Free Earth by Shauna Granger Page B

the vents. I snuggled against the seat, reveling in
the soft leather as it hugged my shoulders.
    School was unbearable from the moment I
parked my car until I finally pealed out of the parking lot in a
rush, kicking up loose gravel to the cheers of the muscle car gear
heads that had crowded my car and begged to see the engine despite
the rain. All day if people weren't asking about my car and
birthday, they were checking on me to make sure I was coping
alright with the absence of Jodi and Steven. Apparently I should've
been wandering the school halls aimlessly, weeping
uncontrollably.
    As I predicted, the rain came steady and cold
half way through French, pelting the windows in a staccato,
distracting everyone for a few moments, only to annoy Madame
Beaumont into giving us a pop quiz as punishment. And in each class
we shared, I couldn't help but glance every once in a while in
Jensen's direction and, as if by some magnetic pull, he always
seemed to look right at me just a half second later and catch me
looking.
    Now all I could think about was that he
must've thought I had been looking for a long time when he'd catch
me. He didn't seem to care when I caught him. I had the
sinking suspicion that maybe whatever about me that had enticed him
now scared him. I knew by History I was upsetting the stomachs of
half my class, but I just didn't care. I needed to get out and
distract myself to calm down.
    I knew going home would do me no good. My
mother would be there with the possibility of more expected
conversations and I had my fill of talking to people. I drove
without really knowing where I was going, mostly just going through
the motions, and eventually found myself, unsurprisingly, at the
bookstore. I loved this place. It had huge with a coffee shop on
the first floor full of my people, coffee drinkers and readers. I
hurried inside, ducking my head against the rain and dodging the
puddles. Inside I took a deep breath, enjoying the combination of
smells of fresh brewed coffee and paper.
    I made my way over to the wall of journals
and diaries first. I had reached the last page of my journal last
night with an unusually long poem in another bout of sleepless
hours. I took my time browsing through the different covers before
examining a couple, lined pages or blank, off white or white,
leather or linen. Eventually I decided on a beautiful green leather
bound journal with an interesting Celtic knot-work design embossed
on the cover.
    I went upstairs, past the Non-Fiction/Fantasy
section, and went straight to the New Age/Occult shelves. At times
like these it was nice to be a teenager; most people just shook
their heads when they saw someone my age in this section, thinking
we were just trying to be different. I pulled a few different books
on herb lore, Celtic deities, and potion making before going back
downstairs, getting a coffee, and settling into a table tucked into
a far corner. No one really cares what anyone else is reading,
but I didn't want to invite any questioning looks or whispers I was
sure to feel.
    I pulled out my old journal and set it next
to my new one, intending to copy down a blessing I had inscribed on
the inside cover in my new journal when the chair across from me
slid out and Jensen sat down, leaning back and crossing his right
ankle over his left knee. I knew it was him without having to
look.
    Everyone gives off emotion, even if it’s just
a sense of existing. Everyone except Jensen. One of the things that
had been bothering me about him was that I couldn't read him, no
matter how hard I tried. It was like he knew what I did and was
blocking me from being able to do so. It was a void in the back of
my mind, like walking into a room but forgetting why I'd gone in
there. So I knew he had shields around him that were so strong I
was surprised he had any energy left over to so much as walk
around.
    I sat there, pen poised over the blank page,
my left hand on top of my old journal, not yet having opened