"People can be cruel
They say I lost my cool
But it's very hard to keep my cool
When I'm around you"

- Brenton Wood

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Devlin's POV

I pushed harder and harder on the pedals of my bike, feeling my legs and chest burn. It took about five minutes for school to be out of sight and for the loud chatter to sound like a faint memory. I lessened my grip on the handlebar, instantly feeling better—lighter. When mixed with the sound of shifting gravel, the soft jazz music playing in my headphones felt even more soothing.

With every turn, I could feel the tension stripping away from me. I felt like everything had been forgotten, erased. Whether it was the things that I had said, or those I couldn't say. At that moment, as I biked on the gravel road leading to nowhere, was when I felt the lightest that I had felt in a while. That afternoon, the breeze seemed warmer—almost as it did during summer. It softly blew on my face and ruffled my hair, but I did not mind because I was free. As free as a bird out of a cage.

***

The sun hid behind the murky clouds, allowing its dim light to percolate through and hover over the tall buildings of the downtown area. The city, like a forest of bricks and metal shone brightly from afar. I followed one the roads that converged towards Square Avenue, the wealthiest neighborhood of Amberwood. The lively streets were teeming with activity. The chatter of the pedestrians who hurried to their destinations was dulled by sounds of the car that passed by.

I turned my eyes from the street to glance at the colossal poster that was placed on one of the recent skyscrapers. Even from below, I could see the face that it displayed and distinguish his stern and self-assured expression. Over it, was marked in big bold letters the name Daniel Fusco Sr., the city's most influential contractor and business tycoon. His familiar smug smirk did not waver. Similar to his son, Mr. Fusco looked down at me, never removing his eyes from mine, reminding me that in the grand scheme of things, I was a mere ant–imperceptible. Those kinds of billboards had begun to multiply by the dozen, slowly getting closer and closer to my neighbourhood. Their looming presence felt like a constant reminder that we were probably next.

I removed my eyes from this eyesore and continued to bike towards what was Square avenue. Over the course of less than two summers the entire area had become unrecognizable. The cheap housing that allowed hundreds of people to have a roof over their heads was now gone. And so were the small family businesses that filled the streets with sweet scents and my grandmother's restaurant. Everything had disappeared and over this cemetery of history and traditions had been built skyscrapers and malls, serving as an attraction for tourists.

I went around the square, but instead of turning left, I kept going forward, towards my house. I pedaled for a few minutes before reaching Rick's Music Box, a record shop. I left my bike in the cloistered alley at the back of the building and entered. As I pulled the door open, a bell above it rang, signaling that a new customer had arrived.

The store was empty, neither Rick—the owner— or the other customers were present. However, I could hear his voice from the backstore. As always his deep voice sang along to the jazz music playing in the speakers, meticulously matching the tone of the song. The wooden planks of the floor creaked under my feet as I approached the vinyl racks. I removed my headphones, allowing them to rest around my neck as I leafed through the various records.

Soon after, some clients began to enter the shop. The song coming to an end, Rick heard them and left the backstore. Still singing, he closed the door leading to the small room at the back.

"Devlin! Long time no see," he exclaimed as his mouth curved into a heartfelt and warm smile. "What's up?"

"Hey Rick! Not much, what about you?" I said, bumping my fist against his.

"Oh, you know, the usual. Everything's pretty calm," he answered in a confident manner."So what can I do for you? Are you looking for something in particular?"

"Not really. Just something soft and calm."

"Sounds like you're having a date, son. Who's the lucky girl?" He asked, turning away from the sun that came through the window. A light shadow had now formed on the brown skin of his face, making his deep set brown eyes and his black beard contrast sharply with the brightness of his smile.

I chuckled before saying, "No one. It's just for me." My laughter was an odd mixture of lightness and bitterness that vibrated in my throat. It didn't last long, but it was enough to attract some attention.

"The right one will come in due time," Rick assured me in a tone that made me want to believe him. He spoke as he acted—full of confidence and ease. He sounded as if he had all the answers, which was often reassuring. Sometimes, I wished that I could be more like him, think less and go with the flow rather than spend my time overthinking.

"Let me show you something. I received it a couple of days ago. It's an amazing piece. It's not for sale, but I wanted you to hear it," he said as I followed him towards the back store. He opened a box and handed me an album that he dug out.

"Is it an original?" I asked in awe as I observed the cover. On it was written the name 'Brenton Wood' under the words 'Baby you got it' in pale grey letters. In the background, bright hues of yellow and burnt orange created variations of dark brown, resulting in a colorful and cohesive ensemble.

"Yes, son." He smiled proudly and said, "you can borrow it if you want. Just bring it back to me someday next week."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Thank you, Rick. That's amazing," I marveled.

"No problem. Take care," he said before moving to another client.

"You too." I placed the record in my backpack, making sure to not scratch it or damage the cover. I zipped my bag and hopped on my bike once again.

At that moment, a light drizzle of rain started to fall from the steel-coloured sky. As if liquid silver, the puddles in the street reflected the white yellow and red hues coming from the lights of the car that drove by. The streets of Amberwood appeared to be vacant, with the exception of the occasional bypassers who walked under the faint rain. The wet glass of my spectacles caused their raincoats and umbrellas to appear like a myriad of colorful dots in the horizon–fuzzy, but somehow beautiful.

As the rain started to get stronger, some of the bypassers entered nearby stores and coffee shops. I thought of doing the same, but I quickly changed my mind. I barely had enough time to reach Amberwood High in time before school was over. I forced myself to ignore the discomfort that my damp jacket brought me and I pedaled faster.

I placed my bike at one of the bike racks on the side of the school and entered the building. I quickly walked in the clear hallway, hoping not to encounter a teacher on my way. The last thing that I needed now was for them to tell my mother that I was skipping school on the first day. I rushed to my locker and removed my jacket. I wiped the rain off my face with the sleeve of my shirt and rushed back towards the hallway, so that I could go to the library.

"Mr. Grey," a strict voice called out as I felt a hand tap my shoulder. I sighed and turned around, knowing that I had been caught.

"Shayana?" My eyebrows drew closer to one another as my eyes fell on her.

"You should have seen your face," she said, while laughing really loud. For some reason, I found myself smiling and slightly chuckling. Her laughter was oddly contagious. It felt raw and authentic as if she was showing me a part of herself. Something real for a change.

Her eyes slowly opened as a surprised expression made its way to her face when she noticed that I was still looking at her. I immediately looked away, chewing the inside of my cheek.

"I wanted to ask you some-" Shayana began, but instantly stopped speaking as noise coming from the other side of the hallway were heard.

Her hand wrapped around my arm as she pulled me in a small space between two lockers.

"What are you doing?" I protested, slightly jerking away from her.

"Shhh," she hushed me, putting a finger to her ear, telling me to listen.

I did as she said and listened to the clacking sound that appeared to get closer.

"Is somebody out there?" Mrs. Perry, the math teacher called out as her heels clicked on the floor.

Shayana and I pressed our back further against the wall, so that she wouldn't see us. We stayed like that for a while, silent and not daring to breathe, until we heard her steps leaving the hall.

"Thank you..." I told Shayana. I took a step back after realizing how close we were.

"No problem," she said as her lips curved upwards.

I flashed her a quick smile before walking away.

***

"I didn't see you today?" My sister inquired, but her tone made her words sound more like an accusation than a question.

"You were probably too busy making friends," I teased. She slightly smiled, looking ahead of her as we walked back home.

"How was your day?" I asked.

"Amazing, honestly. I feel like I really fit in. I even got invited to a party!" A large grin formed on her face as she spoke.

"That's good," I said, attempting to sound enthusiastic.

"Why'd you say it like that?" She asked in a defensive manner, her smile slipping off of her lips.

"Like what?"

"Like it's a bad thing."

"Because it can be. I mean... you know what kinds of stuff happens at their parties, right?" I told her, shrugging my shoulders.

"That's not even the point. They're my friends, but it doesn't mean that I'm going to become a carbon copy of them. I'm still my own person and I make my own decision," Fallon said.

"I know. I get it. I'm just.... just wondering how you're going to react when they do things that you don't agree with because you and I know that it's not a matter of if, but rather of when."

"Gosh, you sound like mom. I can't even tell you anything without you having to criticize it. Can't you just be happy for once?" She complained, her mouth stuck in a frown.

"I'm sorry, Lonnie. It's just that I care about you. I mean, you're my little sister after all. If I'm not the one protecting who will?"

"I know that you care, but I'm no longer the little five-year-old that you had to watch at the playground. I'm fifteen now and I think that I'm able to take care of myself," Fallon explained in a softer and more relaxed voice.

"I know," I breathed, nibbling at my lips. "I know..."

I stared at the road ahead of us pensively. I was stuck in my thoughts as I replayed all the events that had occurred. Some were good, others were just okay, but for some reason it was the ones that seemed to be the worst that replayed on and on in my mind like a broken record. Was I too much? Too intrusive? Too avoidant? Somehow there appeared to be no middle ground—no sweet spot. Just a whole lot of excess. I didn't know how to act or what to say. I didn't know who people wanted me to be and trying to figure it out was exhausting. Therefore, I chose not to speak. I remained silent, letting the murmurs of the wind do all the talking for me. It seemed to know more about what to say than I did anyway.

"Devlin?" Fallon said, causing me to glance at her.

"What do you think about when you're silent?"

For a second, I stopped breathing. Actually, I didn't even blink. It was a miracle that my legs also hadn't stopped working. That question had come like a sudden gust of wind–harsh and unexpected. I spent some time thinking of an excuse to come up with. But perhaps there was none. No reason why I couldn't get out of my head.

"I don't know... Everything and nothing all at once, I guess," I revealed.

"And what does that mean?"

"I don't think I've figured it out yet," I admitted.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Hey sunshines! Sorry for taking so long to update. I hope that this chapter was worth the wait.

As always I'm curious to hear what you guys think:

*Has your opinion of Shayana changed? If yes why?

*What do you think that she wanted to ask Devlin before she was interested by Mrs. Perry?

Gentle reminder to vote by pressing on the star.

Take care. Much love,

-A