CO2

Chapter Two TUESDAY

I pack up my bag along with everyone else, stuffing my large amount of textbooks into my small backpack. Walking out of class, I see my friend, Ella. I don't see her that often during the day, because we only have History together, so I decide to catch up with her.

"Hey, Ella!" I say when I see her jet black hair passes right by me. She turns to me, and I notice that she has to look down a little. Even though we are pretty much the same age, I am at least 3 inches shorter than Ella. Almost everyone else in my class, in fact. For the first few years of elementary school, we were all about the same height. But when we got to fifth grade, everyone started, well, growing. Anyway, Ella looks at me and smiles. I suddenly realize how sad she looked when she passed by me.

"Hi, Sam," she says, making an effort to seem happy.

"Hey, are you alright? You seemed pretty sad back there." Ella hesitates, glancing around at everyone else.

"Oh? No, I'm fine," she says, although it's clear that what she is saying isn't true. Ella is usually this super perky and excited person. That's why I'm surprised to see her look so depressed.

"Are you sure? I mean, if anything is going on-"

"No!" she shouts, a little too loud. A few people turn to her, and Ella looks down. "I-I'm sorry. I've got to go." I watch her walk down the hall towards her locker. Her black hair stands out among the bright colored clothing of the students. I walk in the same direction to get to my locker, but I am interrupted when Lance runs in front of me.

"Hey, Sam! What's up?" I smile at Lance's cheery voice.

"Well I was going to my locker, until you rudely interrupted me," I say jokingly. Lance laughs and begins walking backwards, and I follow him. "So what's up with you? I mean, other than attempting to walk backwards." Lance almost trips and then begins to walk along next to me. We both pause when we here yelling and slamming.

"Hey, fag, our parents told us about your condition," I hear from around the corner. Then a slam. I look at Lance, and he begins to approach the place that the voice is coming from. I run after him, barely even thinking about what I'm doing.

Then I hear another voice. "Yeah, I heard they weren't too happy about your disease." Another slam, followed by a whimper. I turn the corner, and I see the scene before me. Three guys, slamming one girl against a row of lockers. Ella. It's Ella. Fragile, beautiful Ella, against these three huge jerks.

I take two steps towards them. I can practically smell the disgusting, foul breath coming from the mouths of the three kids. The kids who think that they can do anything. Who think they're better than everyone, and better than Ella.

I see one stumble backwards, and I realize that Ella has shoved him. But before she can run, he grabs her arms and her back hits the metal once more.

I take another step, and Lance grabs my arm. "Sam, stop," he says, and I can hear the pain and worry in his voice. "You're gonna get hurt." But I can barely hear him over the sound of the blood pounding in my ears. I've never felt this angry in my life. I don't even know why I feel like this. I just know that I can't stand this. I can't stand to watch Ella get slammed against the locker. I can't stand the small gathered crowd that just watches while she gets hurt. I take one more step, and the boys finally turn.

"Oh, look! Hey, is this your girlfriend?" The third one says, and the others laugh. I stare at him for a moment, then turn to Ella. She hasn't noticed that her attackers are distracted. But seeing her face makes something rise in me. A whole new wave of rage. And then I punch him. Square in the face. He turns to me, and I can practically see fires in his eyes. So I do something else that surprises me. I laugh. The next thing I know, my head meets the wooden floor and I black out.

***

I open my eyes. I'm outside my house, sitting on the grass alone. It's cloudy. I hear some noises from the street. There is a cold wind blowing my long hair into my face. My long hair...

I must be dreaming. I have long hair, and I'm wearing a skirt, something that my mom used to force me to do. She said it made me look "like a little princess". I thought it was just uncomfortable. I can't feel my glasses. What's going on?

I try to move, and I quickly figure out that I can't. So I sit there for a while until I stand up. I open my mouth to speak, but the voice doesn't sound like my own. It's more high pitched and happy.

"Mom! Dad! I'm going out!" I yell towards the door. Well, I don't yell it, but I do. I mean, I don't try to yell. I don't try to do anything. This all feels oddly familiar. I pause for a moment, then turn and run.

I don't really know where I'm going, since I have no control over what is happening to me. My feet pound the paved streets of the city. I run, and run, until I reach the fence and abruptly stop. I veiw the top of the fence, and I realize that I am even shorter than I usually am. Then I remember when this is. I'm 8 years old. I'll never forget this day.

My tiny hands wrap around the metal wires, and my foot just fits into one of the gaps at the bottom. And I climb.

I remember that day, realizing that the fence was much taller than I thought it was when I was at the bottom. There were also rumors about the fence being deadly in some way, but luckily for me, those rumors were not true.

I slip a couple times, my little sausage-like fingers not being able to grip the thin wires. Every time I do, I have a mini panic attack. But I continue to reassure myself that I must be dreaming. That this is all just a memory.

After about five minutes of non-stop climbing, I finally reach the top. Once I do, I swing my leg over to the other side and begin to climb down to the bottom. All I was thinking about that day was how badly I wanted to see what was past this huge fence. We could all see through it, of course, but I wanted to touch it.

Once my worn-out black flats hit the ground, I begin to run towards the large bubble that surrounds our city. I remember how I wanted to see for myself what the bubble really was. Now that I think about it, I'm surprised that there wasn't more security near the bubble. The fence was easy to climb, and the bubble was right there.

I continue running, until I am a few feet from the bubble. I take some steps. It reminds me of today at school, how I took those slow steps to defend Ella. I was terrified. Suddenly, I realize why I am here. I fell. This is a concussion-induced dream. The scenery begins to slip away, and some light comes into my vision. The last thing I see is my hand touching the cold, plastic surface of the bubble. Two hands wrap around my waist and lift me up as the image completely disappears.