“what can I do

The next morning started off awkward.

Luce and I had breakfast together and she acted like nothing happened last night. I was good at pretending too but the overwhelming guilt hadn't even let me sleep properly last night. I needed to apologize or else I knew I would feel like shit the whole day. 

That was just how I was.

"I'm sorry for last night," I murmured when she passed me a slice of toast. 

Luce looked up in surprise.

"It's all right." She said, waving it off. "You don't have to apologize."

"But I shouted at you."

"You didn't really. Like I said, it's fine. I'll try staying out of your business, at least until you're here, and I'll try not to answer Mom's calls so frequently."

If she was trying to make me feel better, it sure as heck wasn't working.

"Don't do that! Mum will be worried then. I don't...it's fine. I was just not in the mood last night. I wouldn't have reacted the way I reacted if I wasn't...if I was in the mood." Which might've been a lie. I may have reacted the same, irrespective of the situation.

She stared at me before smiling. "Okay."

I sighed in relief and leaned back in my chair.

"Also, about the hospital." Luce added, glancing at me. "You can take a day off if you want."

What about Alastair? I wanted to ask. Who'd take care of him then?

"A few more volunteers have surprisingly shown up. I'm sure you taking a day off won't cause a fuss," She told me, almost answering my silent question. I merely nodded in response. "Maybe you can spend some time at the library. After all, you didn't just come here for this whole volunteering thing. It's supposed to be a vacation for you too."

Was she saying that because of how I had reacted last night? Or was it because of Mrs. Hawthorne? 

All of a sudden, I was thinking about the way Mrs. Hawthorne had looked at me yesterday. A look of disapproval and distaste. 

"Why does she hate me?" I blurted out, mentally cringing afterward. I had a serious problem of not letting things like such go so easily. "Mrs. Hawthorne, I mean."

"She doesn't." Luce shook her head. My eyes lingered on her freshly showered hair, draping over her shoulders. While my hair was just straight, hers went along in loose curls. "She's just a bit unstable with all that had happened."

With all that had happened. Luce was still not telling me what had actually happened with the Hawthornes or with Alastair. I wondered if she was asked not to discuss it with anyone else. Especially since people were publishing articles about the whole incident now.

I sighed heavily because of course, I already knew that. She wasn't to be blamed and I shouldn't judge people so quickly. 

"I get it," I murmured and took a bite of my toast. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault," she said. "Everyone gets that impression from her. Maybe she really is a stuck-up bitch, who knows?"

My eyes widened as the piece of toast I was just chewing on got stuck in my throat, almost choking over it.

"But watching her son go through all of that, being helpless and just...confused, I don't think anyone deserves that." Luce added.

I gulped down my glass of water and trained my eyes down at my plate.

"So don't worry over it. Alastair's allowed to have visitors only twice a week." She sighed before pulling her still-drenched hair up in a loose bun. "She won't be bothering you much."

°°°°°

Like Luce had suggested, I visited the library.

Not like I had many choices. I still needed someone to show me around here, because I didn't really trust myself--or Google maps--enough to direct me through the streets of Oak Valley.

"So," I spoke up as I leaned against one of the tall library shelves, "did you come up with any new songs?"

Rowan looked up from his guitar and I think he frowned a little, but it went away just as quick. 

"I don't make songs." He corrected me.

"You don't?" I questioned, my eyes trailing down to his guitar which he always seemed to have with him. "Why don't you?"

Rowan and I always somehow ended up meeting here in the library. I sometimes saw him in the hallways of the apartment building or in the elevator since he lived with his grandma--Mrs. Hutchins. We both seemed to love this library equally and since he was one of the first few friends I made here in Oak Valley--and a great one at that--I liked spending most of my time here.

"Have you ever made any songs?" He threw back the question at me, raising a brow quite perfectly. Why couldn't I raise my brow like that? 

"I sing like a strangling duck."

"You don't have to have a beautiful voice to write music." He gave me a pointed look, gently strumming a chord, totally ignoring the fact that I just compared myself to a duck.

"I know," I said before sliding down on the floor, pulling up my knees. I didn't realise I was fidgeting with a loose thread of my jeans until I had curled it around my finger. "But I don't think I'd be able to make good songs anyway. I suck at coming up with short lines that flow along well."

He cracked a smile at that. "Poetry."

I smiled back. "Exactly. I think you should make one though."

"Maybe I will."

My eyes slowly trailed towards the big glass doors at the back of the library. The library was always unusually quiet around the afternoons. It was just Rowan and me here sometimes, and maybe even Mrs. Hutchins, though I rarely saw her near her table.

"Do you still have that paper? With that melody?" I asked him.

He looked up at me, seeming confused for a few seconds before realizing what I was talking about. Leaning towards the shelf beside him, he pulled out a leather-bound book, coated with a thick layer of dust, and opened it up. Once he had the familiar frail, old-looking paper in his hand, he passed it to me.

"Here," he said. "You can have it actually. I was thinking about throwing it away anyway."

I slowly opened the familiar paper and looked across the music notes. I obviously didn't know what it meant, but I had listened to that melody. And even though it had sounded so sad, it still carried this sort of beauty in it. A beautiful and sad melody.

"Who do you think wrote this?"

Rowan shrugged. "I don't know. It was stuffed in that book when I found it."

But someone must've stuffed it in here, I thought.

"Do you think someone came here and like, stuffed this paper in that book just randomly?" I asked him curiously, nudging my chin towards the book placed near his crossed legs.

He glanced down at the book and shrugged again, a lock of his hair falling over his eyes. 

"I don't think so. Books like these haven't been pulled out in ages." And to put further emphasis, he slid his palm along the book cover before showing me the dust. "Most of the books here are imported from the town of Knightsridge. Maybe that paper's from there too."

I hummed in thought, looking down at the paper in my hands. It did look old and even the ink was smeared on some edges.

"Do you think music helps people?" I asked him, a bit quietly this time.

He pulled back the guitar on his lap and got busy tuning it. "I think so. Some people more than the others."

My eyes trailed across the music notes.

Maybe I know what that means.

°°°°°

It was a town Bake Sale.

I asked Luce to come with me but she had to work at the hospital. That didn't surprise me but still made me feel a bit sad. She seemed stressed out each coming day. Tired too. She barely came home at night, which I clearly knew since I stayed awake late. I rarely got to ask her when she even slept. It seemed to be just work that she thought about these days.

When I asked her to come along with me to the Bake Sale, she mostly sounded stressed and apologetic when she had to pass up on my offer. I told her it was okay. Even though I loved bake sale events and I wish that she'd agreed to come with me, it was still okay. I had Mrs. Hutchins with me anyway and she was a pleasant company.

"How about you and Luciana come over for dinner tonight?" Vera suggested as we slowly walked alongside the numerous stalls. "It seems to be a cold night tonight. We can maybe even do some mugs of hot cocoa. Warm and cozy."

I smiled. "And a stupid, cheesy movie. Marshmallows too. I'd love that."

Mrs. Hutchins laughed and we came to a halt near a lemonade stall. Blue lemonade. Mrs. Hutchins got in the line to get us both a glass of it while I told her that I'd take some pictures. I couldn't not take some pictures. Not when the bright sun up in the sky seemed to make everything look so much more colorful. I stayed near the exit of the stall, taking a few pictures from my polaroid camera.

It was when Mrs. Hutchins disappeared within the stall crowd that someone stepped right beside me, making me stiffen a little in response.

"Did you check out the lemonade?"

I blinked before turning my head and glancing at the girl beside me. Then my eyes widened a little when I realized that I had seen her before. The black hair, which were in soft curls now, the angular face--she was the girl I'd seen at the ice rink.

Why in the world was she talking to me? Had she seen me staring at her back at the rink when she had been crying? Or what if she had seen me picking up that article when she'd supposedly left the rink?

Was I fucked right now?

"Uh, not really," I replied, trying to make it sound polite. I wanted to step away but I didn't want to seem rude.

"You should. It's really good." She looked at me and her eyes were a really dark shade of black. She wasn't even smiling.

I blinked once again and took a small step back, noticing that she definitely had a few inches over me, and that was a whole lot intimidating for a person like me. Or perhaps it was just the heels she was wearing.

I hoped Mrs. Hutchins would come back soon.

"Okay." I forced an uneasy smile on my face.

She gave a quick glance over her shoulder as if aware that someone was behind her, almost slapping my face with her hair in the process, before facing me again. For some reason, her eyes seemed a bit wild.

"Do you want to try it right now?" She asked me abruptly.

I opened my mouth in surprise, raising my brows. "Not really. Actually, there's--" I got cut off when she gripped my arm and started almost dragging me towards the lemonade stall.

What the fuck?

"You'll love it." She said and I tried not to stumble over my own steps. She was pretty, almost the same age as me, and I knew this was a great opportunity to make some more friends. But I was also aware that it was mostly the pretty ones who were real psychopaths.

Once we neared the stall, she stopped and looked behind her shoulder once again. My eyes were wide as she blew out a small sigh, her shoulders slacking in relief.

When she looked back at me and my probably horrified state, she let go of my arm and her perfectly arched brows furrowed in response. "I'm sorry. I can get you a lemonade. Uh...wait a sec."

"I don't want a lemonade!" I sounded incredulous and I had to lower my voice when I noticed a few people glancing at us. "Really, I've already got someone there in the line to bring me one."

Her eyes widened a little at the sudden realization. "Oh. I'm sorry."

I shifted on my feet awkwardly. She did sound apologetic, but at the same time her face looked pretty impassive as if she couldn't care less. There was something about her that seemed unusual.

I directed my gaze at the people around me, deciding that I should probably say something before the silence turned out to be...too much.

"So...why did you drag me here?" I asked her slowly as people walked around us.

She avoided eye contact just as much as I seemed to be staring at her right now. It was weird. Very weird. And I wished Mrs. Hutchins would come here already.

"Are you new here?" She asked.

"Why should I answer your question?"

"You talk weirdly." She said, which was a very rude thing to say judging from her own mushed-up accent. I could've said the same but then again, there were polite people like me, and then there were rude people like her. "Weird in a good way. Are you American?"

I nodded. "Half. It was nice meeting you..." I trailed off, waiting for her to at least state her name and not be so impolite. But she remained absolutely silent.

"Maria!" An excited voice came from right behind me and I saw the girl in front of me stiffening yet once again. "There you are. I was looking everywhere for you."

She seemed horrified. I turned around, looking over at the direction of the voice, and saw a guy in front of me, probably the same age as the girl and me. He seemed like a model straight out of those teen magazines that I usually saw in the only hair salon Mum and I used to go to. 

Jaw dropping hot, if I were to be more specific. I'm pretty sure Tara would've agreed. Clearly, it wasn't just me thinking that since I spotted two girls practically drooling right behind him.

"Why do you look so horrified, love?" He grinned, flashing those perfectly white teeth. 

How fucking charming, I thought. And then I realized that he was waiting for a response from Maria, who was still silently gaping at him. I didn't know what I was still doing there.

Mrs. Hutchins was fashionably late in such situations.

"Oh, you're with a friend!" The hot guy from a teen magazine looked at me with the same swoon-worthy grin. I didn't know how to react. "Are you replacing your old friends so hastily?"

"Shut up, Theodore," Maria finally spoke up beside me, which was more of an angry hiss. I could've felt the tension; it was fairly awkward. "I'm telling you this one more time, and this is the last time I swear, fuck off."

I had this sudden urge to laugh at how bizarre this situation was turning out to be.

The hot, straight-out-of-a-model-magazine guy in front of me--whose name was apparently Theodore--smiled at her, as if he was used to this, and winked at me. 

"All right, babe. I'll fuck off this one time. I won't guarantee you about the next time, though," he said.

When he left, I realized my mouth was left agape. Did he just wink at me? Why the hell was that so hot?

I closed my mouth and raised my brows. "Weird. You all are weird."

Maria looked at me and it was mostly a blank look. "I'm sorry. It was actually that shit I was trying to run away from. But he...caught up with me." She stated, her gaze hardening as she looked back to where that guy had just been standing in front of us.

"Who is he?" I asked her. And since I get so straightforward in absurd situations like such, I also added, "He called you babe. Is he supposed to be your ex-boyfriend or something?"

"God, I hope not." She murmured, looking up at the sky. "That's Theodore Castellan."

"Oh," I said, still clueless.

She smiled at me and even though it wasn't a proper smile, I realized for probably the hundredth time how pretty she actually was. 

"I'd actually like to hang out with you more. You seem cool." She looked me up and down. "I'd...like to hang out with people who know nothing about this town."

I smiled back at her, but I couldn't help but ponder over her words. She knew Alastair after all.

"I do actually know nothing about this town." I shrugged. "But it's a nice one and...I'd like to know more about it."

She blinked and looked away and the next few words came out in a hushed whisper, almost as if she wasn't really talking to me. "And I wish I could do the opposite sometimes."

I didn't get to ask her what she meant by it, even if I really wanted to. Because right then Mrs. Hutchins came back with two giant glasses of blue lemonade and the conversation ended just like that.