Forever Elf

By A. Blackwelder

Summary
When a human and an elfin fall in love, what happens in forbidden romance?
Within the small town of Green Mountain Falls, Colorado, there exists a quiet forest where a world undiscovered awaits. When soccer player, Michael Cole, of high school Green Mountain Falls sees the new girl Evelyn, coy yet intoxicating, walk into his senior English class he is forever changed.
His passion for her takes him deep into her heart and deep into her mystical world. Will their forbidden love be able to sustain them as their separate worlds collide, taking Evelyn and Michael on a magical journey into adventurous and perilous realms where dangerous creatures are determined to defeat them?

High school will never be the same...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ami Blackwelder
• Release date: Jan 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310747519

A. Blackwelder

A indie writer of paranormal and syfy

Book preview

MONTH ONE: MARCH

Evelyn

Her brown snow boots cover her feet and her high white socks stick out over the top. White leggings are snug, and wrap around her lean legs until they disappear underneath her blue jean skirt. A small fragment of her white shirt can be seen underneath her avocado colored jacket. Beach-sand hair is highlighted by the late morning sun shooting through the English class window and into the hallway.

She hides behind her long hair, as if to conceal her beauty, but there is no dimming her effervescence, shining like a lost jewel discovered for the first time by all the eyes upon her. Whispers echo through the halls in wonder. Plump rose lips glitter with ruby tint. Emerald, almond-shaped eyes speak to me as I stand paralyzed with my mouth agape.

Head cheerleader of our school, Tanya, pushes her way through the crowds gathering in the halls before the next class bell. A clique of jocks stands at one end while alternative’ cliques huddle in the corner. Girls giggle in secret near their lockers, covering their mouths as they peer at the new girl. Dropping her class schedule, she and bends to pick it up. Tanya’s athletic shape bumps into the new girl and she falls over hitting her knee.

I rush to help her back to her feet, extending my hand. Tanya smirks and we all know she did it on purpose. My heavy glare makes Tanya hurry away from the scene. Knowing Tanya well, I don’t want an incident. Tanya’s large frame is the perfect base for the cheerleader’s pyramids, and the streak of blond she added to her chocolate hair was the talk of the town last month. It doesn’t take much for gossip in this town. Tanya attends all of the sports games. I play on the soccer team. Head cheerleader often attends games to gawk at the athletes when she isn’t practicing cheers with her squad or cheering for our football team.

Are you alright? I speak the words without elegance or eye contact, too taken aback by her presence for that kind of innocent intimacy. Placing her hand in mine, her touch is like a thousand waves crashing over me. I help her up and notice her tall, lean figure, which appeared frail from a distance, is sturdy with well-toned muscles. Glancing at her schedule, a silent grin defines my lips and flushes my cheeks as I take her to the English classroom.

Her presence in the room is fresh, like the beginning of spring after the heavy snowfalls of winter. Snow is still falling in Colorado, despite the start of spring, and seems it will continue falling for a while. It will be a couple more months before we can see what flowers bloom in our small town. Like the new spring flowers each year, this new girl is a flower of her own kind. She walks towards the back of the classroom and plops into a seat.

I settle for the seat in the front row where I usually sit next to Robby. Robby’s disheveled brown hair is a mess. Of course this is nothing new. He pays less attention to his appearance and more attention to his academics and beloved soccer game. We’ve played soccer since we were kids and making it on the high school soccer team was a dream of ours that came true for both of us.

The class bell rings and the students file into the room, leaving their last moments of freedom behind. They sit studiously and focus in their seats, knowing Mr. Roth takes no excuses for tardiness or misbehavior. In this honors English class we all take education a little more seriously. His wide frame is always dressed in an impeccable suit and his dark blond hair is immaculately combed. Mr. Roth adjusts his spectacles and gazes over his attendance sheet to read her name, Evelynia.

Class, please, say hello to Ev-e-lyn-ee-a. He slows down each syllable to pronounce it correctly. She has just moved here from Alaska and will be joining our Senior English class. As she corrects him, I know my life will never be the same.

Please, call me Evelyn, she says succinctly, as she tries to hide behind her hair again. The class turns around to see this new spectacle in our school, our typically quiet, boring run-of-the-mill high school. Settling into her seat, she realizes she has drawn attention to herself and squirms with an awkward smile appears as if to say, Okay, you’ve all looked long enough, nothing to see here, turn back around now.

A few of the kids giggle while others whisper, all but me. I gaze around the classroom from my desk while Mr. Roth focuses on the papers on his desk. Leaning back in my chair, like I am about to yawn, I roll my head in her direction. I take in the subtle heart shape of her face. Glancing up at me, I am uninvited in her space, and chills rush up my spine. Emerald eyes dart down to the quiz in front of her and I roll my head back in retreat. The class is quiet; it feels like we have been here for a long time, too long. When the bell rings, everyone jumps up, ready to head to lunch. Robby is full of vigor and slides towards Evelyn. I watch in humor as he takes her book bag from the back of her chair, in a most cordial and old fashioned way.

I’ve got it, thanks, Evelyn says, struggling to pull the bag back. She manages to squeeze between the classroom wall and Robby to make a quick exit out the door. Robby winces as he watches her delicate features vanish from his line of sight.

Nice try, I tell him. Next time, don’t scare her. We walk down the hall, watching her as she glides over the floors. Everyone tilts their heads as she goes by, gossiping, wondering. It is not just her drawing the attention of so many eager faces, but the idea of something new to our lives - something to break the monotony of our everyday. New is exciting. New is different. She is both.

Walking angelically, as if sailing down the halls instead of walking, she moves. But of course one foot does go in front of the other. I lose sight of her as she turns a corner. Robby is anxious to get into the cafeteria to eat lunch and I sacrifice my curiosity for satiating Robby’s appetite.

We join our four other friends at a table. I sit between Laura and Sarah. Robby sits across from me between Taylor and Lee. Laura strokes her blond hair with a wooden comb, which she claims refines her locks for her role as most popular cheerleader. She has a crush on Taylor and says his dark chocolate skin tastes sweeter than a Mounds candy bar (not that she has ever had the opportunity to test this theory). I try not to keep that mental image in my mind for too long. As I sit down, she is quick to tell me her thoughts on this new girl.

Did you see her? Her skin is ghastly. Laura sounds like a wounded bird in pain, which I can only deduce is from her extreme jealousy. Placing my lunch tray in front of me, I grab the plastic covered sandwich.

She’s in my English class, I say plainly, as I unwrap my sandwich. Sarah starts to eat and listens intently. She brushes her elegant, long brown hair away from her face and behind her ears. With her hair pulled back I see the few freckles across her nose and cheeks, which she tries to hide with make-up. I thought she looked nice. Nice is an understatement, but I don’t want to give Laura any more fuel to be jealous.

Taylor turns my way when I say nice because he knows that is my word for hot. Of course, he would just say hot, he has no inhibitions. Taylor is another soccer player on our team. He sits across from Laura every day at lunch and is still oblivious to her preoccupation with him. When lunch is over, he will head straight to me and try to weasel out information about this new girl. The blond highlights in his dark hair marks him from a distance. If Laura and he ever finally get together, they may just be the quintessential jock couple of the year.

You are going to have to show me her sometime. Everyone is talking about her. Taylor pauses in thought and then continues, I know, tomorrow I’ll meet you outside English class before heading to lunch.

Wait at your own risk, I retort with a hint of humor. Taylor knows my interest due to my description of her appearance as nice, and he smirks before eating his cafeteria food. Sarah crunches down on her apple and studies the variety of vegetarian delights on her tray. She smiles at Lee who sits across from her.

I saw her in the hallway before lunch. I thought she looked sweet, Sarah defends. Her words speak less about Evelyn and more about herself. Sarah is as naïve as anyone can be at seventeen.

Always seeing the best in people, Lee adds eagerly, because it means conversing with Sarah. Lee’s Chinese heritage has endowed him with dark, almond-shaped eyes. He is gifted with computers, a typical cliché. We used to joke with him about it when he first joined our soccer team, but since he hacked into the school computer network last year and was suspended for a month, the jokes have become more like praise. Reaching across the table, he grabs a few carrots from Sarah’s tray.

Her lips purse and she speaks a French phrase that none of us know except Lee. From Sarah’s tone, and Lee’s hasty retreat, it must have meant something like, Don’t touch my food! Sarah’s long brown hair sits perfectly trimmed, like she used a ruler as she cut to make the edges straight. The fashionable appearance is only trumped by Lee’s designer jeans and Laura’s school cheerleading uniform.

Lee and Sarah are the only two at our table that speak a foreign language. Lee knows Mandarin and French, and Sarah speaks fluent French. They never have much in particular to talk about in French, but they seem to enjoy the little French they do communicate with one another. I think Sarah just likes the idea of all things foreign.

They both always come to school impeccably dressed, something Robby could never aspire too. Robby twitches his nose when he’s lost in deep thought, which is too often for most of the students here. His verbose way of speaking lacks the local colloquialisms necessary for keeping the attention of most girls here, but he impresses the teachers, with whom he spends much of his time.

He plans to attend Yale upon graduating, a school I have longed to get into most of my academic life. I have lived in this small town for the majority of my youth and I am itching to get out of this place.

Across from our table is where most of the cheerleaders sit, including Tanya. Laura would normally sit with them, but her focus has been on Taylor these past few months.

Like Tanya, Laura is quick and efficient at defending her turf. The cheerleaders are the talk of the school, and if someone else takes that attention away from the cheerleaders they are very effective at putting them back in their place.

On the other side of the cafeteria is another table filled with ripped jeans, concert shirts, greased hair, and tattoos. Near the wall of the lunch room is the large table full of football and soccer players –the athletes.

I sat with my friends there last year, but this year has been different for Robby, Lee, and me. We try to buckle down on our studies to ensure an acceptance from a top ten school. We avoid the parties and loud lunch hours in hopes that our sacrifices will pay off in the end. Interspersed throughout the rest of the cafeteria is everyone else, neither notable nor influential, but filling in the spaces.

The bell rings to announce the end of lunch and we split up as we each head to our next class. Mine is Phys. Ed. I head to the gym to change then walk outside to the track and field. That is when I see her. In a white gym uniform, she sits on one of the benches, waiting for her name to be called. It hasn’t been but about an hour since I saw her last, yet I feel like I’ve missed her.

Evelyn, the coach calls, and her piercing eyes dart upward. She lines up in the third lane spot, where Mr. Phillips points.

Michael, Mr. Phillips calls again. I jump off the bench and stand next to Evelyn in the fourth lane. We all have our positions on the track. Standing next to her, it is difficult to concentrate. She smells like jasmine flowers. Our gym instructor, Mr. Phillips, wants to assess our running. We need to run once around the track against the clock. If we cross the finish line in under five minutes, we pass, if not, we fail.

I never have a problem running as I practice every other day with my friends. When we aren’t playing soccer on the soccer field, we are playing hockey. The whistle blows and we attempt to outrace the others. Evelyn and I run side by side with only white chalk lines dividing us. We run together for the first two minutes, then I smile and wink as I pull past her. She returns my gesture with a shy laugh that she hides by looking at the ground. I clock in at three minutes and thirty seconds, the fastest in the class.

Completing the run in just over four minutes, she ranks eighth. Not bad for the new girl. I gasp for air as I exit the track and sit on the benches. Evelyn breathes softly and I notice there is no perspiration on her body.

I hear it’s cold in Alaska, I say to her. Tousled hair fits in with the rest of the girls in the Colorado wind. The next group line up for their assessment. Mr. Phillips blows his whistle a few times, indicating false starts. Evelyn shuffles her feet over the dirt ground, kicking at the sand with her sneakers. Her arms are resting on each side of the bench.

Yes, it is. Her voice is warm like lemon tea. Her coy smile fixates on me before she turns away.

You must be used to the cold weather in Colorado then? I ask clumsily. The sun glistens over her caramel skin which draws a jewel like substance out from underneath her complexion. Emerald eyes look to the shadows on the field from the afternoon sun. Hair drapes over her cheeks like a canopy as she basks in the sun. I stare at the jewel tone of her skin, but it passes, along with the sun. My name is Michael. I swallow hard, You are Evelyn?

Yes. She looks like she is about to say something more but then the bell rings. Class runs inside for showers and she follows behind the other girls. The next two classes move boringly along until the final bell rings. I pack up my things and leap into my Chevy truck to head home. My mom and dad, Sue and Henry, wait for me at the dinner table. Arriving late, I stop by the local library to pick up a few books we have to read for our English class. Despite what jokes my athletic friends make, I am studious and preparing to go to Yale after graduation.

I’ve made your favorite tonight, steak and potatoes, Mom says, standing over the kitchen stove. Take a seat and I’ll be right with you guys, my two favorite men in the world.

So, how are things going Michael? Dad says, and begins eating since Mom has joined us at the table. Dad is a man of few words, and when he begins eating, I know the conversation on his side is soon ending.

It’s fine. I did well on my English quiz today, and picked up a few books for our reports due next term. Though I speak about school, all I really think about is her.

That’s good, glad to hear it. Dad smiles and continues eating.

At night I am haunted by her. Intoxicating. I head outside to kick my soccer ball on the driveway to cool off my mind and let the chilly breeze wash over me. Then I head back inside for a restless sleep.

The next day I spend an extra ten minutes in the bathroom getting ready for school. For me, that is a lot more extra time than usual. Washing my short, dark hair twice, I stare into the mirror on the wall. Rubbing my fingers over the two pink pimples against my nose, I wince. At least my blue eyes are strong in color to distract girls from the imperfection. I shave my chin as I do every morning and spray on my cologne.

When I get to school, I wait anxiously for my first three classes to end so that I can go to English and see her. Heading to the back of the classroom, I await her arrival. She ambles in just as the bell rings and returns to her seat from yesterday. I awkwardly gawk as she politely smiles in return and try for a conversation, but my throat tightens.

Normally, I would have no problem talking to girls, I am quite popular. But she is different. When I am near her, I feel different. I sit quietly, smiling at her for the rest of class until the bell rings and everyone leaves. Noticing Taylor looking at me, signaling for me to go over to him quickly or all hell might break loose, I push through the crowd and manage to get to him before Evelyn disappears completely.

So, where is she? Taylor asks in impatient anticipation.

She left the room already. Didn’t you see her? I retort. By the look on Taylor’s face it is obvious that he didn’t. In obligatory surrender, I point to the tall, lean figure in a blue jean jacket turning the corner at the end of the hall.

The girl dressed from the 80s? Taylor giggles. I hadn’t noticed it, but he is right. She is dressed like she is from a different time. Taylor digresses from his attack on my affections for Evelyn and concedes, You are right. She is hot. He presses his lips like a kiss, Damn, those long legs are fine.

For the next few weeks all I think about is her. I manage to say something in the second week like, Ah, um, do you need my notes? She shakes her head no. Undiscouraged, I eagerly rush to open the classroom door for her as she exits along with three other students. Today these three block my path keeping me from watching Evelyn’s delicate figure. They stop in the middle of the corridor to chat and I become stuck behind them. Evelyn turns the corner and disappears.

It is the beginning of the third week when I mutter something like, Do you need any paper? as I drop my own paper on the floor distracting her from saying anything to me. I look up at her with puppy dog eyes and manage to squeeze out, Would you like..., and then the bell rings. I want to invite her to lunch. Too late. At the end of the third week, I finally muster the courage to ask her out on a proper date without feeling she will reject me completely. I see her pencil break half way through lecture notes, and I pull an extra one out of my bag.

Would you like to go out tonight? I speak slowly, not realizing fully that I am actually asking her out, and she is actually listening. I might be imagining it as I do so many times in class. I mean, if you’re not busy over the weekend. The words fly from my lips in anxious anticipation.

Where? she asks. My eyes open up wide with excitement as she talks to me, and it hits me that this is real, not in my head. I am mystified by her presence.

The Main Star Cinemas. It is up the street from where I live, thirty minutes from the school. She hesitates to answer, and then says apologetically,

I...I can’t. I’m sorry. She seems to desperately want to say yes, but can’t.

Perhaps you would rather go with some other friend? I play with the pencil in my hand.

No, that’s not it. I’m just…I would rather do something closer to home. She looks away then returns a smile.

Ok, I say, hopeful with widening eyes, Where do you live?

Across from Lake Forest. She tilts her head, exposing her jaw line.

Way over there? I ask.

I like to stay as close to home as possible in the evenings, if you don’t mind? Her tone grows austere.

There is a movie theater across from Lake Forest. We could go there? Evelyn ponders. Is it a date? When she returns my smile it is confirmed. I’ll pick you up around seven, I conclude and Evelyn hands me directions to her house. Elation ignites me and I wait for her to gaze at me with her emerald eyes. Unfortunately, we are interrupted as the teacher calls her name to answer a question.

Anxiously, I drive myself home and park the truck in the driveway behind my Mom’s Volvo. I race up to my bedroom and into my closet, passing over the array of clothes I have collected over the years. Nothing is right. Don’t want to appear decadent. Don’t want to appear casual like I don’t care. Finding a dark blue pair of jeans and a nice brown wool sweater, I hope that might look nice; causal, but expensive. I stare at myself in the mirror and notice my hair is a disaster; always messed up when I leave my truck windows down.

Fixing my hair, I shave again just in case any strays have grown in the last seven hours. Heading downstairs, I eat dinner and then rest in the lounge until time to leave. Time passes slowly while I tap my fingers on the table, and though it must have only been about an hour of waiting, it feels like a day.

Forest

Pulling up to her blue and white house with a picket fence across from Lake Forest, I slowly park near the curb. My watch shows 6:55 pm. I stroll with tried confidence up to the mahogany door and overhear a noisy conversation from the nearby open window. A male, raspy voice says,

You need to be careful, Evelyn. He speaks with authority. A soft, female voice interrupts,

Evelyn can’t stay locked up forever. She is young and she should be enjoying her time here.

For now, but he must not ever find out Evelyn. It would be too dangerous for us, for him. You must fulfill your duty in the end. We can’t have the council talking about it. Then the conversation ends. I knock twice on the door and Evelyn opens with an irritated expression. As she sees me she smiles, and I let out the breath I have been holding.

Would you like to come in? she asks.

Of course, I say with too much enthusiasm.

A tall woman with a pale face gazes at me. She has a few dark freckles across her cheeks, and long jet-black hair that hides her ears. Perfect, almond-shaped eyes of emerald green, she stands next to a cream sofa in the living room. A tall, lean man with similar eyes and shoulder length white hair stands next to her. As he reaches his hand toward me, I notice a scar deep in his right cheek stretching from his lip to his lower eye.

Michael, these are my parents, Eve and Nile. I politely extend my hand.

It’s a pleasure. I’m Eve, Evelyn’s mother, Eve says. As I shake her hand, I note her hands are warm and her smile is inviting.

It’s a pleasure to meet one of Evelyn’s friends. Nile nods his head, but behind his eyes is careful suspicion. A tiny girl, about three and a half, skips into the living room. Long, wavy, dark hair brushes past my knees. Her emerald eyes peek through her hands and he speaks so quickly, I can hardly keep up with her.

Mommy, is this Michael? She glances at me. Michael! Michael! So nice to meet you. Evelyn told me you were coming tonight. I hope you like our house. I’m Venda. I live here too. I stifle a laugh with my hand over my mouth. Eve runs her fingers through her daughter’s hair and draws Venda to her.

This is Venda, my youngest daughter, Eve says with a giggle. Nile’s stern expression fades. Venda’s plump cheeks and infectious giggles ease the tension.

What time is the movie? Nile asks.

Begins at 7:30 pm, I explain. I will have Evelyn back soon after the show. We say goodbye and I usher Evelyn to my worn Chevy, which I vacuumed and washed for this very occasion. After opening the door for her, I watch her delicate frame enter into my life.

Tighten your seat belt, I smirk, This is going to be a fast ride. Evelyn fastens her seat belt over her body with a confused expression. I study the crooked lines in her forehead. The cinema is about five minutes away. As we drive, Evelyn is quiet.

Your parents seem nice. Venda is delightful! Evelyn turns away from the window with a quiet laugh.

Yes, Venda is quite a mouthful, Lucky for you, you don’t live with her. I am sure after a week with her you would be gnawing on your own wrists. She laughs again.

Are you comfortable? I ask.

I’m good. Thank you for inviting me, she says sincerely. I don’t get to go out often. My parents don’t like me to. They want me to stay close to home. She speaks in short, curt sentences, like she doesn’t want to say what she says, but feels compelled to explain.

Protective? I ask, and she shrugs. "I