The Adventures of Lori and Apples

Apples

Apples.

No answer. My mind is quiet. No voice. Nothing. Just the faint stirring of an empty mind. It's quiet and peaceful for the first time.

Apples?

Still nothing. It's always when I need Apples the most they're not there. Always when, in the outside world, something bad is happening. Like right now. Right now, when I need Apples the most, three kids from school are tormenting me. I've drawn in on myself, waiting for Apples. Calling to Apples. But ... there's nothing.

Apples, you little bitch! Get your arse here now and help me you coward!

I can feel a faint stirring, but not in my mind. I return to the real world, and pain bursts across my face. I blink in astonishment, tears springing to my right eye. I look up, my pearlescent blue and purple eyes flashing, to see the tallest boy leering at me.

"Did that hurt, freak?" He snarls in my face.

I just stare blankly at him. The others laugh, but their laughter is strained, as though they don't really find it funny. I don't blame them. Even I don't find being slapped in the face funny.

"I said," the boy grabs my shoulders, and pushes me against the tree I'd backed up to, "did that hurt, freak?"

"Maybe she's deaf?" A girl offers.

The third, a boy probably my age, shakes his head. "No, she's not deaf. She's just weird. Apparently she's a schizo," he tells them.

The tallest boy smiles evilly. "A schizo, eh? So she really is crazy, then?" He glances over his shoulder.

"Yeah. She started screaming in the middle of class once," the boy continues. "Said that some ghosts were after her. Said she'd made a promise to one, but forgot about it, and now they're pissed off at her," he shakes his head in wonder. "And then she starts blaming apples about random shit."

"Apples? What the heck is with apples?" The girl asks.

"Beats me," the boy looks at me with a sympathetic look on his face. "She's a schizo."

Just the way he says it rings through my head. A schizo? What's that? Is that the name for the kind of crazy person I am? Is that why I see the things I do? Why I have Apples to talk to? Is that why I sometimes can't speak properly, and why my Dad is always nervous around me?

"Whatever. I think she should get some sense knocked into her," the tallest boy snaps.

The other two exchange worried glances. "I don't know. Look at her eyes," persuades the boy.

"Yeah, she looks possessed. I've heard schizos are really dangerous," the girl adds.

They all give me weird looks. I just blink at them, because what they're saying means nothing to me. I don't get why they're tormenting me, but now, it isn't bothering me. I know that if I go home again with an injury again, Dad will get sad and worried, and then call the school and tell them. And then people in blue clothing will come and talk to the classes about bullying, and people that are supposed to help the mind will talk to me. Apples always helps me there, and they tell my Dad I pass as "normal".

But I don't want to be normal! I don't want to be a hair type, or a cycle on the washing machine! I want to be me: Lori. I want it to just be Lori and Apples, living peaceful lives without having to worry about anyone.

"Yeah, and her Dad's a cop," the boy continues. "If she told him it was us, we'd be screwed. You don't want another busting, do you? And she's a girl, and three years younger than you."

There is a moment of silence, and I call to Apples again. The tallest boy stares at me, his thoughts running across his mind. I can see how this will end, and emotion finally comes. But, as I've foreseen, the emotional response is what spurs everything into action.

My lips curl into a harmless smile. And though it was slight and harmless, no malice or mockery there, the tallest boy gets mad, and hits me again, wiping the smile from my face.

"Don't you dare do that again," he snarls.

Apples please! I'm sorry I called you a coward! I won't do it again! I promise! I mentally plead.

But you always say that, and then what do you do? You call me a coward whenever I try to sleep!

Relief washes through me. My legs grow weak, and I let out a sigh. This brings on another slap across the face, but I can ignore the pain now.

You don't sleep, though, Apples.

I do too! Apples growls. Now, why are you in pain?

I'm not in pain, I answer, just so glad Apples is here.

Are you kidding me? Do you think I'm stupid? Lori, your left cheek feels like it's on fire, for crying out loud!

There is a pause from Apples.

Have you cried out loud yet? Asks a curious Apples.

I giggle. No, not yet.

Another slap across the face. The force slams my head into my shoulder, and I'm slammed harder into the tree. This time, a small cry escapes my lips, and I can feel Apples' fury.

Make him pay, Lori, Apples commands. Make him hurt like he's hurting you!

But I can't, Apples. He's holding my arms, I think frantically.

Well, are your legs free? Growls Apples, as though I'm stupid.

I look down at my legs, and smile again. I nod, and Apples laughs. It's a small, tinkling sound that fills me with joy.

Bring your knee up, like I've taught you. And make sure it hurts, Apples says excitedly.

My knee is brought up, in a flash, and smashes into the tallest boy's groin. He jumps back, and lands on the ground, holding the spot where I'd kneed him. The other two stare at him in shock, and then look at me. I blink at them blankly.

Now what? I ask.

Must I do everything for you? Apples growls impatiently.

I pause. Yes, I say enthusiastically.

Aye, aye, aye, Apples groans. Now, you run!

And then my legs are moving me as fast as I can to the safest place I know: home.