My first story
Heat Stroke
Lauren's heart stopped. Chills rushed though her spine and made her shiver violently, but it had nothing to do with the weather. She tried to scream, but her voice didn't come. Her throat was too dry and she couldn't wet it enough. She couldn't remember why she was trying anyway; there weren't any neighbors closer than a mile and a half.
When she got back to the drop off, she jumped of the swing and slowly walked down to where the boy lay. She called "Hello, are you alright? Um hello"?
There was no reply. She was about two feet away from him when she realized that he was unconscious. He had to be, he didn't reply either because she scared him or because he didn't hear her. He didn't move a muscle, which made her think he wasn't conscious. Carefully she lifted him up and walked up the hill-side. Lauren had to stop nearly four times. Even though he only weighed about ninety pounds, the boy was tall, and his arms and legs were lying about at odd angles and were hard to carry. At the top of the hill, Lauren struggled with him all the way to the cabin.
Gently she set him on the couch and examined him, trying to figure out why he'd been unconscious. There was one thing that struck her about the boy. He was wearing winter clothes. No, not even winter clothes. He looked like he was ready to face temperatures past the negative teens. He was wearing a thick fur coat; on top of what she could tell was a jerkin. As she looked at him, she remembered the two piles of fur she had seen beside him and thought "Boots, of course!” His pants were brandishing the look of a mountain man's creation. No wonder he passed out; heat stroke.
Lauren couldn't remember what her mother had done when a girl from town had fainted, except that she had splashed water on her face and waited for her to come to. Wait, her mother had moved the girl out of the sun. But why? Probably to keep her from getting warmer and to keep death away; yes that was why she'd been moved. "To keep him alive, that's what I must do." She thought to herself out loud. She had already moved him out of the sun, but what about the winter clothes? Lauren took off the coat and left on his jerkin.
She went into her father’s room and opened his closet. No clothes. She went to her room and tried to find the pants and shirt she had been mending before he left. They were still there, but the holes were not yet fixed. After returning to the boy, she decided to leave on the pants; there was nothing else for him to wear until she finished to torn clothes. Her clothes were all dresses, well, except for the one change of clothes her mother made for her incase her father made her go to school and she wasn’t accepted as a girl and had to pretend to be a boy; her father's clothes were with him, wherever he was.
She took her freezing hands and placed them on his head instead of getting water from the stream. When his head began to get cold, she took his hands in hers and repeated the process.
Getting up, she went into the kitchen. She got a special flower head from the cupboard and tried to make the healing tea her mother made when her father had the fever. Unfortunately though, she put it in with the wrong ingredients. It was typical of her to mix the inexact things; she so easily mixed up different flowers. The two compounds repelled and "Bang!" Lauren screamed, surprised.
The boy stirred and began to talk, "Whatsgoin' on?"
Lauren ran over to him and said "I'm so sorry! I'm not good at cooking and I accidentally blew a flower head up. I was making you some healing tea. Are you okay? I found you by the stream; I think you passed out from heat stroke…" Her voice faded off as she looked at him and lost her train of thought.
The boy sat up with his eyes wide. "Really? You actually blew up a flower head? I never could do it…hm. I couldn't ever, even in..." His voice trailed off quietly, as if he just remembered he wasn't suppose to say something he was about to say.
"Yeah, wait, what?" She asked, confused.
"Nothing, just forget it; it must be the heat." He tried to unsuccessfully cover his mistake. Fortunately for him, Lauren dropped the subject and let it go. She would remember though and figure it out later.
"My name is Lauren, Lauren Creech." She said politely, holding out her hand.
"I'm Jack." He replied, not bothering to tell his last name or where he was from. He shook her hand all the same, but Lauren had a feeling he didn't want to give out too much information about himself for some reason.
For a moment they looked at each other. Jack was rather handsome; his dark brown hair was in disarray, but still was a fitting color for him. His blue eyes shimmered as he looked at his rescuer and she couldn't help but feel awkward under his scrutiny. His skin was a pale white color, as if he didn't get out into the sun much. Lauren become conscious that she was staring and quickly looked away; she did not want to be rude to him.
He noticed her green eyes examining him and looked into her kind face. She had a few freckles and her hair was a color that no one back home's was. He liked it, not one girl had appealed to him at his home like she did. His mother was always saying before that he needed to find someone and wasn’t viewed as regular for that very reason. She also looked as if she was outside everyday from her freckles, but didn't have a tan-like color of skin like he'd expected. Instead, her skin was pallid, which was surprising to him. Her face, her hair, even her eyes seemed familiar, but not her exactly. It seemed there had been one person like her. But he couldn’t remember who…
As she looked away and began to stand up, probably to return to making tea, he realized he too had been staring.
"So, where did you… Why were you…? What happened?" Lauren asked him, but struggled with the right way to ask the question.
"I was being chased and passed out from heat stroke." He replied quickly and tried to think of a way to distract her from asking all the questions that would give him away. He found only one way. "But what about you, where is your mother and your father?"
"My mother is…gone. My father is…well, I don't know where he is. He went to go hunt with my Uncle Travis, but that was nine days ago. He wrote once, but didn't say where he was except that he'd be home in two or three weeks." By the time she finished the few sentences, her voice had dropped to merely a whisper. She didn't want anyone to know her father had deserted her or that her mother had gone. Anyone would consider her an outcast and send her to an orphanage.
"What? Your father left you motherless and he didn't tell you where he is? What if something bad had happened to you?" He could barely keep the concern out of his voice and hoped she hadn't heard it. What had happened to her just seemed so terrible and cruel, he wondered why she didn't go into town for help or go to another relative's house until her father came back. Maybe she didn't have any relatives, or maybe there wasn't a town, or maybe her father wouldn't come back.
"I I, I don't know why he didn't tell me where he is, and I don't know if he will be back at all. I don't think anything bad will happen; I've got Poppy. She's my only family left. It's not his fault my mother left either!" Lauren had heard the concern in Jack's words and wondered why anyone would care at all. She hadn't ever known anyone like him, except her mother. No one in town could have been related to him, so she had no idea where he had come from. He was an outsider too.
Up till now, he never noticed the dog that was waiting faithfully beside her and watching him with care. She seemed to be guarding Lauren and ready to fight if he tried to hurt her. "Her only family is her dog. It must be hard, having no one waiting for you or worrying about you like most children's parents would." He thought to himself. He saw why both the dog and the girl stuck close together; they'd already lost half, or more, of their family.
"How old are you?" She asked curiously.
"This is the end of my thirteenth year, and my birthday is on June 11th, what about you?" He too wanted to know more about her; she was more different than she knew, and more than he wanted to tell her.
"I am thirteen, my birthday is in," she paused to count "fifteen days. The twentieth of June."
Jack tried to get up, but with no success. "Just wait until I finish the tea, then you can get up. You'll need something to help you recover from the heat stroke." Lauren turned, halfway to the kitchen, and ordered him.
She went to the kitchen and stood in front of the boiling water for a moment, then as if deciding upon something, took the pot and dumped it out the window. Lauren took it back to the stream and refilled it, determined to make the tea correctly this time.
When she got back to the drop off, she jumped of the swing and slowly walked down to where the boy lay. She called "Hello, are you alright? Um hello"?
There was no reply. She was about two feet away from him when she realized that he was unconscious. He had to be, he didn't reply either because she scared him or because he didn't hear her. He didn't move a muscle, which made her think he wasn't conscious. Carefully she lifted him up and walked up the hill-side. Lauren had to stop nearly four times. Even though he only weighed about ninety pounds, the boy was tall, and his arms and legs were lying about at odd angles and were hard to carry. At the top of the hill, Lauren struggled with him all the way to the cabin.
Gently she set him on the couch and examined him, trying to figure out why he'd been unconscious. There was one thing that struck her about the boy. He was wearing winter clothes. No, not even winter clothes. He looked like he was ready to face temperatures past the negative teens. He was wearing a thick fur coat; on top of what she could tell was a jerkin. As she looked at him, she remembered the two piles of fur she had seen beside him and thought "Boots, of course!” His pants were brandishing the look of a mountain man's creation. No wonder he passed out; heat stroke.
Lauren couldn't remember what her mother had done when a girl from town had fainted, except that she had splashed water on her face and waited for her to come to. Wait, her mother had moved the girl out of the sun. But why? Probably to keep her from getting warmer and to keep death away; yes that was why she'd been moved. "To keep him alive, that's what I must do." She thought to herself out loud. She had already moved him out of the sun, but what about the winter clothes? Lauren took off the coat and left on his jerkin.
She went into her father’s room and opened his closet. No clothes. She went to her room and tried to find the pants and shirt she had been mending before he left. They were still there, but the holes were not yet fixed. After returning to the boy, she decided to leave on the pants; there was nothing else for him to wear until she finished to torn clothes. Her clothes were all dresses, well, except for the one change of clothes her mother made for her incase her father made her go to school and she wasn’t accepted as a girl and had to pretend to be a boy; her father's clothes were with him, wherever he was.
She took her freezing hands and placed them on his head instead of getting water from the stream. When his head began to get cold, she took his hands in hers and repeated the process.
Getting up, she went into the kitchen. She got a special flower head from the cupboard and tried to make the healing tea her mother made when her father had the fever. Unfortunately though, she put it in with the wrong ingredients. It was typical of her to mix the inexact things; she so easily mixed up different flowers. The two compounds repelled and "Bang!" Lauren screamed, surprised.
The boy stirred and began to talk, "Whatsgoin' on?"
Lauren ran over to him and said "I'm so sorry! I'm not good at cooking and I accidentally blew a flower head up. I was making you some healing tea. Are you okay? I found you by the stream; I think you passed out from heat stroke…" Her voice faded off as she looked at him and lost her train of thought.
The boy sat up with his eyes wide. "Really? You actually blew up a flower head? I never could do it…hm. I couldn't ever, even in..." His voice trailed off quietly, as if he just remembered he wasn't suppose to say something he was about to say.
"Yeah, wait, what?" She asked, confused.
"Nothing, just forget it; it must be the heat." He tried to unsuccessfully cover his mistake. Fortunately for him, Lauren dropped the subject and let it go. She would remember though and figure it out later.
"My name is Lauren, Lauren Creech." She said politely, holding out her hand.
"I'm Jack." He replied, not bothering to tell his last name or where he was from. He shook her hand all the same, but Lauren had a feeling he didn't want to give out too much information about himself for some reason.
For a moment they looked at each other. Jack was rather handsome; his dark brown hair was in disarray, but still was a fitting color for him. His blue eyes shimmered as he looked at his rescuer and she couldn't help but feel awkward under his scrutiny. His skin was a pale white color, as if he didn't get out into the sun much. Lauren become conscious that she was staring and quickly looked away; she did not want to be rude to him.
He noticed her green eyes examining him and looked into her kind face. She had a few freckles and her hair was a color that no one back home's was. He liked it, not one girl had appealed to him at his home like she did. His mother was always saying before that he needed to find someone and wasn’t viewed as regular for that very reason. She also looked as if she was outside everyday from her freckles, but didn't have a tan-like color of skin like he'd expected. Instead, her skin was pallid, which was surprising to him. Her face, her hair, even her eyes seemed familiar, but not her exactly. It seemed there had been one person like her. But he couldn’t remember who…
As she looked away and began to stand up, probably to return to making tea, he realized he too had been staring.
"So, where did you… Why were you…? What happened?" Lauren asked him, but struggled with the right way to ask the question.
"I was being chased and passed out from heat stroke." He replied quickly and tried to think of a way to distract her from asking all the questions that would give him away. He found only one way. "But what about you, where is your mother and your father?"
"My mother is…gone. My father is…well, I don't know where he is. He went to go hunt with my Uncle Travis, but that was nine days ago. He wrote once, but didn't say where he was except that he'd be home in two or three weeks." By the time she finished the few sentences, her voice had dropped to merely a whisper. She didn't want anyone to know her father had deserted her or that her mother had gone. Anyone would consider her an outcast and send her to an orphanage.
"What? Your father left you motherless and he didn't tell you where he is? What if something bad had happened to you?" He could barely keep the concern out of his voice and hoped she hadn't heard it. What had happened to her just seemed so terrible and cruel, he wondered why she didn't go into town for help or go to another relative's house until her father came back. Maybe she didn't have any relatives, or maybe there wasn't a town, or maybe her father wouldn't come back.
"I I, I don't know why he didn't tell me where he is, and I don't know if he will be back at all. I don't think anything bad will happen; I've got Poppy. She's my only family left. It's not his fault my mother left either!" Lauren had heard the concern in Jack's words and wondered why anyone would care at all. She hadn't ever known anyone like him, except her mother. No one in town could have been related to him, so she had no idea where he had come from. He was an outsider too.
Up till now, he never noticed the dog that was waiting faithfully beside her and watching him with care. She seemed to be guarding Lauren and ready to fight if he tried to hurt her. "Her only family is her dog. It must be hard, having no one waiting for you or worrying about you like most children's parents would." He thought to himself. He saw why both the dog and the girl stuck close together; they'd already lost half, or more, of their family.
"How old are you?" She asked curiously.
"This is the end of my thirteenth year, and my birthday is on June 11th, what about you?" He too wanted to know more about her; she was more different than she knew, and more than he wanted to tell her.
"I am thirteen, my birthday is in," she paused to count "fifteen days. The twentieth of June."
Jack tried to get up, but with no success. "Just wait until I finish the tea, then you can get up. You'll need something to help you recover from the heat stroke." Lauren turned, halfway to the kitchen, and ordered him.
She went to the kitchen and stood in front of the boiling water for a moment, then as if deciding upon something, took the pot and dumped it out the window. Lauren took it back to the stream and refilled it, determined to make the tea correctly this time.