Seclusion
Authors: C.S. Rinner
Seclusion
C.S. Rinner
Copyright © 2013 C.S.
Rinner
Published by C.S. Rinner
ISBN-13: 978-1482608083
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be
reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including
photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the
prior written permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters and story lines
are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Edited by Mamie Cosentino
Cover art by Jennifer Johnson –
http://sapphiredesignsonline.com
DEDICATION
Seclusion is dedicated to my loving and supportive husband,
Andy and my wonderful daughter. As well as “my person” you know who you are! I
love you guys!
McKinley
High School was the home
of the Mighty Kings as well as some of Orange County’s snobbiest cliques, such
as the royals. As I walked down the hall I could see the mean girls, as they
were dubbed, huddled together in front of their lockers, snickering and
giggling. I had stopped attempting to be a lemming ages ago, it felt. They
refused to look me in the face even though my locker was only five away from
theirs. This was my usual treatment, though, and I could only hope my hoodie
would hide me from them. As I opened my locker to grab my iPod and the current vamp
novel I was into, and also to fill my bag with the textbooks I’d need for
homework, I snuck a look toward the clique. All I could see was bleached hair,
cheer outfits, and the typical underclassmen groupies that hung on the royals’
every word.
My locker was bursting and
I was in the process of shoving all my items into my backpack when my
three-quarter length gloves fell in Princess Asshat’s way.
“Oh, Raegan… almost didn’t
notice you. If you want to be invisible you should really… get rid of those.”
She picked up a glove, holding it out as if it would bite, and flung it at me.
“It’s bad enough you wear the same outfit every day… Hey Ryan, have you ever
noticed Raegan before?” she asked.
I could hear the groupies
cackling, as if Princess Asshat was even original. I shoved the gloves back
into my backpack as quickly as possible, hoping to escape the obvious torment I
was about to endure.
“Emma, do you have to be so
petty? Leave the freak alone,” Ryan said.
Yep, that was me; the
hottest and most popular guy at school knew me as the freak.
“Oh Ry, you know I’m a
sucker for charity. We used to be friends in first grade. I guess I can’t even
make over…
that
. Such a tragedy,” she said as she flicked my hoodie off
my head.
I rushed into class,
ignoring the group. As I moved to the back of the class, I pulled my hoodie
over my head and my sleeves over my hands like gloves. There was a time when I
would have responded to Princess Asshat with what I thought was a witty
comment, but I had learned to keep to myself over the past two years of hell
that was high school. I had secrets that were more important than my social
status or friends. Plus, I already knew the royals’ secrets and I felt sorry
for them. We all had things we wanted to keep from others, whether it was
cheating or eating disorders. Yep, unfortunately, I knew they had their own
specific issues - just more secrets for me to keep.
I slung my backpack across
my desk and hoped the class would go by quickly. Mr. Adams was discussing the
final assignment of the year, which was to present a monologue that would need
to invoke the emotions of the entire class or we could kiss passing good-bye. I
had thought drama class would help me escape from myself for an hour a day.
Instead, it reminded people on a daily basis how weird I was.
The sweat began to cling to
my long blonde hair because of the hoodie that I forced myself to keep on my
head. Although I loathed all this clothing, it was a necessary evil so that I
could protect others and myself.
Only alone could I be
totally comfortable with who I am, and only then could I allow myself to shed
these layers of clothing. Most girls dream about their future prince. I
daydream about being able to wear my hair up, wear a miniskirt, dress, or even
a tank top! I could almost hear my aunt’s voice, “Rae, you should wear the
clothes I buy you. Why do you insist on only wearing them at home? You are
beautiful!” I could never tell if she was being truly honest or not, because I
always hid myself behind clothes, and I didn’t have any actual friends, let
alone boyfriends, who would say anything. Internet friends do not count! Sure,
I had some acquaintances, but I couldn’t allow myself to be close to anyone.
I would call myself plain.
I’m of average height, about 5’5”, and my hair is honey blonde and reaches my
mid-back. My eyes, a light brown with almost a golden tone, almost match my
hair. I also have a deep red streak that runs through and beneath my bangs and
frames my face like a vibrant highlight. I have always wondered if my mother’s
hair looked the same. Although the streak is strange, I am used to it. My aunt
loves it, saying it is mysterious and beautiful. I’ve been asked several times
who my hairdresser is, so it must look okay, at least. I often think about
getting it dyed to match the rest of my hair, but I am already the weirdo, so
why spend my extra money on that? I would say I have an average body. I hate
it, but I tend to gain weight in my hips and thighs. That usually gives me a
curvy shape, not that anyone could tell under my jeans and hoodies. Despite the
fact that I might look like any other 16 year old, I haven’t felt normal since
elementary school.
My life was changed in
second grade. That’s when I earned the title of freak. I can still remember
that day so clearly, probably because it was the most traumatic moment of my
life.
“Good morning, class!
Please turn your math books to page 38. Please complete this page and wait
quietly. If you need help, raise your hands,” Mrs. Jeffers said.
I remember being my usual
nerdy self and finishing first. I raised my hand to offer to help the other
students with their assignments. That was my job, and I was proud of it. Mrs.
Jeffers came over and laid her hand on my arm as she checked my work before
allowing me to help the others. Immediately, I was jolted into what I could
only describe as a daydream. Mrs. Jeffers was in the car, driving with her
mother and sister. There was arguing, and Mrs. Jeffers didn’t see the grocery
truck as it crashed into them. The truck flipped Mrs. Jeffers’ car. I saw her
mother smashed and her sister lying in a hospital bed hooked up to machines. I
remember shrieking and crying.
“Sweetie! Come here.” Mrs.
Jeffers pulled me to her desk.
I remember sobbing on her
lap. I tried to explain all that I saw.
“Honey, that didn’t happen.
You must have fallen asleep,” she said.
That afternoon when I
should have been going home, I refused to leave Mrs. Jeffers. My aunt had to
haul me away screaming. My aunt was also very shaken up.
The following day the principal
announced that Mrs. Jeffers had been in a bad accident. She never returned to
class after that. The class forever thought it was my fault she didn’t come
back. Since that incident, school has been the bane of my existence.
That was the first and only
time I had predicted the future, but it was not my only daydream. The slightest
touch from anyone would give me flashes of that person’s life. I could also
feel any strong emotions or pain they had. Years later, I realized I could even
heal that pain. Although these might seem great to any typical lemming, it was
my personal curse.
After Mrs. Jeffers’
accident Aunt Janice and Uncle Jeremy were so concerned that they took me to
specialist after specialist. Aunt Janice said, “Don’t worry, honey, we’ll find
someone who can help you. Your mother had odd behavior too!”
“My mother ‘had odd
behavior too,’ what does that mean?”
Aunt Janice would just
shake her head and say, “Ohhhh, don’t tell Jeremy I said that!”
I knew my aunt and uncle
were hiding something, and I knew I could easily figure it out if I touched
them, but I wasn’t ready for the truth yet.
My aunt and uncle had
raised me since I was two, and I loved them more than anything. My aunt says
that my mother asked her to watch me one day. My mother had said that it was
urgent. She has been missing ever since. My aunt didn’t know my father. He was
a crackpot, probably in some loony bin.
My aunt and uncle weren’t
able to have children of their own, so they always said that I was a blessing.
Yet, this came with the sadness and pain of losing my mother. I can see my
aunt’s sadness sometimes. I know she misses my mother. I think she truly
believes my mother must be dead, because my aunt swears that she would never
just leave me. She loved me too much. I’ve always believed my aunt and loved
her as much as I could imagine loving my real mother.
I was distracted from my
thoughts by my classmates packing up their books and preparing to leave. I
looked at the clock, and sure enough the last bell was about to ring. I had
missed the end of the lecture.
Oh well, two more days till school’s out!
I let everyone else leave first, which was my usual routine, although I wanted
to race out! My plan was to wait until the last person left and then head out
so that I could miss most of the crowd on their way to the parking lot. I was
still itching to rip my hoodie off!
I couldn’t wait to get to
my car. Unfortunately, I had to make the long trek a couple blocks from school
to get to it. My car, the Silver Fox, has to be the most normal thing about me.
However, since I don’t want any extra attention, I always park along a side
street near the school. My Silver Fox is a sporty little convertible, a
wonderful present from my uncle, but most people just assume I walk to and from
school.
I got into my car, turned
on some chick music, stripped off my hoodie and grabbed a ponytail holder to
throw my hair up, my scarlet bangs sliding across my face. I grabbed my Dior
sunglasses and was ready to go. No, people at school would
not
recognize
me.
Ha
, I thought,
screw them!
I checked my iPhone. I had
two texts.
-
Rae, come home quick.
There’s a professor here who wants to meet you named Taylor Remington. HURRY.
Aunt J.
-
Rae, where are you? I
think you’ll want to meet this lady. HURRY.
Aunt J.
It had been a long time,
years even, since my aunt had made me talk to any professionals. I thought she
had finally given up the search for finding a “cure” for me. I was sick of
meeting crazy psychics and psychologists who thought I was hallucinating.
My usual downtime was
ruined!
Man
,
I could really use a Frappuccino with extra, extra
caramel - light, of course
. I was planning to make it to the library, one
of the few places I allowed myself to go without as many barriers against the
world! Usually, I would look up information about people like Taylor before an
appointment, but this time my aunt had made the appointment without letting me
know.
I’m going to have a serious talk with her beforehand
, I thought.
It’s
not my fault no one told me about this earlier. That’s it
, I thought,
I’m
taking my time, I’m getting my frap - a venti even - and I’m going to sit in my
sweet Silver Fox and look Ms. Taylor Remington up on my iPhone.
Sitting in the coffee shop
parking lot, I could see a few kids from school, but my tinted windows shielded
me from unwanted staring. I searched and searched and searched, and the only
thing I found was Taylor Remington, Ph.D. in Psychology.
Another
psychologist! Hmmf.
Really, I don’t know how much more journaling and
talking about how my mother left me are going to help with my “odd” behavior. I
mean, I totally think therapy is a good thing - I wouldn’t repeat it out loud,
but I’ve always enjoyed my sessions. However, she isn’t going to understand my
abilities, and there is no way I’m going to tell her about them anyway! I
really thought since I started high school that the topic of my abilities had
ended. I learned to stop talking and start hiding them in the third grade! Why
couldn’t everyone just let me be? I have accepted it, why can’t they?
I walked into my home, my
invaded sanctuary, planning on giving this lady the silent treatment. My aunt
and uncle were sitting around the coffee table, sipping tea, with brochures
laid out fancifully on the table. My heart started pounding, and my brain said
that there was no way that my aunt and uncle would send me away, just no way! I
mentally started going through my latest issues… wearing ugly clothes, getting
a C- in P.E. (of course due to not dressing out. Sure, sweats were an option,
but I’m not crazy, it
is
June!), no friends… I always pretend to leave
the house to meet with “friends.” I attempted to quiet my mental rant with a
deep breath and prepared myself to act like nothing was wrong.
Dr. Taylor Remington stood
up. She was tall and super-model skinny, with chic, short dark hair, wearing
what I believed was a Coco Chanel skirt suit with Jimmy Choos.
Whatever this
lady does, she must be good at it.
She attempted to shake my
hand, which I quickly pretended I didn’t see as I reached for the tea kettle
and cup. She sat back down and gave me the most nurturing smile that I’d seen,
one to match Aunt Janice’s. I thought she was about to offer me a homemade
cookie or a new puppy dog. I immediately began apologizing for being late,
blaming it on forgetting a book in my locker. I had no idea why I already felt
guilty for coming home too late. I took a seat with my tea. I guess the silent
treatment didn’t work.
“Hi, Raegan! It’s
so
nice to finally meet you! No worries at all about being late, I just decided to
drop by and see if I could catch you and your family! They are so hospitable;
we’ve been munching away on homemade scones! Oh, of course, she’s your aunt -
you get this treatment every day. Lucky you! Oh, sorry, on a tangent! Anyway,
I’m here representing the Dr. Ezekiel Drake Science Academy. Dr. Zeke, as he
likes to be called, founded our school for kids with special talents! Dr. Zeke
has many scouts on the lookout for people that might be good candidates for our
school.”