Infinite (Strange and Beautiful, Book 1) (82 page)

Clearing
my throat, I walked over to the microphone. I opened the notebook and thumbed
through the pages until I found the entry I was looking for. Nervous, I cleared
my throat again before I spoke. “This is my first time reading anything, but I
want to dedicate this poem to my best friend, Tegan, and my boyfriend,
Jackson.”

I
glanced over at them. Jackson smiled in a way that I was sure was meant to be
encouraging, but instead it did strange things to my insides while Tegan gave
me two thumbs up. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before I opened my
eyes and started reading. 

Once
there was a girl, who lived in an ordinary world.

But
in her mind, there was another place, where she hid and spent her days.

Her
family thought she was weird and never understood.

Her
words were gibberish and dismissed as quickly as they were heard.

She
met a girl who became her best friend.

This
friend was the greatest because she was able to understand.

She
listened when the girl talked and heard her every word.

She
stood by her, even when the world felt blurred.

There
was this boy, who noticed the girl.

He
thought she was strange and beautiful. He never judged her or thought she was
uncool.

When
he kissed her, the girl thought she'd fallen into a fairytale.

Because
it all seemed too good to be true, but it was real, and so was the way he made
her feel.

When
she was with her friend and the boy, everything in the world felt right.

It
was perfect and complete. They were her bright, shining lights.

The
real world didn't seem so scary and started to make sense.

She
hoped that feeling would never end because, together, they were infinite.

Cecilia
Granger

Summer

Creative
Writing

Essay

Seeing
Beyond the Surface

I
have always considered myself to be open-minded in most regards. I enjoy taking
in the world around me. My mother says that I have always been inquisitive.
However, like most people, sometimes it is very easy to take things at face
value or believe what I have heard instead of judging for myself. Over the past
several months, I have been taken by surprise by many people. It has given me
the opportunity to rethink the way I look at people and endeavor to see beyond
the surface.

In
a paper I had to write last summer about myself, I tried to write about my
parents, but I realized how very little I actually knew about either of them.
What random bits of knowledge I had were garnered from pieces of conversation,
remembered moments and stories conveyed through family. There have been several
changes at home, throughout the year, that made me reevaluate how I look at my
parents.

For
almost all of my life, my mom stayed at home, taking care of my siblings and
myself. Even though I often felt closer to her than any other member of my
family, I realized that I always just saw her as “Mom.” When she decided to go
back to teaching, it reminded me that, beyond the title of mother and wife, she
is actually a person named Leela. She had dreams and goals for herself like
everyone else, and as much as she loves her family, she deserves a life outside
of us.

Once
I made this realization about her, something in our relationship changed.
Whether the realization matured me or my mom wanted to reconnect because she
wasn’t as present at home as she had once been, a line of communication, unlike
any we had before, was opened. It was a welcome adjustment because I finally
understood that my mother could be so much more than just “Mom.” She has a
wealth of knowledge and experience and a kindness and willingness to listen and
encourage.

My
father is still a mystery in many ways. I always saw him as stubborn,
straight-laced and serious. Sometimes I found myself disliking him because of
those traits, but he is also a hard worker. Even though he often comes off as a
stickler and tightwad, he has always provided for us, making sure we never had
to go without.

When
my father suffered a heart attack back in early May, it was easily one of the
most terrifying experiences of my life. Despite our differences, it was too
painful to even consider a world where my father was no longer with us.
Thankfully, he has recovered, but the most amazing part of his healing is the
discovery that my father is actually capable of change. Even though he and I
are very different, I believe he and I can appreciate those differences even
more.

My
relationship with my siblings has always been a bit strained. My older brother
and sister are different from me in many ways. Being the youngest child did not
help matters much either. From my perspective, the best way to describe my
sister was as just a pretty face with a semi-rotted core while my brother
tended more toward brawn than brains.

Things
started to change with my siblings when our mom returned to work, but when our
dad had the heart attack, we really banded together; we proved that, despite
our typical antagonism and frustrations with each other, we really do love one
another. I also realized my siblings were more alike than I thought. They
didn’t often let their emotions show. Much like our father, they preferred to
keep their emotions close to the vest.

The
two that surprised me most, however, were people that I did not even know a
year ago. I have always had difficulty making new friends, so it was very
surprising when I fell into an easy friendship with Jackson. The only other
time that had happened was when I met my best friend, Tegan, when I was in
kindergarten. I was used to people thinking I was odd because I was so often in
my head, but Jackson did not bat an eye. In fact, he shared my bookish
eccentricity.

The
most surprising part about Jackson’s shockingly nice and considerate
disposition was that it was such a direct opposite to what I would have
expected. It was my biased hang up that left me with the belief that, because
Jackson was so good looking, he would not be intelligent, friendly or kind. He
proved me wrong and also made me aware of my own preconceived notion.

The
other person was Mark. His reputation preceded him in a very unflattering way,
and he initially proved that reputation to be warranted. He also did nothing to
endear himself to me. After my first encounter with him, I would have been more
than happy never to see him again. Then, quite unexpectedly, I witnessed the
real Mark that existed behind the angry mask he usually wore. It made me pause
to reconsider where Mark was coming from, but he was the one who approached me
and changed the trajectory of our relationship.

I
realized that, despite making some very bad choices, the real Mark was not so
bad. While I was reluctant to trust him at first, once he opened up, he proved
to be a worthy friend. I am still amazed by how much he has changed; I would
not have thought it possible. I appreciate his friendship so much and feel so
honored to know the person he is now.

So
many times I felt like people overlooked or did not understand me; I found I
was just as guilty. What I have learned in the last year, however, is that
people can and often will exceed your expectations. There is nothing more
humbling than being proved wrong. That is why I have discovered that is it
important to never take anything at face value. Sometimes you have to take a
closer look and see what lies beneath the surface.

Writing
Infinite
has been, without a doubt, one of the best experiences of my life. It was a
wild ride and pure joy every step of the way, but it would not be the story it
is today without the help of several people.

The
story probably never would have been written at all if Mandee had not
recommended I read
The Perks of Being A Wallflower
. Thank you, Mandee,
for bringing the book to my attention, and thank you to Stephen Chbosky for
writing a wonderful novel that managed to get the wheels turning in my head.

To
Nikki, you were the first person to read any of
Infinite
. Even when it
was just a titleless jumble of randomness, you were the first person to love
Silly and believed in the story enough to tell me to keep writing.

To
all of the AITP readers, thank you for sticking by me and encouraging me
through the years. It was a long road to get to this point. I never would have
found the courage to publish without your support and kindness.

Thank
you to my family for introducing me to the world of books and encouraging me to
read (even if you don’t like it yourself, Grandma!) and enabling me to fall in
love with writing. Even if you didn’t know what that they were (because I
wouldn’t let you read them), you tolerated my years of writing silly stories.

And
last, but certainly not least, I have to thank Becca, Mel and Amy for standing
by me through this publishing journey. You were invaluable to the process.
Without you, I probably would have given up and walked away. You stood by me
and cheered me on and were always gracious enough to offer to help in any way
possible. I cannot even begin to express how much I appreciate your kindness
and generosity. Thank you for being the Tegans to my Silly.

BRITTNEY
MUSICK was born and raised in Indiana. She graduated from Ivy Tech Community
College with an Associates of Applied Science for Visual Communications with a
concentration in Graphic Design. She works primarily as a freelance designer,
and creativity has always been in her blood.

As
a child, when her nose wasn’t buried in a book, she was always writing stories
in her head. She even had an imaginary friend–or so she’s been told. For many
years, she wrote stories only for herself (and occasionally shared them with
friends). As a teenager, she became active in sharing her fiction in online
communities, making several friends and penning several stories along the way.

Infinite
, however, is her first published
novel.

She
currently resides in Indiana, sharing a home with her grandparents and cat, and
when she’s not writing, she can usually be found chasing after her niece and
nephew or crocheting on the couch while watching one of her many favorite
television shows or movies. When she’s not drowning out the real world with
music, her nose can still be found buried in a book.

You
can find her online at brittneymusick.com.