The Boy Who Never Smiled

Chapter 6

Chapter 6
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I sighed, pushing the rude boy from my mind.

I don't have to worry about him now, I told myself and began walking once more, plugging my earbuds back into my ears and resuming my song.

I was walking towards the center of town (which was called LakeView, by the way), where all the shops and stores were. I had about $40 in my purse; maybe I could buy something.

As I considered this, I admired the scenery around me. The squirrels, like I had been marveling earlier, were hopping with quick agility from branch to branch.

How I longed to be a squirrel, to be free, to soar through the treetops, to gaze up at the sky...

I jerked from my trance and instead fixed my eyes on the sidewalk in front of me, quickening my pace towards the middle of town.
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I was relieved when I finally made it into the center of LakeView.

There were small shops, stores, and even restaurants everywhere. I saw a pizza parlor, a toy shop, a shop filled with mainly school supplies, almost everything.

About twenty people were walking around, and I saw a woman around the age of 30 rolling her eyes at two boys looking around the age of 8 who were pointing at some romote-controlled airplanes in a toy store.

I laughed lightly to myself before I observed the shop.

Bookstore, bookstore, bookstore-- aha!

I grinned with satisfaction upon spotting a small bookstore towards the end of the line of stores on the right of the street.

I hope they have Harry Potter, I thought before glancing both ways, checking that there were no cars coming, before I crossed the street quickly, my pace brisk.

I stepped onto the sidewalk, tightening my sweatshirt more firmly around myself as a firm breeze brushed against my face, caressing my cheeks.

I began walking again, towards the bookstore, and bit my lip in thought.

Who was that boy? I wondered, finally finding myself thinking of the strange boy I had ran into again. He looks around my age. I wonder if we'll go to school together. Is he always that rude? the questions swarmed around my mind, but how could I answer them? I didn't even know the guy's name! Did I even want to, though?

I shook my head slightly, clearing my thoughts, and stepped up to the door of the bookstore, seeing it was called Bertha's Bookshop of Beauties. I guess they have a creative mind, hmm?

I ignored the name and just pushed the door to the shop open, hearing a bell ring above me.

I entered the shop and observed my surroundings.

There were bookshelves full of books, some old and yellow, others crisp white, others well-polished, others dusty, others paperback, others made of hard leather. I was transfixed. How could such a small shop have so many books?

Towards the front an old lady around the age of 40 sat at a desk, presumably made of oak wood, scribbling down at a faded piece of yellow paper, her brunette brow drawn in intense thought.

I'm assuming this is Bertha, then.

She glanced up at me briefly, plastered a smile onto her face, and said cheerfully, "Welcome to Bertha's Bookshop of Beauties. How could I help you?"

I smiled at her and said, "I'm just looking, thank you." The lady smiled and nodded. "I'm Bertha, owner of the shop," she stated, confirming my previous thoughts, "and I'll be glad to answer any questions you have."

I flashed her a small smile. "Thank you," I told her before Bertha smiled and looked back down at her piece of paper, beginning to write furiously again.

I turned away and began walking through the countless shelves of books, listening as a new song played through my earbuds; Heart Attack by Demi Lovato.

I searched the rows of books, secretly hopping a Harry Potter or Percy Jackson book would appear and supply me with something to do.

I nearly yelled with glee when I saw all seven Harry Potter and three of the Percy Jackson books stacked up, all on the same shelf!

What luck! I thought in amazement before plucking out The Titan's Curse from Percy Jackson and The Chamber of Secrets from Harry Potter.

I then made my way over to the back of the store, relieved to see a window seat hidden behind a thick stack of bookshelves.

I slipped past them and plopped onto the plaid plush window seat, pulling up my legs and leaning back onto the brick wall supporting the seat on both sides.

I then took out my notebook and a pencil before I began drawing the words MUDBLOOD on the paper. I curved the D, giving it a loop at the bottom, and drops that spiraled from the end which looked like blood.

Mudblood, mudblood, mudblood. Am I a mudblood? So out of place among these purebloods? I wondered, referring to all these new people as purebloods and myself as a mudblood. If you don't read Harry Potter, I'll explain it.

A mudblood is a rude word or insult to Muggleborns. A Muggle is a person who has no ounce of magical blood in their veins, and their children who become wizards or witches are called Muggleborns. Pureblood wizards and witches, or people who have no ounce of Muggle blood in their veins, use the insult 'mudblood' on Muggleborns, referring to their plain and 'unpure' blood of Muggle genes. It is a highly insulting and dangerous phrase, almost like a curse word.

Am I a Muggleborn, sticking out among all these purebloods? (Get it now?) The purebloods are all the people used to this town, and I'm the Muggleborn, the one who is confused and lonely.

I was so lost in my thoughts I nearly jumped ten feet in the air when a familiar icy voice grumbled, "Not you, again!"

I looked up, my eyes wide with shock, into the almost coal black eyes of the boy who had slammed into me on the sidewalk.

(A/N: Rixton is back... :)

Don't forget to VOTE, COMMENT, and ADD THIS INTO YOUR LIBRARY. Thanks.

P.S., you know if there is a song to listen to it.)