Outside the time, p.6
Outside the time, page 6
"How many places have you lived in? And why do you move so much? Should I prepare myself for my only friend to leave me? Why don't you ever invite me over to your place? Are you ashamed to be my friend and don't want me to meet your family? How come…"
"Wow, easy there, tiger. Take a breath and let me answer some first," He tried to laugh, but I could tell he was really uncomfortable. He stayed quiet for awhile trying to formulate his answers. "I've lived in thirty-two different countries, I gave up keeping track of the cities a long time ago. I was conceived somewhere in Italy. My parents settled in London for about five years when I was born, then we spent a couple of months in Ireland and Spain before hitting up France for about a year. And no, I can't speak French. I tried but I had a hard enough time learning English. After France we spent about a year down under in Australia. A year and a half was in New Zealand. Um…."
He swished his mouth back and forth trying to remember everywhere he had lived.
"Oh, there were those couple months in Germany and Finland. That was interesting since nobody in my family speaks those languages. We came to North America when I was about ten, no eleven I think, when we stopped off up in Canada before settling here when I was thirteen. I don't think you have to worry about me leaving, but I really couldn't say for sure. As for why we've moved so much, I really can't talk about it and I hope you can understand that."
So it was a witness protection thing… Okay, okay his not being able to talk about it didn't automatically mean that, but it was the first thought to jump into my head. I pictured his family being hunted by some Italian mob man who tracked them to England, and they've been on the run ever since.
"And my other questions?" I reminded him.
"No, I'm not ashamed of having you as my friend. I don't know why I haven't invited you over. I guess I'm just not used to staying in a place long enough for it to have mattered." He shrugged and leaned back to rest on his hands. "If it's that big of a deal to you then I'll check with my parents and see if it's okay."
"How did you get that scar on your arm?"
"Got bit by a dog when I was a kid." He quickly covered the scar on his upper arm with his hand.
"Odd shape for a dog bite." I remarked. The scar almost looked like a star.
"Yeah, well, it was an odd dog."
"Why the bracelets?" It was a stupid question to ask but one I felt needed asking. He shrugged again.
"I don't know really. A reminder of the places I lived, I guess. My dad started doing it when I was a baby and I just kind of kept with it. He never really explained why he started. But I kept it going to keep track of how many places I've lived. It got confusing, which is why I simply list countries instead of trying to remember ever damn city I've been to."
"Have you ever had a dream so real, so unexpectedly real, that it…" I stopped. I really didn't know why I started asking him about that damn dream. But I sure as hell didn't want to admit that it was one of those dreams.
"It scared you?" he asked.
I shook my head. The dream didn't scare me, excited me- pleasured me, confused me, disturbed me, but most certainly did not scare me. The dog had done most of the scaring.
"Well, without knowing the details I would say yes, I probably have."
I stayed quiet for awhile as I ran through a list of things I wanted to know about Mike trying to come up with juicy ones that I knew he'd avoid if I didn't get him right then in that brief Moment of truth.
"Any more questions you think I've been avoiding?" he asked as if he read my mind.
"I'm thinking. Give me a Moment." I knew there was something, but for some reason my mind was at a blank. "What do your parents do?"
Really, Paula? That's the best you can come up with? Come on girl. He is at your mercy. Get with the juicy!
"Dad is a car mechanic and Mom works in pottery."
Neither career sounded like anything that would require them to move so frequently. My witness protection idea was becoming a bit more likely.
"What are their names? Were they born in Italy and that's why you lived there when you were conceived?"
He laughed. "Henry and Molly. No they're not Italian. They moved a lot before I was born, too." His jaw flinched when he finished answering. I knew he really didn't want to talk about the moving any longer, but he would if I had continued to force the issue. I decided to stay away from that topic. If fate wanted me to know about that, then fate would provide. There were so many other things I could ask about anyway.
"Do you and Sam get along?"
"As well as any pair of brothers can, I suppose." He shrugged. "I don't see him much now that he's down in L.A. for school. He comes up for weekends from time to time, but he has his own life now. Steady girlfriend, works as an intern in some fancy smancy studio office- he doesn't have time for us anymore."
"Are you really not into Jez at all? Not even a little bit?" I cringed when the question was finished.
I had finally asked it, even when I really, really, didn't want to know the answer. But there it was, out in the open, hanging in the air, waiting for the answer. Depending on which answer he gave, it would either crush me into oblivion or cause an internal parade joy to march through my soul. With a laugh he ran his hand through his hair- he hadn't put any gel in it so it flopped loosely in his face- and leaned forward, hugging his knees to his chest as he looked at me.
"I really was wondering how long it would take you to finally ask that." He grinned. Guess I was that predictable. "And the answer is no. I don't like her, not even a little. I'll humor her because she's your sister, but if she were a stranger in school I would have told her off by now. I don't like superficial types who know they're hot and use that to wrap guys around their little fingers. And before you ask, I'm not gay, either. I've never had a girlfriend before but I've gone on a couple dates and I've made out with a couple girls, though they were both one of those spin-the-bottle, seven-minutes-in-heaven, deals, so its not like it meant anything. Again, when you move around as much as I have, you just don't get that kind of attachment to anyone really."
I had to force back a smile as the trumpets began blaring in my head. It relieved me greatly to hear he had no interest in Jez, though I wasn't completely sure why it made me so happy.
"Yeah, well, I lived in St. Paul my whole life and still didn't get that kind of attachment," I grumbled. "Even seven minutes in heaven is more then I've had."
"Meh, you really aren't missing much." He elbowed my arm, nudging me to one side.
"Look what I caught!" Junie shouted as she ran up holding a frog in her hands. As girly as she was, she had no problem getting dirty and touching the slimy things. A gag reflex crept up into my throat. I could handle many things, but a frog wasn't on that list.
"Ew," I muttered and tried to scoot away from it. Mike leaned in closer and rubbed one index finger against the frogs head. Mucus oozed off with the stroke.
"That's awesome! Little guy must have been lost in the storm," he said.
"I think I'm gonna be sick!" I groaned.
"For such a tomboy, you really are a girl sometimes." Mike laughed. He stood up and wiped off the back of his pants carefully. I could see they were still wet from when we were sitting on the blanket. "Let's see if we can find it a nice place to keep it until we can free it somewhere."
"Just make sure you wipe your feet! Mom will kill me if you track mud all over the house." It was bad enough I was letting Junie play in the mud, but at least I could quickly wash her off in the shower and Mom would never know. Junie wouldn't tell. She enjoyed getting dirty, something Mom refused to let her do, so she took every opportunity she could. The best of both worlds, she called it.
With Mom she was the quintessential girlie girl. She wore flowery print dresses, had her nails done from time to time, let Mom play with her hair. But since I had started babysitting her alone from time to time, she also started to be more like me. My hope was to keep her from turning into another Jez where beauty was everything.
I had no problem with girlie girls, really I didn't. The problem I had was with those who used their femininity to their advantage and couldn't take out the trash or wash a dish without first having to get dressed up in a hazmat suit. Junie was young, impressionable, and already showing signs of becoming that girl. I decided after the move I wouldn't allow it. I would give her as much of my influence as possible. There were times when it felt like it was my duty as her big sister.
In the kitchen they found a big bowl and filled it with a little bit of water. Junie ran back outside and grabbed a rock to place in the bowl. She said it was for Kermit to sit on. Yes, she had already named the frog. We always wanted to have a pet but Mom was allergic to dogs and Dad couldn't stand cats. Birds were too noisy, rabbits made too much of a mess, so forth and so on.
Needless to say, they always found a way to get rid of any stray or wounded animal we brought home. Eventually, we all gave up. I knew this frog would end up being shown the door like all the others before it.
"You know Mom and Dad won't let you keep it right?" I tried to prepare her for the inevitable.
She was sitting on her knees on one of the stools we had by the center island in the kitchen. She watched the frog intently as it sat in the bowl with its chest heaving in and out. Frankly, I was amazed it stayed in the bowl. Its eyes stayed focused on me. Junie puffed some air at the curls that hung in her face.
"I know." She sighed. "But you and Mikeie can take it somewhere to set it free when they get home. I'll just have a couple of hours pretending its mine."
Thankfully, we knew exactly what time Mom and Dad planned to be home. That gave us enough time to clean up Junie, wash the bowl (so Mom would never know a frog had been in it) and get the frog into a shoe box to hide outside. Only the three of us would ever know it had set one of its froggie legs in our house. It was better that way.
On cue, my parents returned home with a new car in their possession. A small, practical sedan that would primarily be Dad's, while the station wagon would continue to serve as my training vehicle. As soon as they got home Mike and I excused ourselves to go free Kermit in a creek that ran through a gully down the street.
Junie had already said her goodbyes when we put it in the shoe box and hid it in the bushes by the fence, but she was still looking sadly out the window as we made our way down the street. I sympathized with her and remembered when I brought a lost puppy home after school one day.
Mom couldn't stop sneezing. She didn't get a life threatening reaction, she just kept sneezing and her eyes watered up. She got the same way in spring with all the pollen in the air. One time I went so far as to write a report on hypoallergenic animals and the shots people could get that helped with allergies. Really, I just wanted a pet. I would've been okay with a snail. So I knew exactly where Junie was coming from.
As we were walking, Mike carrying the slimy green bastard, clouds started to roll back in to signal another storm was enroute. Mike had to explain to me that northern California wasn't nearly as dry as its southern counterpart, and our area in particular received a good forty inches a year, together with the occasional snow flurry.
Mom and Dad had really picked a good location to live, even though it meant Dad had to commute a couple of hours. Dad's hope was to eventually be able to work remotely again and only commute when he was need in the office.
"Bon voyage, Kermit," Mike cooed as he freed our little green hopper. It hopped into the creek and was quickly out of sight. My perch on a boulder allowed me observe, while keeping me safely away from the slimy bugger.
Watching as Mike wiped his hands on his pants, I couldn't help but smile. Our conversation hadn't revealed much, but it did feel nice for him to finally share even a small nugget of information with me. And it was even nicer to know I had no risk of losing him to Jez.
I will never deny I was incredibly jealous of Jez. But Mike, well, he was mine and she wouldn't have him. I beamed at the thought, which thankfully, he didn't seem to notice. He joined me on my boulder and looked up at the sky.
"It's going to rain again," I said.
"Yup, but the rain isn't a big deal. It's the fog you have to be careful of."
"The fog?" I could see Mike swallow hard.
"Never mind. Just a story." He quickly back-peddled without elaborating.
"So thank you for finally opening up to me," I whispered.
"Heh." He smirked. "Just remember the next time you get irritated at me for my vagueness, that I'm just as much of a rookie at this friend thing as you are. There are some things I just can't talk about, no matter how much I'd like to, so you have to learn to respect that, okay?"
"I think I can handle that. Maybe someday you'll be able to."
"Maybe. I can only hope. Secrets suck."
We sat there on the rock for a while longer, watching the creek roll slowly by. Since the real rains hadn't yet begun, it was extremely shallow and barely had any water in it. Mike explained that it would pick up a little more and become almost a river that kids liked to play in or ride inner tubes down. It drove the local cops nuts because of how dangerous it was due to the possibility of flash flooding.
We stayed there, sitting side by side without speaking, until the rain sent us running back to my house.
A crack behind me made me stop and turn around to face the tree line again. I swallowed hard as a wolf with deep, blood-red eyes stepped out from behind one of the pine trees and snarled at me.
Its fur was completely black except for a patch of white that stretched up from its nose and spread out to either ear. It almost looked like a T painted on its face. What really scared me about the wolf was that its two front paws both had a large talon sticking out from the center instead of a toenail. I turned to call for Mike, who had already disappeared up the street. When I turned back the wolf was gone. I swallowed hard and ran up the hill to join Mike.
He had stopped to wait for me when he noticed I hadn't immediately joined him. He seemed concerned about something as I climbed over the top of the hill. I figured I must have looked frightened so I tried to clear my expression.
"You okay?" he asked, his eyes searching behind me. I nodded.
"Yeah, just slipped for a second and thought I hurt something. But I'm okay." I tried to smile at him and moved past slowly.
For a second he didn't move to follow, just kept staring at where we'd been. I looked back myself, thinking the wolf had followed me, but it hadn't. The rain started coming down harder, forcing Mike to turn away from the gully.
"Come on," he said. I protested when he grabbed my hand, but he refused to let it go. I had to fight back a gasp when the heat flowed through me again. But it felt like it was trying to protect me instead of burn me. I thought I was losing it.
Chapter 5 – My mind can’t follow me
That damn dream haunted me almost every night. It was almost always the same- a faceless man on top of me, holding me down- but after a while I stopped enjoying it. Sometimes I begged to be released. I pushed and shoved until I forced him off me and woke up screaming. It felt as if my mind was attacking itself, ;ike it wanted to have this dream but at the same time it didn't.
The dreams where I was fighting slowly started to over take the dream where I was enjoying myself, until eventually I never enjoyed it. I always resisted, and the dreams were getting more and more violent. It was really starting to scare me.
I wondered if I was going insane. Animals seemed to stop and stare at me more than usual. The wolf would show up in the gully whenever I was there alone, so I made sure to always have Mike or Xavier with me. I had to be imagining all of it. I just knew I had to be, but it all felt so weird.
School wasn't particularly stressful so I knew that wasn't the cause of my anxiety. I had survived the month of dancing and the month of volleyball that followed. We had moved on to blacktop hockey and it was a class versus class affair- my class against Mike's class. Since I enjoyed hockey, I was thoroughly enjoying blacktop hockey. And to my surprise, I was actually good at it. After all, it involved no skating, just running.
We played about two games a day for a total of about ten games per week. Each of our teachers had a bet going on. They would record how many games each class won against the other. The nets had automatic counters in them, so we could easily keep track of goals even when the teachers weren't watching. At the end of the month the class with the most losses would have to buy the other class pizza.
Mike and I had our own side bet. If his class won I had take him to see the gory horror movie of his choice (a movie genre I hated), and if my class won he had to take me to see the chick flick of my choice (a genre he hated). Naturally I went all out against him. With only a week left, my class was up twenty games to nineteen.
Our teams stayed the, so in the event of a tie the teachers planned to put the two best teams against each other in a winner-take-all game. Those top teams just happened to be mine and Mike's. My class totally smoked his and Mike owed me a movie- something I wouldn't let him live down any time soon.
Ms. Fitzpatrick had finally assigned the happy couples their babies. Much like our careers, our parental status was determined by pulling slips of paper out of a bowl. Most of the class had to raise a baby but there were a lucky few who got to continue their project without one.
Of course Mike and I were not lucky enough to be one of those. Instead we were given a bouncy robotic baby boy.
Each baby was programmed to act like a real baby except during school hours and certain hours in the night. The idea was to be realistic but not so realistic that it actually affected our grades or sleep. We still had to carry the baby with us everywhere and treat it as if it were "real" but it wouldn't cry or need a diaper change from the start of our second period to the end of the day at three o'clock.
We were allowed to get baby sitters from time to time, but their actions would also count toward our grade. If we left the kid with somebody who neglected it, then that neglect would reflect poorly on us and, consequently, our grade. Again, everything was supposed to be as realistic as possible but not one hundred percent realistic.
