Masked

Cogitationis poenam nemo patitur
Nobody should be punished for his thoughts

MY MIND was a strange place to dwell—or that was I’d always been told, but it wasn’t like anyone had actually bothered to stop by and pay a visit. I supposed it could be a strange place, but I was writer at heart and things were traveling in and out of my noggin everyday. Take today for example, staring down at the ground floor outside where all the bright leaves were swirling around in the autumn wind resurrected the memory of my brother Kevin and I playing outside.

We were just little kids at the time and our parents had just gotten married, so we were forced to endure the company of each other more often than we had before. It wasn’t that I didn’t love my older brother; it was more that I didn’t like him much before because we had the same name. Because of that detail, I had avoided him to the best of my power, but Mom usually had other plans for the two of us. I was reluctant to do anything with Kevin when I had learned, after the first few play dates, that he was troublemaker, however Mom didn’t care. The pranks had been on me at first, but when my novelty wore off I somehow transformed into the watch out.

That day Kevin was hiding up in a large oak tree that was a few blocks away from our new home in Hell, Michigan. I remembered it being cold and complaining about that fact, but Kevin wouldn’t hear my whines; he just ignored me. I glared up at him before returning my stare to the front, watching for any sight of an adult. I didn’t like what he was planning to do to some poor pedestrian who had the wise idea to take a walk on that chilled autumn afternoon. I remained silent though, because Kevin wouldn’t have listened to me. He never really did and still didn’t.

Just as the ache in my feet was becoming too much to bear I heard the soft shuffle of footsteps and humming. My heart speeding up, I peeked around the large trunk of the tree. The unsuspecting girl had short blonde hair, barely brushing her shoulders. She wore a knitted purple cap atop that blonde hair, purple jacket and purple boots to match. Purple Cap’s attention was solely focused on the object in her hands which was a purple gameboy.

Purple Cap was also the perfect target for pranks.

Glancing up to Kevin, I could see he was grinning like the Cheshire cat as his eyes locked on Purple Cap. He positioned the water balloon high over his head, waiting patiently for the ideal moment in which to release the balloon onto unsuspecting Purple Cap. My eyes darted to the water balloon then to Purple Cap’s gameboy. Prior to coming out here to play guard, I had watched a Bugs Bunny cartoon. In the cartoon, Bugs Bunny had used electricity and water to shock the Hairy Monster in order to escape. I wasn’t sure if the same thing could happen with Purple Cap’s gameboy, but I couldn’t take the chance. When Kevin let go of the water balloon I dashed out, pushing Purple Cap out of harm’s water-electric ways.
Cold water erupted over my head, falling down into my face, and Purple Cap’s eyes went wide with surprise. I opened my mouth to say something, anything so not to look like a complete freak, when Kevin clambered down from tree, clearly angry with my interfering. I could tell he was really upset with me because his face—

“Miss Morgan!” Mr. Tyler shouted brusquely, causing me to jump in surprise. Ripping my eyes from the distraction of the window, I faced my crimson-faced Chemistry teacher. I heard the hushed snickers of my peers as I had been caught red-handed of my bad behavior and fidgeted uncomfortably. This couldn’t possibly end well for me.

“Sir?”

“Is there something funny about the properties of Alkali Metals?” Mr. Tyler demanded of me, and I realized I had been grinning like a fool.

“No, there isn’t,” I murmured, retracting the silly grin and cast my eyes down.

“Why don’t you tell me a few properties then, Miss Morgan?” Mr. Tyler said, crossing his skinny arms across his chest. A smirk was plastered on his face, but he didn’t know that I had read the chapter on the properties of Alkali Metals nearly two weeks ago. I tossed around the idea of spouting off all the properties because surely my rat of a teacher hadn’t named every single one within a fifteen minute time span, or naming only a few. I chose the latter because I didn’t feel like dueling with my Chemistry teacher.

“Alkali Metals are located in group 1A of the periodic table. They usually have the physical properties common to metals. They only have one electron in their outer layer, which is loosely bound. And I believe they react fairly well with nonmetals if I’m correct.” I listed, biting my lip to keep from smirking triumphantly. Typically I would allow him to make a fool out of me in class if only to gain some favor, but I had allowed it to happen far too often, and he was beginning to think that I was actually stupid.

Mr. Tyler’s cheeks puffed up while his black eyes narrowed on me before he whirled around on his heel and resumed his lecture. I was tempted to stick my tongue out at him, but knowing my luck; he’d turned around and catch me in the middle of my childish act.
I was barely able to catch a bit of his angered muttering, “—hardly any different.”

Despite the love I had for my stepbrother, it was moments like this that I abhorred the fact that we shared the same name. I didn’t understand the reasoning behind it, but somehow I was instantly labeled troublemaker when teachers learnt my name. I wasn’t able to wrap my mind around how I could be labeled such when I was a mild-mannered girl who enjoyed writing and hanging out with either friends or family. What else about me beside my accursed name could possibly shout troublemaker?

I fingered the electric blue streaks I had poking in and out of my dark hair. I was sure that this could have been taken as an act of rebellion against authority, but it had just been done because I’d been bored. If I had been really rebelling against authority I wouldn’t have come to school today, and I wouldn’t have been able to answer Mr. Tyler’s question because I wouldn’t have read the text book containing all the knowledge of Chemistry. Or maybe I’d be streaking down the halls nude screaming some type of nonsense and attempting to out run the campus police—but I wasn’t. Why couldn’t people just stick to labeling cloths?

My eyes darted to the clock, telling me I still had nearly forty-five minutes left in this class. My eyes returned to the window to my left, the wind scattering the leaves in different directions. I thought about Kevin, and how he was attending college in California now. I brushed away the nostalgic memories as they made me lonely. I missed Kevin a lot, and it made me sad sometimes to think about him.

I doodled on the paper that should have been serving as my notes for that day for the rest of the period, answering every question Mr. Tyler could think to throw at me.

When the bell rang and all my stuff was gathered, Mr. Tyler called me over to his desk. “Miss Morgan, could you please come over here for a moment?” Mr. Tyler never referred to me by my first name due to him having Kevin the year before.

Knowing already what he planned on telling me, I withheld a groan and walked over there, “Yes, Mr. Tyler?”

“This is the seventh time this week I’ve caught you staring out a window instead of paying attention in my class. Do I need to move you again?” I could tell by the redness of his neck that he was upset with me still. It wasn’t a justified anger seeing as I had answered all the questions he’d thrown at me correctly. I’d always thought teachers would be happy to know that a student was avidly studying in her free time, but clearly Mr. Tyler was not this type of teacher. There was no pleasing this man.

I wanted to point out that he had already moved me three times, and each time it didn’t help me pay attention any better, but I didn’t. “No, I’ll try to pay more attention next time, sir.”
He took a deep breath as if to calm himself before answering me, “But you’ve said this before, Miss Morgan. How am I supposed to believe you?” My Chemistry teacher pressed me, looking for an excuse to give me detention.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Tyler, but I don’t know the answer.” I pushed up my glasses and shifted my weight to the other foot. I fought the urge to look at the clock; Mr. Tyler was eating away my passing period. I was sure he was hoping to delay me so I would be late to my class and get a detention. He didn’t care who I got it from as long as I received a detention. Rat.

He sighed like it was hard for him to do this, but the sigh sounded forced to my ears. “Miss Morgan, this is your last warning. If I catch you not paying attention again, I will give you a detention and change your seat to the front.”

“All right,” I retorted. “May I leave now?”

“Yes.”

I rushed to my locker, relieved that I still might have enough time to gather my things for my history class. I smiled to myself and thought, Ha! Take that Mr. Tyler! As I approached my locker I noticed my friend, Jennifer, standing there grinning like her usual happy self. She had changed a lot since her purple cap days. Her hair was longer and there was a kink from when she had broken her nose four year ago now. But other then those minor changes, everything was pretty much the same from when I’d pushed her out of the water balloon’s path.

“Hey, what’s up?” I casually asked as I spun my combination and opened my locker.

“Nothing much, English was a drag. How about you?” Jen leaned against the locker next to mine, her history book already in her tanned hand.

“Mr. Tyler caught me staring out the window again and gave me ‘The Lecture’.” I answered using air quotes.

Jen laughed, “When will he understand that his class is just too boring to bother playing any attention too? I wonder why he picks on you so much though.”

“Probably because Kevin was in his class last year.” I guessed. I chuckled at remembering all the stories Kevin told me about breaking test tubes, exploding things on purpose or accident. Sometimes it wasn’t any wonder why Mr. Tyler bullied me.

“It’s not like you’re like him, right? I mean just because you happened to have the same name as him, it doesn’t mean your going to be exactly like him.” Jen rolled her golden-green eyes, “Mr. Tyler needs to get over himself.”

“Well, there isn’t much I can do now. And besides, there are only a few more months until we’re in college.” I nudged her. I was glad Jen bought my façade of excitement about college, when in reality I was frightened out my wits about going to college.

“Ugh, thank God!” She groaned.

I laughed as we both walked into Econ and took our seats. The desks were in five rows with six desks in each roll, and this time it was Jen who was placed by the window seat, not that I minded. This was a class where I could listen and not be distracted by my ideas, which were few and far in between, or memories. My eyes soaked in the familiar environment surrounding me and my peers.

The classroom was littered with history books of all sorts, most relating to history in some manner: renaissance, world wars, the dark ages, history’s greatest mysteries. That was what I liked most about my Econ teacher, she wasn’t just centered around one time period like most of the history teachers I had in the past. Maps covered every wall since my Econ teacher also taught world history to the freshmen fifth period. Ms. White’s desk was located to the far left corner where she kept a mini fridge and microwave, choosing to eat in her room with the few students who remained after the lunch bell rang.

A few minutes late, Ms. White tottered in; her small arms filled with stacks of white paper that I assumed were for her fifth period since we never got worksheets. Setting down her stack, she pivoted on her heel and faced the class.

Ms. White was a woman in her mid to late thirties with tree bark brown curls that she always wore back and moss green eyes. She wasn’t tall, maybe hitting five foot two, but she was the teacher that held both the awe and fear in most of the students of the senior class. I was one of those students that wanted to earn her approval but fear her judgment.

Today she looked exhausted with lavender colored semicircles under her eyes. Her skin which held a healthy, light golden grow from years of being out doors, was a sickly pale and was pulled tightly over her body, giving her the appearance of a cancer patient.

“Good morning class.” Ms. White tiredly greeted us. The chattering students fell silent at the sight of our usually lively and happy teacher.

“’Morning.” We hesitantly replied.

“I hope that you’ve all at read a few pages in you book last night,” She began, turning to the white board and scribbling down notes. “Because if you didn’t then prepare to be thoroughly confused, boys and girls.”

I caught Jen’s eyes and mouthed, is she all right?

Jen merely shrugged and turned her eyes to the lecture that she hadn’t prepared for.

I returned my eyes to the front and watched Ms. White from the back, noticing small things: how she was moving slower than usual, how it took her a moment to gather her thoughts, and how she could hardly stand without gripping her desk tightly, turning her already white knuckles see through. I understood perfectly well that people got sick, but there was something about how she was acting and how Ms. White looked that made me anxious for her. Whatever was going on with Ms. White wasn’t anything normal.

The period continued on with Ms. White lecturing the class, and in turn the class took notes of everything she said and wrote on the board behind her. I kept sneaking glances over to her, perplexed by this nagging worry I had about her unknown condition. I couldn’t explain why I felt the way I did, but something about her pale skin and exhaustion sent off warning bells in the back of my mind.

History ended quicker than I expected, but I had been so caught up in my thoughts that time seemed irrelevant. Jen was instantly at my side and together we made our way outside the classroom. Smiling at Jen, I pushed the weird thoughts from my mind. I was sure everything would be fine with Ms. White; it wasn’t my business any way.

We weren’t even a few doors away from Ms. White’s room when Jen’s name was called out by a silky smooth voice; it was a voice impossible to mistake. Jen froze and, out of habit, I stopped as well, looking curiously over my shoulder. While the voice was unmistakable, I still didn’t know whose voice it was.

Eli Cross strode down the hall with a thick air of confidence, hands tucked deep into the cliché black leather jacket that screamed bad boy. His dark hair was tousled, reaching the bottom of his ear in length, and his silvery charcoal grey eyes were alit with mischief. My insides began to squirm at the mere sight of him because of reasons unbeknownst to me. Eli’s eyes and mine met for a moment, and an involuntary shiver ghosted down my spine before he broke off first, returning his gaze to Jen. A smirk graced his handsome face as he sauntered up to my best friend and me. But the uncomfortable feeling never let the pit of my stomach. Today was just full of strange occurrences.

Jen, recovering from the shock of Eli Cross calling out to her, smiled coyly at him and batted her eyes sweetly. I rolled my eyes at this and debated with myself whether I should stay and wait for Jen while Eli asked her whatever it was he’d come here for, or if I should go on ahead, leaving Jen here alone with Eli. I bit back a repressed sigh as I crossed my arms and shifted my weight to the other foot. I stared down the now empty hall, and my senses shifted away from the real world into one of the many worlds I had created. It was better than watching Jen act shy and flirty when she was really quite devious.

I was sure it was because of this reason, because I withdrew into my head instead of remaining in the outside world, that people other than the few who knew me found me odd. It wasn’t something I could really help. When I thought of ideas, conflicts, plots and characters there wasn’t any stopping this from happening. I was completely powerless to containing these thoughts—and I didn’t want to.

Jen lightly touched my forearm, jolting me from the comforts of my unreal worlds. I smiled apologetically, stuffing my hands deep in my jacket’s pockets. I happened to glance over to Eli for no real reason and found him staring at my curiously. Heat flooded my cheeks, and I could be sure that I was probably really red in the face, but I frowned at my reaction. Why was I embarrassed? I have grown up my entire like receiving looks similar or exactly the same as the one Eli was giving me now.

My stomach grumbled and my embarrassment was forgotten as Jen let out an airy chuckle. Eli gave me a causal, lopsided grin that made me nervous again, and I looked away embarrassed.

“Let’s get some lunch shall we?” Jen said chirpily to both Eli and me, setting off.

Eli spoke next, his words flowing out like honey. “Actually, I was hoping that I could steal Jen away for lunch today. Would you mind, Kevin?”

I stumbled a bit as I heard my name—my actual name—spoken out loud, and it filled me with a giddiness that made it impossible for me to deny him the company of my best friend. That and the pleading look in Jen’s green-gold eyes made it difficult to refuse her some time with Eli. Ignoring the uneasy feeling currently taking residence in my stomach, I nodded and waved goodbye to Jen and Eli as they headed off toward some secluded area of the cafeteria.

The loud chatter of different conversations harassed my ears while I maneuvered around the tables to where Sean and his girlfriend of seven months, Melissa, resided. I ungracefully plopped down in the chair—something my mother often chastised me for doing at home—and pulled out my lunch, eyeing Sean as he liked to take my food since he claimed that his “taste funny.”

Sean smiled his goofy grin at me in greeting, his shock of dyed black hair falling into his chocolate eyes. He reached a hand over toward my grapes, earning a firm smack on the hand. I scoped up my bag of grapes, hugging them to my chest while sending him a playful glare. It earned me an amused laugh from Mel and Sean.

Sean first appeared in our lives when Jen and I were in seventh grade, and his family moved to Hell from Utah. There weren’t many Mormons in Hell, none in the junior high we all attended. It was inevitable that strange rumors spread around about his family, ostracizing him. Sean had been a pretty wimpy kid back in junior high; his long, gangly limbs held no muscle. The only thing keeping the other kids from physically hurting him was his older brother, Trey. Though the kids at school didn’t stop teasing him when Trey wasn’t around.

I wasn’t sure what Jen saw in Sean when she announced that she was in love with Sean Jones during one of our sleepovers. It was nothing against Sean, but he just wasn’t her type. It hadn’t been too long since Jen telling me the current object of her affection before they’d become an idem. I’d placed a bet with Kevin after a week of their dating, knowing full well that I would win the time slot I’d chosen. What I hadn’t bet on was that Sean wasn’t an ordinary boy—it wasn’t that they stayed together longer than any other of her relationships (typically between three to six months). Sean was the only boy that I knew of who remained friends with Jen after having been in a relationship with her.

I looked over at Sean, seeing the many years of change that had occurred. His once mouse brown hair was dyed black and he had finally grown into his lanky body, developing some muscle along the way. This was thanks to him joining the baseball team back during freshmen year, and now he was captain of said team. He looked more like Jen’s type now then he had in seventh grade, and I was surprised they hadn’t tried dating again. Still, despite these physical changes I’ve watched happen over the years to both Jen and Sean, they still remained my friends even though I was considered strange by many of my peers. And for that I was would be eternally grateful.

Mel spoke, breaking through my thoughts. “Where’s Jen?”

“Mm?” I swallowed my half-chewed bite of PB&J. “She’s eating lunch with Eli today.”

“Eli? As in Eli Cross—the Eli Cross?” Mel gasped, her blue eyes growing wide with surprise. I hadn’t found their interest in each other all that surprising, but I nodded any way. “Wow, didn’t he just break up with Heather Summers?”

“Be back, guys.” Sean informed us when he noticed the lunch line had finally died down, or using that as an excuse to get away from Mel’s gossip. I, on the other hand, had nowhere to run; luckily I’d developed the skill of tuning others out if need be.

I shrugged; waving goodbye to Sean’s back and popped a grape into my mouth. “I don’t know. He must’ve if he is going after Jen.”

“He did. I saw them during passing period last week; she refused to come out of the bathroom after he broke it off with her.” Mel gossiped, brushing her blonde hair off her shoulders. “It hasn’t even been a week yet! I mean, everyone knows that the typical waiting period after breaking up with someone is two weeks! That at least gives both parties to cope with the loss.”

“You’re talking like someone’s spouse died and the survivor feels guilty about dating again,” I pointed out. “And how do you know what a typical waiting period is? Have you been reading those stupid teen love stories again, Mel?” I demanded, my lips pressing into a firm line.

Mel’s eyes shied away from mine as she allowed her hair to fall forward, hiding her pink cheeks from my sight. “No,” She murmured like a sullen child who had just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

“Liar,” I laughed, popping another grape in my mouth. For as long as I had known Mel she had always had this thing for reading cheesy love stories about teenagers. “If you really want to read love stories, read Jane Austen’s books. She wrote the original story of a hate-to-love relationship. It is definitely something you’d like.”

“Yeah, all right,” Mel said tersely before switching the conversation back to Eli Cross. “Aren’t you at all concern about Jen being with Eli, KJ?” Like Sean and the rest of his family, Melissa had taken to calling me by my first two initials—KJ for Kevin Jessica. They did the same thing to Kevin—KC for Kevin Christopher.

“I care about her if that’s what you’re asking.” I answered, wondering why she was so worked up about Eli. “I know how Jen is, and there isn’t any stopping her when she meets a guy. Remember that Sean was once a boy she was ‘in love with’?” Then it dawned on me, “Are you jealous of her still or something? I thought we had been over this—” Mel cut me off.

“I’m not jealous about the relationship that Sean and Jen had in the seventh grade. I mean, yeah at first I was, but I know that they’re just friends now. Jen is the kind of girl who only dates someone once.”

I bit back my retort knowing that Mel hadn’t meant anything mean and motioned for her to continue.

“Have you heard any of the rumors about Eli? Aren’t you at all concerned about her wellbeing?” Mel asked me again, looking imploringly at me.

“Of course I care—she’s my best friend. And so what about the rumors? They’re just that, Mel, rumors. We all know what it’s like getting stung by false allegations, why should we help spread those lies around?” I demanded, past memories burned the back of my eyes, and I would be damned before I allowed another to suffer the same sting I did from those vile lies.

“Has anyone ever accused you of rape, KJ?” Mel took my stunned silence as a confirmation that I hadn’t and went on, “I didn’t think so. I get that most rumors aren’t true but sometimes, KJ, they are. What if the rumors about Eli being a rapist are true? Do you remember the girl from last year, Claire Wright?” I opened my mouth to answer but Mel kept going. “She had been dating Eli when it happened.”

“When what happened, Mel?” I queried, thinking about the strange feeling in my gut that I’d had when I’d been near Eli earlier. Had my body been trying to tell me something my subconscious mind had noticed?

“No one knows for sure if he did it or not because lack of evidence, but Claire swears the Eli Cross raped her. Haven’t you ever noticed something wrong with the girls he dates?”

“No,” I murmured guilty. I was always in my own world and far too busy to pay attention to the girls Eli took interest in. All I really knew about him were some silly rumors like him being a drug dealer or in a witness protection program, that we shared a few classes, and that he was an avid dater. Eli and I hadn’t ever spoken to each other aside from today when he asked my permission to eat lunch with Jen. Was Eli really a rapist? Or was it just a rumor spread around by spiteful Claire because he dumped her for another girl like he always did?

I was starting to understand Melissa’s annoyance with me for not being more concern about Jen.

Her annoyance became more evident when she groaned, throwing her hands up dramatically. “Honestly, woman! Stop living in your head and notice the world out here, not in there.” She reprimanded me, pointing to the middle of my forehead.

“Mel,” came Sean’s sharp voice, his eyes flashed a warning at his girlfriend before taking his seat beside her. Sean and Jen were very protective of me just as I was of them, and I gave Sean a small smile of thanks. I didn’t mind, of course, that Mel brought up my problematic quality because I had only begun berating myself a moment ago. Mel was right about not noticing the world around me, and it might prove harmful for me if I don’t take in reality more often.

My curiosity was piqued though, and I wanted to know more. “Don’t worry about it, Sean, it’s fine.” I said hurriedly, not wanting Mel to become too hurt over Sean’s reaction. “What’s wrong with the girls Eli dates?”

Sean groaned from across the table, rolling his eyes but said nothing when Mel sent him a dirty look. Mel turned her blue hues back to me as I look between the two for a moment, hoping that I hadn’t elicited a fight between them.

“It’s hard to explain, and it’s easier if you’ve seen it for yourself.” Mel paused, searching for a way to explain what she’d perceive while I’d been goofing off in my head. “It just seems like every girl who has been with Eli gets sick—unearthly sick. I don’t know how to word it, it’s just really weird—Eli is really weird.” Mel finished lamely and I regretted telling Sean that it was fine with Mel. She hadn’t told me anything useful, hadn’t told me anything that would quiet the worry that was slowly gripping my body.

“They’re just rumors, you guys.” Sean put in after Mel and I were quiet for a moment. Mel rolled her eyes, clearly tired of hearing that.

Leaning back, I let my eyes wander the lunch room and took in what I had just learned about the strange boy Eli. The loud clatter of students was slowly fading out as I entered the limbo linking reality and my mind together when my brown hues happened to land on Eli and Jen in the far right corner of the room.

Eli was laughing, now, at something funny Jen must have said but his eyes held not warmth or kindness. I was too far away from the two to tell if my observation was true, but I somehow felt that it was true. This chary feeling made me fidget and crack my index and middle fingers continuously even though it was impossible after the first time. My Mom told Kevin and me a plethora of times when we were kids that a true monster wasn’t ugly or disgusting looking but beautiful. She had told us it was the most dangerous type of monster, that the charming and polite type of monster was the deadliest. I couldn’t deny that Eli was beautiful, and it made me wonder if it was possible that he was only disguised in a pretty mask.

It was then that Eli decided to look away from Jen, almost as if sensing my gaze, and met my brown eyes. Amusement lit his silvery eyes, a knowing smiled adorned his pretty face. With the blood rushing to my cheeks, I quickly looked away, only to glance back when I was sure he wasn’t watching me anymore. I tried to study Eli in sharper detail, tried taking in everything he did as if it that would give me the answer to my silent questions, but that was more difficult than I thought.

And again, Eli felt my eyes on him as I watched his movement, looking for something that would put to rest my worries and looked up at me. I watched as he smirked at me, causing me to blush again, before he turned away. I began scolding myself for such a reaction, after all he was Jen’s now—even if it didn’t last long, he would always be hers. I was so caught up in giving myself a lecture that I almost missed it—the flash of stark white skin.

Unearthly sick Mel had called it, and I now had an inkling of what she meant. Skin so white that it had a sickly aura to it that wasn’t possible, or at least it shouldn’t have been. Yet I’d seen it, but it hadn’t been Jen’s skin or any other girl in the cafeteria, it had been Eli’s skin. I bit my lower lip, bemusement coloring my facial features as I attempted to figure out just what was going on, but it was similar to trying to finish a puzzle with more than half the pieces missing.

“Yeah,” I finally answered Sean quietly, “just rumors.” Maybe, I silently added still watching Eli.

∞

The knowledge of Eli possibly being a rapist and that mysterious ghostly pale skin whirled around in my mind as the chilled wind blew around me, attacking my legs with their arctic power. I stuck my hands as deep in the pockets of my jackets in an attempt to save them from the cold; it was defiantly just another cold day in Hell. I wanted to forget everything I had learned about the beautiful boy Eli Cross, but my mind simply wouldn’t permit that to happen. My thoughts returned to the facts I’d learnt earlier unwarranted, Melissa’s words echoed in my mind when I’d had the audacity to believe that I had forgotten everything about him.

I sighed heavily, watching with vague interest as my breath came out as vapor. Right now, Jen was alone with Eli and there wasn’t a thing I could have done to prevent that from happening. Besides me Sean muttered a quiet curse as he shivered in the cold and wrapped his arms around himself to conserve his body warmth. I’d decided that since Sean wasn’t doing anything majorly important this cold afternoon I’d stop by his house for a friendly visit. Trey hadn’t been able to pick us up because of a college class that didn’t get out for another hour. I had told Trey it was fine, we’d just walk. Now I understood why Sean was sulking, the cold bothered him; he was such a sissy.

I just rolled my eyes as a violent shiver passed through Sean’s body, a smile touching my cold, chapped lips. He should count his blessings that it hadn’t rained at all on the way home, though the clouds looked threatening enough.

Sean told me to wait outside, seeing that his mother’s car wasn’t parked in the driveway and hurried inside. It was a Jones’ rule that none of their children couldn’t be alone in their home with a girl/boy regardless of whom she/he may be; including me though I was practically Sean’s sister. I took the moment I had alone outside to survey the Jones’ house. The house itself was a large one with three stories to accommodate the Jones’ large family—they had a grand total of ten children—and was fairly modern looking. Sean being the fifth oldest had five younger siblings that ranged from the ages of thirteen to three, and their presence shown as the crisp, green lawn was covered with toys, and there was a tire swing hanging from the large oak tree that was making a creaking sound because of the wind. From my many visits here, I knew that there was a garden situated in the back surrounded by a white picket fence that Mr. Jones had surprised Mrs. Jones with on their twenty-third anniversary.

The cold wind ruffled my hair as it blew the thin layer fog around, reminding me of dancing faeries. Then, finally, while I was entranced with the dancing fog did Sean come back outside, calling me inside. The inside wasn’t nearly as messy as the outside was, but that was only thanks to Mrs. Jones’ strict cleaning that she did everyday while all the kids were in school.

Today, Sean and I would be spending our time in their living room where the game systems was located. Sean was a brave soul as he was the only one I knew now who was willing to play a video game with me. I wasn’t sure why they flustered me so, but I couldn’t help but lose my temper when I was beginning to lose the fighting game we were playing.

“Left, fool, left!” I shouted to my virtual character like it would do any good. I had my back against the arm of their goose feather russet couch, leaning to my left as I kept jamming my thumb against the control stick. I struggled to keep my fighter alive as Sean’s stupid character murdered me. I let out an agitated groan as K.O. came up in bold red, repeating what I already knew.

Sean chuckled as he restarted the game that I’d lost at every time since arriving here an hour ago. I threw a dark look in his direction and it sent him into a fit of laughter; while my violent game tendencies often elicited two reactions from people—I either scared them from my continuous shouting, or whoever I was playing with got annoyed with me and refused to play—Sean only found amusement in my bouts of anger.

I sootched down a little, my right foot connecting with Sean’s lean thigh as I kicked him playful, and set the controller down on the coffee table. Covering my eyes with my arm, I sighed knowing that I would be leaving soon. I was meant to pick up Carson, my younger half-brother, and it would take me at least a half hour to get home. But I wasn’t ready to get up and venture out into the cold, though I may love it.

Pushing myself up off the Jones’ comfy couch, I walked over to their sliding glass door. The sky was still filled with dark clouds, and the wind’s howls echoed quietly through the glass protection. This was the perfect weather for all the things I loved doing: baking, sitting in my too large chair reading, drinking hot chocolate or tea. Those were the things I thought of when I saw the weather slowly changing the leaves of certain trees, or watched the sky turn darker and darker over time, or when I stayed up late at night unable to sleep; however, today when I looked into the coal-colored clouds it wasn’t those things that flashed in my mind, but Eli Cross, and I felt petty jealousy flare. It was always Jen the boys went to, always her they sought out. My only boyfriend has been Trey Jones, and even that had withered away into nothing but a stronger friendship.

Shrugging the thoughts of Eli away for I found his amused smile and callous eyes all too frightening, I went to fetch my boots. Trey arrived home just as I was tugging my boots to make sure that they were snug and wouldn’t allow any autumn’s chill in. I smiled my greeting at him, and he in turn questioned me on how my eldest brother was doing. I could tell that Trey missed Kevin nearly as much as I did, they’d been best friends since Sean and the rest of them had moved here five years ago.

I gave the barest hint of a shrug as I straightened up, taking in the sight of Trey as it had been several months since I last saw him. We’d both been so busy with our lives, never having anymore time for the other that we just decided that it would be better to see other people. So far he’d been the only one to have seen other people, and I couldn’t blame the other girls for liking him. From his mop of brown-blonde hair to his pouty, pillow lips that I’d love kissing to his strong body that I knew he took care of by going to the gym six times a week for two hours. But it was that smile he had that got most of the girls.

“Still as quiet as ever, I see.” Trey teased me, gracing me with the smile that I loved most; the one that was still mine.

I laughed, “Old habits die hard.” We continued to talk about miscellaneous things ranging from school to what books we were reading until I took my leave, waving goodbye to Sean’s Mom who was situated in the front watering some roses despite knowing that the cold would kill them.

Now alone, and with cold biting into my clothed flesh, thinking about Eli Cross was unavoidable. Were any the rumors possibly true? Could he be a rapist? Did girls grow sick while in a relationship with him, and if so, why? Should I worry about Jen? Was my worry justified? Rumors had played a key role in my life, so I knew that they were typically lies spread by someone who had nothing better to do with their time. Then I remembered his eyes.

It wasn’t normal for someone to have such callous eyes, not even the ones who feigned callousness couldn’t pull off such cruel eyes. Crossing my arms, I bit into my lip too hard and I yelped loudly. It hadn’t been a strong enough bit to elicit blood, but it was tender and stung in the autumn chill.

I continued with my internal debate (it is possible he could be a rapist; you live in Hell, you twat, you’re more likely to get stuck by lightening than meet up with an actual rapist! Eli must be doing something to the girls, though. It’s not normal for so many girls to get sick with the same guy; where’s the proof? People get sick all the time for no apparent reason, take Ms. White for example. Coincidences do exist, you know) all the way to my house, the threat of my headache growing larger was enough to make me shy away from the topic for now.

Seeing my father’s navy blue Chevy truck parked in our lonely driveway made me forget about the pain of my headache. My stepfather was often gone because of his popular science fiction series, and today was his return from an out of state book signing done down in California near the town where Kevin was attending college.

“I’m home, Dad!” I called loudly in my excitement, jiggling the keys from the door knob. The house was warm and smelled like burning wood; one of my most favorite scents. Hearing jazz music emanate from the den where Dad’s stereo was located I hurriedly made my way down the hall, hoping that I’d catch him before he retired to his room. The narrow hallway was adorned with family photos, some of us kids growing up over the years and school pictures.

A light snore drifted toward my ears, and I saw that Dad looked rather comfortable in his relined lazy boy with a cold beer resting on Mom’s wooden coffee table. I tiptoed over to the small table, placing a coaster underneath so he didn’t get in trouble with Mom then covered him with a blanket. I smoothed some cinnamon hair from his dark face; my own skin pallid compared to his russet tone, and wondered how on earth people could think Alan and I were biologically related. It was a fact that confused many people because they couldn’t understand why someone as young as me with such fervor for writing wasn’t genetically related to the author of our family. My hand still lingering on the face of the man who had brought so much happiness into both my mother’s and mine life, I planted a sweet kiss on his forehead. Dad stirred quietly before his snoring ensued and then I left the room.

I toss my things onto the couch, cursing when I saw the content of my bag spill onto aforementioned couch and floor. I sighed, but ignored it as I headed out the door because I was already running late to pick Carson up today.

∞

By the time I’d gotten to Carson’s bus stop my face was numb from running in the autumn’s cold. I pressed my cold but slightly warmer fingers to my face, flinching a little as that minute heat stung. I kept my hands on my cheeks until they warmed, and my hands had turned a frosty sallow color. The color reminded me of that momentary flash of white I saw in the cafeteria, though my skin wasn’t anything in comparison. Mentally I turned away from thoughts of Eli, and physically I turned my face heavenward, seeing a few rays of pale sunlight dance upon the treetops. It almost seemed like they were basking in the glory of winning something over the clouds, enjoying that small victory. I gave those rays an encouraging smile, though I knew that they would be consumed by the clouds again; it was the path of the weak.

A bored sigh escaped my lips as I paced back and forth to kill sometime, but it is doing little to entertain me. With the cold still kissing me, and the wind licking at my skin, I closed my eyes and extended my arms. I felt the wind whirl around me, and I pretended that I had control of the wind and that I could fly. It had always been a dream of mine as a small child to have the ability to either fly or control the wind so that I could fly. I never understand my reasons for wanting such a power, just that it seemed like it would be an amazing power; it was a freeing power.

I lowered my arms and smiled. It was my most treasured fantasy to fly, but I understood that the closet I would get to actually flying would be into my mind or on paper. A little sad now, I kicked a pebble into the middle of the road. I wondered why I longed to get away from earth; it wasn’t like I was completely ostracized by my peers that I had no one here. In fact, I had so many reasons to stay, so why the need to leave this green planet? I always had this question when I thought about flying through the sky like an angel, but I never had an actual answer to it.

My thoughts and questions were forgotten when I saw Carson’s bus climbing up the small hill toward me. It was an old thing that was so weather worn that it looked more rust-orange than yellow. I was always curious as to how that old clunker was still running because I had a feeling that that bus had been around when my parents where in high school. The wheels screeched to a halting stop so loudly that I visibly winched as the sound grated against my ears. The doors opened, and I saw Carson’s cinnamon hair—so much like Dad’s—bounce up and down as he exited the bus, that beautiful, child-like smile on his dark skinned face. He may be lanky and thin now, but I gave him a few more years before I would have to seriously keep my eyes on him. I got the feeling he would be quite a heartbreaker.

“Hey, Carson,” I waved.

“Hey, Junior,” He returned my greeting with a huge smile on his face. I frowned at the use of the old family nickname. “Carson, I thought we talked about that nickname. Kevin isn’t around anymore, so there isn’t any need for it.”

“Oh, I forgot. Why don’t you want to be called Junior?” And there is was, that child curiosity that should have stopped when he hit kindergarten, but Carson was still forever asking why? I didn’t mind it, though; it showed he wanted to learn.

“It’s difficult to explain,” I began as I grabbed his tiny hand and began our walk home. “I just don’t care to be called junior. Mom took the time to pick a name for, went through so many books in search of a name for me that being called Junior upsets me.” I wasn’t lying to Carson, but I also wasn’t telling him the truth. But how are you supposed to explain to a second grader that not having a real name is similar to not having an identity?

“I see, that makes sense,” Carson nodded his head, though he really had no idea. Silence engulfed us, and it was then that I felt my skin prickle strangely. Confusion colored my thoughts as I cast a glance around Carson and me, seeing nothing but greens and browns. I couldn’t be sure, but it felt like eyes were burning into my flesh, and I knew from experience that it wasn’t too hard to hide from someone in the thick brush of trees. I had just chalked up the feelings to be my overactive imagination when I caught sight of Eli walking along the edge of the trees, going in the opposite direction of us and disappearing into those thick woods. He’d looked really upset in those brief moments I’d seen of him, and I wondered what had made him so upset?

Without thinking, my feet were moving in the direction I’d last seen Eli. I felt Carson stumble behind me as I had abruptly changed direction on him without warning. Stopping and glancing down at him I realized that, for a moment, I’d forgotten about Carson. My eyes returned to the patch of woods where I’d last saw Eli, and I couldn’t explain the sudden need to follow him, but it was there, and it burned like fire under my skin. Despite this fire burning me, I knew that I couldn’t—wouldn’t follow Eli. I didn’t even have an actual reason for wanting to follow him; just a feeling wasn’t good enough.

“Junior?” Carson’s voice pulled my eyes away from the patch of trees to his face. I smiled down at him, throwing my arm around his neck. The fire underneath my skin had cooled slightly, but I still felt like I was being devoured by heat. And, rumors or no rumors, it was Eli’s business as to why he would be stalking around with such an angry looking face, not mine.

“So, is school going okay?” I asked changing the subject, glad for the cold wind that was now blowing; it felt great against my feverous skin.

“I guess so, but I don’t think Tiffany Brian likes me much.” He answered reluctantly, looking down as his feet shuffled along.

“Who is Tiffany Brian, and why wouldn’t she like you?”

“Tiffany is the girl who sits next to me in class. It just seems like she hates me. She keeps pushing me in the dirt, or kicking my things away after she knocks them down.” He confessed, lowering his head in shame.

I started laughing, and Carson took it as I was laughing at him.

“It isn’t funny!” He whaled, glaring up at me and pulling away.

“No, I’m not laughing at you.” I smiled, tugging him back to my side. “I was just thinking that this is the time first time a girl has had a crush on you.”

“She what? No, she doesn’t! Girls aren’t supposed to be mean!”

“Well, sometimes we are. I don’t know why, but we are.” I said. This only angered him more, and he began a long list of why girls were mean. That list never once mentioning the possible fact that a girl could like you.

We were still arguing about this topic when we’d reached home.

“Carson,” I began, digging about for my keys to unlock the door and get us out the cold. “I’m telling you that when a girl is mean to a boy it means that she likes him. Being mean is just a cover up.”

“I don’t want a girl to like me; girls have cooties!” Carson exclaimed suddenly, almost as if he had just remembered a good reason why little girls weren’t allowed to like little boys. I couldn’t help but laugh at the abrupt comment; I was laughing so hard that I wasn’t able to dig my keys out of my coat pocket. Carson gave me a sour expression as I felt my face heat up from the laughter and my lungs protest against the excess laughing. But, again, I couldn’t seem to help myself.

When my chortling died down I fished my keys out and unlocked the door. Carson hurried past me either to get away from me and my craziness, or because he was really cold and just wanted warmth. Once inside the house, I warned Carson to be quiet when he walked down the hall because Dad was asleep. I made to head upstairs to my English assignment then remembered that I’d left my things scattered on the couch in the living room. Letting out a tired sigh, I went to the family room, gathered my things by throwing them haphazardly into my bag, and hopped up the stairs to my room.

My bag made a dull thunk as it connect with my unmade twin-sized bed. Back when I was younger I use to relish in the fact that my room was larger than my Kevin’s, but now it just seemed too big. I stood in the center of the room and looked over all the changes that had taken place over the seven years of living here. I’d traded in my most of my Disney shows and movie posters for what I deemed more serious TV series such as House, CSI, Numbers, Eleventh Hour, and Bones; my walls now a deep green instead of the pastel pink my mother had decided I was going to have when I was younger. I still had the glow-in-the-dark stickers plastered to my ceiling that I remembered fighting with Kevin over, and then begging Dad to stick them to my ceiling because Mom wouldn’t allow me to do it myself.

The entire wall adjacent to my door was covered by the handmade bookcases Kevin, Dad and I slaved over one day during an intense summer. A small smile broke through, and I felt the pangs of Kevin’s absence in my heart at the memory of laughing, teasing, and shouting in heated anger at each other only to share ice cold lemonades when it was all finished. Berating myself for acting so selfishly about Kevin, I turn away from the bookcase. My eyes land on my desk, a hand-me-down from my father. The wood was slightly worn from the daily use, the knobs to the two lowest drawers on the left were missing, and more often than not my ink and papers seemed to disappear in the top drawer on the right of it. But it was still as beautiful to me as a Vincent Van Gogh’s works were to an artist.

Running my fingers over the soft wood of my desk, I walked over to the small vanity that Mom gave me when I entered high school. The mirror held the pictures of my freshmen, sophomore and junior years at high school with my friends, and a few pictures of our younger selves sprinkled about; I then turned my eyes on myself. I had always found myself plain, not beautiful but decent. I preferred it that way. It was just sometimes, in rare moments of insecurity, I found myself wishing that someone could find me beautiful. I would stare in this mirror, picking out all my flaws until I was so upset with myself that I would stalk out my room, fuming in silence. Mom would usually hand me Zack—my youngest and cutest brother of one year—who could cheer up anyone in a dangerously angry mood.

My eyes flicked over to a picture of Trey and me; I was seated in his lap with his arms circled around me. Even in the picture I couldn’t see any real flames of love from the boy as he looked at me. Reaching up, I plucked the picture free and just stared at it as if searching for something I knew I couldn’t find before putting it back and returning to my desk to do my English homework.

∞

I sat at the dinner table with my head resting in my hand, my legs crossed under the table and fiddling with my food. Focus wasn’t coming easy to me that night as I had so many things racing through my busy mind. I thought about what Mel said to me, and Eli’s cold calculating grey eyes, as well as the possibly that everything she told me was just a rumor; I thought about Kevin so far away in California, and wondering if he even missed us at all; I thought the picture of me and Trey from when we’d dated two years ago, and how that wasn’t even a real relationship; I thought about the colleges I’d applied to a month ago, and how I had yet to receive a letter of rejection or acceptation (the time to send in applications closed at the end of this month, but I was still anxious); I thought of how tired Dad looked, and how he had yet to tell us if he’d seen Kevin while there.

My thoughts had me so enraptured that Dad had to call my name five times to get my attention, and it was only because Carson kicked me under the table that I was finally pulled back to the outside world.

“Wh-what?” I stuttered as I leaned down to rub the spot where I’d been kicked.

“I asked you how school was going.” Dad repeated, and added with a stern look, “Have you been staying up late again, Junior?”

I fixed Dad with a playful-not-so-playful glare and answered, “No, I haven’t. I’ve been going to bed at a reasonable time. And school is going well for me, thanks for asking.”

“That’s good, been keeping those grades up, right?”

“No, Dad, I’m endangering my chances of being accepted into a college.” I rolled my eyes.

“Hey, it’s my job as your father to bother you about these things. Kevin had been such a handful during his senior year.”

“Yeah, with girls, Dad.” I said drily, “Not with his studies—even Kevin can’t be that stupid.”

“One can only wonder, one can only wonder, Junior.” Dad feigning seriousness until a broad grin broke out on his round face.

“Speaking of Kevin,” Mom began, casting me an apologetic smile when she saw I turned to her thinking it was me she was speaking to. “How is our boy doing? He has been in college for a month now, right?”

Dad nodded, swallowing his bite and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yes, He complained about the classes a little, but when hasn’t that boy complained? I swear the only reason he graduated high school was because of Junior…” Dad continued with his story of how Kevin was working hard, though, at both school and his job—something I found amazing considering the horrible economy— and how Dad thought that there was this pretty redhead that he seemed smitten with. Placing my head in my palm again, I pushed the casserole around on my plate, becoming consumed by my endless thoughts again.

My mind sped off on tangents, never seeming to find a home in one subject as time flew past me and my family. It was only until I found myself alone at the dinner table had I realized so much time passed already; pushing myself away from the table, I went over to the sink. I saw that not many dishes were there, and it made me a bit sad as I had grown fond of doing them over the years. I remembered a time when I abhorred standing there for ten to thirty minutes—given the amount in the sink. It had grossed me out to touch the food that others put in their mouths, to smell the already decaying food. It was during a particular stressful project that I’d decided to take a break by doing the dishes when I discovered the soothing effect it seemed to have on me.

Tonight, doing the dishes dulled the racetrack in my head, slowing the thoughts with the gentle lull of running water, soft clinks of glass, and the every so often swish of the soap bubbles. My placid melody was over too quickly, though, and I mentally cursed whatever deity for not giving me more dishes.

Resting my arms on the sink, I stared out the window to the darkening sky. Talking so much about California and Kevin reminded me that I was going to be leaving soon, too. I’d sent off applications off to colleges all over the country, as well as to some local ones, so now all that was left to was wait. Fear flared in my chest, like it normally did when I pictured myself in college, but it was dulled by exhaustion and because its novelty had worn off by now. This fear was similar to the lighting of a gas lamp; you can light it only so many times before it died completely.

“Kevin!” Mom’s voice rang through the house, breaking my thoughts as I turned slightly and listened. “Bath time!”

“All right,” I called back, reaching for a towel to dry my hands in spite of them having air dried already, “I’m coming!”

Zack’s giggles could be heard as I made my way up the stairs and to bathroom. I turned on the water, holding my fingers underneath the faucet until it turned warm enough for Zack’s skin, and watched it fill up. I looked around the bathroom; Mom had taken paint to the walls last year when she declared that she could no longer handle the “baby puke green crap on the walls.” Instead the walls were covered in wallpaper that reminded me of old paints with grapes as the centerpiece. Though, I had to agree with my mother on this one; the wallpaper was severally better than the ugly green that had dominated the house before we’d moved in.

It only took a moment for Zack’s naked form to come running from his room down the hall to the bathroom. I quickly grabbed him because he wasn’t bigger enough to get in on his own—despite his belief that he was.

“Whee!” I squealed as I lifted him up by his arms and lowered Zack into the warm water. I heard more than saw Mom take her seat on the toilet as she observed the two of us: me pouring baby shampoo on his brown curls to him rubbing the shampoo in. Silence passed between us, and it was when I reached for the bedtime soap did I notice Mom staring at me.
My eyebrow rose, and I was quick to ask, “What?”

“Oh, nothing really,” Mom sighed, smiling at me. “Just surprised how quickly my baby has grown up.”

I mistook her talking about Zack as he was normally the topic of our conversations. “I agree, he should just stay this little forever.”

“Not him, sweetheart. I’m talking about you; you’re turning eighteen this month, and you’ll be leaving for college in a few months.” I could hear Mom’s voice catch as she mentioned college. “I don’t want you to go, Kevin.”

“I know Mom, that’s why I plan to go to the community college—like Trey.” I said, hoping to sooth her somehow. I didn’t want to leave either, I was no where near ready to face the world on my own yet. There was too much tying me to home, and I wasn’t ready to give that up yet.

Silence engulfed us again, and I was suddenly floored by the fact that in two weeks I would be turning eighteen. How had my birthday snuck up on me so quickly? How could I have forgotten about it?

∞

It was nighttime now, and everyone from my one-year-old brother to my thirty-seven-year-old father were asleep in our house. I expected that since it was nearly one in the morning. I had been awake for an hour or so, knowing I wasn’t going back to sleep yet. This happened only during this time really, when my birthday was so close. It was something I had been doing since I realized Alan wasn’t my only father. I sat at my window seat with my legs pulled closely and my cheek resting comfortably there, gazing up at the moon in its fourth quarter, a sliver the only part that could really be seen at the moment.

Standing up silently, and moving to the hallway without making a single squeak out my wooden floors, I proceeded to the attic. I knew every creaking board in the house from years of doing things I really oughtn’t have done with Kevin. We’d only been caught once last year, and that had been by my half-asleep father who was muttering to us to be quiet or else we’d wait up our mother. Dad’s interruption had done little to deter Kevin from going to the school for his senior prank. I still didn’t understand why I’d been the one to come with him as I was just a lowly junior—I’d of course ended up playing guard while the seniors forked the lawns, and wrote “class of 2009” on every window. I actually thought it was a horrible prank, but who was I to judge? I doubted we could come up with something any better.

When I reached the end of the dark, eerily quite hall, I opened the door that lead to our attic that was more than often confused as either a bathroom or one of siblings’ rooms by visitors. I silently cursed as the old door let out a low whine of protest, and I strained an ear to see if anyone had been wakened by the sound. Thankfully the house was still silent, and hurried up the stairs, leaving the door open.

I clicked the light on, flinching away as my eyes adjusted to the now dimly lit room. When my vision returned, I looked at all the boxes surrounding me. It had been a year since I came up here, but nothing had changed at all. There were boxes labeled “Christmas” and “Halloween” in the right corner where Mom had left them, and in the left corner was Mom’s wish chest—something I was allowed to look in—next to the boxes of Zack’s old clothes that my mother planned on saving for one of us kids’ babies.

I sneezed quietly as I moved among the dusty boxes; it was just so musty up here. I was only interested in one box right now. I gingerly reach down into the box I wanted, pulling out an old photo album. There were seventeen years of my birthday in this album. Seventeen birthdays of my crassly believing he’ll come, that my own father—the one who helped create me—would come to his daughter’s party. To wish her a happy birthday, and tell her that he loved her with all his heart. I just hated thinking that my birth Dad had left because of me. Mom had always said that he wasn’t a happy man, and that he did love me. I just wanted to know if I really was the reason he left, and that he really did love me. That I wasn’t some mistake.

Flipping through the old book, I saw that for the first seven years of my life it was just Mom and me in the picture. Even in the pictures I could see the exhaustion in her face, and I remembered that before Mom had met Dad, she’d been working three jobs so that I could have all the things I needed whether it be my wants or my actually needs. I turned the pages again, and this time it wasn’t just me and tired-looking Mom, but Kevin and Dad grinning broadly at the camera. I was glad my bratty-ness hadn’t scared Alan away when we’d first met.

I remembered Mom having come by Grandma’s house early to pick me up. I was actually a bit nervous because it had been Grandma who’d called me, and I thought that maybe she’d discovered the uprooted flowers I’d accidentally picked while playing outside earlier, but my plan was to blame it on her dogs—or my imaginary friend, Jasmine. Whichever one got me out of trouble.

“Yes, Grandma?” I timidly questioned the old woman who was standing next to a man I had yet to notice. I didn’t give Grandma any time to answer me when I saw who else was standing in her small kitchen with her.

“Mommy!” I shrieked as I threw myself at her leg. I then proceed into telling her all about my day only to be cut off.

“Kevin, sweetheart, before you jump into that, Mommy wants you to meet someone.” Mom told me with a small smile. I nodded, unsure of what else to say; she never interrupted me when I was telling her about my day. I didn’t like it.

“Hello, Kevin. My name is Alan.” A giant, dark-skinned man introduced himself. I hid behind my mother’s leg because I thought he was going to eat me like in the story I’d read that day in class, Jack and the Beanstalk.

“Kevin, it’s okay.” She said, trying to pull me away from behind her. I refused to move; turning back to the giant she said, “I’m sorry; she is so shy. I just thought it might be different with you…I guess not.”

Alan the Giant laughed, it was a loud, booming laugh that reminded me of thunder, “Don’t worry about it, Sara. She is only a little girl; my son wasn’t that open with you either.
Speaking of which, do you want me to bring him in to meet little Kevin here?”

“Hey, I’m not little! I’m going to eight in two months!” I said fiercely—well, as fiercely as a seven-year-old can. I felt Mom giving my shoulder a firm squeeze; it was her way of warning me to knock it off, though the giant didn’t seem to mind my outburst much. In fact he just laughed at me which made me self-conscious again.

“Well, I’m sorry about that Ms. Big Girl.” Then he walked outside. Mom turned to Grandma and they talked about how nice Alan the Giant was. I, on the hand, was still slightly nervous around him because of his towering height (at the age of seven, who isn’t a towering height, though?), but it was his loud laughter that I found comfort in.

A few minutes later, Alan the Giant came back in with a little boy who I guessed to be about my age. I wondered if this boy would be mean to me too, like the ones at school who wouldn’t come near me because I had cooties, or would pull on my hair during Arts and Crafts. Alan the Giant’s son seemed like a kind enough looking boy. He looked so much like Alan the Giant except with brown hair and hazel eyes that were alit with something that erupted butterflies in my stomach. It was that same mischievous glint the school boys would get when they were about to do something naughty.

I really, really, really hoped he was nothing like them.

Alan the Giant’s son grinned at me, and I shuffled my feet a little embarrassed by both the fact that everyone was looking at the two of us, and because I didn’t know what to say to Alan the Giant’s son that wouldn’t make him be mean to me like all the other little boys.

“Hi,” the little boy said to me.

With bravery I hadn’t known I possessed, I answered with a little wave, “Hello.”

“My name is Kevin; my Dad says I have to be nice to you because he like your Mom.” The boy—Kevin told me, throwing his father a cheeky grin. Turning back to me, he inquired, “What’s your name?”

I wasn’t listening to Kevin anymore, and tears were stinging my eyes as I looked up at my mother with a look of absolute hurt.

“Kevin, baby,” Mom questioned, kneeling down to my level as she saw the look on my face and the tears in my eyes. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying, honey?”

“I didn’t do it!” Kevin said quickly, almost guilty despite the face that he really didn’t do anything to me.

My vision swam as I looked at the four of them, feeling as if I were a stranger. I couldn’t find the words to express the hurt and confusion I was feeling. My mind couldn’t understand what it was that I’d done so wrong that my mother would want to replace me with another child—no less a boy! Wordlessly, I turned from Mom, pushing Kevin roughly out of my way as I ran down the hall into the room that was mine at Grandma’s house, slamming and locking the door behind me. Throwing myself on the bed, I cried until I couldn’t anymore and hiccups consumed my small body. I refused to open the door when Mom, Alan the Giant, Grandma, and Kevin all pleaded with me to, each of them either begging me, offering me something, or threatening me if I did or didn’t. I didn’t come out until Grandma called my cousin to come by and pick the lock, and even then I wouldn’t talk to anyone.

It was later that night, when we’d returned to our apartment, Mom came into my room as I played with my Barbies. She beckoned me to the bed, where she pulled my body close to her—so close that I could feel the steady beat of her heart on my back and the warmth of her skin. Resting her chin atop my head, Mom explained that no one was replacing me, that nothing in the entire world could force her to every replace me.

“Sweetie, I don’t want to replace you,” She told me softly, “I just want you to have a daddy and hopefully a big brother. Or a little one.” She chortled, ruffling my hair a little. “What I’m saying, is that Alan is someone really special, and I think if you gave him—him and Kevin a chance you might understand what I mean. Will you do that for me, dumpling?”

I didn’t understand much of what my mother spoke of that night, I felt that I was enough of a family for her, but I did understand that Alan the Giant made her happy. And I wanted my mother to be happy, so for her I gave Alan the Giant a chance. I was so glad now that I’d listened to my mother, and let Alan the Giant and Kevin both into our home and our hearts because they filled the holes in our lives—holes that I hadn’t known even existed. I couldn’t ever thank them enough; it was only because Alan ran into my Mom at a bookstore that I had the most wonderful thing in my life: my family.

Closing the album, I ran my finger down its spine and over the cover, smiling. I told myself that I didn’t need the man who had abandoned Mom and me; I only needed Mom, Dad, Kevin, Carson and Zack.

I left the attic, shutting the door quicker this time to avoid the long squeak and hurried back to my room. I didn’t immediately go to bed, but opted to sit by the window instead with Maximum Ride: an Angel Experiment. I read until the words swam in front of my face, hoping I was too tired to dream.

Casting a final look at the thin sliver of the moon, I had the feeling that this year something was going to happen. Something big, something magical and something very different.