The Dream Trotters

Chapter 7

Phillipa didn’t believe in butterflies anymore; basically, the whole rubbish thing that teachers told students about the jitters that they got before public speaking.  Phillipa could imagine all her teachers patting her on the shoulder and saying, “It’s just nervousness child.  Use them to your advantage.”  Whoever came up with that saying, Phillipa wanted to make them give a speech in front of four hundred people.  There definitely weren’t any graceful butterflies flitting about in her stomach.  As she sat ready to deliver her speech on the janitorial staff of the school, salamanders slithered up and down her throat and hoards of moths bombarded the hollow of her stomach.  Every few seconds, Pipa kind of twitched and a feverish uncertainty waved over her whole being.  The twitching practically caused a small convulsion of her whole body, which meant that the metal chair would squeak and groan with each movement.

Her best friend, Edith, sat next to her.  Phillipa flipped through her notes, waiting and shaking with fear.  Unlike Pipa, who had untamable hair, Edith was practically popular material.  Her hair lay and cascaded flawlessly down her back, she had a charming genuine smile and a relatively unblemished face.  The only thing that separated her from the masses was that she was maybe four inches shorter than everyone else, which was not that big of a difference, and that she loved to giggle.  Edith found joy in almost everything and those around her were always comfortable with who they were.  In this way, she was impeccably unique.

Edith clasped Phillipa’s hands and held them tight and still.  Yet still she shook with fear.

              “I.. um.. I don’t think I can do this.”  Phillipa whispered this into her friend’s ear, but with the amount of vocal control that she had at the moment, it ended up rather loud.

“Don’t worry Pipa, you’ll do fine!  You’ve practiced your speech at least five hundred times.  I mean really, it’s not that big of a deal.  If you mess up, you will only look like a babbling idiot in front of, well the whole school.”   Of course, this didn’t help at all.  

“Miss King, would you please come up here?  As our student body treasurer, Miss King is going to give a small account of what we earned at our last school car wash.”  Even though she distinctly heard Principal Spencer call her name, Phillipa felt as if all her being was glued to the metal that lay below her, a obstacle which would make it impossible for her to approach the front.  

“Pip, get up.  He called you,” said Edith, in a voice which was a shout yet still preserved the sound range of a whisper.

“I can’t,” she replied, even though Phillipa knew this wasn’t true.   Edith pried Phillipa off the chair, resulting in Phillipa finally getting up, yet her face was already flushed with embarrassment.  As Phillipa started the twenty meter walk to the front, she couldn’t help but  inhale the attitude of the people around her.  A girl to her left turned to a friend and whispered something unintelligible, yet Phillipa got the jist of it.  Each word that was spoken was gossip, a verbal arrow piercing her spine as she walked.  Whether it was about her hair, her jeans, or even the way that she walked, they all translated into the same pain.  Phillipa walked faster. Finally, she reached the podium at the front of the gym. She smoothed her patterned oxford, and pulled a few notes out of the pack pocket of her jeans.  

“Um, well, we...”  The first trio of words that ensued from her mouth was definitely not the strongest, in fact they couldn’t have been worse.  Her fingers shook, and before she could spit out anymore nonsense, she was interrupted.  

“Sit down you idiot!  No one cares what you have to say!”  was shouted from a speaker further back in the gymnasium.  In her head, Phillipa imagined herself choking back sobs and sitting down.  But instead she lay down her speech notes and grasped the podium with both hands, fingers turning white from the pressure.  She stood firm, ready to begin anew, until she dropped her notes.  Laughter erupted everywhere at the same time.  But this wasn’t a giggle that is shared between friends, or even a hearty chuckle between a middle-aged couple, it was cruel. It originated all from Phillipa’s expense, a disgusting way to derive pleasure.  Phillipa blinked back a few tears, picked up her notes, and began. Soon, she had disgorged all the facts that she needed to say, speaking quickly and hiccuping over bigger words.  With each sentence, her face flushed a deeper shade of pink, and her fingers resorted to systematically pushing her hair out of her eyes.  As soon as the last word left her lips, she grabbed her notes and hurried down the stairs, not accompanied by any applause.  Seconds became hours as she speed walked back to her seat, longing for the shelter that her friends could provide. As soon as it began, it was over, and she quietly slipped back into her seat.  

The principal of the school ascended the few stairs up to the stage with noted masculine poise and posture, a unique characteristic among so many students who commonly resumed hunch back poses.  He was a thin, tall man with a decent amount of blond hair on his head.  In his first year as principal, he had been a smiling, yet harsh man.  Yet over decades, his discipline had become threadbare like the pea green sweaters that he wore, without failing, every day.  When he finally reached the podium, it took the students minutes to even realize that he was there, nonetheless quiet down.  He began speaking in a high, worn voice, which had reached its max of yelling and commands.

“Students, students, please quiet down now.  Thank you Phillipa for that enlightening presentation.  I’m sure we all found it educational.  Now children, I have some rather sorry news to tell you.”  At this time, whisperers and people attempting to whisper all began “whispering” at the same moment, trying to figure out what this announcement could be.  After at least five minutes of this, a hush once again rushed over the adolescent crowd.  “Thank you, now some of you may know that an important event has happened.  Students, in the last twenty-four hours, a menacing murderer has escaped from a prison nearby, and was recently spotted only a few miles from here.” Shouts of excitement and fear were heard all over the gymnasium and students once again tried to talk to each other, but were shushed by students who now actually wanted to hear the announcement from the principal.

Principal Spencer clicked a button on the podium and down descended the projector screen.  A hush fell over the crowd as the students waited, anticipating their principal’s next move.  The projector screeched alive, muttered its protests at being woken at such an unruly hour, and then sputtered to life.  The white screen mutated with color, and molecules of pigment bounced around, finally forming an image.  Students gasped as they passed their eyes over the image of a murderer.   Most of the teens were surprised; they expected the man to have scars all over his body and maybe even crooked teeth.  But he looked like their fathers, their uncles, their neighbors.

Shaggy black locks of hair lay in a confusing tangle on the man’s head, crowning colorful eyes and a stereotypical nose.  The man had medium sized lips and a well-defined chin.  All in all, he could have been anyone, yet at the same time, the longer the students looked at the man, the nastier his face became.  Wrinkles surrounding his eyes seemed to be hiding secrets, and his eyebrows appeared to be knitted in a murderous look.  Despite the change in the rest of the students’ attitude towards the man, Phillipa’s stayed resolved.  Rather than malcontent in the man’s eyebrows, she saw sadness.  His beautiful eyes were interlaced with worry and decisions that no human should have to make.

Gunshots rained downed on the children and half the crowd flinched at the sound.  But it was nothing more than rain, intermingled with lightning and thunder.  The condescending weather poured down on the roof of the gymnasium, pelting the metal shingles, which produced a terrifying pounding sound.  Attentions were brought back to the front, as the slide changed, and now showed a local map.  The principal pointed out the last spot that the man had been seen, apparently a local restaurant.  The location was only four miles from the school.  After that, once the students had been calmed again, the principal announced that under federal order the school was under lock down.  The students would stay at school until the convict had been caught.