Lacuna(1)

May 26th 2009

7 years old 05/26/09
   "Jamie!" I shouted, chasing Jameson around the playground. For once, we could feel like normal children and not worry about literal adults asking for photos. Our mother had taken us somewhere. For once. Mom was never too involved with our lives. Sometimes she'd leave for days on end, even months. That's how Jamie and Xan came to be. Mom got up, left for a week, came back pregnant, gave birth, and ran off again.
    
"You'll never catch me!" Jamie's mocking voice brought me back to the present.
    
As I sprinted after Jamie, I hadn't realized another person was here. I slowed down to study her. She had long blonde hair that went down to her shoulders. Her eye color was difficult to make out because she was squinting at the sun. I brought my attention back to Jamie to find he noticed her too.
    
Quickly, he ran over to her as I attempted to get there first. Everything was always a race or a game in our family.  A new competition of who's the tallest, who has the deepest voice—it's always Nash— even stupid things like whose eye color was superior. Suddenly, mid-sprint, something caught my shoe and I fell straight on my face. It took me a second to lift my head, a stabbing pain in my right hand. I looked down to see blood dripping down my hand onto the pavement, a small piece of glass sticking through my pinky.
   
"Gray!" My mom called out to me, "Oh, what happened, hunny?" She asked, her pitch rising as if talking to a toddler.
    
"I just fell. I'm fine." I lied, looking over to Jamie who was in deep conversation with the blonde girl. My mom hooked her arms under mine to lift me onto my feet.
    
"Come on, it'll be ok." She whispered examining my injury. I turned back to look at Jamie who was still talking to the girl. Suddenly, his head whipped around and we locked eyes. He furrowed his brows and tilted his head as if asking me what was going on. Next to him, the girl followed his gaze and found me, tilting her head similarly to how Jamie was. I lifted my hand to show him but my attention was brought to the blonde girl being dragged away by a man. I assumed he was her father but they shared no features. Where he was sharp, she was soft. Where he was thicker, she was skinny.
    
It reminded me of how none of my brothers look alike. Nash has light brown hair while Jamie has dark brown. Xan is darker where I'm light. Like our eyes, his is a deep brown, mine is a light blue bordering gray. His hair is black while mine is white-blonde. Nash was also tanner than Jamie and I. My mom grabbed my hand again, turning around in Jamie's direction.
   
"Jameson! We're leaving." She called out, Jamie returning like a dog playing fetch. 
   
"Mom," I attempted to pull my hand away. "I'm fine, really. It's nothing much."
    
"Grayson." She said sternly. "It's not 'nothing' it's something and we're going to treat it." I rolled my eyes at her sudden possessiveness over me. At home she wouldn't have even noticed— probably would've told me to go to Oren. But now, now that we're in public, she has to care.

     After we had gotten home, I was wondering where the girl went. Why was she alone? Why hadn't I noticed she was alone until now? It's not usual to see an unattended seven-year-old. So, the best way to get information was through Jamie.
   
"Jamie." I knocked gently on his bedroom door.
   
"Yeah?" He called. I walked in a found him sitting on the floor, playing with some sort of contraptions either he, Xan, or our grandfather made.
  
"Who was the girl you were talking to at the park?" I sat down next to him. I read somewhere that getting down to someone's level helps ease them and get the information you want. This method has worked five of the seven times. The two times were when I tried it with my grandfather who told me to stand back up.
   
"I don't know. I didn't get her name. Or if I did," He shrugged. "I wasn't listening."
  
"Oh." That wasn't much help.
   
"Why?" He looked over at me, narrowing his eyes.
   
"Just wanted to know..." That was a half-truth.

Yeah, I wanted to know but there was something else about her that kept drawing me to her. I don't think I'll ever be able to find this reason though. A blonde seven-year-old girl is pretty common. Even though I may never, I'm still determined to find her. Find why I feel the need to know more about her. Why was I so drawn toward her?