Chapter One - Normality Twisted
Have you ever been in a dream that you knew was a dream yet you were unable to wake from it? Everything that you felt in that dream feels real, from the deep emotion to simply touching a tree. I would have these dreams almost nightly. It felt like a past life trying to reach me from the deepest of darkest corners of my subconscious. What didn’t make sense to me was that it would be the same feeling and the same people in those dreams. There would be times that I would love to escape to this dream world. Unfortunately for me, I was running out of time in said world.
Yawning, I arch my back, right before turning over and covering my head with my blanket. It’s early in the morning and three days before Spring Break. Waking up is something that I am not looking forward to do. I force my mind to return to the dream.
I can hear my alarm clock going off again, a commercial for some hair product. I hit the snooze button again; this would be my third time.
I close my eyes again. It feels like a lifetime since I had any sleep, when in reality I’ve had a good six hours of it. I can hear my dad now, in the kitchen and it will only be a matter of minutes before he knocks on the door. Might as well make the most of it and sleep in as long as I can.
I can feel myself slipping away again, like I’m falling into something or somewhere.
Five minutes later and there’s a knock at my door, as always, my dad is right on schedule. I roll over for what seems the twelfth time and this time around, I get a claw to my face. One of my several cats had decided to sleep on my pillow.
“You’ll miss the buss,” I can hear my dad say through the door moments after the scratch to the face.
Throwing the blanket off of me, I reach down and grab a pair of jeans. In a sleep-like state I throw them on. Immediately after, I fall over into my bed once again, if you could call it that. I currently sleep in a small bedroom in a small trailer and on top of two mattresses.
Yes, this is my early morning ritual. I am, nor will ever will be, a morning person. Knowing my dad, he has a water gun in his hand and I’m not entirely sure that I locked my door last night. All I need is someone bursting into my room with a water gun. I knew I had to get out of bed.
As soon as the door opens, I jolt myself awake, “I’m up, I’m up!”
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yea, wh—-oh right,” the scratch from my cat started to sting a little. “Yea, I’m fine. I must have rolled over on the cat.”
My dad closes the door as I head to the bathroom to clean the scratch and to get ready for school. As I gaze into the mirror, I notice some blood on my tanned face. Sighing, I get the disinfectant from the medicine cabinet.
After getting fully ready, I grab my backpack and head to the bus stop. Funny thing is I have to pass another bus stop to get to mine. A normal person would rather walk a short distance to get to their destination, I rather not. You see, all of the kids who ride that bus, are the bad kids from the trailer park. I’d rather walk further than ride a bus that would be mistaken for the juvenile bus heading to the correctional facility.
Ten minutes later and I’m at the bus stop. It’s set in front of an old laundry mat that is home to a few arcade games from the late 1980’s. Most of the people that ride this bus are already here. It’s a small group and we all get along, but we really don’t hang out while we’re at school. I never understood that. Sure, we don’t have the same classes but we could hang out during free time at school, but we don’t. We always talk at the bus stop at least and sometimes hang out on the weekends.
I take out my tape player and throw my headphones on. The cat scratch on my cheek started to get red as I walked to the bus stop and I am in no mood to draw attention to it. Today would just have to be one of my anti-social days.
Thankfully, the students at the bus stop were as tired as I and we really didn’t talk much. Once I get to the school grounds, I head to the usual spot where I wait for the bell to ring. As I turn the corner, a soda can flies past me, inches from my nose. Before I can say a word, I hear laughing. Shaking my head, I lean against the wall, while still listening to music.
“Hey, are you okay?” Heather asks. She was the one who threw the soda can.
“Yea, it didn’t hit me.”
“No, I mean that scratch on your face. I noticed it at the bus stop.”
“Oh that, it’s nothing. My cat was sleeping on my pillow,” I answer, feeling a bit awkward. “So what happened here?” Might as well try to change the subject.
“He said something about my sister, so I threw a soda can at him.” She was referring to one of the guys that live near the school, which happens to be my ex-boyfriend.
“Right…” is all I could really say. I then escape back into my music while I wait for the bell to ring.
By the way, I’m Jennifer, your normal fourteen year old living in a small town in a larger city and I am in the eighth grade. Nothing really special to see here, so let’s move on.
I’m in my first period class, gym, yea, a great class to have first thing in the morning, I know. Before heading to the gym or the track, we meet in a normal classroom, which is also used for health during the first part of the year.
“Alright class,” a tall and very skinny female coach says. Standing next to her is a young male who is half her height. “I know it’s past the middle of the school year, but we have a new student.”
Murmurs are heard throughout the class room as the brown haired kid looks at the other students.
“Kyle Roberts comes to us from another school. Treat him with respect and make him feel welcomed to our school. Please sit anywhere, Kyle, we’ll be leaving here shortly.”
Following the new student with my brown eyes, I get this strange feeling that I’ve met him somewhere before. The teacher said that he came from another school. Maybe he lives in the area.
“Today we will be in the gym. Basketball and volleyball will be available for play. Head to the lockers and then to the gym, I will be taking roll call there so if anyone wants to skip, detention will be given out.”
The class walks out towards the gym, the usual clicks get together and I notice that the new kid is alone walking at the back of the line. Being shy myself and unable to just talk to someone out of the blue, I continue to walk on.
“Just go talk to him,” my friend Teresa says, once we make it to the locker room.
The walk from the classroom to the locker room isn’t a long one. The middle school that I attend, River Grove, is the type where you have to walk outside to get to the next class. It’s early morning but the humidity and heat is already starting to kick in.
“Huh, what are you talking about?” I stammer.
“I saw you looking at him in class,” she nudges me, as we walk into the girl’s locker room.
“I just thought that I knew him, that’s all,” I say while opening my locker.
“Well you won’t know until you talk to him, right?”
“Ummm, I’m sure I don’t, so what does it matter anyway?”
“How old are you now,” Teresa persists, “And still without a boyfriend?”
“So? What’s your point? I had one already and we both know how that turned out.”
“I swear, you can’t be serious,” she says, closing her locker.
“Whatever.” I finish getting dressed, quickly putting on the orange shorts and white t-shirt and heading out to the gym.
Sure, she had a point, but so what. Not more than a year ago I had a taste of the relationship scene and that ended in drama, something that I could do without for a long time. Funny thing is, Teresa was part of that mess or at least the one feeding the information about my cheating ex-boyfriend. To this day I’m not sure if her intentions were good or not and quiet honestly I’m not even sure why I’m still friends with her. The thing is, one of my weaknesses is letting people off the hook after doing something bad to me. I tend to forgive way too easily and perhaps a bit too soon. To my defense, it’s always good to keep your enemies in range rather than away from your sight, right?
Waving her hand in front of my face, Teresa says, “Hey, are you just going to stand there all period?”
Rubbing my eye, I can see that Teresa is doing her usual: walking over to the guys to just talk all period. I normally play basketball with a friend of mine from sixth grade but sadly, Jeremy is out sick today. Looking around the gym, most of the students are just talking while sitting on the wooden floor. As long as we go to class and pass the final, gym at this school has to be the easiest class to get an A in.
The new kid is off by himself, the usual site when someone new comes to this school. Rather than just standing around mindlessly for the remainder of the class, I decide to do something out of my comfort zone and walk over to where he is, throwing a basketball into the net.
“Hey there,” I say. Great first impression, huh?
“Hi.”
Small talk at its finest.
“So are you new to the area?” I ask.
“Yes and no. I tend to move around a lot,” a pause before Kyle says, “Hey didn’t we go to the same elementary school together?”
“Ummmmm….” This is why I don’t talk to many people. My lack of communication skills tends to shine.
“It wouldn’t have been for long, I was only down here for kindergarten and first grade.”
“Sorry, I don’t—-” I try to remember as my ears grow hot from being embarrassed. Did we really go to the same school together before?
Laughing, Kyle brushes a piece of brown hair that fell in front of his eyes, “Don’t worry about it, it was years ago anyway. I sort of have a good memory.”
“Ah, I see,” I say, unable to think of what to say next.
“Wanna play?”
“Huh” I snap out of my daze.
“Basketball, unless, oh, you don’t know how?” he teases.
I blink a few times; taken aback at what Kyle just said, “Excuse me?”
Laughing, he throws me the basketball and we play until the end of class.
The rest of the day and the last remaining before Spring Break pass by in a blur. Kyle and I talk a few times before the break and it turns out that we did go to the same school together. I still don’t remember much, but then again, I was six at the time.
During Spring Break I get to baby sit seven year old Miles Winder. I don’t mind spending my free time doing this since I’m a friend of the family.
“Alright, so what do you want to do today?” I ask him.
“Watch TV!” he exclaims.
“You sure? I think there are a few chores around the house that could be done,” I tease.
“No way! I’m on vacation!”
“Calm down, I’m only kidding. Let’s see what’s on.”
The sky begins to darken as the day draws on. Miles has been watching TV and eating snacks all day while I’ve been on the couch next to him, playing on my handheld video game system.
The phone rings, “Hello?”
“Jennifer, it’s Sara, I’m going to be a little late coming home. One of the temps called out and it’s been hectic here. I can pay you extra and there’s food in the refrigerator for dinner.”
“Don’t worry about it, I really don’t mind,” I reassure her.
“Oh thank you, I’ll make this up to you, see you later tonight.”
I hang up the phone and head back to the sofa. “Your mom is going to be late, so think of what you want for dinner.”
“Pizza!” he says immediately.
“Do you have any pizza here?”
“Nope, we don’t.”
“Well that doesn’t help, right? We need to eat here since it’s going to rain soon.”
“If we take the bus, we should be able to get to the mall before it rains. The storm is still pretty far off,” Miles says.
“And how do you know that?” I cross my arms.
“The thunder! It’s still fourteen miles away.”
“Huh-huh” That little show off. He isn’t the best in his class and smarter for his own age for nothing. “But do you know how fast the storm is moving and from where?”
He picks up the TV remote and switches to the weather channel, “This is why we have this great technology at our fingertips.”
We listen in on the male reporter, “…today it will be 30% chance of rain, with temperatures in the mid to high 80’s. We do have a system moving in from the west….”
“See! It’s still over the swamp, we’ll be fine!” Miles hops up from the sofa and in front of me.
“But how can it be 30% chance of rain when there’s a storm right on the radar?” Shaking my head and standing, “I just don’t get it.”
It takes us little over an hour to finally get to the mall. It is packed with teenagers and young adults, most are talking and hanging out instead of shopping.
Miles and I are sitting at the very edge of the food court, enjoying our pizza.
“Good idea, right?” Miles proudly says.
“Yea, I have to admit, it was.”
Then we start to hear the commotion.
“Oh my god, did you hear!”
“What’s happening?”
“It’s all over the news!”
Miles and I both look around for the source and we notice a crowd forming in front of the music store. The TVs are tuned into the local news station.
“Think it could be a tornado?” I shiver. “I really hate those things.”
“I hope not,” Miles says, a bit worried.
“Nah, I don’t think it—” but I’m cut off by a frantic women who is running towards the exit.
“They say it’s an attack! Oh my god we’re going to die!”
