Catch Me

"And the letters

On this page

Are the prints

They leave

By the sea.”

The crowd burst into applause as my twelve-year-old brother Robin lifted his gaze to meet the sea of people listening to him read his poem. Each word, each pause and each breath had been perfectly timed as we’d worked on it for hours in the days running up to the annual Gladstone talent show.

Tears of pride sprang into my eyes and I rapidly brushed them away with the back of my hand before standing in my seat and clapping for all I was worth. A wide grin spread over his face and he bowed once, twice, three times.

I smiled. Just like we’d practiced.

He then turned and scurried to the back of the stage before finally disappearing behind the curtains.

As the clapping died down, I reached for my bag under my seat and made my way through the row of filled seats to the side door of the bustling theater. Within seconds, it burst open, and Robin sprang into my arms, gushing:

“We did it!”

"You did it, kiddo”, I whispered into his ear, squeezing him hard.

“Let’s go home and celebrate.” He grinned, and we started heading towards the double doors at the back of the room.

But all of a sudden, the lights dimmed, and my attention was brought back to the stage. The crowd hushed as a figure appeared from behind the curtains and slowly walked over to the microphone. By the small spotlight lighting up the stage, I could distinguish a young man, who could only be a couple of years older than me, his face set in a determined expression.

I felt Robin pull at my arm slightly, but I couldn’t help but stare at the intricate set of tattoos adorning his arms. All the more fascinating was the ethereal aura that seemed to linger around him like a cloud of mist, his complete white attire only complementing this further. His mere presence seemed to fill the stage, and all eyes were riveted on him in a matter of seconds.

“Hayley...” I heard Robin whine.

“Just a sec”, I replied, letting go of his hand and moving closer to the stage.

He gave a slight cough to clear his throat, and murmured into the microphone, “it’s um...it’s an original.”

I heard him take a deep breath, and he started:

"Lungs that used to be filled with air

That breathed life and happiness

Now being filled with the murky water of sadness

Eyes that were bright with the joys of being alive and in love

Now see the beginning of the water level

The boundary between light and dark

Pure and tainted at once

The darkness is closing in, invading its predecessor

The water line blurs

But a form appears in the distance

Its nature uncertain for the gray tint of the water

It is perceptible only to those who want to see it

Those whose only need and want is to be pulled from this dark world

For it is light, holding out its hand in forgiveness

And if only the ounce of courage left can surpass all other feelings

For one second

It can reach out

Grab that hand

And together

They can overcome

All you need is an ounce of courage

Just one bit

And the light will do the rest

Because darkness is only stronger than light

When it is given reason to be.”

There was a moment of silence in which time seemed to be at a standstill, and then the crowd burst into a ripple of applause.

He bowed his head ever so slightly, a ghost of a smile on his lips,then turned and walked slowly back through the curtains.

I stood there, speechless, for what seemed like ages, before suddenly feeling the familiar pull at my arm which brought me back to the present.

I turned to Robin and smiled.

“Okay, let’s go.”

As we walked over to the back of the room, I couldn’t help but turn back one last time to where the stage was still lit in the center.

His magical presence still seemed to linger around the room, and as the clapping died down, the crowd suddenly felt a whole lot calmer than it had before.

I pushed open the double doors at the exit of the theater and we were immediately greeted by the biting December chill outside, and the lingering numbness that had been simmering inside of me vanished at once.

Robin lifted his arms into the air and gasped. It was then that I realized it was snowing. I instinctively reached my hand out and let a few snowflakes drop onto it, the warmth of my palm making them melt instantly.

It was silent outside, the snow already seeming to block out any sounds from the road or nearby houses; but suddenly the side door to the theater burst open and the loud chatter from the room filled the air for a few moments before being shut out again.

I turned to see him, the guy who had just read his poem, step out into the freezing cold, pulling his collar up closer to his neck in an attempt to keep out the chill.

Our eyes met for a second and I smiled, before turning back to admire the snowflakes that seemed to be falling faster every second.

“Makes it worth the cold, doesn’t it.” His statement startled me from my reverie, and it took me a second to realize he was also admiring the snow.

“It sure does.” I turned back to face him. “I liked your poem.”

“You liked it?” he echoed. His words took me by surprise.

“Why wouldn’t I have liked it?” He shrugged.

“Usually people are surprised by it, intrigued even, but to actually admit to liking it is quite uncommon. These types of poems always seem to be too dark and depressing for people.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Maybe it just strikes too close to home” I replied, gesturing to the buildings around me.

He gave a half smile, revealing a small dimple in the side of his left cheek.

“Isn’t that the point of it ? Art ?”

I smiled at him.

“True.”

“The bus is here!” I turned to where Robin was waiting by the bus stop and saw that the bus was rounding the corner of the street.

He cleared his throat.

“I guess I’ll see you around”, he said.

“Yeah, I—”

“HAYLEY!” I rolled my eyes.

“See you.”

Twelve and a half minutes later, we had arrived at the apartment block and finally reached the top of the stairs. Robin bounded across the hall to our apartment door, keys in hand, while I paused, leaning on the top railing and trying to suck as much air into my lungs as possible.

The lift in our apartment block had been out of order for over six months, and no-one had any idea when or if they were ever going to try and fix it. Meanwhile, I was the most unfit person I knew, and the two weren’t exactly a great combination.

You’d think having to climb five flights of stairs at the end of each day would have done me some good, but my ferociously labored breathing was the living proof that threw that theory out ofthe window.

After a few moments I recovered enough to push myself off the railingand walk a few more feet to my open apartment door, thanking the lordit was literally just opposite the staircase.

As soon as my feet crossed the threshold, the delicious scent offreshly baked bread hit my nostrils, and I paused, taking a minute tobreathe it in before stepping into the open plan kitchen-living-roomarea.

“Hey you, how was the show ?”

My father’s tall, gangly figure was bentover in the corner of the room, his face hidden by the cloud of steampouring out of the oven.

“Everyone loved Robby’s poem, obviously.”

He resurfaced from the depths of the oven with a smile, carrying a tray with a large crispbrown loaf of bread sitting on it. Robin was next to him, watching with intent as he deposited the tray on the counter next to the oven.

“Obviously”, he echoed, giving Robin a chuck underneath the chin.

I contemplated the scene, smiling despite the realization that it had one thing missing.

It had been almost six months since my mom had left us.

Don’t get me wrong, I had been extremely angry with her when I realized the impact it had had on Dad. He hadn’t deserved that.

But there was still a small part of me that kept believing she had a good reason for leaving. Who knows, maybe it was just the naïve part of my brain making me think one day it could all go back to the way it used to be.

Robin circled around the counter in the middle of the kitchen and stopped dead a couple of feet away from the living room couches.

“Oh.”

I frowned, and stepped forward a couple of feet to see beyond the wall that separated the hall from the living area.

There was a woman, slightly younger than Mom, with shoulder-length blonde hair framing her face and a smart gray pencil skirt and blazer, sitting on the couch furthest-away from the kitchen.

My first thought was that she might be there for business, a colleague of Dad’s maybe. But then I noticed how comfortable she was looking and, more importantly, the large glass of wine that was sitting on the coffee table next to her, and the fact that her shoes were placed neatly on the floor beside her feet.

I couldn’t control the confused “umm...” that escaped my lips as I took in the scene.

I heard Dad clear his throat from behind me.

“Hayley, Robin, this is Stephanie”, he said, by means of introduction.

“She’s a friend of mine.” A friend, huh?

“Hi”, said Stephanie with a warm smile.

I tried to smile back. I did. But I couldn’t find the will to make my face or body move in any way. All I could concentrate on way the way she was sitting, with her legs slightly crossed at the ankles. Exactly how Mom used to sit.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Robin make a dash for his room.

“Robin...” Dad pleaded.

“I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have intruded like this tonight”, Stephanie spoke up, her hands running down her skirt nervously. At the sound of her voice my brain finally switched itself on again, and I forced an uneasy smile on my face.

“It’s nice to meet you Stephanie, I’m Hayley.” I looked at Dad to see his face break into a relieved smile, and that was all the encouragement I needed.

“I’ll go and talk to Robin”, I said.

I found him face down on his bed, arms stretched out in front of him.I knocked and heard the expected, muffled “go away” before going to sit by his bed.

“It’s me, Robby.” I heard a small sniffle, and Robin emerged from the depths of his Captain America pillow.

“Why is she here?” he asked. I winced. He was reacting exactly the same way I felt, and yet here I was attempting to convince him to react differently. There was no point telling him exactly who she was in relation to Dad; I could tell we both already knew, and it would save us the grief of having to say it out loud.

“Do you love Dad?” I asked him. He gave me a look of incredulity.

“Really?”

“Robin”, I said, my voice laced with the stern tone Mom used to use in these situations.

“Of course I do”, he replied after a while. I sighed.

“So do I. Now what do we both have to do, after everything he’s done for us?”

Robin looked down and fiddled with a loose thread on his mattress. I knew he knew the answer, not just because we’d spoken about this before, but also because despite his age, Robin was extremely bright and seemed to have a knack for dealing with other peoples’ emotions.

Once, I’d had a really bad day at school, and had walked into the apartment and straight to my room, without a word. Surprisingly, it had been Robin who had asked to come in with a cup of green tea and a bar of chocolate. No words had been spoken, but we’d spent the evening eating and watching our favorite Disney films.

“Hmm?” I insisted gently. He looked back up at me.

“We try our best to make him happy.” I smiled.

“Exactly. Now come on, help me set the table.”

We exchanged a few pleasantries during dinner, and I found myself warming to Stephanie despite my initial reaction stemming from the loyalty I still felt towards my mom. I listened with interest as they recounted how that had met a couple of months ago.

I noticed that Robin was surprisingly quiet all the way through, and selfishly hoped that his reaction to Stephanie’s presence would make Dad think twice before moving forward too swiftly in his relationship.

It all turned pear-shaped when Dad’s chocolate-covered spoon slipped through his fingers and dropped onto his shirt.

We were all giggling and Dad had just picked up a napkin from the stack in the middle of the table when Stephanie spoke up:

“Tom, I’m happy you decided to make a good impression by wearing the shirt I bought you, but you probably should have thought twice about it when you planned the dessert.”

She gave a warm smile. “Don’t worry, all you have to do is pre-soakit in washing powder before throwing it in the wash and it should be good as new.”

A few moments of amusement passed before I saw Dad’s face freeze mid-smile.

He glanced up at me warily and it took me a moment to register what she’d just said.

“Hang on...“. I was pretty sure Dad had been wearing that shirt for longer than a couple of months. In fact –

“Didn’t you have that shirt before Mom left?” I asked, looking directly at him. But it was a rhetorical question. I knew exactly how long he’d had that shirt. He’d worn it for my graduation. I remembered because I had a picture of the four of us standing just outside my high school, me in my cap and gown and Robinpulling a face, on the table beside my bed.

My eyes flicked across the table to Stephanie, who’s mouth had formed a small O at the realization that their cover had been blown,then I directed my eyes back at Dad.

He bowed his head slightly and refused to look me in the eye.

Tears instinctively sprang into my eyes, but I refused to let them see past the anger that I was feeling.

I scraped my chair back and, without a word, stomped through the kitchen and into my room, where I collapsed onto my bed just as Robin had done under an hour ago. I let the injustice and betrayal wash over me, and soon the sounds coming from the kitchen became distant and blurred.

Dad and I had always told each other everything. There was not a single moment that I could recall where he hadn’t been completely honest with me, and as much as I had resented him for it at times, it had always been reassuring to know I had someone whose opinion I could trust.

And yet here I was learning of his very first lie – and a big on at that – and contemplating whether, through all those years of trusting everything he said, I had been wrong, and if this really was the first time he’d lied to me.

Most of all, I couldn’t believe he’d betrayed Mom. Because all the information that I had gathered seemed to point towards that particular theory.

I even found myself wondering if maybe, just maybe, Mom’s departure was not as random as I’d always thought...

A soft thud on the door brought me back to my senses, and moments later Robin was climbing onto my bed next to me. I shuffled higher up the bed to make room for him, and we sat there in silence for acouple of moments.

“I just”, he started eventually. “I just want everything to be like it was before.”

I gave a small nod, not trusting myself to speak.

"You were the one who said we should make Dad happy.“I winced at his resenting tone.

“I know Robby...I’m sorry.” My voice came out small and helpless. He gave a shrug.

“What time are you leaving tomorrow?” he asked gently.

“Way before you wake up” I smiled despite it all. He leaned over and wrapped his short arms around me.

“Love you, sis.” I squeezed him hard.

“Love you too, kiddo.”

Seconds later he was slipping quietly out of the door, leaving me to contemplate the few scraggly posters that still hung on my wall from when I was ten. My gaze flicked to my bedside table, where the offending graduation picture stood in all its glory.

In a split-second decision, I reached over, tipped the picture over on its front, and grabbed my keys and bus card from where I’d dropped them before taking Robin to the show. Before taking the time to wonder if maybe I was overreacting, I rapidly stuffed a few clothes and toiletries into my travel bag and hurried through to the kitchen. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Dad and Stephanie sitting side by side in the living room, and upon seeing me, Dad rose from his seat.

But I was determined not to make eye contact for fear of losing the thin thread of resolve that I had mustered over the last few minutes.

Scooping my handbag from the seat next to the front door, I called back to him:

“I’m catching the bus to Portland tonight. I’ll see you on Friday.”

“Hayley wait!” But I had already slammed the door shut.

The bus ride was long and tiring, and I had plenty of time to think through everything that had happened; which meant that upon arriving, I was determined not to think any more about it until Friday came, when I’d have to face the music.

I came up to the sliding doors of the apartment block and saw that the lights were still on in the small common room at the back.

Sure enough, the entrance was littered with plastic beer cups and the low beat of some pop song could be heard coming from the back.

As I made my way to the elevator I vaguely wondered how on earth they would get away with this on a Sunday night, and who on earth was going to clean it all up before tomorrow morning.

The elevator doors slid open, and I vaguely heard someone calling my name, but was too concentrated on getting up to my room and into bed that I ignored it.

Upon reaching my dorm room door, I unlocked it and, not bothering to even flick the lights on, I flung my bags on the floor by my bed, kicked off my shoes and finally sunk my head into my pillow.

A/N --> And there you have it ! The first chapter of Catch Me is FINALLY here !

DO NOT forget to vote if you enjoyed it and want to see what more could be in store for Hayley... oh and of course comment your thoughts !!

Happy reading, and I hope you all have a wonderful day.

Lara xxx

PS the first poem is from Francisco X Alarcon’s Words are Birds, and the second one is, as mystery guy said, an original.

PPS you’ll be seeing a lot of songs in the multimedia section from a band I love named PVRIS, be sure to listen to them mainly during the Hayley and *no spoilers on the new guy’s name yet* scenes, I’ve tried to pick them out accordingly ;)