The Beginning Of The End by Natalie Holmes (read the beginning after the end novel .txt) 📕

/> For a while she just sat there staring out the window in the door, watching the few students milling around the corridor looking for somewhere to spend their free period. They stood around in cliques in the hallways: the group of blonde shiny girls who always looked perfect and plastic with fake tan and fake eyelashes, the sports freaks, all muscle bound and infuriatingly stupid, pushed each other around play fighting and teasing the students who wondered around alone, the misfits, the strange kids who didn't quite fit in anywhere else but were happy to be in their own little group, stood in a close circle laughing and talking animatedly. Even the misfits didn't want to befriend her Harlow thought pitiably.

Rolling her eyes at her own drab thoughts, she instead turned her attention to her guitar. Her prized possession was a 6 string acoustic, beautiful deep green with a few band stickers stuck on it. It was her pride and joy and was the only thing in the world that was truly hers. She had worked so hard all through summer, doing odd jobs for people in the neighbourhood, mowing lawns, cutting hedges, raking leaves, painting window frames and fences, anything so that she could earn every penny herself and buy the guitar she had always dreamed of owning. And because it was hers, bought with her own money, her mother couldn't take it away, couldn't tell her she didn't own it if she didn't buy it so she could sell it for booze and cigarettes.

Harlow stroked it's smooth curves and smiled, the familiar weight of it always cheered her up. After a few moments of lovingly tuning the guitar, she started strumming until the random chords merged into a familiar rift. She'd always loved this Pink Floyd song, she could play it with her eyes closed. The lyrics resonated with her, and the melody haunted her conjuring up vivid images in her head. After playing for a while Harlow sung along quietly

"So... So you think you can tell.

Heaven from hell,

Blue skies from the pain"

For some reason she got a lump in her throat, leaving her unable to finish singing the verse. Harlow carried on playing through the wave of emotion, swallowing in an attempt to stop her voice wavering when she sang the end of the song.

"We're just two lost souls.

Swimming in a fish bowl, Year after year.

Running over the same old ground.

What have we found?

The same old fears.

Wish you were here."

As soon as those four last words left her lips, she abruptly stopped. Her hand was shaking and the last note she had strummed still rung quietly in the air. She had loved that song for so long but the intensity she felt right then was completely new. It was like some strange omen, she couldn't help but feel it was somehow linked to the perplexing dream. She didn't understand it but she knew that much to be true. What was going on with her? She felt like she was losing her grip on reality.

Harlow raked a hand through her hair, frustrated. How was she supposed to concentrate on her guitar exam when she couldn't shake the image of that boy, that figment of her wild imagination, from her head? She blew out a long aggravated breath and shook her head. She refused to let some silly day dream ruin this for her, straightening her back Harlow cleared her thoughts and mindlessly played the first thing that came into her head.

The sound of the door opening caused Harlow to jump, making her blush for being so on edge. Her music teacher, Mr Newton, walked through the door and put his briefcase down by the cumbersome desk that sat in front of the chalk board. He was a short man, only just taller than Harlow herself, with badly receding hair the colour of dishwater. Through the small round glasses perched on the end of his nose, his little beady eyes looked critically at her. Mr Newton wasn't her biggest fan, and they'd had many a difference of opinion. He thought the music she preferred to play was just meaningless noise, and though she greatly disagreed - and often told him so- for her exam Harlow decided to do something he would like. She would have done anything to pass.

Mr Newton took out a notepad and pen then sat behind his desk which was just a little off to the left of where Harlow sat. Leaning forward in the creaking leather chair he looked at her with mild distaste "Well, Harlow, you know what to do. Start whenever you're ready" She swallowed and stretched her fingers before beginning to play. After a couple of minutes she began to relax, it was so much easier than she thought it would be.

Smiling to herself she looked up briefly and straight into the eyes of the person walking past the room. Her fingers stopped working properly and a horrible discordant note loudly rung out. For a while she forgot how to breathe, her mouth dried up completely and her eyes bugged out of her head. It was him. How could that be? Harlow's head was reeling. He had only walked past for a second but she knew it was him, she could have sworn she saw the same surprised recognition in those blazing green eyes for a split second before he disappeared out of view.

An angry sigh to her left reminded her where she was, she looked over to Mr Newton, who looked less than impressed. "It seems you still have the lack of concentration you need to complete a simple task. All I needed was a four minute composition to give you a pass." He looked down at his notes, a frown distorting his small features. "It's going to have to be a fail, Harlow, until you can learn to keep your mind on the task in hand." Without another word, Mr Newton grabbed his briefcase and left the room, leaving Harlow staring after him open mouthed. Her temper boiled, she couldn't believe that all that hard work had just gone to waste. She wanted to scream, to run after Mr Newton and make him change his mind. All the anger and frustration made her forget about the strangeness of what had actually just happened.

She packed her guitar away and stormed out of the room. Harlow felt like her world was being turned upside down, her mother's negligence, her misfit status at school, the strange dream that was haunting her, and now she had just failed her guitar exam and was also pretty sure she had gone insane. The weight of it all piled on top of Harlow, the searing injustice of it all and her simmering anger stepped up a notch. Before she could talk herself out of it she ran through the school, disregarding the dirty looks from the other pupils, and headed for the main entrance.

She burst through the front doors and was almost immediately drenched to the bone. Ignoring the torrential downpour and the biting cold, she walked down a few of steps that led away from the imposing school building and sat down, out of view from the students inside. Cold water ran down the bridge of her nose, soaked through her clothes and plastered her hair to her skin. With her fingers pressed into her temples, she shut her eyes, refusing to cry, she tried to push the emotions down before they flared out of control. She hated feeling so powerless, like she had no control over her life.

She felt so lonely in that moment, like she had nothing. Like there wasn't anyone who cared about her. She could just disappear off the face of the earth right now and no one would even notice. Harlow was suddenly aware that the rain was no longer running down her face. She opened her eyes and scowled to see the heavy rain still pouring down. She looked up to see a bright pink umbrella over her head, looking back she saw the person holding it. Wearing an immaculate white Mac was a girl.

She was slim with subtle curves, her shoulder length curly blonde hair bounced gently, despite the gale force wind and her slightly tanned skin was flawless. The girls' eyes were a captivating blue, the colour of the sky on a hot summer's day, and her pink lip-gloss coated lips were held in an easy smile. "Hey" Her voice matched her appearance perfectly; it was sweet and sounded almost musical. "Err, Hi?" Harlow's answer sounded a lot like a question. She stood up and moved so that they were on the same step, and still the girl was a head taller than her. She eyed the stranger uncertainly. Unperturbed the girl's smile widened, she stuck her hand out and Harlow gawked at her perfectly manicured pink nails. Hesitatingly, Harlow gently shook it, her cold soggy hand in the girl's warm dry one.

"I'm Amelia, but you can call me Amy" Harlow tried to smile but it felt more like a grimace, "Oh, um, I'm Harlow" She let go of Amy's hand and wiped her damp palm down her hoodie before realising it was also soaking wet. Harlow didn't know what to do next, next to Amy's glowing beauty she felt plain and overly self-conscious. Oblivious to the awkwardness Harlow was feeling, Amy carried on speaking "I'm new here, just started today in fact. You kinda looked like you needed someone to talk to, and I kinda need someone to show me around" she laughed and the elegant sound reverberated through the air between them.

Despite her sombre mood, Harlow smiled. It was hard to not let Amy's upbeat attitude rub off on her a little, and it was nice to be able to smile and not think about the strain of the day she'd had. "So, aren't you late for class?" Amy said lightly as she linked her arm through Harlow's, as if they had been friends for years. "Oh, yeah, I'm not going, I kind of needed a time out" Harlow half-mumbled, avoiding Amy's eyes by staring at the dark clouds and the endless sheet of rain falling from them. "Funny you should say that, 'cause I was thinking of skipping class and heading into town for a coffee, wanna come with?"

The mischievous grin on her face made Harlow laugh, it looked so out of place on her innocent face. Harlow's eyebrows shot up "It's your first day and you're already skipping classes?" she asked incredulously "Sure, come on Harlow, take a walk on the wild side!" The way Amy wiggled her eyebrows when she said that made her laugh a second time. "You know what, screw it! Let's go" And with that Amy's grin widened and she pulled Harlow down the rest of the steps and away from the school.

Chapter 3 - Strange Occurrences

The hot liquid in the cheap polystyrene cup scolded Harlow's freezing fingertips. Her hair had stopped dripping but her clothes we're still saturated making her shiver, though the hot chocolate she was holding was helping to warm her. The little coffee shop they sat in was small and quiet; the walls were made up of dark wood panels, the same colour as the floor and ceiling, and though it was cosy it was a lot like being in a box. The tables and chairs packed into the small room were a little care worn, and any available space was filled with different kinds of plants, they hung from the ceiling, were placed on windowsills and stood on either end of the serving counter making the warm room