Chapter 1: On the run again.

A Rising Star Novel.

 

 

 Chapter 1: On the run again.

 

I’m not sure where I should start, I’m so confused and to be honest I’m scared.  I’m on the run again and I’m not sure if I’ll make it to my next destination.  I’m running because I saw my father murder my mother when I was ten.  He’s after me because he thinks I’m some ‘super being’ called the Rising Starr -as if- honestly, how stupid could he be.  His family has this legend that a child will be born and when they turn eighteen they’ll obtain a powerful gift.  Personally, I think he and his family need some serious therapy.   Looking back at my life now and all the chaos that has started because I’ll be eighteen in just over a year, it’s just crazy and with my father and his family hot on my tail, I’m not exactly sure I can handle much more.  I don’t even know my father, all that I do know is that he is from a very old and powerful family from Spain. 
 My mom, what I remember of her, was a happy woman and loved being a nurse.  She was always worried about me because my mom believed the silly story about the Rising Starr, so she did everything in her power to keep me hidden and she did really well until I was about five years old.  That’s when we started moving and changing our names.  I remember that one day she got a call from Spain and she was terrified.  The next day my mom enrolled me in a martial arts class and even found me a private instructor to make sure that I was able to protect myself.  We stayed in Toronto for two more years moving to different parts of the city and slowly changing our names trying to remain hidden and inconspicuous.  

When we lived in New Mexico I was ten and my father had finally caught up with us. My mom sent me to school that fateful day with a black slouch pouch that she normally kept in her bedside night table.  She hugged me fiercely and told me that if anything happened to her or if a stranger tried to get me to go with them that I was to run and follow the instructions she wrote in the letter that was in the pouch.  I didn’t want to go but she insisted that I go to school as normal and that she would see me at lunch.  Lunch didn’t happen though.  When I got home I saw that the door had been kicked in and then my life changed forever.  This time I saw my father, he’s a tall man about six feet tall with a creamy warm coffee coloured tan skin with dark brown wavy hair, that shimmers with reddish tints in the sun.  His voice was deep and sharp with anger as he demanded to meet me, and snarled how could she keep me from him?  He growled that he had rights as a father, and I belonged in Spain with the family.  Mom just laughed as she knelt before him flanked by his goons, she refused him again and again and told him that she would never allow his family to control me or my potential ability.  I never saw her again.  I was only ten years old at the time and I ran from my father before he could spot me.  I blocked out most of the horrors I saw that day.  I hardly remember how I got to the house across town.  I knew what to do, my mom’s letter spelled out everything. I went to the bus station, and once there I read the note inside the bag again. Then I went across the street to a house that I did not know.  The key to the house was on a small key chain with an inscription saying “my life for you”, what a horrible saying.  I hated the fact that she sacrificed herself to protect me.  I wanted her to be with me, I didn’t want to see her only when I closed my eyes at night.

I was sobbing as I walked into that house thinking about the cruel truth that I would never see my mother again and that I was truly alone. The instructions in the letter told me that I would find a couple of bags in the back hall closet with everything that I would need to get to a safe place.  In the bags were a couple changes of clothes and three sets of travel papers.  Each set was complete and each with a different name, the one that surprised me was the one with my real name on it.  Anastasia Patricia Graham, I stood there stunned looking at the passport, school records and birth certificate.  After a few minutes I noticed that there was another letter in the bag.  This second letter told me to go to New York to stay with her friend Stacy, as I read further she told me if I thought that I was in danger then I should go to the last place she wanted me to go and if I had to do that I was to use my real name.  That’s when I learned about my godfather James.  He lived in a small town in northern Ontario, Canada. There was a letter in the bag for my godfather and I was only to hand it to him in person.  That would have to wait for now, I had to go to New York first, so I packed up the contents of the small bag and grabbed the other bag and left.  I got on the first bus east, but I also bought tickets to other cities to the west and south just in case my father was watching the bus lines.  One thing about my mother, she wrote every detail down of what to do meticulously, so that I could make it safely to my next destination.

I managed to get to New York a few days later and to my mother’s friend Stacy.  Stacy took one look at me and threw her arms around me.  Stacy seemed to know what was going on and accepted me into her life and she protected me as best she could.  Stacey is an amazing artist who painted and she also played the harp for the New York symphony orchestra.  I got to watch her play every day.  She enrolled me into a school that emphasized the arts called the Professional Performing Arts School which is located on 48^th Street, just a short subway trip from our apartment on Fifth Avenue.  I loved my school, I learned how to play the harp and to dance.  My favorite thing was hanging with the Crazy Arch Angels.  We were a group of kids who were an exclusive group of street runners.  There were about twenty of us and every weekend we would take to the streets, our personal playground, and dance and run from one end of Manhattan to the other.  Everyone knew our team and we would have competitions with other teams a few times a year to see who could come up with the newest, craziest and wildest tricks.  I got the nick name Jade Angel because I was willing to do any trick no matter how dangerous, the jade stood for the color green I always whore when I ran and the angel part I got because no one thought the quiet shy girl in the corner would do anything like street running let alone do some of the most dangerous tricks in the sport.  I could and still can, get into the smallest places being only five foot four and built somewhat athletically made it easier to do tricks like flipping over walls, sliding through stair rails, running up walls and tumbling off buildings using the environment that we happened to be in.  That’s what our school helped us to perfect although they didn’t like us street running because the school administrators thought it was too dangerous.  We all had our passions when it came to the arts whether it was facets music, acting or dancing but for our down time hours we all took to the streets.  One day last week I was found by one of my father’s family members, she was a small woman with the same dark hair and dark tan as my father and she also had the same jade green eyes as mine.  She seemed to spot me instantly even though she was following Stacy.  I was supposed to meet Stacy for lunch so we could discuss my seventeenth birthday party that was coming up soon.  It’s hard to believe that I’ve been in New York for almost seven years.  I ducked into an alley hoping that the woman following Stacy hadn’t realized who I was.  No such luck, a few minutes later two huge Spanish goons rounded the corner and grinned evilly at me.  They blocked my only exit- I’m such an idiot.  I quickly glanced around the alley to see what I could use to help my escape and there wasn’t much.

“Hello Anastasia it’s nice to finally find you.  Your father will be so happy to see you” the hairy one said.

“Not likely. You have to catch me first ass wipe” I sneered and prepared for their attack.  The silent one lunged and executed a perfect roundhouse kick to his head, then turned and ran deeper into the alley as the second goon ran after me.  I ran up the corner of the wall and turned aiming a front kick to his sternum which hit the mark perfectly as I heard a crunching sound and smiled to myself.  The silent one hit me in the stomach with his fist as I landed while his partner fell to his knees.  I backed up a few paces breathing hard.  My heart was racing, so I went on instinct and executed a switch kick nailing him in the head again, he went down.  The other one was up on his feet and moving closer, I danced around to evade him while he kicked and punched over and over until he finally made contact on my left side and I went flying into the dumpster.  My head was reeling in pain and my side felt like it was on fire.  I probably had a broken rib or two.  Shit this is going to hurt.

“You can’t win kid.  I’m better than you in every way” he laughed.

“Oh really?” I snapped and then sprayed him in the face with a can of mace.  He screamed in outrage as I grabbed his head and kneed him in the face as hard as I could.  He was finally down.  I whipped off my wig and stuffed it in my bag carefully moving to the edge of the alley.  I peered around the corner to make sure no one else was there and then casually walked into the crowd moving down the sidewalk trying very hard to walk straight and not hold onto my aching left side.  I went into a busy store called Saks on Fifth Avenue and went into the bathroom.  There I cleaned myself up the best I could and then bought a new outfit that I wore out of the store.  I knew then that I had to leave. I didn’t want to go but what else could I do?  I wasn’t going to put Stacey in any more danger if I could help it.  A week had almost gone by without any of my father’s people showing up but I couldn’t take any more chances.  I pulled out my cell phone and found Paul’s number if I was going to get away I was going to need the help of my friends.

“Paul, are you free for a run tonight?” I asked when he answered the phone.

“Hey, Allie what’s going on that you want to run tonight?” Paul questioned.

“I need to get out of here and I thought the best way to do that would be a run through the streets. That way it would be harder to track who joined and left the group.  I was thinking that we could do a city wide street runner call, get everyone involved.  Please man, I need to get away without him finding me.” I added in a hurried voice.

“Whatever the Jade Angel wants the Jade Angel gets.  I’ll put out the call.  When do you want to start the run and where?” he asked.

“Let’s start at five thirty and move from the top end of Manhattan to the bottom end, let’s make this the best party ever” I said with almost a sad note to my voice.

“The Jade Angel has spoken” he joked “Hey, are you okay?”

“I will be and thanks for helping me Paul, you’re the best” I said quietly and hung up the phone.

I got home before Stacy, and packed my things quickly.  I sent a few packages to myself to my next destination by Purolator Courier so that I wouldn’t have to dump all my stuff in the trash.  I destroyed all evidence of my existence at Stacey’s apartment. I knew that disappearing would hurt Stacey but I had no choice, it was the only way she could remain safe.  I wouldn’t let her get hurt because of me, and she knew my history, that I might disappear one day.  I left her a note hidden in her favourite book knowing that one day she would find it.  For the first time since I was five years old I would go by my given name, Anastasia Graham.  For the first time I would be able to have my natural blond hair and not dye it different shades of brown or red or wear those hot and itchy wigs.  I wouldn’t have to wear coloured contact lenses to hide my pale jade green eyes.  I would get to be me for the first time in years and to be honest, I was terrified.  I didn’t want to go to my godfather, a man I knew nothing about but I knew that it was the only way that I would be safe.  I sighed as I took one last look around the apartment that I had called home since I was ten and then left.  

I drifted into the twilight like a waif in the wind and joined my fellow street runners.  We moved through Central Park and into the subway and over to the bus station and down into old China town.   Those people looking for me would never know which way I went.  More people joined our run and others left all going in different directions which would make it confusing for anyone to track me.  The street runners were well known in this area and many people would stop and watch as we performed, but tonight was different, we moved quickly, quietly and methodically.  I finally broke off from the main group while we were in the subway again and took a train as close to the airport as I could get.  I opened the third letter my mother had left for me and she gave me two options.  The first was to take a bus to my next destination or to go to the address at the bottom of the page and to make sure that I had my keys ready.  I chose option number two.  I jumped into the next cab that passed by and gave the driver the address.  When I arrived at my destination I got out of the cab and moved towards the high fence.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to wait for you, kid?” the cabby asked.

  “I’m good thanks.” I replied and pulled out the keys that I had used only once before.  The letter instructed me to use the keys with the pink and orange bands on them.  I walked around the corner and found the entrance into the yard.  I saw a large garage in the middle of the property and walked up to it.  I tried the orange key first and the door opened easily.  I walked inside and flicked on the lights which illuminated a beautiful glossy black Suzuki bandit motorcycle with riding bags and a helmet resting on the seat.  I smiled to myself, I loved to ride and hadn’t been able to for the last month due to weather. Stacy hated motorcycles but my mom had been adamant that I learn how to ride when I was old enough. I got to learn against Stacy’s better judgement as soon as I turned sixteen.  I looked into the bags and found riding pants and a jacket, black of course, and promptly changed.  I didn’t have much with me, just a backpack with a few changes of under clothing and a few tee shirts and of course my passport and the letters my mom had left me.  I straddled the bike and put the key in the ignition, as I turned the key the bike purred to life.  I drove out of the garage, stopped closed and locked the door and headed straight for the highway going northbound.

It was a two day ride to Toronto.  Normally it would have only taken eight to ten hours but I decided to take a roundabout way north so that I could cover my trail as much as possible.  I paid cash for everything so I couldn’t be traced through my bank accounts which I cancelled online once I was close to Canada and transferred the money into one of my more secure accounts in the south.  I may only be almost seventeen but I acted more like a mature adult when I was on the run.  My mom had grilled it into my head that I had to be smart and out think my father and his men.  She also told me that I had someone watching my back and if there was ever a serious problem they would reveal themselves to me but that has never happened so I assumed that they didn’t exist.  I rested in Toronto for a while and then continued north again towards Huntsville, Ontario a tiny little town that contained my last hope, a man I had never met and had only learned about after my mother died, a man named James Madley my godfather.  Apparently, from my mother’s letters, he lived in a small house on the shores of Fox Lake.  The journey was long and it took almost a week to finally get to my destination because of all the crazy cloak and dagger manoeuvres I was using to keep my father and his family off my trail for a good while.

            As I rode into Huntsville I realized that I needed fuel and I had to store the bike away in case I needed it again in future.  I pulled into closest gas station and started to pump gas when I noticed a group of high school students tossing a basketball back and forth.  Two of the guys were tall and very good looking.  The other guys seemed to look to these two for the latest trend setting clothing because they were clearly the leaders and the others were the followers.  I rolled my eyes because I hated the typical jock type.  A man in a black car pulled up behind me and got out of his car watching me as I was putting the nozzle back in its holder.

“Nice bike” he said leering at me.  He gave me the creeps and my skin started to crawl as his gaze raked over my body from head to toe.

“Whatever.” I said as I went to the window to pay for my fuel.  When I got back to my bike the black car was still there, but the man from the car was nowhere to be seen.  Suddenly a hand tapped my shoulder I turned and narrowed my eyes at the man who had touched me.  It was the man from the black car.

“Where did you get the bike?” he asked with narrowed eyes.  He was up to something and I knew it.

“What’s it to you?” I snapped.

“My brother’s bike was stolen three days ago.” He replied. “And it looked just like this one.”

“I was in Toronto three days ago with my bike, now move” I snapped again.  One of the good looking guys I had noticed when I pulled in walked over and slung his arm around my shoulder.  He was tall with blond wavy hair and he wore dark sunglasses which hid his eyes.  He smirked at me as I raised my eyebrow at him.  I was getting really agitated now. What was up with these hicks?  I mean honestly are they all nuts and delusional?

“Hey darling, I’m glad your back.  Are you coming for dinner tonight?” he asked all chummy like.  I thought I was going to hurl, he was trying to rescue a damsel in distress, as if!

“No, I’m busy.” I brushed his arm off my shoulder then started my bike and put on my helmet.  I revved the engine twice and then peeled out of the gas station.  The man in the black car followed me. I noticed him in my side mirror and smirked as I gunned it to the stop sign and then slammed on the brake and spun the bike around in a tight 180 degree turn.  I gave him the bird and took off down the street.  Out of the corner of my eye I could see the group of guys at the gas station, most were hooting and whistling but the two good looking ones were shaking their heads in disbelief as I roared past.  I managed to lose the man in the car and got to a storage shed that my mom owned and stored the bike there.  I would have to come back and put a few extra things in the riding bags when I had the chance.  Then I called for a cab and headed for Fox Lake and my godfather.

So here I sit in this small little town on the door step of my godfathers house, a man that I don’t even know, wondering what I’m going to say to him when I actually get up the nerve to knock on the door.  Would he know who I am? Would he be happy to see me? Would he know what I was and what my mother was trying to protect me from? But most of all, would he help me?  All I had to do was knock on the door, what was I waiting for?  I didn’t want to hope, I was afraid to hope.  It feels like I have been running for so long, what do I do? I stared at the door, my hands shaking and my heart racing.  I could be tough when I needed to be but I wasn’t sure how to act here.  I felt the sweat beading on my face and neck as I slowly moved my shaking hand to knock on his door.
 

Synopsis

Rising Starr.

Anastasia Graham is a teenage girl on the run from her power hungry Spanish family.  She witnessed her father murdering her mother at the age 10.  Now at almost 17 years old, he has found her again.  Anastasia runs to the last place she can go, in hopes of finding the freedom she always wanted.  That hope lies in the small town of Huntsville, Ontario.  Her godfather, has secretly had people watching over her for years and he knows that changes are coming.  Will Anastasia be able to handle those changes?  Will she find love in the process?  Can she overcome the family prophecy?  In the end what will she become? How powerful will she be?