Chapter 1 - Sense and Stupidity

Mr. Johnson, the most boring twelfth grade English teacher at Oak Valley High School, was bashing my favorite novel, Sense and Sensibility.

“Marianne Dashwood is the most naïve and ridiculous character in all of Jane Austen’s novels. Compared to Emma, or even Elinor, she just looks stupid,” he said.

I rolled my eyes, wondering why this man had ever decided to become an English teacher. “But that’s the entire point of the novel,” I said. “Marianne learns from her mistakes and grows to become more mature.”

The entire class, even a boy who had been sleeping with his head under his backpack, turned in my direction with annoyed expressions. Everyone knew that if Mr. Johnson’s literary opinions were ever criticized, he would go on ranting for the rest of class. Mr. Johnson glared at me but quickly turned his attention to Athena Jackson. She always agreed with him, mostly to get extra credit. I watched as he engaged Athena in a detailed conversation about how some people simply didn’t understand Austen’s writing, and I turned my head away in frustration.

Sitting on my right side was my best friend, Jack White. He looked at me sympathetically, knowing how angry I usually was after English class.

“I know, I know,” he said. “I agree with you, but that man never will, and you just need to let it go.”

I sighed and looked behind me to see that Mr. Johnson was still talking to Athena. The two had now moved on to discuss Pride and Prejudice. I turned back around to see that Jack was looking at me gently but also slightly amused.

“You know, Lily, this might be one of those times when I have to remind you that most people will never appreciate books the way you do. I mean, you did grow up in a bookstore,” Jack said.

“Just because my parents own a bookstore does not mean I am the only person here capable of understanding the plot of a well loved and respected novel,” I replied, slightly annoyed.

Jack opened his mouth to respond, but the bell rang before he could say a word, and we both headed out the door.

As Jack and I sat down together in the cafeteria, he pulled out from his backpack an apple, along with a copy of Dracula, his personal favorite. He quickly became absorbed in his book and left me alone to my thoughts. I started eating a bag of pretzels and looked back at Jack. His black hair fell over his silver eyes as he looked down to turn the page. He’d always loved reading, almost as much as me. That’s what had drawn us to each other at first. Most people had always assumed we were more than friends, that we were secretly in love, but I’d never felt more than friendship for him. Jack and I had been best friends since our freshman year, and he was like the brother I’d never had. My parents had always been too busy with our family bookstore to ever consider having another child—they barely seemed to have time to worry about me. But Jack had always been there. He was the one constant thing in my life. He was my only true friend, but he was all that I needed.

When I arrived home from school, I opened the front door to my house and walked in. I saw a note lying on the kitchen table next to a plate holding two chicken salad sandwiches. The note read, “We won’t be home until late, don’t wait up for us.” This was typical of my parents. The Rhodes Family Bookstore had been in my family for three generations, and my parents cared for it more than they cared for our own house. They were good people, but I sometimes felt that they cared for the store more than me.

After carrying the sandwiches upstairs, I sat on my bed. My fingertips flipped open my laptop and scrolled through my grades, which were all A’s, as usual. On a whim, I decided to check the class standings. My grades were always the best, but who was in second place tended to fluctuate. My eyes were unable to look away from the screen. The strangest feeling erupted in the pit of my stomach as I tried refreshing the page, but it came back with the same result. For the past four years, I had always had the highest GPA of all three-hundred students in my class, but according to this list, I was now number two. Someone named Rowan Marx had taken my spot.

Intensely curious as to who he was, I searched my mind, trying to see if I remembered him from any of my classes. Suddenly I remembered that he was in my gym class. He was a loner, the guy who never talked to anyone. But at the same time, everyone was slightly afraid of him. He had an arrogant demeanor, the kind that seemed to say, I could be the coolest guy in school, if I wanted to. I’d never really paid much attention to him before, but now I was certainly interested in finding out how he’d managed to top my grades. After being number one in the class for four years, I’d gotten used to my academic status and wasn’t very happy to give it up.

My hands reached for my phone. I planned to call Jack to ask him if he knew anything about who Rowan was. Beginning to dial Jack’s number, I remembered that it was Thursday. Jack’s family always had dinner together on Thursday nights. There wasn’t much of an option—I would have to wait until tomorrow to tell him. Sighing, I went to my closet and pulled out a T-shirt and sweatpants, quickly putting them on. Then I grabbed my copies of Sense and Sensibility and Wuthering Heights from my nightstand and pulled all of my blankets on top of me. Throwing my hair up in a jumbled tangle of a messy-bun and holding a book in one hand, with a chicken salad sandwich in the other, I was prepared to stay comfortable until I could tell Jack about my newfound source of curiosity.