Journey's Child

1

San Jose, California 2003

The nightmare began at the end of May. My family was on the verge of beginning an uneventful summer filled with swimming at the public pool, tennis lessons and a vacation. This year we were going to the Grand Canyon, but plans have a way of falling apart. I remember the day it started.

*

The sun oozed through the blinds and began a slow crawl up my bed, flowing over the green coverlet like molten lava towards my face. On this late spring morning, I began to emerge into the new day by sitting up and stretching my arms over my head and yawning loudly. When I opened my eyes the clock on my side table came into focus.

"Oh no, why didn't anyone wake me up?"

I jumped out of bed, my bare feet slapping the wood floor, and ran downstairs towards the kitchen. It was my parents' favorite morning hangout and I wanted answers.

"Why didn't someone wake me up?" I demanded as the aroma of coffee and bacon surrounded me.

"Gilly," my mother chirped, "Dad wanted to let you sleep."

"But he took Sam with him. The three of us always go on Sunday adventures together."

"I know, but you didn't sound too excited about going last night, so he thought he'd let you sleep in." She gave a nod pointing to a place setting at the counter. "I made French toast and bacon for breakfast."

She winked one of her emerald green eyes at me as if that would make everything all right.

I sat down still sulking from being ditched. "I don't see why Dad thinks I need more sleep."

She gave me a wide-eyed expression; the dark lashes framing them seemed to make it more exaggerated. "Well, considering it's 9:30, you slept two hours past your wake-up time."

"We were going to check out tide pools. I really wanted to go."

My mom put her hands on her tiny waist and sighed. "Well maybe you can make a plan to go again in a few weeks," she suggested flashing one of her warm smiles with her full shapely lips.

I gave her a quick insincere smile back. The thought came to me as it often did, of how beautiful she was. This ate at me because I was nothing like her. As she plopped a piece of French toast on my plate, her brown hair was caught by the morning sun and the soft highlights that streaked through it, glistened like spun gold. She was born in Quebec and spoke with a French accent that people, even strangers, always commented on. When she spoke her native French I swear some people would actually swoon. It made me sick.

I didn't inherit any of my mother's good qualities. Even my name got ruined by my little brother. I was born Jillian Esme Morris until Sam, who was four years younger, dubbed me Gilly (like a fishes gill) when he began to talk, and it stuck. I was quite aware of just how little I had in common with my attractive mother. My shortcomings were all the more magnified because I was the only member of my family with red hair, not to mention my pale skin with freckles sprinkled across my face.

"After you finish your breakfast you can see if Susannah wants to go see a movie. I will take you if her mother can bring you home."

That perked me up. "Okay, maybe we can see The Lizzy McGuire Movie!" Jumping down from the stool, I sprinted towards the hall.

"You didn't finish..." My mother's voice trailed off as I quickly moved out of earshot.

*

By 1:00 pm the sun made a full appearance in the late spring sky although its bright rays were muted by the constant haze hanging in the air. Undaunted by its fight to break through the smog, the blazing orb already brought the thermometer up to 84 degrees and it was still rising.

Me and my best friend Susannah strolled along the uneven sidewalk in our Willow Glen neighborhood talking about the movie we'd just seen.

"I love the way Lizzy became popular and beautiful. I mean there's even hope for us! Maybe we can bloom before we hit middle school in the fall," Susannah joked.

I glanced over at my friend. I had my doubts about any drastic blooming coming our way. Susannah was as average and nondescript as me, with shoulder length straight brown hair and braces. I saw the way the popular girls looked at us - like we were lepers. I felt the sting of their mean giggles whenever they walked past. Those girls were light years ahead of us, with their padded bras and nail polish and tinted lip gloss. I already knew what lay in store for us this fall, and it wasn't anything good.

"Well, no matter what we have each other," I said more as an oath than a fact.

"Hey, what's up at your house?"

I looked down the street and saw a police car parked in my driveway. "I don't know but let's hurry."