Talisman 01 - The Emerald Talisman

resting her head on my hand.
    What rotten luck. Why did he treat me like that? Was fate trying to tell me something?
    I looked out the window after shutting off my light and snuggled under my covers. It was partly cloudy, so I couldn’t see any stars to wish upon. I rolled over and yearned for sleep, but I couldn’t shut off my brain. It hurt inside; ached actually.
    I wanted to know why. Next time, if there ever was a next time, charming or not, he’d give me answers, or at least get an earful about what I thought about his wretched behavior.
    I groaned and pulled the covers over my head. Any normal person would get a grip and move on. But the panicked feeling inside made me question if I just lost the best thing that ever happened to me. How stupid to hang onto the past. But the brutal reality, raw and unkind, told me he didn’t want to have anything to do with me.
    I wished I didn’t care.

7 - FOG
    E ven though my eyes were closed, the early light of morning pierced them like daggers. All night I longed for happy dreams to escape into so I didn’t have to think about my pathetic life, but ended up with nightmares instead. Unable to sleep any longer, I rolled over to get out of bed and accidentally knocked Aladdin off in the process. She meowed loudly and sulked out of my room.
    I stared at the ceiling, wondering why I kept dreaming about mountain lions and evil people with red eyes and sharp teeth hunting me down with the intent to kill me. I wanted to just grab my pillow and scream into it, but I couldn’t find the strength and worried Luke would hear me.
    My tummy growled as I limped down to a cold, dark kitchen—the first time without the use of my crutches—and pulled my favorite tattered robe tighter around myself, disappointed to find the room empty. Saturdays were supposed to be big breakfast mornings, but Dad was still away on a business trip. My mouth watered thinking of fluffy scrambled eggs, sausage links, cubed fried potatoes and golden pancakes drizzled with lots of syrup. Somehow, the thought of toast and cereal just didn’t seem as appetizing.
    While the toast cooked and the coffee finished brewing, I watched the birds out the kitchen window bathing in the fountain. Something about how they frolicked made me want to sit on the patio and watch them.
    Maybe the fresh air would help me feel better.
    With my toast balanced on the top of my coffee mug in one hand and a fuzzy blanket in the other, I carefully walked outside and snuggled up on the wooden lounge. I rested my head on the back of the chair, closed my eyes and focused on the peaceful sound of the creek gurgling through the ravine. Normally, the ambiance would diminish my worries, but was clearly not going to soothe away my wounds today.
    I tried to think of a good reason why Nicholas had been so rude to me the night before, but drew a blank. It just didn’t make sense, almost like the Nicholas I first met and the one I ran into last night were two separate people. I wanted desperately to forget all about it—the fall, his eyes, how being connected with him made me feel so alive and safe, but I couldn’t make it go away.
    This wasn’t how I wanted to feel. I prided myself on my ability to handle my emotions better than other girls my age, being forced to feel their rollercoaster’s all the time. But one interaction with one guy and I’m just like them? I felt completely crazy, irrational and wished for a switch to turn it all off.
    I glared at the dying potted flowers scattered around the deck, trying to blame them for looking so needy. The last thing I wanted to do was garden, so I looked away, fighting their wilting-leaf guilt trips. But after a few minutes, unable to stand it anymore, I got up and grabbed a watering can. I figured maybe some gardening therapy would help distract my mind.
    Before I knew it, an hour had passed and I’d weeded, watered and even planted some bulbs for next year feeling a tiny bit better. I was dusting off my hands and admiring my handy work when Luke walked onto the patio.
    “What are you doing?”
    His happy-go-lucky nature nauseated me, so I kept my back to him.
    “Baking a cake,” I said with a smirk he couldn’t see.
    “Ha-ha. Very funny.”
    I turned and glared at him, giving him the don’t mess with me look which he should have been very familiar with.
    “What’s your problem?” he said half joking—half serious, but then he stopped chuckling after I kept scowling. The regret he