The Story of Adeline May

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What A Family Reunion

I dream about mom and God the following night. I know, right? What a weird combination. Memories of my mom and some form of hatred for God. The ‘Alpha and Omega.’

My mom and I are at church, in my dream. I am sitting in a few rows ahead of her, like always. I look down at my clothes—which is usually a dress of some kind—but instead, I’m wearing a sports bra and boxers; what I was wearing when I found my mom.

I wake up a few moments after that.

For a week, I’ve had that dream. I always wake up before the preacher can start talking, thankfully. I think I would’ve been stuck in the dream, if he started talking, because he’d talk for a thousand years, repeating the same things we already heard, repeating the same message. Trust and believe in God.

Something in my dream, this time, acknowledges the fact that when I wake up, I’ll have to go to school. I see movement in the corner of my eyes and look at it. The clocking’s hands are winding down, moving closer to six thirty.

What wakes me up is someone shaking my shoulder, hard, the only reason mom’s face washes away. “I’m up, I’m up,” I mumble, pushing myself up.

“I’ve been trying to wake you up for 25 minutes, Rainbow,” Silas says with a chuckle. “I forget how heavy you sleep sometimes.”

I smile softly, looking around the room. Silas must’ve redecorated it. Before, he had Punk Rock band posters covering half the wall. All I see now is aesthetic collages—white and blue colors popping out the most.

A picture of me and him is hanging on the closet door, along with others of his friends, surrounding his mirror. I see a chalkboard behind him, my eyes locking on the small rainbow drawing beside his name.

I look up. “Love the new look.”

“Thought you might,” he says. “You can thank mom for—”

“Yours or mine?”

Silas’ eyes grow sad as he realizes his dilemma. Even though he’s my stepbrother, we are close. So close that he calls my mom ‘Mom’, and on occasion, I’ll call his mom ‘Mom’, too.

“I’m sorry.”

Before I can say anything, Elijan pokes his head in. “You finally got her up—good. Dad said we have twenty New York minutes to get ready for school. And he was talking specifically of you, Adeline.”

I roll my eyes and turn to Silas. “That’s not why you woke me up, is it? Being up early isn’t really at the top of my list right now.”

“Actually, I wanted to show you your room. You were exhausted last night—though, I have no idea why you’ve been here for a week and haven’t done a—”

“Why didn’t you just carry me to my room?” I ask, cutting him off.

Silas chuckles. “Remember when we were younger all you wanted in the world was to sleep in the attic?”

A smile stretches across my face, and I throw the blankets from me. I rush out of the room. Silas laughs. Having an attic-based bedroom has been a childhood dream of mine. I don’t know—something about a small bed against the farthest wall, a circular window above it with lanterns lighting the room always brings a nostalgic feeling to me. I gasp when I finally reach the top of the attic stairs.

The attic is everything I imagined it to be. A lot bigger than I thought it’d be.

There’s a king-sized bed to the left of me with green pillows and comforters. A small table with an alarm clock and lamp is beside it. Ahead of me is a plain white desk and a rolling chair with boxes of my belongings. I walk towards it. Reaching into the box, I pull out a photo of me and my mom. Of course, she’s the first thing I pull out.

The picture was taken at my thirteenth birthday bash—my face was covered in cake icing and my mom was behind me, her head back, frozen, as a laugh left her. I place a finger on the glass. A sad feeling pangs my heart.

I sigh.

“Five minutes!” Elijan shouts from the bottom of the ladder.

I place the picture on my desk. “Okay,”

With that, I shake the memory away. I walk towards what I assume is my closet and slide the door open. I ignore all my clothes from home, wanting to push the idea of home out of my mind.

Silas already warned me that in Nowhere, Vermont, it's different. There is no blending in here. If anything, you stand out for blending in (which honestly doesn’t make sense, but whatever.)

But unfortunately for the residents of this lovely ghost town, I don’t give a damn about that.

I reach for a long sleeve oversized crewneck. It hangs off my shoulder, showing the rose tattoo that circles my neck. I step into black biker shorts and my signature black vans. My hair net comes off next as my braids come into view. I quickly untangle them, bending over to shake my hair out. Once I’m done, I grab a headband and pull it over my head.

I reach for my already packed school bag, listening to the footsteps and grunts coming from the ladder.

“C’mon, Rainbow, we’re going to be late!”

This time it was Silas who came for me. I nod at him and follow him down. Watching as he folds the ladder up to the ceiling, the little cord dangling above his head, I send him a smile. He guides me down another flight of stairs and into the kitchen.

His mom, Mandy, smiles warmly. “Good morning, Rainbow,”

“Morning,”

“Sleep well?”

“Yes, ma’am,”

“Good, good,” she says, “well, I took the liberty of buying you a new phone since the police never gave you your old one back.”

“Oh, Mandy, you didn’t have to do that,” I say, looking down at the brand-new phone laying in front of her.

She slides it to me. “I know. I wanted to.”

“Well—”

“You ready to go?” my father’s booming voice asks from behind us.

I turn to him. He looks good. His usually moppy brown hair was now salt and pepper colored. His eyes are dark and cold, like Elijan’s, no longer holding the light they once had. I notice the deep lines along his forehead and cheek and sigh.

“Yeah. We’re ready.”

First day of school jitters.

When I was younger, I used to beg my mom to walk me to my classrooms. It was kind of a ritual for us—I’d be so nervouscited (that’s a word that Pinkie-pie made up; please do try to search it up) that I’d wake up at five to make sure everything was in order, for the day to come. Mom would coax me back in bed with a nice book and orange juice (with my medication). Then when I woke up again at seven, I’d get dressed and be downstairs, ready to go, in under five minutes.

My father and I didn’t have the same relationship.

When they were together, their world was centered around my father’s job as a police detective. Not around their marriage. Not around their kids—Elijan and me. Not around their lives before or after meeting each other—but around a job. A thing.

And with that being said, he was never there. I mean he was there, you know, existing. But he was never there; existing with me.

Today, I don’t expect anything to change.

Dad’s car rolls to a stop in front of the school gate. I hear him sigh as he puts the car in park. Elijan, Silas, and I start gathering our bags. As I’m about to push open my door, Dad grabs my elbow. I look back at him, my nose flaring in annoyance.

“I, um. I just wanted to say… I’m sorry. About your mother,” he manages to say as his face turns red.

I stare at him for a moment.

Emotion never came easy with us—my father and me. So, watching his face turn red and hearing those words echo in my head, I simply turn away and push the door open. I hear him sigh, and can’t help but sigh, too.

“Do you want me to show you around?” Silas asks me. “Elijan already left but…”

“No, no. I can manage.” I smile encouragingly at him. “Go with your friends.”

“You sure? They won’t mind if I—”

“Silas, go. I promise I’ll be fine.”

He sighs. I return his wave of goodbye and watch as he jogs away. He meets a group of people in the middle of the courtyard. One then gives him a fist bump, while another—a female—wraps her arms around his waist. I can tell he’s giving them the rundown on what has happened during the past few days. They all simultaneously turn to me.

But then I hear a wail. My head swivels toward the sound. There’s a guy on the ground, backing away from someone standing over him. He has an arm shielding his face. I’m moving towards them before my mind registers it. The person standing over him pulls back his fist—

—I catch it.

The person looks at me, confused and surprised. I push him back.

The guy chuckles humorlessly. “Move,” he says.

I say nothing as I position myself in front of the guy on the ground.

“Since you’re new,” he says, cracking his knuckles, “I’ll let you off with a warning. Next time: when I say move, you move.”

Next time, I won’t hesitate to break that arm you’re so fond of,” I reply as I raise an eyebrow.

The bell rings before he can respond. He points his finger at me in a ‘touché’ kind of way as he backs away. I turn to the one on the ground and kneel in front of him.

“Are you okay?” I ask him in a soft voice.

He looks up at me and I freeze. His eyes are the prettiest almond brown eyes I’ve ever seen. His skin is flawlessly the same color, if not lighter. And, God, his lips look soft and plump, almost feminine-like.

He pushes himself up, brushing back his neck-length curly hair. “I’m f-fine.”

I reach for his fallen book bag, but he snatches it. As I stand up, I notice his slight blush and offer him a smile. “Well, I guess I’ll—”

I watch as he abruptly walks away, shaking his head. See you around.



Another chapter for you guys; I deserve a round of applause. What do you think about Adeline so far? I think she’s hiding something...

~xoxo, maya cyns

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