This chapter is dedicated to phoelexa. The book is finally here lol

scheduled for more editing

c h . o n e :

v i o l e t

I AVERT MY GAZE FROM A BOY DROPPING DOWN TO KISS HIS BLONDE HAIRED GIRLFRIEND. The thinnest sheet of paper wouldn't even fit with their measly amount of distance.

Instead I lean my shoulders against the edge of the bridge, focusing on the tattered banner in front reading 'Haunted House Attraction. Enter if you dare.'

Written with crooked black font, it is attached to a gargantuan mansion drenched in a coat of black while a broad cobblestoned bridge connects to the entance. A sooty moat encircles the structure itself.

"Xandria, stop daydreaming." Ynna's small voice cracks my train of thought. "Can you believe we're finally at the annual fair? It only comes by September!"

I give her a sweet smile as she decides to acknowledge my presence.

"You stop daydreaming, Ynna. You've been squealing at the fictional characters in Wattpad for fifteen solid minutes."

She flashes a guilty smile and hides the phone in her denim jacket's pocket.

But accurately, she's right. The candy colored lights iluminating the young black in the sky, the red and white stripes filling each tent, and children racing with buttery popcorn in their hands is proof enough.

It's too good to be true.

Every time my blue sneakers clash with the pebbled stones towards the entrace, I feel closer and closer to heaven -- when ironically, this is a haunted house attraction.

In front of us, a bald man in his late thirties gruffly collects each ticket and assesses everyone from head to toe. He stands behind his table while inspecting the bags of each guest.

When I reach my turn, I quirk my best smile and jubilantly extend my arm to hand the ticket.

"No ticket, no entry, sweetheart." he says simply with a trickle of laughter.

"What? My ticket is right he --"

I stop and gasp in disbelief.

The world loops into a 360 degree stagnant termination as memories of me working for that expensive ticket flash like an old black and white film.

Me daydreaming of the fair when I should be studying for a test. Me promising mom that I wouldn't ask for cash, that I'm responsible to collect my own budget.

All that is thrown into a mental trash bin at the back of my head, when I see that the ticket isn't there.

But as if on cue, a blotch of yellow materializes in the corner of my eye like a little scrap aimlessly drifting through the wind. A glimmer of hope maybe, because it's not too late.

My ticket.

I leap upward and attempt to seize it, releasing all my force and strength as I kick off the ground. But the speck of yellow gracefully drops to the murky waters beneath the bridge.

And that's when tears sting my eyes as I face my best friend.

"Ynna, m-my. . ticket. . ."

I expect a sympathetic, gentle look after I wipe a small tear, but a wide mischievous grin unfurls below her beaming gray eyes.

"Don't cry. . . we'll just have to sneak in," she exclaims, rubbing her hands together like a madman creating evil plans.

"No! Are you crazy? We're so gonna get caught!"

Her starry eyes scan my aqua blue ones as though I'm a floating word in the dictionary she can't comprehend.

"You still want to do it, don't you?"

"Duh! We're not going to let our precious spent money go to waste! I did not lecture mom and dad about independency all for a lost ticket." Her fingers encompass my wrist as she pulls me toward the entrance.

I almost let out the breath that I am holding when we enter.

Almost.

A hand grips me by the shoulders and flings me outside.

"NO TICKET, NO ENTRY!" the bald man barks.

How he even notices that with swarms of crowds slipping by, I do not know. Ynna is left in the chambers, as the wooden doors narrow in their closing.

Suddenly feeling bare and awkward all alone, I sheepishly turn around and walk away, biting my lip and reminding myself that people will stare if I don't keep my composure.

"Hold up missy, these guys have an extra ticket!"

Could it be?

I turn around to confirm his statement, and see three boys with friendly smiles. I retrace my steps in a bustle, holding on to the railing for support.

The boy in the center catches my attention. He flexes a prized twenty dollar yellow ticket in the air.

"You need a ticket?" asks the one in the middle. "We've still got an extra here," He wears a violet hoodie and sports messy black hair.

I don't know what sparks the fire inside me -- maybe it's his suggestive smile that curves upward, or the black locks framing his profile, or the deep shade of violet encompassing his body -- but whatever it is, my female instincts scream trouble.

"Dude, you don't have to get another ticket just to hit on me." I reply, too harsh for my own liking. My words obviously sting for his eyes glint in a shocked daze to see such an innocent looking girl utter those very words.

I watch his every movement while he rolls his eyes and mumbles something under his breath; to which I am able to catch the words crazy and waste of time.

"Don't bask in the thought that you're pretty, because let me tell you, shorty, you are not." he spat, sharpening every word.

Oh.

Well if this guy's looking for a fight, I'll give him one.

"Cntrol your mood swings if you can. I didn't know boys experience menstruation."

My words elicit him to ball his fists. He adjusts the glasses on his face and tucks his hands in the pocket of his jacket.

"We accidentally bought another ticket but if you don't want it, it'll be easy to find someone else willing to graciously receive our ticket."

The mature side of me says yes, while the latter emphasizes how he downright told me I wasn't pretty.

"Fine. Whatever." I cross my arms and get a hold of the ticket, the texture generating familliarity of my lost one only moments ago.

He shifts from left to right while he speaks to his friends. I am able to get a better view of his eyes.

Blue, I think.

But a trifling shade floods the speck of cobalt. There's a certain glint, a gleam that I am not wholly able to distinguish.

The glow surfaces between the fire of heat and the ice of the cold, balancing between the two.

It isn't blue, no, it's violet. Plain as day, etched in streaks of mauve and lilac. I just have to look a little closer.

My mind fabricates a cornucopia of fantasies; metaphors as to what this means. I don't want to be melodramatic in any way -- my brain's simply off to it's usual weird antics.

Maybe he's a stringent, closed boy in the outside, but a whole new person on the inside.

Maybe you just have to look closer, right?

That's it. I'm going nuts.