A Good Gal In the Making.

Hedgehogs

"The hedgehog's dilemma, or sometimes the porcupine dilemma, is an analogy about the challenges of human intimacy. It describes a situation in which a group of hedgehogs all seek to become close to one another in order to share heat during cold weather. They must remain apart, however, as they cannot avoid hurting one another with their sharp spines.Though they all share the intention of a close reciprocal relationship, this may not occur, for reasons they cannot avoid.

Both Arthur Schopenhauer and Sigmund Freud have used this situation to describe what they feel is the state of individual in relation to others in society. The hedgehog's dilemma suggests that despite goodwill, human intimacy cannot occur without substantial mutual harm."

The monotonous voice from science class's documentary sounded, and for the first time, it had every ounce of my attention.

I couldn't help but think of Gaven, and Vicky, then back to Gaven. A swirlwind of emotions threatened to blow me apart. Confusion fogged my brain.

Answers. I need answers.

But how? With Vicky in a coma, I can only get stolen glimpses and torn pieces of the full picture.

I push the issue to the back of my mind and start thinking for excuses of why I was gone to tell mom when I get home.

I'll just tell her I spent the night in the hospital looking out for Vicky and that I couldn't call because my phone was dead. Brilliant.

The bell rings and I head to the door. In the hallway, the mean stares and "accidental" bumps commence. I'm the school-psycho, the neurotic.

I take a glance at myself, and I realize how trashed I look. At this point, I could be mistaken for a heroin addict. Tall, skinny, pale as a ghost, with the same amount of hygine as a dead cat. My long blonde hair that hang loosely around my waist fall so thin you'd think you can count them. I have on clothes make me look like a hobo. Maybe that's what's fascinating their narrow-minds. People are so easy to entertain.

I head home and take a shower. Mom isn't there, so I leave her a note and walk out. I need to clear my mind desperately. Then it hits me. I run to the "Proles".

The proles are a group of outcasts and dropouts who have built a shed by the dumpster river. What happens in that shed? Everything from making methamphetamines to hydroponic weed. The usual faces greet me with their usual smiles and grimaces. I take a small bag of hemp, and walk out. The shed might explode any second, it has happened once or twice before.

The proles, people of the shed, they're like family to me. They were the only ones that took me in after all my friends had gone. It was right after rumors started circulating around me. Then Vicky came along. She saved me from my addictions, and I owe her a huge deal for that.

Eccentric people, they are. But I'm more afraid of the ordinary people. The ones who are weird are those who act themselves. The ones who act ordinary are always the ones that have something to hide.

I go back to my room, load up a bong, and start a movie. I make sure I have enough munchies before I Iight it up.

A sound of stones tapping on glass reaches my ears, but I'm too lazy to get up now. A minute later, Gaven climbs up the window. On his way in, he steps on a half-empty beer bottle and falls face-first against concrete.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA Duuuuuuude, do that again." I could barely contain my laughter.

He stands up, dusts off, and gives me a mean stare. "I have to chop off your pinky now, you know."

"Oh no, mister. I made that pinky promise when we were still friends. We're not anymore. The promise is off. I'm keeping my pinky, and my other pinky." I say, giggling at how brutal a pinky promise is. The original story behind the pinky promise is that the one who breaks it gets his/her pinky chopped off.

"Fine" he sighs in exasperation. "You can stay here and get high all day while I get closer to debunking your mystery."

"God,Gaven, when did you graduate from Killjoy University." I mutter, laughing at my own lame joke.

He takes me by the hand, places me at the passenger seat in his car, and locks the door shut.

I notice a guy on a bike and start laughing so hard that tears swell up my eyes.

"What?" he asks with a smirk, clearly amused.

"Bicycles are like acoustic motorcycles man." I say through a series of broken breaths, interrupted by giggles.

"Yeah, just like cars are liberated trains." He smiles and gives my hair a playful tug.

"Where are you taking me?" It finally crosses my mind to ask.

"To Jail" he says, with a straight face. He can make anything sound like it's the most casual thing in the world.

"With me reeking of cannabis? No way! Do you want me to be sentenced for life?" A bad trip threatens to begin.

"We're going to break the news to Vicky's father." He says.

"Her mom can do that." I mutter. We both know that it isn't true. She never visits him, and neither does Vicky. He was alcoholic, and rather abusive.

Our encounter was brief, when we told him the news of his daughter's coma he gave a subtle nod. So precise that you'd miss it if you blink, and that was it. He's obviously still taking the wrath of silence way too seriously.

Disturbed, I ask Gaven if that was necessary. He said I sould wait and find out for myself.

We drive to the hospital to check up on Vicky. I see a strange man of about 50 years of age, holding her pale hand, looking deeply sad. He doesn't notice us, and leans closer to kiss her forehead then says "Forgive me, my beloved daughter. I know I'm not worthy for forgiveness, but you must wake, you must know the truth."

"Tell me that's a hallucination" I whisper towards Gaven.

He motions for me to keep it down, putting a finger to his mouth, then guides me down the aisles out of the hospital.

More questions are raised through my mind. Tangling, entertwinning, becoming a maze within themselves.

We decide to go seek answers from her mom. After two hours of knocking on the door we decide to leave. I ask Gaven to drop me at the hospital again, I need to see Vicky. A strange intuition urges me to.

When I get there, I got confronted with a swarm of doctors buzzing around with panic. I head to her room, and it looks like a crime had taken place. Police officers circulate Vicky's bed, obscuring my vision. I slip underneath the yellow film and sneak in, only to find an empty bed of where she sould have been.

Then suddenly, a police officer ties my hands behind my back, putting tight handcuffs on. Before I could utter a single word, he tells me I'm a kidnap suspect, and that I have the right to remain silent, and so I do.

The investigation goes smooth. Afterall, I'm innocent. Besides, I was with Gaven the whole time.

I try to tell them that Vicky's father was the last one in the room, but their counterargument remains more credible since the only father anyone knows of is the one in prison. After Gaven's statement is taken, I am left free to go. Well, almost free. I've been put on probation.

The only thing I'm concerned about is what to do with the weed. Throwing them away is not an option. Maybe I'll make hash brownies and devour the evidence.

I walk home, sneak in through my bedroom window to avoid any lectures from my folks, and crash my body down on bed.

I look to my right and my heart stops beating velvet red through my body. I know that at the moment, the composture of my circulatory system has more drugs than blood, but this is not a hallucination. Vicky's standing right there. I blink twice and rub my eyes.

"It's really me." She says with a grim smirk. "I've been waiting for you, Alex."

Author's Note:

Thanks for reading. Comment and vote please. Constructive criticism is most welcome.