes, those sad eyes, she would have been able to walk right on past.
Ava knew she would have gotten a pet eventually, after she had moved out on her own. Her mother wasn't especially fond of animals and so adopting a cat while she was still living with her mother was a horrible idea.
She could phone and cancel it but whenever she reached for that phone, Ava saw the little kitten with the sad eyes.
Ava shook her head, hoping somehow that her thoughts would right themselves. When that didn't work, she let her head drop onto the table again. Perhaps it would be best if she went to bed. Sleep might help her sort this out.