The Degeneration of Gwen Weaver

Afterglow

I'm falling, the roaring sounds of hate filling my ears, and acrid smoke burning my eyes. I land in a bush, the thorns catching at my nightgown and scraping up my frail limbs. Shocked, I lay among the branches, head jarred from the fall, unsure of what to do next. The final words of my mother weave through my mind, reminding me again and again of what I've just lost. Fat tears roll down my face, leaving clean streaks in my ashen cheeks. I sit up, pressing a small hand to my head in an attempt to stop a throbbing pain in my head. My hand comes away bloody.

Stay safe...

.... Wait, people will be along to help you...

My house is still burning, the firelight shining through my eyelids and scalding my cheek. I untangle myself from the brambles and stumble into the dense forest that looms behind me. Eventually, I come across a large pile of dead leaves, the tops ones still brittle. Too tired to care, I burrow in and close my eyes, willing myself to fall asleep.

Crunch

The heavy sounds of footsteps and the sounds of voices wake me from my stupor. I raise my head blearily, remembering my mothers promise of help. Pushing the leaves aside, I glance about for my rescuers. The voices get closer, louder, but I can't quite make out their words. Through the trees, I can make out the embers of the house fire, faint wisps of flame still dancing around the tops of the ashes. It's been a long night, but the sky is glowing over the rubble with the promise of dawn. Silhouettes obscure my view. I scramble out of my nest and stumble towards my saviors.

A deep, leathery voice echoes among the trees. "Have you found her?"

"No, we haven't found the body." Responds a woman. I shrink back into the trees, wary.

"Hopefully she burned up with the rest of that infernal house."

"She had a kid, right?" A mans voice pipes up, this one younger.

"Yeah." The older man replies.

"What happened with her?"

"Whaddaya thing we're looking for, idiot?"

"Paul, be civil!" The woman chastises.

"Mary, it's not my fault the boy's dumb as a brick." Paul retorts.

"Todd?"

"Yes, Ma." The younger man replies.

"Why don't you go ahead and look for the little girl, and Paul and I will go back to the house and make sure everything is taken care of." The short, plump figure turns and heads back towards the rubble. The other two are close enough that I can make out an old, grizzled man and a boy in his late teens with a long face, nervous eyes, and hands too big for his spindly arms.

The older man turns and faces Todd, gripping his arms roughly. "Boy, yer mother thinks you can handle this, but I know better. Yer on thin ice as it is, so if you screw this up there will be hell ta pay." He growls, spitting out the last few words.

Todd nods furiously, wincing as flecks of spit dot his face. Paul releases him and stalks off after Mary, leaving the boy nervously glancing around the forest, trying to discern objects in the dim half light. I know it'll only be a matter of time before I'm caught, so I decide to make a run for it, but I trip over a tree root and bite the dust. I hear soft footsteps and look up to see a gangly figure studying me.

"The Weaver kid." He mutters unconsciously, unsure of what to do. Then he reaches down, grabs my arm, and bellows at the top of his pubescent lungs.

"UNCLE PAUL! MA! I FOUND HER!"

~~~

Carly is waiting by my locker when I get to school, arms crossed, eyebrows knitted, circles under her eyes more pronounced than usual. At the sounds of my footsteps, she looks up at me, anxiety twisting her features. I feel a pang of anxiety, but avert my eyes and pretend she's not there.

"Gwen?" she says meekly, my name turned into a question of trust and forgiveness.

I wait a second before responding, my voice froggy with the sounds of suppressed tears. "May I- may I help you?"

"I can explain, really! Just trust me!"

"Why would I trust you? You aren't my friend. My friend wouldn't play people's emotions. My friend wouldn't play me for a fool or leave me behind."

"I don't understand."

"You were my friend, once. But we're different people now. And this is just a sign. I'm not your friend."

"Gwen..."

"Go away."

"Gwen!"

"GET OUT!"

Carly's round face crumples, her brown eyes growing wet with tears. The last time I saw her this upset was when her German Shepard, Rufus Goldberg, got hit by a car two years ago. I look up at the ceiling in a feeble attempt to pull myself together. I don't look down until I hear Carly's footsteps disappear.

~~~

It takes until lunch for me to realize that I don't have anywhere to sit. I stand poised at the cafeteria entrance, desperately scanning the room for a glimpse of a familiar face. Carly walks past me, head down, and sits down at a table with the girls from Student Council and volleyball. For one brief second, our eyes meet. I give her a small, hopeful smile, but her face just hardens in response.

"Weaver!" I hear a boy's voice call behind me. I turn around and see Faust swinging his lunch box flamboyantly.

"Faust! Hey, um..."

"Can we talk?"

"I was about to ask the same thing, actually."

"Great." He leads me out of the cafeteria and down the hall, turning a corner to a small alcove hosting a water fountain. He plunks down and pulls out his lunch. I follow uncertainly.

"So, I'm really sorry about.. you and Carly."

"It's fine."

"I know breakups are hard, but-"

"Gwen?"

"- and I mean maybe it's for the best, now that you know-"

"Gwen."

"- I mean I guess she's moving on now-"

"Gwen! Carly and I didn't break up!"

I freeze mid sentence, sandwich raised halfway to my lips. "Oh."