Reflection: Chapter 4

Chapter Four

            As you can imagine, my hand immediately shot into the air. No, not really. It was kind of the opposite actually. Liz ended up being the first to volunteer, but even she was a bit reluctant. After Mandi shut the door on her, I could literally hear my own heart beating. She was in there for about 5 minutes before she came out with a nervous smile on her face and said, “No Mary.”

            Katie and Becca pretty much had the same response after they came out. Then Mandi looked at me. “Well,” she said, “are you going or not?” Then Jessica rolled her eyes, looked at me, and said, “You don’t have to do this. I haven’t even decided if I’m going to. Obviously it doesn’t even work.” After she said this, Mandi looked like she was about to bite off her own tongue.

            “You’re not going to do it? That’s the whole point of this party! You’ll have to leave if you refuse. It’s just not fair to my other guests.” With this, Jessica stood up, but I wasn’t about to stay here without her. “Wait Jess! If I go in…will you?” She waited a minute, looked at me, and said, “Sure…why not.” Mandi smiled as I rose from my spot on the floor.

 “Just say her name 3 times…it’s easy,” Liz whispered to me as I slipped into the bathroom. And right before she shut me in, Mandi whispered, “Just remember to shut your eyes after the final spin. If you see her, you die.” Then…darkness.

Well, that was comforting. I grabbed the matches I saw by the sink and started to light the candles that surrounded the mirror. I looked up and saw exactly what I had expected to see: my own reflection staring back at me. No one else. Okay, I thought, turn 3 times while saying the name. In the words of Professor Cadenza, this is bullshit. So why am I shaking?

I raised my gaze back to my reflection. “Bloody Mary.” I spun once, slowly, trying to get the feel of it. “Bloody Mary.” The second time I spun, I realized what an idiot I must look like. I wondered if the other girls actually did this or if they faked it. “Bloody Mary.” I was reluctant to spin the final time, so I did it quickly and forced myself to look in the mirror. Nothing. Just my own frightened reflection anticipating something that wasn’t real. And then, the candles blew out. Oh…my…God…

Well, I screamed bloody murder and the door opened to a very smug-looking Mandi. “What happened?” She asked in a mocking tone, “Did you see your reflection?” Katie snickered and then Becca punched her arm. I like Becca. I just ignored Mandi and went to sit between Jessica and Liz. “The candles went out,” I whispered to Jessica, “tell me that’s not creepy.”

“Well maybe you spun really fast the 3^rd time…” Jessica suggested, but when she saw the look on my face she said, “You’re right though, that is really creepy.”

“Hmm…well since Jessica doesn’t want to go in then I guess I’ll go next…” Mandi gave Jessica her most beautiful (cruel) smile. And of course, Jessica couldn’t resist. “Quit being such a bitch Mandi. I said I’d do it if Anna did, didn’t I? I’m true to my word.” And with that, Jessica stalked into the bathroom and shut the door. I felt proud to call myself her roommate. Mandi didn’t respond to the bitch comment, but then again, Jessica didn’t really give her a chance.

Liz turned to me and asked, “So…did you see her?” I knew who she was talking about, though I didn’t really know how I should answer her question.  I didn’t know if she was being serious or not. So instead of giving her a response, I asked, “Who?”

“Mary!” Liz whispered, looking strangely flushed. She looked at me with anticipation. “Why,” I asked, “did you see her?” Now it was Liz’s turn to look like she didn’t know how to answer. She’s got to be kidding. However, before I could say anything, we heard a blood-curdling scream come from the bathroom.

“Sounds like your roommate gets scared easily too, Anna.” Mandi sneered. However, this scream didn’t sound anything like my scream. It sounded like…like a strangled cry or…something…

“Jessica?” I said as I cautiously made my way to the bathroom door. “She always got scared easily at camp when we were younger,” Liz said. “Or…wait…maybe that was Sami…” I stopped looking at Liz and got closer to the door separating Jessica and me. “Jessica?” I called a little louder, my voice cracking a bit. I put my hand on the doorknob, pressed my ear against the wood, and listened for a moment. No sound came from inside. I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach…and my ears were stinging.

“She probably fainted!” Katie squealed and then Becca punched her arm again. I opened the door a crack and said her name softly, “Jessica?” And then…blackness.

***

The first thing I saw when I awoke was a blinding red light. Then the red turned to blue. It took me a minute for my mind to register where I was. A man in a black uniform was staring at me; he was a cop. Next to him stood a paramedic. I was lying down on a bed inside an ambulance.  I bolted upright…that was a mistake. A stabbing pain forced its way into my skull that made me shudder. As soon as I started to moan, I heard a deep voice to my right.

“Well that was stupid.” Johnny was leaning over me. “Wha…what happened? When did I hit my head?” Johnny’s first expression was one of confusion, and then that morphed into complete sadness. “I don’t really know if I can answer…” he started, but he was then interrupted by the cop on my left.

“What do you remember about tonight Miss Kirby?” His tone was threatening and interrogative. I started to sit up. “Careful! Come up slowly now.” This came from the paramedic leaning over me. I could tell from the sour expression on her face that she was annoyed with the officer standing next to her for questioning me while she was in the middle of her examination of my head. Although, refusing to lay down when I most likely have a concussion probably didn’t make her happy either. I decided to do what she said and come up with caution.

“Umm well…I was at a sleepover and…wait…what? How did I get here from…?” I stuttered and when I looked up I saw Katie and Becca. Katie was shaking while Becca just stared off into oblivion. Mandi and Liz were right next to them. Mandi was pacing nervously and wringing her fingers, but Liz…Liz was sobbing violently. She was planted on the ground, rocking back and forth, trying very hard to breathe steadily. There was an older woman holding her and trying to comfort her….maybe her mom.

“From where Miss Kirby? What do you remember about the sleepover you were at tonight?” The officer’s voice sounded like a faraway echo. There was only one person on my mind. And suddenly, I did remember the last place I was before I woke up in this parking lot…and I ran to it. Ignoring the cops making a grab for me, the paramedic’s and Johnny’s cries for me to come back, the hysterical people crowded around the building, and the stabbing pain that felt like it was cutting my head open, I broke open the doors and sprinted up the stairs to the 3^rd floor. I was at Mandi and Liz’s door in about 30 seconds. Tearing through the yellow caution tape, I made my way to the bathroom. I came across the same sight I found before I blacked out 3 hours earlier (I later found out). There, sprawled across the bathroom floor, lay a cold and lifeless Jessica.

Her once dark, shimmering skin was now pale and clammy. The mouth that used to welcome me with a kind and loving smile whenever I saw her was now frozen in the shape of an oval. Those beautiful dark eyes that lit up whenever I saw her were now in a fixed gaze, paralyzed with fear. Jessica had been sliced open in a vertical line starting from her chin to her navel. The once pearly white bathroom was now covered from ceiling to floor in crimson.

I wasn’t standing there long before the police on the scene grabbed me and dragged me outside. As soon as my gaze was forcibly ripped from Jessica’s horrified face, I seemed to come back to reality. Once I was in the hallway, I dropped to my knees and vomited. 

Reflection: Chapter 3

Chapter Three

            Well it took about 3 days before it seemed like Johnny was back to normal.  Oh, he forgave me as soon as I got a hold of him and apologized, but those were just words. Even though he said he was fine, he didn’t act like he was comfortable around me; especially when he was with both me AND Jessica. “So this is the famous Johnny,” she said the night she first met him when I missed dinner with him, “I’ve heard so much about you. I almost feel like I kind of know you already.”

            Johnny just gave her a half smile and said, “Well if you did actually know me then you’d know that my name is ‘John,’ not ‘Johnny.’ Anna is the only one who has ever called me ‘Johnny.’”

            Jessica looked astonished. Embarrassment doesn’t even begin to describe the way I felt at that moment. It reminded me so much of my first meeting with Mandi and I wanted to vomit. But instead of laughing it off with a nervous giggle like Liz did, I flat out punched him in the shoulder.

            “Ouch!” Johnny exclaimed and he started rubbing his injured shoulder. What a baby.

            “Quit acting like an immature child. Apologize…now.” I stared daggers into his face. I was NOT playing. Johnny just looked at me for a moment, sighed, then faced Jessica and said, “I’m sorry Jessica. That was very rude of me and I apologize. I guess I’m just jealous that Anna already found someone more interesting than me….Which I should have realized was inevitable. I’m not a very witty guy.”

            And, once again, I saw Johnny charm yet another female. I felt proud of him, that apology was way better than the one I got from Mandi…which was none. I honestly had no idea why she hated me so much. I have been nothing but nice to her. It didn’t take me long to realize that she was in Cadenza’s class with Johnny and me. She and Liz sat higher up in the back. After meeting a girl like her, it was kind of hard to miss her. Especially since she soon became the center of attention in that class.

            About 3 weeks after I had met her, Professor Cadenza was discussing urban legends. One of my favorites has always been the story of the known murderer on the loose with a hook for a hand. The story goes like this: two teenagers decide to go parking on top of a hill in the middle of nowhere. In the middle of some highly steamy, passionate kissing, the radio announcer interrupts the current rap song that’s playing for an emergency broadcast. Apparently a psychopathic serial killer with a hook for a hand had escaped from a nearby prison. This worries the girl, but the guy just wants to keep fooling around. However, the girl was too distracted to get back into it.

            So, with a heavy weight in his pants that wasn’t going away anytime soon, the boy walked out of the car to scope out the area. A very stupid idea in my opinion. Not that deciding to make out on a hill in the middle of the night near a local prison was a stroke of genius, but whatever. After a few minutes of being alone in the car, the girl started to hear scratching on the roof of the car. She was curious about what it was, but was too nervous to investigate. After about 5 more minutes of waiting on her boyfriend, she made up her mind and opened her car door. As soon as she did, the scraping sound got louder. What she saw when she looked on top of the car made her run screaming into the driver’s seat. Hanging above the car was her boyfriend, with a rope connected from a tree branch to his neck.  What she didn’t see, however, was that the other end of the rope was tied to the bumper of their car. Long story short, he died a painful death because his girlfriend flipped shit. When she got home to the safety of her neighborhood, there was a hook wedged into the car door on the passenger’s side. This story, and many others, was shared in Cadenza’s class that day.

            I don’t know what that particular story had to do with paranormal studies, but I wasn’t willing to argue the issue. However, before the class dismissed for the day, Mandi had a question to ask.

            “Professor Cadenza,” she started, “what about the legend of Bloody Mary?” Everyone stopped moving around as the familiar name registered in their minds. Cadenza looked around and didn’t seem surprised when he realized the question came from Mandi. “Well Amanda, what do you want to know about it?” I watched as everyone’s heads switched from the professor to Mandi. “Was she real?”

            Cadenza just shook his head. “There is no proof that such a person existed. There are legends based off quite a few Marys who lived in the past, but that’s all they are. Legends.” I thought that the issue had been dropped based on Cadenza’s last statement, but Mandi just couldn’t seem to let it go.

            “But sir, wasn’t Mary Worth a real person? Her body is buried in Jackson, Michigan.” The Cadenza just sighed and said, “If this is leading up to that ludicrous game of hers, then we had better end this conversation here and now.” I expected Mandi to give a polite, but clever comeback. Instead, with just the faintest trace of a smile on her face, she said, “Yes professor.” And with that, the conversation ended and class was dismissed.

For the rest of that day I was rather curious about Mandi’s odd inquiry about Bloody Mary. I myself had only heard about the legend a few years ago. All I knew about it was that if you say her name enough times while spinning in front of a bathroom mirror then her ghost haunts you, and, eventually, you die. I couldn’t understand Mandi’s interest in it. Personally, the thought of the ghost of a creepy little girl coming out of my bathroom mirror while I’m on the toilet or something, would scare the living shit out of me. So, you can imagine the utter joy I felt when Liz invited Jessica and me to her room for a “Bloody Mary ritual,” as she called it.

“Count me out.” My response came automatically, it required no thinking beforehand. Jessica glanced at me, then looked at Liz and said, “Just give us two seconds Lizzie.” Then Liz smiled and walked back to her room. After Jessica shut the door, she sent a glare my way. It wasn’t as extreme as the one she always gave to Mandi, but it still hurt. “Fine,” I sighed, “Whatever. Let’s pack.”

That night my stomach was in a bundle of knots. Jessica, on the other hand, was ecstatic. All she could talk about from the moment I said yes, until right when we got up to Liz’s door, was the slumber party. “We’ll stay up all night, we’ll talk about boys, we’ll stuff our faces, we’ll make prank phone calls, we’ll do each other’s hair and makeup…” and all that jazz. The only image that I had in my head about tonight, however, was a little girl floating out of the medicine cabinet and strangling me. I also wasn’t too keen on the fact that I would be spending the night in the same room as Mandi. I had a hard time trying to decide who frightened me more; Mary or Mandi. However, there was no going back now.

 Liz answered the door as soon as Jessica put her fist up against it. I thought that our rooms were kind of big, but with six girls in one room, I felt eerily claustrophobic. Aside from Jessica, Liz, Mandi, and myself, I was introduced to two of Mandi’s friends. Katie and Becca were both gorgeous brunettes who were on the volleyball team as well. Too bad they were as dumb as a post. One post, mind you, not two.

I found this out after talking with them about their travels around the world. You know how most people know that First Class is first, and then there’s business, then coach? Yeah…well...they didn’t. “So, I went to Italy this past summer with Becca,” Katie started, “and I have to say that First Class is starting to get shabby.”

“You normally ride first class?” I asked. “Well of course,” Becca answered, “we’re not gonna cough up all that extra money for Coach. We’re college students after all.” At first I laughed, but quickly shut myself up when I saw Liz roll her eyes at her friends and Jessica cover her smile with her hand and turn away. That’s when I realized they were serious, and they were such sweet girls that I didn’t have the heart to tell them they had it backwards. And then, to change the subject I suppose, Mandi turned out the lights, lit her face up with a flashlight, and said, “Let the games begin.”

Then we all huddled together while Mandi informed us of the story of Bloody Mary. “The legend of Mary Worth in Jackson, Michigan goes like this: Once upon a time there was a little girl named Mary. She was about 11 years old when she became deathly ill with scarlet fever. One night, her mother tried to rouse her, but she wouldn’t wake up. Everyone believed her to be dead. So, they buried her with a piece of string tied to her wrist that was connected to a bell right above her grave. It had been rumored around town that victims of scarlet fever had been buried alive because they gave off the impression of being dead. The night they buried Mary, everything was quiet and still. Around 3:00 in the morning, Mary’s parents fell into a fitful sleep. When her father awoke, he realized he overslept, and ran out of the cottage to his daughter’s fresh grave. What he found there made his heart stop. The bell post had fallen over. With no shovel nearby, Mary’s father frantically started digging away the dirt with his bare hands. When he finally got down to her coffin he pulled open the wooden latch, and dropped to his knees from the horror in front of him. He had found Mary with her hands in front of her, a frozen look of panic on her pale face, nails peeled off and bloody from scratching the top of her coffin. The legend is that if you say “Bloody Mary” in front of a bathroom mirror, with no light but candles, three times and spin each time, Mary appears to you when you make the final spin…and kills you. And she doesn’t just kill you, she butchers you.” During the course of this story, I had somehow managed to crush Jessica’s hand in my sweaty one. “So,” said Mandi in a terrifying voice, pointing the flashlight towards the bathroom, “who’s first?”

Reflection: Chapter 2

Chapter Two

            “I bet that all of you here assume that you know a thing or two about ghosts due to all the paranormal shows you watch on television. Well I’m here to tell you…that’s all bullshit.” Professor Cadenza’s voice heavily accented voice rang out inside the wide classroom.

            The first day in this paranormal studies class and I already feel intimidated. There are some strikingly similar features between the professor and his daughter. They both have the same dark eyes and skin, and even with a touch of distinguished gray running through it, his hair color was as black as night…as black as hers. The one main difference between the two, aside from their extremely different accents, is their conflicting personalities.

            When I first met Jessica, I immediately felt at ease by her smiles and friendliness. Her father, however, isn’t doing so hot in the impression department. I took my gaze off the professor at the front of the room and looked around at my fellow 50-something classmates. By judging the expressions on their faces, I was able to divide them into 3 groups. One-third of them were the Nubes, or the “generally interested” category. With their butts on the edge of their seats, eyes glued to the front, pen/pencil in hand writing down every last word that came out of Cadenza’s mouth. The other third of my classmates were the Snoozers: “bored out of their mind” category. Their eyes were down to half-slits, some of those eyes found the wall behind him much more interesting than the professor himself. Yawns were spreading as quick as the plague and some of the Nubies even caught it, unawares. And the last third of the population that made up that classroom were the Yellow-Bellies. This was the group that looked like they’d pee their pants at the drop of a hat. Sitting there with their wide eyes and shaking hands like they were just figuring out that this wasn’t Pottery Making 101…this guy was talking about GHOSTS! And what category do I fall into? Well you can just call me a Yellow-Bellied-Snoozing-Nube, because I believe I fall into all 3. Especially with a professor like Cadenza.

            “That trash you call ‘entertainment’ is nothing but a group of idiots looking for 15 minutes of fame. You joined this class because you wanted to learn about the supernatural right?” Mixture of indifferent, incoherent mumblings erupts. “Well I’m here to shield your young minds from that petty  mumbo-jumbo on those ghost shows. I’m here to teach you the facts. The true experiments and studies that real scientists have put together for us. They are called parapsychologists, not ‘ghost catchers’ or whatever kind of bullshit the media is feeding you.” He really likes that word.

            I glanced around again, and for about the 5^th time, thought about the fact that Jessica wasn’t in this class. Since it was fairly new, there were only 2 times available; 7:30am and 12:15pm. Unless Jessica is the ray of sunshine she turns into after she gets her morning coffee, which she is so NOT, she isn’t taking her daddy’s class. There could be many reasons for this: 1)she isn’t interested in the paranormal 2)she doesn’t get along with her father 3)her schedule was already filled up, and so on. Whichever the reason, it’s none of my business. Still, my mind prefers to stay on that topic rather than listen to Cadenza ramble on about ‘glory-seeking dickwads.’ His words not mine. And his lecture pretty much consisted of that and not much else that first day, I’m afraid.

            “Well that was…interesting,” Johnny muttered as we shuffled our way out the door. “Why did I let you talk me into taking this class again?” I asked as I leaned against the wall so I could massage my feet. Breaking in new shoes on the first day of classes, not one of my brightest ideas. But hey, Jessica bought them for me. I thought it appropriate to wear them on the first day in her dad’s class. Again, bad choice.

            “Awe come on. It’s just the first day. Besides, it’s the only class you have with me. That’s your deal breaker right there.” He could be so full of himself sometimes. And, as if to prove his point, he knelt down to care for my aching feet. I really don’t deserve him.

            “You wanna go grab a late lunch with me in the dining hall?” As my stomach let out a very un-ladylike sound, that sounded marvelous to me. But then I remembered something. “I’m sorry, I promised Jessica that I would help her with her sheet music. She’s auditioning for choir tomorrow morning.” I really was sorry, but for a fraction of a second, I thought I saw a flicker of anger in his eyes. But it disappeared just as quickly as it had arrived when he said, “Oh yeah I remember you telling me about that. It’s cool, just save your dinner card for me alright?” I smiled, “Always.”

            His face lit up and I completely forgot about that random rush of jealousy I saw and felt…if that was even what it was. I loved making him happy. We parted ways at the dining hall and I made my way to the music center. Jessica was there waiting for me, looking like a child at their first visit to the dentist. I had no earthly idea what she could be worried about. She literally had the voice of an angel. What with her being a fan of singing in the shower, I’ve been able to hear a sample of her work. The second morning of us living here together, I heard her sing a version of Rufus Wainwright’s “Hallelujah” that made me burst into tears.

            Today she was going to practice singing Judy Garland’s classic, “Over the Rainbow.” We’ve only lived together for about a week, but in that time we’ve managed to watch The Wizard of Oz so often that the sidewalk outside is starting to morph into yellow bricks. As soon as Jessica saw me, her eyes screamed “help!” I knew my cue when I saw it.

            For the next hour and a half I heard a mixture of, “was that on key,” “did that part sound flat to you,” and the ever popular, “is this the right song for me?” But what made it all worthwhile, was the music itself. I loved hearing her voice and I told her so. She thought I was putting her on and I wanted to smack some sense into her. Honestly, she was her worst critic. After what seemed like forever, we finally made our way back to the dorm. But just as I was thinking about taking a nap or getting something to nibble on before dinner, I see a girl waiting outside our door. She was taller than Jessica and me, probably by a few inches. With her golden blonde wavy hair, bright blue eyes, and olive skin tone, she reminded me of a modern day Sleeping Beauty. She even had the full red lips that parted to make way for a brilliant smile that captured me as soon as she saw us.

            “Jessi!” She exclaimed and ran over to hug my roommate. Jessica seemed just as shocked as I was, but shock quickly turned into sheer joy as soon as she registered “Briar Rose’s” face in her mind. “Oh..my..God! Lizzie! I haven’t seen you in forever!” Jessica called out as she clung to her friend for dear life. I’m not gonna lie, I kind of felt like an idiot just standing there awkwardly while they held each other. Jessica must have noticed because she sort of broke away, but just enough to where she was still holding hands with her, and said, “Oh I’m so sorry! I’m being so rude. Lizzie, this is my roommate, Anna Kirby. And Anna, this is my best friend ever since cheerleading camp in the 6^th grade, Elizabeth Carter!”

            “You can call me Liz,” she said, “Elizabeth is reserved for my mother.” She took my hand in hers and her grip was even firmer than Jessica’s, so much in fact that it hurt a bit. “It’s nice to meet you Liz. So you’re a cheerleader?” I don’t know why that was the first question I decided to ask, but it was out before I could stop it. She just let out a breathy laugh and said, “Oh as if! The only thing good that came out of cheerleading was meeting Jessi! But she got into her music and I got into volleyball…,” that explained the grip, “Cheerleading was too stressful and time consuming, and to be honest, one too many lesbians for my taste.” At this, she and Jessica both burst into hysterics at the seemingly uncomfortable memories from camp.

            “Haha wow, I never would have guessed,” I said. Actually, it was kind of obvious to me if the girls at that camp were anything like the cheerleaders back home. Meagan Baxter, the head cheerleader in the 10^th grade, invited me to a slumber party she was having. Now, don’t get me wrong. Not all the girls on the squad were gay, not even half. But they sure did like to have what they called “sexy parties.” That night is still a sore spot with me.

            “Do you wanna come in Liz?” Jessica asked. “We were just about to go in and have some downtime. Anna was just helping me work on my choir audition piece for tomorrow.” With that, Jessica flashed me a smile, and I didn’t feel much like an outsider anymore. Then Liz said, “Oh I would love to, but I only came by to say hello. I’m on my way over to the library to meet my roommate and help her study. Do you guys wanna come?”

            Jessica looked at me hopefully and I knew what she was thinking. She wasn’t going to go if I didn’t want to, and I could tell she really wanted to go. Ah…what the heck, my stomach could wait. “Sure,” I said, “just let me put my bag away real fast.”

            “No problem,” Liz said. And as I unlocked the door, she and Jessica were already starting some deep conversation. It didn’t take me long to pass through the living area and drop off my bag in my room, but soon I realized that I was taking a little too long admiring my soft, welcoming bed. I shook my head and thought, if my stomach could wait, sleep certainly could. After all, that was what nighttime was for right?

            As soon as I let them know I was ready to go, Liz lead the way…but not before linking arms with Jessica. Of course. I know that they didn’t mean to exclude me, they were just catching up with each other, but I couldn’t help feeling like the 3^rd wheel. All the more reason for my excitement about meeting Liz’s roommate. Hopefully she knows as little about Jessica as I do about Liz. That would be a relief.

            As we neared the library I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. This was followed by an odd sensation in my ears. Not a tingle, but more like a stinging. I haven’t felt a stinging in my ears since my Gammy died when I was 12. Suddenly I wasn’t so excited about meeting this new roommate, but it was too late to turn back now.

            When we entered the library, Liz made a beeline for the first table by the window. Jessica and I had to basically power walk it in order to keep up with her without running. Right when we got to the table, Liz whispered, “Mandi, this is my friend I told you about, Jessica, and her roommate, Anna. Jessica and Anna, this is my roommate, Mandi Mills.” I looked at the figure leaning over some psychology book right as she raised her head. If I thought that Jessica and Liz were beautiful, Mandi was a goddess. Shiny red hair with thick wavy curls cascading down to her collar bone (just like in the shampoo commercials), fair skin (like me), just a hint of freckles around her nose and cheekbones, and the most intense green eyes I had ever seen. Too bad her looks completely misled me from what lay underneath. She realized that I was staring at her.

            “What are you looking at?” she sneered. I hadn’t realized that I’d been gawking at her. “Oh…uh…hm…sorry,” I stumbled. Smooth. “It’s nice to meet you.” She just rolled her eyes and focused her attention back to the book in her hands. And then, like a voice from the heavens, Jessica spoke up. “I don’t believe that qualifies as a response. My friend may have just lied to your face, but she did it to be polite. The least you could possibly do is make eye contact and manage to crack a smile.” She didn’t whisper that either. The room became so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. The tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. I could go on like this forever.

            To my utter astonishment, Mandi looked amused. Then she tore her gaze from Jessica, bore those eyes directly into my skull, put on one of the most beautiful smiles I have ever seen, and said, “Nice to meet you too,” with so much sarcasm it made me sick. Then she firmly closed her book, stood up (I discovered that she was probably as tall as Liz, if not taller), and walked out of the library. After a moment, Liz said, “Well…she has PMS.” Jessica and I looked away from the library exit and moved our gaze to Liz. “Sorry, Mandi is sort of…an acquired taste. Her bark is worse than her bite.”

            For the next two hours, I got to know Liz and was really glad I did. Any fears I may have had about her driving a wedge between Jessica and myself were laid to rest as time flew by. I learned that she loved old movies, vintage jewelry and antiques, and that she had a boyfriend in France. She said she met him online 2 years ago. While this made me nervous, I realized I wouldn’t feel that way unless I was forming a bond with her, which I was. Mandi never came back into the library, and if she did, I couldn’t care less. I don’t know what it was that crawled up her butt and died, but I didn’t want to be anywhere near that.

            We were all getting a little sleepy, so we decided to walk over to the Starbucks on campus and get a pick-me-up. My usual was mint chocolate chip. Both Jessica and Liz were strawberries & crème girls. I should have known. While we were chatting it up in an environment of wannabe writers on their fancy laptops, Jessica’s stomach started rumbling. “Wow…I forgot how hungry I was. I haven’t eaten since breakfast,” she said. And then it hit me. “Oh…my…God…” I stammered.

            “What?” Liz inquired. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I sprinted the whole way to my dorm, scrambled for the right key on my chain, and burst into the room. As I made my way to my bag and sifted through the junk inside, I wondered how bad it could be. When I finally reached my phone, I took it out and flipped it open. Five text messages and three missed calls. All from Johnny. Oh…shit.

The Color Yellow

Sour you may call me. Bitter you may call me. But the fact of the matter is, you love me. All of you do, whether you are willing to admit it or not. You have wedges of myself and my brethren everywhere imaginable. For example, many of you find my refreshing in a chilled glass of water, or iced tea, or any beverage of choice really. You've also made a beverage OUT of me. You sell me at homemade stands in front of your house during the summer time, with signs made by 8 year olds that look like they were illustrated by 2 year olds. No one truly understands what we go through for some people. Lemon drops are made from our extract. Think about that. OUR EXTRACT. Disgusting isn't it? Well maybe in the future you will think twice about the lemon in your water, choose to take a cherry cough drop instead, or put down that glass of lemonade. You'd be better off drinking pee.

Sorry it was so short 'Mione I really need to go to bed. Love you:)

I Prefer the term "Collector"

Personally, I'm not one to go changing myself to please others. I am a very opinionated person who goes by his own set of rules. I have always been like this. It may have gotten me into trouble with my parents and other adults while I was growing up, but I was never disrespectful in any way. At least, I tried not to be. But I did have a very close relationship with my dad! The thing he loved most in this world (aside from mom and me) was collecting model airplanes. He LOVED them. He actually got me into the hobby. I loved that he trusted me to be down there in the basement with him, helping him restore those amazing pieces of art back to their former glory. It made me feel proud to be his son. However, one day Billy Markowitz came over and wanted to see the basement. I told him we could only be down there for a few minutes because I wasn't supposed to be in there when my dad wasn't home. Billy promised, but of course he only did that so I would agree to let him down there. I soon as I opened the door her made a beeline for an airplane. Then I heard a sound that still chills my spine to the very day, dad's boots on the kitchen floor as the front door opens and shuts. Apparently Billy knew my dad was home too because he tried to make a U-turn and knocked 3 planes in a row to the floor. As you can imagine, my dad's world basically ended, as did my relationship with him. Those planes were passed down in his family generation after generation. I was whipped within an inch of my life that night, as was Billy. I still love my dad, even though he cut off contact with me for the past 20 years. I still look up to him, or the memory of him at least. I started collecting planes of my own, then that turned into, ships in bottles, which turned into tanks, which turned into baseball cards, which turned into baseballs, which turned into balls of every kind...you get the picture? So one day I come home and as I go through the daily routine of kicking the door in and stepping around the pile of saddles right by my front door, I see my mom and an elderly woman sitting on top of my unopened tvs in my living room (which I have sorta been using as furniture). They were having some kind of intervention. Can you believe it? How can you have an intervention with 2 people? My mom told me that she was worried about me and my health. I told her I was fine. The therapist told me that my home wasn't a healthy environment and that I was a "hoarder." I told her to put a cork in it. My mom told me that she thought I was a hoarder too and that dad was worried about me. It was the first time I'd ever heard such a direct lie pass from my mother's lips. So I told her what dad told her when he first started with the airplanes, "I prefer the term 'collector.'"

For my beloved 'Mione:)

Just Imagine

"Cynthia! Come on! You're almost there! Hurry!" Callie called out as she made her brunette barbie run towards the blonde one. While Callie was in her own world inside her hot pink dream tent, in the middle of her bedroom, the storm of the year raged outside her bedroom window. Callie was always the brave, creative one out of her sisters. While Briana and Kelly cowered under the blankets in between their mom and dad, Callie was playing with her dolls. "Cynthia!" Barbie called. "You have to beat the water! It'll wash you away! You'll be carried to Sunrise Falls!" Callie positioned Barbie to where her arms were in front of her face and gave the impression that she was crying. Cynthia calls out, "Go on without me Barbie! I didn't break the world record on the stairmaster like you did! My legs won't carry me any further...tell Ken that I've always loved him!" And with that, Callie rolled Cynthia across the floor to her "untimely death." Callie was just about to scream Barbie's response, when a flash of lightening and a loud bang of thunder shook the entire room and forced a real scream out of her. Callie dropped Barbie and moved deeper into the tent, farther away from the window. She brought her knees up to her chest, closed her eyes, and rested her head on her kneecaps. As the storm continued on without any sign of ceasing, Callie imagined she was on a beach in Hawaii. She was her her favorite swimsuit, the white one with the red polka dots. It made her semi-tan skin look nearly brown and the sun made her dirty blonde locks look like rays of gold. Callie could feel the sun on her face and the spray of the sea as the waves crashed on the shore. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder. Normally, this would have startled her, but she almost seemed to have expected it. She raised her head and saw her Grandma beaming down at her. Callie patted the ground next to her and her grandmother took a seat. They just sat there next to each other in a loving silence as they watched the movements of the sea. Then Callie's grandma pulled out a brand new Barbie from behind her back. It was the same one Callie had been playing with in the tent in her room. It was in mint condition, with the original outfit and everything! Callie hugged her grandmother and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Then she layed her head in her grandma's lap and went to sleep. This was the 3rd night that Callie has had this dream. When she will awake in the morning, she will find that the storm has passed and a new day has arrived. And for the 3rd day in a row, Callie will pick up the picture of her standing next to her grandma in front of her house in Hawaii. Then she will think back to 3 days ago on her last trip to that wonderful place and how it was for a very sad event. The event of her grandma's funeral. Then Callie, for the 3rd time, will sit at the foot of the bed with the picture clutched to her chest, and cry until it seems she has no more tears left.

This is for whoever gave me the prompt "write about a stormy day and building forts inside. whatever age of person you wish." I hope you liked it.

My Dad, the Machine

I don't know what else to call him. He raised me and has taken care of me since I was 2 years old. Roberto is one of the last of his kind. He thought that if he adopted a human child, and raised it as his own, then maybe it would grow up respecting his fellow machine and maybe even mating with one some day. He was wrong. I do NOT have a relationship with my father. In fact, calling him "dad" or "father" is the highest sign of respect I shall ever show to that thing. He may have fed me, clothed me, took me to the doctor when I was sick. But the fact of the matter is that he has deprived me of the one thing I have always wanted. LOVE. Robots are incapable of love. It really isn't their fault. They are heaps of metal piled together created by human hands. God's creatures are capable of love, and that does not include metal. I know I shouldn't hate him for this, but I do. I can't help it. I'm irrational. I'm selfish. I need compassion. I need understanding. I'm HUMAN. Therefore, I need human parents. All I know about my biological mother and father was that they had me when they were 16 and as soon as I popped out of my mother's womb, I was in the care of the state. Up until my 2nd birthday, I lived with a bunch of nuns. I don't remember much of my life before I was 2, but I have one memory of a nun smiling down at me in my crib and singing to me. I assume now that she was singing about Jesus watching over me or something, but at the time it was just soothing noise. At least I felt love from an adult at one point in my life. All my dad ever says is..."bee bop food" (sets food in front of me) "bee bop sleep" (points to my room) "bee bop school" (hands me my backpack). How much can a boy take?! Everyone says that teenagers go through a stage where they stop showing emotion towards their parents and are repulsed by hugs and kisses. I never went through the hugs and kisses stage, so all I crave is love. I guess I'm not very good at being a teenager.

This is for whoever gave me the prompt "write about a boy who is raised by a robot". I hope you enjoyed it.

Reflection: Chapter One

“Anna calm down. Take a deep breath. Where was the last place you remember having it?”  My mom could sense my freak-out bubbling just below the surface and she’s right. I’ve been rummaging through the box marked Toiletries, the box marked Clothes, the box marked Books, and just about every box I took with me seems to be missing my most prized possession.

            “Mom, if I knew where I had it last, do you really think I would be probing through all this crap trying to find it?” I know that the anger and hostility in my voice was unnecessary, but I couldn’t help it. I hate it when people ask me questions like that.

            “Well, I’m sorry Anna but you lose things all the time! I’m worried about how you’re going to function here, on your own.” She gestured to my dorm room with all its orange and white, OSU paraphernalia. I stopped flipping through my copy of Bram Stoker’s Dracula to see if I had somehow used it as a bookmark, and looked up at my mother. When her eyes met mine, I saw them start to well up with tears, and I sighed.

            “Mom I’m going to be just fine. You can trust me.” I walked over to her, wrapped my arms around her, and waited until she stopped shaking before I said, “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I love you and I promise to visit as often as I can.” She patted my back and looked into my eyes. It felt like she was looking through to my soul, just like she did when I was little and she wanted to figure out if I was being truthful.

            “Alright,” she said, “well let’s see if we can find that necklace of yours hmm? I’ll go see if it might have fallen out of one of these boxes and into the car.” With that, she walked out the door, and everything was fine. That was mom.

            I went back to looking through my boxes, not really expecting to find my necklace since it wasn’t there the first 7 times I checked. Then I heard a knock at my door and before I could turn around, an all too familiar voice filled my tiny dorm and said, “Hey gorgeous, need any help unpacking?” I couldn’t help but smile as I turned to face my best friend for the last 10 years of my life. Johnny stood there looking as handsome as ever with his thick dirty-blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, Harry Potter-framed glasses, Jack Skellington t-shirt, and ripped jeans.

            “Sure that’d be great, thanks Johnny.” As he walked in I realized he was going to figure out that I wasn’t wearing it; the necklace. I noticed that he had his where he always had it, the left side of that blue heart I knew so well, hanging right there over his own heart. It touched me that he wore it all the time, even when he went surfing. The only things he wore above his waist when he caught some waves were his glasses and that necklace. Once he almost lost his glasses to the surf and I asked him why he didn’t get contacts? He just shrugged his shoulders and said, “Well, I’m afraid that you wouldn’t find me as attractive without my Harry Potter frames.” I was speechless. Then he gave me that wink and crooked smile of his as he went to grab some more tanning lotion. He never ceased to amaze me.

            I was jolted back into the present when I looked over and saw Johnny stack all my books in alphabetical order by title, not by the author. He knows me so well, sometimes it’s scary. Then I saw it, the blue speck of the right half of the heart he gave me on our 2^nd year anniversary of being friends. On the day he gave it to me, they were serving pizza in the lunch line. Pizza day was by far the best day of the week. I had just sat down with my tray, across from Johnny, when he reminded me that I forgot my free cookie. Did I forget the mention that everyone is entitled to one free cookie on Pizza day? Well, hence the awesomeness. When I got back to my seat, draped over my pepperoni pizza were two halves of a blue heart; when put together, the halves read Best Friends.

            “Happy anniversary,” Johnny said with a geeky smile on his face. It’s one of my favorite memories of all time. To this day the right side of that heart, the part I decided to keep, has been my most prized possession. And there it was, sticking out from under the bookshelf Johnny was organizing. I bent down slowly to keep him from noticing what I was doing, but apparently it didn’t work. Just as I wrapped my fingers around the broken heart, I heard his voice above me say, “Are you trying to seduce me Mrs. Robinson?”

            As I stealthily slipped the necklace into my jean pocket, I couldn’t help but blush as I said, “Ha-ha very funny. And if I was trying to seduce you, you’d know it.” As soon as I’d said it, I wished I hadn’t. It’s just been so hard to prevent myself from flirting with Johnny lately. Just then his smile turned seductive and oddly dangerous as he said, “Who are you and what have you done with my Anna? And how long will you be staying…?” Then he gave me the infamous wink and I couldn’t help but let out a giggle. “Oh, shut up smartass and help me move some of these boxes out of the way.”

            “Well…I tried,” he sighed and lifted the empty box that, at one point, held my massive book collection out into the hallway. I took this opportunity to slip into the bathroom and restore my necklace to its proper place.

Johnny was in love with me. He told me so on my 16^th birthday.

            “I love your smile, the sound of your laugh, and the way your eyes light up when you watch The Notebook for the umpteenth time.” One night he indulged me and my sick obsession with that movie by lying out in the middle of a seemingly empty street with me. “I wouldn’t budge for an oncoming truck if it meant that I could lie here with you for just a minute longer.” I found this unbelievably sweet, if not a little morbid, but that’s my Johnny. When he confessed his feelings to me, he told me not to worry about giving him an answer right away. He didn’t want things to become uncomfortable between us, but he had to make sure I knew what was in his heart.

            “My heart is yours. Whether you want it or not, it will always belong to you.” I told him that I valued our friendship too much to risk a romantic relationship. He said he understood, and I believed he meant it. And yet, I still feel like a cowardly jackass. I have been head over heels in love with this guy since the first day I met him, but I’m too chicken to come out and say it to his face. I’m just so afraid that if I was in a relationship with him, I’d screw it up just like I did with every other guy I’ve dated (which haven’t been many). Aside from my mom, Johnny is the only constant thing in my life. I need him so much that it scares me. I hate him for making me love him so much!

            I could hear the ‘man of my dreams’ making his way back into my room for more empty boxes. As I turned out the light to the bathroom and made my way into the living area, necklace in place, he said, “Hey have you signed up for all of your classes yet?” I thought it was an odd change of subject, but said, “No actually. All I have left is to choose a type of social science class. I’m probably going to end up taking psychology or something.” His eyes lit up as he said, “Well that’s the whole reason I’m asking! You know, we haven’t had a class together since the 3^rd grade. I just signed up for a class that’s new and I wanted to know if you would take it with me?” I was intrigued. “What’s the class?” I asked.

            “Paranormal studies; it’s taught by a Professor Cadenza. It sounded really interesting to me and I thought you’d like to have it as an option.” I’ve never heard of a paranormal studies class, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t interested. “Okay Johnny, it sounds pretty cool.”

            “Really?” Johnny asked, with his big, ocean blue eyes. “Yes!” I laughed as he hooted and gave me a tight hug that lifted me off the ground a little bit. It was strange that he got so excited over a class, but I didn’t think much of it. At that moment my mom walked in saying, “I’m sorry Anna, I just can’t seem to find…” she looked up to find me in Johnny’s arms and I watched a smile slowly creep across her face. “Am I interrupting something?” She asked. “No Ms. Kirby,” he flashed my mom that dazzling smile of his, “I was actually just on my way out. I’ve got a lot of unpacking to do myself, and this one has been hogging me long enough.” He gestured to me and, and of course, mom thought that was hilarious. The only other woman on the planet that could possibly be capable of loving Johnny more than me, was my mother.

            “Always nice seeing you Ms. Kirby,” he gave her a kiss on the cheek and she started giggling like an idiot. See the resemblance? “Bye hun, text me.” He kissed me on the cheek as well and walked out into the hallway.

            After a moment of silence, my mother found her voice, “Now why is it that you two aren’t together yet?” My mom asked me this for the 50^th time. “Don’t start with me mom,” I warned and she, graciously, changed the subject. “I believe I just met your roommate while walking up here. I’m going to head back to the hotel and get some dinner so that you two can get better acquainted.” Smiling, I said, “Sounds like a good plan mom. I’ll have breakfast with you tomorrow before you drive home.” She gave me a sad smile and said, “Okay, just be sure to call me tonight and tell me all about your roommate…AND that you settled in alright.” Laughing, and guiding her gently to the door, I said, “It’s at the top of my list mom, I promise. I love you. I’ll call you tonight.”

            “I’m going to hold you to that. Love you too sweetie.” She kissed my cheek and then walked out into the hallway; a bit reluctantly I regret to say. The drive back to Tampa will be hard on her, I thought, but she’ll get used to me being gone. Max will keep her entertained. The thought of Max made me want to cry. Thirteen years is a long time for a dog to be alive, and his age definitely shows. I’d hate to think of him passing away on me while I’m about 3 states away from him. To keep myself from staying on that unpleasant thought any longer, I continued unpacking my last box. It contained just basic items: pictures, school supplies, a few extra clothes I couldn’t fit into the box with my other outfits. And right after I set the last empty box aside, my new roommate walks in.

            My first impression of her is that she’s very eccentric. Jet-black hair streaming down to her mid-back, and it was as straight as a homophobe. She had very dark skin and eyes, which complimented her pearly white teeth that I got to see due to the fact that she had a very warm smile directed right at me as she walked in. She wore a teal blue v-neck shirt and a black mini skirt that came about mid-thigh, which proudly showed off her toned legs. I looked down at my own baggy jean shorts with the ripped pockets and my white I heart Florida t-shirt; I felt frumpy next to her.

            “Well hey there,” she grinned, “you must be my new roommate.” Pretty and smart. She had a slight twang in her voice and I figured that even though she looked Columbian, she was most likely from around here. “You would be correct. Nice to meet you, I’m Anna Kirby.” I returned her smile easily. She had a very positive energy circulating her. “Anna? That’s beautiful! My mother’s name is Anna.” She exclaimed. “No kidding?” I asked. “Scouts’ Honor,” she answered with her pointer finger and middle finger pointing up, “you a freshman?”

            “Is it that obvious?” I asked with a nervous smile. “Well you just have that eager look in your eyes, that’s all. I remember that look staring right back at me every morning in the bathroom mirror my first month here. I’m a sophomore, music major. You?” She asked.

            Music. That sounds amazing. “I’m going into nursing,” I replied. She looked at me with all smiles and said, “Aw you seem like you’d be a good nurse. You’ve got the face for it…” She must have seen the expression on my face because she said, “I’m sorry I tend to overwhelm people with all my questions. I guess I just get a little overexcited at meeting new people.”

            “There’s no need to apologize,” I said, “I’m excited too! You seem very sweet.” I thought I was going to go blind from the beams of light that her teeth were sending my way. Her teeth were probably whiter than my skin, and that’s saying something. But I was speaking truthfully; I had a feeling we were going to be good friends. And a very strong feeling at that; my ears were tingling. “I’m sorry,” I started, “I don’t think I caught your name…?”

            When I said this, she mimicked that popular motion people do on those V-8 commercials. You know, when they smack their open palm against their forehead. “Oh, there I go again getting ahead of myself. Where are my manners? I’m sorry Anna. My name is Jessica. Jessica Cadenza,” and she shook my hand firmly. Cadenza. Well, that’s interesting.

Reflection: Prologue

Prologue

            “Anna! Why are you still in bed? You’re gonna be late!” My mother’s shrill voice filled my tiny bedroom, announcing that school was, once again, about to start. I stole a glance at my alarm clock, 6:30am. As usual, my mom was over exaggerating. I smiled when the smell of breakfast hit my nose, and drooled a little at the sound of bacon sizzling as it hit the frying pan. Untangling myself from my pink and purple polka-dot bed cover, I threw on my Powerpuff Girls t-shirt and my jean skirt. Mom would help me with my hair before it was time to leave. Then I glided down the stairs in a much better mood than the one I was in when I first woke up.

Today is the first day of 3^rd grade…and my ears are tingling. I could not be in a better mood. On my 5^th birthday, the day I got my puppy Max, my ears tingled. The day my mom surprised me by taking me out of school in the 1^st grade to see Anastasia on Ice, my ears tingled. When the ears tingle, it’s a good sign. However, sometimes I mistake tingling with tiny pain. I felt a little sting in my ears the morning my mom checked into the hospital to give birth. But instead of bringing home my baby brother, she came back with so many tears that I thought she would never be happy again. I felt that same pain in my ears when, after years of screaming at each other, my parents sat me down and told me they were getting a divorce. So, long story short; ear-tingling is good, ear-stinging is bad. I’ve never been able to explain the sensation to anyone, but there it is.

Breakfast and the walk out to the bus was a blur, but I was almost sure that my ears were tingling and not stinging. And I knew that I was right when the bus driver sat me next to Johnny. He had dirty-blonde, messy hair, cute little Harry Potter-framed glasses, and the clearest, crystal blue eyes I had ever seen. When he looked up at me and smiled, I could feel my heart slowly melting. “Hi,” he said, “my name is John Way. And if you say ‘no way,’ you can forget about sitting next to me.” Then he winked. I laughed and said, “Well then I won’t say that.” Not the cleverest thing I’ve ever said, but then he patted the spot next to him and I forgot everything. We got to talking and once we were at school, we realized we were both in Mrs. Cooper’s class. By the end of the day, I was saying his name wrong so often that he decided I was the only one he would allow to call him that; Johnny. When I got home that afternoon, there was no doubt in my mind. This morning, my ears had been tingling. How could meeting Johnny possibly lead to anything terrible in my life? I don’t know much about falling in love, I’m only 8. But I have a feeling that this is pretty close to how Ariel felt when she saw Eric dancing around on his ship.