Gray Zone (working title for a work-in-progress)

Young Adult novel

Autumn is nervous about starting a new high school, but also relishes the opportunity to start anew and lose that shy girl image that has followed her for years. And she could have easily created her new image, if she hadn’t run into a bully on the very first day.

Chapter 1

I was just about to take a deep breath—it took a lot of oxygen to make the big climb—when the tweet of my phone startled a snort out of me.

“Darn it,” I grumbled as I realized that everyone around me probably heard that snort.

I knew how things got started. It took very little to get a reputation as “the person who____”, where all you have to do is fill in the blank with something embarrassing. I was probably going to be known forever more as the girl who snorts, or even worse, they might give me a new nickname like Snorter Girl, or even Miss Piggy.  

All because my stupid phone chose the wrong moment to tweet at me. Just one little tweet that I am sure no one but me heard, but I bet everyone heard that loud, obnoxious snort!

I guess I should not blame my phone—it was only doing its job. And to be perfectly honest I guess I should not say it tweeted—it would be more accurate if I said it chirped. My parents, who were a bit out of date, would not allow me to have a phone that had access to the Internet. The only phone they would buy me was the old fashioned kind that let me text and talk. So tweeting, real tweeting, was definitely out.

The chirp, which was to warn me that I had received a text, had distracted me at a very important moment. One of the most important moments of my life. I was just about the make the big climb, the climb I had spent an entire week preparing myself for, the climb that would define my future.

Some people, like my friend, Sophie Rose, would think I was making a big deal about nothing. If she were here right now, I could almost hear the conversation we would be having.

“Do it already,” Sophie Rose would say. “Pick up your feet and move.”

“Don’t push me, Sophie Rose. I’ll go when I’m ready,” was my sure reply.

“You are such a chicken, Autumn!” Sophie would huff.

“I’ll do it, just give me time,” would be my witty come-back.

“Time for what?” Sophie Rose would scoff.

“I have to make sure I am ready,” I would again say, “I want to be sure I can do this.”

And then Sophie Rose would turn and look me straight in the eyes. “Autumn,” she would say, “you worry about the silliest things. You haven’t been preparing for this day for week, it has been nine years. Nine. Years!! You are ready. You just need to have the same faith in yourself that I have in you.”

“Besides,” she would continue, “if you stay here, you’ll probably snort again. And then you will have a problem.”

Sigh. Sophie Rose was such a good friend. Unfortunately, I could not have that conversation with her, because she was not here. She was off climbing her own mountains. I was all alone.

Not literally alone, of course. In reality I was surrounded by a milling mass of students, all intent on making the big climb with me—or over me, or through me, or around me. They really did not care, as long as they reached that all important peak at the top of that mountain of steps, the gateway to a new life, a new beginning.

I remained poised with my foot stuck a mere two inches above the bottom step of that all important staircase. I looked like a statue of a demented stork, fearful that the world would end if my foot made contact with cement.

But no matter how hard I tried, I could not lower my foot. It had a mind of its own and refused to budge. My foot was like a stubborn two-year-old, saying no, no, no, I won’t touch that step.

Or maybe, I thought as I looked at the steep climb awaiting me, it was like a wise old dog that could smell danger a mile away and would do everything in its power to protect its master.

Shaking my head in disgust I grimaced as I slowly lowered my raised foot back onto solid ground—onto the part of the ground that did not take me an inch closer to the top of that staircase. What I needed was time, time to think through my options and come up with a plan.

But there was very little time for thought, for just at that moment a flood of students washed by me, and it was only the feel of the solid ground beneath both of my feet that saved me from being sucked along toward the swirling whirlpool at the top of the stairs.

As the wave passed I breathed a sigh of relief. That had been close. I had almost been swept away, unable to resist the pull of the vortex that awaited at the peak of the climb.

“Good grief,” I muttered, rolling my eyes in self-disgust. I was an idiot, making such a mountain of a molehill, or at least, a staircase. I needed to stop thinking and start doing. Stop planning, and start going with the flow. There was absolutely nothing wrong with jumping into the stream of students headed in my direction and allowing the wave to wash me into the school. It was, after all, my destination.

I took a deep breath, raised my foot, and—

Chirp. Chirp. Chirp.

“Come on,” I grumbled, freezing mid-step, “two texts in less than two minutes? What is going on today?”

Again I found myself imitating a statue of a stork as I wondered what I should do. If the messages were important, I really should read them now. But if they were not important, I should not waste precious moments digging my phone out of my backpack. My future awaited, and it would not be wise to keep my future waiting too long.

Why was I being faced with this tough decision on the very first day of school? Why could I not have loads of time so I could easily check the messages, or maybe not get the messages at all? Or, even better, why could the school not drop that stupid policy that forbade cell phone use within the building? What did it matter to them, if a student took a moment here or there to check her messages? Who was it going to hurt?

One thing was for sure, I certainly was not going to run the risk of having my phone confiscated, especially on the first day of school. Once I climbed those stairs and entered that building, my phone would remain safely hidden in my backpack. Out of the line of sight of any cell phone police that might be roaming the halls looking for potential prisoners.

I should have placed my foot firmly on the first step and begun my climb, but I could not. I could not ignore the tickle in the back of my head that turned into a little voice. A tinny little voice, which kept repeating “read me, read me, read me” over and over. It was a persistent little voice with a mesmerizing message, and before I knew it I was pulled into a semi-hypnotic trance.

“I will obey, oh mighty phone.” I whispered. “Your messages shall be read.”

Just when my hypnotic trance was the deepest, the backpack of a passing student slammed into me, causing me to twirl around and lose my balance. As I spun on one leg, I tried to regain my balance by stomping the raised foot hard to the ground—only I missed. Instead of the ground, I stomped on a foot. A huge foot that belonged to a gigantic boy with frizzy hair.

I stared, mesmerized by the sight of my normal-sized foot planted firmly atop the foot of a giant. It would take at least three of my feet to make one of his.

I almost felt bad since my full weight had slammed down on the boy’s foot, but only almost. To keep all vestiges of guilt at bay I reminded myself that if this boy had not practically run me down I would not have lost my balance and stomped on his foot. He was the inconsiderate one, not me.

An arm right in front of my face moved suddenly and I realized that not only was this boy a giant, but he was a very muscular giant—a veritable mass of muscles which reached down to brush aside my foot and grab its own. I looked up startled and realized that this boy was so massive I could barely think of him as a person, until I heard his groan of pain.

“Ohhhhh, you klutz,” he groaned, “that hurt.”

Still half hypnotized by the call of the text messages, slightly dizzy by the twirling, and stunned by the size of this boy, I could not think so I simply stood there paralyzed.

“Aren’t you going to say you are sorry?” the mountain in front of me sneered, still looking at his aching foot.

I gulped, as I suddenly realized that this massive being could easily crush me like a bug. Afraid that he might look up and catch me looking at him, I jerked my eyes back down to the ground. The last thing I wanted was for this creature to see evidence of the fear that had begun to course through my body. Fear that I was I going to be trammeled on my first day of school, beat up right here on the doorstep, humiliated in front of all my peers. I was not a fighter, and if this boy started punching I would not stand a chance.

“Well, where is your apology, little girl?” growled the angry giant. “You stomped on my foot!”

I detested being called little, but decided to let it slide. Every molecule in my body knew I was in danger and needed to think my way out of this situation. I cautiously raised my head an inch to peek at the mass of students around me. Several were looking my way curiously, but none seemed prepared to help if it got ugly. I was on my own.

I needed to think fast. Either the pain in the giant’s toe was making him cranky, and therefore aggressive, or this guy had tendencies to be a bully. If he was a nice guy in pain, I should apologize sweetly and move on. But if he was a bully—

I remember reading somewhere that a bully was really a coward who was trying to convince everyone that he was a rough tough bad guy who was afraid of nothing. The trick was to stand up to the bully from day one so that he realized that you were not easy prey. If you showed fear, or any sign of weakness, you ran the risk of becoming the prime target on the bully’s radar. An apology would probably be viewed as a sign of weakness, especially since this guy had practically run me over in the first place.

But I hated being rude. I did not like judging people on their looks. Might I be stereotyping this guy as a bully simply because of his size, when the truth could be simply that his big feet and body are hard to navigate through a crowd?

I needed to think this through carefully. If I made the wrong decision, daily life would become pure torture.

But reading that bullies were cowards and acting on it when I was faced with this giant were two different things—very different. What if I stood up to him and he punched me? He was twice, maybe even three times my size? He could do some serious damage.

“So what’s it going to be little girl? Are you going to apologize, or do I need to teach you some manners?”

Teach me some manners? There was no way this was just some poor guy with an aching toe. His entire demeanor was not only bullyish, but boorish. A sweet guy he certainly was not.

Now was the moment of truth. What I did during the next few minutes could change my life forever. I had to decide what type of person I wanted to be, a healthy coward, or a beat-up hero.

I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders, and looked the bully straight in the eye. I would soon find out if it was the right decision, but I had decided to take the hero route.