• Chapter 2- Tear-filled Memories

    My eyes flutter open. Where am I? Curious, I look around. I stroll over to a mound of mossy rocks with vines draping off them. After I sit down, I let my eyes wander over to a pond. Lilies form a heart and spade in the rippling water. In shock of the familiar landscape, I almost forget my own name. Oh yea, Michelle SanaAna.
    Still, the surroundings spark memories I’ve dared not to recall. Why am I here? I promised myself that I would never return. The memories from two years ago... they would be too painful to remember. This was where I had said my final good-bye to—
    Sam stands in the distance
    I scramble to my feet. I must have pinched myself multiple times because within just a few minutes, my arm feels numb. The nerves in my upper limb fade along with my usual clumsy but optimistic personality.
    “Yo Sammy!” I try to sound in control of my raging emotions. “I’ve missed you. Please don’t go. Stay,” tears run down my cheeks. “Why have you avoided Miststar for so long? I really missed you—“
    “I don’t give a shiznaz,” Sammy comments with cold eyes.
    I know Sammy like the back of my precious birman cat, Toru. I know that Sammy would never say “shiznaz.”
    Shiznaz. The devil’s word. The forbidden word. Only the foulest said it. Sammy and I won’t say shiznaz if our lives depend on it. Or so I thought.
    Then again, I have excellent ears. I know what I heard. But, that couldn’t have been Sammy! It must have been an imposter!
    It wasn’t. No one else speaks perfect English. No one else can make birds sing and bells chime at the sound of their voice. Only Sammy can do that. Apparently, since she had moved to Westfront, she had changed. Everything had changed.
    Paralyzed by shock, I can’t react, or even say something when Sammy fades into the shadows. She is gone. Sammy is gone. I won’t see her for ten years or more. Maybe forever.
    So many thoughts poison my mind. Unable to move, I let fate pick me up in its arms and put me on the ground. For the rest of the night, I lay unconscious in the dreary forest.



    A cheery voice sings, “Summer break! Summer break! Finally, you’re free, Michelle!”
    Still groggy, I open my eyes. The voice had come from Johan, no doubt. Leave it to him to wake me from my nightmare with an overly optimistic song.
    Johan keeps humming while making eggs for breakfast.
    He may not be my father, but he seems pretty darn close. According to Johan, my parents died in a forest fire because their friends didn’t acknowledge Smokey the Bear’s teachings.
    I close my eyes again. Johan knows that I enjoy sleeping in and not getting out of bed until 1:30. Unfortunately, the sun isn’t as forgiving, so it flashes bright lights around my head. Annoyed, I grab my pillow and push it to my face. About 30 seconds later, I realize that I can’t breathe through the layers of feather and cloth. I roll over gasping for air.
    Sharp teeth bite my toes. I yelp, then kick the animal off the bed. Toru only will use the power of her tiny teeth on me if I sleep later than 1:30. I know that I should wake up as my usual cheery self, but I don’t feel like being that character right now.
    Johan enters my room with a pair of silver tongs. “Up. Up and out. Now, or else,” Johan muses. I could have cared less about what he said until I look up at his face. It has an evil expression on it that tells me not to underestimate the power of the tongs.
    Next thing I know, I am eating a lamb and cheese omelet.
    “Sup, Michelle?” he grins.
    “The sky,” I remarked. Usually, I would have joked, “that bird. Not that one. Not Bobby, that one. No, no, no. It’s right there. Next to that speck of dust.” As shown, I have a lame sense of humor. I could actually be funny, but I don’t care enough to improve my jokes.
    Johan smirks and comments, “Bad dream about Sammy abandoning you, eh?” He grins at my stunned expression.
    “How did—“ I stop myself. Johan isn’t normal. Normal people didn’t take mind-reading classes in college. Before Johan told me, I didn’t even know that that elective existed.
    I feel irritated with Johan for invading my personal thoughts. Johan can probably tell. I have to come up with something to say on the spot or else he will make a cool, calm, and collected (as my teacher once said) response.
    “So…” I stare at my fork, “you took the classes. Can you teach me some of your mind-reading skills?” I try hard not to gloat. It isn’t easy to replace Johan’s usual smiley face with a shocked expression.
    “Durr…”
    I have to restrain myself from cracking up. Suddenly, ding! Time is up. Johan has come up with a response.
    “I’m sorry Michelle, but you can’t learn how. The only reason I got the class was because I had the right... type of mind. Only certain people can read psyches. They are born with the skill, and my teacher taught us how to use it,” Johan calmly states.
    Glory-time-for-surprising-Johan time is over. He puts his hand on my head.
    With a thoughtful glance, he states, “You had a dream about Sam. Unless you snuck out of here to see your friend, which I may add is very unlikely, Sam is in Westfront. You won’t see her for a while. Also, it means that you didn’t actually have a reunion with Sam. I know it’s hard to let go of, but Michelle, dreams are just a way to express hidden feelings. You’re afraid that she will have changed and forgotten you. It didn’t happen, so don’t worry your head off, Michelle. She’s probably going to be as excited to see you next year as you will be to see her then.”
    I can’t help but pouting. Johan is right, but sometimes I need to throw a good, old fashion, hissy-fit. Johan’s annoying logic just messes up my opportunity. Bah-humbug.
    Johan tries to ruffle my hair good-heartedly, but I storm to my room just in time. Cursing under my breath, I search for a lock to my door.
    Footsteps echo against the wood floor. I dive for the key on my nightstand (yea, it comes in handy a lot) and slam into the door. I twist the lock with a sigh. Just in time. Johan tries to open my door, but grunts when he finds that his efforts are useless.
    I grin in satisfaction.
    Sure, I feel sorry for all of you who have parents who would grab an axe to hack open your door to make sure you don’t sneak away, but I’m not about to waste any of my precious minutes trying to empathize. Time’s ‘awastin!
    I twist open the hatches on my window and escape into the morning air. Moss and soil soothe my feet. Long, green wild grass form waves in the cool wind.
    I close my eyes and let the scent of mountain air and sound of rippling streams relax my strained mind.
    My world comforts me. This world sends birds to greet me every morning. This world knows me as well as I know it. This world dulls my pains and welcomes me to explore and breathe the scent of pine. This world never gets old or boring because
    This world is my heaven.