AN EARLY CHAPTER! A LONG CHAPTER! HOW ABOUT BOTH?
YYYYYYYYYYYyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
******THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES SOME UNDERAGE DRINKING- READER'S DISCRETION IS ADVISED.
sorry about this, but we sorta got stuck about ideas, and had to have something bad and completely stupid happen. I hope no one is uncomfortable with that, because, if you are we could change it around :)
Y'now, as scary as it is, this stuff happens in real life. Alot. The two of us had no better ideas, and, they're 17 for goodness sakes. 17 year old mean people who think they're so cool almost always leads to underage drinking/substance abuse.
terrifying thought...
Okay, now that you've read my life lesson, on with zee chapter!
The door opens to Papa and Ty.
"Yes, the cellar's over here. Don't worry about lights. We have quite a few" I turn my head to see Tyler with his duffel and a grocery bag full of snacks.
"Hi" I state, trying to be nicer than I thought he deserved. I toss the rest of our supplies into the three of us climb down into the dank hole before a large crack lights up the sky. "She's here" I whisper, laying out water bottles and flashlights.
My backpack lays in the corner, its contents including my sketchbook, the cookies I could save from my incident earlier, and a blanket. Tyler sits himself down on the stack of foamie matresses, and starts to play video games on his cell phone. Rain starts to ricochet off the metal roof like bullets. I plop down next to my father, and lay my ear to his chest. The sound of his beating heart always calms my nerves.
"I'm worried about Leon...I should go see if he's okay. If we don't come back, we have found shelter somewhere else. Okay?" Papa readies a pack of his own and kisses my forehead. "Bye" He leaves the two of us alone with the raging storm above.
I curl up in as many fleeces as I can find and lay out Grandpappy's sketchbook before me. "Okay, Birdie" I reassure myself, and start to form a deeply shaded eye. "You can do it" It takes me ten tries to perfect the brow, and even though it frustrates me, I continue drawing. Minutes later, I jolt up to find Ty crunching up beside me.
"Why are you talking to yourself, Kessy? Are you some sort of alien?" He laughs. I snarl at him.
"It's true. By the way, what's your drawing of?" I peer down at my opened page, and see my work.
"Well... There's the start of a face, but with a giant black line across its nose. I wonder how that happened?" I pout.
"I think it looks better like that" I punch his arm. "Okay, chill, I'm sorry" He takes the rubber eraser from beside me and positions it onto the paper. "See? All better." He tears a blanket off of my cocoon and wraps it around himself, pulling out his phone once more. Ty swears quietly about how he doesn't have any service, so I look at him inquisitevely and lay down my stick of charcoal.
"What do you think? We're in a cellar after all" I focus back to my drawing, and begin to
erase the scribble carefully. Wind blasts against the shed and a cold gust reaches us slightly in our small hiding spot. Tyler shivers beside me, and pulls the blanket closer. Storms had never been a problem for me, but as the boy sitting next to me begins to turn pale, I realize that they may be a little scary.
"Something wrong?" I ask nicely, shutting my sketchbook and looking up at him. His blue eyes glisten in the dim light, and I can tell that he's upset.
"You'll probably think I'm a wuss"
"I already do, so it won't change my opinion of you" I say, earning a bop on the head.
"I've never been in a hurricane. What if Grandpa's house gets destroyed? Where will I live?" I peel off another layer of blankets and tuck them around him.
"There's no need to worry. My house has lived through many storms, and it's still standing. So am I. As long as you keep a positive attitude everything'll be fine" I ball up a sleeping bag for a pillow and lay down next to Ty. Every few seconds, a crack of lightning lights up the sky and wind beats against the aluminum exterior of the shed. "It's all fine" I mumble before drifting off fitfully.
Trees envelop me, their leaves rippling in the wind. Each direction I look there is only the rustling foliage. Nothing else.
Suddenly, a feeling overcomes me, a feeling of loss. I zig-zag through the forest, dodging stumps and twigs. After what seems like hours of running, I am nowhere nearer my destination. Voices whisper in the wind, putting me down.
"You're so weird" Says Claire's whispy voice. "And ugly" Whisps of inky coloured smoke emit from the tree's branches and soak into my hair, leaving it black as a raven.
"NO!" I shake my head, sending splatters of ink all over. I run away from the demon. At one point, I reach a meadow, once colourful with its flowers, but now ruined by dark splotches of ink. A whirlwind lives above it, enveloping everything that is around it.
"Papa" I cry. 'Don't leave me!" He twists towards the center of the storm, debris flying around him limp body. "Papa!" I scream, throat raw. My knees are muddy, and hands curled into fists as I Iower myself to the ground and curl up into a fetal position.
"Kes-Birdie?" My eyes fly open and I sit up, looking around for the voice. Tyler turns on a flashlight, and shines it right into my face. "I can't sleep because of your yelling. Stop it, will you?"
"Papa" I whine, pulling my layers of fleeces closer into my body and rubbing my eyes.
"They aren't here yet. Just fall back asleep" He sighs, laying back down on the mattress, and closes his eyes.
"I can't" I reply. "Want to play a game? It always calmed me down during storms when I was little." Noticing Ty's ragged breathing, I pass him another blanket and scooch closer.
"Sure" He flinches with my closeness, but doesn't move away.
"Okay, so you count how many seconds there are between the lightning and thunder"
"Sounds boring, but sure" He groans. A large crack sounds and the two of us wait until lightning brightens the sky.
"That one's a seven" I state.
"Six"
"Five" We repeat this for a bit, not interacting otherwise.
"Two. it's getting closer" My muscles tense.
"One" Tyler shifts, burrowing further into the warmth of his blankets. It is barely milliseconds later when lightning and thunder combine, creating a powerful blast that rocks the earth we lay on.
"Zero" I gasp, rolling over onto his outstretched arm.
"Go away" I snap out of it, and look over to Ty. "Get off my arm, Kessie" I pout at the nickname as the boy glides away.
"Stupid" I huff, hiding my face.
"Weirdo" I lay back onto my makeshift pillow and try to calm down, but right afterwards, harsh winds begin to thrash against the creaky shed, causing it to moan. A crash in the distance makes the two of us jump.
"What's that?"
"I think a building got hit" I shudder, remembering when the same thing happened a few years back.
I curled up into Papa's arms. He had been so reserved the past few weeks, and when my father beckoned for me to share my warmth with him, I accepted gladly. Suddenly, a giant bang fills the air.
"It's okay" My big brother, Izzy, came in closer and began to stroke my long, wavy hair.
This is when I begin to think about Mommy. She had left the day Papa started to get sad. I didn't understand. If she had been there at that very moment, our family would have been much more... whole.
I still didn't know her reasons for leaving, or why she didn't tell us first. I sighed, and wiped a tear from my eye.
Yes, I did miss her. I realized that moment how much I needed my Mommy, but she was never going to come back. Ever.
The next five hours are spent trying to sleep, but neither of us is willing to give in to nightmares of being sucked up by the hurricane. I keep playing the game in my head until whipping wind turns to hail and hail fades into the lulling pitter-patter of rain. I roll over, and am surprised by Tyler looking straight into my eyes.
"Is it over?" He's staring at me, sandy blonde hair sticking to his face with sweat.
"Hopefully" I sigh, scratching my head. Footsteps above our heads interrupt the conversation and Ty tenses up again.
"There's someone coming"
"It's probably just Papa and your grandpa"
"Stupid Kessy, I know that" He rolls his bloodshot eyes as our relatives climb down the stairs. I turn the other way and pretend to sleep. My father lays down next to me and starts to untangle my hair with his fingers.
"I'm back, sweetheart" He whispers in my ear, and takes off his windbreaker. I get a glimpse of the face of his watch in the process, noticing that Tyler and I had spent the whole night in the cellar. Papa snuggles up next to me and continues to play with my wavy locks.
Leon groans as he sits down on the hard ground.
"That was some storm!" he chuckles, shaking water droplets from his tangled hair. "But it's mostly over now."
With Papa's warm arms around me, it's easy to drift off and when I wake up, I am alone in the cellar. I drag my few belongings up the stairs and carry them back home. Fallen trees dart the path to my house and sand blown from the beach clings to the leaves and rocks. A paper flutters from underneath a branch and I bend down and slide it out from where it is trapped. A turn over the ripped page in my hand, the glossy pictures evidently torn from a magazine.
"My treehouse..." I murmur to myself, spin around to face the direction in which it stood for years.I decide that I'm really not in the mood to see the shelter where I hid in for my entire childhood destroyed and keep trudging over the sticks and trees thrown across the trail.
The first thing I notice when I get home is that my house is still standing. Barely standing, but not completely wrecked. The relief quickly disappears though as I realize that a heavy tree has snapped and crashed onto the roof, leaving a massive dent and making the building look ready to cave in on itself. Papa stands away from the home, his hand shielding his eyes as he inspects the damage.
"How's it look?" I question and he drops his arm to his side.
"Not so good." He sees the alarm on my face and quickly adds, "I mean, I should be able to fix it in about a week, but I don't think that it's safe to stay in for the time being."
"Oh." I place my stuff down on the only visible patch of ground that isn't strewn with debris and pull my father into a hug. The hurricane must have been worse than I suspected and I feel hot tears sting the corners of my eyes at the thought of all the damage done to the all the buildings in town.
"Hey, hey, don't be upset, little bird!" Pa pulls away and tilts my chin to look me in the face. "We'll just have to stay somewhere else for a little bit!"
I nod and dab at my watery eyes with Papa's shirt sleeve. We stare at the broken house for a second before my father smiles and informs me that he's going to go to the marina and call to see where we're going to stay.
Once alone, I sit down on a tree stump and pull out my sketchbook. I try to draw my house when it was still beautiful, but it looks unfamiliar, like a stranger's house. I add a couple holes in the roof and some cracked windows, but it still isn't home. I crumple up the page and tuck it into my backpack, then pace back and forth to stretch my legs.
I peer up at the house, trying to remember my room. It's hard to forget; pale blue paint chipping from the walls, the bed with the bumpy mattress and faded gold bars as a headboard. The window is smeared with dirt and dead bugs squished against the glass and then there's my wooden dresser with the broken handles on the drawers. It's a very tiny bedroom, if I stand in the middle of the room I can spread my arms and touch the walls in every direction with ease, but at the same time it doesn't need to be big. It's a place where I've always been comfortable.
I climb up the front steps and stand in front of the front door. Without even thinking, I push open the door and step into the building. Water drips from the ceiling and forms puddles on the hardwood floor and the pictures hanging on the walls were crooked or lying smashed on the ground. The entire house groans as I walk through the living room and to my room. The soggy bedspread is tangled on the floor and I scoop it up and throw it back on the bed. I pull the wet drawing of Grandpappy from the wall and fold into a little square. I tuck it into my pocket as the house structure trembles.
"Whoa!" I grab onto the door frame as the roof makes a terrible cracking noise. I hear a cabinet crash to the counter in the kitchen and I slip on the slippery floor.
"Birdie?" a voice calls from outside. "Birdie, where are you?"
I crawl down the hallway, soaking my knees and scraping my hands on the broken glass on the way to the exit. I throw the door open and step right into the puddle on the other side. I fly down the many steps and land on the hard ground with tears streaming down my dirty cheeks.
"Birdie!" Leon grabs my arm and helps me to my feet. "Birdie are you alright?"
"Yeah." I swallow and wipe at the tears, smearing mud across my face.
"You shouldn't have gone in there." Mr.Koppinger shakes his head. "It's dangerous."
"Very dangerous." I turn to see Ty seated on a stump, waving a scolding finger at me.
"I know." I scowl and grab my grandfather's sketchbook from the ground and tuck it back into my bag. "What are you guys even doing here?"
"We came to get you." Leon smiles, picking up my backpack and slinging it over his shoulder.
"What?" I ask, confused.
Ty grimaces and drags me by the shirt to the idling car.
"Come on, Kessy." he spits, opening the door and pushing my back so I get in. "You get to stay with us."
* * * * *
I lug my bag into Leon's home, and drop it beside the green couch. Papa is already unpacking his things at another chesterfield. There is barely anything in my backpack; only the things I had been able to salvage from my house were a few day's worth of clothing from the laundry hamper full of dirty clothes overflowing in the hallway and a toothbrush.
I cautiously sniff one of the t-shirts thrown into my bag and cringe.
"Whatever, it will have to do."
"Stop doing that, Kessy."
I turn to face Ty, his arms crossed over his chest.
"Stop doing what?" I fold up the shirt and put it back in my bag.
"Talking to yourself." Tyler grumbles, walking across the room to look at a photo framed on the wall. "It's creepy."
"Well, sorry." I stick out my tongue and he chuckles.
"That's not an attractive look for you, Birdie." He points at my pout.
"Tyler..." Leon warns from the kitchen.
Ty frowns and leaves the room, closing his bedroom door roughly behind him.
Pa flops down on the sofa, testing it out.
"Not bad." he says and I lie down on mine as well.
Mr.Koppinger enters and plops a tray of snacks down on the coffee table.
"Well, if you guys are finished getting settled in, I'm going to go tend to my garden." He grabs a pair of gardening gloves from a shelf covered in miniature trains. "That storm tore it up pretty badly."
My father gets up and stretches. "Yeah, I should go finish fixing up at the marina."
"Do you need any help, Papa?" I stand up and smooth out my shirt. Papa shakes his head.
"No thanks, Birdie. You stay here with Ty. Hey, don't make that face!" I quit wrinkling my nose in disgust as Pa grabs a sweater from his own bag and pulls it over his head. He kisses me on the cheek and then I am alone, not a sound in the house but many clocks ticking simultaneously.
I sigh and sit down on the bright couch, pulling a book from the resting on the carpet beside the chesterfield. I open the album on my lap, each page filled with joyful pictures of a family. One in particular makes me take a second glance.
"Who is that?" I ask, staring at the picture of a young woman holding onto a bouncing baby, Mr.Koppinger resting a strong hand on her shoulder.
"That's my mom."
I jump when I look up to Tyler seated on the sofa beside me, peering over at the photos covering the sheets.
"Oh." I look back at the picture, then back at Ty. "That doesn't look like you."
Tyler scowls. "Well, maybe it's because it's not me."
"Oh." I repeat, studying the yellowed photo once more. "Who is it then?"
"No one." he snaps, grabbing the scrapbook from me and slamming it closed. "I don't want to talk about it." He shoves the book onto a shelf in the bookcase and then sits back down on the couch next to me, glaring down at the coffee table.
Part of me wants to ask more about his mother and the boy in the picture, but I know better. Years of being asked about my mother has taught me when it's a good time to stop asking questions.
"Kestrel, where's your mommy?" the girl looks up from my family portrait I had so proudly drawn."I think that you forgot to draw her."
"No, I didn't." I reply. "I don't have a mother."
"Oh. That's sad." she says softly, peering pitifully at me.
I shrug and continue drawing a flower. The petals weren't right. I scribbled over the picture and restarted.
"Is your mom dead?" the girl whispers, wide eyed.
"No." I answer, the start of a cat forming on my page.
"Then where is she?"
"She's..." I hesitate, putting down my marker and looking at the curious girl. "She's in America."
"But she's still you mom, even if she's not around!" the child insists, pointing at the painting of my small family hanging to dry. "You have to draw her, the teacher said we had to draw all of our family!"
"She's not my family." I mutter, getting up from my desk and ripping the picture down from the little clothesline. Dozens of pairs of young eyes watched me as I tore it into tiny pieces and left it in a pile on the classroom floor. "She's not my mother and she never will be."
"Birdie, you're doing it again."
"Hm?" I blink, Tyler waving his hand in front of my face.
"You're talking to yourself again." he informs me, staring intensely into my eyes like he's trying to find out what's wrong with me.
"Oh, sorry." I shake the scary memory from my head and exhale.
Tyler rolls his eyes.
"Oh, Birdie," he laughs, scratching his ear. "Why are you so weir-" He stops and pretends to cough instead of finishing his sentence.
"Different." He corrects, once finished his wheezing into his elbow. "You're different, Kessy, definitely different."
I can't help but smile at his attempt to be nice to me.
That evening, I am approached by Leon.
"I hope he didn't cause too much trouble this afternoon" He sits down next to me on the couch and fluffs my pillow slightly. "Tyler, I mean"
"Actually, He's made some progress" I inform, gathering my hair into a ponytail.
"That's good to hear" he ruffles my hair and walks to the kitchen. The smell of spices cuts through the air when he starts to season our meal, mushrooms and chicken that are sizzling in a pan.
Papa walks out of the bathroom, tugging on the string of his pyjama pants, and motions for me to enter.
"It's all yours" He grabs a towel from the leaning tower that is placed by the bathroom door. I grab my bag and walk in. The interior is painted blue like a sky, dotted with little seagulls and clouds. I drop my stuff behind the door and fiddle with the shower tap, trying to get the head to turn on. When it finally begins to spit out cold water, I brave the chill and dive in, willing to wash off the events of the past few days.
* * * * *
After I step out of the shower, I consult my shabby appearance. There are freckles all over my face and shoulders, and there is a giant birthmark on my neck. I rub the brown splat as if it were a chunk of dirt. Quickly, I change into my nightclothes and run out to join my friends at the dinner table.
"Ah, Birdie, how nice of you to join us!" Leon calls from where he, Ty and Papa sit crowded at the counter. They eat from styrofoam bowls, shoveling the old man's concoction into their mouths.
I snag a bowl from the microwave and open up the drawer to get cutlery, but Leon stops me.
"Use a plastic fork, please, we need to get rid of them" I grin at his efforts to conserve space, and reach into the highest cabinet to get some utensils.
I pull up my chair to the counter and start stuffing my face with the surprisingly not-horrible chicken.
Ty stares at me in disgust.
"You eat like a pig." he says, exposing the half-chewed food in his mouth for all of us to see.
"Right, 'cause you have such great table manners." I retort, taking a swig from my glass of milk.
"Shut up,the two of you!" Papa laughs.
When I finish, the sky is already beginning to darken. Leon and Papa leave to tend to the debris on the beach. Ty and I are left alone once again.
I surf through the channels, stopping to view programs for minutes at a time. My eyes begin to feel groggy and my arms feel heavy. Soon my eyelids begin to droop and I am fast asleep.
I wake suddenly. I can hear my father's snores from the other couch. My heart skips a beat as the clocks begin to chime loudly. I count silently. After the clocks ding twelve times, I lie back down and close my eyes once more.
I sit up at the sound of a crash and look to the door.
"Ouch." the figure hisses, before getting up from the ground and opening the door. He slips outside and into the night.
"Ty." I call quietly. "Where are you going?"
There's no reply so I get up from the soft sofa and trudge to the door. I slide into my shoes and follow Tyler outside. The night air is cool enough to make me shiver as I dart across the yard and after the boy.
Ty walks through the forest, fully dressed, occasionally stumbling over a branch or root. Eventually, he slips through the open door of an old barn. The weakened structure sways in the wind, creaking as if it were about to collapse.
I kneel down next to the wide double-doors, trying to overhear why Ty has ventured into an abandoned barn. From the inside, I can hear a few faint voices, so I press my ear against the door frame and listen.
"Well hello there, weirdo" After about ten minutes of eavesdropping on the boring coversation going on inside, a voice hidden by the double-doors makes me jump. "I thought you would join us" Tyler's hand reaches outside and pulls me into the barn.
The time of night hides everyone's faces, but I can tell that they're the kids from around town, from their rude remarks towards me.
"Look who's here" Claire remarks, pointing a beer bottle towards me. Everyone laughs.
"You shouldn't be underage drinking" I pout, hugging my knees up to my chest and trying to keep my hands from shaking with nerves. These people, they've done so many horrible things to me. Why would they invite me to talk with them?
"Whatever. Want one?" A boy who has his arm wrapped around the girl calls. I shake my head, declining the offer.
"Okay. We'll spit it out. All of us have been discussing it, and have decided that we're sorry about what you had to go through" Claire shrugs. The rest of the room nods in agreement, and they all take another sip.
Would these people really want to be my friends? I ask myself, giddy and angry at the same time. The people who are gathered around me, they're bad people. What they did to me, and what they're doing to me, is unforgiveable. But, there's a small voice inside my head that makes me smile like a little girl.
Another boy tosses a drink at me. The second my reflexes kick in and I grab the bottle before it shatters on the ground, Papa groggily peeks his head through the door.
"Are you here, Birdie and Ty?" He looks up to see me holding a bottle of beer. "Kestrel, what are you holding?" His face reddens, and the middle-aged man storms into the stuffy barn. "ANSWER ME!"
"Mr. VanTaraden, it was all so scary! Ke-Birdie brought us here, and forced us to drink this alcohol- we're not even 19 yet!" A voice pipes from behind me, and I turn around in astonishment.
A/N EEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee we tried to write a cliff-hanger this time. it failed.
So, who's this mystery person that's blaming all these horrible things on Birdie? The poor girl!
Anyway, We're sorry about the lack of ideas. Although, if everything went our way, we'd already be done this story, made billions of dollars, bought times square and built a llama shaped gummy-bear store there. Just sayin'
So, I hope everyone's fine with the slight inappropriateness of this chapter... eep
~Fedora and What
YYYYYYYYYYYyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
******THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES SOME UNDERAGE DRINKING- READER'S DISCRETION IS ADVISED.
sorry about this, but we sorta got stuck about ideas, and had to have something bad and completely stupid happen. I hope no one is uncomfortable with that, because, if you are we could change it around :)
Y'now, as scary as it is, this stuff happens in real life. Alot. The two of us had no better ideas, and, they're 17 for goodness sakes. 17 year old mean people who think they're so cool almost always leads to underage drinking/substance abuse.
terrifying thought...
Okay, now that you've read my life lesson, on with zee chapter!
The door opens to Papa and Ty.
"Yes, the cellar's over here. Don't worry about lights. We have quite a few" I turn my head to see Tyler with his duffel and a grocery bag full of snacks.
"Hi" I state, trying to be nicer than I thought he deserved. I toss the rest of our supplies into the three of us climb down into the dank hole before a large crack lights up the sky. "She's here" I whisper, laying out water bottles and flashlights.
My backpack lays in the corner, its contents including my sketchbook, the cookies I could save from my incident earlier, and a blanket. Tyler sits himself down on the stack of foamie matresses, and starts to play video games on his cell phone. Rain starts to ricochet off the metal roof like bullets. I plop down next to my father, and lay my ear to his chest. The sound of his beating heart always calms my nerves.
"I'm worried about Leon...I should go see if he's okay. If we don't come back, we have found shelter somewhere else. Okay?" Papa readies a pack of his own and kisses my forehead. "Bye" He leaves the two of us alone with the raging storm above.
I curl up in as many fleeces as I can find and lay out Grandpappy's sketchbook before me. "Okay, Birdie" I reassure myself, and start to form a deeply shaded eye. "You can do it" It takes me ten tries to perfect the brow, and even though it frustrates me, I continue drawing. Minutes later, I jolt up to find Ty crunching up beside me.
"Why are you talking to yourself, Kessy? Are you some sort of alien?" He laughs. I snarl at him.
"It's true. By the way, what's your drawing of?" I peer down at my opened page, and see my work.
"Well... There's the start of a face, but with a giant black line across its nose. I wonder how that happened?" I pout.
"I think it looks better like that" I punch his arm. "Okay, chill, I'm sorry" He takes the rubber eraser from beside me and positions it onto the paper. "See? All better." He tears a blanket off of my cocoon and wraps it around himself, pulling out his phone once more. Ty swears quietly about how he doesn't have any service, so I look at him inquisitevely and lay down my stick of charcoal.
"What do you think? We're in a cellar after all" I focus back to my drawing, and begin to
erase the scribble carefully. Wind blasts against the shed and a cold gust reaches us slightly in our small hiding spot. Tyler shivers beside me, and pulls the blanket closer. Storms had never been a problem for me, but as the boy sitting next to me begins to turn pale, I realize that they may be a little scary.
"Something wrong?" I ask nicely, shutting my sketchbook and looking up at him. His blue eyes glisten in the dim light, and I can tell that he's upset.
"You'll probably think I'm a wuss"
"I already do, so it won't change my opinion of you" I say, earning a bop on the head.
"I've never been in a hurricane. What if Grandpa's house gets destroyed? Where will I live?" I peel off another layer of blankets and tuck them around him.
"There's no need to worry. My house has lived through many storms, and it's still standing. So am I. As long as you keep a positive attitude everything'll be fine" I ball up a sleeping bag for a pillow and lay down next to Ty. Every few seconds, a crack of lightning lights up the sky and wind beats against the aluminum exterior of the shed. "It's all fine" I mumble before drifting off fitfully.
Trees envelop me, their leaves rippling in the wind. Each direction I look there is only the rustling foliage. Nothing else.
Suddenly, a feeling overcomes me, a feeling of loss. I zig-zag through the forest, dodging stumps and twigs. After what seems like hours of running, I am nowhere nearer my destination. Voices whisper in the wind, putting me down.
"You're so weird" Says Claire's whispy voice. "And ugly" Whisps of inky coloured smoke emit from the tree's branches and soak into my hair, leaving it black as a raven.
"NO!" I shake my head, sending splatters of ink all over. I run away from the demon. At one point, I reach a meadow, once colourful with its flowers, but now ruined by dark splotches of ink. A whirlwind lives above it, enveloping everything that is around it.
"Papa" I cry. 'Don't leave me!" He twists towards the center of the storm, debris flying around him limp body. "Papa!" I scream, throat raw. My knees are muddy, and hands curled into fists as I Iower myself to the ground and curl up into a fetal position.
"Kes-Birdie?" My eyes fly open and I sit up, looking around for the voice. Tyler turns on a flashlight, and shines it right into my face. "I can't sleep because of your yelling. Stop it, will you?"
"Papa" I whine, pulling my layers of fleeces closer into my body and rubbing my eyes.
"They aren't here yet. Just fall back asleep" He sighs, laying back down on the mattress, and closes his eyes.
"I can't" I reply. "Want to play a game? It always calmed me down during storms when I was little." Noticing Ty's ragged breathing, I pass him another blanket and scooch closer.
"Sure" He flinches with my closeness, but doesn't move away.
"Okay, so you count how many seconds there are between the lightning and thunder"
"Sounds boring, but sure" He groans. A large crack sounds and the two of us wait until lightning brightens the sky.
"That one's a seven" I state.
"Six"
"Five" We repeat this for a bit, not interacting otherwise.
"Two. it's getting closer" My muscles tense.
"One" Tyler shifts, burrowing further into the warmth of his blankets. It is barely milliseconds later when lightning and thunder combine, creating a powerful blast that rocks the earth we lay on.
"Zero" I gasp, rolling over onto his outstretched arm.
"Go away" I snap out of it, and look over to Ty. "Get off my arm, Kessie" I pout at the nickname as the boy glides away.
"Stupid" I huff, hiding my face.
"Weirdo" I lay back onto my makeshift pillow and try to calm down, but right afterwards, harsh winds begin to thrash against the creaky shed, causing it to moan. A crash in the distance makes the two of us jump.
"What's that?"
"I think a building got hit" I shudder, remembering when the same thing happened a few years back.
I curled up into Papa's arms. He had been so reserved the past few weeks, and when my father beckoned for me to share my warmth with him, I accepted gladly. Suddenly, a giant bang fills the air.
"It's okay" My big brother, Izzy, came in closer and began to stroke my long, wavy hair.
This is when I begin to think about Mommy. She had left the day Papa started to get sad. I didn't understand. If she had been there at that very moment, our family would have been much more... whole.
I still didn't know her reasons for leaving, or why she didn't tell us first. I sighed, and wiped a tear from my eye.
Yes, I did miss her. I realized that moment how much I needed my Mommy, but she was never going to come back. Ever.
The next five hours are spent trying to sleep, but neither of us is willing to give in to nightmares of being sucked up by the hurricane. I keep playing the game in my head until whipping wind turns to hail and hail fades into the lulling pitter-patter of rain. I roll over, and am surprised by Tyler looking straight into my eyes.
"Is it over?" He's staring at me, sandy blonde hair sticking to his face with sweat.
"Hopefully" I sigh, scratching my head. Footsteps above our heads interrupt the conversation and Ty tenses up again.
"There's someone coming"
"It's probably just Papa and your grandpa"
"Stupid Kessy, I know that" He rolls his bloodshot eyes as our relatives climb down the stairs. I turn the other way and pretend to sleep. My father lays down next to me and starts to untangle my hair with his fingers.
"I'm back, sweetheart" He whispers in my ear, and takes off his windbreaker. I get a glimpse of the face of his watch in the process, noticing that Tyler and I had spent the whole night in the cellar. Papa snuggles up next to me and continues to play with my wavy locks.
Leon groans as he sits down on the hard ground.
"That was some storm!" he chuckles, shaking water droplets from his tangled hair. "But it's mostly over now."
With Papa's warm arms around me, it's easy to drift off and when I wake up, I am alone in the cellar. I drag my few belongings up the stairs and carry them back home. Fallen trees dart the path to my house and sand blown from the beach clings to the leaves and rocks. A paper flutters from underneath a branch and I bend down and slide it out from where it is trapped. A turn over the ripped page in my hand, the glossy pictures evidently torn from a magazine.
"My treehouse..." I murmur to myself, spin around to face the direction in which it stood for years.I decide that I'm really not in the mood to see the shelter where I hid in for my entire childhood destroyed and keep trudging over the sticks and trees thrown across the trail.
The first thing I notice when I get home is that my house is still standing. Barely standing, but not completely wrecked. The relief quickly disappears though as I realize that a heavy tree has snapped and crashed onto the roof, leaving a massive dent and making the building look ready to cave in on itself. Papa stands away from the home, his hand shielding his eyes as he inspects the damage.
"How's it look?" I question and he drops his arm to his side.
"Not so good." He sees the alarm on my face and quickly adds, "I mean, I should be able to fix it in about a week, but I don't think that it's safe to stay in for the time being."
"Oh." I place my stuff down on the only visible patch of ground that isn't strewn with debris and pull my father into a hug. The hurricane must have been worse than I suspected and I feel hot tears sting the corners of my eyes at the thought of all the damage done to the all the buildings in town.
"Hey, hey, don't be upset, little bird!" Pa pulls away and tilts my chin to look me in the face. "We'll just have to stay somewhere else for a little bit!"
I nod and dab at my watery eyes with Papa's shirt sleeve. We stare at the broken house for a second before my father smiles and informs me that he's going to go to the marina and call to see where we're going to stay.
Once alone, I sit down on a tree stump and pull out my sketchbook. I try to draw my house when it was still beautiful, but it looks unfamiliar, like a stranger's house. I add a couple holes in the roof and some cracked windows, but it still isn't home. I crumple up the page and tuck it into my backpack, then pace back and forth to stretch my legs.
I peer up at the house, trying to remember my room. It's hard to forget; pale blue paint chipping from the walls, the bed with the bumpy mattress and faded gold bars as a headboard. The window is smeared with dirt and dead bugs squished against the glass and then there's my wooden dresser with the broken handles on the drawers. It's a very tiny bedroom, if I stand in the middle of the room I can spread my arms and touch the walls in every direction with ease, but at the same time it doesn't need to be big. It's a place where I've always been comfortable.
I climb up the front steps and stand in front of the front door. Without even thinking, I push open the door and step into the building. Water drips from the ceiling and forms puddles on the hardwood floor and the pictures hanging on the walls were crooked or lying smashed on the ground. The entire house groans as I walk through the living room and to my room. The soggy bedspread is tangled on the floor and I scoop it up and throw it back on the bed. I pull the wet drawing of Grandpappy from the wall and fold into a little square. I tuck it into my pocket as the house structure trembles.
"Whoa!" I grab onto the door frame as the roof makes a terrible cracking noise. I hear a cabinet crash to the counter in the kitchen and I slip on the slippery floor.
"Birdie?" a voice calls from outside. "Birdie, where are you?"
I crawl down the hallway, soaking my knees and scraping my hands on the broken glass on the way to the exit. I throw the door open and step right into the puddle on the other side. I fly down the many steps and land on the hard ground with tears streaming down my dirty cheeks.
"Birdie!" Leon grabs my arm and helps me to my feet. "Birdie are you alright?"
"Yeah." I swallow and wipe at the tears, smearing mud across my face.
"You shouldn't have gone in there." Mr.Koppinger shakes his head. "It's dangerous."
"Very dangerous." I turn to see Ty seated on a stump, waving a scolding finger at me.
"I know." I scowl and grab my grandfather's sketchbook from the ground and tuck it back into my bag. "What are you guys even doing here?"
"We came to get you." Leon smiles, picking up my backpack and slinging it over his shoulder.
"What?" I ask, confused.
Ty grimaces and drags me by the shirt to the idling car.
"Come on, Kessy." he spits, opening the door and pushing my back so I get in. "You get to stay with us."
* * * * *
I lug my bag into Leon's home, and drop it beside the green couch. Papa is already unpacking his things at another chesterfield. There is barely anything in my backpack; only the things I had been able to salvage from my house were a few day's worth of clothing from the laundry hamper full of dirty clothes overflowing in the hallway and a toothbrush.
I cautiously sniff one of the t-shirts thrown into my bag and cringe.
"Whatever, it will have to do."
"Stop doing that, Kessy."
I turn to face Ty, his arms crossed over his chest.
"Stop doing what?" I fold up the shirt and put it back in my bag.
"Talking to yourself." Tyler grumbles, walking across the room to look at a photo framed on the wall. "It's creepy."
"Well, sorry." I stick out my tongue and he chuckles.
"That's not an attractive look for you, Birdie." He points at my pout.
"Tyler..." Leon warns from the kitchen.
Ty frowns and leaves the room, closing his bedroom door roughly behind him.
Pa flops down on the sofa, testing it out.
"Not bad." he says and I lie down on mine as well.
Mr.Koppinger enters and plops a tray of snacks down on the coffee table.
"Well, if you guys are finished getting settled in, I'm going to go tend to my garden." He grabs a pair of gardening gloves from a shelf covered in miniature trains. "That storm tore it up pretty badly."
My father gets up and stretches. "Yeah, I should go finish fixing up at the marina."
"Do you need any help, Papa?" I stand up and smooth out my shirt. Papa shakes his head.
"No thanks, Birdie. You stay here with Ty. Hey, don't make that face!" I quit wrinkling my nose in disgust as Pa grabs a sweater from his own bag and pulls it over his head. He kisses me on the cheek and then I am alone, not a sound in the house but many clocks ticking simultaneously.
I sigh and sit down on the bright couch, pulling a book from the resting on the carpet beside the chesterfield. I open the album on my lap, each page filled with joyful pictures of a family. One in particular makes me take a second glance.
"Who is that?" I ask, staring at the picture of a young woman holding onto a bouncing baby, Mr.Koppinger resting a strong hand on her shoulder.
"That's my mom."
I jump when I look up to Tyler seated on the sofa beside me, peering over at the photos covering the sheets.
"Oh." I look back at the picture, then back at Ty. "That doesn't look like you."
Tyler scowls. "Well, maybe it's because it's not me."
"Oh." I repeat, studying the yellowed photo once more. "Who is it then?"
"No one." he snaps, grabbing the scrapbook from me and slamming it closed. "I don't want to talk about it." He shoves the book onto a shelf in the bookcase and then sits back down on the couch next to me, glaring down at the coffee table.
Part of me wants to ask more about his mother and the boy in the picture, but I know better. Years of being asked about my mother has taught me when it's a good time to stop asking questions.
"Kestrel, where's your mommy?" the girl looks up from my family portrait I had so proudly drawn."I think that you forgot to draw her."
"No, I didn't." I reply. "I don't have a mother."
"Oh. That's sad." she says softly, peering pitifully at me.
I shrug and continue drawing a flower. The petals weren't right. I scribbled over the picture and restarted.
"Is your mom dead?" the girl whispers, wide eyed.
"No." I answer, the start of a cat forming on my page.
"Then where is she?"
"She's..." I hesitate, putting down my marker and looking at the curious girl. "She's in America."
"But she's still you mom, even if she's not around!" the child insists, pointing at the painting of my small family hanging to dry. "You have to draw her, the teacher said we had to draw all of our family!"
"She's not my family." I mutter, getting up from my desk and ripping the picture down from the little clothesline. Dozens of pairs of young eyes watched me as I tore it into tiny pieces and left it in a pile on the classroom floor. "She's not my mother and she never will be."
"Birdie, you're doing it again."
"Hm?" I blink, Tyler waving his hand in front of my face.
"You're talking to yourself again." he informs me, staring intensely into my eyes like he's trying to find out what's wrong with me.
"Oh, sorry." I shake the scary memory from my head and exhale.
Tyler rolls his eyes.
"Oh, Birdie," he laughs, scratching his ear. "Why are you so weir-" He stops and pretends to cough instead of finishing his sentence.
"Different." He corrects, once finished his wheezing into his elbow. "You're different, Kessy, definitely different."
I can't help but smile at his attempt to be nice to me.
That evening, I am approached by Leon.
"I hope he didn't cause too much trouble this afternoon" He sits down next to me on the couch and fluffs my pillow slightly. "Tyler, I mean"
"Actually, He's made some progress" I inform, gathering my hair into a ponytail.
"That's good to hear" he ruffles my hair and walks to the kitchen. The smell of spices cuts through the air when he starts to season our meal, mushrooms and chicken that are sizzling in a pan.
Papa walks out of the bathroom, tugging on the string of his pyjama pants, and motions for me to enter.
"It's all yours" He grabs a towel from the leaning tower that is placed by the bathroom door. I grab my bag and walk in. The interior is painted blue like a sky, dotted with little seagulls and clouds. I drop my stuff behind the door and fiddle with the shower tap, trying to get the head to turn on. When it finally begins to spit out cold water, I brave the chill and dive in, willing to wash off the events of the past few days.
* * * * *
After I step out of the shower, I consult my shabby appearance. There are freckles all over my face and shoulders, and there is a giant birthmark on my neck. I rub the brown splat as if it were a chunk of dirt. Quickly, I change into my nightclothes and run out to join my friends at the dinner table.
"Ah, Birdie, how nice of you to join us!" Leon calls from where he, Ty and Papa sit crowded at the counter. They eat from styrofoam bowls, shoveling the old man's concoction into their mouths.
I snag a bowl from the microwave and open up the drawer to get cutlery, but Leon stops me.
"Use a plastic fork, please, we need to get rid of them" I grin at his efforts to conserve space, and reach into the highest cabinet to get some utensils.
I pull up my chair to the counter and start stuffing my face with the surprisingly not-horrible chicken.
Ty stares at me in disgust.
"You eat like a pig." he says, exposing the half-chewed food in his mouth for all of us to see.
"Right, 'cause you have such great table manners." I retort, taking a swig from my glass of milk.
"Shut up,the two of you!" Papa laughs.
When I finish, the sky is already beginning to darken. Leon and Papa leave to tend to the debris on the beach. Ty and I are left alone once again.
I surf through the channels, stopping to view programs for minutes at a time. My eyes begin to feel groggy and my arms feel heavy. Soon my eyelids begin to droop and I am fast asleep.
I wake suddenly. I can hear my father's snores from the other couch. My heart skips a beat as the clocks begin to chime loudly. I count silently. After the clocks ding twelve times, I lie back down and close my eyes once more.
I sit up at the sound of a crash and look to the door.
"Ouch." the figure hisses, before getting up from the ground and opening the door. He slips outside and into the night.
"Ty." I call quietly. "Where are you going?"
There's no reply so I get up from the soft sofa and trudge to the door. I slide into my shoes and follow Tyler outside. The night air is cool enough to make me shiver as I dart across the yard and after the boy.
Ty walks through the forest, fully dressed, occasionally stumbling over a branch or root. Eventually, he slips through the open door of an old barn. The weakened structure sways in the wind, creaking as if it were about to collapse.
I kneel down next to the wide double-doors, trying to overhear why Ty has ventured into an abandoned barn. From the inside, I can hear a few faint voices, so I press my ear against the door frame and listen.
"Well hello there, weirdo" After about ten minutes of eavesdropping on the boring coversation going on inside, a voice hidden by the double-doors makes me jump. "I thought you would join us" Tyler's hand reaches outside and pulls me into the barn.
The time of night hides everyone's faces, but I can tell that they're the kids from around town, from their rude remarks towards me.
"Look who's here" Claire remarks, pointing a beer bottle towards me. Everyone laughs.
"You shouldn't be underage drinking" I pout, hugging my knees up to my chest and trying to keep my hands from shaking with nerves. These people, they've done so many horrible things to me. Why would they invite me to talk with them?
"Whatever. Want one?" A boy who has his arm wrapped around the girl calls. I shake my head, declining the offer.
"Okay. We'll spit it out. All of us have been discussing it, and have decided that we're sorry about what you had to go through" Claire shrugs. The rest of the room nods in agreement, and they all take another sip.
Would these people really want to be my friends? I ask myself, giddy and angry at the same time. The people who are gathered around me, they're bad people. What they did to me, and what they're doing to me, is unforgiveable. But, there's a small voice inside my head that makes me smile like a little girl.
Another boy tosses a drink at me. The second my reflexes kick in and I grab the bottle before it shatters on the ground, Papa groggily peeks his head through the door.
"Are you here, Birdie and Ty?" He looks up to see me holding a bottle of beer. "Kestrel, what are you holding?" His face reddens, and the middle-aged man storms into the stuffy barn. "ANSWER ME!"
"Mr. VanTaraden, it was all so scary! Ke-Birdie brought us here, and forced us to drink this alcohol- we're not even 19 yet!" A voice pipes from behind me, and I turn around in astonishment.
A/N EEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee we tried to write a cliff-hanger this time. it failed.
So, who's this mystery person that's blaming all these horrible things on Birdie? The poor girl!
Anyway, We're sorry about the lack of ideas. Although, if everything went our way, we'd already be done this story, made billions of dollars, bought times square and built a llama shaped gummy-bear store there. Just sayin'
So, I hope everyone's fine with the slight inappropriateness of this chapter... eep
~Fedora and What
