Chapter 3
We learned they were called juminos when the wizard gave us access to their language.
It was weird. So. Weird.
I've always loved a ghost story as much as the next guy but when you see weird little blob guys with sticks for arms and legs, well Bee fainted.
The weirdest part is, no one seems to know about them. We can't be the only people to have set foot in the abandoned community center, what did the others do when they were teenagers? What could they do? It's not like they have a surplus of shops, or even a cafe to hang out in. As much as I am loving this small town life, I'm glad I didn't grow up here. I can see why mum left, even though it broke Grandpa's heart.
By the time I place Mr. Sardine into the fish tank of the community center, I'm starting to feel a little bad for the guy. I've become emotionally attached but the juminos need him more than me apparently. He looks happier with the other few fish I've caught, so I'll try to keep that in mind. I've done all my chores today, the chickens are cuddled, eggs collected, survival burgers cooked for my sister who is already in the mines (which I refuse to step into again, as last time I passed out and got a disapproving look from Dr Harvey). My plans are to head to the beach and do some writing.
"Why were you in the abandoned community centre?" a voice says to me as soon as i exit the building.
"What is it with people in this town not saying hello and randomly appearing?" I mutter, turning to face the purple haired girl who lives in the shop.
"Oh, sorry. My question still stands," she says.
"I....like abandoned buildings.." I lie through my teeth. Who in their right mind likes abandoned buildings. I used to think the scariest thing you could find in an abandoned building is a crazed homeless person, driven to insanity by a harsh life and the ways to cope with it. But after meeting the juminos, who knows what else lurks in dark corners. Besides, the only homeless person in this town seems pretty chill, he gives me fish bait sometimes.
"Oh neat, me too. I used to walk around your farm before you and your sister moved in," she says, seeming disappointed that she can no longer do so.
"Oh, I'm sorry?" What do you even say to that?
"It's fine. Anyway be careful snooping about in there, Mayor Lewis is nosy," she says, scrunching her nose.
"That's certainly one word for him," I hate that guy, there's just something about him.
To my surprise the girl laughs, "Oh we're going to get along just fine. I'm Abigail by the way. I've met your sister but I don't really see you around."
"Bridget, but please call me Bree, Bridget makes me sound forty. Bee is a little more on the social side," I explain.
"You should come to the saloon sometime. I'm there sometimes with Sam and Sebastian, they're chill."
"Next time my social battery isn't completely depleted I'll stop by. Was nice meeting you," I say, giving her an awkward wave as I head back into town.
Suck on that Bee, I can make friends. I find the perfect spot under a tree. It isn't too hot, but the shade still feels nice and blocks the sun from blinding me as I look down at my paper. My moleskine notebook is nearing its end, and there's no bookstore around here. But I'll have to reach that boulder when I get to it. Maybe I can ask Elliott where he gets his writing supplies. My cheeks heat at the thought of another conversation with him. Which is odd, because I've spoken to him twice. I guess he's just different to the guys in the city. He doesn't hook himself up to a games console and sit there for eight hours straight, which is oddly refreshing. With me I have my notebook, my favourite pen, and a romance novel. I stare between my two hobbies, feeling conflicted. Words used to pour from my fingertips as easily as breathing. It wasn't something I had to think about, it was second nature. But after I graduated university, I just became tired. Words felt like a performance, something that was expected of me, the fun completely drained away. But without my words, who am I? I try for a while to write, anything, everything, nothing. I don't want to waste paper if it's going to go nowhere. So I pick up my book, something about a small town romance and a coffee shop. I only noticed time had passed when the shadow of the tree shifted slightly, sending a beam of sunlight directly into my eyeballs. I close my book and lean my head back against the rough bark of the tree, sunlight warming my face as I close my eyes and enjoy the peace for a second. Then the warmth fades, replaced by a cold shadow. I open my eyes to see Elliott standing before me. I blink and rub my eyes, but he's still there.
"I didn't want to make you jump this time," he says, crouching down in front of me. He extends his hand out to me, holding a pink mug with a cartoon lobster on it.
"I saw you sitting out here and thought you might like a coffee?" Cute mug AND coffee? Is this man real? Am I sure I'm not dreaming? I pinch my thigh and bite down an ouch before taking the mug from him.
"Thank you so much!" I take a sip and it's perfect, one hundred times better than the granulated coffee I've been stuck with since moving here, "It's good! This is real coffee!" If he's taken aback by my sudden enthusiasm, he doesn't show it, he just smiles.
"My coffee machine was a must bring when I moved here, can't live without the stuff." Smart man. After packing my essentials (a few books, pictures from home and my typewriter) I had no space for anything else. I told myself I could live without coffee but found myself buying the granulated stuff when I was miserably wrong. Elliott sits down in front of me, crossing his smart trouser-ed legs in front of a lean torso in a red suit jacket and smart clothes. This man is straight out of a romance novel, even his hair blows perfectly in the wind. I realize I haven't verbally responded, that I've been staring at him for at least a minute. But he doesn't seem weirded out, he just smiles. I take another sip of coffee, trying to plan how on earth I'm going to swindle more coffee out of this man.
"What's that you're reading there?" He says, picking up my book from the sand, "Ah, I've actually heard of this one. A romance huh?"
"I've only just started it, it seems okay so far. It's kind of difficult to find a decent romance these days, it's just all so over-saturated, it all feels the same. I sigh, glancing over at my disregarded notebook.
Elliott follows my gaze, "Writer's block?"
"Writer's block," I agree, "But also there's no stationary or bookshops here, I foolishly didn't buy more before moving here. So now I'm scared of wasting paper." He gives me a devilish look before jumping to his feet, "I'll be right back." I watch him walk back to his cabin, taking another deep sip of coffee. By the time Elliott emerges from his cabin, the coffee is gone and I am sad. But seeing him come back makes me smile.
"Here, I have hundreds of notebooks that I'm not using. I'm a bit of a notebook hoarder," he hands me a beautiful, deep red, cloth bound notebook. Gold stars line the borders and scatter through the margins.
"Oh...Elliott I cannot take this from you, It's beautiful!" I want it. I want it so bad but how could I take this from him?
"Please, I insist. I'd rather a fellow writer use it instead of it collecting dust on my shelves," his hands land on top of mine and squeeze gently before he moves them away. My heart is in my throat. If he's speaking, I can't hear over my heartbeat screaming in my ears.
"If...as long as you're sure!" I say, keeping my eyes cast to the book in my lap, praying to Yoba that he can't see the heat in my cheeks.
"Of course!" he stands up and I pass the coffee mug back to him.
"Thank you so much, I owe you, truly"
"Don't be silly, you owe me nothing at all. When you come over to check on my plant, we'll be even anyway," he says with a wink. I nod like an idiot, not trusting words to come out of my mouth in a totally human way. "I'll see you around, Bree."
I sit there, utterly spellbound.