Forever And Always by Christina Young (top business books of all time .txt) 📕

We’ve all made wishes, some, more dangerous than others. I never thoughtof mine that way. Maybe I should’ve. Love can be a powerful and deadly thing.Especially mine. For loving the enemy is like pleading for death. Though maybedying with him wouldn’t be so bad…..

Moving day. Again. And I don’t understand it at all. This is the third apartment we’ve moved out of in the last six months. My parents don’t have a lot of money and yet, they insist on moving all of the time. It doesn’t seem to matter to them how far away we go, or how expensive the new place is, only that we leave the old one.

                I have to say, I’m going to miss this place the most. California was so pretty; and the weather was nice year-round. Our apartment may not have been much, just a small two bedroom. Just enough for my parents Jane and Nick, and I. But it wasn’t the space that mattered. It was the few memories I was able to create while here.

                Immediately, I didn’t see a house anymore, I saw Halloween, and Thanksgiving, and Christmas. We had only been here since October seventeenth, but that was plenty of time to turn this apartment into a home.

                This time I didn’t care where we were going. I knew how this was going to end, and I wasn’t going to be torn away from a home again. This next place will always be just an apartment to me.

                “Come on, Vanessa! The moving van is already here. We have to go!”

                “Coming Dad.”

                I quickly grabbed the box of books, clothes, and a pillow- I didn’t know how long we would be stuck in a van- and walked down the stairs. As I went, I took my time to appreciate this place one last time. The furniture was gone, and the walls were bare, not that we had much anyway, but it was still home. The boring white walls, and worn out carpet had never been my favorite parts of the apartment, but, right now, they just screamed home. That was something I desperately needed- something safe, inviting, known.

                Once I got to the bottom of the stairs, I hurried outside to the spot where the moving van stood idly in the long driveway. Mrs. Randal gave a half-hearted smile and a wave from her porch across the drive. Her mouth sagged downward, into a frown, whether from sadness, or age, I didn’t know. Probably both.

                I had worked for her, for a time, doing odd jobs around her house. Her husband passed away a year or so before we had moved here. So, on occasion I’d wash her car, or mow her lawn, just for some extra cash. And of course nothing compares to the gratitude of being able to help someone out.

                I jogged over to the rather large van- much too large for our possessions anyway, and slid onto the leather bench up front. I set the box at my feet, and concentrated on the task at hand, to calm down. I could not, would not start crying.

                After a few minutes, I heard the back gate of the van crash down, and the lock slide in place. Almost simultaneously, my parents opened the doors and slid in on either side of me.

                “So, are you ready for this, Nessa?” my father asked me.

                “As I’ll ever be.” I mumbled.

                He didn’t respond.

                While I sat there, I realized that I didn’t have the time to truly get ready this morning. I looked up, towards the rear-view mirror, and took in my appearance. I still had bed head, and my blue eyes were puffy from lack of sleep, and tears. I reached down, and dug through my box until I came upon my hairbrush. I then turned back to the mirror, and began pulling the brush though my long, black hair.

                The ride was long and boring. We stopped only for food and gasoline, and for the first time I wondered where we were going. It wasn’t so much the where, but when. I was getting sick of these vans; somehow I ended up sitting wedged between my parents in some moving van, going who knows where, way more than I ever wanted to.

                After about seven hours on the freeway, we turned onto an off ramp. I looked up and found a sign that told me we were entering Silverton, population two thousand, four hundred, and ten. Great, another small town. I disliked small towns the most because they made me feel trapped in my life. I loved to live in big cities because they gave me freedom. If I ever got mad, or sad I had tons of places I could go to escape for a little while and have fun, but not anymore.

                I already felt trapped. The first thing I saw were rows, and rows of houses. They lined the streets like a picket fence designed to keep me in. There was no way at all that I would like it here.

                As we drove down the street, I began to feel like someone was watching me. Sure enough, there was a tall, pale muscular boy, probably around eighteen years old, staring right at me. Not at the car like he was surprised to see someone new. But at me, like he was expecting me. I decided to ignore it. The last thing I needed was to think of this town as scary. I mean it was already bad enough.

                “Okay honey, we’re here.” My mother said, turning to me.

                Gratefully, I hopped out of the van and stretched. It felt good to get some fresh air. Then I headed back towards the van to grab my box, along with a few others to take up to my new room. As I headed toward the front door I noticed something. This was a house! The first one I’d lived in for a long time. Momentarily, I didn’t care what it looked like, or where it was, this was a house. That alone was better than what I was used to.

                “Wow. And we’re going to live here?” I asked in a disbelieving tone.

                “Yes. Does that mean you like it?” Dad asked.

                I nodded vigorously.

                “I’m so glad you like it,” Mom stated “because we’re planning on staying here longer.”

                “Mom, are you serious?”

                “Yes. I’m happy to say that we won’t be moving away from here for a while.”

                I was so excited that I couldn’t even think straight. Finally I would have a home again. I didn’t care where it was anymore. It didn’t matter, a home is a home. After a few seconds of staring at it, I ran inside. It looked like a fairytale. Okay, maybe not with castles, and princesses, and unicorns, but it was my kind of fairytale.

                I don’t know if it’s enough to take back my first impression, but it is a start. This place was so far beyond the little apartment I’d been imagining for the past couple of months.

                After looking at the living room, I couldn’t wait to see what my bedroom would look like. I ran up the stairs, practically jumping over half of the steps.

                From the layout of the other rooms, I could easily guess which one was mine. It was perfect; not too big, not too small. It had a window with a view I just couldn’t get enough of- a charming little park. And a closet that could fit everything I own. The walls were a light blue; just looking at them reminded me of the sky. The floors were a nice, soft brown color; and combined with the walls it almost looked like I was outside. I was just so happy that this was all mine.

                As I was unpacking, I started thinking again, about why we move so often, and why my mom thinks we can stay here longer, and why we moved so far away, and why that boy was staring at me. It all made me very curious. I decided that I needed to know the answer.

                I tried to finish with my room as fast as possible, but it took way longer than I wanted it to. Down stairs, my parents were making dinner. It surprised me how fast they finished unpacking; it looked like we had been here for weeks instead of hours.

                I decided to ask my parents about everything over dinner. It might be easier than randomly blurting it out. So, when we all sat down and had our food I started the conversation.

                “Mom, Dad, I’m sixteen years old, I think I deserve to know what’s going on. Why do we move so much? And why do you think we can stay here longer?” I chose to leave out the other part.

                My mother gave a worried, but also somewhat relieved glance toward my father, as if to say I knew this would come eventually.

                “We wanted to tell you. You should have known long before this, but we couldn’t ruin this for you.”

                “Ruin what Mom? What couldn’t you tell me?”

                “The truth about who you are, where we came from, and why life is the way it is.”

                “And what is the truth?”

                “We’re witches.”

                “What? That doesn’t even make sense.”

                “Yes, it does.”

                “How?”

                Then, my dad picked up a fork and made it disappear! And two seconds later, it appeared on my plate.

                “See?” he asked.

                “Okay.”

                “Your father is a member the witch council. That’s our government. There was a rule that members of the council couldn’t get married nor have kids, but your dad was already married to me. He didn’t want us to separate so he lied. Later, I had you.”

                “Wait,” I cut her off. “Where did we come from, witches, I mean?”

                “We came from another continent, hidden by magic.” Dad told me. “When the war broke out, many realized that we could easily blend in with the humans.”

                “Soon after that,” Mom continued, “a war broke out between the different witch clans. Witches like to stay together. Often time’s whole towns are made up of us. All from the same clan. We were in Boston when it happened. We knew that it was dangerous to stay there because of you.”

                “What?”

                “The law was passed so that any one clan could not rise up against the council. They didn’t want the clans to be able to use family as leverage. We brought you here so that you would be safe. We have been moving a lot because we suspect they found us.”

                My mind flickered to the young man I saw on the sidewalk. But I dropped it. That was almost impossible.

                “Uh and what if they did find us?”

                “We would have to leave again. Either that or fight them.”

                “Okay, this is a lot to take in.”

                “It’s alright. We will figure this out.”

                “How Dad? When