Tomorrow Will Be Kinder E-Book

Katja Salewski

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 249

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Beschreibung

After moving away from London, Ichiro struggles to accept his new life in a small northern town with no one but his aunt and his dog to keep him company. That is, until he meets Cian Lanters. Ichiro finds himself being pulled into the dark mystery that is Cian, undoubtedly losing his heart to him. But it's not long until he realizes: the boy is battling something that is hard to be fought.

Leseprobe

To the people who show us that tomorrow is a day worth living.

“I know that love can be destructive, but then again, so are we.”

- James Andrew Crosby

Table of Contents

PROLOGUE – ICHIRO

CHAPTER ONE – ICHIRO

CHAPTER TWO – CIAN

CHAPTER THREE – ICHIRO

CHAPTER FOUR – CIAN

CHAPTER FIVE – ICHIRO

CHAPTER SIX – ICHIRO

CHAPTER SEVEN – CIAN

CHAPTER EIGHT – ICHIRO

CHAPTER NINE – CIAN

CHAPTER TEN – ICHIRO

CHAPTER ELEVEN – CIAN

CHAPTER TWELVE – ICHIRO

CHAPTER THIRTEEN – CIAN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN – ICHIRO

CHAPTER FIFTEEN – CIAN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN – ICHIRO

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – CIAN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN – ICHIRO

CHAPTER NINETEEN – CIAN

CHAPTER TWENTY – ICHIRO

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE – ICHIRO

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO – CIAN

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE – ICHIRO

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR – CIAN

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE – ICHIRO

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX – CIAN

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN – ICHIRO

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT – CIAN

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE – ICHIRO

CHAPTER THIRTY – ICHIRO

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE – CIAN

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO – CIAN

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE – ICHIRO

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR – CIAN

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE – CIAN

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX – ICHIRO

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN – CIAN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT – ICHIRO

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE – ICHIRO

CHAPTER FORTY – CIAN

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE – ICHIRO

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO – CIAN

EPILOGUE – 1 ½ YEARS LATER – ICHIRO

AUTHOR'S NOTE

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

About The Author

PROLOGUE – ICHIRO

Intro – The XX

Endings begin quietly.

You never really know it's the end until everything is done and over, and the moments in which you do notice are small things, tiny instants, rare seconds that are easy to ignore and even easier to overlook.

I have never felt such a moment before, so I can't say for certain, but it sure as hell feels like it. The world flies by outside of the car window and a heavy feeling settles in my stomach, weighing me down. It makes me want to shout at my aunt to turn around and bring me back home.

The instant is gone quickly, but the feeling remains, and it does feel like the end of everything.

I wonder whether I would have noticed if I hadn't happened to look up from my phone the second we cross the border to Whinsk. The car rattles and jerks over the bumpy street, passing old cottages, down-and-out shops, and something that might be the city centre, but it doesn't stop. I wonder if we will ever arrive at our destination – where ever that is.

Really, I don't want to. I don't want to see where I will have to spend the rest of my adolescence. Nothing will live up to what I had in London. Everything here looks grim and lifeless, empty, cold, but I can't stop staring until it's just a grey blur rushing past me.

That's when I see him for the first time.

The world focuses as my aunt Jenna stops at a traffic light and there is a boy on the street next to us, the first person I see, dressed in all black. Really, he looks colourless, even his dark hair and his skin, a black and white contrast on this grey road to nowhere.

Oddly enough, the boy blends into his surroundings, but still sticks out, maybe because all his lines are sharper. He just stands there, leaned against a rusty fence, hands pushed into the pockets of his skinny jeans, head tilted to the ground.

What a suitable first person to see, I think. Just as depressing as the rest of the town. We pass him just when he starts to move, and I catch a glimpse of a slim, sharp-edged face.

Then the boy vanishes in the rear-view mirror, and the end goes on, and on, and on, and it's silent, tiny, almost invisible, but inevitably an ending.

At least that's what I think because I don't yet believe that everything starts here. I don't want to believe that all my tomorrows are pressed into this moment, this broken colourless instant, but they are, and deep down I know.

If anything, I wish I knew that I would be alright, that I would be fine, that everything would turn out to be okay, but that's the thing about endings: you never really know where the new beginning starts.

CHAPTER ONE – ICHIRO

Dark Come Soon – Tegan & Sara

After a night that was too quiet to be slept in, I feel like I might spit poison if I open my mouth to speak. I miss the noises, the cars rushing down the road, even the sirens and crashes, but instead deafening silence surrounds me, even now in the late morning.

I sit in my room, staring at the narrow bare walls that are not mine. There's a naked light bulb on the ceiling, throwing ugly light down on the shoebox that is now my new room, and for some reason that bothers me the most. I want to close my eyes again, wake up from this nightmare, punch these walls until I feel something else than angry, but I don't.

Instead, I get up and pad down the hallway to the kitchen. My dog Pixel greets me happily and tries to jump up at me until I tell her not to. My parents didn't want me to take her with me but this was one of the fights I won. Or the only one, really.

“Morning,” I say as I see Jenna setting the table.

She looks up and smiles at me. “Good morning! Had a good night, Yuki?”

It takes every ounce of politeness inside me to not tell her off for using my middle name. “Not really.”

“Must be very different from home,” she says and shrugs. If I hurt her, she doesn't let me see it.

I nod and sit down. It must be weird to suddenly have a teenager in your house after living alone for years. She doesn't have a husband or kids, and we never really see each other except for Christmas. My dad said she doesn't get along with mum and I can't blame her.

We will probably get used to each other once she stops using the wrong name. Maybe I will like her better than my mother – which doesn't take all that much – but that doesn't make me hate this place any less. I already miss the space of our house, the brightness, my double bed. But none of this is Jenna's fault. I have to keep that in mind.

“Do you like sports? We can go have a look at the clubs they have here, you could make some friends in a team, couldn't you?” she suggests and I almost laugh.

“I'm not really athletic,” I say and help myself to pancakes. As if that wasn't obvious from my skinny arms and slightly chubby hips.

“What else do you like doing, then?”

I sigh internally. “Reading, I guess. Playing video games, watching films, teaching Pixel tricks. I don't really do much.”

Jenna brushes her wavy blonde hair back and gives me a little smile. I wonder how someone can look so much like a good mother and not have kids. “Then it might make you happy that there's quite a nice cinema here in Whinsk. And a good book store.”

I might not die of boredom, after all. Unless the cinema only shows documentaries.

Jenna pulls something out of her pocket and presses it into my hands. My fingers close around a few banknotes.

“I know you miss home,” she says. “Go buy a nice book for yourself.”

“Thank you,” I breathe, momentarily overwhelmed by her kindness.

I help her tidy up after breakfast, feeling guilty for being so grumpy, and decide to give the book shop a chance.

Today is brighter and busier. Pixel enjoys the weather and plays with the leash and I let her because I know she's hyper. There are more people outside, now that the sun occasionally shines through the clouds, and I notice that this town mostly consists of old people. The city feels like a skinny grey skeleton, stripped of all colours and wonders, leaving only the most basic frame behind when I walk through the narrow streets.

The book shop is almost empty and painfully quiet after the ding of the door, like a library, even though a shabby radio blares from the ceiling.

“Hello. Is it okay if I bring her in?” I ask the cashier who turns from a shelf once he hears my voice. It's a relatively young man with a flop of curly brown hair and an easy smile. He nods eagerly when his half moon eyes spot Pixel. “Of course!”

“Thank you.”

“Are you looking for something specific or…?”

“I'm just looking around, thanks.”

I escape the cashier and bury myself in the fantasy section from which I can see the door. There are two cosy looking red sofas and a coffee table surrounded by the shelves, and I decide to sit down there once I find a book. If I return straight away I will have to face the emptiness of my room or hang out with Jenna in the living room, and I am not ready for any of those things.

Head tilted to the side, I skim through the titles and run my fingers over the paperback spines. There is something incredibly calming about a room filled with stories. I would like to live in one. Maybe I will have my own library some day.

Finally, I pull out a book and sit down on the couch. Pixel wants to jump on it, but I tell her to lie down next to me, so she does, and I start reading.

I have just finished the prologue when the cashier comes over. “Would you like a coffee, too?”

I am pleasantly surprised by how much I like this guy. “Yes, please.”

“Sorry to bother you, but are you new here?” the cashier asks. I look for a name tag but can't find one.

“Yes.” I feel bad for not saying more but I can't think of anything. Small talk has never been a strength of mine.

The man smiles. “Welcome to Whinsk, then. Where are you from?”

“Central London.”

“Wow, what a difference.” The cashier is about to ask something else but the door jingles again, and he excuses himself.

That's when I see him for the second time.

The thin boy from the road comes into the shop, dressed in black skinny jeans and an equally colourless hoodie. The first thing that comes to my mind is the word emo and I chastise myself mentally for being judgemental. But I just can't find a better word to describe him with his straightened black fringe covering most of his pale face.

There are few people that actually look good with black dyed hair and I think he is one of them.

The boy blocks the cashier's attempt at helping and goes straight through to where I sit, glancing at me once before turning to look at the books. His expression is cold.

What a depressing human, I think, depressing but still strangely pretty.

Before I can ponder on what exactly makes him so handsome, the boy turns around halfway and glares at me.

“What are you staring at?” he snaps.

“Nothing,” I mumble and look down again, blood shooting into my head. Hardly here for 24 hours and I have already managed to embarrass myself. Well done.

In the minutes it takes my skin colour to return back to normal, the black haired boy picks a book, pays, and leaves. I glimpse his frigid eyes again through the shop window and turn away quickly, just as the cashier comes back.

“I am Jack, by the way,” the guy says as he turns on the coffee maker that stands between the comics and the kids section.

“Nice to meet you. I'm Ichiro.”

“Excuse me if I am too curious, but are you foreign?”

I sigh. “Half Japanese.”

Jack nods and hands me a steaming mug, and I set it down in front of me, adding some sugar.

I don't know if he expects me to keep the conversation going or not, so I just sit there, waiting. Pixel sighs contently next to me on the floor, only making the awkward silence more obvious.

“Just call me if you need anything,” Jack says and leaves with his own cup.

CHAPTER TWO – CIAN

Stage 4 Fear of Trying – Frank Iero

Today is crisp but not cold enough. I know winter isn't all that far now but I can't wait. Time does things to me and nothing is safe and for all I know, it might be my last winter, so I want it to be a good one.

Turning the pages of the book I just bought becomes harder, not only because my fingers are stiff from the cold, but also because the words blur and mix in front of my eyes and I have to really concentrate to understand them. I fucking hate days like these. The Bad Days. Where I can't run away from who I am, when I can't even distract myself.

The old oak towers above me like a soldier protecting me, but the wind rips at my clothes anyway. Somewhere in all the howling, a dog barks and I jump, angrily composing myself again in case someone walks by. I make myself look unapproachable as the dog barks again, closer now.

Then it comes into sight, a long legged, shaggy thing, brown-white, ears flapping, way too happy to see me. I'm scared that it comes closer, so I put on my coldest mask.

I don't have to wait long for the owner to come into view too, and I almost make an irritated noise. It's the boy from the book store. I hadn't noticed the dog back then, but it's him with his red sweater and brown hair and slightly Asian looking face. I am annoyed as soon as I see him. Or maybe I've been annoyed before. It's always hard to tell what the fuck I am feeling on Bad Days.

“Mind if I sit down here, too?” the boy asks and gestures to the other, empty, bench.

I stare at him, eyes hard and unreadable. If I waver, I lose. “Yes.”

“Excuse me?” the boy says and his confusion is almost funny.

“Fuck off,” I spit back and pretend to go back to reading but the words are swimming away from my eyes. I wait for the sound of feet carrying a body away from here but I don't hear anything but the wind and my pulse. I want to be alone. I need to be alone. My blood feels too hot in my veins.

I hear foot steps coming towards me and then the noise of someone sitting down on rotten wood. This time, I let the irritated sound out as I spot the boy on the bench across from me.

“Did you even listen?” I ask.

The boy looks up, brown eyes innocent. “Yes.”

“Then fucking go.”

“This is a public place.”

“Then why did you bother asking?” I make it sound like an accusation.

“Because it's polite.”

“If you were polite, you would leave me alone.”

“Maybe if you were, I would.”

If this was a Good Day, I would give him credit for this comeback. But this is a Bad Day and I am ready to break things, so I answer, “This doesn't work with me.”

“Too bad.” Finally, the boy gets up, calls his dog, and leaves. I feel like breathing in after diving too deep.

After my heartbeat returns to its normal pace, I pick up my book again but I can't remember where I was or what it's about or why the fuck I bought a new paperback when I'm having a Bad Day. Then I get so frustrated that I get up and smash the book against the tree until the paper tears and the cover falls off, and it's only then that I realize my hand is bleeding.

It's so hard to feel things when all my days are Bad.

CHAPTER THREE – ICHIRO

Toxic – A Static Lullaby

The next day, I am sitting on the small sofa in the living room, still slightly outraged about yesterday's encounter with the boy. The TV shows me something about a lot of people fighting and flirting, and it's kind of funny but mostly predictable and not enough to distract me from where I am.

Really, I should enjoy the time alone with the remote while Jenna is working in her study, but I'm not really in the mood for anything.

I still can't get used to the silence and smallness of the town and I still can't sleep. It doesn't help that the beginning of school is looming above me like an executioner. Given that I hate most people my age and that I am terribly awkward, I guess I won't make a lot of friends. Not that I wanted them, anyway.

I look at Pixel who chills on her dog bed, her paws neatly tucked under her body. In contrast to me, she looks like she has never belonged anywhere else.

“Wanna go outside?” I ask and her ears twitch. When I get up to grab my jacket and a pack of cigarettes, she jumps up and follows me.

“Knew you wouldn't let me down,” I say quietly and feel for my keys. I leave my phone where it is, wanting to tempt fate, even though I know that such a thing doesn't exist. I would never have done that in London.

Pixel runs down the stairs in front of me and I wonder how long we'd have to live here for them to ruin her joints.

The air outside is cold and slaps me in the face with force. It's easy to forget how far up north I live now when I keep pretending I don't. No more sunshine in summer, then. Not that I really care about tanning.

Pixel runs a few feet away from me, sniffing a patch of half dead grass in the drive way. It's already getting dark now but I don't mind it. I wonder if I care about anything right now but can't find a single thing.

I light a cigarette which is not easy with the wind blowing from what seems to be every direction, but I manage and inhale deeply. Even though I am just over seventeen, I've been smoking for a few months now. I don't care what it does to my body. Other things are more likely to kill me. My parents either didn't care or didn't notice. Not that they would've been able to stop me when they lost their influence by making me grow up on my own. I just need something to make time bearable when it's a rough day.

In less than 24 hours, I will have to face the youth of this hicksville and I am so not ready for that. So many boring people, staring at me because I am the new one. People trying to talk to me. I am not shy but I am not very social, either. I've learnt to live without much company, but I know from school in London that the new ones are always forced into conversations, questions, opinions. They are always new toys for bullies.

I push these thoughts away because they make me anxious and follow Pixel instead. Soon, I detect the smell of salt and seaweed in the breeze and quicken my steps.

The narrow street ends at the foot of a steep hill and I begin to climb it, calling Pixel to my side. The wind is getting louder and wilder the higher I get and on the top I actually fear being blown away. The storm is so strong that I almost feel salt water spray on my face, even though the sea is somewhere below me, down the cliffs. My own smoke gets blown into my face and makes my eyes water, so I finish quickly.

I take a minute to take in the view, which is pretty amazing, even in this weather. The sea stretches out and out, and the line of the horizon is blurry, connecting sky and earth. The water below is wild and loud, like a breathing animal, smacking itself against the stone walls where no beach is left.

I find a small path down the hill on the other side and follow it. Pixel jumps around me like crazy.

I arrive at the beach and the wind is even worse down here. The sand beneath my feet is damp, too heavy to be blown away, and there are hardly any foot prints. I hear the rush of the mighty waves, and the masses of water glisten in the dying light, the surface ever changing with the movement. The sun sets behind a wall of grey clouds, the day ending rather grim than romantic.

I motion for Pixel to run to make her tired and slowly follow as she bolts away. By now I know that this is my new favourite place.

The beach is vast and lonely as far as I can see. It's trapped between the cracked walls of the cliffs and the water but it's wide enough. There are benches in corners every now and then, and I pass a beach chair, but there are no hotels or houses. Seems to be the wrong place for tourism to be successful, but I like it that way. Some things need to be lonely in order to be beautiful.

My parents and I never really went on holidays except to Japan because both my mum and dad are workaholics, so having the sea in front of my nose seems luxurious.

I hear Pixel bark somewhere and I suddenly feel watched. Maybe I shouldn't have left my phone at the house.

I keep going and call my dog, looking around to see if someone else is here. I hear the bark once again and then she appears behind a crack in the closest cliffs.

“Found something?” I ask quietly and the wind swallows my words as if I'd never spoken them.

When I look into the niche between the rocks, I don't know what to feel.

There is a dark green bench that looks slightly broken and several kids have written insults over it or carved their names into the rotting wood. But on it sits the boy with the black hair, huddled into a thick jacket, a dark beanie on his head, his skin stark white in comparison to his clothes. He glares at me as soon as he notices me.

“Seems like I keep running into you.” I have to raise my voice to be heard over the howling wind but the boy doesn't react.

“What's your name?” I ask and step closer. This time I am not going to give up. Pixel looks up at me and whines, as if asking for permission to investigate. I don't give it to her. Not everyone likes pets.

“A bit cold to just sit there,” I try again, feeling painfully awkward. I don't really know why I'm doing this. The boy just looks at me as if his gaze could kill me but I don't want to give him the satisfaction of leaving.

“Fuck off,” the boy answers finally.

“I will if you tell me your name.”

“You don't need to know.” His voice stings more than the ever prominent stench of seaweed.

“But I want to.”

I hear the boy suck in a breath before he replies, “Stop annoying me and go away.”

I contemplate just sitting down next to him but that might cross some sort of line with strangers. Plus, I am not so sure that the other might not try to murder me, given the looks he sends me.

“What if I don't?” I ask.

“Will you fucking stop bothering me if I tell you my name? Or will you just keep asking dumb questions?” the boy spits. He's clearly in a very bad mood right now but I don't know if I'll ever get another chance. I am just so curious. Knowing the name is the first step to knowing the person themselves. It's not a secret that I always pick the wrong people to be friends with but I have never had many, anyway. I'm pretty sure that no one misses me back in London. At least not for long. I must be easy to replace when I was never special enough to anyone.

“I'll go if you tell me,” I reply and push my hands into my pockets to pull out another cigarette.

I see the other boy's eyes wander and the slightly disgusted expression on his face.

“Cian,” he says. “Now get lost.”

I want to answer with my own name but Cian pulls out head phones and stuffs them into his ears before I can think of the best way to introduce myself. He doesn't even look at me anymore when I lift a hand to wave and leave.

Cian. I don't know why but I find the boy kind of intriguing, even when he's slightly irritating. Well, probably because I want to know why someone would be like this. And I sure as hell want to know why he seems so angry. Maybe we have something in common.

The raven haired boy doesn't seem to be very interested in socializing and I have never had a lot of friends, either, have never been popular, have never been involved in the hierarchy of students that seems to be so important to all the other kids. I don't mind eating alone or studying alone. I'm not easy to put up with, I guess. I don't have much to give back. But I have also always been proud of not needing anyone. Having no friends has made me feel strong and independent, but also kind of dark, and sometimes, lonely.

In comparison to Cian, I suddenly feel like the nice guy for once.

CHAPTER FOUR – CIAN

So Cold – Nikisha Reyes-Pile

As soon as the Asian guy is out of sight, I rip the headphones out of my ears and stuff them back into my pocket. I have given up reading and I have had to give up listening to music too, because it makes me emotional.

I feel weak for telling him my name, even though names are the least personal thing you can tell someone about yourself. It feels like I gave away something that gives him power over me and I can't stand the thought. Especially not because that boy seems like the friendliest guy ever, the kind that still believes in true love and justice and belonging. I suddenly feel like he is all the things that I am not, which is strange because I don't know him and I hope I never will.

I stare at the sea, trying to forget about the boy, trying to forget that I have to go back to hell (aka school) tomorrow, trying to forget everything that is me and my life and my worthlessness. The wind is cold but never cold enough and the air is sharp but my thoughts are sharper, so there's nothing left for me to do but face my mind.

It's another Bad Day and I try to remember the last Good Day, when getting up was easy and going to sleep was easy and the time in between was easy, but it keeps slipping away. Was it this week? This month? Does it matter?

I wonder if there will be another Good Day before next year, before everything repeats itself, before I wake up to discover that I have made it through another piece of time that's subtracted from my life.

I get up and want to run away from all the noise in my head but my limbs are too heavy, so I just walk home. I haven't slept in 31 hours and the darkness tears at me like it always does and I ask myself if the Asian boy knows what it's like to be so numb. If he knows what it's like to hate yourself so much that you hate everybody else, too.

I don't get to answer myself because the moment I open the door to the house, the fucking darkness swallows me whole and presses in and clouds everything until I can't feel a damn thing, and next thing I know I'm in the bathroom, falling apart, shredding myself, bleeding, until I – feel – something – again.

CHAPTER FIVE – ICHIRO

Northern Downpour – Panic! At The Disco

I don't see the black haired boy again until it's suddenly the first day of school after summer break.

It's already hell when I enter the assembly hall, which is way too colourful for a high school. It looks disgusting.

There are different age groups of students everywhere but I see immediately that this is a small school. Everybody notices that I am new and everybody stares at me as I try to find my locker. When I finally do, I can hear the closest kids' whispers, and I quickly stuff some books into the locker and leave.