Ruby Red Marionette

nine | noteworthy

Once, when I was younger, my mother organized a birthday party at my school.

It was about second grade. We were tired of the normal backyard, bouncy-house, friends-and-family parties. So she sent me to school in a ballerina dress, and my classroom was already set up for a party. All of my classmates’ desks were pushed together and covered with cartoon covers to create tables for all the snacks. There were games and prizes, like charades and Pin the Tail. At the end of the day, my parents came with balloons and a cake. They sang the stupid song, and after I blew out my candles, everyone popped all the balloons.

I never liked that.

Now, I can say that the disturbing shock in my ears every time one of those eager, naive, runny-nosed children jabbed their pencils into a balloon was a foreshadow to the events in my life now. In one light, I could say that my life filled with opportunities. A chance to do better, to turn down what I knew would bring trouble in exchange for a path that would make my parents smile. But I was every one of those kids, voluntarily ruining them, slamming closed each door that opened because I knew it led to something that I was trying to steer away from, something that I should’ve been running toward.

Or, if I looked at it differently, it could be a harbinger of what took place now: buildings just blowing up all about Tennessee, as if someone was just popping them with a pencil.

I needed a break from it. The talk of explosions, the new information, the headaches that came every time my mind wandered to Ashley and the man I couldn’t see at The Grove and Carlos. It wasn’t exactly easy to get used to so many new things, new faces and new events, after living a life like mine. Brutally uneventful. There was only one point in my life when things were different, changing constantly, a new story every day. This was during my transition, the switch from predictable, doctor-to-be Geneva to out-of-control Geneva. The “good girl gone bad” process is always exciting, but once it was over things became quiet. In fact, I began to feel more bored with life than I was before, which defeats the purpose of everything I worked so hard to prove.

But here it was again, the excitement, the fear. My transformation was the first time in my life when something worth talking about happened, and it lasted for a few months. It seemed that this, the bombs and new friends, was another period of time where things would be worth living for, the beginning of a few months of noteworthy events.

Strangely, thinking about what could come turned the fear into anticipation and curiosity.

I woke up in the studio again this morning. I had no recollection of my journey from Isaiah’s house to the studio, again. I wasn’t bleeding again, though. A tender, fresh scar replaced what used to be a neat line of redness. The scar, though slightly raised, blended almost perfectly with my skin. I left the bedroom to take a shower (something that I’d only taken a break from for one day, but it felt like weeks) and then went upstairs to see how the girls were doing. An instructor was teaching a routine, and only some of the girls were doing it. Others sat in the corner and stretched, or did their own freestyle pieces. Nobody had the energy for dance anymore, not if there wasn’t a reason for it. They were a bunch of skilled, depressed ballerinas.

Their mood turned the studio into an even more melancholy environment than usual, so I decided to leave. At first, as I put on a pair of jean shorts despite the fact that my scar was showing, I didn’t exactly know where I was going. But once I walked out the door, letting Sarah know that I’d be back soon, I remembered what today was: November seventeenth, Carlos’ birthday. Or at least, the day he told me was his birthday. For all I knew, the whole county fair invitation could’ve been a hoax.

Thinking of the invitation reminded me that I promised to invite friends. So, halfway down the block, I turned back and told Sarah to tell Yvette, when she came in, to meet me at the county fair tonight. Then I gave my other “friends” a call, and my destination became their home.