“Miss Simmons, will you please come up and present your project.” Mr. Blake gestured to the front of the room as he walked back to his desk. Grace had been working on her project for the past month and she was very proud of it, she even made a scale model of Cuba as a visual for the class. As Grace walked up to the front of the room, a foot stuck out in front of her. Before her foot even made contact with the other, she knew what was going to happen. As her toe slammed against the protruding foot, a scene flashed across her mind; she just knew that if she didn’t catch herself, her model and her dignity would be crushed. Grace felt like a trapeze artist, if she let herself fall there was nothing else that could save her. Grace ignored the whispers and giggles as she struggled to regained her balance. Once she had, Grace continued the gut-wrenching walk up to the front of the room, her confidence beginning to waver with every step. Once she made it to the front of the room she set her model down and turned to face the class.

“C-c-cuba is an island country in the C-carribean,” Grace’s eyes shifted downward as embarrassment took hold of her. She heard a couple snickers throughout the class.

“It’s okay, Grace. Keep going,” Mr. Blake said sympathetically. Grace clears her throat and begins talking once again.

“Havana is the capital of C-cuba and it’s l-l-largest city,” Grace’s eyes glance upward just as Mr. Blake covers his mouth to stifle the laughs threatening to escape from his mouth. The papers fall from her hands as tears start rolling down her cheeks. She expected her classmates to laugh at her, but not her own teacher. Teachers are supposed to be there to support you; and what just happened was far from support. Grace ran out of the room, the pounding in her ears completely drowning out the desperate calls of her civics teacher. The laughter followed her down the hallway, but Grace barely noticed. All she wanted was to get out of this nightmare. Fast. Grace ran down the steps of her school, the brightness of outside momentarily blinding her. Once she regains her eyesight she looks around wildly making sure no one has followed her. Grace’s house is just three blocks away, she breaks into a jog as she crosses the street. The tears rushing down her face blur her vision, so she doesn’t see the blonde hair girl in the cheerleaders’ uniform walking towards her. She closes her eyes for a moment trying to clear the tears from her eyes, praying nobody important saw her in her time of weakness, when she bumps into the girl. Coffee flies everywhere staining her shirt and the girls’ uniform, Grace feels the hot liquid begin to soak into her shirt.

“Ugh! Watch where you’re going freak!” the girl screeches, “I’m going to have to get this dry cleaned now!”  Grace recognized her as the head cheerleader at her school, Sarah Jenkins.

“I, um… I-I’m so sorry. I g-got to go!” Grace runs past Sarah as the blood rushes to her head.

“I’m gonna get you for this, freak!” Sarah stomps her foot and whips out her phone.  

“Brad, can you come pick me up, you will not believe what just happened!” Sarah whined into the phone. Before she was out of earshot, Grace briefly heard the name, Brad. Grace stopped abruptly, THE Brad? Brad Whetherford, the quarterback on their high school football team. Brad, the boy Grace has had a crush on since the first grade, but he was dating Sarah, and there was no way he’d ever go after a girl like Grace. She sighed and walked the next two blocks in complete silence, thinking about her stutter, the burden she was cursed with since she was little, weighing her down like a sack of rocks.

As Grace walked up the driveway, it dawned on her that she had no way to get inside her house. Both her parents were at work and she forgot all her stuff in her locker. Grace realized that if she left now, she could get back to the school before the janitor locked up for the night. Grace turned around and broke into a run. Halfway there, she encountered Sarah and her posse.

“What ya running from, freak?” Sarah laughed along with her friends. “Didn’t I tell you to stay out of my way?”

“E-excuse me,” Grace tried to squeeze past the girls, but they blocked her path.

“Put this on,” Sarah threw a garbage back at her feet. “Now!” Grace walked behind some bushes, her hands were shaking uncontrollably as she tried to untie the bag. Inside all she found was a little black dress and some heels. She put it on she walked back out, standing behind the girls was Brad and some guys from the football team. Somebody whistled.

“Lookin good, Simmons,” an unidentifiable face said as everyone laughed.

“Not for long,” Sarah giggled. “Hand me the maple syrup.”

 

Grace walked home pulling sticky feathers from her hair, typical, she thought. Grace walked through the door as a tequila bottle sailed through the air and shattered on the doorframe right by her head. Grace ducked and ran to the stairs. Not this again.

“SHANNON! I told you that I wanted the dishes done when I get home! DO THESE LOOK CLEAN TO YOU??” Her father bellowed while flinging his hands in the air.

“I’m sorry, honey. I just had so many chores to do, it completely slipped my mind,” Her mother said quietly. Her father grunted. He grabbed a bottle of Bourbon and stomped downstairs. Grace slowly started making her way upstairs. The stair under her right foot creaked as she shifted her weight. Grace closed her eyes, mentally pinching herself.  Her mother glanced her way with a look of confusion on her face. Suddenly, the look of confusion turned to anger as remembrance took place.

“Just where do you think you’ve been? It’s almost 10 o’clock! What do you have to say for yourself?” Her mothers’ raised voice getting higher with every sentence.

“I-”

“You know what, doesn’t matter. Just go do the dishes, and I don’t want to hear another word from your mouth for the rest of the night. Am I clear?” Her mother turned to walk upstairs. Rage surged through Grace’s body. Not knowing where it was coming from, maybe it was the project disaster or the chicken prank; but what Grace did know, was that she was mad.

“N-no! Mom I have homework,” Grace said, louder than intended. Her mother whirled around, hatred flashing across her face.

“NO? Did you just say NO to me?” Her mother brought her hand back, but Grace dodged her mother's’ arm and ran upstairs before her mother could strike her.

“GRACE!” Mrs. Simmons screamed after her. Grace scrambled up the stairs and locked her bedroom door. She fell onto her bed and screamed into her pillow. Why does my life have to be so hard, she thought.

 

Grace woke up the next morning with a mix of dried drool and tears on her face. She walked to the bathroom praying her mother wasn’t awake and in the bathroom. Grace always wakes up an hour before her mom so she can get ready while avoiding the uncomfortable chit chat after an argument. Grace looked at her phone, it said 9:46. School started more than an hour ago! Grace looked around wildly for her backpack. She’s just going to have to go to school in the clothes she wore yesterday. It’s not like anyone is going to notice. Grace found her backpack and dashed down the stairs and out the door. If she ran the whole way there she could get to school just in time for second block. As she was turning the corner she found herself face to face with her worst nightmare. They boy she was in love with, and the girl that hated her guts. Sarah and Brad were screaming and yelling at each other. Grace gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. They turned to look at her, and they were furious. Grace was mortified, she spun around and took the long way to school. Avoiding as many people as possible. When she got there she was panting and out of breath. Once she collected herself she walked through the doors. What had she just witnessed? Were they about to break up? Would the boy of her dreams finally be available? Woah, woah, woah. Calm down, Grace. Even if they did break up, why would he even want you? You’re just a dork with a stutter.

The rest of the day went by in a blur, all she could think about was Brad. On her way home she saw something she never thought she’d see in her life. Brad. Sitting all alone. Without Sarah. Grace tried to walk as silently as possible as not to draw attention to herself. Didn’t do any good. Her footsteps made noise no matter how hard she tried. Brad looked up. Grace held her breath.

“Hey, you’re that girl that Sarah’s always hating on. Ginny, Gabby, something like that,”

“Grace,” Grace mumbled sheepishly.

“Huh? Oh right, sorry. Listen, I’m really sorry about the whole feather, syrup thing. It wasn’t my idea, it was all Sarah’s. You know how she can get, if you don’t do what she says, she can make your life a living-”

“Yeah, I-I know,” Grace interrupted, “I’ve felt her r-rage at full blast, a h-hot, w-wet blast at that,” she stuttered while remembering the coffee fiasco.

“I know, I know. That’s why we broke up,” Grace’s heart leaped into her throat.

“B-broke up?” Grace whispered, can’t believing what she was hearing.

“Yeah, she dumped me for Bryce, the linebacker,” Brad glared at the ground. “I was going to dump her anyway, but she always has to have the upper hand,” Grace cleared her throat, and Brad looked up. Their eyes made contact for a brief moment before Grace looked away.

“Just out of curiosity, do you have a date to homecoming?” Brad asked. Grace’s eyes got wide and she felt butterflies in her stomach. Was he serious? Brad’s question seemed genuine.

“N-no, why?” Grace’s hands were shaking uncontrollably. She hid them behind her back to prevent Brad from seeing her nervous tick.

“Well, now that I don’t have a date, I was wondering if you wanted to go… with me,” Grace felt like she was about to throw up. She couldn’t believe THE Brad was asking her out! Not in a million years would she think this could happened. Grace was a nobody, things like this never happened to people like her.

“I’d love t-to.”

 

Grace calmly walked away until she was out of sight from Brad, then she ran. She ran, and ran, and ran. She had never been happier in her life! It felt like all her best birthdays wrapped up into one big birthday. Aaah, homecoming! Grace was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn’t realize when she got to her house. Grace felt like she would never stop smiling. When she unlocked the door, her head started to clear, and reality hit her. Like a brick. Homecoming was tonight… and she didn’t have a dress! Grace walked upstairs and into her mothers’ room. She went over to her mother’s closet and looked inside. While she was glancing around the closet her eyes fell upon a beautiful, white, lace, dress. She ran her fingers along the hem and a shiver went up her spine. It was perfect! Grace wiggled into the dress and strapped on her cream-colored wedges. She swiped a little eyeliner on her eyes and ran a comb through her hair. Tonight was going to be amazing, she just had a feeling. Grace checked her watch and realized that if she wanted to get to the dance on time she’d have to leave pronto. She heard a click. Grace stood still, and held her breath. She heard another click and a creak as her front door opened. Oh God. Her mother was home.

“Hello? Is anybody home? Grace? Harry?” Her mother seemed like she was in a good mood. But she has a short temper and if Mrs. Simmons saw Grace wearing her clothes… she wouldn’t be in a good mood for long. Grace tiptoed to her room as silently as possible, avoiding all the squeaky floorboards. Once she got to her room and knew her mother was downstairs, she started shaking. And with shaking came panic attacks. Oh no, not now. Please not now. I have to get to the dance! But how? she thought. Grace scanned the room until her eyes stopped on the window, Of course! She’ll just climb out the window. She pulled open the window and stuck her head outside to check that her mother wasn’t there. Then one leg over the other she climbed out the window and down the fire escape. Once she was down she checked her watch again. 7:56. Grace had four minutes to get to the dance without looking like a jerk and ruining probably her only chance with Brad Whetherford. She unstrapped her wedges and hiked up her dress.

Five minutes later she made it to the school. Sweaty and out of breath. Well, that’s better than late. The second she walked into the gym her eyes found Brad. He looked so handsome in his white tux. In his hand he held a corsage. Her eyes lit up. He bought her a corsage! And it went with her dress perfectly. She bent down to fix her shoes, when she looked up her heart plummeted. There was Brad, and there was Sarah. He was sliding the corsage onto her wrist. Grace fought back the urge to cry as Sarah kissed Brad on the cheek and they walked to the dance floor. Grace turned around and stumbled out of the gym. She ran out of the school tears fighting to spill out of her overused tear ducts. Grace just wanted to go home. She felt her makeup start to run down her face. This was supposed to be the perfect night. Her head was throbbing and those two bright lights and blaring horn didn’t help at all. Grace stopped and turned to see where--

Okay so my school year it started off pretty good and then came the worst time  of my life,

 so before you get completely lost I’ll go back to when it started.

So me and Kenna were best friends we weren’t family but we totally  acted like it, I think everyone has that friend who you and them go back and forth to each other's house’s. We did that, until it happened she was diagnosed with stage 3 cancer, She had gone to 2 different hospitals that week.Yet she still went to school the days she was able to pick herself up and push herself to it. 

On Wednesday June 17 2019 was when the worst day ever happened, Me and Kenna were in the hallway almost to the classroom she dropped her books and fell to the floor I quickly dropped down with her yelling at the top of my lungs “HELP SOMEONE HELP CALL 911 HURRY” I told a kid to help me get her out to the parking lot. The scary lady who got her in the ambulance wouldn’t let me go with her so as soon as school got out I ran to the hospital, I dashed through thorn bushes and and a spiky fence (I cut my leg a little bit). I ran in the doors and said “I NEED TO SEE KENNA RICHARDSON!!” I explained with a terrified voice. “Only close family is allowed to visit at these times. But you can wait here for her if you would like” as the lady who was at the desk exclaimed , “How is she will she be okay, And can I call my mom to tell her that she should come and get me here.”

“Yeah what ever tickles your fancy dear.” as she rolled her eyes at me.

5:18 A.M  6/18/19 the nurse comes out and tell me i can see her now so I walked in the room and saw her eyes were shut so at first I thought she was dead that my best friend didn’t make it that god thought she wasn’t good enough for this world then I here her say “Tay is that you” with a soft week voice…..  I ran up to her and said “I was so scared I thought you had left me and I don’t want you to leave me you can leave when I know I can  take on the world by myself cause it would be hard enough to go threw 1 year then the rest of my life.” “Awww Tay but I don’t know if I can make it threw the day I can’t promos you……….. BEEEPP is all I heard. KENNA KENNA CAN YOU HERE ME, NURES I NEED A NURE IN HERE PLEASE HELP ME.

“Com’on Taylor lets go home we can come back tomorrow.” “WHAT IF THERE IS NO TOMORROW WHAT IF THIS IS THE END MOM I CAN’T LEAVE” “Ok I’m going to get some blankets for us from home you stay here.”  “What else was I going to do go skydiving while your gone.” “Don’t get sassy with me young lady.” as Taylors mom explained “.

The next day Taylor went to school with Kenna still at the hospital, The teacher said I have some bad news class Kenna is still in the hospital I started crying many people gathered around me trying to make me feel better. At lunch I went outside to get some fresh air, all I see is Sara (Sara with no h and Kenna’s so called friend) she had hung her self on the monkey bars,The same monkey bars where me and Kenna became best friends. Well I had thought she hung herself but no i went up to her body and saw a note that had said *This is what happens when you tease a Richardson, next person I see making fun of Kenna that strong brave girl they will die I don’t know how yet but they will,that’s not a threat that is a promise.*

Threw out the week more bad stuff happened, Monday Kenna had to go to the hospital Tuesday Sara was murdered Wednesday a fire started in the library Thursday my aunts wedding got destroyed and friday my teacher got in a car accident. So far this isn’t going as good as it could be. 

I walked in the door and my mom was sitting on the couch with Mr. and Mrs.Richardson I slowly walked over and asked "Is Kenna okay” “Sadly we don’t know yet they wouldn’t let us see her because she was still in surgery” 

“not to sound mean but what are you doing here?” I asked “well right before she went in to surgery Kenna told me that if she didn’t make it that she wanted you to wright a speech and say it at her funeral, if you would be okay with that.” “Of corse I will do that I love Kenna to death *tears up a bit* bad choose of words, but I love her more than anything in the world I will start right now.”

As I ran up the stairs almost falling on the 6th step but just like her I pushed threw, and never gave up.

“Mom can we go see her I heard someone say that Kenna is out of surgery.” “Well I can’t stay there with you so I will drop you off at the door so I can go do some shopping, and before I do that we can go get some flowers and a nice vase.” so me and my mom rushed to the store and got some pink roses that is her favorite flower.

Right before I opened the door to her room I heard a strange voice form inside the room I opened the door a crack, it was a tall and scruffy looking man with a dark black coat and a small white hat. I saw him turn around and walk toward the door so I quickly ran to the other hallway and as he walked past me I got a good look at his face it looked like my old 4th grade teacher Mr.Malzberg but I didn’t bother to say hi I just wanted t go in and see Kenna.

“Hey Kenna how are you doing?” I asked with a soft voice “I have been better you know because kinda dying in a hospital wasn’t my first choose of what I should do today.” As Kenna explained with a long sigh at the end.

“Well your mom told me that you said you wanted me to write something and say it at your funeral.” “She did when did she see you, she said she would only be gone for a minute, your house is a 15 minute drive and…” I cut her off "only your mom came your dad was still here waiting for you to get out of surgery”  “OWW help me……..” “NURSE NURSE COME HERE NOW” almost 50 nurses came in Kenna’s little room I overheard a nurse say that they had to get her in to a bigger area.

I jumped on her bed as the nurses were moving it. I told one of them that I had to stay with her. that my mom and her mom and dad were at my house and I was left here with her so I can’t leave her side at anytime, if there is a fire i would give her a piggy back ride to safety. “Okay sweetie just stay on the bed with her unless the doctor says other wise.” I got up close to Kenna and took her hand and I said "I’m right here but if you don’t feel like you can take much more just say good bye then leave me okay <3 but you will always be here in my heart." 

just like that she said “This cancer thing is starting to get old, but I’m not going down with out a fight.”  The doctor made me get off so he could bring her into another surgery and as I jumped down I said “ KENNA WAIT” as i yelled the doctor stopped and said we can’t stop moving she might die so i walked up to where her head is and whispered softly “kick cancers butt” they opened the door to the operation room and a nurse said I can go any further so i started walking toward Kenna’s room and I started singing don’t take the girl by Tim McGraw “the baby is doing fine but his mama’s fading fast and I hit my knees and here I prayed take every breath you gave me take the heart from my chest but god please don’t take the girl.” about 5 other people joined me I started to cry.

“Taylor where are you.” my mom said with a terrified voice “I’m right here, Can I ask you something mom?” “yes what is it sweetie.” “Where is Dad, did he die?” “Oh Taylor I wish I could give you an answer that but…..” I cut her off and said “ WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T HAVE AN ANWSER, I’m sorry for yelling but I look at Kenna and her mom and dad where here when she broke her finger but only you were here when I broke my leg and bruised a rib, I have never been to a father daughter dance because I only have a mom I might have a dad but you know I have never met him.”  “Well your dad, right before you were born your dad went in to the army and he sent me a letter once a month but then 1 month I didn’t get one and then i didn’t get one the next month and never got one again.” “Mom I’m so sorry.” “No I’m sorry for not telling you about your dad.” 

“Hey um you and Kevin went in to war together right?” “Yeah why?” said Mike Taylor's dad’s best friend) “well he did come home right because his daughter was wondering about him.”  “Yeah he’s living with me why did you not see the letter he  sent you that said he was coming home?” “OH MY GOD NO I DIDN”T so he got off the plane and looked all over for me and his daughter and called for us everywhere?” “Yeah he did and he said that  he went to the house that you lived in and you weren’t there the house was vacant and had a welcome home sign on it, so he just walked in and welcome home is some way of getting people to like the house that a relater slogan". "Well tell him to come to Jakup elementary school on friday at 2:15 PM don’t be late or you will miss seeing his own daughters first dance recital tell him not to miss it okay!”

 

Friday 2:00 PM 

"Everyone take your seats well unless your in the back then stand away ha ha ha ha don’t you get it I do *stand up* comedy” Mrs.Libby (the dance coach) said with a sorta laughing voice. since my mom is a good sport she stood up and started laughing as loud as she could just to make Mrs.Libby happy.

After the recital my mom was saying "where is that son of a……” some man cut her off and said “which one is ours?” he said with a big smile mom turned around and said “KEVIN, BABY I MISSED YOU SO MUCH!!!!” as my mom and this Kevin guy kissed and I don’t know how they did it that long I mean how long can they hold there breath. Mom pointed at me and said to Kevin “That our baby girl over there by the mirror.” so  this Kevin guy went up to me and said “So I here that you never met your dad.” “Yeah I saw you kissing my mom.” I said  with a lot of sass “Well  did you know that your mommy is my wife?” “Um no but that means that you are my my my….” he finished my sentence for me “ That means I’m your dad.” Well nice to meet you.” Is what I whispered in his ear when we hugged.

“Where’s Taylor I’m not going into another surgery without herring from her.” said Kenna with a serious voice  *RING RING RING* My moms phone went off and all I heard was Kenna’s mom yelling “GET TAYLOR HERE NOWW.”

I opened the door to Kenna’s room and all I see is the doctor trying to get Kenna to agree to go in to surgery “NO I”M NOT GOING UNTIL TAYLOR  GETS HERE.” “Kenna I’m here don’t worry I won’t let anything happen and guess what I met my dad at the recital.” WELL THATS GOOD FOR YOU BUT I’M FINE JUST TRYING NOT TO LET GO, Taylor come here.”  I got my ear to her mouth and she said “Don’t tell anyone but I love you so good bye.”

“Taylor whats wrong why are you crying?” asked my  dad with a serious voice “Nothing you can help with.” Tay said with the longest sigh ever.

dad reached over and put his arm around me and said I’m so sorry that I wasn't here for you at all and I understand if you don’t like me yet but give me a chance please.” “What do you mean give you a chance I love you.” Then why are you so sad please tell me.”   “I JUST CAN”T I’m so sorry but I just can’t.” I ran up the stairs with tears running down my cheeks and I slammed my bedroom door shut then locked it., I ran in my closet and found one of her Kenna's and put it on with a pair of my baggie sweat pants. I curled up with a book and it isn’t just a book it is me and Kenna’s memory book I cried as i flipped every page.

The phone rang down stairs and all I heard was mom saying “are you sure.” mom told me put your shoes on were going out.

"Why are we at the hospital, were not going to see Kenna right.” “If I said no that would be a lie.” Taylors mom explained. “Dad will you carry me I feel to sad to walk.” “Yeah if you tell me why you are sad.” “Kenna said goodbye.” I started crying some more. Dad brought me into the recovery room and right behind Kenna’s mom was Kenna in a wheel chair. “KENNA KENNA YOU SCARED ME SO BAD.” “I will tell you why in a little while, I love you so much please don’t tell people I was going to give up if you cared please don’t tell my mom and dad.” “Okay but tell me why you were I went in my room and prayed for you and asked god why did he think you weren’t good enough for this world please just tell me why.” “Not right here.” “Then where I’m going to come over tonight so tell me then okay.” Yeah”

“No thank you I’m good I don’t want any water Mrs.Richardson.” I said

“so Kenna wanna tell me now?” “Okay so I had this dream one time and It was picture day and right before Sara’s picture was taken there was a fire.” I cut her off “But you do know that is what actually did happen right it wasn’t a dream.” “Then why did I live it twice hmmm?” said Kenna with a sarcastic voice   

“Okay then maybe you did know that, but what does that have to do with this?”

“I had a dream and I didn’t beat cancer and since the first dream came true then I thought that this one would to.”

RING RING RING the phone went off Mr.Richardson came in and said "Taylor its for you.” “Hello  who is this?” “come to the house asap.” said Paten "OK YOU KNOW WHAT ELES WOULD I DO AT 1 A.M .” “you will get to meet someone new.” I rushed to the house I ran there and told Mr.Richardson to call if anything happens to Kenna.

“I’m here mom who called me at 1 A.M.” “It is no big deal but I just thought you would want to meet your sister since you got to meet your dad but I’ll tell her that she can go back to college.” Mom said “ No no no I want to meet her, So where is she, and whats her name and what color hair does she…” Mom cut me off “ Why don’t you go in her room and find out for yourself. I walked in a room that I had never noticed before. “Hello I’m.” she cut me off "I know who you are I knew what your name was before you did.” “Oh yeah your my sister you already know me I just don’t know you.” Taylor said “Well I’m Paten you honestly don’t remember me?” Paten said with a sad voice. “I’m sorry I’m trying really hard and I can’t remember.” “Its okay I probably wouldn’t remember me either after…..” Mom cut her off “SHHHHHHHHUT UP.” “Mom you never told her I thought you were going to be honest with her.” Paten said with a disappointed change in voice.”Never told me what?” I asked with a somewhat scared voice as man walked in the room. “Daddy.” Paten ran up to the man, “Daddy, This isn’t our dad.” I said confusedly “what do you mean baby I have always been your dad.” said the strange man  as he pulled out his wallet and opened a compartment in it to a ton of picture “see.” he showed me one of him holding me in the hospital, “Whats going on I’m so confused,  Then wheres David?” Taylor asked “Oh honey David is dead" “No I saw him like 3 days ago I saw you kiss him at my recital and I know that was when he told me he was my dad not this guy, How old is he anyway he looks like he would be dating Paten.” said Taylor “Um what has gotten into you I have always been your dad and I’m not liking this girl your turning into.” said the strange man who is trying to be my dad. “I just need some sleep can I just have some alone time.

*Dear diary so this man is trying to say he’s my dad and last thing I remember is that I said dad (David)I love you don’t leave me ever again, and now i have some random guy who looks maybe 20 or 21. I’m so confused I just want everything to go back to normal.*

I couldn’t sleep so I snuck down the stairs and went to get some water and something to munch on, as I go over to the fridge to get a yogurt that guy, well my dad people have been telling me   was leaning up agents the side of the fridge and made me droop my glass of water thus the glass cup to shatter on the cold tile floor. “Wow chill out Tay.” “Yeah don’t call me that my family and friends say that not people I barely know.” “You know who I am not stop being a little liar and just embrace the fact that I am you dad.” “Why should I except a lie, Huh to me that doesn’t sound like a good idea.” I ran up the stairs trying to get away from him I dashed threw the hall grabbed my cell phone and called Kenna RING RING RING her phone went off “Kenna I’m coming over after school.” “So your going to Kenna’s tomorrow, need me to bring you home?” I dropped the phone it fell on the floor I said with a hushed voice as I rocked my self back and forth on the floor I’m never alone am I.

My mom came up to me and asked me “Are you okay? You look hot.” 

“I don’t know whats going on I.” I didn’t Finnish what I was saying. I said “Mommy?" as my vision blurred and I got all weak and fell to the floor and the last thing that I remembered that my head hit the floor and never got up I.

Three Months later 

 

I still couldn’t see a thing my eyes were looking in to something white and I didn’t know what it was but I still couldn’t open my eyes and I couldn’t hear anything. Sometimes if I was really good I would hear some people talk to me and then everyone in a while I would go and get sick from being moved fast like everything was happening before I new it one second I was being told you can do it, Then the next I hear is were losing her.

I just wanna be able to knowing whats going on.

I couldn’t help but here many people say my name so I try so hard to open my eyes and Just couldn’t so every day I got just a little closer to opening them. Someone said my name I sat up and opened my eyes and Everything was white I couldn’t tell anything apart and I looked over and saw my sister that had died when she was 1 year old she said “Pst come on” I fowled her as we walked to a man and he said “Are you okay?” he came up to me and gave me a hug.

“To be honest  no, no I’m not I don’t know what to do I’m scared and confused and I’m in pain bad bad pain.”

“It’s okay baby girl, If you just let go and stop trying it won’t hurt anymore.

“Who are you?” I said as I backed into a wall as he followed.“You don’t remember me.” “No who are you?”

“I am your dad.”

“Wow how original your the third person who said that. I just wanna know who is my real dad I wanna be able to trust someone, I wanna be able to say daddy I love you and know that is my dad.”

“Well how could I prove to you I’m your real dad?” 

“I don’t know tell me something that I only my real dad would know. Something that I would no I only remember form up to the age of 1 sorry that might just be a tad hard to do.”

“Well How about the day you let your first tooth you were almost 2 years old and loved the color pink you said that if there wasn’t enough tincle on the christmas tree it would die and every time that you lied a fairy died so You never told a lie.” I ran up to him threw my arms around his neck and gave him a hug and said with tears coming down my cheeks. “Its you it truly is you.” “Yes its me. Um so whats going on why are you here?”

“Well I don’t know where is here and what happened to me the thing that mom didn’t want me to know?’ I said as I was wiping away my tears. “Well when you were 9 me and you were on our way home from the airport. Someone came onto our side of the road and I didn’t know it and we crashed you were in a coma for 7 years and just came out of it almost half a year ago.” “And what happened to you?” “Well darling I died, I had no say in if I stay in this world or if I was going to be taken out. The car hit and broke my ribs and destroyed my lungs I was dead before the ambulance came.” “But daddy then what happened to me cause I’m not close to 5 years old any more. I’m 14 now and I’m going to be honest with you what ever happened to me cause me to have so many problems.” “Baby you were in a coma for about 5 years, you cam out of it when you were 10.” “Are you for real I missed 10 years of my life and I wasn’t doing anything I missed the big two digest birthday party. But I don’t know any more because I remember every party I have ever had but not for under the age of 5, Why?”

“Baby we don’t have much time you have to choses if you wanna stay with me and your aunt or me and your mom?” “ Wait thats not my mom that I have been living with?” “ no your mom was trying to stay with you all night and the guard pushed her up against a wall and your mothers bones are all weak her ribs were shattered and she had internal bleeding every where her lungs were bruised and there was no way she would have ever recovered.She knew that she would never get better so she went into your room and gave you a kiss on the head and said I love you but I have to go your my whole world I know you would want me to stay here with you and I would love to stay with you and help you threw this world but If you knew what I felt right now you would wanna levee to  I love you so much. I started to cry a little “What if I don’t choose what will happen where am I?” “Sweet hart you have to decide now before I go.” “Daddy I wanna see mommy but what do I do? I wanna say goodbye first.” I said with tears coming down my cheeks. he came and went on one knee and wiped my tears and said “Baby I want you to decide what to do, If you wanna stay with me your mom and little sister and brother then give up just don’t hold on anymore don’t try just let go.” “How do I do that?” I asked while he Vanished.

So now your all caught up. So I’m trying to see if I should stay in this world I was in a coma and my friend never had cancer, I don’t know if thats my real dad I don’t remember, I don’t know who my mom is I didn’t know that I had a baby brother and sister. All I know is that I’m half dead and I get too choose if I stay on this earth with many more obstacles to go threw and have mean names and  get treated differently and never be the same again, Or end it all right here and right now make it so I can meet my mom and dad and brother and sister.

I’m thinking and thinking and I finally thought well I’m going to die someday but not today I want to go to prom and college and I wanna have kids and tell them my story. I sat on the ground and thought I can do this I’m going to do it I’m going to make it.

 

Two Days Later 

“Haha mommy stop it its to funny.” I said with a big laugh “Lalal!!!” my Aunt said with a silly face.We both got distracted and didn’t see it until it was to late we went head on in to an oil truck. I got thrown out of the windshield and  had a 4 degree burn on my face and chest you could see my ribs.I was dead before my aunt said anything. I saw my self lying on the ground not saying anything or moving, I was rising up out of my body.

I saw everything that day from the beginning and end of life everything that I had ever done was rift before my eyes. There was only one thing I wish I could have done I wanted to say goodbye to Kenna.

 

I saw my mom and dad brother and sister we were all a family for once and nothing would separate us, well not until it happened.

“Let’s start with an easy question. Why are you here, Sofie?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.” A young girl, Sofie, was balled up sitting on a couch in a small office. The office was painted two different shades of gray and was covered in motivational posters and inspirational quotes. There was a clock on a table near the door. It read 2:02. The couch Sofie sat on was directly across from a cushy chair, filled by a middle-aged woman. The woman had a yellow legal pad on the arm of the chair, and was looking at Sofie intently through small, squarish black glasses. She was wearing a gray sweater dress that made her blend into the walls.

Sofie, on the other hand, was wearing black leggings with a maroon Community High School crewneck. She had on muddied white converse, with wool socks sticking out of the tops of them. She was looking everywhere in the room, except at the woman across from her. Sofie’s eyes skirted back and forth between the bookshelf on the right side of the room and the bookshelf on the left, eyeing books with titles like Get Out of Your Mind and Into Your Life and The Six Pillars of Self-Esteem.

“Those books probably don’t even help your patients. The Six Pillars of Self-Esteem? Sounds like a bullshit way to get money out of people who hate themselves.” Sofie glared at the floor as she spoke to the woman across from her. She noticed a yellowish stain in the white carpet on the floor. “Did someone piss themselves in your office? Wow, you must be pretty bad at your job.”
“Sofie, we aren’t here to talk about the books I have or the stains on the carpet. We are here to talk about you. So, let me ask you again, why are you here, Sofie?” The woman was getting slightly annoyed but disguised it with her sickeningly sweet tone of voice.

“I don’t know, doc. You tell me. You are the professional in the room. Unless we’re talking about drinking, then I’m the professional.” Sofie laughed at the joke she made at her own expense. It was a dry laugh, missing the happiness one would usually have.

“There we go, Sofie. We are here to talk about your drinking. And why do you think you needed to come to therapy to address this issue?”

“What’s your name again? I don’t remember. My parents told me about a hundred times but I just wasn’t paying that much attention ‘cause I don’t care.” Sofie was quite talented at switching subjects when it came to discussing issues she didn’t want to discuss.

“I’m Dr. Howard. You can call me Joy also, if you would be more comfortable with first names. Let’s try to focus on the issue at hand, though. What has been going on with your drinking?”

“I drink on weekends? I don’t really know why that’s a crisis situation. About a billion other teenagers across the world do the same thing as me. I don’t need a shrink to talk about it so I really don’t need to be here. That’s what has been going on with my drinking.” Sofie still wouldn’t look Dr. Howard in the eyes. She was focused on the stain on the floor, and her legs were bouncing up and down on the couch. She was relentlessly picking at her cuticles on her left thumb with her first finger. Dr. Howard realized there was not going to be an easy way to get information from Sofie, so she changed the subject this time.

“It says in your file that you were diagnosed with both generalized and social anxiety disorders when you were ten. Did you ever treat those disorders?”

“Well, I had a shrink back then. She was a cunt. We didn’t get along so I stopped seeing her. Then when I was 13, my parents made the executive decision to force me back into therapy but that lasted for about a month. I wasn’t really grooving on that lady either. So, that shrink wrote me a prescription and those pills have been dealing with those anxiety issues ever since the eighth grade.” Sofie let one leg fall out of her tight ball of limbs. She was becoming more comfortable in the office and even though she wasn’t going to admit it, her new sitting arrangement gave her away.

“Why didn’t you like either of your therapists?”
“Because they were dumb. They didn’t really do anything. They told me ways to cope when I was having a panic attack but that didn’t really do much for me. I mean, yeah, in theory, all of those breathing exercises and rational thinking exercises are going to be great but when I’m   in the middle of a panic attack, not much can calm me down, you know? It just seemed like a waste of time for me. And with my meds I’m all good!”

“Okay. Do you think your anxiety is still an issue for you?” Dr. Howard was trying to casually take note of everything that was coming out of Sofie’s mouth. She thought she was doing a good job because Sofie was so focused on the ground, except Sofie wasn’t dumb and she noticed. She let Dr. Howard believe she was succeeding in taking secret notes.

“No. I still have panic attacks but that is never gonna go away. They aren’t even that bad anymore so I can handle them.”
“Have your attacks gotten any worse in recent months?”
“Why does that matter?” Sofie curled back up into the tight ball she had previously been in on the couch. She hugged her legs as tightly as she could to her body and she frantically tapped her fingers across her knees. Dr. Howard noticed this change in behavior and took note immediately. Obviously she had hit a sensitive spot, and Dr. Howard knew she had to dig deeper to see what the issue was.

“It matters because it could help us figure out why you are here right now, and it could make your time with me much shorter, which I know you would appreciate.” Sofie was tempted to tell Dr. Howard the truth about her anxiety. She opened her mouth, closed it, and then rested her head on her knees and shut her eyes.

“Yeah. My attacks have gotten worse. They’ve gotten way worse. And you knew that didn’t you? Of course you knew, Dr. Howard, or should I say Joy? It doesn’t really matter what I call you. You are the same as all the other people I’ve talked to. I am going to tell you that my attacks got worse, you’re going to tell me new techniques I can use when panicking, I’m not going to be able to use them and then we will stop seeing each other. You may up my prescription but that will be the last I hear of you and the last you hear of me.” She stopped talking and took a shaky breath. Her eyes remained closed but water had dripped out of them and trickled down her face sideways to land on her knee.

“It doesn’t have to end up like that. Even just saying those words out loud is making a lot of progress. Why do you think your attacks have gotten worse, Sofie?”

“Because I get nervous in social situations and I get drunk in social situations now, when I can, so if I can’t get drunk, I panic. And then, when I do get drunk, I always seem to end up passed out on the floor because I can never seem to sedate myself enough to stop panicking. And it fucking sucks.” Tears were streaming down her face. She sat up and rolled her shoulders back, stretched her arms and legs out before curling back up into a ball. She set her chin on her knees, staring blankly at the door to the room, face damp.

“Why do you think you can’t go into any of these social settings without panicking or getting drunk?” Dr. Howard spoke softly, genuinely asking this question, not just using a fake tone of voice to get answers out of her patient. She had set her pen and paper aside and crossed her hands in her lap. There was a look of concern plastered across her face.

“Because I’m used to one option or the other. And I’ve gotten into the habit of it. So that means I have to break the habit but that isn’t very realistic so.”

“Why is breaking that habit out of the realm of possibility for you?” Dr. Howard picked her pen back up, waiting in the stance of a therapist ready for a breakthrough with their patient. Sofie sat up again, wiped her tears away with her sleeves and looked at Dr. Howard for the first time the entire session.

“Because. Being drunk is fun. I love drinking. I love the feeling that I get when I’m drunk. Like I’m floating and warm and happy and no one can take me down from that place. When I’m not drunk, anyone can put me into a state of panic in a second. Why on earth would I want to stop getting drunk then?” Dr. Howard didn’t have an answer to this question. Sofie sniffled, rubbed her face with her hands and hopped off the couch. “The clock says it’s 2:59. This session is over in a minute so we might as well cut it short for today.” The sassy, uncaring tone was back into her voice.

“Okay. Same time next week. I will see you then, Sofie.”

 

“Alright. You can tell yourself that.” Sofie opened the door and walked straight out of the office without looking back.

The Last Sentence

“Come on, girl,” I soothe her while patting her beautiful coat, silver like the moon.

I pull her into the trailer and hang a bag of oats near her, in case she gets hungry. I stare into her warm black eyes.

“My beautiful Lexi,” I mumble, and she turns around at the sound of her name. I chuckle and pat her one more time before stepping out of the trailer and riding in the car with my mom.

I feel butterflies in my stomach as we drive to the championship. My mom was comforting me throughout the whole ride. Once we reach, I jump out of the car and run to Lexi. She nickers at the sight of me.

I hug her.

“You’ll do wonderful, I promise you,” I whisper into her neck.

She’s all tacked up and ready to go, but there’s something telling me that this is wrong. I recognize that part of me that still didn’t move on after the death of my beloved horse, Eagle.

“You’re betraying him!” that part of me screams.

“No, I’m not, I’m just moving on,” I tell myself.

“So you say it’s fine to forget the horse that you loved? The horse that you have won so many championships with, the one that risked his life to save yours,” it hisses to me in the back of my head.

 I remember that day. On our last ride together, we were riding by the beach. It was a calm day, the smell of the salty water so soothing. I remember how much Eagle loved the water. I remember him stepping closer and closer until the water almost reached my foot, and that’s when he spooked. I think he saw a sharp object, or maybe he got stung by something, but all of that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I lost him, and that I can never touch his beautiful coat again. I can never ride him by the shore again. Even now, I can’t bear to go near the shore, once a heavenly place, but now haunted with bad memories.

Eagle spooked, and I couldn’t calm him down. He ran uncontrollably, out of the shore, away from the beach, and into the street. There was a truck trying its best to stop. As the tires screeched against the tar; as the smell of burning rubber filled my nose, as Eagle reared up throwing me off his back, I knew that there was no escaping this. I landed on the soft grass by the side of the road. I stood up screaming and ran to Eagle, but I was too late. When the truck and Eagle’s body made contact, the scene was too horrifying for me to look at. I fell to my knees and sobbed.

I jolt back to reality, to today, the day of our competition, Lexi and I. Lexi is looking at me. I feel my eyes water up and I let the hot tears all down my cheek. I take a deep breathe, and push out the agonizing memories.

“We’ll be fine,” I assure myself, as I pull Lexi out of the trailer. I mount her and gently touch the gray mole on her poll. I try not to cry; knowing that my days with Lexi are numbered because she has a bad skin tumor. It’s not fair. After I finally became capable of loving another horse, fate decides that I don’t deserve to be happy. Am I cursed when it comes to horses?

“Let’s go, girl” I say kicking her gently. I ride her to the arena where I wait for my name to be called.

“Sandra Davis on Lexi, please enter the third arena in the show jumping section,” I hear the announcement and jump to life, pulling her to the direction of the arena.  

The butterflies won’t go away. My stomach is tied in knots. My hands get sweaty as I trot into the arena. I break into a canter and run towards the first jump.  When I reach, though, I take a sudden stop. I hear the audience gasp. I have made my decision, and I’m not changing my mind. I’ve been through this conversation with my mom and with myself many times, but now is the time to choose. Winning a prize isn’t that important anymore. A prize is just an object that you carry arrogantly and put on your bookshelf. A horse, on the other hand, is a living creature that you love.

I look up at the audience, and notice my physically disabled cousin gaping at me. I look away and walk towards the judges. I ask for the microphone, and one of them stares at me.

I repeat more firmly, “May I please have the microphone?” 

The staring judge snaps out of it and hands the microphone to me.

I take a deep breath and clear my throat, “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry for the interruption and last-minute changes, but I have decided to withdraw from the championship. I realized on my way here that I’m considered selfish by doing this, knowing that I only have numbered days with my horse. She is suffering from a serious skin tumor, and I don’t want to spend the last of my days with her by riding her in championships that are for my own benefit. I’m sorry.”

I look around at the audience and see my mom nodding at me proudly. I can also see the pain in her eyes. I hear clapping. Someone shouts out, “Treat her!”

“I wish I could, but it’s untreatable,” I whisper into the microphone, pushing back my tears.

I give the microphone to the judge, unable to look at the audience, and I trot away.

Once I reach the trailer, I get off, and lead Lexi into the trailer. I flip my long brown hair away from my face to take a better look at her glossy dapple grey coat. I take out a brush from the supply basket and start brushing her stunning mane down towards where her black mane fades to white. She’s so beautiful, just like any other Andalusian horse.

I hear a creak and look behind me to find a woman standing at the door of the trailer, around her twenties with a very pretty face. Her hair is brown like mine, but it fades to dirty blonde at the ends.

She gives me a small smile and says, “Hey,”

I hesitate for a split second, “Uh, hi,” I fake a smile.

“I was in the audience. What you did was very brave. I work with Williamson Co. it’s for abused hor-”

I cut her off, “Thanks, but my horse wasn’t abused,” I tell her

“I’m aware of that, but I can still hel-”

“I don’t need your help! Her sickness is untreatable, there’s nothing I haven’t tried, okay? I appreciate that you want to help me, but no,” I say.

“If you listened, you would have known that I’m not here to help you, I’m here to help your horse, and before you interrupt me I want to let you know that, even though her sickness is incurable, you can still enjoy her and give her an important mission before you lose her,” she says.  

My head shoots around to her direction. What kind of despicable human would use a horse, when that horse is suffering a tumor?!

“I’m not taking advantage of my horse in the few days before her death! That’s cruel,” I blurt.

She starts laughing, “Why are you laughing?” I ask.

“You didn’t hear my suggestion. I thought it would be good for you, your horse, and any child with disabilities, if we use your horse for equine therapy,” Amy continues.

I start to respond when my little cousin limps in, crying “Why?! Why did you do that, Sandra? I came here to watch you and Lexi!”

“Oh, Jake, I couldn’t. Lexi is sick,” I say to him.

I get down on my knee, and give him a hug.

“It’s not fair,” he says, trying to kick me with his good foot; he has a bad temper.

“Do you like horses, Jake?” Amy asks.

He nods, “I love horses,” he answers.

Amy gives me a glance and smirks, then says, “Sandra and I have decided that it’ll be a good idea to let special children, like you, ride around on Lexi.”

His face lights up “I love you Sandra!” he hugs me, and I look at Amy.

Hmm, maybe this isn’t such a bad idea. Actually, maybe Amy isn’t so bad after all.

*****

After discussing this with my family, I was up all night researching about equine therapy for children with special needs. For children with special needs, riding a horse can help strengthen their weak muscles and improve their balance. It helps the child develop hand-eye coordination, and is like physical therapy, but more fun than the physical therapy in a hospital. It also helps the child to pay attention better and to be more confident. This Amy person can really be on to a great idea!

The next day, I’m in the stables tacking Lexi up for her ride with Jake. I tighten the reins and walk her out. I look around and find Jake and his three friends. They were bubbling with excitement. When I look at them and see the light of joy and happiness in their eyes, I feel better and know that what I’m doing is right.

“So, who’s first?” I ask

 Philip struggles to say, “Me, me!” I nod and look at his mom. She helps me place him on Lexi. Once Philip is safely in the right position, I pat Lexi on the neck and start walking her slowly around the arena. Philip raises his short hands in the air. Lexi nickers, and Philip tries to tell his mom “She likes me!”

“Yes she does,” I assure him.

Once Philip is done, I let Rosie, then Jake have a ride. Rosie’s dad was on the edge of tears when he was talking to me.

“I’ve never seen her so happy in my life, you have no idea what this means. Thank you Sandra,” he takes his wallet out and attempts to give me twenty dollars.

“No thank you, the smile on Rosie’s face was enough payment for me,” I say shaking my head.

He disagrees, “No, you have to take this money. This is the least I can give you; you deserve all the money in the world for making her so happy.”

I hesitate, but take the money and thank him.  Philip’s mom was also very appreciative; she gave me another ten dollars. My aunt was so proud of me, and so was my mom.

*****

Amy came over after lunch with her husband, Chris. He’s a handsome man, with emerald green eyes and wavy, auburn hair. He also works with her in the Williamson Co.; he’s a really nice guy, with a crooked, but pleasant smile.

“You know Sandra, you and Lexi should go to the neighborhood school, and offer a field trip to the stables for the class of kids with special needs. Some of my coworkers and I will help you with the set up and getting trained therapists,” Chris suggested

“That sounds like a good idea,” I tell him nodding my head.

“Yea, we’ll work it out, it’ll be fun,” Amy agrees.

*****

We have been offering the rides for dozens of children over the next two weeks. I can’t describe how good I fell, watching those kids have so much fun. Some of them even gave Lexi carrots, pet her, and brushed her mane. The number of kids coming to the stable keeps increasing every day, but as the number of kids got bigger, so did Lexi’s tumor.

On Thursday, something terrible happened. I was at the stables and when I went into Lexi’s stall to muck it out, I saw that her tumor was ruptured and she was bleeding all over. There was blood all over, in the hay, on her head, some of it was covering her eyes and she was grunting in pain. She was on the floor, whinnying helplessly. I was paralyzed with fear. I screamed at the top of my lungs, and my mom came running. She took one glance and gasped. She hugged me and turned my head around, but I pushed her off me.

“No! No! She can’t leave me; she’s all I’ve got!” I bawl.

“Sandra, come here honey,” my mom tries to soothe me.

“She’s going to die, there’s nothing you can do to stop me from hating my life and myself!” I cry.

My mom grabs a cloth and pushes it down on Lexi’s tumor to stop the bleeding. I keep crying, I can’t look at her. I don’t want her to die.

“I’ll call the emergency vet hotline,” my mom says.

When she leaves to get her phone, I crawl closer to Lexi and hug her, not caring about the sticky blood staining my clothes.

“I promised you I’d take care of you. I was stupid for making promises I can’t keep. I’m sorry, Lexi, so, so sorry,” I sob.

She tries to move to nudge me with her muzzle.

“I love you,” I whisper.

My mom comes in and says, “They’ll be here in three minutes.”

I trace my finger up and down her neck. She keeps on groaning. I can’t stop crying. The vet reaches with Chris. They try taking me off her, but I thrash around.

“You can’t take me away from her!” I scream at them.

Chris grips my shoulders so I don’t move, and he says, “Look at me.”

I struggle to push him away, but he doesn’t move.

“Look at me, Sandra!” he shouts at me.

“What?!” I yell back.

“There’s nothing we can do. Sandra, she’s in agony, you can see that right? The only way to make things better is to put her down. I know it’s hard on you, but unless you want her to keep on suffering, they must put her down,” he tells me softly.

“I get to say good bye, right?” I mumble tears falling down like waterfalls.

“Of course,” he says, letting go of me.

I run to Lexi and hug her one last time, “I tried, Lexi, I swear I did. You were a good horse, I’m sorry it had to end this way. I love you.” 

At that moment, everything came back to me as flashes, all the days we spent together. All the rides we had together, all the competitions we won together, and more importantly, all the kids we made happier together.

I have to say my good-byes. The last thing Lexi hears from me, and that last sentence is, “I’m proud of you for making a difference in the lives of so many.”

*****

Fifteen years from that moment, I’m sitting on my porch’s stairs with two kids, a girl and boy, running around with messy hair and dirt on their jeans. The little girl runs to me and tugs on my sleeve, “Tell me the story again Mommy. Tell me the story about why you opened this riding center for the special children.”

I laugh, “Again? I have told you the story a hundred times already, Lexi.”

“Please, one more time. I want to hear it again, so does Eagle,” she begs, with her big eyes looking at me, that I just can’t say no.

“Oh all right,” I say as I carry her up on my lap, looking up at the clouds, smiling.

 

 

"Hannah, would you like to go to a ballroom dance?"

I looked at my mother while eating my scrambled egg, which was halfway stuffed in my mouth. She was on her smartphone, looking bored as she scrolled endlessly on her screen. Her brunette hair was tied in a messy bun. My dad sat next to her, drinking a mug of coffee while reading a book called The Goldfinch. He scratched his head and yawned, his dark blue hair unkempt. I sniffed the thick, chocolatey aroma of the coffee, licking my lips while knowing the coffee would taste unpleasantly bitter.

"Why this all of a sudden?" I asked, my voice slightly muffled by the food in my mouth. "Also, aren't ballroom dances only in fairy tales?"

My mother agressively slammed the table, putting her phone down. I cringed as she put her hand on her forehead overdramatically, pretending to faint.

"Ballroom dances are NOT only in fairy tales, Hannah!" She showed me her marriage ring, which had a beautiful, sparkling diamond on it. "I met your dad at a ballroom dance."  

"That's right, honey," my dad said, kissing her. I spit out my egg, my appetite ruined.

"You met Dad at a ballroom dance?" I said, scoffing.

I sighed, finishing my spat out scrambled egg, and grabbed a oversized navy sweatshirt that said "Go Wolverines" with flashy letters from the blue couch, putting it on.

My mom stood up. “Come on, Hannah-”

I groaned. “I don’t like that kind of stuff!” I then huffed as I ran upstairs, leaving my mom at the dining table, who made a tsk sound.

 

I stared at my open bedroom window, bored as I laid on the ground, doing nothing. Outside was a cloudy day, the sky filled with dull, grey clouds. I then heard the faint chirps of a bird.

“Wait,” I said to myself. “Why do I hear a bird in my room?”

I then saw a small canary on my bed. My bed was unkempt and a mess. The bird, who looked at me, was the color of a lemon. With a roll of paper in its white beak, it handed me the item. It then flew out the window with no comment, leaving me confused. My eyes curiously looked over the tiny note in my palm, which was a pale blue. I then noticed there was writing on it.

I unrolled it quickly, reading the message sent to me. In graceful, smooth handwriting there was a message on it:

 

Dear Ms. Hannah,

You are invited to the

50th yearly

ballroom dance of

Vast.

Sincerely,

Queen Lorraine

 

“Vast?” I said as I looked at the invitation, skeptical. “I’ve never heard of a country like that before.”

Whoosh! I felt a strong wind, grabbing my sweatshirt in fear of it being torn off by the strong force. My jeans were flapping in the wind. My eyes widened as I saw the object in front of me.

There was a portal, a real one! Inside, it was a bright neon green, lightning crackling inside. I felt terrified, but I also felt unusually compelled to go into the portal. I walked toward it slowly, the wind blowing harder as I got closer. As I went inside, I squeezed my eyes, exhilarated yet a bit scared.

 

I opened my eyes to a brilliant blue sky, the sun shining so blindingly I covered my eyes. I was lying in a lush field of grass. I felt a furry object in my palm, instantly caressing it with my fingers out of instinct. Is this a dream? I thought, closing my eyes.

"Hey! Stop!" I heard a boy's voice say.

Startled, I looked at the object in my hand, which was actually the tail of a coyote. With his dark blue eyes, he glared at me, instantly getting his tail away from me. His dark purple fur shined brilliantly in the bright sun.

"What are you doing? Seriously, humans..." The fox muttered.

I screamed. He looked at me like I was crazy, jumping back.

"Dude!" He said to me. "What is wrong with you?"

"W-why are you talking?!" I stammered.

The coyote then looked down at himself, then looked up at me. "Ah, I forgot humans get shocked when animals talk," he said to himself. "Okay, if you don't want it like this," now talking to me, glaring even more, "I'll just change into my human form."

Poof! In a cloud of smoke appeared a boy the same age as me, about thirteen years old. Wearing a white medical eyepatch on his left eye, he adjusted his the collar of his shirt, a navy sweater on top. Suddenly feeling a bit flustered, I straightened my long, auburn colored hair which was in a mess. He also felt familiar, like I had met someone like him before...

"Ahem," he said, clearing his throat. "I am here to accompany you in the kingdom of Vast."

"But who are you?" I asked.

"That does not matter right now," he replied immediately. "You will find out at the ballroom dance."

He then held his hand out.

"Let's go around Vast, shall we?"

I nodded, holding his hand as he led me to the crowd of buildings in the distance.

 

Animals walking by looked at me, intrigued. I stared at them, each of the animals' color a different hue. A pink bunny hopped past me, carrying a bag of carrots, and a orange panda was gnawing on a bamboo stalk in his paws, sitting on the side of the street. The boy led me through the crowd of creatures, holding my hand tightly.

We walked into an empty cafe that was dimly lit. There were paintings of animals dressed in knight armor, shown bravely fighting a crowd of wild wolves charging at their army.

"Tom, can I have two coffees on the go?" He called out to the silence.

A rustling was heard inside and a tiny lamb, the color of snow, came out of the door behind the wooden counter.

"Coming up, Charles," the lamb called out with a surprisingly deep and manly voice.

He walked over to the right side of the counter, the whirring of a machine coming out from behind. I thought, His name is Charles? Meanwhile, we sat at a table, pushing out the wooden chairs, which made a screeching sound on the ground.

"Do you want to change your clothes?" Charles asked, eyeing my sweatshirt.

"Oh." I looked down, realizing how informal my clothes were. "Yeah, I might want to."

Two cups of coffee were set down on the table.

The sheep said, "Here are your two coffees. Enjoy!"

Before we walked out, the sheep asked Charles, "How's your brother doing?"

"Oh, I don't know," he said, his voice suddenly emotionless.

What was that? I thought, curious. I picked up my coffee, Charles picking up his, as we walked out of the cafe. Charles held my hand once again, making me quite unfocused and embarrassed. I bumped into a dark green grizzly bear, who in return glared at me for a second, then looked at Charles. His emotion of anger instantly changed into forced politeness, bowing silently to me and walking away.

"What was that?" I asked Charles.

"Oh, nothing," he said nonchalantly. "Let's go to a clothing store for you."

He opened the doors of a pastel pink colored shop, the sign above saying "Pop Bubblegum" in bubbly letters. There were mannequins posing cutely, wearing girly clothing. I touched the lace edge of the black skirt on the mannequin and gagged. Charles looked at me, weirded out.

"You don't like this kind of clothing?" He said, obviously greatly confused.

"Uh... I hate to say this," I said, my face hot with embarrassment, "but I'm a tomboy."

He scoffed, but wordlessly grabbed my hand and walked quickly into the store next door. Above the door, it said "Black Crow". I walked in, excited from the handsome white polo shirt in the window of the storefront.

Grabbing clothes from fancy, engraved wooden racks, a pile quickly formed in my arms, filled with polo shirts and jeans. Charles handed me a pair of black trousers, looking away.

"Be classier," Charles said, his face now turned to me."Seriously, the way you dress is very..." His sentence was left unfinished.

I snatched it quickly, then gave my pile of clothes to him. He groaned, sinking quickly from the sudden weight.

"Can you buy all of this?" I asked, nervous about the amount of clothing.

He nodded, handing it to the cashier, who was a masculine white cat dressed in a formal black tuxedo. On his tie was a pattern of goldfish swimming about in a blue sea.

Calculating the total, the cat instantly replied, "$267.45, please."

I gasped, aghast as this price, but Charles just merely sighed quietly as he hand the cat a shiny gold credit card. Is he rich?! I thought. The cat quickly took it, swiped it, and handed it back to him. He then skillfully folded all the clothes and put it in a huge black bag in a matter of seconds.

Charles took the bag. "Hannah, let's go to your room now."

"Right now?" I asked, surprised by this sudden command. "How can we do so if there are so many creatures walking on the streets so haphazardly?"

"Just hold my hand when I snap my finger." He said, then he grabbed my hand, put one hand over my eyes, and snapped his finger.

Taking his hand off my eyes, I gasped at the room. The walls were covered with a pattern of both gold and red roses overflowing. The rug was soft, a maroon color. I felt like my feet sank into it every time I took a step. The bed was beautiful, a translucent crimson canopy hanging over the bed. On the bed was a thick, red blanket embroidered with gold tulips. I jumped onto it immediately, feeling tired.

"Get some rest," Charles said. "The ballroom dance is tonight."

"TONIGHT?!" I shouted, then covered my mouth.

"Yes, tonight," he said. "Here are your pajamas."

He handed me a silky, pale pink nightgown that appeared from nowhere, and silent left the room, closing the door behind him. It was unusually silent. I changed into the nightgown, which felt smooth and pleasurable on my skin, then jumped into the bed, closing my eyes.

 

"Miss Hannah!"

I woke up, rubbing my eyes. The sky outside was now covered with stars and a dark, dark blue, compared to the vivid blue sky before I slept. Two women in maid outfits hauled me up from bed.

"Hey! HEY!" I screamed, unsettled from this sudden movement.

The maids paid no attention to my cries and shouts, stripping me of my nightgown (which I was mortified while they were doing this), putting a very tight corset on me, fitting my bare feet into black flats, and finally, the dress.

I gasped as they pushed me gently in front of the mirror. The dress fitted me perfectly, the long, red dress touching the ground. I felt the velvety fabric of it.

"One last thing, miss."

They brought out a brush. Pulling on the tangles in my hair, they brushed it swiftly and roughly until my long hair was smooth and neat. It cascaded down my back smoothly. A maid then took out a single red rose from her pocket and put it behind my ear.

The maids smiled. "We will lead you to the ballroom," they said. "Follow us."

 

I stared at the ballroom in front of me, breathless. Women in extravagant dresses and men in classy tuxedos danced gracefully, the music slow and patient. The ceiling was adorned with murals of a starry night sky, the room lit by multiple chandelier. My hands nervously rubbed on the skirt of my dress as I walked forward, hopeful to find a partner.

I walked forward, my flats making a clicking sound on the ground. As guests danced, they looked at me briefly, whispering. I couldn't really tell if they were looking at me in astonishment or disgust. Everything then went silent. All the women and men stared at the door entering to the ballroom, so I turned around to see what they were looking at too.

"The Queen, Lorraine, and his son will now enter the ballroom!" An announcer said, his voice booming throughout the room.

There was a magnificent woman, her white hair tied into a neat bun, walking gracefully. She held the skirt of her puffy sky blue gown. Looking around with a elegant aura, everyone bowed to her politely. I bowed with them. A boy then followed her, coming out into the light. As I saw him, I staggered back in shock.

Charles?! I thought, alarmed.

He was looking at his nails, his medical eyepatch replaced by a black one, a simple, blue rose depicted in it. He was dressed in a fine, black tuxedo, with a tie the same as his eyepatch, except the roses covered every empty spot on the tie.

"Today, the prince, Charles, will become engaged to the human, Hannah!" The announcer said, all eyes turning to me.

Blushing, I tried to hide in the crowd, but his eyes met with mine. The lights were turned off, the spotlight on me. I awkwardly smiled, unintentionally putting my hands on a woman's shoulders as I uselessly tried to hide, the woman scowling briefly at me. He walked over as my palms were becoming sticky and sweaty, my heart going aflutter as he walked toward me.

I realized his face was filled with anxiety too, his hands shaking as he walked up to me.

"Uh..." His voice wavered. "Hannah, can you dance with me?"

"S-sure," I said, stuttering.

He took my hand, and behind him I could see Queen Lorraine smiling with approval as we started dancing to the slow, romantic music.

 

I held Charles's hand as we stepped out of the portal in my room. He looked dumbfounded at my room, with clothes unkempt, thrown on the ground in random places. The polka dotted pink wallpaper was starting to peel off the edges, and half of my teal blanket was on the ground. The invitation was still on the ground, the sky outside cloudy.

It seemed like I had never went to the ballroom dance. But Charles told me last night while we were dancing.

"Hannah, the time you spent in Vast doesn't make any difference in your dimension. A day was worth a second in your world."

I was deep in thought, astonished that my time in Vast didn't even take a minute in my house. I snapped back to my attention when Charles put the bag of clothes on the ground. I instantly grabbed his hand. He looked at me, startled.

"Let's go meet my parents," I said.

"Hey, are you sure we can meet your parents with these types of clothes on?" Charles asked.

We both had our clothing on from the ballroom dance yesterday. I grinned.

"It will leave a better impression on them," I said.

We walked out of my room, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. My mother and dad were still at the kitchen table, my seat empty. They were talking in hushed tones until they saw me walk in.

My dad put down his coffee, startled.

"What is this, Hannah?" My mom asked, even though I could tell she already knew, trying her best to hold in her smile.

"Mom, dad, this is my fiancée," I announced to them.

Charles's eyes were wide and frightened.

"Brother...?" Charles mumbled, looking at my father in shock.

Life

Ever since I was little, I’d known that I was different. Nobody else was like me. The long hours I’d spend sitting on the counters painting faces on the mirror. The people would stare at me when I was walking down Main Street with my mom, looking slightly terrified and confused. Everybody can talk, unless they’re mute, but everybody can talk. So can I, but I choose not to. Furthermore, people like me who never want to talk are pressured by society to talk, even if it hurts. People don’t understand that, right? When I was little, I hated going places where I was supposed to talk. Maybe that’s why I would draw pictures and write stories, I don’t know. Maybe the reason was the voices in my head, telling me what to do and who to be. I can’t disobey them, it’s almost like they’re possessing me.

Ever since I was ten, I’d known I was sick. Socially sick, that is. Depressed, not really, but I was still very sick. Bullies never bothered me, even though I had no friends at all. The voices told me they were jealous, and not to care what they say. So that was exactly what I did. Mom feared what was happening to me, she noticed my hands were always cold and I would move strange ways at strange times. That wasn’t why I was sick. Poppa wanted to put me in a straitjacket, but Mom wouldn’t let him.

Then we really noticed I was an alien when I turned thirteen. It wasn’t that puberty hadn’t attacked me yet, because it sure did, the voices told me a lot more that day, they weren’t as quiet. In a way, I liked it. I didn’t feel alone, but I knew that it was reality that I was alone. The voices always reminded me that. The people on Main Street still stared, Mom and Poppa noticed this even more since I was older. Mom told me that Poppa had blown some pretty intense punches at some people, because they were looking at me “the wrong way.” Whatever that meant. School, I can hardly remember a single day from school that year, I don’t know why. I usually have a great memory, but the voices sometimes tune out what’s happening in reality. The voices aren’t why two plus two equals four.

I remember one girl, she was different, not like me but she was different. She had a name, too. We all have names, titles. If we have the wrong name, someone can pick on us for it. I’m glad my name isn’t Daisy or Carol. Those names don’t fit me. I am a strange girl, and I will not deny that fact.

Remember those invisible ink pens that you could only see what you wrote in a certain type of light? Every wall in my bedroom was floor to ceiling in stories. That’s what worried them the most. Don’t worry about who they are yet. It doesn’t matter. It will soon, though.

Mom and Poppa wanted me to take classes to talk, they wanted to send me to boarding school and shove me into counseling. The voices always helped me, though. Even when they put me in a straitjacket, made me scream, and put me in a yellow padded room, the voices kept me company. They told me not to be scared.

Ever since I was little, I’d known that I was different. As of this day, January seventeenth, 3021, there is no doubt that I am different. People describe me as demonic, people are strange. There are no separators between one man and another, the world is one big reproduction factory.

I remember, people talking. They’re all talking. Voices everywhere. Some of them monotone, some of them loud and happy. I saw people’s mouths moving, I heard the words coming from their mouths, but no sound came directly from any one man’s mouth. Not one person could say one word from their own mouth, the words came from the abyss of nothing, air. As I was constantly thinking about why this was, why the words spewed from the air. But there was no good reason. Maybe I didn’t talk because of this, because I didn’t know where the words would come from.

            So now I’ll bet you’re wondering, who are they? Who am I? Well, the second question is easier than the first. I am Adaria, I am different. Moving to the first question, which will be extraordinarily hard to answer rationally, they are members from the DSHP. Or, unabbreviated, Disabled Society Hospitalization Program. Mom and Poppa think I’m disabled, so they got me in this mess with them. Moving on, the boarding school they sent me to was entirely run by them, so I was always in the pool of disabled. Not good enough, I wasn’t accepted by my own mother and father. The voices accepted me, though, they said I was perfect.

            I have not heard the voices for three months. I have not spoken to anyone for three months. The yellow walls aren’t so scary anymore. They gave me my computer so I can write, they’re hoping giving me the computer will help me talk. I get food, and water, I can leave the yellow room, but I can’t leave the facility. As I close my eyes, the fire alarm goes off, and the voices come back. I am no longer alone, I don’t have to worry anymore.

            You still want to leave, Adaria? This is your chance. Go now, before it’s too late.

                “But I can’t go, I look like a patient now.”

            Go anyway, we have to get out of here. If we’re here too much longer, something will happen. Take our words for it, please girl, Adaria, we need you to leave now, we can’t control you. This is all up to you.

                “I’ll do it, I remember how to get out.”

            We have to go again soon, but you won’t expect it or remember we’re leaving. Just get out of here, there is a blue car outside, a Volvo Honda hybrid, that’s for you, use it so we can get away from here. Try to get to Alaska or Maine.

                “Okay.”

            My words are not out loud, they are merely projected through my mind to the voices. I have someone to talk to now, and I don’t have anything more to worry about. I ran out of the building, seeing as it started to flame, and hurled myself into that car.

            “Keys, where are they?”

            They’re in the glove box. Look in the glove box, quickly.

                “Okay.” So I did exactly that.

Epilogue

            They say this place is another world, and in a way it is. The people here are less robotic, but this is still America. This place is a reproduction factory as well, but there is a bit more life here and less gloom. Welcome, my dear, to Maine. It is different here, but they want me back.

            Ever since I was little, I’d known my town was ghastly, but I had never known that my town doesn’t exist. It’s not on any maps, computer programs, or In Between browsers. My town, the one I grew up in, is apparently nonexistent. Imagine that, living almost eighteen years to find out that you were living in a fake city. I remember my mother would always say “we’re all human, but we can’t all be the same. But you, my daughter, you are not of this planet.” Those two sentences were the ones I lived by for a long time.

            But now I’m done. With everything, even breathing. I’m tired, tired of my heart beating, tired of the pain, tired of being different. I’m tired of being a mistake. I lived almost eighteen years with a life structured by lies, not a single truth behind the majority of them. I refuse to believe that a single word that came out of my parent’s mouths, except the obvious of telling me that I should, by all means, tie the rope around my neck and get off the chair. I’m not that high class, that quick, easy death is too good for me.

            Ever since yesterday, I’ve known that I was a low class prisoner to this reproduction factory. Everybody used to tell me I was crazy, nobody believed a word I said. But I now know that nobody said a single truth to me, so was I the only one who didn’t lie? That question will be the last of mine. I feel as my heavy eyelids droop, and like I never did exist, I felt myself lean off the edge of the cliff and begin falling. Swift and graceful, no ropes. The last breath I took was a finally of my terror.

            There is no heaven or hell, there is no God, but there is the Inbetween. This place is beautiful and peaceful, because God had a pretty insane sense of humor- watching people die. Tormenting Adam and Eve, yeah, sure was such a king.

            Those voices, they weren’t really voices. They were my sisters and brothers, the ones dead killed by Mom and Poppa. The ones here in the Inbetween. I never had been hearing voices, I was, alas, different, but only from the liars of the world. The ones who claimed of things, and here in the Inbetween, we can choose what form we want to take in our second life. But you always have to start off as a human, so I was a new soul. The lot of the world has tricked themselves and ended their lives. Their souls lurk on Earth, roaming around looking for a cause.

            Only the Different, the special, go to the Inbetween.

            Ever since I was little, I’d known that I was different. But I had never known that being different was my best feature. Suicide, for me, was the best option.

Reborn

            They had every fact wrong, the human scientists. Every animal that they thought they knew about, they had very wrong interpretations for. I chose to be a deep sea jellyfish. It’s peaceful here, the only threats are what try to take a bite out of me, whom get stung. The malignance of humanity is gone, the sweet scent of rebellion stays strong, and every inch of my boneless body is simply perfect. The traffic of the streets has become a murmur of fins, as the blaring horns from cars has become a distant memory.

            Once I was reborn, the Different soul, everything made sense. I remember sun bathing on the sand as a human, but I never knew the wonders of what lurked underwater because I was afraid of the sharks. Some people, humans, said that mermaids existed, some said they existed but they were scary, and others believed they were beautiful creatures underwater. The truth is, they vary. Some of them are scary, some tiny, some big and gorgeous, but not one the same as another. We are all from the Inbetween, we are all Different. This fact is one we embrace.

            As one life ends, another one begins, but one life is the equivalent to fourteen deaths for humans. The phoenix is a beautiful example for explaining life, one dies and its ashes become the next bird. My next life, I want to be a dragon. A creature hidden from Earth due to the Inbetween keeping its endangered species safe. The dragon is the protector of Earth, but the humans were the hunters and huntresses of it. Give up, dear earthlings, give up on being the perfect being, it’s not worth it when you can’t get anywhere afterwards.

 

            With the so-called God, you only were given two lives. One in the hell pit of humanity, and another in heaven or hell. Honestly, I would have rather gone to hell. Way less rules there. Tortured for eternity? Another reason God had a strange sense of humor. I hope you all see it now, I’m your new worst nightmare. 

 

May 4th, 1914

I had a drop of salty water fall at the corner of my mouth as I came across a yellow envelope in the pile of mail I grasped tightly. The big headline informed me that I would be among the 4,000,000 men to serve in the world war. It read that I was supposed to report to duty by the 15th of June. I fell to my feet as I stared coldly at the ceiling.

 

May 6th, 1914

The letter lie lifeless in the bottom of the trash can as if it had never existed. I hadn't dare tell anyone about it. I knew what I had to do, seems how my life is now ruined I owe it to my family not to ruin theirs as well. I turned into an actor pretending as if nothing was wrong and I'd never have to leave. I didn't tell my wife about the letter, hoping she wouldn't find it where I left it hidden under the piles of trash.

 

May 15th, 1914

I've been dreading leaving my family. My wife and my daughter of only 5 years. I became the guy I wanted them to remember. I made them laugh more now than I had before. I tucked Lucy into bed every night now, never skipping a bedtime story. Every second could be one of the last I would have to spend with her. I made sure my wife knew how much I loved her and reminded her everyday. I was running out of time with them, the clock was ticking.

 

May 20th, 1914

I'm writing this letter because I can't sleep. My headaches won't stop and my wife keeps asking me if something's wrong. I tell her no but she can tell I'm lying, I can tell by the way her eyes look straight into mine as if to go deeper within my soul to find truth. As if that's not killing me enough the monsters inside of my head are going to eat me alive.

 

May 25th, 1914

It's Lucy's sixth birthday and my wife and I are surprising her with a party. She looks taller to me each day. For her birthday I decided to get he something special. I brought her home a puppy. As soon as she saw the puppy she left her friends running to greet him. She said, "his name shall be Paws." That night she came over to me with the biggest grin I swear she's ever worn and gave me a bear hug. "Thank you," she said.

 

June 5th, 1914

I'm beginning to pack my belongings to start my journey to Europe in a couple of days. I took a photo of my wife and Lucy off the fireplace mantle and shoved it deep inside my suitcase pocket so that I could remember them forever and always. Who knew how long I would have to participate in this war, it wasn't something that I signed up for.

 

June 10th, 1914

What was I supposed to tell them? I couldn't tell them I was going to war. I would tell them I was going on a business trip to discover a newly invented fertilizer, no that's an obvious lie. I'd tell them I had to visit my grandma who lived in Europe for a while because she was very sick and they didn't know how much longer she would survive. 

 

June 12th, 1914

I told them the news and they wished me luck and asked if they might come along. I told them it was too personal. They asked that I be careful and return safely. I have never been away from home for more than two weeks to say the least.

 

June 13th, 1914

I took a plane to Europe, it was deathly silent. Young men, old men staring at the floor. At one stop men were lined up to get on the plane, as we waited for them some of them leaned out of the window to air kiss their wife's farewell. At that moment in time I regretted lying to my wife but, I knew I did it for her own good. I didn't want her worrying about me.

 

June 14th, 1914

I arrived among the rest of the troops on the border of Europe. The leader/general leading my group of 1000 men spoke loud and clearly, "my name is General John J. Grey, I will be training you throughout the time period of the war until we are needed." He then without speaking walked to a truck. He grabbed a hand gun and showed each of us how it worked. Then he pulled out a larger box of them and handed each one of us our own. We ran 3 miles everyday, had target practices and climbed ropes to strengthen our muscles.

 

June 14th, 1916

I've now been on these grounds for 2 years waiting to fight for my country (the U.S.). Nothing has changed much. We wake up, eat, train, eat, train again, and go to sleep. We sit here waiting, this is the most boring my life has ever been and I don't understand why they won't let us leave. If nothing's happened yet it's most likely not going to happen. It's been a full 2 years.

 

December 25th, 1916

It's Christmas, but barely anyone here dares to mention it because the pain of not being able to be home by the fireplace with our families is too strong. I feel depressed like I'm in a black hole trying to dig myself out but I just fall deeper, I'm stuck.

 

January 8th, 1916

It's a new year. Doesn't quite feel new to me but it is. I can't continue to write, I have nothing to say for now.

 

March 28th, 1917

The day my life really ended, they had sucked even the last bits of life and hope out of me. I would have had a death wish despite my family. This is the day we entered the war. We declared war on the German empire. Over the last two months an influenza has spread. 

 

May 10th, 1917

I've killed 5 men.

 

July 15th, 1917

They can't feed all of us, some are starving to death.

 

August 20th, 1917

I've been shot in the leg. I'm dead on the inside but I'm still alive that's all I prayed for. I have got my leg taken care of at the hospital, and it will be a few days till I go back to fight in the war.

 

 September 14th, 1917

I wrote a letter to my family,

 Dear loving family, 

I hope to be back as soon as possible, I am doing just fine grandma on the other hand is not too well. I miss you much.

P.S. Never forget about me, Liam

 

September 20th, 1917

I'm back fighting, I pray every night that the war will end soon. It seems that it's getting quieter and settling down.

 

November 11th, 1918

The news came. Life restored my bruised, weak body. Victory had been achieved. I knew what this meant. Tears streamed down my face, I got to go home!

 

December 1st, 1918

I took the first train leaving the station to return home. Fire from excitement warmed the hole in my heart. I couldn't wait to see how much my daughter had grown.

 

December 2nd, 1917

I arrived home, but as a knocked on the door a man answered the door not my wife. I threw myself to the ground. I looked up to see my wife peering out around the door. She forgot about me. She cheated. I couldn't pull myself together, yet again the fire in my heart was put out and the hole reappeared. Some called me lucky because I survived the war but I can't help thinking now that it'd be less painful if I didn't. 

 

December 30th, 1917

I was walking downtown as I saw the most beautiful women walk past me, she had on a long blue dress, red lipstick, and eyes like the ocean. I got lost staring into them and my coffee fell at my feet along with my books. The women looked at me as she smirked and crouched down to help me. I laughed as she asked "how'd you stumble?" I said, "I got lost in your eyes, they took me to another world. A better one, one full of life like I've never imagined before." She smiled at me and we went our separate ways. I turned around and yelled, "wait miss I didn't catch your name." She smiled and said don't worry I'll see you again, we were meant to be, fate can't keep us separated we're bound to see each other soon.

 

December 31st, 1917

I went back to my old house where my wife started a new family without me. We worked out a schedule with Lucy and got a divorce. Lucy had grown at least a foot since I had last seen her. 

 

January 10th, 1918

I figured I would need to get a new job to pay for my apartment. I applied at a restaurant down the street. Then I talked with the manager who seemed to like me, a very serious man so I couldn't actually tell. The only reassurance I had was the tone of his voice.

 

January 23rd, 1918

I got the job as a waiter, the restaurant name was Big Bill's. It was a burger and pasta place. One day as I was wiping down a table I looked up and saw the ocean. Blond hair, bright red lips,  and a black dress. It was fate. She works here as a waitress. I slowly walked over to her my eyes never leaving hers. She smiled and said, "fate, am I right?"  I asked her, "what's your name?" She said, "tell me first." "My names Liam," I said. In return she said, "Scarlett".

 

March 8th, 1919

I proposed at a flower garden full of  luscious roses and scents too, I had found it deep in the woods when I was just 8 years old. Scarlett was the key that unlocked my the bitterness of my past. She said yes. We set our marriage date to August 15th on the beach of Florida.

 

August 16th, 1919

I know that it's been a while since I've written but, I am now a happily married on and I have moved on with my life and thrown the past out the window. My heart is not only now on fire but it can never be put out. The life that was once sucked out of me is now back but there's twice as much. I am so thankful to wake up to the ocean every morning.

 

 

 

 

            They called themselves H&C. The only people who knew what H&C stood for were H&C themselves—that is, Bob Hayes and Steve Clinton. Not even those who worked for H&C knew what it stood for.

 

            People outside of H&C often attempted to guess what the initials stood for. Members of the organization were encouraged to drop hints to outsiders as to what H&C meant, which usually ended with some astronomically wrong answer to the proposed question, such as “Heists and Criminal activity” or “Henchmen and Commanders.” Hayes and Clinton rewarded those who spread these comedic rumors with large amounts of money—mere dents in the infinite pockets of these leaders.

 

            They were a criminal organization; in fact, they were the best criminal organization in New York City at the time. Hayes and Clinton were two criminal geniuses, and they devised a system of signals and notes that could be sent to their “employees” at any given time. Throughout the years they had perfected this system, and it involved many things: a member who owned a coffee shop would sell certain things that meant different things. Once the member who was a policeman—and there were many secret admirers of H&C within groups of policemen—noticed, he would wear a watch different than his usual one, which a member who was a rather elderly man would watch for. This man would then place a pot of geraniums outside of his house for another member to watch for, and so on. In this way, H&C was able to rob many of the best museums for jewels, art, and antiques. They never bothered with “petty” robberies—when they robbed a building, it was done at the most difficult times, and with great pains. The men particularly loved stealing precious gemstones right out from beneath the museum curators’ noses, which led to great bewilderment and hatred toward H&C in the artistic world. They had never been unsuccessful, and both Hayes and Clinton lived in great wealth and elegance.

 

            Hayes was the actual head of the operation. He was just over six feet tall and grotesquely thin. His features were sharp and his nose long and hooked. A pair of rectangular glasses that settled upon the tip of his nose provided him with the sight that he required. He had a thinning amount of gray hair atop his head, which he daily parted on the left side and combed into perfect position. He had twenty suits, each of them black, which he rotated through, and ten pairs of shiny black shoes, which he rotated through as well. He was a journalist and reporter, and wrote a weekly column for The New York Times newspaper, which talked about criminal activity in the area and touched on the topic of the infamous H&C—a rather ironic situation, for he had insight into the group that none of the other reporters could boast.

 

            Hayes’ column was in fact an inconvenience to those that ran the very places that H&C stole from. The owners of these museums and such never wanted the public to find out about the robberies and thefts. If a diamond or jewel was stolen, most would have simply preferred to have an exact replica of it made and keep the public ignorant. But telling the public of these ordeals was exactly how Hayes was made successful and wealthy. Since he was such an influential member of the community, the owners kept silent of their inner annoyances. They always knew it was H&C who ruined their status because a paper was always placed in the exact spot that the stolen item was taken from, and on it, written in a thick, elegant, hand, it was always said the same thing:

 

            There will be no charge for the removal of this item.

 

                        ~H&C

 

            Of course, these words fueled much hatred for the group, but since no one could catch them, nothing could be done about it.

 

            Clinton was exactly the opposite. He stood at five feet eight inches in his patent leather shoes, had a potbelly and a double chin, and had the sort of deep, booming voice that commanded attention. He was a lawyer—and a very good one—and was the C in Clinton & Ferguson, the prestigious law firm. He chose to defend criminals—again, rather ironic—and always won. He had a way with the jury and judges and knew how to plant the right information into their minds. He liked to wear expensive Italian suits—preferably purple, although red and black were fine as well—and had a walking stick that was encrusted with diamonds. His hair was thick and dark, and he wore it tucked underneath of a top hat; he thought that the hat would create the illusion of height. He had a very distinctive smell—that of tobacco smoke and mint. The former was from the fat cigars that he was very often chewing on between yellowed teeth, the latter from the small glass jar of mints that sat on his desk. He was known for his descriptive and eloquent tales of his childhood. Most of the things that he told his captive audience weren’t true; he preferred to make up details that added to the uniqueness of his stories.

 

            At one point, Steve Clinton had a rather enchanted audience as he told of his youth in the country. With pride, he began to tell the story of his battle with a bear—a definite crowd-pleaser, and one that he told often. As he laid down the setting and background, he could feel his audience settling in for the ride.

 

            The story began with a young Steve tending to his family’s livestock in the rural country. The sky began to darken with the night, and Steve hurriedly gathered his animals to take back to the farm. It was a good ten minute walk in the dark back to the safe haven of his home.

 

            Clinton could feel the tension and anticipation of his audience, waiting for the moment the bear would appear.

 

            “We were halfway home, when the bear appeared. It came up right in front of us, and one of the sheep bleated in terror! I couldn’t do anything but fight—it was dark already, and I had to do something.” He leaned in closer to his audience; so close that they could see his nostrils flaring and the sweat running down his doughy cheeks. “I raised my fists and struck the creature, and it roared at me.”

 

            At this, Clinton raised his voice and imitated the creatures call, causing one of the women in the audience to titter softly, “Oh, my, that’s frightening!”

 

            Clinton lowered his voice for the climax and the audience leaned in, even closer. “It struck me with its paw, breaking my arm. I had only one arm with which to defend myself. Glancing around, my eyes landed on a stick, about ten yards away through the trees. I made a break for it, the bear right behind me.” He paused and stood. His audience stared in fierce captivation, waiting for him to continue.

 

            Clinton quickly decided to end the story, instead of prolonging it even more. Of course, he had never met this bear, but his audience loved stories of beasts and adventure.

 

            Clearing his throat, he continued. “I reached the branch and grabbed it. Spinning around, I hit the beast on its head! It reared and roared at me, but I hit it again and again. Finally, falling to its haunches, it crashed through the undergrowth and disappeared.” Steve looked at the faces of his audience. “I never did see that bear again.”

 

            With a sense of satisfaction, he watched the members of his audience slowly disperse across the room. It was this same sense of satisfaction and pleasure that motivated Clinton to head the most prestigious criminal group in New York. Steve loved the thrill that he got from tricking one of the best cities in the United States—and having no one suspect him of doing it.

 

            Bob Hayes led the group for an entirely different reason: he loved the complex puzzle of getting past security measures and law enforcers. To him, all it took was a bit of logic and some elbow grease and anyone could accomplish anything. After all, here he was, successful and well-liked, but also leading a group of misfits and criminals in his spare time.

 

            For twenty years, these two interesting characters led a rather exclusive criminal organization, entitled H&C, and during those twenty years they committed some of the most ingenious crimes that New York had ever seen. But then: the organization fell apart. It started slowly, then grew in catastrophic speed, then collapsed entirely, leaving nothing but Bob Hayes and Steve Clinton perched precariously atop a pile of lies and broken laws.

 

            It started in the fall. A note was found on Hayes’ desk at the newspaper headquarters, which said simply this: Meet me at Morgan Park at noon. Being a rather intelligent man, and one of great skepticism from his years of criminal activity, he went to his secretary, a young woman by the name of Ella, and asked her if she knew who had left the note on his desk.

 

            “I can’t say,” she told him. “Mr. Walker went into your office last night after you left. I don’t know if he left a note or not.”

 

            Mr. Walker was the editor of The New York Times, and he was a large, strong man with an obvious past of athletic achievement. He was hard on his employees, yet preferred them to be content. When he told an employee to do something, he or she did it.

 

            “Yes, I left the note for you,” Mr. Walker said. “I’ll expect to see you there.”

 

            Bob Hayes arrived at Morgan Park at five minutes to noon. He parked his car—a small, outdated Ford—and left the gravel parking lot. He walked through the woods, pausing to admire the trees’ colorful leaves, and then through the graveyard. A cold wind blew across the gravestones, and he shivered and pulled the collar of his black suit coat up.

 

            He waited at the picnic tables for half an hour, but Mr. Walker never arrived. Irritated and disgusted, he left.

 

            When he arrived back at the newspaper headquarters, his confidential file marked “hobby” was gone.

 

            He didn’t notice.

 

            Mr. Walker was not at the newspaper headquarters when he got back, and he asked Ella where the editor had gone.

 

            “He had some business to attend to, but he didn’t specify what it was,” Ella said.

 

            Hayes didn’t go to work the next couple of days, preferring to stay at home and tend to his rising temper.

 

            Two days later, Steve Clinton received a letter in the mail that went as follows:

 

            To Mr. Steve Clinton;

 

                        Mr. and Mrs. James Albert cordially invite you to the wedding of their daughter, Elizabeth Marie Albert, to Bennett Ashton, on Wednesday, the twenty-fifth of September. The ceremony will take place at one o’clock, with reception to follow, at Morgan Park, 23 Williams Lane, New York, New York.

 

            Clinton did not remember a Mr. and Mrs. James Albert, but this occasionally happened to him, and being a man of extreme confidence and taking pride in his social achievements, he accepted the invitation and went, on September twenty-fifth, to Morgan Park.

 

            Bob Hayes had received a similar letter, and he too decided to attend the wedding. They slightly acknowledged each other, but if anyone saw them, they wouldn’t assume their relationship to be anything more than a slight acquaintance, if that.

 

            At first the ceremony seemed to be typical, but halfway through Hayes noticed a slip of paper on the ground next to his foot. Glancing one way, and then the other, and seeing no one of suspicion, he picked it up.

 

            We found you.

 

            Thus began the end of H&C.