?LIBIA (Find my confidence)?
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Chapter Two.
After a long, long day, Libia ended up jogging home, her headphones in her ear, humming quietly to herself throu-gh her heavy breathing. She had to keep in shape for dance clas-s, it was the only rule her teacher gave her.
Besides the fact that she loved jogging because of the wind in her face and the liberation it gave, it made her feel somewhat normal. When she ran, she felt like a regular person, instead of a person so shy she could suffocate with it. Her ponytail bounced behind her, following with the beat of the music. She reflected on the day she had with a shake of her head.
Johnson, the boy in her science clas-s, wouldn’t st©p following her. He’d walk her from clas-s to clas-s, speaking to her, even though she rarely spoke back. She couldn’t count the glares she was recieving from countless girls, and she didn’t like it. Many a time she tried to hint that she didn’t want the attention, but he wasn’t having it. She was just lucky that Vivi had her sit with her and her group of friends. It seemed she was sitting at a table of missfits. All of them greeted her warmly, and she instantly felt okay with them. She knew that if she said something stupid, they’d laugh it off. She was able to relax.
But of course, as soon as she stood from the table and put her tray away, there Johnson was. She was seriously close to just taking off running, extremely embarras-sed that she couldn’t even look him in the eye.
She also had a few encounters with the boy who caught her. She later found out that his name was Damon Slain. A strange name. She figured out that she had science, art, math, and gym with him, although they were always seperated into different teams, devided by gender.
Libia sighed, knowing she’d have to go to work tonight. She had the unfortunate night-shift at the twenty four hour grocery sto-re down the road from her house. Usually she always went for the 10:00 or even the 7:00 but sometimes she was f0rç£d into the night shift.
She was surprised to see that the house was almost completely free of boxes when she walked throu-gh the front door. The living room was completely unpacked, looking nicely decorated, and the kitchen had been set up nicely.
“Mom? Ben?” She called.
No answer. She must have done this before she went to the hospital. Libia’s mom worked the night-shift at the hospital. From eight O clock to six she worked. She c@m£ home every morning a few minutes before she had to go to school, and usually she just crashed into be-d. Libia felt sorry for mom. She tried ha-rd to work for Ben and Libia..
Ben is her older brother. Usually he’s out of the house with his friends. After the move, he went out and quic-kly made new aquaintances. Libia just sat in her room re-ading.
Libia had no qualms about leaving my home town. After their father left, their mom nee-ded a fresh start, so she applied for a job at the hospital ahead of time, bought a house, and they moved. The only one who had problems was her brother. Ben got his personality from mom. He was a bubbly person that everyone loved, including Libia. Of course, he had good friends back home that he didn’t want to lose. Eventually, after one night of seeing their mom come home crying that she couldn’t take it anymore, Ben gave in, and agreed to move.
Their house was a nice, middle-clas-s, one story house in a suburban area. The living room and the kitchen were seperated by a bar, and a hallway in the kitchen led to two different be-drooms on either side of the wall, while the master be-droom br@nched out from a door in the living room.
Right now, all Libia’s be-droom held were posters of her favorite dance-style. h!pHop. Libia, despite her shy attitude, was always obsessed with h!pHop, even when she was a little girl. Breakdancing, as some called it, made her feel more alive, and less like the shy girl she used to be. She also had pictures up on her wall of her while she did her dance routines. But that was her clas-s back in her home town.
No one, not even her mother knew that she was in this clas-s. She always said that she was going to work when her mother asked. Her mother never c@m£ in her room, and when she did, as bubbly as she was, she wasn’t vigilant at all. She didn’t even notice the pictures. Not even her brother knew.
Not only was did it make her feel like she was finally doing something on her own, without the judgemental eyes of anyone, but she felt that if her mother knew, she’d make a big deal about it, and Libia hated attention.
She studied for a few hours, and then changed into a black, ti-ght shi-t and tan slacks.
After settling her books back on the desk, she gr@bb£d her phone and started out the door. She was startled when she bu-mped into Ben.
“Oh, hey Ben.” She greeted with a small smile.
He smiled back at her. “Hey Libbi. I want you to meet my friend here, Cam. Cam, this is my sister, Libia.” Libia looked behind Ben to see a guy around her age, with soft green eyes and blond hair. “It’s nice to meet you.” She greeted shyly, before turning back to Ben.
“I’m headed to work. Mom nee-ds those energy drinks for her shift tomorrow, so if you drink them tonight, make sure you replace them.” She ordered.
“Will do Captain.” He saluted her pla-yfully.
She gave a teasing smile as she saluted him back. “See you later. It was nice meeting you Cam.” She called in a soft voice, heading down the sidewalk.
“Be careful!” Ben called.
“Ha!” Libia said, rolling her eyes.
After a five minute jog, Libia entered the sto-re, waving to Val, her co-worker to signal that she was off.
Val let out a sigh of relief and waved back, beginning to gather her things. Libia spoke to her for a few minutes, before she left.
She and a few others were the only ones working tonight, and she was mostly just standing at the register, fiddling with the codes for different foods. Someone entered the sto-re, much to her surprise, but she didn’t look up as she bit herl-ip, trying to remember the code for asparagus.
“Hey Lib, you got a minute to look at this thing?” One of her co-workers, Bennett asked.
Bennett is an old man, his hair sh0t with grey and his eyes framed with wrinkles. Many times a night he’ll ask Libia to look at a machine he’s having a problem with – Libia has always had a knack for fixing things. Everything’s a puzzle to her.
“Sure Benny.” She murmured, walking over to see what was wrong.
She was busy, with wire cutters and a wrench, fixing the coin machine. There was a problem with the screen, every time you would press a bu-tton, the backlight would fli-cker.
“Libia?” She heard the unmistakable voice of Damon.
She paused, looking up. A small smile made it’s way to her face, more comfortable with herself when not un-der the eyes of hundreds of people. “Damon.” She greeted softly, her cheeks tinging red.
His eyes fli-ckered to the coin machine. “What are you doing?”
“There’s a problem with the coin machine. A short in one of the wires. nee-ds re-wiring is all.” She explained, pushing the panel back into place and shutting the door.
She stood up, brushing her p@n-ts off. “What are you doing here so late?” She asked.
He glanced down at the basket he had in his hand. “I’m with a few friends. They dissapeared somewhere…you know how to fix this stuff?” He asked, eyeing her skeptically.
She let out a soft laugh, taking his basket from him and taking it to the register. “Yes. All it takes is a little bit of puzzle-solving and tinkering.”
“Huh.” He said simply, watching as she began to ring up his items.
She looked up at him, abs£ntly sliding a bottle of soda over the scanner. “What?”
“You’re one of those people.” He said vaguely.
She crinkled an eyebrow, giving him a timidly amused glance. “One of what people?”
“One of those super-geniuses. Tell me – what comes to mind when I say the square root of 35?”
“That’s easy, it’s five,” She answered immediately, and then added, “But I’m not a genius. I just study.” She shrugged.
He let out a laugh that was surprisingly loud. “Sure.”
She didn’t answer, mostly because his laugh was like silk. It s£nt chills down her spine, but warmth flooded her veins at the same time.
“That’s twenty five thirty six.” She murmured, glancing up at him.
He pu-ll-ed out his wallet, handing her a fifty.
“So, I hear that Johnson kid has been following you around like a lost puppy.” Damon commented as she counted out the change.
Her cheeks reddened. “I wish he wouldn’t.”
Damon raised an eyebrow, so she explained, “I don’t like attention, especially when jealous girls are involved.” She murmured.
Damon was definitely intrigued now by the strange girl. He watched her hair, which she’d let down from it’s ponytail, fall over her shoulder as she reached down to gr-ab something from un-der the counter. The black shi-t she wore was skillfully showing off her soft curves. Her eyes – when they met his, which was rarely – were so soft and chocolatey brown that he could get lost in their depths. Right then, he wanted her. Not just in his be-d, as he’s had many before, but to be his. He wanted her to take the chance with Johnson, so he’ll leave her, and she’ll come running to him. He knew it was a cruel thing to hope for, but it would be the only way she would accept him. This was a process. Johnson breaks her heart, she runs to Damon, and Damon changes her – for the better – while also, in the process, makes her his. It wasn’t going to be easy, but Damon loved a challenge, and it was going to be a damn fun one.
Libia, oblivious to Damon’s devious thought process, handed him his change and gave a shy smile. “I hope you find your friends.”
He smiled back, although his was much more charming and confident, and it held a secret amusement, as if there was a joke that she was missing.
“Thanks.” He replied, ma-king sure their hands brushed when he gr@bb£d the money from her.
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