Jocelyn
Hello, I am Jocelyn Addison Hawking, but most people call me Joss. If they even acknowledge my existence, that is. Long story, but I’ll explain in a moment. I am seventeen years old and in eleventh grade. I live in Wentzville, Missouri and go to Holt High School. I was born on February nineteenth, 2027.
You see, my world is different than the one that existed before I was born. In 2020, a witch placed a “blessing” on us. I am one of the very few people who believe it is a curse. Most people believe it to be a blessing, but I have my reasons to hate it.
The curse is a strange one. To explain it simply, there’s a Mark on everyone who was born after March of 2020. The Mark is pitch black, and can be anywhere on the body. The Marks shows us where our soulmates will touch us for the first time. Some people are unlucky and their Mark is on their face. Others are luckier and it’s on their arm or hand - something like that. When your soulmates touches you there, it lights up in breathtaking, magnificent, and resplendently terrific colors.
But I am unbelievably lucky. I don’t even have a Mark. One of my bullies from my old school in Florida knows someone who goes to the one I am currently at. They told them about my Mark, or the Mark I don’t have, and the person spread around the gossip. Now, everyone knows I am Markless. Most people just act like I don’t exist, but one terrible person bullies me. And that’s why I hate high school.
I think some people fear me. I think they fear the fact that I don’t have a Mark. They might think that if I don’t have a Mark, then soon others won’t, and then even more won’t, until Marks completely disappear. I know they don’t want that. Most people love the black splotches that adorn their bodies.
Anyway, this is my atrocious story. Enjoy!
When I walk through the crowded hallway of the high school, I try to make myself shrink into the background and blend in with the other students, but he finds me. He always does.
“Hey, Loveless!” Jake Brown shouts. Ah, such an original nickname for such an unusual girl. I speed up and try to avoid him, but it never works.
“Loveless, I’m talking to you!” Jake shouts again. I walk faster, but his hand closes around my upper arm. I jump in fear and stare up at him, wondering what he’s going to do this time.
“Loveless, I didn’t see you at all this weekend. I missed you,” he taunts, winking one of the eyes that terrify me so much. I start to shake and he laughs at the fearful look on my face. He takes so much joy from my fear. It’s sickening! Suddenly, a teacher rounds the corner, her eyes narrowing suspiciously at us. Jake backs away to his locker, and the teacher comes over to me, looking concerned.
“Are you okay, miss?” the teacher asks.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I tell her, smiling convincingly.
“Was Mr. Brown bothering you?” she asks. I shake my head, and the bell rings.
Saved by the bell.
I smile once more at her before taking off, trying to get to my next class on time. I pass Jake in the process, who shouts out to me.
“I’ll see you later, Loveless!” I try to make myself shrink and quicken my pace. I hop through the doorway of my first class right before the bell rings again and run to my seat. I place my binder on the desk and tie my pure black hair back in a messy bun so I can focus without my hair falling in my face.
I have one class with Jake in it, but that’s only social studies, where the teacher hates the students. She makes us sit in what she calls “island desks” where the desks aren’t connected to any others and we just sit at our own desk, alone and separate from everyone.
In this class (French) I don’t really know anyone. The teacher is really nice, but I don’t ever make an effort to talk to talk to anyone. I like to keep to myself, afraid that someone will reject me if I attempt to talk to them.
I go through the class, and every other class, like this. I don’t talk, and I don’t look twice at anyone unless necessary. No one pays attention to me, except for the teachers and Jake. I don’t want that attention though, and I try to divert it as best as I can.
At lunch, I skip getting food. It’s a waste of time and money. I don’t have the patience to wait in line, especially when I know that once I have my food, I’ll have nowhere to sit. Plus, the food here is absolutely horrendous, so why should I force myself to eat it?
I instead head down to my favorite place: the library. Here, no one can bother me. I can just read and relax, or write if I’m in the mood for it. It’s calm and toasty. It’s my safe place.
Why is it that I’m always in the library? Not that I mind, but I know other people think it’s weird. What the heck, people think I’m weird anyway! I shouldn’t give two piles of poop about what people think, yet I do.
A wave of sadness crashes over me from seemingly nowhere. I curse under my breath as I realize that I forgot to take my meds this morning. I guess that’s what I get for staying up all night last night reading. I woke up late this morning so I was rushing around.
I’m kind of nervous. Before I got on the meds, I was kind of mental. I had too many emotions rushing around my head to actually figure out what they were. The only thing I could decipher was that most of them were not good for me.
I sigh and grab a random book off of the shelf. I look down at the book before me and I’m actually intrigued. It’s Malala’s memoir. I’ve never really liked memoirs, but I’ve heard about Malala and her story. It’s really interesting.
I try to ignore the despair drowning me, but it doesn’t work. It just demands more attention. I suddenly remember that I have an emergency bottle of my meds in my car.
I sneak out of the library and out of the building, putting a large rock in front of the door so that it doesn’t close and lock me out. I quickly unlock my car and climb into the passenger seat, opening the glove compartment. I open it and pull the emergency bottle out. I dump a pill into my hand and close it. I put it back and open the car door. I dash back into the school, tossing the rock back out into the patch of grass next to it.
I close the door behind me and walk over to a water fountain. I tilt my head back and place the pill on the back of my tongue. I bend over and take a large drink of the warm water, almost choking as the water hits my tongue.
I head back to the library to grab my stuff and the bell rings. I head to my next class, already awaiting the moment I can go home.
Hours later, when school is out, I go to my car and start the engine before taking off. My car is a red 2018 McLaren 570S. I go to my afterschool job - the library. Like I said, I’m always in the library! This time, though, it’s the county library, not the school library. I love working there. I can just read unless someone comes in. I write, too, as I wait for someone to enter, but it’s usually never too busy. I can usually finish a book in two or three days from being here so often. Honestly, it’s more free time than I’d get at home, even though Mom and Dad are never there. Since they are always gone, I’m the one always cooking and cleaning, making sure everything is impeccably clean. I can be a perfectionist sometimes, but only occasionally.
I pull into the parking lot of the library and park in the back where only one car resides. Pushing open the door, I bustle to the front desk where my friend Kate waits for me.
“Hi!” I say as I put my bag on the floor under the desk.
“You’re just in time,” she tells me. “I need to go. Can you cover this shift alone?” I nod and she gives me a grateful smile before running off to her own car. I watch as she pulls away and grab the book from the library.
I’m deeply invested in my book when the bell rings, signaling the entrance of a visitor. I look up to see a boy about my age enter. I’ve never seen him before, so he might go to a different school or is in a different grade.
“Do you need help with anything? Perhaps finding a video game or book?” I ask politely.
“No, thanks though. I’m just going to look around,” he explains.
“Alrighty then. Come on up if you need assistance!” I chirp, putting on a fake, wooden smile.
“Sure thing.” He disappears into the shelves, searching for whatever it is he’s looking for. I set my book down and decide to start organizing the desk and counters before he comes back. I find the summer volunteer applications, but there are only two. I go to the back and start making copies of the paper.
When I step out to check and see if he was done, I find, to my embarrassment, that he is. I rush back to the desk.
“Sorry! I was just making copies of th-”
“It’s fine,” he assures me. “I wasn’t waiting for long.” I take the card he holds out and scan it before taking the book and scanning that too.
“’Shadow and Bone,’” I read. “Good choice. The whole trilogy was really good, but the first was my favorite.”
“I’ve heard that Leigh Bardugo is a good author, so I decided to try him out.” I hand him back his book, but he doesn’t leave. Instead, he leans against the desk, making himself comfortable.
“I didn’t really like his book ’Six of Crows’, but it might be because I couldn’t work my way through the start. I’m bad about stuff like that. I also was in the middle of a series when I tried reading it,” I tell him, laughing a little.
“Oh. By the way, I’m Cohen Forrest,” he tells me.
“Jocelyn Hawking, but I usually go by Joss,” I reply.
“Nice to meet you, Joss.”
“Likewise, Cohen.”
“I’ve seen you around school before,” he says.
“Really? I haven’t seen you,” I tell him.
“I’m not that noticeable. I’ve just seen that Jake Brown boy harassing you,” he says matter-of-factly. I flush and look down at my hands.
“He doesn’t har-”
“Don’t give me that crap,” he warns. “‘Loveless’? What’s all that about? And why do you get so upset when he calls you that? Is it because you don’t have a boyfriend or something? Or he asked you out and you said no?” he pesters.
“He calls me ‘Loveless’ because I don’t have a Mark. Anywhere,” I snap.
“Interesting,” he muses. I sigh and start to walk away, but he calls for me.
“Wait, Joss! I didn’t mean it in a bad way - I was just thinking about what that means!” he says frantically. I reluctantly turn around.
“It doesn’t mean anything. It just means that I’m a freak,” I tell him.
“Well, to sort of change the topic, my Mark has colored. It’s right here,” he tells me, gesturing to his left arm, but it’s hidden under his sweatshirt. “Like I said, it’s already been colored. But I don’t know by who. Someone bumped into me in the hall at school, but I don’t know who. Infuriating, right?” I laugh at his annoyed expression.
“You bet it is. But won’t the person who bumped into you get their Mark colored?” I ask him. He shakes his head.
“No. That’s where they touched me. I didn’t touch them, so theirs won’t color until I touch them,” he explains.
“You say ‘them.’ Do you not know what gender they are?” I inquire.
“Well, most people don’t know what their sexuality is until they meet their soulmates,” he explains. Funny. I’d think your soulmate would depend on your sexuality, not the other way around.
“Oh, shoot!” Cohen exclaims. “I have to go, my parents will be wondering where I am,” he tells me. I nod and he runs off. He hops into his car and peels away. I sigh and turn back to my book, but glancing at my phone I see that I have twelve missed texts from Mom.
MOM:Joss?
MOM: Jocelyn?
MOM: Where are you?
MOM: Jocelyn, where are you?
MOM: Answer my texts!
MOM: Your father and I have to talk to you.
MOM: You better not be out without our permission.
MOM: Get back here now!!!
MOM: Stop ignoring me.
MOM: I will call the police and have them track you.
MOM: Are you meeting up with a boy?
MOM: ANSWER ME!
JOSS: Mom, I’m working. I can’t go home
MOM: That’s what they all say.
MOM: You don’t even have a job!
JOSS: Yes, I do. I got one to pass the time since you and Dad are never home.
MOM: Where at?
JOSS: The library. Anyway, I’ll find out if anyone can come take my shift if it’s really that important.
MOM: Do that.
I sigh and send out a text on the group chat with the librarians asking if anyone can come cover my shift. The head tells me that I can just close it - it’s already nine thirty, only half an hour away from normal closing time. I send a text back saying that I will. I never noticed how late it was. I guess that I was really into my book before Cohen came around.
I grab my bag, my phone, and my book. I shoot Mom a text telling her that I’m leaving before I grab the keys and lock the doors behind me. I swing into the driver seat of my car. I put it in reverse and back out of my parking space. I go back onto the road and follow it until I get home. When I do get home, I open the door and sneak back into my room and put my stuff in my room before going to my dad’s office. We always go there when we have family “talks.” They mainly end up with Dad and I screaming and Mom in tears. We have a messed up family, but that’s how it has always been.
“Good, you’re here,” Mom says crisply, which scares me. She is always the more emotional out of them both.
“I am,” I say cautiously. She sends me a sharp glare - this is not the time to be a smart aleck. I close my mouth and sit in the chair I always sit in when we are in here. Dad turns to me first and says the first words of this match.
“Your mother and I are getting divorced.”
I stare at him in shock, and the most prominent thought flying through my whirring mind is why.
Why are they getting divorced?
“Why?” I croak.
“Your mother had an affair,” he explains without any emotion. I gasp and turn to Mom.
“Why?” I repeat. She’s already in tears, but she tries to speak through them.
“I-I don’t know!” she wails. “Your father was always at work, and I didn’t think he loved me! Noah said he does, and I believe him! Anyway, if your father had tried to take off work sometimes, then we wouldn’t be here!”
“Don’t you dare try to convert the blame!” Dad roars. “None of this was my fault. You were jealous and insecure about our relationship, so you ran off with another man!” Finally, some emotion from him!
“HAD YOU SHOWN EMOT-”
“NO! JUST BECAUSE I’M NOT ALWAYS OPEN ABOUT MY FEELINGS DOES NOT MEAN YOU CAN SLEEP WITH ANOTHER MAN AND GET PREGNANT WITH HIS CHILD!” Dad thunders.
“YOU’RE PREGNANT?!” I shriek. She simply nods and I stand and kick my chair in anger. “God, Mom! You can’t just do that!”
“DON’T YOU THINK I KNOW THAT?!” she screams. “I REGRET EVERY MINUTE!”
“Whatever,” I growl before storming out of the room. I slam the door behind me and charge up the stairs and into my room. I get in the shower and angrily clean myself. When I’m done with that,I get dressed and blow dry my hair. I braid it so it will be wavy when I wake up tomorrow.
There’s a soft knock on the door but I ignore it. I instead lock the door and sit at my desk, trying to work on my homework when the person knocks again, but louder this time.
“Go away!” I shout through the door. I hear someone sigh - I think it’s Mom - before footsteps tell me that she’s walking away. I turn back to my math homework and get started. My phone goes off, telling me I have a text.
MOM: We are discussing the incident further tomorrow.
I ignore the text after seeing who it’s from and finish up the last problem on my worksheet. Like hell, we’re talking about it! I’d rather walk on a firewalk of Legos! I’m angry, and there’s no way they can force me to listen.
I turn off my lights and collapse into my bed, thinking about the events of the day. I recall the conversation I had with Cohen and hope that he will talk to me tomorrow. I really need a good friend. Maybe he will be one to me.
