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ONE: FINDING THE LOST
I lived in south Minnesota, I went to Wayzata high school and my life would be changed forever. I was going to gym class, changing in the locker room. I was looking for my sock to put on my foot so I wouldn’t get wrinkled feet after class. As the last group of girls cleared out, I found my sock, in another’s locker. I bent down to get it, but I was shoved into it and banged my head on the back of the compartment. Enjoyable laughs exploded behind me and something crashed. I squirmed around in the limited space I had. By the time I faced the closed grates, the girls were gone.
I’d known those laughs all my life; Sherry, the leader with golden hair with natural highlights, Donna, the back-up with solid black hair, Laura, the joker with fire red hair and Kara, the stylist with chocolate hair. I’d been taunted by those girls my entire life. Not only those girls, but other people in the school. Even professors acknowledged my lameness. I was bullied because I started habits a little bit late for the average American girl: ears pierced in seventh grade, put make up on in eighth grade, picked out my own clothes in sixth grade, etc. These habits started at these times might not acquire your disapproval, but it did in my school.
I tried to sit there, like I always do, ignoring the humiliation, or at least, taking it. But I couldn’t stand sitting there anymore, I would stretch a muscle too far and that would boot me off the soccer team which was the only thing I could do to not get criticism and I was always on the edge on every kind of team thing, one single wrong move and that would be it. I pounded helplessly on the grate that vibrated. I gave up with one final blow that shook the whole space and made my hand ache. Something smashed on my head and I squealed in pain. There was a thud next to my hip. I rubbed my head which already started to throb. I reached around for the object in the dim light. I felt it under my knee. This object was smooth and spherical. I held it to my face. The edges barely reached the tips of my fingers. The orb started to glow purple. Purple clouds that were clouds that were neither air nor water, like a canister of gas was released. Black accented the clouds here and there. It glowed brighter and brighter, making the space better to see in.
When it was at the point I had to close my eyes from the pain it caused from slow dilation, deep blue electricity shot from the orb which still sat on my hand. It shot at the lock on the door. The orb’s light receded, as it used all of it’s power just to shoot a lightning bolt. When my eyes fixed to the current light, I could see that there was a hole melted through where the lock should have been. Streams of smoke and steam still danced across the surface.
I pushed on the grate. Despite the unpleasant squeak of the hinges, it opened with the slightest touch. I scrambled out clumsily, for I was in the same position for a long time. I stretched, cracking my back and a shoulder. I wiggled my toes which cracked also.
I glimpsed at the clock which hung over the exit or entrance door. According to that, I’d been sitting there for thirty-five minutes, and that gives me enough time to decide what to do. I thought for a moment and came up with three choices:
Choice one) I could stay here until class was over and the girls would come back. They would chuck me back into a different locker anyway.
Choice two) I could wander aimlessly around the school, probably finding a teacher, making me end up in “jail”, or another group of students ditching class finds me and figures out a way to “torture” me.
Choice three) Go to the office where the nurse was and pretend I’m sick. If I actually manage to vomit there, that would get me a free pass home. I do this often, and yes I do throw-up every time. The last time I remember doing this is when I got beat up to the point I got a broken arm. I vomited so I could boost my absence to about another week or so.
Number three sounded the best. So I changed back into my school clothes, setting the sphere on the bench across for my locker. When I was done, I figured that not everyone carries a purple rock around school. I you’d asked another student, they would assume it was me. Therefore, I needed to stuff the orb into my jean pocket. I picked it up and as my hand got close to the pocket, the orb shrunk to the size of a quarter. I paused and then slipped it in. I grabbed my book bag and marched to the door.
I ambled halfway across the school to reach the office. On the way, I noticed that I was holding a small garbage bin under my chin. ‘How’d that get there?!’ I thought. I started to burst into a slow run without consciously telling my legs to do so. I kept the bin in the same position. I tried to lower my hands, for I didn’t feel sick at all, but my brain didn’t respond. Once I walked to the office door, something wet was thrown up my throat and it burned.
Next thing I knew, today’s chili was all over the floor, in the bin, and on my shirt. Some bits of bread stick made it into the bin. My book bag’s content’s were spread across the floor, thankfully, not covered in lunch. The school’s nurse was groaning behind a desk. She was a heavy-set that wore an apron with bright red glasses that hung over huge, inflated jowls and cheeks. She got up out of her rolling chair which whimpered from the weight. She went to the front office and disappeared around the corner. There was a beep, warning any classes that there was an announcement, “Jerry Donald,” the nurse’s voice moaned. “please report to the nurse’s office. Jerry Donald.” There was a thump when the announcer was hung up. There was a roar of amusement down the hall that not even the door behind me could break the sound. I rolled my eyes and spat out some more chili into the bit. The nurse came back and plunked down in her seat I couldn’t see behind the desk. She started to fill out papers.
The janitor in a navy blue, filthy trouser suit with a tool belt and huge boots, walked around the corner where the nurse recently walked in. He was also a heavy set. He had a bushy mustache and oily wrinkled skin. The nurse looked up at the janitor with a tempting look on. He looked back with the same look. I was still sitting in my own stomach acid by the door from the hallway. The nurse got up with the same look on her face, like a permanent mask
“How are you Mrs. Honey?” he said in an irresistible voice, well, not to me, but the nurse sure liked it. She got and inch from his torso. She took her two fingers and started to walk up his chest, “I’m fine, Mr. Donald.” She replied in the same tone. Mr.-Donald slowly took off the nurse’s glasses with the tips of his fingers with both of his hands. They were about to devour each other when I called, “Hey lover-birds! A little help!”
“Oh yes, of course.” Her voice changed to a moan, but her face never changed. “Jerry, if you please.” She pointed to the janitor closet.
“Oh yes, of course.” He repeated and ripped his gaze off of her and trudged to the closet for the mop. I slowly tried to get up, but my insides felt like mush. Funny. I was perfectly fine on my way here.
“Let me help you with that.” Said the nurse. She walked over and bent over to grab the bin, or at least tried to. On of her “boobs” consequently fell out, for she wore a shirt with a deep V. “Oops.” She folded it back in and grabbed the bin. The janitor came back with the mop and bucket of soapy water. Ms. Honey grabbed my arm with her flabby hand and dragged me to a room with no doors, just a shade.
“I’ll be right back,” and she waddled off. I sat on the bed in the room with my shirt definitely ruined now. How did this happen? One moment I was perfectly healthy, the next…
That was a flaw at the time. When there’s one, there’s two. I reached in my pocket. The purple marble slipped out on it’s own into my hand. I stared at it’s always changing pattern. It stayed the same size. I kept staring in wonder, trying to figure out exactly what this object I found in a locker room was. I came to one conclusion that maybe it was an egg from an alien infested planet. Maybe I would leave this subject for later…
The orb slipped back into my pocket suddenly. I looked up. Nothing was there, then the nurse came in. She was holding a skimpy, yellow tank top and a huge pair of Abercrombie pajama pants. “I’ll wash your clothes while you wear these.”
“No, no. It’s fine. Do you have a hoodie?”
“Yes, of course.” Ugh, that quote is getting old!
“You see my jeans don’t have any barf on them?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’ll change into that shirt and I’ll wear a hoodie over it.”
“Oh,” don’t say it “ok.” And she left. I sat there for a moment and she was back again, with a vibrant green hoodie. No wonder someone “lost” it.
“Here you go,” and she handed me the tank top and the hoodie.
“Thanks?” I said to her back as she hurried out the door, taking advantage of my absence.
I changed and on my way out. Picked up my book bag and it’s content’s. The mop was in the bucket. Half of the job done. It sounded like there was an earthquake going on in the janitor’s closet. I knew what was going on but just thought to myself not to make me vomit again, “A red rhino is in there and is trying to get out.” I repeated over and over.
I walked around the corner where the announcements phone was and went to the real phone. I dialed my home phone number and after the fourth buzz, mom answered. My mom wasn’t as young as you think. For all I care, she could have signed the constitution. She’s around her late sixty’s. She could have raised two other generations before me. Ugh, brings back awful memories.
“Hello?”
“Hey mom.”
“Hi honey. What’s up?”
“Don’t ever say that. Um, I kinda barfed all over myself and I really don’t feel well, can you pick me up?”
“Yes. Do I need to bring Oust?”
“No, mother. Bring yourself and your purse so no one steals you licence. I you wish to bring the oust, leave it in the car. Make sure to lock the door.”
“Ok. I’ll see you in fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen minutes?! Mom, I could call one of my friend’s moms and they would pick me up in less than two seconds.”
“Honey, we’re not going to have another fight over the phone.”
“Sorry for blowing up. What I’m saying is that I want to get out of here before anyone sees me in this lame jacket.”
“I understand,” she knew everything about my abuse, “I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Thanks mom.”
“I love you Dune.”
“Ok,” and I hung up. Sometimes, I wasn’t even sure if I even liked her. She banns me from everything. When all the girls were getting cellular phones in sixth grade, I wanted one also. She just said, “You won’t need one.” Oh yes I will mother, there’s a built in camera, so you don’t have to get me that. And plus, I can have a separate social life. Ugh. And I thought life was over if I couldn’t buy my own clothes.
She also disciplines me way too often, even for doing the littlest things: one of them is not putting away the dishes into the dish washer right away. And I thought that I could escape from school mockery.
As you can see in exhibit ‘A’, I am a deprived little child, unlike other girls with their twenty-one year old mothers. I think my mom doesn’t let me have certain things because she has more experience in life and she learned things the hard way (a long time ago), which the twenty-one year olds are about to learn…
I walked over to the cushioned chair by the window. I tucked my knees under myself so I was kneeling on the chair lopsided. I breathed heavily against the window as I thought about how I could have thrown-up. I thought over and over on how I made myself vomit. But my brain had no warning of spitting out my own stomach acid. I concentrated on the vapor shrinking and growing on the glass as I breathed. Something shifted in my pocket. I put my hand next to my pocket and the marble jumped out. I touched the edge of my hand to the window sill near my face. As I predicted, it rolled off of my hand onto the platform. It stayed there. If it had eyes, I couldn’t see them. Either they were staring me in the face of gazing out into the parking lot. I stared at it. Then there was a change of color in my peripheral vision.
My mom’s seaweed-green Hyundai pulled up into a parking spot. I gathered my things before she could get into the school. With my stained shirt and unusual torso apparel, I ran out the door to greet my mom. It was fall, so I put up my hood to keep from anyone seeing my face and to keep my ears warm. I got to the car and opened the door.
“Hey mom,” I said as I slipped in.
“Hi honey,” she answered.
“Thanks for picking me up,” I said as she backed out and got to the road.
“How are you feeling? Do I need to take you to the hospital?”
“Of course not mom. I just barfed, no big deal.” Now if only I knew why…
“Are you sure? Do you need cough medicine?”
“Cough medicine is for coughing, not throwing-up.”
“Oh yeah, right.”
The rest of the ride was silent. The rest of the ride wasn’t that long, for my house was only about two or three miles away. I got into the house first. Damn it. She forgot to lock the door again. I dropped my book bag on the park bench beside the door. Mom walked in and talked about my health, “Go upstairs and get some rest.”
“Gladly.”
“What did you say?”
“Gladly, I would be happy to go upstairs and rest.”
“Don’t you bully me.”
“I’m not bullying you.”
“Fine, now get upstairs.”
I raced up the stairs. My language was also limited here. “Crap” is not acceptable, not even if you’re talking about poop. “Dang” is too close to “damn”, which she would blow up if I said either. Same with “frick” and “********”. If I’m angry and mom is trying to comfort me, I can’t say “I’m pissed off, leave me alone”, I have to let her sit there and try to comfort me.
I shut the door behind me. I landed face first on my bed and sighed. How did I get that orb again? Oh yes, I found it in a locker. Which one? Hmmm, the emo girl? No. I don’t think it was anyone’s locker. Then how did the orb get in there in the first place?
I crawled up to my pillow and took out the orb again. This time, it returned to normal size. I placed on top of my pillow and stared at it. I memorized the movement. Could the orb have messed with my stomach? Or my brain? Am I just going insane? No. I had to do something with this, this, thing that is sitting on my pillow. I thought of movies I’d seen with orbs. Lord of the Rings? I hovered my right hand over the rock, straining my fingers out. Nope, that didn’t work. I couldn’t think of any other movies I’ve seen, it was the popular girl hang out place.
I stared at it some more, predicting that it would move again. I poked it. “Move.” I commanded. It rolled into my hand. “What are you?” I asked out loud. Nothing happened. “What are you?”
I pressed the orb to my forehead in hope of something to happen. Something did happened. I could hear voices all around me. Different tones and genders. Different ages and races. All what seemed like stuffed into one room and saying their thoughts out loud. Some voices left and new one’s came. Usually old voices left and very young ones came. I pulled back from the orb and noticed I wasn’t breathing and took in a deep breath. I was also sweating. I wiped my brow and tried again. This time, one voice stood out. I pulled back again and breathed. I pressed my forehead to the orb one more time.
This voice was deep and mature, and boy’s voice about my age. I couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. I think he was saying my name, “Dune, Dune.” Over and over. “What is it?” I asked. But the voice ignored me. Blood falling from my head reminded me that I should breathe. I did so and stared at the orb, frustrated. “What are you?” I asked again. I couldn’t do that again, I was too weak and I would pass out. I stared and took deep breaths, curiously. Odd. The orb was changing color. A deep blue. The black accents weren’t black, but white. This color made me feel calmer, it felt familiar, like it was an old memory I loved. Something could be in this sphere that is sitting on my pillow. Something was living in there. Something was hiding in there. Whatever it was doing, I didn’t know, and I wanted to find out.
I shook the orb. Something solid rattled in there. I pressed my ear against it. I heard something different. It sounded like the wind combing through the tall grass. I noticed I was breathing this time, I could do this as long as I wanted. I loved the wind all my life. It fascinated me. Not just wondering where it comes from, but what was it saying? The wind spoke to me, and I was comforted. I stayed in that position for a long time, I was almost even in that scene, the wind flowing through my long, waist-length hair. I sighed an enjoyable sigh. When my body was soothed and numb, I pulled away.
I knew I needed one more time to figure this out, and I pressed my forehead against the orb. The same voice was there, saying the same name over and over, “Dune, Dune,”
“What?” I said. But nothing happened. Who is this person? I asked my self in my head. “I can’t tell you that.”
My eves widened. Why not?
“I’ll tell you later in life,”
How long is that going to take?
“It depends.” I didn’t mean for that last thought to be heard.
On what?
“On how long it takes you to figure things out.”
I gave up on talking to, what I concluded, a ghost. I heard someone creaking up the stairs. I hid the orb under my pillow quickly. Just as my door was cracking open, I smashed my face into the pillow.
“Are you ok honey?” my mom’s voice came to me from within the room.
“Yes,” I groaned.
“Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“Get some sleep.”
“Ok.” And she left.
I did take my mother’s advise and got into my pajamas. When I was ready to turn off the lights, I always memorize the way to the bed before I race to it in the darkness. But when I turned off the lights, something shined from under my pillow. I went over to my bed and unfolded the covers to reveal the mattress. I pulled out the orb and pressed my ear against it. I wanted to figure out what the orb meant, “figure things out”, but the soothing sound of the wind lulled me to sleep
I was crying, crying till the tears spilled down my soft cheeks. I couldn’t say this was a bad time to be crying, my life was about to end. My arm was bleeding and it felt like it was being squished between building and ground. My legs felt like logs against the cold floor. I was being held in arms, making the rest of my body off of the floor, but between the pain and the and the tears, I couldn’t see. But I knew who it was, it was always him. “It’ll be alright,” the deep voice said. “You’re safe now.”
“No, my arm feels like it’s going to fall off,” something wet fell on the base of my neck, but it wasn’t raining. “The healers will be here soon,” his voice was growing unsteady. “Make them come faster,” my voice weakened and the pain started to slip away. The arms tightened around me, pressing the rest of my body against his. He buried is face into my shoulder and sighed in sorrow. He pulled back to look at my face, “I love you,” and he kissed me, my lips barely responding to his. I wanted to throw my tongue into his mouth when he only molded his lips around mine, but this was a death kiss, I wanted to remember it.
The kiss seemed to hurt him when I couldn’t respond well and pulled away when I seemed to become weaker, and he sighed again. “I love you. I will love you till the end of time no matter where we are in life. If I’m in my three-hundredth life, I may not know it, but I will love you.” I tried to make it sounded like I was promising with the energy I had left. He pressed his ear to the middle of my chest, listening. I wanted to kick my heart rate up to make him stop worrying, but I was too weak. I started to sob quietly, and when I did so, he did too, maybe my heart was upsetting him.
The pain started to stop, along with my breathing. I think I was being thrown, but I knew nothing of where I was and what was happening. My vision clouded, so I closed my eyes, which would be the last thing I would do.
NAMES ARE BEING SUGGESTED. PLEASE ENTER YOUR SUGGESTED NAME FOR THIS BOOK IN A COMMENT
 averywind · Mon Jan 14, 2008 @ 02:42am · 1 Comments |
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