Rumors (A Lingering Echoes Prequel)

Whether I caught people talking about me or not, I could feel the words hanging in the air. The news that I’d been benched spread like a wick to dynamite, slithering along until it exploded, chucking rumored debris all throughout the school. As with all rumors, the general idea rooted itself like the trunk of a tree, allowing branches of gossip and untruths to grow in every direction.

  “She cheated on Shane…”

  “She was arrested for a DUI…”

  “The coach is revoking her as Captain…”

  Seeking sanctuary, I skipped lunch the next day, heading for Mr. Nordell’s classroom.

  “Hello there, Ms. Collins,” he said after I knocked on the door. “I wondered when you’d be back.”

  I slipped off my backpack and seated myself in the available chair next to him, as if it were placed ready and waiting for my arrival. “I was going to come sooner but…”

  “But you got yourself in some trouble over the weekend.”

  I flushed, ready to defend myself.

  Mr. Nordell winked at me. “Oh, don’t you worry now. I don’t believe one thing about that.”

  I sighed, wrinkling my forehead in frustration. “The rumors never stop. Just when I think I can fly under the radar, someone throws another one out there.”

  “Some people like to keep negative attention off them by pointing it at others,” Mr. Nordell offered.

  “It just seems like, ever since Maddie died…” I stopped. I hadn’t intended to talk about her. The recent talk going around school had nothing to do with her. Yet, her name escaped my lips all the same.

  He smiled. “Don’t let people distract you from growing the way you need to.”

  “I don’t know that I’m growing from Maddie’s death. I feel just the opposite, like I’ve lost a part of who I used to be. I feel stuck.”

  “Well, that’s part of your problem right there, if you don’t mind me saying so.” He paused, waiting for my approval to continue.

  “Go ahead,” I said, my curiosity peaked.

  “You’re trying to be the Allie you were before you almost drowned—before your cousin died. Think about a soldier who was maimed in war, or a person who lost a limb because of an accident. They don’t get to have that body part back. They don’t get to be the person they once were—not physically, and certainly not emotionally. It’s not possible.”

  I pondered his words for a moment while he continued.

  “Like soldiers and accident victims, lives can be altered in a matter of moments. Those that become instant amputees have to prepare for prosthetic limbs, rehab, therapy… It would be foolish to believe that our experiences in life don’t shape us in one way or another.” Mr. Nordell paused again, studying me. “You’re not originally from Portland, are you?”

  “No, I moved from Danville, California three years ago.”

  “California… so you are familiar with Yosemite then?”

  I laughed out loud, a rush of memories touching my mind. “It was pretty much my backyard. Yosemite is gorgeous.” Reflecting on the frequent camping trips we used to take as a family, I added, “There’s nothing like it.”

  Mr. Nordell flipped open his laptop. He pulled up pictures of Yosemite Valley, pointing to the carved, granite cliffs, including the infamous Half Dome and El Capitan. “Did you know that before Yosemite became this magnificent valley, that it was just a meadow?”

  I nodded my head. “I had to do a report on the formation of Yosemite in fourth grade. I learned all about how it formed from molten rock and glaciers.”

  The science teacher in Mr. Nordell seemed to perk up. “Now imagine, if it were possible, that Yosemite had resisted this change—that it hadn’t allowed nature to take its course in molding and shaping that meadow.” He scrolled through more breathtaking photos, pausing on each one. “We would not have this picturesque, remarkable valley that we cherish today. Now let me ask you one more question—how long did this formation take?”

  “Millions of years,” I answered. “It was a very slow process.”

  “Yes, very slow indeed…” He enlarged a picture of Half Dome, the granite crest an inspiring sight. Mr. Nordell’s voice softened. “We may admire the end product, but do we respect the processes that lead to its creation?” He closed the laptop. “Allie,” he began.

  The use of my first name caught my attention.

  “It’s ok to deal with life-changing events at your own pace.”

  I furrowed my eyebrows, restraining the tears. “But it feels like I’m holding people back, like I’m constantly making people uncomfortable or unhappy because—you’re right.” My eyes met his with a flash of understanding. “I’m not who I used to be.” More to myself than anyone, I whispered the words again because it felt good, in a way, to say it out loud. “I’m not who I used to be…”

  Mr. Nordell patted my hand. “Perhaps there is more truth in that statement than you have realized.” I gave a slight nod when he paused. “You need to get better for you, not for others. If people in your life are not willing to wait for you to heal, perhaps you need to consider the importance of that relationship. Time will tell.”