Spoiler! :
As the front door clicked shut behind her, Sara turned and looked at the mountainous stacks of boxes in the living room. Moving sucks, she thought wearily.
The house smelled musty, like wet cardboard. Sara flipped on the central air as she walked past the switch on her way to her bedroom. Although it was October, the weather was still warm, and the house became stuffy sometimes.
Walking into the bedroom, she dropped her backpack on the floor and crumpled onto her bed. Boxes cluttered her room, too, but at least those were hers. The box closest to her bed was labeled "Music Stuff." Sliding drowsily off her bed, she ripped the tape off the top. School had been tough; perhaps making her room feel more like home would help. Rustling through the crumpled balls of newspaper inside, she uncovered her amplifier. It was an ancient Peavey one that she'd bought at a yard sale. She would've loved a new one, but they were too expensive. Pulling it out, she plugged the cord into a wall outlet. Removing her guitar, which had come with the amp, from its case, she plugged it into the amplifier, closed her eyes, and began to play.
Her fingers flew faster and faster as she blocked out the world around her and let herself fade into the only world she was truly at home in, her music world. Entirely immersed in the music, she didn't hear the front door creak. The next moment, heavy footsteps were thudding in the hallway. Her door flew open.
Her stepfather, Harold, was standing in the doorway, black eyes shining madly. He advanced towards her, and Sarah shrank away, the guitar clattering onto the bed and making the amplifier scream.
"I'm sorry!" she shrieked, frightened, but he continued to move towards her, frizzy dark hair standing on end. With a furious yell, he struck her in the shoulder.
"You know, Sara, that I don't like it when you play," he snarled, his eyes wild. "I told you not to do that. I like a quiet house, Sara. So why do you do it, Sara? Why did you do it, Sara?" She was too petrified to answer. Her hazel eyes stared back at him, unblinking, as she cowered on the bed.
"Stupid kid," he grumbled, and hit her again, harder this time. "Your mother would be so ashamed of you if she were here, you know that?" He grabbed the guitar and walked out, slamming the door.
Motionless with fear, Sara stayed crouched on the bed. Then her body began to tremble, beginning with her hands and progressing until her entire skeleton rocked with terror. Her mouth opened in soundless screams and she began to sob, her frail shoulders vibrating. She curled up on her bed in the fetal position, squeezed her eyes shut, and cried until she passed out.
The next morning, a beautiful autumn Friday, Zac sat at the bus stop waiting for the school bus to arrive. He looked old for his age, at least 17 or 18, although in reality he would turn 16 in about a month. His finger tapped against his knee as he listened to his iPod, shaggy brown hair hanging in his eyes. He was the only one at the bus stop because he was the only teenager who lived on the street other than the new girl.
Zac sang along to the music under his breath. He adored singing. Ever since he'd been old enough to, he'd belted out tunes at every opportunity: school, church, and any other place where there were people willing to listen. He'd been taking guitar lessons ever since he was seven and had learned how to play; most of the songs he listened to, he knew how to play. When he saw her walking down the sidewalk towards him, he stopped.
He'd seen her every morning that week, but he hadn't said hello to her yet. There was something unsteady about her that confused him, that made him hesitate. This morning, her blond hair was tousled, her eyes noticeably puffy. She stared down at the ground as she approached, not acknowledging him. She wore headphones as well. Zac noticed that hers were identical to his. Perhaps this was the morning to start a conversation. It couldn't hurt; she seemed like she needed cheering up.
"Nice headphones," he said, smiling amicably as they waited for the bus. She tilted her head slightly and stared groggily back at him . Zac felt the smile leave his lips immediately; somehow it was impossible to stare into her joyless eyes and grin at the same time.
"Thanks," she answered after a moment, her hollow voice breaking. Tears shone in her eyes, and her lower lip quivered. Pity filled Zac's heart. What was wrong? Striking up a conversation might take her mind off of whatever was bothering her.
"So, are you a sophomore?" he asked, searching for something to talk about.
"Yes." was the simple reply. Her eyes were locked onto the ground again.
"That would make you 14 or 15, right?" Zac tried to catch her gaze, but it stayed glued to the sidewalk.
"15." He noticed that her fists were clenched; the knuckles were white and bloodless.
"That's cool. I'm Zac, by the way." She stood awkwardly, bathed in the sunlight, but didn't respond. Zac watched her as she stood silently for a few moments before replacing his headphones on his head. He was carelessly watching for the school bus when she turned suddenly and stumbled hastily away down the sidewalk. Watching her leave, Zac knew that something was incredibly wrong. Keeping an eye out for the bus, he went after her.
"Where ya' going?" he asked as he caught up."You're gonna miss the bus!"
"I know," she muttered, her voice angry and strangled. "I'm not going. I don't want to." Her face contorted as she tried to stop the tears from fallling, but they disregarded her efforts and trickled down her pale cheeks. Zac wanted to comfort her, but he wasn't sure how to. He'd only said hello to her for the first time minutes earlier. She might get angry at him if he tried to find out what was wrong. He glanced behind him, knowing that the school bus would be pulling up momentarily. Seeing another tear dribble down her cheek, he knew he couldn't leave her alone. Who knew what she would do when she was like that?
"I'm not going, either," he said decidely. Her pace faltered for a moment as she looked tearily at him. He continued to tag along. "We could cut together, if you wanna. It's not like I have the best school record anyway." Tears welled out of her eyes as she hesitated for a moment, then answered with a quick nod.
They walked down the street together. As Zac watched her move, watched her slender limbs move stiffly and quickly, watched the shaky miniscule movements of her tearstained face, he realized that she reminded him of birds, the tiny sort that landed in the parking lots of supermarkets and scavenged for food among the cars and abandoned shopping carts. Any minute, he thought, she might fly away. It didn't seem odd to imagine her sprouting a pair of wings and soaring up into the pale morning sky, leaving nothing behind but a battered backpack. Zac pictured himself walking through the door that evening and telling his family about his day. Guess what, Mom? I met a girl and she flew away! No, I don't know her name, Mom! Why are you looking at me like that?
"What's your name?" he asked quietly as they walked. It was strange that he'd committed to skipping school with her without having the slightest idea of what she was called.
"Sara," she muttered. "Without an 'h'."
"That's pretty," he answered.
Tacked to the pockmarked telephone pole, a sheet of paper fluttered in the breeze. In black and white print, it advertised a carnival taking place in Melodine Park, a nature reserve a few miles from where Zac and Sara lived. Sara stopped mid-stride when she saw it. Zac, watching her, noticed the flickering shades of desire fluttering dully in her eyes.
"Do you wanna go?" he asked her. She looked back at him as if she'd never been asked a question like that before. Hope shone faintly from her eyes. "It's today."
"Yes." Her delicate lips formed the word without hesitation. They set off for the city bus stop.
Standing silently next to each other, mere inches separating their shoulders, they watched traffic rush past. Zac scoured his mind for something to start a conversation about, but somehow he knew that Sara wouldn't be interested in the topics he'd bring up. She was different than any one he knew; in fact, she almost seemed like she was years and years older than him rather than being his age.
The bus pulled up in a flurry of exhaust, and the door slid open immediately. Zac stepped aside and let Sara go in front of him. After paying the bus driver, they moved to the back of the bus and found an empty seat. Sara set her backpack down on the floor next to the window, and Zac sat next to her. The bus rumbled to life again. Sara stared absently out the window, rays of sunlight catching in her eyes. Attempting to seem like he wasn't watching her, Zac tried to appear like he was staring out the window as well, but in reality he was mesmerized by the tidbits of light. They reminded him of the time he'd been very young and his mother had hooked a sprinkler to a garden hose in the front yard. Rainbows had appeared in the mist as he'd giggled and ran through the strands of water, products of the sweltering summer sun. The lights in Sara's eyes were just like them..
"Melodine Park!" the bus driver cried a few minutes later. The next moment, Zac's sneakers hit the pavement outside of the bus, and it rumbled away.
When the rumbling of the bus had faded, the distant sounds of metallic carnival music could be heard drifting through the trees. Sara's eyes brightened when she heard them. As if hypnotized, she walked away down an asphalt path that headed for the music's origin. Zac followed.
Above, the treetops swayed in the wind like enormous dancers. Mesmerized by the hushed sounds of the wind and the carnival music blending together, Sara tilted back and forth as she walked. Zac realized suddenly that it was a possibility that she'd lost her mind. But when Sara looked at him the next moment, Zac was sure she wasn't. Pure joy radiated from the green depths of her eyes as she listened to the music. The rainbows were back.
The carnival was a simple affair. There were booths set up all over a grassy field, most of them selling items like caramel apples and pies. There were a few rides; a Ferris Wheel had been set up and there was a merry-go-round spinning nearby. Sara watched the colorful horses glide around and around, their chiseled manes shiny and immobile. A couple of very young children clung to the horses, laughing.
Zac and Sara both stopped in front of the same booth at the same time. Inside, a man peddling acoustic guitars leaned back in his chair, dark hair protruding crazily from beneath his hat. He rose when they stopped.
"You interested in guitars, kids?" he asked. Zac nodded, but Sara backed up a few steps and stood silently, watching. The man's black eyes glanced at Sara and then looked back to Zac.
"Well, then, try one!" With a sweeping motion of his hand, he gestured to the numerous guitars inside the booth. Zac hesitated as he watched Sara's emotionless eyes staring at the guitar man. He selected a black one, slipped the strap over his head, and strummed his fingers lightly across the strings. Arms crossed, the guitar man stood waiting.
"Well, play something," he said, peering at Zac from beneath bushy black eyebrows. Zac looked directly at Sara, into the rainbows dancing in her eyes, and began to sing a song he contrived seconds before he sang the words.
"I know a girl who doesn't smile.
La da da, la da da.
She's got oceans in her eyes.
La da da, la da da.
She isn't like the other ones.
La da da, la da da.
She doesn't seem to feel the sun.
La da da, la da da.
I know a girl who's lost in trees,
La da da, la da da.
She loves the sounds of rustling leaves.
La da da, la da da.
She's got the sunshine in her eyes.
La da da, la da da.
I know a girl who doesn't smile.
La da da, la da da."
Sara's body relaxed as she listened. Sandy lashes soft against her cheeks, she closed her eyes and swayed back and forth. When the last note of the music faded away, she looked up. Warmth exuded from her formely vacant eyes. She began to clap, a strange, awkward smile resting on her lips as her slender hands touched.
The guitar man reached to take the guitar away from Zac. On the way, he tripped and stumbled towards Zac, his arms flailing as he tried to regain his balance. Sara's smile vanished immediately, and tendrils of fear shot through her eyes. Zac watched as her entire body tensed.
"I'm sorry, son," apologized the guitar man. But Zac wasn't paying attention to him. Sara had whirled in a flurry of blond hair and was running towards the parking lot. Zac handed the guitar to the man and sprinted after her.
"Sara! What's wrong!" She continued running. Suddenly, her feet flew out from under her and she tumbled to the ground, her backpack flying off of her shoulders and landing in the grass. She lay on the ground, hugging her shoulder. Zac knelt next to her, anxiously trying to calm her.
"Sara, are you okay?" He asked. He tried to help her up, but when his arm brushed against her shoulder, she shrieked and jerked away from him. She gritted her teeth and groaned. Zac could tell that she was in pain.
"It's okay, it's okay, Sara. Let me see." Moving slowly, he gently pulled her shirt sleeve up and looked at her brutally bruised arm, at the purple, swollen skin, and gasped. She bit her lip, looked back at him with her hollow eyes, and he understood. They sat in the grass together, Sara crying and Zac watching her, wondering who had done that to her. The carnival music played and the wind blew, but the rainbows didn't dance in Sara's eyes.
Zach sat with Sara leaning against him as the ferris wheel went through its motions. Sara's hair moved slightly in the wind as her head lay on his shoulder. Her eyes were closed. Zac looked down at her, and his heart ached. At any other moment, he might've enjoyed having her close to him, but now he could only think about the wounds that ached beneath the thin fabric of her t-shirt. Now, he only wanted to comfort her, and she only wanted to be comforted. Her body was limp; she was entirely exhausted.
"You sing pretty," she murmured softly. Zac glanced down at her, surprised. He'd thought she was asleep.
"Thanks," he answered.
"I play, too," she mumbled, slurring the words.
"Guitar?"
"Mmhmm. But I'm not as good as you."
"I'm not that good. You're probably better than me."
"Nuh-uh. You are. I only play to make noise."
"Whadya mean?' he asked. Her lips twisted, and the blood went out of them. She bit her lips, and her eyes flickered open.
"I only play to make noise so I can't hear anything else."
Puzzled, he asked, "What else do you hear?" She had begun to shake; her shoulder trembled against Zac's. Zac reconsidered. "You don't have to answer if you don't wanna."
"No. I have to tell someone." She stopped, as if preparing herself, and then continued.
"I hear voices, you know? But they don't talk like you and me. They don't use words, but I know what they mean. They stop talking when I play guitar. I think it's because they don't like the music, you know? They want me to shut up, you know? But I keep playing anyway. My momma used to play music, too. But she doesn't anymore. I know I'll be okay if I just hear the music. But I can't always hear it. Sometimes it's gotta stop, and then I have to listen to the voices." She was speaking faster and faster, the words gushing crazily from her mouth. Zac stopped her.
"Sshh. No more. Don't think about them. Don't. Look at the trees instead. We're above them, see? Just like birds. Now imagine if we had wings, and we could fly away." His father had told him that the first time he'd ever been on a ferris wheel. He'd been scared, but after hearing that, he'd never been frightened again.
She smiled faintly. "I could fly someplace where there were no more voices, and where I could always play music. I wouldn't have to be quiet anymore."
"You don't have to be quiet now, Sara. Not if you don't want to."
The ferris wheel spun, the sunlight shone through the trees, and the tears running down Zac's cheeks glistened like diamonds.
They spent the day at Melodine Park, riding the ferris wheel and laying in the grass, watching the clouds move past. The sun moved slowly across the sky, but at last it grew close to the horizon, and Zac knew it was time to go home. They walked to the bus stop. On the way there, Sara noticed a man selling strands of metallic plastic beads.
By the way Sara looked at them, Zac knew she wanted them but didn't want to ask for them. He didn't have enough money to buy her a necklace, but he did have enough for a bracelet. He bought her one when she was in the restroom, and as they rode the bus home, he slipped it over her wrist. He apologized for it not being a necklace, but she hugged him and told him she loved it.
"I couldn't ask for anything better," she said, and she tilted her wrist, watching as the sunset light caught on its surface.
They stood on the street outside Sara's house. All of the lights inside Sara's house were off. Zac hated that she would be alone; he was afraid for her.
"Sara, somebody needs to know. They can help you," he'd told her as he walked her home.
"Please, don't tell," She'd said, her eyes fearful. "It won't make things better, I know it won't. I tried to tell before, and it only made things worse."
"But, Sara," he said, trying to reason with her, She cut him off.
"No. Don't."
"How about this, then? I won't say anything until tomorrow. We can figure something out then, okay? How about that?"
She nodded slowly. "Okay."
They stood on the sidewalk. Zac squeezed her hand. She ran her fingers across her bracelet and looked into his eyes. For a split second, Zac almost leaned in for a kiss, but he decided against it. He'd only known her for a day. It wouldn't be right.
"See you tomorrow, Zac," she said quietly.
"Goodnight, Sara," he answered. She vanished inside the house, and Zac went home.
That night, at around two o'clock in the morning, Zac heard the blaring of sirens.
"They sound close," he thought. He wondered if he should get up, but sleep overcame him, and he found himself lost in a dream about Sara and the rainbows in her eyes.
The next morning, Zac stumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen. The newspaper lay unfolded on the table; rubbing his eyes, Zac poured himself a bowl of cereal and sat down. Unrolling the paper, he put a spoonful of cereal in his mouth and read the headline.
"Teenage Girl Murdered By Father."
Beneath that, there was a picture of Sara's face.
The cereal bowl shattered against the kitchen floor as Zac began to scream.
Sara's funeral was held a few days later. Zac didn't attend. That evening, the cemetery's groundskeeper found several strands of colorful plastic beads laying on the fresh grave.
Harold was arrested. He was eventually sentenced to life in prison for the murder of his step-daughter.
A month after Sara's death, Zac sat on the front porch of his house staring blankly at nothing in particular. He hadn't smiled since the morning he read the newspaper. He was interested in nothing; he had failed all of his classes. When his mother had asked him why, he'd simply burst into tears.
A middle-aged woman walked down the sidewalk. She stopped in front of Zac's house.
"Are you Zac?" He stared at her and nodded silently.
"Did you know Sara?" He nodded again.
"I'm the owner of the house she was living in when..." her voice trailed off. "I was looking through her things and I found something I thought might be important to you." She handed him a folded piece of notebook paper.
Zac sat on the steps, staring at the lady. A moment later, she said goodbye and walked back down the street. Zac watched her leave, and then looked down at the piece of paper in his hands. Unwrapping it carefully, he began to read.
"Dear Diary,
Today I met a boy named Zac. I've never met anybody like him before. Instead of telling me to shut up, he tells me that it's okay to make noise. I don't know if I should believe him. I want to. I trust Zac, and he must be right, but at the same time, there are some things he just doesn't know.
Today Zac asked me to imagine being a bird. Wouldn't it be nice to be that way, diary? Birds can fly away whenever they want to. They don't have to ask anybody; they've got the whole world waiting for them. Someday I'm going to turn into a bird and fly away. Maybe Zac can fly with me. We can go see the ocean together. I've always wanted to see the ocean. Someday I will.
Zac bought me a bracelet today. He wanted to buy me a necklace but he didn't have the money. I didn't mind. I'll always wear my bracelet.
Do you know what, Diary? Today was the best day ever, even though I didn't like it at the beginning. Maybe life is getting better now. Maybe things will finally start to look up. I'm tired now, Diary, so I'm going to go to sleep. But you know what? I'm going to play guitar before I go to bed. I'm tired of being scared of Harold. I don't want to be any more.
I wish Zac was here. He could teach me the song he played for me today. Maybe he'll teach me tomorrow. I hope so.
Goodnight, Diary. Good night, Zac. I'll see you soon."
Above Zac, a tiny sparrow watched him from the trees. As salty tears fell from Zac's eyes on to the paper, it flew away. Zac was too distraught to see it. But if he had listened, he might have heard it singing.
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