Chapter 1
September 2014
“There she is!” cheers a voice over my shoulder. “I was scared that you would get on a plane and fly back to Bali, Riles.”
My eyes glance at the brown-haired sixteen-year-old boy who sits next to me on the bench without asking beforehand. “All right, you found me,” I say. “What do you want then?”
Jake snatches the book in my hand and closes it without putting my bookmark between the last pages I read. Knowing that he intentionally did it to annoy me, I don’t bother protesting. Good thing is that I just started reading chapter six, so it shouldn’t be too hard finding the last sentence I read.
“You’re torturing yourself again,” he announces confidently. “Why don’t you relax and refresh your mind? You’ve been sitting here by yourself for quite a while, Riles.”
“I was reading a book before you practically stole it from me. I was doing nothing but relaxing,” I reply. “Besides, I like being alone with my thoughts.”
“Sometimes our thoughts can be dangerous.” Jake gives back my book and continues saying, “By the way, I’ll be hanging around the diner if you change your mind and want to join me.” He smiles at me, then leaves without waiting for me to reply.
I don’t go back to reading the book. I stare at the pond in front of me instead, and then my thoughts linger on something else. The reason why my stepbrother said I needed to relax and refresh my mind is because I have been anxious these past few days.
About a week ago, I just arrived in Gradwell, a small town in Pennsylvania. I had to move from Bali because my mom decided to be with her husband of two months. I mean, it wasn’t a sudden move. Before they were officially married, Mom was always telling me that we would have to move to Gradwell to live with Jake and George. But even though she had warned me before, I was still not ready to leave my home.
Mom said it would be a good opportunity for me to meet new people, but I’m not on the same page with her on that one. Besides the fact that I’m not ecstatic about leaving my life in Bali, I have also never been friends with the term ‘moving’.
I haven’t always lived in Bali my whole life. Sixteen years ago, I was born in a small town called Braxton, Pennsylvania to parents who are both Indonesian-American. Until I was ten years old, I spent all my life in Braxton. Even though I spent most of my childhood in this country, I didn’t have a strong reason as to why I should be happy about being back here.
If I were to talk about my childhood, it’s fair that I talk about Asa Abernathy because he’s the one friend that deserves an introduction. Asa and I met on the first day of first grade, and the reason why I remember it so vividly is because he didn’t ask my name when we first talked to each other. Instead, he asked what I wanted to be when I grow up. I said I wanted to be a singer, which is funny now since the only time I sing is when I’m in the shower.
When I asked him that same question, his answer wasn’t to be a doctor, an astronaut, or a pilot—his answer was to be a superhero. He thought that by being a superhero, he could protect the world from crime and evil.
Since that first day of school, Asa and I have always been friends. I would always tell people that he was my best friend, although I didn’t quite understand what best friends were, except maybe thinking that a best friend is someone who does all your favorite things together; and that’s exactly where Asa’s place was.
In second grade, I had my first fight with my classmate, Charlotte Hollands. Even though some memories from my childhood are a blur, everything about her isn’t. It started with my English homework that was supposed to be graded by Mrs. Portman. While everyone else was collecting their homework, I was digging into my backpack, trying to find mine. Mrs. Portman wasn’t angry, but she was under the impression that I had left it at home. However, I was sure that I had put it inside my backpack.
Charlotte Hollands had a best friend named Madison Hunter and thanks to her, it was later exposed that Charlotte took my homework out of my backpack and hid it inside hers. Because of that, the two of them stopped being friends.
All actions are supposed to have reasons, but it was always different with Charlotte. She did it because she felt like doing it. She did it because she thought it was a funny thing to do. She’s somehow always found satisfaction in other people’s misery.
Among all the memories that involved Asa, the one I remember most, even till this day, is when we both had our first kiss with each other.
I was waiting for my dad to pick me up after we had been playing—along with some other friends—at Asa’s house. I didn’t want to wait inside, so I waited outside on his front porch, with him keeping me company.
“Ryla Rose,” he called me. He’s always called me Ryla Rose since third grade. He said it made him feel special because he was the only one calling me that. “What do you think kissing feels like?” I remember him asking all innocent.
We were in fifth grade, for pity’s sake. We were small and curious and dumb. So, I answered, “I don’t know. I bet it’s wet and disgusting; you get to taste another person’s mouth. Imagine if they had just eaten onions.”
“Do you want to try?” he offered without a trace of embarrassment.
Truthfully, I told him, “Yes, but I don’t know how to do it.”
By the time I know it, he leans in and places his lips on mine. It only lasted a few seconds—again, I remind you, we were ten. But it was my first kiss, so I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Before the kiss happened, I already had a huge crush on him. After it happened, I became more and more into him. I saw him as this dreamy boy, and with his beautiful hazel eyes and cute dimples, he was the handsomest boy I knew. I didn’t dare to tell him, though. We’ve been friends for too long for me to admit that; I was embarrassed. That was the only time we kissed, and we never spoke of it ever again.
A few months after that, I had to say goodbye to him. To Braxton. To everything.
My dad was an English Lit professor and because of his job, we had to move to Jakarta, Indonesia. He said it was only for two years and then we would return to Braxton, but maybe some other time, you’ll find out why my father wasn’t good at keeping promises.
When I told Asa I was moving, he was devastated, yet he understood the situation. He promised me that he would always send me postcards and that he would never forget me. He said he would wait for me, even if it took years for me to come back. The last day at the airport was the last time I saw him.
Just so you know, he broke that promise. I sent him letters, but he never replied to them, or maybe he never even got them. It’s painful to think about someone who used to be so close to you could just drift away so easily. Fortunately, I found a way to forget him because my new life in Jakarta was more than enough to take Asa off my mind. Sometimes I get flashbacks and memories of him just happen to cross my mind, but I choose to try to not remember them because it gives me a bittersweet feeling.
The story doesn’t stop there. That isn’t the only reason why I don’t get along with the term ‘moving’; there’s a whole other story for that. But for now, I decide to leave Fortuna Park, go to the diner, and accept Jake’s offer.
