"You’ve got to be kidding me.” October groaned aloud as she stood in the courtyard of Young High amongst dozens of happy families.
How could she have forgotten Parents’ Day? The one day out of the year that families came to compete with other families in Olympic games. The one day out of the year where it was obvious that she was alone.
October wondered at the heaviness in her chest. Why did it hurt to stand there alone? How could you miss someone you’d never met? It made no sense but she did miss her parents. Whenever she asked Grandmother about them, all she would say was that they were angels. She took that to mean that they had died and Grandmother was forced to raise her.
She shook her head to clear it of painful thoughts and tried to focus. There was no way she would sit through the games today. She would skip like she had so many times before. No one would notice. No one ever noticed.
Dodging the families pouring in from the parking lot, October hopped back onto her bike and started out towards the city. As she grew farther away, the pain seemed to fade and she began to feel free. It was as if the air blowing past her ears and lifting her dark hair was also stripping the tenderness from her heart, leaving her happy and light. She even started to sing as she weaved through the neighborhoods surrounding the school.
It wasn’t long before she reached the top of the hill that overlooked the river and the little shops nestled in the foothills. Fast food, music, bookstores, clothing and coffee all awaited her in the valley but she would cruise past them all and ride across Baker Creek Bridge to an old almost-abandoned house.
What October had come to think of as The Art House sat overlooking the winding green river. It was a huge, two-story shack painted a ghastly purple and faded yellow. It was surrounded by a chain-link fence that didn’t keep out the art students with inspiration or the homeless who needed out of the rain. The young community loved this building and the evidence was clear. In stead of gang tags or proclamations of teenage love, The Art House was adorned with poems and ladies in red and men on the moon. The police constantly painted over the artwork but it didn’t deter the artists from coming right back.
Every time October had a chance to come see it, there was always something new. This time was no different. Vibrant blue shot across the black paint the cops had used, forming a wispy person. …And then he kissed me, drifted along the wall.
October stood her bike up against the fence and twisted her fingers through the links. She stared at that one sentence and began to imagine what came before the dot dot dot.
“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” a voice broke into her musing, making her jump. A voice so beautiful it made her heart skip a beat and the breath slip form her lungs. It was like the purest music. Somehow, without saying anything, it had said everything. Or at least that’s how it felt, but October couldn’t really explain what that meant and later couldn’t describe the feeling.
She didn’t know what she expected to see when she turned to face the stranger but it certainly wasn’t the dark figure that stood next to her. No model, no rock star, no angel in disguise, just a guy cloaked in a heavy, ankle-length trench-coat with a hood shrouding his face and an odd hump rising from his back.
October lifted her hand away from the steady tattoo of her heart and clasped the fence again. “It really is. Have you ever painted here?”
“No. I don’t have an artistic bone in my body. Have you?”
October snorted. “No, it’s so…precious. I’m afraid I’d ruin it.”
Why was she talking to him? He was wearing a hood in August! He’s creepy, Self! Just walk away! She though urgently, but her body wouldn’t listen. There was something about him, something relaxing in his manner. It made the odd, dangerous things seem okay.
Or maybe she was just that lonely. Maybe she was so starved for companionship that she would talk to anyone anywhere. Maybe, but she didn’t like to think of herself that way.
“I can understand that. I wish the cops would stop covering it up.” he said, stepping forward and entwining his fingers the same way October had. Those hands surprised October a bit. Weren’t street people, which she assumed he was, gritty or dirty or something? His hands were just as beautiful as his voice with long pale fingers and clean nails. Next to hers they looked strong and utterly masculine.
“Maybe the cops make it even more precious.” she murmured.
“I don’t follow.” he confessed.
She took a moment to gather her scattered thoughts. “If the cops didn’t paint over it then it would build up and look just like any other graffiti. Now, because they do, we only have a little bit of time with each painting and we know that the artist risked something to put it there. Everything is more important if there are consequences even if it’s just a fine.”
“Good point.” he agreed thoughtfully. “Hey, would you like to get…well I was going to say coffee but it’s too hot for that…maybe ice-cream or something?”
October hesitated. She wanted to say yes but her common sense was holding her back. She couldn’t go off somewhere with this weirdo…but they were going someplace public so…
“Will you take off the hood?” she decided that that was her condition. She needed to see his eyes.
“Huh? Oh!” he fingered it. “It’s creepy isn’t it?”
“Very,” she agreed.
He pulled it down so that October could see his smiling face. She gasped out loud. His glorious face! It was enough to make a girl swoon. Sunglasses covered his eyes but not his strong jaw and straight nose. His upper lip was a tad too full for his lower but somehow that made his mouth more appealing. Short, yet shaggy black hair fell into his face, just tickling the metal frames of his sunglasses.
Maybe it was his face, or her lack of human interaction but October agree to get ice-cream with the stranger despite still not being able to see his eyes. They walked side by side, October pushing her bike, across the bridge to the little shop.
“I’m Vallen, by the way.” he introduce himself as they stepped onto the rough pavement of a dilapidated parking lot.
“October,”
Vallen thought for a moment. “That’s a little strange.” he said with a smile.
October laughed, “And Vallen isn’t?”
“Yeah, I guess it is…October.” he said to himself, testing the way it fell from his mouth. She wondered what he thought when he didn’t say anything more.
October docked her bike in the rack and slipped through the door that Vallen held for her. The bright sun shone through the gigantic windows of the shop making it feel safe and clean. Air-conditioner kept it cool, almost too cool for ice-cream.
“Do you know what you want?” October asked when she realized that neither of them had bothered to look over the choices.
Vallen smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I always get the same thing. Does that make me predictable?”
“Maybe but that’s not such a bad thing is it? Plus, I don’t think that anyone would describe a stranger wearing a long trench-coat in the middle of August as predictable.” she laughed. “And besides…I always get the same thing too.”
A small pixie of a woman appeared behind the counter with a smile. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah, I’ll have a double scoop of strawberry in a cone…” he stepped aside to let October order.
“Single scoop of Cookie Dough in a cone.”
The girl nodded and grabbed two cones. Stretching to reach the strawberry she folded herself over the rim of the cooler, her feet barely touching the floor. Suddenly her toes left the ground and she tipped forward, headfirst into the cooler. Her feet kicked at the air as she struggled to right herself. Finding that her efforts were for not her body sagged. Her legs dangled from the lip of the tank limply.
“Oh shoot!” she groaned.
October fidgeted, unsure of how to help.
“Where’s the door?” Vallen asked as he scanned the counter for one of those flip up entryways.
The girl peeked through the display case and answered breathlessly, “It’s all the way around the building. Outside.”
“Great Skies above!” Vallen whispered. Then, in one lithe movement he leapt over the counter and landed lightly on the other side. Both October and the ice-cream girl stared wide-eyed and stunned. As he carefully pulled the girl from her icy tomb, October watched his hump, puzzled. Humpbacked people didn’t move that gracefully and they sure as heck didn’t hop over counters that easily.
As soon as the girl was back on her feet, Vallen repeated his amazing stunt. He noticed the reaction it caused and blushed, but tried to otherwise ignore it.
The girl had managed to scoop the strawberry when she was stuck and now handed it across to Vallen. After she handed October’s hers Vallen tried to pay.
“No! No, it’s on the house…for the flying rescue.” she smiled and didn’t notice the slight flinch in Vallen’s reaction.
“Umm…thank you.” he said before he and October headed outside into the heat.
“Well, that was interesting.” October said as they sat down at an umbrella-covered picnic table. “You’re very…graceful I guess.”
“Thanks…I guess.” Vallen smiled but underneath it was a twinge of tension.
They sat in silence for a while, but neither of them felt any pressure to force conversation. They were perfectly fine just watching each other enjoy the ice-cream.
October’s eyes roved over Vallen’s face, taking in the mystery of it. Before long she was completely engrossed in his features. He was so perfect. Why had he hidden his face? Why did he wear that heavy coat? Then she saw it. The hump. What was it? A tumor or something? How cruel that something beautiful should be misshapen. That happened sometimes, though beautiful people usually had ugly personalities.
Subconsciously searching for his eyes, October found herself staring at her own reflection. In his sunglasses she could see that she was openly gawking at him. She blushed and looked away.
What she couldn’t see was that Vallen was just as openly staring at her. His lips curled as he took in her flawless features. Her cosmic grey eyes were partially hidden by thick, black lashes. Dark waves fell past her shoulders, softening her square face. She was small and slender, almost fragile. He shook his head and looked away across the river.
He shouldn’t be there. He shouldn’t be talking to her. It was dangerous…and pointless. He couldn’t have her, even if he wanted her.
Anger flared in Vallen’s chest. He hated himself for an instance, hated his family and their stupid traditions. He hated his life and his freakishness. Why did he have to be alone? Why should anything come between him and his happiness?
Heat raged from his flared nostrils as he shot to his feet. October jumped, dropping her ice-cream in an effort to right herself.
“I really need to go.” he said stiffly, but then his voice softened. “I’m sorry. It was really nice to meet you.”
Before October could respond, before she could even process what was happening, Vallen turned and disappeared into the trees behind the ice-cream shop.
She sat there stunned for quite a while. Did she do something? Was there something wrong with her? Her thoughts circled around self doubt as she retrieved her bike and set out for home.
Maybe I was staring too much. Maybe he thought I was staring at his hump. She thought as she peddled along. Could she have hurt his feelings? Or made him uncomfortable?
What does it matter? She demanded of herself as her worrying grew almost painful and irritation set in. he was just some crazy guy on the street. Why should she care if he didn’t like her? She’d probably never see him again. She knew that she cared so much because he had talked to her, which not many people did. He made her feel special for a moment but had ripped it all away, leaving her feeling worse than before.
By the time she got home, she was exhausted by the emotional rollercoaster raging inside her. The house she shared with Grandmother wasn’t the most appealing thing she could think of but it was safe and comfortable and that was exactly what she needed. She stood outside staring at it from the sidewalk and sighed. The Victorian shack hadn’t been properly cared for in decades and it showed. The paint that had been a crisp white was now a dull and peeling grey. It looked like a shredded scratching post for giant cats. The wood that made up the porch and the trim had rotted long ago. If someone were to touch it, with even the slightest amount of pressure, it would crumble into a shower of cascading dust.
The inside wasn’t in much better condition. Corners of the ceiling, just high enough to be out of October’s reach, were plagued with thick cobwebs. The floors and walls, whose decoration was horribly out of date, sloped, sagged and collided at awkward uncomfortable angles.
Once, October had attempted to update the kitchen. She only added a microwave but the change had disastrous effects. Grandmother had noticed it first thing in the morning. She stood staring at it in silence just long enough to catch October’s eye. When October had called her name, Grandmother screamed at the top of her lungs and dashed from the room. After a short search, October found her huddled under the bed. Even after hours of coaxing, Grandmother stayed hidden there for two days. When she finally emerged, it seemed that she didn’t remember the ordeal at all, though she never stepped foot in the kitchen again.
Worried that the elderly woman might hurt herself, October had never changed anything else. Except for her room, which was out of Grandmother’s range, up the spiral staircase. It was, other than the microwave, the only thing that had changed in the house since Grandfather Wade passed away in the seventies.
October replaced the chartreuse wallpaper with black chalkboard coating. Anytime she felt inspired, she could jot down her thoughts on the nearest wall. Everything else in the room she painted clean white. The contrast was classic and well proportioned. It was October’s sanctuary, the only place she felt even remotely close to being happy. Close but never really, truly and completely happy.
In the living room, October flopped down on the couch next to her senseless grandmother. The poor old gal had suffered from dementia since October was very small and it had steadily grown worse throughout October’s childhood. By the time October was ten, Grandmother’s mind was completely gone. She wasn’t even aware of her grandchild, never questioned the food placed before her or the clean clothes folded in her drawers.
It had often occurred to October that if the government was to find out how bad off that Grandmother was then October would be put in foster care. She would be given to a family who took care of her instead of the other way around. She might be happier…but then again, was she really going to believe that someone would take her in? No one noticed her now, how would they think of her if she was just another needy kid among many? She would blend into the crowd and…
Ugh! October groaned mentally. She was getting on her own nerves, thinking such depressing thoughts. She forcibly pushed them from her mind and focused on watching daytime television until she would have to start Grandmother’s supper.
School dragged on in lulls as October coasted through the day. She was restless and absentminded and the classes, dull as always, were like torture. Her tongue itched to tell someone of the day before…to tell someone about Vallen. As hard as she had tried, she couldn’t banish him from her thoughts. Somehow he kept slipping back in against her wishes. The memories of him were light and carefree but when she thought about it, an anger tinged the edges of her mind. The agonies of rejection were ever present and school made her isolation even more evident. She was completely alone.
She had walked to school that day but as the release bell rang and she stepped out into the courtyard, she regretted it. Rain had fallen in sheets all day to form deep, murky puddles. She sighed. At least it had stopped…for the moment.
Trudging through a completely silent neighborhood with the soft squeak of her Doc Martens as her only soundtrack, October tried to fight back the black mood that threatened to encase her. It had loomed in her mind for days, shutting out the light and pulling her down. A chill ran across her spine and she shivered. Something bad hung in the air. It was only a matter of time before she found out what it was.
Suddenly, a series of sharp yaps shattered the peace, making her flinch. October pried her gaze from the sidewalk to stare at the Chihuahua. She was so used to be ignored, even by animals; it was strange to have something acknowledge her. But as her gaze strayed from the dog, she realized that she was being ignored. A fat grey squirrel was sitting on the Chihuahua’s fence, silently tormenting the pooch. It nibbled on a walnut, not concerned with the dog’s threats in the least.
October sighed and continued her march, but as she took another step, gravity decided that it had other plans. Her boot caught a crack, wrenching her whole body out of balance and sending her to the ground like a bike without a kickstand. She landed on her stomach in a murky puddle. As she sat up, she saw the chemicals throwing rainbows into the air and swore under her breath.
She pulled herself to her feet and prayed that it wasn’t too toxic. She had swallowed a good mouthful. Ringing out her hair, she hurried the last few blocks to her house, desperate for a shower.
When October came in, avoiding the hole in her floor, Grandmother was in the same place she always was at his time; on the couch, watching her stories. October didn’t bother greeting her, it didn’t register with Grandmother. She just kicked off her boots, threw her wet clothes in the washer and headed straight for the shower.
She enjoyed the warm rejuvenating water so much that she couldn’t bring herself to get out even after she was done washing. She let the mater roll over her and the steam fill the room. It smoothed out her tense muscles and swept away her exhaustion, leaving calm and peace in its place.
Eventually, the hot water ran out and made room for the cold. Feeling lightly guilty for having used it all, she slithered out and into her favorite pajamas. It really wasn’t late enough for bed but she shrugged and wrapped her hair in a towel.
She flitted her way into the kitchen. The shower had left her in a good mood and the looming darkness seemed dim and far off in the distance. Over her own singing she could hear the commercial on the TV from the next room. Something about the next big thing in appliances.
Odd, she thought. Grandmother’s usually in the dining room by now. Maybe she forgot to turn the TV off.
She shook the eerie feeling from her shoulders and pried the refrigerator door open. It groaned in protest. The old Junker would give out soon and then what would she do?
October’s nimble fingers pulled out the leftovers from the night before. Meatloaf. It was always meatloaf. It was the only thing that Grandmother would eat. October hated it.
She grimaced, zapped it in the microwave and headed to the dining room. The room was empty. No one sat in the broken down chairs in front of the leaning table. She sat the plate down in Grandmother’s usual place and went to find out why she wasn’t there.
“Grandmother?” October called to the figure that still occupied the couch, even though her shows were all over. She got no answer. Grandmother didn’t seem to hear her at all, not unusual but still worrisome.
Slowly, dreading what she would find but unsure why, October rounded the couch. The sight sent her backwards into the armchair cattycornered behind her.
Grandmother’s skin was a disturbing shade of grey with a waxy look to it -- though October wasn’t about to find out if it actually felt that way. Her eyes, filmy and glazed over, stared blankly at the Wheel of Fortune. She was slightly leaned forward and spittle glistened on her chin.
October buried her face in the arm of the chair, jamming her eyes shut, trying to block it out. But the image was there, burned into her eyelids. She couldn’t escape it. Her skin crawled. The knowledge that a dead woman was there in the room with her sent shivers down her spine. She fled from the corpse, ending up in the bathroom happy she hadn’t eaten yet.
“What am I going to do? What am I going to do!” she moaned aloud to the porcelain bowl. She felt guilty because she didn’t truly grieve the loss of her grandmother, but Grandmother had been lost for a long time. What bothered her was the fact that she was now a true orphan.
Thoughts of dark orphanages and grey faces filled her mind as she clutched at her ribs, trying to hold herself together. If she let the social workers take her away, then she would loose even the small comforts she had, like the Art House and playing possum, as she waited for someone to take her in. and they never would. Just because one weirdo on the street had noticed her didn’t mean that the rest of the world would follow suit. She couldn’t sit in a group home waiting for eighteen. She refused to.
October knew that her life would change that day and that her decision in that bathroom would set the track for her future. But what could she do? She refused to believe that life as a government child would be what was best for her. But what options did she have?
She could leave!
It was like the skies opened up and Zeus sent the thought to her along a lightning bolt. She would go out on her own. She could do it! After all, she had basically taken care of herself her whole life. She was sixteen and old enough to find a job, plus the money Grandmother had stored away. Soon enough she would be able to afford a small apartment. But where would she stay until then? The Art House! Hobos were always squatting there and no one ever gave them any trouble. It would be safe enough for a while.
She took several deep breathes and pulled herself away from the toilet and to the sink. After brushing her teeth she threw the toothbrush and toothpaste into a small red bag along with travel sized deodorant, sop and shampoo. Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t sure why they had it.
She headed for the stars, avoiding the living room. She was surprised at her macabre thoughts of the irony of her grandmother’s corpse resting in the living room. It shocked her that such morbid things popped into her mind. Maybe that was just her way of coping -- making light of dark situations.
October found the dark green back pack squatting like a toad in the bottom of her closet. Even though she tried to pack smart -- plenty of underwear and socks, a swimsuit, long johns (in case it got cold during the night), a light blanket and all the money in her piggybank-- she couldn’t help but pack a handful of her favorite books and a sketch pad. Quickly, without much thought to it, she stripped off her PJs, threw them in the bag and changed into more suitable clothing; tight fitting exercise pants and her favorite concert tee with her Chucks.
After doing a quick once over and deciding that she had all she could take, she flung the pack onto her shoulder and went downstairs to Grandmother’s room. The money was kept in a shoebox under the bed, along with pictures, letters and other memorabilia. Feeling like a disrespectful thief, October poured it all out over the quilted bed. There wasn’t much, not a bill over five. She counted it out to be ninety-four. Added to hers it came to a grand total of one hundred and fifteen.
She knew better than to keep it all in one place so some went in her shoes, some in the toiletry bag, in her pocket and the rest in her backpack.
Hesitantly, she leafed through the memories spread out on the bed, idly wondering if some of the people in these pictures were her parents. There was nothing that meant anything to her so she gathered it back into the box and placed it back under the bed.
On the rotary dial in the kitchen, she called 911.
“Nine-one-one, this call is being recorded. What I your emergency?” a female voice asked in that bored tone that one get from answering phones, or doing anything else, all day.
“Hello. My grandmother has died. She’s at 1228 Little Switzerland.” October found that her voice was thin and shaking. She hung up and hurried outside. The sun was starting to set and she silently prayed that she could make it to Baker’s Creek before it got dark.
As she rode her bike towards an uncertain future, she glanced back at the old house. Suddenly she became aware of how much it had felt like a prison and how happy she was to be leaving it behind…even if she was going to be homeless.
Correct punctuation in speech. Before a speech tag - that's "he said" or "she said", you should always have a comma. Sometimes you use a full stop instead. Let me give you an example:
