FALL (DIMENSION Series #1)

CHAPTER 2

"Eleanor!" my mother called again.

      My mother was one of the few people who called me Eleanor. She'd picked out the name for me because she thought it was a classic name and she liked the way it sounded with my last name Archer. To my mother and people who didn't know me well, I was Eleanor Archer. But Eleanor seemed too formal to me. I was relieved to be Ellie Archer, or just Ellie, to most others.

     I leaned forward and closed the window. While I'd been sitting at my desk, lost in thought, the breeze had turned from cool to chilly. I reached for the blue sweater slung across my chair and slipped it on.

     I ran my hand across Estella's silky gray fur.

     "Are you coming with me?" I asked her. Unlike most other cats, Estella wasn't stubborn. She came to me whenever I called her. She was almost like a little dog. She also was the best homework companion, always keeping me company when I was sitting at my desk.

     Not that much homework had actually happened here today. I was only halfway through my Reproduction of Viruses essay. Another biology assignment I would have breezed through earlier. But that was no longer the case. Homework assignments took longer than before. And it was because I was always lost in another dimension. A dimension where Derek Nash actually knew I existed. One where he talked to me, instead of just giving me the same smile he gave all the girls at school.

     But that wasn't entirely true, I thought, as I made my way down the stairs. Looking out for Estella who was lurking at my feet, like a small shadow. Derek probably didn't have the same smile for all the girls at my school. I bet he had a special smile for the girls he liked. Those girls he went on dates with. But I didn't know that for sure. I wasn't one of those girls.

     Jason, my little brother, waited at the bottom of the stairs with a smile.

     "Enchiladas tonight!" he exclaimed, and his smile widened.

     "Yay!" I said and smiled back at him. And for an instant I wished I could still be eleven like Jason. Solidly planted in middle school and blissfully unaware of all the things that were wrong with the world. It was a lot harder to be seventeen. Seventeen implied a certain level of sophistication, of worldly know-how. Things I clearly lacked.

     And it wasn't just about the qualities you were expected to have. It was about the things you were supposed to have actually done. And the things that might have actually happened to you. Like being kissed by a boy you liked. But, of course, that hadn't happened either.

      "Hey Dad," I said, glancing over at him, before looking down at the steaming plates of enchiladas my mother had already dished up.

     "Ellie," my dad said. "How's my favorite daughter doing today?"

      "Your only daughter," I chimed back and smiled at him. It was a ritual we had, my dad and I. Communicating with him was easier than it was with my mother. My mother was sometimes critical of me. She denied it, but it was a fact.

     "What's happening in calculus?" my dad asked. He was a scientist and always asked specific questions rather than generic ones.

     "More proofs and problems," I replied.

     My mother appeared, and I sat down at our wooden dining table, which tonight was covered with a white-and-green tablecloth. This was one of our family rituals, having dinner together. It was one of the things that made us a balanced family. Or made us look like one, anyway.

     My mother cared about appearances. Her own and also our family's. I got my dark hair and dark eyes from her, but unlike me, she was always groomed. My hair was often tousled and I seldom wore makeup.

     Compared to most families I knew, we seemed mainstream enough. We blended well into Bluffside—our Colorado town. My parents—still married after twenty years—were invested in Jason and me. But sometimes I wondered if my parents weren't overly focused on us. It felt that way, and I thought it might be a substitute for the lack of passion in their own relationship. They didn't fight, but they also didn't seem to be in love.

     Not like I was in love. With intense feelings that overwhelmed not only my heart, but also my brain. And this staggering change in me had been unforeseen. As unforeseen as Derek Nash's transfer to my school had been. How could I have predicted that a boy from Rochester, New York would pitch up in Bluffside and that my life would be different because of it?

      "Salad, Eleanor?" My mother asked, holding out the big glass bowl to me.
I nodded and reached for the bowl. There would be no escaping my mother's salad. She insisted on something green with every meal.

      "How was school today?" my mother asked.

      "Fine," I replied. It was true that the school day had been fine. Just another day of being in class, walking the hallways and being at lunch with hordes of other people. And being acutely aware of Derek Nash through it all—in a manner that disrupted my normal school-day rhythms.

     Regardless of how my day really went: Fine was my standard answer to my mother. My mother wasn't someone I confided in. Not because I didn't trust her, but because she had no clue what being in high school was really like. School sometimes was a battlefield. And despite having some friends and acquaintances, I wasn't one of the popular kids. I never really felt like I fully fit in there. Instead, I mostly felt like an outsider. But I couldn't tell my mother about it. I wouldn't even know where to start.

     I reached for another enchilada. My mother looked pleased. She thought I'd become too slender recently. Walking to school and hiking on the weekends kept me slim, despite my love of fast food and all things chocolate. My mother was supportive of my weekend hiking, but she really wanted me to participate in school sports. Thankfully she'd given up trying to convince me to try out for one of the teams. I hated the idea of team sports. It wasn't my thing.

      We all looked at Jason. He was acting out a funny story from his school day. Getting so into it that he was overwhelmed with laughter from time to time. I stroked Estella under the table. She had slinked up to me and was now circling my legs. I realized that I was happy. Free of the earlier angst I'd felt.

      The sense of well-being stayed with me as I finished my biology essay. Estella in her usual spot on my desk, purring her little head off.

      And later, lying in my bed, she was curled up next to my legs. I could feel her purring through the comforter, but I couldn't hear her. My headphones were already in my ears.

     I was listening to R.E.M. I loved bands from the eighties and nineties. Especially alternative bands. I loved them because their lyrics were poetic and less repetitive than the songs that were popular now. Even in my taste of music I was an outsider. But I didn't care. I cared only about the music doing its magic and sweeping me away.

     I wanted to leave behind the reality of school and my Derek Nash obsession. I wanted some peace. And the music was working. It was transporting me away from Bluffside. Away from everyone I knew.

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