Nightmare in Niceville
Nightmare in Niceville
by
Amberle Cianne
Nightmare in Niceville
© 2011 Amberle Cianne. All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopying, or recording, except for the inclusion in a review, without permission in writing from the publisher.
First edition.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
Published in the U.S. by BQB Publishing Company
www.bqbpublishing.com
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN 978-0-9831699-4-9 (p)
ISBN 978-1-937084-42-4 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2011940348
Cover painting by Michael Mustachio
Book interior by Robin Krauss, Linden Design,
www.lindendesign.biz
Dedication
I
dedicate this book to my brother, Ryan A. Mustachio. He was a huge inspiration to me during this process, always pushing me along to get this done and to never quit on something that you love. Do what makes you happy in life, because in the end that's all that really counts!
I thank my mother Kristin and my father Mike for being so supportive of me in anything that I do. I thank all of my family and friends who have stuck with me for so long! And I thank you, the readers, for giving this book a chance!
Enjoy!
Contents
Epilogue: Lily Two Years Later
N
iceville. A quiet and peaceful sanctuary, for some. If you walked down any given street, you would find green grass, freshly painted white fences, and yard ornamentsâsome tacky, some not. You would see kids playing in their grandparents' yards and lazy dogs sleeping in the shade beneath the trees. People in love would ride their bikes through tunnels of giant weeping willows.
But, there were neighborhoods that only had palm trees, which was where I lived. Just a cul-de-sac neighborhood where people mowed their lawns more than they breathed. Except us, of courseâ the Strykes. We were the rebels of the neighborhood, and every two weeks we got a cheery letter taped to our door saying how our yard looked like an eyesore. There were the three of usâme, my mom, and my younger sister Ashley. Why would we want to cut the grass? And clean up dog poop in the hot sun outside? And be picture perfect? Well, at least we were close to the beach.
Niceville was a nice town, and of course there were a lot of friendly people. You couldn't be mean or rude in a place that had the word “nice” in it. That would practically be breaking the law!
All of us
nice
people were settled in Okaloosa County, located in the sunny state of Florida. I liked it in Florida: the beaches, the heat, it was all great. But this town, this city, this county, it was all too much. It seemed like we were living in a big, plastic bubble. Even though I was only a sophomore, I still looked forward to moving out and going to college. I would move far away from this odd little town. Very far away.
I guess the only thing I liked about Niceville was the weather and the scenery. I wanted to get out. I wanted skyscrapers, and snow, and ice, and big TV screens in the streets, and taxis, and tons of strangers walking past you every day. Not this small, gossipy, stuck-up, full-of-rules little town. I wanted to blend in and be unrecognized. I didn't want to be found by anyone from my past, not ever. New York sounded nice.
I walked down the hallway of my school, Niceville High. AP Literature: the last class of the day had finally arrived. It was one of my favorite subjects along with art and history. I mostly read fiction novels and poetry. In this class, you didn't have to be ashamed of reading or embarrassed about how much you knew about a book and sharing your opinions. Everyone could be equal here; most students could hold an intelligent conversation.
I walked into the classroom and smiled at the teacher, Mrs. Varner. She had bright red frizzy hair, big round glasses, and she was very skinny and petite. She wasn't too big on homework, so most people liked her.
She smiled and greeted me. “Hello, Lily, how are you?”
I replied, “Good, and you?”
“I'm doing well, thank you,” she said, turning back to her papers scattered across the desk.
“Lily!”
I turned to see Emily, my best friend, waving at me with a huge smile on her face. We knew each other inside out and backwards. We had been friends since the summer before fifth grade. In my opinion, she was so much prettier than me. She had shoulder-length, blond, curly hair and big, baby blue eyes. She was perfect. She had deeply tanned skin with no blemishes, a gorgeous smile, shiny hair, and expensive clothes. Me? My long, straight, brown hair hung limply over my shoulders, though the color complimented my emerald-green eyes. My eyes were my best feature. Emily was so outgoing, and I was shy most of the time. She was curvy, and I was stick straight. I didn't think I was unattractive, but she was just prettier.
“Hey, guess what?!” she squealed with delight in her soprano voice.
“What?” I asked, guessing that her high-pitched tone had something to do with a boy.
“I heard from Rachel that Max likes you!”
“Max, as in, Max Gareheart?” I asked, horrified.
“Yeah!” She busted out laughing.
“Nooo,” I groaned. “Are you sure?”
“I'm pretty sure,” she said, giving me a
Why did you even ask?
look.
“Why does he have to like me of all people?”
Emily put her hands on her hips like a mother scolding her child, but she didn't bother to hold back her laughter. “Because you're pretty! Duh!”
I rolled my eyes. The late bell rang, and we hurried to our seats.
To be honest, Max Gareheart wasn't necessarily unattractive. In fact, he was pretty good- looking. His skin was tan like Emily's, and he had warm brown eyes that reminded me of melted chocolate. He was polite and always dressed like he was going somewhere important, but in reality, he probably just sat at home doing his algebra homework. His straight, white teeth gleamed when he smiled. But he just wasn't my type, if I even had a type. I liked muscles with brains, not the other way around. And the guy had to be respectful. I guess I was picky that way, even though I'd never had a boyfriend. But in all honesty, Max wasn't really anybody's “type.” Emily liked the “bad boys,” and that was probably why she didn't ask me if she could flirt with him. If a guy was interested in me, but I wasn't interested back, sometimes Emily asked if she could flirt with them. I never minded, of courseâI wasn't exactly looking for a relationship. It just wasn't on my list of priorities.
Max had lived in Niceville his whole life, unlike myself. I had moved here in fifth grade. He was a “smarty-pants,” even in elementary school, and a lot of kids picked on him for that. His dad owned a huge company, and everyone wanted to be his friend. Throughout the years, Emily and I had been nice to him all along, which was probably why he still talked to us on a regular basis. I practically grew up with him, so it was hard to think of Max as cute. Not impossible . . . just hard.
The day dragged on like a slug on a hot day until lunch finally came around. I waited in line and avoided the pizza. I had made a vow in sixth grade to never eat school pizza again. Ever. I usually got PB&J or chips. I got chips today. PB&J always had too much P anyway.
“Hey, Lily.”
I turned around and saw Sarah smiling at me. She had shoulder-length, black-and-blond hair, and a few freckles on her round face. Her chin popped out a little, and her jawbone was very defined for a girl. She had large dimples even when she wasn't smiling. Sarah had a very mature way about her. Her dark brown eyes were what gave it away. No matter what the emotion, they always had a steady seriousness to them. She usually wore brightly colored eye shadow. Today, it was purple to match her shirt and shoes. Even the small stud in her nose changed with her outfits.
“Oh hey, Sarah. How are you?”
“I've been good. You?”
“I've been great.” I smiled.
The corner of her mouth lifted as if to smile, but her eyes seemed to lose their sparkle. She smiledâif you could call it thatâbut she seemed so sad.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
“Well . . . I've just been thinking a lot, and I guess I just want to say that I've missed you. Last year was fun.”
“Oh . . . uh, well I . . . miss last year too . . . sometimes,” I stuttered. “Sorry, I'm not good with sensitive things. I'll see you later, okay?”
“Sure.” Her smile lifted on both sides this time.
I didn't want to hurt her feelings, but I wanted more than anything to just go eat with my friends.
Last year, Sarah and I had been in three classes together. This year, we had none, which was probably why she “missed me” so much. Last year, we talked often. We never got really close like Emily and I, but we did have conversations about family, pets, and other random things. Sarah didn't have any siblings, but she had a dog named Brunson. After a while, I started feeling uncomfortable around her because she talked about her girlfriends, and then I felt like she had a crush on me, and well . . . I liked boys!
I took my regular seat next to Emily, across from Angela and Luke and almost the entire football team. You could imagine why lunch would be fun . . . and loud. Tons of gross burps, dirty jokes, cuss words, things that girls might actually find funny, girls and their “hot status,” and tons of mini food fights. The only reason the team sat over here was because Luke, their captain, sat here. Also, Emily was extremely pretty and popular, and who wouldn't want to sit next to her?
Luke was very handsome, his face well-defined with light brown eyes. His chin jutted out, though it flattered him very well. Luke was pretty confusing to most people. Usually, I was good at figuring people out. At first glance, Luke seemed like a typical jock, but he was really a sweet and caring guy. He was a natural born leader, and loved at our school. He made our football team one of the greatest in the state. Our team didn't bully the “underdogs,” and since the football team set the example for the rest of Niceville's sports teams, the other teams didn't bully either.
Everybody loved Luke, but they loved Luke and Angela even more. As a couple, Luke and Angela were a complete contradiction. Luke was this football team captain macho dude, and Angela was this shy, sweet, and innocent girl. They had been together for three years and couldn't be any more perfect together. I guess it was one of those “opposites attract” things. Luke had pulled her out of her shell a little, but she was still really shy.
Angela wasn't rude at allâeverâbut she was pretty withdrawn in new and social situations. She wore thin glasses on her round, child-like face and had very fair skin. Spaced-out freckles dotted her cheeks, and a few were scattered on her nose. She had a skinny frame, and she always seemed to slump her shoulders when Luke wasn't around.
In seventh grade, I'd worked on an English project with Angela. She was so shy then. She would mumble quietly with her head down, and never looked directly at you. She ended up doing the entire project by herself, because she wouldn't let me work on it with her outside of school.
On the day of presentation, I did most of the talking while she stood trembling beside me. The teacher stopped us and let her step outside. As she sped across the classroom, she turned her head and glanced at Luke, who was watching her with a worried expression. I was shocked, utterly shocked. Some girl had yelled, “She's so weird!” and people snickered. I wanted to open my mouth and tell her to shut up, but my throat felt tight and the sound was trapped there.
“Hey!” Luke's strong voice yelled. “Would you like being called names behind your back?” The class went dead silent. “I didn't think so,” he spat.
I cheered in my head. Angela and I were alike in a lot of ways. I was a new girl having to meet new people, and given my past . . . well, I didn't trust people easily. Being shy was a part of who I was, but me and Angela had both gotten over most of our shyness.
