Chase chapter 1 part 1

ONE

Encounter

I dumped it. There’s many things you can dump; there’s many places where you can dump these things. You just pile them in a little plastic bag and throw them on somebody else’s shoulders. I dumped my life. On you. Enjoy.

* * *

Crisp August days deserve a hand of applause, thank you very much. To those who have ridden their bike after the most boring day of school, you know what I mean. The wind ruffling my choclate hair up, my long fingers pressed tightly against the bars. To finally get my butt out of that plastic seat, (which by the way, will probably have my butt permitly printed on it by the end of the month), makes me want to smile. Which, by the way, I am.

No, I might not look very sophisticated riding a rusty, old bike. And no, the ripped-up jean shorts and worn-out chucks don’t really add a feminine, chick look. But it’s me. And I’m me.

The only problem is… I’m riding my bike in LA!

Trust me, the noise is about as soothing and relaxing as one-inch nails on a blackboard. And the scenery is worse.

Obese tourists with flowery shirts and cameras dangling down their stomachs control this city. Literally.

And the air? Toxic. And not the Brittany Spears kind of toxic either.

But besides all that, it’s pretty cool.

I swore under my breath as a huge cargo truck pulled up behind me. I switched lanes, and let the truck go. That’s one bad thing about riding a seven year old bike on the streets of LA, you can get squished by many different vehicles, by many different ways. Ouch.

I hurried past a yellow light….and made it. So, some fourteen year old is riding her bike home, wonderful. I know. It’s not very interesting, which I’m aware of. That’s one thing I hate about my life, everything is so… expected. Like a movie I’m just watching again and again.

But I’m quite an odd person. A death wouldn’t be too unexpected for me even. I’m the kind of person who dares you to do dumb stuff, and you don’t do it, so I do. C.R.A.Z.Y. I even admit it myself.

A strong, delicious smell distracted me from being careful on the road. It was the snack stands. Oh, the snack stands. Sweet soft drinks, salty pretzels, steamy hotdogs. My mouth began to water. I blocked the pain out. If I would remember, I’d bring a few dollars with me, but I usually forget most small things like that. Or all things.

I finally broke free from all the snack stands and kept peddling north. After a while I swung to the left.

I feel so cliché at this moment for saying this, but nothing can stop me. Or at least just now, at this moment. My friends call me ridiculously brave. I call myself a risk-taker. Except in this life, there are no risks to take.

Nothing can stop me, but there’s nothing usually there to stop me anyway.

I was wrong. A red light could stop me. Sigh. Red lights were like mothers, interrupted and ruined everything. No offence to mothers. Well, I suppose I already offended. But don’t get me wrong, mother’s can be helpful, just in exclusive situations. Like paying the rent.

The red lights in LA take forever. Ugh

I turned my head for the first time somewhere else besides forward. A Mitsubishi, new, was sitting next to me, (can cars sit?). Sorry - I’m not very good with cars. My most advanced car terminology is horse power, new, and clean.

The woman inside the Mitsubishi was young, in her twenties. And blonde. She was thinner then me, and trust me, I’m thin. But that’s only because I have a good digestive system.

Her face was painted with makeup. To tell you the truth, it made her look worse.

I bet she could have anything she wanted in her life. Any man. Any house. Any outfit.

But I have to be the one stuck with plastic glasses. I have to be the one with a handful of blackheads on my nose, and even a ridiculous zit right flat-out middle of my forehead. .

Green light. The thought poofed out of my head as fast as I turned right to a smaller road, with less people. You could immediately see the changes in the new area. There were no macho tourists here. No dorky businessman. No noise that could fill up a stadium.

Thank god.

After a few minutes all the buildings, decreased to only family sized houses. It was peaceful, quiet. The part of my day I enjoyed most.

Two children played with a cheap beach ball in front of a small house. I examined them for a few seconds. There was a girl, and a younger boy. I could smell barbecue from the back, possibly a family reunion? Or a birthday party.

The kids were yelling loudly, giggling as they kicked the colorful ball up in the air. They were speaking in Russian - I think. The beach ball gracefully danced in the air, doing spins and turns so fast, no ballerina could out fast it.

It was beautiful against the light blue sky, the burning sun. Crap. I should of brought my camera. It would have been a great picture if I did correct lighting, did detailed editing on shadows and the background setting, and chose a good frame. I would have chosen a simple frame-I didn’t mention I’m a photographer, or at least trying to be.

Now, you probably expect me to be one of those people who just pick up a pencil and decide they wanted to be an author when they grow up. Or go to the movies for the first time in their life, and already are planning out their acting career.

Well, I am. Art is in my blood. My mom used to be an art teacher when we lived in the suburbs of California. She taught at Roosevelt Middle School, I was only about three or four then. That was when I still had a father. That was when my life was fun. Now it’s just messed up.

When my dad left, my mom and I moved to LA because we had no money. Mom was planning to just stay at Sunny Days, yes that’s the name of the neiborhood we lived in, and try to survive it. The bank took the house from us, and we had no choice but to pack it up and go. Mom opened up the Valdaz Café, and here I am.

There’s details. Plenty of them. But thinking about them doesn’t really help me get a better life, or mom’s. So we forget. And we did. And I think I have. Almost.

I stopped and took out my lime green ipod nano. It was dumb to plug it in when the house was only a few blocks away though. I shoved it back in the little pocket of my rough, off-white book bag, and tossed it over my back.

I continued riding, this time I increased my pace because cars came around every few seconds. A minute passed and I was on full speed, completely unaware of anything around me. I raced passed houses, laughing along the way.

Now this, this was the best part of my day. The part where I can ride my bike as fast I want to, and no one can stop me.

“Gah!”

I was wrong again.

I quickly got off my bike to help up whoever I just trampled, going full speed.

I looked down.

I knew I should of kept looking up because now a curse had been cursed upon me for forever and ever, and I knew it. The love curse. Yes, a complete “gah.”

If you’re confused, I just crashed into a really cute guy.

He was tall and lanky. He had smooth yellow skin, and dark brown hair hung to his chin. He had long thick lashes, and the most perfect smile I had ever seen. My Romeo. ( I ignored the pimple on his chin.)

And he must really be something to look at, because I don’t fall for guys easily. In fact, only once before, in seventh grade. His name was Michael O‘Connell. It didn’t work out.

“Er, I’m so sorry. I was just ugh, um… let’s just say there’s a lot of stuff going on in my head,” I said lamely. He laughed. Oh god, must his laugh be so perfect too?

I was going to stick my hand out to help him up, but to my surprise, he already was on his feet.

“It’s okay. Not to be rude, but you’re the third person whose ran into me today. The first accident, well, let’s just say it wasn’t destiny,” he continued fluently, “some drunk guy just happened to be standing right in front of me. Well things like that happen, right? Anyway, the second interruption was really cool actually. A movie star in disguise, I can’t tell you who though. Top secret,” he ended swiftly.

I felt like asking, “And how about the third interruption?” but I didn’t dare.

I took a moment to digest all the info he just gave me. He was talkative, obviously, friendly, and much luckier then me. Gets bumped into by a drunk guy and a movie star? That’s what I call different.

I hadn’t noticed we were both standing in silence for about three seconds, staring at each other. As I said, a lot of stuff goes on in my head.

“Well, I should go. Maybe I’ll see ya ‘round.”

I panicked. He was already leaving!? I mean, am I that ugly? I must be. But everyone I know says I’m so pretty that I shouldn’t worry about looks.

Maybe he just has a girlfriend and doesn’t want to be caught? Or maybe he’s a normal person and doesn’t want to be socializing with the girl that just crashed into him.

Think, Camilla, fricken’ think! Whoa, I’ve read way too many kiddie mystery stories.

“Okay, well ugh… see ya,” he said.

“Er wait, um, I think I know you from somewhere. Maybe you go to the same school as me?”

“Oh, I don’t know, but I ugh-”

“So um, I bet you’re having that kind of day?” I said randomly, trying to pull it off as a nonchalant question. Really it sounded tense, nervous, and as if a police was examining me to see if I was guilty or not.

He sighed. I could tell he was getting a little annoyed. “It depends on what you consider ‘that kind of day’,” he muttered, while his eyes were staring down at my muddy, holey chuck’s.

“I consider it to be a pretty good day, not peticulary ‘good’, but better then completely nothing, you know? At least something happened,” I explained in my oddish way of explaining things.

“Yeah… so I’m guessing you’ve been having ‘that kind of day’ as well, or at least my opinion of ‘that kind of day’.”

“You’re loosing me,” I said dumbly. He chuckled.

“I’m Kade. Or Kaden. Either way it stinks.” I giggled.

I giggled.

He moved his hand toward mine. I could feel sweat dripping down my neck. Crap. I must stink. Calm down. He’s just goanna shake my hand. I moved my hand up, and shook his. Kaden’s. His hands were large, but soft and smooth. It was hard to let go.

“I’m Camilla, freshman at LA High, and I love your name. My uncle was named Kaden, but he died of lung cancer a few years back ” I smirked. That one had actually come off as nonchalant. Jacob’s eyes quickly moved from my eyes, toward my whole face. He didn’t look anywhere down once. Good.

Oh, and about the uncle thing, I lie good.

I felt pretty confident of how he was feeling about me right now. But what the hell could he be thinking about me? Maybe witty, likeable. Or maybe even pretty. My big eyes made me look at least unique, right? I wasn’t fat at least, that’s good.

“Oh, that’s, that‘s awesome,” Kade said sartastically.

I giggled again.

“Oh, wait, what high school do you go to again?”

He wasn’t listening to me that well, is that good or bad? Good, he’s too busy staring at me. (A girl can dream!) And bad, he’s just flat out bored with me.

“LA High.”

“Whoa, I do too! And thinking about it, I think I have seen your face before. Maybe you’re in one of my classes,” Kade said. I would have felt hurt because he didn‘t realize I was in one of his classes, but classes at LA High are about forty students each. And besides, I didn’t realize he was in any of mine.

I then realized he said ‘I think I have seen your face before’ compared to what most people say, ‘I think I’ve seen you before.” Hmm.

“Yeah, maybe. What classes are you taking?” I asked.

“Oh, just a load of stuff. School isn’t my first priority, you know? But I take mostly honors stuff. I like journalism the best.”

I was completely stunned. This guy was cute and smart, and not to mention quite humble. Time to strut my stuff.

“I take a couple of honors, you know the basic, English, History. And I take Spanish four ‘cause my mom’s already Spanish. But I like photography a lot. I’ve taken classes at this art studio since I was ten,” I bragged.

No, my classes are probably not as prestigious as his, but at least my little strut doesn’t represent me as some dumbo.

“That’s so cool, photography, eh? What do you like best about it?”

“That you can just click away until you hit the jackpot. In photography if you make a mistake, you delete it. Unfortunately, life isn’t the same.”

“That’s a strange way to look at it. Actually, my philosophy is you can erase mistakes in life. It just takes a lot of effort to do it.”

Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! You can’t just flick your wand and clean up a mess like in Harry Potter. Mistakes are always remembered, except the small ones.

“You obviously don’t agree with me, why?”

“Personal experience,” I muttered. Ugh. Here’s comes the huge silence. Four, five six seconds. Fine, I’ll do it!

“Er, anyway, do you play any sports?” That was the worst thing I could of said. Really.

He laughed softly from my completely out of the blue question. “Yeah I do, soccer, but just on the school team. Er, my old school team. I’m goanna try out for the high school team next week or something. I play center mid. And you?”

“Crosscountry, I was the second fastest person on the team,” I bragged again.

“Do you think you could beat me at a race?”

“Depends, I don’t know how fast you are. But being center mid on a soccer team probably means you’re pretty fast. Like the quarterback of football,” I joked.

“Actually people call point guard like the quarterback of football.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that. By the way, just to get you straight, I’m not a very big soccer fan,” I admitted.

“Are you a football fan?”

“Nope.”

“Basketball?”

“Eh…”

“Softball?”

I laughed softly. He grinned. “No, I don’t do sports, just Crosscountry. Except I used to do ballet when I was six and seven.”

“I just can not see you doing ballet,” Kade said.

“I know, I can’t see myself either so I quit before I could move up to beginner.”

“Move up to beginner? I though beginner was the first level!”

“Yeah, me too. But introductory is the first level. Pretty much meaning I sucked.”

“No, maybe it was just because you were a little kid,” he suggested.

“Whatever, ballet is far down my ‘important’ list.”

“You have an ‘important’ list?” Kade asked curiously. I had an odd feeling he wanted to be on it.

“Er, yeah… um…”

“Um, hey, I sort of have to go to practice now, but I’ll see you around, Camilla,” he said.

“Wait, um, do you live around here? I mean, my mom owns this café, maybe I could-”

“Sorry, but I seriously have to go. Really sorry. Bye.”

Kade rushed off. It looked like he was goanna get fifty lashes are something if he didn’t get to practice on time. I sighed.