FirstLineFiction beta

from Contest #7

She's a local.  This was evident to anyone who saw her.  She stopped along the street to talk to everyone she met.  She had the same relaxed gait as someone who’d lived their entire life in Breckenridge.  So John could not figure out why he didn’t know her. 

                John had lived in the small, mountain town of Breckenridge all his life.  He knew everyone who lived, or had lived, there in the last seventeen years, except this girl.  Something about her, perhaps the mystery, was intriguing. 

                “Hello,” she chirped as she walked into the ski shop.  “Do you have any sunscreen?” 

                “It’s right over there,” he said, giving her a strange look.  She sauntered over to the display and began picking up bottles and comparing labels. 

                He walked towards her.  “I recommend the blue one, it protects from snow glare best.” 

                “Thanks.” She smiled.  “Is ten enough?” 

                “Ya,” he said, taking the bill she handed him.  She began to walk out of the store.  “Wait,” he called.  She turned back as he approached her.  “Who are you?” 

                Her smile faltered.  “Have a nice day,” she said, and left the store. 

                John went after her on impulse, pushing tourists holding ski poles out of the way.  “Wait up,” he called, jogging down the narrow sidewalk.  She took off further into the crow.  “Wait!”  He yelled again. 

                He lost sight of her for a moment, then spotted the same auburn locks he was searching for disappearing behind a corner.  He whipped around the same in pursuit and pinned a moving figure against the wall.  The two stood for a moment, hearts pounding, trying to catch their breath.  “I said wait,” John said. 

                “Why are you pinning me against the wall?” 

                John realized how they were positioned, his hands holding her arms above her head, their faces inches apart.  He let go and backed off slowly. 
                “Why were you chasing me?”  She asked. 

                “Why were you running?” 

                She thrusted her chin up.  “Alright, what do you want?” 

                “Who are you?” 

                “I can tell you who you are.  You are John Daniels.  You live on Acorn Lane, in the blue paneled house with you mother, whom you love but don’t get along with.  During the day you go to Breckenridge High and work in the ski shop on the weekends.  You have a dog named Johnston.”  She smirked.  “He’s cute.”

                “How?”  John asked, backing away. 

                She shrugged.  “I’ve been around.” 

                “You’ve been following me?” 

                “Don’t flatter yourself.”  She rolled her eyes.  “I slept in your backyard one night, under the porch.  You’re dog came over and laid down next to me.  I’ve been around town for a couple of weeks; I know pretty much everybody by now.  I learn fast.” 

                “You don’t have a home?” 

                “No, not here.”  Well, I was kind of hoping this could be my home actually.  This town is pretty much off the radar as far as I’m concerned, and it’s nice here, you know, cozy.”

                “Why are you hiding?” 

                “I never said I was hiding.  Can I go now?  I’m not answering anything else.” 

                “What’s your name?”

                She thought for a moment.  “Shana,” She said.  “I think I would like to be called Shana.” 

                John watched her go, but he didn’t stop thinking about her.  He didn’t know why, he wasn’t the type to obsess, but there was something about her.  She was exciting in a town where the usual gossip came with each new blanket of snow.  John kept his meeting with Shana a secret.  There had been an understanding between them that was both magical and fragile.  He couldn’t break that. 

                He lay in bed each night listening for a sound.  She had said she slept in his backyard once, perhaps she would come again.  One night, he heard it.  The noise was subtle, a rock turning and a yip from the dog.  He rushed to the porch. 

                A figure was outlined in the porch light.  “Shana?”  He whispered into the dark. 

                The figure shrunk forward.  “You caught me,” she said. 

                “I’m guessing you haven’t found a place to stay yet.”  John walked down the steps to the lawn where she stood. 

                “I’ve been here and there.”  She shrugged. 

                “You know,” he said, approaching her.  “I haven’t stopped thinking about the last time we talked.  You’ve got the entire town talking about you.” 

                She backed away.  “John, we can’t do this.  We shouldn’t even be talking.”   

                “Why can’t we be friends?  What can be so wrong that you can’t even have a friend?” 

                “You don’t understand.  There are people looking for me.” 

                “You can trust me.”

                “I’m not normal.”  She stepped further away and grabbed a nearby pine branch.  It began to glow brighter and redder until it burst in silent explosion, illuminating the yard. 

                “How. . .how did you do that?” 

                She shook her head.  “I’ve got to go.”  He blinked, and she was gone.

                A storm hit that night, snow flying harder than it had in years.  Tourists panicked and locked themselves in their hotel rooms.  Even residents grew anxious, fearing they would be trapped in their homes for a few days.  Snow banks piled up, but all John thought about was Shana. 

                John was sure she was in the storm, and when he thought about her being forced into such extreme conditions it made him sick.  He attempted to sneak out of his house, but was stopped by his stern faced mother who forbade him to leave, but she couldn’t stop him. 

                It was early in the morning, but he thought that would be better than going in the middle of the night.  He went straight for the Alpines, a hang out teens used as a party spot in better weather.  It was an abandoned Indian camp full of dilapidated structures; anyone needing a hideout would go there. 

                It took John twice as long as it usually would to get to the Alpines with the snow, even equipped with snow shoes.  Just as he felt the temperature start to drop farther below zero, and his arms and legs began to numb, he reached the camp. 

                “Shana!”  He shouted, his breath fogging in front of him.  “If you’re here, answer me!” 

                He heard a faded moan, and rushed towards the sound.  “Don’t worry, I’m coming to get you.” 

                “Don’t,” she said, pale faced and surrounded by scorched cinders.  “You’ll freeze yourself.” 

                “My house isn’t far, I’m carrying you.”  He had to hurry, she was losing consciousness.  “Don’t fall asleep.”

                John trudged through the storm with the girl draped across his arms.  He came crashing through the doors of his house, relieved to feel warm air.  His mother ran to where he lay. 

                “Where have you been?  You could have died!”

                “There are more important things to worry about,” he said, gesturing to the girl who lay shivering on the floor. 

                “What happened to her?”  His mother asked, consumed by new worries. 

                “We have to get her home; we can’t get to the hospital in this weather.” 

                “Put her in my bed and get as many blankets as you can.  I’ll make some soup, coco, and anything else I can think of.”  His mother hurried out of the room. 

                John gathered the girl up and placed her on the bed.  He turned on the heating blanket and waited.  Her skin was still blue and she wasn’t moving.  He pulled the blankets tighter and rubbed them against her arms, trying to create some friction. 

                Her eyes flew open.  “I told you to leave me.  You look half frozen,” she said, voice hoarse. 

                “You should see yourself,” he said.   

                She looked around.  “How did I get here?” 

                “I carried you.  Why did you let yourself get so cold?” 

                “The storm took me by surprise.  I ran into the camp for shelter.  Keeping things lit helped me for awhile, then I ran out of fuel and started getting cold.  I had nothing to eat, and that didn’t help.  It was cold, it just felt good to rest.”  She tried to sit up.  “I need to leave.”

                “You can barely move.  Stay here, regain some energy.” 

                She frowned.  “I haven’t stayed in a house in over ten years.” 

                “Well, this will be a nice change.”

                Shana got stronger as the storm died down.  The snow began to melt, enough that it was possible to get to town.  The same day it was deemed safe to leave, Shana was gone. 

                John’s mother was frantic.  “Where would she go?  Does she even have a place to stay?” 

                John was more relaxed.  “She can take care of herself, mom, trust me.” 

                He walked down to the ski shop after it reopened.  The door bell chimed around noon, and John looked up, preparing to welcome another customer, but instead grinned. 

                “Shana!”  He said, not bothering to conceal his excitement.  “What are you doing here?” 

                She smiled warily, perusing around the shelves.  “Just stopping by.” 

                He sensed her hesitation, and looked at her expectantly.  “Why are you really here?” 

                She came up to the counter and leaned towards him.  “I’m leaving town, John.” 

                “Why?  I thought you liked it here.” 

                “I do,” she sighed.  “The area is beautiful and the people are so sweet.”  She smiled at him.  “But. . .I’m not safe here.  There are people in town, walking the street; they look like everybody else, but I can tell.  They’re looking for me.” 

                “How can you know that?” 

                “I’ve got people from all over the world looking for me.  I know how to recognize them, and how to handle them.” 

                “If you know how to handle them, stay!  I can keep you safe.  We’ll tell the cops.”  The desperation in his voice was obvious. 

                She shook her head.  “Goodbye, John.  You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”  She leaned closer across the counter and pressed her lips lightly to his. 

                He watched her go, thinking about his options.  He took out the shop keys, grabbed supplies off the shelves, and locked the doors behind him.  He had a job to do, somebody to protect.  From the time he first saw her, he could never leave her again. 

back to Contest #7