Lunar Virus ✔️

Chapter Five: Elodie

Author's Note:

Yes, the dress up top was made by a wonderfully talented middle schooler and made completely out of pages from the book, Twilight. Best use of those pages, honestly.

***

It's snowing outside. Beautiful twinkling shards falling with an exhilarating fury. It's only been three hours, and already, four inches of rich powder cover the driveway-something I would have to eventually clear when the snow finally stopped. Behind me, Jem bounces around happily in his pajamas with a sippy cup of chocolate milk in hand singing, "Snow day! Snow! Day!" to the tune of some vaguely familiar song. Yes, we have a snow day. Because, apparently, even fancy space organizations care for the safety of their students.

I spend my day doing literally nothing until the snow finally stops. It's then that I force myself to finally get up and out to shovel the snow. Outside, the snow is blindingly bright, definitely sun-glass worthy. A slight breeze lifts and swirls the feather-light snowflakes into the air creating ripples in the glistening blanket of snow. I already know that within the hour, my cheeks and nose will be red. Sighing, I retrieve the shovel and get to work shoveling. The air outside is so cold, that as soon as the first flakes fell in the morning, they didn't melt when they hit the ground reducing slush-levels significantly. A blessing if there ever was one; less slush means less scraping at the ground with the shovel. Shoveling, luckily, is a mindless activity. All it is is a repetitive motion. Again and again. Over and over. After a while, I'm no longer consciously shoveling, but deep in the troughs of my mind.

Thoughts I forced to the back of my head resurface like unwanted plastic wrappers that just won't disappear beneath the currents. The feeling of standing in the dark being hunted by that beast is the first to come up. It was a feeling of vulnerability that I never want to feel again. The feeling that I have no control, that I am in fact vulnerable. I try to push the feeling back down as it starts seeping up through my back and in the pit of my stomach.

I could die right now. I could slip on ice and bleed until there'd nothing left. I could collapse in the snow and drown in the snow. I could be kidnapped and killed.

There's a rustling in the bushes behind me, and I instinctively flinch and turn. I nearly crumple in relief when I see it was nothing but a squirrel. Turning back to the shovel, I continue at more of a frenzied pace, my hands slightly shaking. Just finish and get inside! Damn it! We need a snow blower!

Looking up, I see that I've unknowingly finished shoveling over half of the driveway. All I have to do is widen the path at the mouth of the driveway for the car so that it could turn safely in towards the garage. Zeroing in on the one spot in need of shoveling, I tiptoe-run towards it. After all, there's no need to be loud if there really is something more than a squirrel in the bushes. So focused am I on getting to the spot, that I trip over my snow boots--I can't even blame this on the snow--and hit the ground. Ow . . . .

Groaning, I shift onto my back so that I'm facing the poker-faced sky. I know it's secretly laughing anyway. Down about a few yards away from me, I actually do hear laughing. Oh, shit. I pat around until I find the shovel just a few feet away from me, and standing up, I brandish it in front of me like I'm an expert first-rate fencer (or at least this is how I imagine it looking).

"Nice fall." Willing my eyes win out against the glare of the snow, I realize that it's Gertru-no-Sheila. A flicker of annoyance crawls into my mind and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. So now she decides to acknowledge me. I mean, sure, I guess she did give me her name yesterday. But really, why should she expect me to treat her nicely after being such a snob? We are not at the point in our "friendship" to be teasing each other about falling. At this point, she should be asking politely, "Are you okay?"

I decide to voice my misgivings, because, why not? "What? So now you decide to acknowledge me?"

She's now just standing a few feet away from me looking as put together as ever with a slight smile gracing her features. Her dark skin glows in the backdrop of the snow, and her always-perfects curls are as neat as ever with not even a single tangle showing itself. I immediately start to feel self-conscious. Waking up this morning, knowing I didn't have any obligations that require human interaction, I didn't even bother to comb my hair. Now, because of the wind, my brown hair probably stuck in even direction (I didn't bother putting it in a ponytail either). "Looking hot, Ello," she looks at the mess that is my hair amusedly. Wait, Ello? Where did that come from?

"Ello?"

"Well, I can't call you Ellie, it's too close to Elie's name. I decided on Ello." Hmm, I suppose that is fair. I kind of did start it with the whose Gertrude thing.

"Okay . . ." I offer a hesitant smile.

"Listen, I'm sorry about um . . . being such a butt. I'm just-it takes me a while to get used to changes and stuff. Having to drive you to the facility makes it so that I have to wake up about a whole fifteen minutes early which messed up my routine. I need my beauty sleep more than anyone."

I feel a small part of me thaw. Sleep is definitely valuable. "Don't worry, I'll be getting my official drivers license soon," I say. She nods amicably, then turns serious. "Is this all you came here for?" I ask, "Because, if you're staying, you can just take this shovel and clear the rest of the driveway."

She shrugs, takes the shovel, and starts shoveling. Woah, I did not expect that.

I nudge her playfully, feeling a bit awkward, "It was a joke." She nods mutely as if not really hearing me, and I start to actually feel concerned. "Are you okay?" She starts and looks up at me with wide, dark eyes.

"Yes! Yeah! Definitely!" Defensive much? I'm almost one hundred percent sure she is not okay, but I can understand if she doesn't want to talk about it. I don't press her and just let her shovel the snow, which can be oddly stress relieving at the best of times.

Within five minutes, she is done shoveling and looks marginally more relaxed than before, although a thoughtful look still dominated her features. I decide it won't hurt to try some small talk. "So, how far away from here do you live?"

She snorts, "Stalker much?" I raise my eyebrows, unimpressed. Rolling her eyes, she says, "I live only a couple miles away from here."

"Oh, so you're in the Farenfield school district area?"

"Yep. I went to Farenfield high school for all of freshman and sophomore year until I didn't."

"Really?" I'd never seen her around before, but apparently, we used to go to the same school. "Did you ever have Ms. Litvin? I've heard horror stories."

She nods grimly, "Unfortunately."

"HA, you poor child! What did she do to you?"

We continue teacher-bashing until I finally register the numb state my fingers are in and suggest we go inside. I feel kind of satisfied that I was able to get her mind off of whatever depressing thing she was thinking about and decide to make celebratory hot chocolate, because why not?

Just as I squirt the whipped cream into each of the mugs, Sheila's phone rings. The ringtone is "How Bad can I be?" from the movie, The Lorax. I smirk in her direction and she rolls her eyes.

"Sheila speaking." Wow, fancy, I mouth in her direction. She gives me a sharp look to tell me to shut up. "What?" her eyes slightly widen. Okay, now I'm curious. I strain to hear what the person on the other end is saying. "Okay, yes. We're coming." She turns to me, and I see that her troubled expression has returned.

"What?" I snap.

"There's trouble back at the facility."

***
Author's Note (again):

Yeah, so this was kinda a character relationship development kind of chapter. But, I felt that it had to be done.
Also, #552 in science fiction! Thank you so much to my readers! If you like the chapter maybe consider voting?

PS: My grammar sucks. PLEASE feel free to go grammar crazy on everything.