Dawn's Abyss

I was wrong; I didn’t make any progress that night on my abyss. After I’d gotten through my usual after-school routine, I drove my little truck to the gas station to fill him up. I decided if I was going to actually start driving the green Toyota that I should give it a name. It wasn’t exactly what I would call a contemporary vehicle, considering I’d had it for twelve years and it certainly hadn’t seemed modern then, either. I thought it had some character though. At last, I settled on Grandpa Plucky. It seemed very fitting.

When I returned to my house, it was 4:30. I took a brief shower and had even gotten my notebook out to draw some more. In the middle of my brainstorm, my eyelids began to sag and I slowly drifted off to sleep. I didn’t wake again until it was time to get ready for school the next morning.

My stomach growled with a vengeance and I regretted skipping dinner last night. I had a crook in my neck for falling asleep sitting up and a nasty case of morning breath. Other than that, it felt great to have gotten more than twelve hours of sleep. I had extra time to dawdle because I would actually be driving to school for once.

The end of the day couldn’t come fast enough. I’d actually ended up driving behind Ashton on the way to school. He asked if I had named ‘little Green’ yet and then laughed when I said it was Grandpa Plucky. It came as a relief to see him looking antsy, too. Apparently, he was just as excited as I was for school to end.

When the lunch bell rang, I didn’t waste any time getting to the cafeteria. I wasn’t quite fast enough for Ashton, though. He was just getting situated at my table when I walked in. I briefly wondered where Loraine had taken to sitting. I knew she had friends, but I wasn’t sure who they were. I’d seen her talking to Miss Rayneshine several times and figured they must get on well. Thoughts of them were quickly washed away when I sat down across from Ashton. His eyes were bright and he couldn’t seem to top fidgeting. I could only assume he’d had a big thermos of coffee this morning.

“So I was thinking we could go to my house for a couple of hours, maybe. You could meet my parents and we could do homework if that’s okay with you? Then, if you’re up to it, you could possibly give me a tour of your oh-so enigmatic home. Does it sound like a plan? He asked. I had to pause for a moment and piece together the words a second time in my head so that they made sense. He’d been speaking too fast for me to catch all of it.

Then, I nodded my head in agreement and began to eat my bologna sandwich. “Too much caffeine this morning,” I commented with a semi-teasing smile. I was still new to the light-hearted joking thing and figured it might take a while to get used to.

I watched in amazement as the sixteen-year-old boy sitting across from me ravenously devoured his concoction of a sandwich with a passion that would make someone think he hadn’t eaten for a month. I was more relieved than words could explain when Ashton had the decency to swallow before replying. I simply could not quite fathom how, with two healthy-sized mouthfuls in his mouth, he was able to swallow in one painful-looking gulp.

“I drank about a gallon of coffee because I felt like a zombie or something this morning. I slept horribly last night, i.e. not at all. I possibly got a minute or two here and there of shut-eye the entire night. You would’ve thought I was sleeping on a rock for all the tossing and turning I did!” he exclaimed.

That was odd. Could the fact that I slept more than I could ever remember in my life be relevant to his sleepless night? “I got thirteen hours,” I apologized guiltily. His mouth was once more nearly overflowing with contents of his fully-loaded sandwich and he had to gulp down another heap of it just to drop his mouth open to pretend-glare at me in amazement. I pondered the reasons why he would be surprised that I’d gotten so much sleep. Clearly, he wished he could’ve gotten even a fraction of that length, but he seemed genuinely shocked that I had slept for more time than what would equal half a day. I thought back to three mornings ago when I’d seen him jogging outside my window. Was it a possibility that he’d seen me watching him and had immediately pegged me for a morning person?

“There’s no way. I thought I’d hit the nail on the head when I labeled you as one of those people who’d never seen eight hours of sleep in their life,” he said, now on his last bite of Super-Sub, the Impossibly Large Sandwich.

In actuality, he was correct. Except for last night, he had hit the nail on the head. I wasn’t about to let him know that. “I love being stereotyped,” I mumbled mock-sarcastically. Maybe I was getting the hang of this expressive speech deal. Never having had to put a tone to my sentences other than ‘polite student’ when answering a teacher’s question, I was still adjusting to the confusing world of teen-talk. I didn’t think even an amateur knowledge of teen-talk would be acceptable for Mr. and Mrs. Voss, so how was I supposed to talk to them, if at all? Maybe I would treat them like I would a favorite teacher. That, at least, would be respectful.

For the rest of the lunch period, I listened to Ashton tell me all about his mother and father. Evidently, they were both slightly out there. Nancy Voss was some kind of doctor/scientist who often blew up bits of the basement. Deryll Voss was a music producer. That’s how he knew the name of the group who originally sang the song Ashton had performed for me in the park. I guessed that they weren’t hurting for money.

That guess was proved right about three-and-a-half hours later as I followed behind Ashton’s monster truck. We were rolling down a one-hundred yard long driveway paved of blacktop after getting admitted through the gates by a man behind some bullet-proof glass in the gate-house. This driveway led up to a five-story mansion of a home decked out in red brick and gray stone trimmings. Huge white pillars held up the roof of the porch, under which sat double French doors. It could have been a brick version of the white house.

I parked Grandpa Plucky next to where Ashton parked his own truck. This family was definitely not hurting for money. Intimidated by the formidable castle, the hood of my dark purple sweatshirt went up for the first time that day. I hadn’t put much thought into the reasoning behind that little habit of mine. Now, I realized I felt very safe with my face hidden. It made me feel less conspicuous, which had always been a good thing before.

Following Ashton to his front door, I hurriedly pushed my hood back down before entering the foyer behind him. Apparently, it mattered not whether I put my hood down because it would’ve fallen back anyway as I faced the ceiling to take in the whale of a chandelier. I could only assume it was pure crystal hung from golden chains. With four levels of differentiating sizes of crystals, it had to be worth more than Grandpa Plucky. In fact, I was sure it was.

“Nancy, hurry!” a male voice yelled from somewhere to the right of me. “Ashton’s here with his friend!”

My face grew warm and flushed as I returned my attention to eye-level and was met my polished, dark wood floors, a classic grand piano, and a surprisingly cozy-looking room beyond the front hall. That’s not to mention the two scurrying figures that were rapidly approaching.

“Brace yourself,” Ashton whispered to me. I knew it was supposed to be a joke, but I did as I was told anyway because I didn’t know what else to do. Clearly, I was not much of a people-person.

“You must be Dawn,” said the man whom I assumed to be Mr. Deryll Voss. “Welcome; we’ve heard so many good things about you.”

I might just have to ask his son about that later. For the time being, I stuck out my hand awkwardly and inhaled a deep breath. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Voss.”

Ashton’s mother was the first to shake my hand. She had short black hair and a lab coat on. I guessed she was just conducting some crazy scientific experiment before we’d arrive. “Please, call me Nancy.”

“And you can call me Deryll,” boomed Mr. Voss, grabbing me hand in a firm grip whereas his wife’s was gentle. I nodded my head politely, unsure of what to do next. I wasn’t really comfortable calling any adults by their first names, just as I mentioned with Miss Rayneshine, but I would feel disobedient if I didn’t do as they asked.

“We were so relieved when Ashton told us he had a friend coming over. Ever since we moved here, he hadn’t had any buddies over of gone out on the weekends. Would you believe our outgoing little fellow here actually enjoys spending time with his folks?” Mrs. Voss said fondly. I’d never actually seen two parents in action before. Even if they were slightly on the weirder side, it was obvious how much they loved and cared for Ashton.

“I think it’s nice,” I said with a small smile. I was inevitably reminded of my lack of two such caring parents or any parental figures for that matter. I only hoped that no such emotions showed on my face. I didn’t need to bother them with my own troubles. If what Ashton had said about his older sister was true, then they had enough child-related problems as is.

“Yes, it really is,” said Mr. Voss. “Well, kids, there are snacks in the lounge if you’re hungry. We’ll leave you to your homework.”

The two of us smiled in thanks, and Ashton gave each of them a hug before leading me down a hallway on the left. It didn’t surprise me that Ashton wasn’t too insecure to show affection toward his mom and dad in front of me. So far, he didn’t seem to get embarrassed about anything. That was certainly more than I could say. Then again, what would someone like Ashton Voss possible have to be insecure about? He was nice, social, athletic, good-looking, and a morally good person. What didn’t he have going for him?

I was saved from trying to find a fault in him, other than that he talked too much, when he opened a door on the right side of the hallway. I guess when Ashton’s dad had mentioned snacks, he’d meant a soda fountain and vending machine full of junk food that you didn’t have to pay for. Some people really did have it all, didn’t they? What did that leave me with? Grandpa Plucky wasn’t much of a consolation prize. I guess Whoever had been dealing out the Good Fortune cards around the time of my birth had either run out of them or just skipped me entirely.

“Yesterday, when I dropped you off at your house, you said that you would tell me why you asked that question about the red mini-van. It bothered you; I could tell,” he said, strolling over to the refreshments. He filled two plastic cups up with soda from the soda fountain and pressed some buttons on the vending machine. I heard the “plop” of something falling to the bottom before Ashton pulled out a bag of jelly beans and some Cheetos. I began my explanation.

“It was parked across my street two nights ago. Someone inside was watching,” I said shortly. It was hard to tell a good, or at least detailed and informative, story when doing my best to use the least amount of words possible.

Ashton set down one cup and the jelly beans in front of me. I took a sip and tasted Dr. Pepper. For himself, he’d snagged what looked like Mountain Dew and, of course, the Cheetos. I looked at the bag and cup in front of me with something that might resemble bewilderment. I hadn’t asked for anything, yet there in front of me were two of my favorite things in the world. That was kind of touching, really. But . . . how did he know? I thought about what I would’ve picked for him had the situation been reversed. He definitely struck me as the kind of guy who would want the most caffeinated soda out there, and long, crooked, cheesy puffs. It seemed kind of a strange combination to me.

“Basically, you think someone is keeping tabs on you? In other cases, I might think you were jumping to conclusions. However, I don’t think it’s normal for you to get worked up over something unless it was serious,” he voiced his thoughts on my confession aloud. He was right one that, at least. Normally, I might not have given a second thought to the mystery car. It was different because my life had so suddenly taken on a whirlwind of changes and nothing was the same anymore. I figured I had to be on my guard.

I nodded my head to indicate that those were my thoughts exactly. “Do you want to hear about my family life?” I asked timidly. I figured now would be as good a time as any.

“If you’re ready to tell me, I’m ready to listen,” he said calmly. Oh, and he was considerate, too. Maybe someone should write a book about all of his admirable qualities. I’m sure it would make for a good hundred pages or so. Nonetheless, I opened my mouth and it all came pouring out. Everything I’d ever worked to remain a secret came spilling in a cacophony of paragraphs like a spewing waterfall of words. I couldn’t believe myself, but I just kept going. I think I talked for twenty minutes straight. I told him everything about me. He learned that I’d been living alone since I was a little girl because my parents left me with naught but a monthly allowance that they would send through the mail. He learned that the reason I didn’t have a last name was actually because I didn’t know mine. I even threw in, at the end, anything I could think of to tell him about myself, like my favorite color, food, number, and animal. The whole time I spoke, I was horrified that I wouldn’t be able to stop and he would just get up and leave out of boredom at any moment.

I should’ve known better, of course. Ashton was a very good listener. He gave appropriate gasps and nods in all the right places. I couldn’t believe it was actually happening. In only three short days, I had grown to know and trust someone enough to let him in. What did that say about my judge of character – that I’m easy to be friend? I doubted it. I’d been friendless forever until Ashton. It obviously had something to do with the mental pull we’d been feeling toward one another since that early morning a few days ago. That didn’t figure anything out, though. Could it really just be fate? Two perfect strangers destined to find each other and be best friends for life.

When all was finally said and done, Ashton’s eyes were bigger than golf balls. At first I thought it was a this-girl-is-crazy look. After I studied it a moment longer, I realized it was more of a sympathetic you’ve-been-through-so-much look. I hadn’t thought that I’d embellished my story away from the truth because I really hadn’t experienced all that much adventure. Maybe that wasn’t his definition of having been through so much. It must have been something along the lines of me growing up without anyone to look up to or help me tie my shoes.

“I don’t really know what to say, Dawn. It’s not much, but I know how hard it must be for you growing up like that. Well, I don’t know, exactly, but I can imagine. Maybe we should go back to your house and check the mail. You said somebody sent that movie poster via post. Maybe there’s something else in there that could help us figure out what Mrs. Kurl and your stalker are up to. Would that be all right?” he asked.

I could only smile and nod my head in agreement. I guess I didn’t have a problem talking anymore, but maybe that was just in front of Ashton. Even if I were back to my usual, silent self, the relief I felt at being accepted by him left me speechless. This had to be a dream. It was some kind of cruel, twisted mind-game that was being played on me in my own insanity. Pinching my arm, I realized that I wasn’t hallucinating at all. That pinch had actually hurt and Ashton was really here, accepting me and my pathetic excuse of a past. He could be friends with someone who didn’t have any family.

We took Grandpa Plucky back to my house. Ashton left his truck behind because it was too eye-catching and he wanted to feel like a secret-agent when investigating the mysteries of my house and my stalker. I guess he was trying to bring his childhood fantasies back to life. I would never understand males . . . then again; I should probably begin to understand homosapiens in general before I could get to specific genders.

Before I could even pull to a stop in my seldom used driveway, Ashton hopped right out and made a beeline for the mailbox. It was really nice that he wanted to help me with it, but I just wasn’t sure why he was in such a hurry to do it. We were only sixteen, which mean that we had plenty of time for anything that was thrown our way.

“There’s a letter!” he shouted. I got out of Grandpa Plucky and went to unlock the front door of my house. I was once more ignorantly nervous of what Ashton would think of it. He hadn’t run away when I told him all of my tragic secrets. Why would he run now? The house was clean, at least.

Wait, he said there was a letter? Was it from my parents again? What if it was some sort of threat from the red mini-van driver? This was too much excitement in a day for one girl who was used to routine boredom. What was I supposed to do with this entire enigma that had so suddenly blasted its way into my life? I didn’t know if the anxiety was a welcome change from my formerly emotionless exterior. Would I rather be seemingly numb on the outside, or full of turmoil on the inside? I didn’t think both could harmoniously reside in one person together. I would be a walking contradiction!

He handed me the letter before going to explore the house. The envelope was small, rectangular, and white. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary about that. No words were typed or written over the outside. My hands picked at the seal until the lid broke free. The square corner or something black immediately caught my eye. I plucked it out with my fingers and unfolded the dark piece of construction paper.

13 3 11 14 9 7 8 20
3 15 2 14 21 20 20 15 14

That was all the paper had written on it. There were only fifteen digits scrawled across it, meaning God knows what. I mean, I was fairly intellectual, but that doesn’t mean I would be able to figure out some sort of secret code. I ran a hand through my wild hair in frustration. Perhaps Ashton’s secret-agent instincts would actually kick in and help me to figure out how to break this code.

“This is a cool place,” said a familiar voice from the stairs. “As much as I love my parents, I would kill for a place of my own some times.”

I nodded my head, but I couldn’t actually see where he was coming from. Each of us clearly had no idea what it would be like to take a walk in the other one’s shoes. As much as I wished I could imagine having siblings to bicker and bond with or parents to boss me around and take care of me, I just couldn’t. I would grow up not knowing what it felt like to have a family. At least, I now had a friend.

“I don’t understand these numbers,” I said, handing him the letter. He glanced over it quickly as I watched his face, hoping for some sort of recognition to dawn on him. I was, for once, disappointed in Ashton. Judging by the subsequent sentence, he had no more idea what the jumble of numbers could mean than I did.

“Sorry, but neither do I,” he admitted in defeat. “It seems to me that whoever wrote it would try and encode the letter in something they thought you would be able to figure out. Are you sure you’ve never seen anything like this before?”

I racked my brain zealously for any recollection of decoding cryptic, numerical messages. Unsurprisingly, nothing came to mind. “Not that I can remember,” I told him honestly. I’d always thought my memory was pretty good, but I couldn’t actually picture what my life was like before eleven years ago. I remembered my first day of kindergarten, and basically everything that followed. Before my fifth year, however, I drew a blank.

“That’s too bad,” he said frowning. There wasn’t really any more either of us could do, except some homework. And so we did. We worked together, mostly in silence. I suppose it was because we were each so deep in thought about my current predicament. Schoolwork seemed moderately mindless compared to everything else I had on my plate.

It didn’t take us long to finish. I was delighted to find that he was as smart as I’d hoped he was. I mean, it was no secret that he was a fairly intelligent guy, but he was also a football player. However stereotypical that sounded, I also heard the way he talked about the rest of his football players. Maybe his notation of that was proof enough that he wasn’t like the rest of them.

“I guess I’ll see you later, then?” he asked as he packed up his books and prepared to leave. As much as I hated to admit, it was hard to watch him go. He knew my secret now. I had someone to talk to whom I could be honest and open with. The only thing that prevented me from getting all clingy was the fact that I knew I would see him at school tomorrow. That was a comfort. Besides, nobody wanted a clingy best friend.