She stepped even closer to him. She sensed him stiffening up as she leaned her head against his hard chest. She didn’t know what she was doing but she was doing it anyway. She didn’t over think her actions, letting the spontaneity take over. She turned up towards Charlie who was looking down at her.
She felt his lips inch closer and closer, almost like they were in slow motion but also feeling like time moving in fast-forward. He leaned in and their lips touched gently until the sound of the front door opening behind them ruined the moment.
Mason stepped out, surprised to see the two of them in such an intimate moment on the porch.
“Ah, Casanova strikes again,” Mason acerbically teased. She felt like slapping him squarely on the jaw for ruining the perfect moment and for making Charlie feel so obviously uncomfortable. She did not know, though, who Casanova was in reference to. Was there something he knew about Charlie that she didn’t? She then quickly chastised herself for once again over thinking things.
“I’ll talk to you later,” Charlie quickly mumbled and disappeared quickly into that side door that his mother entered just a little while ago.
Upon hearing the door close, she turned around to her brother who had a wry smile on his lips.
“You are such an ass,” she whispered. “Why do you always have to be such an ASS.”
She bent down to pick up her shoes that were hastily lying on the grey concrete and quickly placed them in her purse. Mason, clearly shocked at his sister’s shrewd reaction, and didn’t say a word. She slammed the front door shut behind her. She allowed herself to take a split second to look back at her brother who remained open mouthed at her rash response. Well, she thought to herself, he did just manage to ruin one of the sweetest moments she had experienced since becoming 17. Again.
Chapter 23
It was Saturday the next day, and the day off from school added extra icing to her proverbial cake that, at that particular moment, was baked full of the continued sense of drama-free contentment. She made sure to sleep in (by completely turning off her cell phone and lowering her blinds until the room was in complete darkness) and managed to only wake up until her mother rashly knocked on her door, asking if she wanted anything for lunch. She hadn’t made an effort to get up from her comfortable position on the bed to answer her mother’s hurried knocks. She felt extra thankful when her mother gave up her goal of waking her daughter up on that sunny, and slightly cool, Saturday.
She had had a dreamless sleep, something she knew she totally needed after all of the preceding days. Until today, her nights seemed to be full of disturbing images and freakish situations where she always had to make a choice that always had such negative impacts. Last night was dreamless, and amazing. For the first time in weeks, she actually felt refreshed.
Stealing a glance at her alarm clock that sat on the nightstand beside her, she was surprised to see was nearly 2 pm in the afternoon. Instead of speeding up her actions, she took her time stretching as she slowly got up out of the safe confines of the enormous bed, feeling shockingly guilt free for having nearly slept half the day away. There was no pressing need to run to the grocery store, or to return the movies she had rented, or to travel halfway across town to meet Sonya for coffee or, even more rarely, brunch at a cool new restaurant. She exhaled heavily as she arose out of the bed and began to assemble herself to be semi-presentable.
She took a moment to reflect that the relative guiltlessness and lack of a heavy, persistent conscious was one of the things she liked best about her situation, even if that lack of guilt was due to a certain amount of ignorance to how the world really and truly operated. Tomato, tomat-oh.
She would have loved to continue going about her day aloof and not thinking about the little nugget of information that Jason had dropped on her the day before, or the fluttery feeling she had whenever she saw or spoke to Charlie. What she wished for most, however, was someway for her not to constantly hear Marina’s nagging voice in her head, reminding about ‘making things right’. If she didn’t at least make an effort in trying to complete the old woman’s objective, there was no hope in staying in this new life.
After taking a shower and returning to the sanctuary of her larger than life bed, she took out her mobile phone that still lay nestled in her book bag and turned it on reluctantly. While she had reveled in the feeling of being unreachable by her friends, she felt as though she were only postponing the inevitable. She decided to bite the teenaged drama fused bullet and looked at the lit up screen on her little gadget.
Sure enough, she was notified by blinking lights that her voicemail box was full (20 messages!) and she had nearly 40 text messages that begged to be read. Automatically deleting the one worded text from Jason the previous night (Prom? Yeah right, she thought to herself), she began to scan through the many texts from Claire, which all held her typical ‘the world is ending’ tone of urgency in the shortly worded messages that flooded the phone. She knew that Claire wanted to speak to her about something important, the caps-locked text messages indicated as much. She recognized the urgent tone must have been related to Claire’s pregnancy, though her friend did not exactly say she was with child explicitly. Judging from their previous afternoon’s interaction, she was positive that there totally was a bun in that uptight oven.
Surprisingly, there was a short text message from Bennett, whom she felt genuinely bad about not speaking to more, regardless of the social stigma that apparently accompanied talking to the new girl in school. She wanted to tell Bennett that she, too, was a new girl, but that would have been rather difficult to explain, to say the least.
Prom Committee meeting next Sunday at 11 am – Excited much? , Bennett’s text had read. Momentarily confused, she quickly remembered that just the day before between Biology and English class, she wrote her name on the list that was taped up outside the Student council office canvassing for volunteers to join the prom committee. She was glad to see that Bennett had decided to join the committee as well. She wouldn’t now feel so out of place by being on the committee. Even if Claire managed to pull a 180 with her attitude, she found it hard to believe that she would accept her friend being on the planning group of the most important event of the year, voluntarily at that.
Bennett seemed to be a rather normal person, whatever that meant, and made her feel comfortable and at ease. Even though she’d had very limited interactions with the girl in recent weeks, there was something both genuine and interesting with Bennett that she felt refreshing, especially in its vast difference to Claire’s insanity.
She happily settled back into a comfortable spot in her bed amidst the many pillows and fluffy duvets surrounding her. She dropped her phone on the nightstand, which also happened to house a framed picture of her and Claire in happier times. She looked at the frame and smiled, seeing that a true friendship was alive in there somewhere, but not feeling one with the girl now, in real like. She raised her drapes a bit to let the sun shine in slightly, causing a shadow effect on the darkened television screen. Her mind began to drift off, random thoughts clouding her mind, non-sensical in nature and fell asleep.
***
It was pitch black all around her. She felt disoriented, unsure of where the ceiling began or where the walls stood before her. By this time, she knew what the lack of spatial awareness meant. Drops of moisture fell onto the back of her hand but she did not where the sources of them were. She tried to discern and make out any familiar sights around her, but it being so black and dark, she only managed to feel enclosed and slightly claustrophobic. She reached upwards instinctively to feel for a ceiling or whatever it was that loomed above her, but her hands touched cold, wet stone.
Am I in a cave?, she thought to herself, a chill running up her spine. Now becoming aware that she was actually standing, she took a deep breath and called up on the courage to begin to move slowly towards the tiny pocket of light she saw that seemed to be just a few feet away from where she now stood.
Suddenly, a
slight breeze touched her skin, causing goose pimples to break out across her arms and legs. It must have been only a few degrees in the confined space that surrounded her, she thought. She looked down at her feet and noticed she wasn’t wearing shoes, causing the clammy soil and pebbles beneath her naked feet to jab her rather painfully as she ventured towards the light that she hoped would bring some sort of respite to her current uncomfortable situation.
As she made her way towards the tiny spot of the light feet away she mentally noticed how brilliant and nearly blinding yellow hues were. She tentatively took a few more steps forward, dirt cramming between her toes, and seemed to cross some sort of threshold.
The darkness quickly evaporated around her and she was abruptly completely bathed in extreme and total whiteness, forcing her to bring her hands to her eyes to shield them from intensity. At that point, she recognized the familiar setting of total whiteness and the same two chairs that she had seen on her first day of becoming 17 again.
Out of virtual thin air, Marina appeared, perfectly dressed and every single hair in its right place. She noticed that the woman’s face looked tired, sad even, but she chose to remain quiet. Seeing the bookshop owner made her comfortable, but the instant tinge of desperation and urgency quickly took over any positive associations with seeing the woman.
Finally deciding to say something and break the silence that enveloped both women, she was genuinely surprised to hear the high-pitched tone of her own voice, making her sound like she had just swallowed a balloons worth full of helium.
“Marina – I am happy to see you!” she exclaimed, momentarily taken aback by the happiness that echoed in the white space that surrounded both women. Marina remained expressionless, her face not quite stoic but not happy either.
Finding the woman’s expression unsettling, she continued. “What’s wrong, Marina? You don’t seem like yourself.”
Marina’s eyes slowly widened but then returned to their normal size. She didn’t know what to make of that subtle change of expression in the shop owner, but the vibes she got was that it wasn’t coming from a happy place.
Before responding, Marina slowly made her way to one of the chairs that stood before both women and lowered her tiny frame onto it with an audible sigh. She decided to follow suit and sit across from the older woman on the other lone empty chair, however, no sigh escaped her own lips.
“I am not myself these days, Darcy,” Marina finally replied, once again making a heavy sigh as the words left her tiny, dark red lipstick lined lips. “I am worried about your progress in your tasks.”
“My tasks?” she muttered, not knowing what else to say.
“You have not committed yourself,” Marina mouthed back, her voice soft and gentle. “And for that I am afraid that life, as we both know it, will change forever.”
She found the statement a bit dramatic and over the top, but given the complete ludicrousness of her entire current situation, she decided to let it pass. In fact, it seemed to rather fit in well with her current drama infused life.
“I still don’t know what has to be done,” she countered, her tone meek and less accusatory than their previous meetings. “I’m trying to understand what is going on and what...”
“You are not trying anything!” Marina screamed, cutting her off and startling her in the process. “You are being selfish!”
At once, dark reds and purples colored the vast, expansive space that surrounded both women, almost resembling a lava lamp in appearance. While there was not a single sound being made in the room, She felt a tangible heaviness of bass or some other sound that felt resonating within her very core.
“Being selfish is inherently part of being 17!” she yelled right back, not caring if her raised voice further angered Marina, who began to look like she was going lapse into some sort of psychotic breakdown at any given second.
“Don’t be smart with me. You and I both know what is going on. I granted your wish and you are not keeping up your end of the deal. Instead of making things right, like I said, you’re making things so much worse.”
“How am I doing that, Marina? By speaking up for myself and for defending what is the logical thing to do?” she countered, this time her voice still rising, reverberating in the space around her. “I can’t sit back and let other people dictate the decisions that should be made for her, er, me.”
“You are her and she is you, this is true,” Marina whispered back. “But I can’t keep guiding you on what you need to accomplish during this short time. I am putting myself in danger by just appearing to you like this. You yourself said that you wanted to be a teenage girl again, to live a simplistic life, ‘to date cute boys’. And that is what you are. But you are still not happy? You are still finding things wrong with everything and ending friendships and breaking hearts and all of the things you precisely should not be doing.”
“It’s not as easy as you think, Marina. Things aren’t so black and white.” Darcy brought her eyes to the white floor, her eyes beginning to moisten with tears.
“Oh, is that so? Are you saying that being a teenager isn’t like the books you’ve read? That the only things you are thinking about are not who will be taking you to the prom and what dress to wear?"
She felt like she was punched in the stomach at the gravity of Marina’s intense questions. The woman was right – being a teenager was absolutely not as easy as the books she read made it out to be. There were things that happened every single day that were not written about, either out of necessity or because it would deter the reader. Had Darcy fallen in love with the idea of a story, or with real life? She was having a hard time differentiating between the two these days more than ever.
“I will try harder, Marina, I promise. It’s just a lot to take in. I’m trying to get comfortable in my new skin, but I’m also trying to gain a sense of identity that would make this girl proud. Just don’t take me away from this.”
“I don’t know how much longer I can prolong it,” Marina quickly retorted. “I told you that you only have until the prom to do what you need to do. And, as you know, that’s only 3 weeks away.”
“I know but I feel like I’m on to something, here. Just trust me. I can do this.” Darcy said, noticing that she was wearing a pair of hot pink stilettos.
“Ok, Darcy. But remember – things may not be as they seem. There is a lot riding on this, my dear friend. I just hope your efforts will be successful,” Marina said, the words, and their heavy connotations, hanging heavily in the air.
Suddenly, she felt like she was being strangled and her hands went instinctively to her throat as the room around her became bathed in darkness once more.
She bolted upright and realized she was back in her bed, safe and sound, pillows all around her. The sun had begun to set, causing tinges of orange and amber to fill the large room. There was still a sliver of light or two that managed to enter large windows, their appearance small and slight, much like Darcy’s current emotional and fragile state. She realized she was sticky with sweat, fear still pumping through her veins.
Let the games begin, she thought to herself. Even though I have no idea what the games are or who’s even playing. All I know is what the reward is.
Chapter 24
It almost appeared as though the weather was starting to get cooler instead of warmer, which was clearly strange and bizarre for the month of May in Martin's Falls. The residents seemed to be confused and bewildered – not knowing if they should be wearing their walking shorts to the grocery store or a pair of jeans. The weather literally changed so quickly that a need for pants would have seemed preposterous on the short drive to the grocery store, but once at the checkout, you silently chastised yourself for not packing a parka.
Darcy was used to rapid changes in temperature (These people don’t know a thing about global warming, she had already thought to herself at least a half dozen times), having lived in one of the biggest cities in the world that was notorious for rapid changes in tem
perature, but she found it enjoyable seeing people scramble as to what was up with their tiny town on a tiny part of the gigantic earth.
She knew to pack a cardigan or two before leaving the house that Sunday morning to join Bennett at the Prom Committee that was happening at their local (and only) Starbucks. She and Bennett had become close in the last week that Claire had completely iced her out, and she found herself enjoying every minute of it. Bennett and her seemed to really understand one another and intuit what each other was feeling or thinking. Whereas Claire was an entire question mark, Bennett was more of an ellipsis.
Before rushing out the front door before her parents got all nosy as they did on Sundays, Mason managed to halt Darcy just as she thought she managed to leave the house without interruption.
“Where are you off to this early on a Sunday, sunshine?” Mason asked, his voice high. Clearly he wanted her parents to overhear their daughters’ hasty exit, but she wasn’t biting.
Instead of replying and getting into a heated confrontation with her brother, as what has come to be the norm in the Platt household, she continued her exit out of the house and shut the door behind her. Mason didn’t take that as an end to his inquiry and so he left the house as well, slamming the door intentionally loudly behind him.
She audibly groaned as she bee-lined towards her car which was parked not twenty feet from the front door of the home. Mason was faster than she was and caught up swiftly to her.
“You don’t have to be so rude,” he said, his voice dripping of judgment and disdain. She had to stop herself from laughing because she thought he was trying to be funny. Me? Rude? She thought to herself. You won’t ever meet a more un-rude person.
She unlocked the car door and quickly threw herself in. Mason, like a dog with a bone, patiently waited until she lowered her power window. He wasted no time in sticking his head inside the car, just inches away from her face. This time, she decided to entertain her brother’s decent effort at communication, albeit being done in an obtrusive way.