Categories > Original > Mystery > Falling
Somehow I was able to get through a painfully silent dinner table and finish my statistics homework--although I was so off kilter that it took me twice the time I estimated--before falling into a fitful sleep filled with terrifying dreams.
I was back in the forest, and I saw my mother leaning against a heavy oak tree. I almost cried when I saw that she was wearing the outfit she wore That Day: sturdy jeans, worn down sneakers, an earthy sweater over a Green Day t-shirt, and a messy ponytail. But when I called out her name, she turned away from me. So I chased after her, sobbing her name, but she didn’t slow down until we had broken free of the trees.
Suddenly, we were on a steep cliff, one that I vaguely recognized on one of our trips to Flathead. It overlooked this beautiful lake surrounded by vibrant green pines. I came up next to her and hugged her fiercely. “Mom,” I sobbed, “Mom.” Even after all these years of thinking of all the things I wished I could have said to her before she died, I had nothing to say. I was speechless and choking on gut-wrenching tears.
Squeezing me back, she looked into my eyes and said urgently, “We used to go here all the time. We loved it. Remember?”
I nodded furiously. “Yes. We did. But Dad and I haven’t been here since…”
“Honey, I need you to remember a special place you and I used to hide. Remember that day that we all played hide-and-seek? Where did we hide? Where did we hide?”
“I don’t know!” I told her frantically, searching around us. I knew this was important. It had to be. Mom wouldn’t be so desperate if it wasn’t.
“You need to remember,” she said faintly, pulling away from me. I clung to her, not willing for my time with her to end.
“Mom, why don’t you tell me? And help me? Mom!”
“Ronnie,” she smiles at me, taking a step backwards towards the cliff. “I love you, you know that, don’t you Ronnie?”
“Yes, Mom,” I assured her in a childish vigor. “I know.”
Another step backwards and her image flickers. “Ronnie, are you still reading? Reading in the rain?”
A tear escapes from my eyes. I haven’t touched the box marked “Rain” since she left. In fact, now the only time I read is during sunny weather. It hurts too much to read in the rain now.
Yes, I want to tell her, I do. I read all the time in the rain just for you. Just for you, Mommy. I’d do anything if you’d just come back and stay--
Her image flickers again and she teeters on the cliff edge. I try to grab her to pull her back, but my fingers slide through her. She is an apparition, and this is a dream, and she falls backward off of the cliff, mouthing at me to “Remember, Ronnie. Just remember sweetheart.”
I collapsed to the ground and cried after that. I almost didn’t notice waking up I was in so much hurt. Afterwards I drifted off into sleep and woke up at odd intervals until my alarm went off at 6 am.
After dressing in black jeans, a deep purple top, and a black jacket--also sneaking in a private emotional meltdown--I grabbed my backpack and braced myself for the terror of a breakfast with my dad and Stepmother. Dad sat at the kitchen table lazily scanning the business section while Stepmother was at the stove burning eggs. She gave me a snarly smile. “Would you like some breakfast, darling?”
Ignoring her dutifully I raided the pantry and grabbed a couple granola bars. “Dad, can I have some cash?”
He looked at me startled. My asking him something directly was an uncommon occurrence. “Wha--wha--huh?”
“I need some gas money. I put my wallet on the counter a few days ago and then I looked in it later and all my cash was gone.” My eyes shoot accusingly to Leslie, who is gripping the spatula tightly, grinding her teeth together.
“Well--but--I suppose--” he sputters. This is what happens every time I try to speak to him after his initial arrival. It’s as if he doesn’t know what to make of me anymore.
“Honey,” Leslie practically hisses, and of course my father doesn’t notice. I don’t even think it registers with him that she’s speaking. He’s off in some other world again, a place where he torments himself with his darkest thoughts. I want to reach out and hug him, but I know that will only make things worse.
Mom would know what to do.
“Nick sweetie, you can’t just go giving her money every time she asks. This girl needs to learn some responsibility, which she can’t do if you pay her for ‘losing’ her gas money.”
Gaping at her and biting down some harsh comment towards her one-thousand-dollar-asset-surgery, I hear my father mumble some sort of agreement. Leslie’s smile enlarges smugly. Once my father is behind the paper again, I say, “Love you Dad,” and flick the bitch off, leaving before she can squawk to my Dad.
Once I’ve started walking, I slide my hand into my jacket pocket and pull out the note, reading it again. It still sends threatening chills down my spine, but I analyze it anyway, searching for some clue towards the sender. Examining closely the red ink--God I hope its ink--I can’t seem to recognize the handwriting. It certainly didn’t come from Ray’s cursive-ridden hand, unless she changed it.
Although it killed me to go against her after all of those sleepovers and shared secrets, I knew it’d be stupid of me to rule her out just because she gave me her word. My best friend had definitely turned against me, and just because I was unwilling to believe it didn’t make it suddenly false.
I felt as though tears should be falling now, but they didn’t. Instead I shoved the note back into my pocket and walked faster, putting more force into each step than was necessary. How dare she? After all those mistakes I forgave her for, she goes against me for something so similar to what she’d betrayed me with before?
And her offense had been worse. I had been with Rick for almost a year--the best year of my life, I may add--when I caught her with her tongue down his throat. On the couch. And somehow I forgave her, because it wasn’t her fault, no. She was the victim in this scenario, and Rick was the jerk.
How the hell was I stupid enough to buy that?
And then, suddenly, my mind rushed back to my dream last night. Could I just shrug that off as something my subconscious wove for me? Or did it really have meaning? How was I supposed to figure that out? I should take it into meaning; I rationalized, because it can’t hurt not to.
But then that left me struggling to bring back to long gone memories of visits to Flathead National Park with Mom, who will never come back, and Dad, who’s been lost without her.
At the sound of a loud horn I jumped and nearly tripped over my own two feet. I also let out an embarrassing shriek. Ready to cuss out the offender, I faced a shiny black car with the window rolled down and a very apologetic looking British man behind the wheel.
“A little jumpy, are we?” Sebastian teased while I glared. “I am truly sorry that I frightened you, though. I was trying to offer you a ride.”
Shaking my head, I started walking, pointing to the nearing Jenson High School sign. “I think I manage it the rest of the way.”
He inches the car alongside me, ignoring the rude honks from the cars behind him. “I believe your fellow classmates will be quite angry if you don’t seat yourself into this car, because if you don’t I will continue at this pace alongside you.”
Another drawn out honk of complaint from the other vehicles sent me to the passenger seat. Sebastian looked pleased with himself and I rolled my eyes at him. “Do people always say yes to you?”
He shrugs. “American girls tend to like men with my sexy accent.” This I laugh at, and I don’t stop until we’re parked. It really doesn’t help that he keeps on doing a Mary Poppins impersonation. He gives me a minute to catch my breath before we step out of the car.
Out of habit I check the parking lot for Ray, but then force my eyes to the front of the building. Betrayal, I remind myself. Hypocrite, bitch…
Consequently, Ray’s on the front steps of the school hanging around the cheerleaders and a bunch of guys from the football team. I freeze, my mind frantically searching for alternate routes. My feet lead me towards the music wing, knowing before I realize it that there’s an entrance through there.
Sebastian follows me, confusion written on his face. “Is there something wrong Veronica?” My lips press into a thin line, which he rolls his eyes at. “Bloody hell woman, you’ve told me your entire life’s worth of woes, and yet you still hesitate to continue?”
When I continue to ignore him he grabs my shoulder and forces me to face him. We’re standing underneath a few small trees, just feet away from the door. I check my watch, unable to meet Sebastian’s imploring gaze. We have five minutes until the bell.
Soon I realize he won’t let me go until I ’fess up. Still looking at my feet, I mumble, “We have to get to first period.”
“Like hell we do. What’s going on? Did something happen between you and Ray?”
How was I supposed to tell him that Ray was almost sick with attraction to him and then when we kissed she shunned me in retaliation? And that she pretty much threatened to crush my already petty life if I kept on hanging out with him? It’d make him seriously question the kind of girl I was, since I willingly kissed him with that knowledge tucked under my belt.
I wasn’t a man-stealing slut. But I knew that five minutes alone with Ray would sway his opinion towards that conclusion.
It seriously hurt to think that I could be completely alone and friendless within twenty four hours.
The bell rang and I tried to leave, but Sebastian kept me firmly in place. “Why do you care?” I lashed out, ripping my arm out of his grasp. “If you hadn’t shown up none of this would have happened anyway,” I muttered under my breath, fists hanging at my side.
“First off, I care because as hard as you may try to hide it, you’re life is far from perfect. Secondly, I already know this much, and turning my back on you now would be heartless. Finally, how is this my fault?”
Shit, could he seriously have that keen of hearing? Or was I louder than I intended?
I guess it really didn’t matter. Either way I was screwed.
So I poured it out, leaving out all things note-related, and then, while he contemplated, I sprinted towards the doors, my sneakers squeaking on the linoleum as I shot down the halls and into the office. The bell had rung ten minutes ago. Ms. Griggs glared at me with disgust. “Where were you?”
Lying was the easiest option. “My alarm went off late.”
“Pathetic, Hansen,” her eyes left mine as she scribbled down a late pass and typed in a quick note on her computer. “Get to class.”
Footsteps echoed in the otherwise silent halls. I recognized the walk from yesterday; it was Sebastian. I ducked into a bathroom and waited until I heard the office door open and shut. After a frantic exchange of books at my locker, I took off to art, somehow avoiding Sebastian and only getting a minor disappointed look from my teacher.
I took my time going to ASL, reluctant to face Ray. I slipped into my seat just as the bell rang. Beside me, Ray scribbled notes to her new besties, A.K.A. the Squad.
She didn’t look my way, not once. Grinding my teeth together, I gave it back to her, never once looking to my left to see what she was doing. I took notes in class and even answered a couple of questions.
At the end, when the bell rang, Ray pushed past me, bordering on shoving me, before strutting down the hall with her new clique. She and the other girls whispered conspiratorially around an old try-outs poster, and Ray smiled triumphantly, writing something down on a sheet of pink notebook paper before walking off with some block-head from the football team.
Sure, she really had a thing for Sebastian.
Speaking of which, next period was chemistry, and he was my lab partner. I really did not think through this whole avoiding-him thing very well.
He’s not there yet when I walk in, so I’m able to sit down and get out my notebook and pen in peace, even whispering with Julia before he arrives and Mr. Burns calls the class to the attention of the board.
You can’t avoid me forever.
The note startles me, and I have to quickly slip it onto my notebook to avoid Mr. Burns’ eagle eye. He’s explaining something about us mixing some sort of liquids together and testing them with this color-changing stick thing to check for a chemical reaction…
Who gives a damn? My life is falling apart bit by bit, and he wants me to check for some pointless reaction and write it down? We should be learning something useful, like how to catch stalkers, not how to use a color-changing stick!
Waiting until the teacher goes into some detailed procedure I turn back to the note and jot down a response.
Yes I can, and I will. This is my fault, and she’s my friend, and I intend to do everything in my power to get her back. Or at least spare her from ruining my life.
A real friend wouldn’t threaten you like that over some guy.
That guy being you, thank you very much!
I’m not trying to shrug off any blame here. It’s my fault. But don’t you think that you’re overreacting just a tad?
NO. As you know, my life is a major suck-fest. I don’t need my catty ex-friend ruining it even more. She KNOWS me. She can ruin my life if I go any farther. So I’m sorry, but this whole friendship thing between you and me can’t and won’t work. If you really care, you’ll stay away from me.
Don’t you have any gratitude for what I’ve done for you?
Yes. I do. I can’t thank you enough for that. But it would be better for both of us if we just kept away from each other.
Sebastian mourns over the words I have written, but I know that he knows that I wish I didn’t have to tell him, because as he writes another note down, I see his lip curl and his blue eyes alight with a coy spark.
How about this: you still owe me a tour. If you don’t change your mind by the end of it, I’ll back off. If you do change your mind--which you will--then we go on with a smile on our faces and an “I don’t give a damn” on the tip of our tongues. Okay?
It makes answering no so hard. It’s not like I’m ignorant to where Ray likes to hang out around town. I could easily avoid her. Besides, I need to beat that cocky grin right off of his face.
And I’d take anything to distract me from the growing pain in the pit of my stomach from that note.
You’re on.
Welcome to Jenson, Montana, Sebastian
I was back in the forest, and I saw my mother leaning against a heavy oak tree. I almost cried when I saw that she was wearing the outfit she wore That Day: sturdy jeans, worn down sneakers, an earthy sweater over a Green Day t-shirt, and a messy ponytail. But when I called out her name, she turned away from me. So I chased after her, sobbing her name, but she didn’t slow down until we had broken free of the trees.
Suddenly, we were on a steep cliff, one that I vaguely recognized on one of our trips to Flathead. It overlooked this beautiful lake surrounded by vibrant green pines. I came up next to her and hugged her fiercely. “Mom,” I sobbed, “Mom.” Even after all these years of thinking of all the things I wished I could have said to her before she died, I had nothing to say. I was speechless and choking on gut-wrenching tears.
Squeezing me back, she looked into my eyes and said urgently, “We used to go here all the time. We loved it. Remember?”
I nodded furiously. “Yes. We did. But Dad and I haven’t been here since…”
“Honey, I need you to remember a special place you and I used to hide. Remember that day that we all played hide-and-seek? Where did we hide? Where did we hide?”
“I don’t know!” I told her frantically, searching around us. I knew this was important. It had to be. Mom wouldn’t be so desperate if it wasn’t.
“You need to remember,” she said faintly, pulling away from me. I clung to her, not willing for my time with her to end.
“Mom, why don’t you tell me? And help me? Mom!”
“Ronnie,” she smiles at me, taking a step backwards towards the cliff. “I love you, you know that, don’t you Ronnie?”
“Yes, Mom,” I assured her in a childish vigor. “I know.”
Another step backwards and her image flickers. “Ronnie, are you still reading? Reading in the rain?”
A tear escapes from my eyes. I haven’t touched the box marked “Rain” since she left. In fact, now the only time I read is during sunny weather. It hurts too much to read in the rain now.
Yes, I want to tell her, I do. I read all the time in the rain just for you. Just for you, Mommy. I’d do anything if you’d just come back and stay--
Her image flickers again and she teeters on the cliff edge. I try to grab her to pull her back, but my fingers slide through her. She is an apparition, and this is a dream, and she falls backward off of the cliff, mouthing at me to “Remember, Ronnie. Just remember sweetheart.”
I collapsed to the ground and cried after that. I almost didn’t notice waking up I was in so much hurt. Afterwards I drifted off into sleep and woke up at odd intervals until my alarm went off at 6 am.
After dressing in black jeans, a deep purple top, and a black jacket--also sneaking in a private emotional meltdown--I grabbed my backpack and braced myself for the terror of a breakfast with my dad and Stepmother. Dad sat at the kitchen table lazily scanning the business section while Stepmother was at the stove burning eggs. She gave me a snarly smile. “Would you like some breakfast, darling?”
Ignoring her dutifully I raided the pantry and grabbed a couple granola bars. “Dad, can I have some cash?”
He looked at me startled. My asking him something directly was an uncommon occurrence. “Wha--wha--huh?”
“I need some gas money. I put my wallet on the counter a few days ago and then I looked in it later and all my cash was gone.” My eyes shoot accusingly to Leslie, who is gripping the spatula tightly, grinding her teeth together.
“Well--but--I suppose--” he sputters. This is what happens every time I try to speak to him after his initial arrival. It’s as if he doesn’t know what to make of me anymore.
“Honey,” Leslie practically hisses, and of course my father doesn’t notice. I don’t even think it registers with him that she’s speaking. He’s off in some other world again, a place where he torments himself with his darkest thoughts. I want to reach out and hug him, but I know that will only make things worse.
Mom would know what to do.
“Nick sweetie, you can’t just go giving her money every time she asks. This girl needs to learn some responsibility, which she can’t do if you pay her for ‘losing’ her gas money.”
Gaping at her and biting down some harsh comment towards her one-thousand-dollar-asset-surgery, I hear my father mumble some sort of agreement. Leslie’s smile enlarges smugly. Once my father is behind the paper again, I say, “Love you Dad,” and flick the bitch off, leaving before she can squawk to my Dad.
Once I’ve started walking, I slide my hand into my jacket pocket and pull out the note, reading it again. It still sends threatening chills down my spine, but I analyze it anyway, searching for some clue towards the sender. Examining closely the red ink--God I hope its ink--I can’t seem to recognize the handwriting. It certainly didn’t come from Ray’s cursive-ridden hand, unless she changed it.
Although it killed me to go against her after all of those sleepovers and shared secrets, I knew it’d be stupid of me to rule her out just because she gave me her word. My best friend had definitely turned against me, and just because I was unwilling to believe it didn’t make it suddenly false.
I felt as though tears should be falling now, but they didn’t. Instead I shoved the note back into my pocket and walked faster, putting more force into each step than was necessary. How dare she? After all those mistakes I forgave her for, she goes against me for something so similar to what she’d betrayed me with before?
And her offense had been worse. I had been with Rick for almost a year--the best year of my life, I may add--when I caught her with her tongue down his throat. On the couch. And somehow I forgave her, because it wasn’t her fault, no. She was the victim in this scenario, and Rick was the jerk.
How the hell was I stupid enough to buy that?
And then, suddenly, my mind rushed back to my dream last night. Could I just shrug that off as something my subconscious wove for me? Or did it really have meaning? How was I supposed to figure that out? I should take it into meaning; I rationalized, because it can’t hurt not to.
But then that left me struggling to bring back to long gone memories of visits to Flathead National Park with Mom, who will never come back, and Dad, who’s been lost without her.
At the sound of a loud horn I jumped and nearly tripped over my own two feet. I also let out an embarrassing shriek. Ready to cuss out the offender, I faced a shiny black car with the window rolled down and a very apologetic looking British man behind the wheel.
“A little jumpy, are we?” Sebastian teased while I glared. “I am truly sorry that I frightened you, though. I was trying to offer you a ride.”
Shaking my head, I started walking, pointing to the nearing Jenson High School sign. “I think I manage it the rest of the way.”
He inches the car alongside me, ignoring the rude honks from the cars behind him. “I believe your fellow classmates will be quite angry if you don’t seat yourself into this car, because if you don’t I will continue at this pace alongside you.”
Another drawn out honk of complaint from the other vehicles sent me to the passenger seat. Sebastian looked pleased with himself and I rolled my eyes at him. “Do people always say yes to you?”
He shrugs. “American girls tend to like men with my sexy accent.” This I laugh at, and I don’t stop until we’re parked. It really doesn’t help that he keeps on doing a Mary Poppins impersonation. He gives me a minute to catch my breath before we step out of the car.
Out of habit I check the parking lot for Ray, but then force my eyes to the front of the building. Betrayal, I remind myself. Hypocrite, bitch…
Consequently, Ray’s on the front steps of the school hanging around the cheerleaders and a bunch of guys from the football team. I freeze, my mind frantically searching for alternate routes. My feet lead me towards the music wing, knowing before I realize it that there’s an entrance through there.
Sebastian follows me, confusion written on his face. “Is there something wrong Veronica?” My lips press into a thin line, which he rolls his eyes at. “Bloody hell woman, you’ve told me your entire life’s worth of woes, and yet you still hesitate to continue?”
When I continue to ignore him he grabs my shoulder and forces me to face him. We’re standing underneath a few small trees, just feet away from the door. I check my watch, unable to meet Sebastian’s imploring gaze. We have five minutes until the bell.
Soon I realize he won’t let me go until I ’fess up. Still looking at my feet, I mumble, “We have to get to first period.”
“Like hell we do. What’s going on? Did something happen between you and Ray?”
How was I supposed to tell him that Ray was almost sick with attraction to him and then when we kissed she shunned me in retaliation? And that she pretty much threatened to crush my already petty life if I kept on hanging out with him? It’d make him seriously question the kind of girl I was, since I willingly kissed him with that knowledge tucked under my belt.
I wasn’t a man-stealing slut. But I knew that five minutes alone with Ray would sway his opinion towards that conclusion.
It seriously hurt to think that I could be completely alone and friendless within twenty four hours.
The bell rang and I tried to leave, but Sebastian kept me firmly in place. “Why do you care?” I lashed out, ripping my arm out of his grasp. “If you hadn’t shown up none of this would have happened anyway,” I muttered under my breath, fists hanging at my side.
“First off, I care because as hard as you may try to hide it, you’re life is far from perfect. Secondly, I already know this much, and turning my back on you now would be heartless. Finally, how is this my fault?”
Shit, could he seriously have that keen of hearing? Or was I louder than I intended?
I guess it really didn’t matter. Either way I was screwed.
So I poured it out, leaving out all things note-related, and then, while he contemplated, I sprinted towards the doors, my sneakers squeaking on the linoleum as I shot down the halls and into the office. The bell had rung ten minutes ago. Ms. Griggs glared at me with disgust. “Where were you?”
Lying was the easiest option. “My alarm went off late.”
“Pathetic, Hansen,” her eyes left mine as she scribbled down a late pass and typed in a quick note on her computer. “Get to class.”
Footsteps echoed in the otherwise silent halls. I recognized the walk from yesterday; it was Sebastian. I ducked into a bathroom and waited until I heard the office door open and shut. After a frantic exchange of books at my locker, I took off to art, somehow avoiding Sebastian and only getting a minor disappointed look from my teacher.
I took my time going to ASL, reluctant to face Ray. I slipped into my seat just as the bell rang. Beside me, Ray scribbled notes to her new besties, A.K.A. the Squad.
She didn’t look my way, not once. Grinding my teeth together, I gave it back to her, never once looking to my left to see what she was doing. I took notes in class and even answered a couple of questions.
At the end, when the bell rang, Ray pushed past me, bordering on shoving me, before strutting down the hall with her new clique. She and the other girls whispered conspiratorially around an old try-outs poster, and Ray smiled triumphantly, writing something down on a sheet of pink notebook paper before walking off with some block-head from the football team.
Sure, she really had a thing for Sebastian.
Speaking of which, next period was chemistry, and he was my lab partner. I really did not think through this whole avoiding-him thing very well.
He’s not there yet when I walk in, so I’m able to sit down and get out my notebook and pen in peace, even whispering with Julia before he arrives and Mr. Burns calls the class to the attention of the board.
You can’t avoid me forever.
The note startles me, and I have to quickly slip it onto my notebook to avoid Mr. Burns’ eagle eye. He’s explaining something about us mixing some sort of liquids together and testing them with this color-changing stick thing to check for a chemical reaction…
Who gives a damn? My life is falling apart bit by bit, and he wants me to check for some pointless reaction and write it down? We should be learning something useful, like how to catch stalkers, not how to use a color-changing stick!
Waiting until the teacher goes into some detailed procedure I turn back to the note and jot down a response.
Yes I can, and I will. This is my fault, and she’s my friend, and I intend to do everything in my power to get her back. Or at least spare her from ruining my life.
A real friend wouldn’t threaten you like that over some guy.
That guy being you, thank you very much!
I’m not trying to shrug off any blame here. It’s my fault. But don’t you think that you’re overreacting just a tad?
NO. As you know, my life is a major suck-fest. I don’t need my catty ex-friend ruining it even more. She KNOWS me. She can ruin my life if I go any farther. So I’m sorry, but this whole friendship thing between you and me can’t and won’t work. If you really care, you’ll stay away from me.
Don’t you have any gratitude for what I’ve done for you?
Yes. I do. I can’t thank you enough for that. But it would be better for both of us if we just kept away from each other.
Sebastian mourns over the words I have written, but I know that he knows that I wish I didn’t have to tell him, because as he writes another note down, I see his lip curl and his blue eyes alight with a coy spark.
How about this: you still owe me a tour. If you don’t change your mind by the end of it, I’ll back off. If you do change your mind--which you will--then we go on with a smile on our faces and an “I don’t give a damn” on the tip of our tongues. Okay?
It makes answering no so hard. It’s not like I’m ignorant to where Ray likes to hang out around town. I could easily avoid her. Besides, I need to beat that cocky grin right off of his face.
And I’d take anything to distract me from the growing pain in the pit of my stomach from that note.
You’re on.
Welcome to Jenson, Montana, Sebastian
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