flashback

e i g h t

 

Fletcher

    

After Danyelle and Rio disappeared from view, I was filled with a strange sense of despair. All I could do was sit there, with Sarai and Matt in the background quietly sitting beside me, thinking Well, we made it this far. Now what? I didn’t know what to do. Thankfully, Sarai and Matt didn’t know this. They both sat staring up at me expectantly, as if waiting for the new plan.

“Now what?” Matt asked. I didn’t answer. I just reached into my knapsack and took out my sketchpad. I sketched Sarai’s face and I made her look real, her curls as messy and knotted as they always are, some going this way, some going that way. I made her long face tilt a bit this way, and her cheeks raise, a grin from ear to ear. “Now, what?” Matthew repeated after I set down my pencil.

Luckily, the operator on the train announced that the train was stopping in Boreal. Only two more stops until Sheathing. I looked at the Casio watch on my skinny wrist I had had since I was seven. It read 5:25. If we can get to Sheathing by 6:30, we can make good time and set camp. Matt and Sarai were strangely still, leaning on me from both sides, and after a few minutes I wondered how two little kids could remain quiet and still for so long. I avoided moving and stayed stiff, in fear that they would become restless. But when I heard soft snoring from below me, there was my answer.

    

The operator loudly announced, “Next stop, Sheathing.” I nudged Matthew, who jumped up, his head smacking Sarai, who jumped up, her head smacking the fat arm of the man reading the newspaper next to her. It was like a chain reaction. “Sorry,” said Sarai, demonstrating good manners like I taught her. The man grunted in what seemed like an acceptance of apology. Wow, people around here were rude.

    

Matthew looked annoyed that I snapped him out of his nap. “We’re getting off right now,” I said, standing. I was jolted back in my seat, but scrambled up again and grabbed my bags. I grabbed Sarai and Matt by the shirts and they reached quickly for their bags as we slid through the train doors just in time for them to close. Matt wiped imaginary sweat from his forehead. “Whew! That was close!” he smiled a sweet one at me. So did Sarai. They seemed eager for adventure. Sarai bounced on the balls of her tiny feet. “Where to now, Fletchie?” That’s the thing, I thought. I have no idea. But I saw my duty to be their hero for just then. If their hero had no idea, then they would run like chicks without heads. So I kept cool. “Let’s go,” I said, hoisting my knapsack over my shoulder. I ran a hand through my hair and grabbed the hands of the twins.

Danyelle

            The night air was cool and crisp when I said goodnight to Ceon and escaped from the alley. I walked fast down the sidewalk and let my mind chew on my promise to Ceon. I would walk any amount of miles to fulfill my promise, no matter how many. I turned left on Studebaker and stuck my hands in my sweater pockets.

“Hey! There goes special ed girl!”

I swiveled around quickly. There stood a girl twice, maybe thrice my height. She was monstrous, with a head of thick brown hair and light skin. Bertha. I stood there, watching her quietly. Then I continued walking. It made no sense to fight with Bertha. She had been a bully since the third grade. She particularly enjoyed torturing me. It was best to ignore her. I thought that a name like Bertha was enough to make anyone miserable and want to take out their anger on someone else. So I usually let myself be Bertha’s metaphorical punching bag, because I felt bad for her. It definitely wasn’t because I was scared of her or anything. Because how childish would that be? Usually a wet Willy was all she endowed, and she went away. But this time, Bertha was determined to make me angry, at least, because she ran in front of me and began babbling.

“So, Danyelle, how does it feel to be the only person other than that special Ed freak who is in Special SSR? I met you in third grade, so I am also fully aware that you can’t read. How old are you now? Like, fourteen? Isn’t that lovely! Doesn’t saw become was? And dog become god?” Here she would pause to cackle-hack. Bertha’s hideous laugh was a cross between a chicken and a hacking man with tuberculosis. I didn’t know which was worse—her laugh or her face. Or her personality. And on she would go. On and on.

I simply sidestepped her and continued on my way. She decided that since words weren’t working she should to get physical. I had never before spoken to Bertha. Not once in my life, and decided that I never would. I would not allow myself to grovel, to stoop at her level. I had a shred of dignity left to know not to talk to Bertha. Besides, Bertha was not popular. She was a castoff like me, though not to my level. I was an extreme castoff, and after that SSR assembly, I assumed that I was less liked than the black slime mold growing in the girls’ locker room shower, which all hygienic, decent girls and mostly the janitor abhorred.

She shoved me on my right shoulder, and I staggered for a bit, but regained my balance and continued walking. “Oh, special ed girl’s too good to fight, huh?” Bertha jeered. She shoved me again, and I fell to the sidewalk. I felt my knee grind against the concrete through my cargo shorts. I tried to get up but she pushed me back down. I braced myself for spit or something gross, but an invisible hand suddenly lifted Bertha from above me and dangled her in the air. I jumped to my feet. God? I thought? Is this your power? However, one pair of bushy eyebrows and a toothy smile answered my question: Mario. I smiled and turned to him. I looked up at Bertha and spoke one word to her: “Scram.” Mario dropped her and laughed. “Don’t let me catch you doing that to Dan again.” “You wait, Special Ed girl, you just wait!” screamed Bertha as she ran down the sidewalk. “You hear me?” replied Mario. I laughed.

“Thanks, Rio.” He smiled, but there was sadness in his eyes. And I remembered: those were the last words Sarai had spoken to him. I sighed, and so did he. “I’ve got news for you, Mario. Boy, do I have news. It’s all bad. See, Ceon’s parents…”

When I finished my story, we were in front of my house. “So we’ve got to help them.” I said. Mario stared at me quietly. “Meet me at the Pizza Palace right after school tomorrow. We’ve got kids to catch.” These days, a contract isn’t the most solemn way of promising, I thought. Pinkie swearing is the rage—like kindergarten all over again. I looked at him and stuck out my pinkie.

"Pinkie swear?"

"Pinkie swear."

He gave me his, and swore on it.