confessions-by-us

This story is by Ashley Lanham, so all credit goes to her for writing and editing it. She says it'll be seeing more updates, so stay tuned...

Chapter One

Down the street and to the right, that’s where we’re headed. Across where the path curves strenuously sharp onto the next corner. We were both fine, nothing could have gone wrong…at least, not that one of us would have known, anyway. Pedaling to the metal goes too sharp of a turn. Why is the bike swerving? Where did that stop sign come from? It’s too late to turn left or I’ll smash into Claire. No one saw it coming. The deep shock in Claire’s face made her look paler than anyone’s ever seen her because she has an all-year natural tan. All that was heard was a giant thud and the slicing shrill of metal against metal. Heart pounding through her stomach, wide-eyed Claire dove to the ground to measure the damage.
Sirens. Bunches of sirens in my direction, but where are they? Why can’t I move or open my eyes? Finally after the long silence, I returned to my world in the hospital bed, but the scenery wasn’t quite right. Cluttered clothes were all over the chairs and entry way followed by odd paintings on the walls. Pictures in different views of a bloody head and a wrecked face disturbed the peace until the realization struck. Oh my goodness, that’s me! How could this have happened? Then I remembered the incident by Claire’s house. Violent sobs came rushing out. Even stranger was the invasion of someone who looked exactly like myself coming nearer. The clone of me tried to reach out, but she’s too far away. My sobs turned into screams when…

The vision fades into a hot flash and heavy breathing. Everything will be all right, I whisper to myself. What seems like more tears but are only the beginning ones boil up in my eyes. Just another stupid dream, I mumble.

* * * * * * *

“Yeah, I had another freaky dream last night, but it seemed so real,” I mention to Claire, my best friend, the next day.
“If it’s so weird like you say, it could mean something, Audrey,” Claire replies.
“Oh, you know how I am though. All my dreams have something uncertain about them.”
“Yeah, like I said, they may be trying to say something to you.”
“Maybe you’re right. Hey, sorry but I have to go to class. I’ll see you at lunch!” I ran off to History class before I was late. Mr. Watkins is always certain about that kind of stuff. At age 35 he still has the sharpest eye of any teacher I’ve ever known. He’s also one of the most intelligent. I mean, sure he’s a teacher and has a degree, but I’m not talking about teacher smart. I’m talking about the type of teacher who can look at you and know your family heritage. You know, the type of teacher who walks, talks, and calculates probably more than a computer. Now that’s what I call intelligent.

“Good morning, Mrs. Megelicutty,” I say cheerfully as I pass one of my English teachers. She smiles and answers back. I don’t know why Mrs. Megelicutty is one of my favorite teachers. I guess there’s just something about her that all students like about her. She doesn’t tolerate rudeness; she’s good with sarcasm and joking around, but she also talks in a fancy way that students are annoyed by. Well whatever the scenario, she has always been there to help me out.

The bell rings as I start to sit at my desk. The teacher comes in a couple minutes later as usual and immediately starts talking.
“Today is going to be a slow but simple day. Get out your textbooks and turn to page 562. I’ll pass out these worksheets and they’ll be due at the end of class. You know the routine, no talking and if you have a question come up to my desk and ask me. Most likely you won’t be talking to your neighbor about the economy of Europe, anyway,” Mr. Watkins blabbed on.
Great, I thought to myself. Even though there are only 25 questions, I’m the slowest worker in my class. Having an hour and forty-five minutes does help, but reading the entire chapter will take at least an hour of my time. Skimming the questions and looking for answers plus writing them down will probably take up until the last minute if I don’t daydream today.

Taking the newly sharpened pencil and the textbook from my bag, I began to look over the worksheet as it was passed around. I flipped the pages in my textbook to the proper pages and began to read. Within twenty seconds I was drained with boredom and was half falling asleep. The only way I can pay attention is if Mr. Watkins is talking because he actually makes the class interesting. The book, on the other hand, makes the class extremely dull. I try shaking my head to see if I can snap out of boredom. Eventually it works and as I began reading again, I’m sucked into the descriptions of the book.
Instead of daydreaming, however, images began flashing into my mind. What are they? I wonder until they were clear enough to me. An explosion happens in a familiar place, but I just cannot bring myself to remember it. Another one depicts a teacher crying or something of the sort. Who is that? What is going on? Why do these images seem so realistic? By the time I come back to reality I have gotten eleven questions answered already. It’s in my handwriting, but I have no memory of writing them. People can sure do some odd things while they’re spaced out. I glance over at the clock behind me. 10:12 reads the time. Wow I sure wasted most of my time and now there’s only 19 minutes left. That’s just wonderful.
Picking up the pencil where I left off, I finish most of the questions. By the time the bell rings, I have 24 questions done. I cram my textbook and papers into my bag so I won’t be late meeting Claire for lunch. In the hallways I see familiar faces. Some of them teachers, others are just people I’ve seen before. As the people pass, I get very few smiles. Sometimes I even receive dirty looks, but everyone mostly ignores me.

“Audrey! Over here!” I look to my back and see some of Claire’s other friends surrounding her, blocking my view. It’s not that Claire is tiny, her other friends are just a few inches taller than her. I casually walked over to the group she was in the middle of.
“Hi there,” I said after gradually walking up next to Claire. It’s not difficult to hear the whispers and giggles of people, saying that I’m weird or walk funny. I glance at Claire to see if she notices it too. She doesn’t appear to be angry or upset, she looks more as if she’s concentrating on something. I look around and try to watch the direction she’s staring, moving my head around and spying on different people all at the same time.
“Whom are you searching for?” asks Claire, not noticing that she stopped staring a while ago as I continued to.
“Oh, no one. I was just looking around like usual just to see if I could find somebody new in this lunch is all.”
“Okay whatever you say. Hey let’s sit at that table over there; it looks like it has enough room.” Everyone follows Claire. There’s something about her that everyone adores. I’ve known her for years, even before she became the center of attention, and I still don’t know what it is. I’m not jealous of her, probably because she’s my best friend and I don’t get that way because personally I wouldn’t choose her crowd anyway. There are similarities we share, but we are probably the two most opposites other than that factor. She would rather have everyone around her; I would rather have no one. You see, I’m independent for myself, however, Claire is dependent on herself to the point where she always needs someone around. Maybe that’s why she was chosen; she lives off of people and therefore has many friends.
“Why are you just standing here, aren’t you going to get in line with us?” Claire looks puzzled.
“Nah I’m not that hungry. I’ll grab a snack at the vending machine later,” I answer lazily. I sit down at the table and think about the very first time I had met Claire.
I was only four and had just moved into the neighborhood. I was a little shy because I was new, but other than that I was pretty outgoing and loud. I can picture the houses and yards perfectly as if it were only yesterday. A short and fairly long brick house with bushes of green and maze of purple, pink, and white flowers were only visible on the right side besides the windows. A huge oak tree surrounded the yard. About a five foot long porch was in the middle of the front of the house; not much of anything there except maybe a window, a sitting swing, and the front door. I used to ride my bicycle past that house everyday.
One day was different, however. One day a girl about my age and a few inches taller than me stood outside by her tree, watching me. She had long, pretty brown hair and bright green eyes. She sort of had freckles, but they weren’t noticeable unless you stared at her for a while. I wasn’t really sure how to react to this, so I kept riding my bike. About five minutes passed, and she still stood there. Finally I was ready to stop my bike when something jammed the break from working. I looked down to see that my pants were caught in the chain. Frantically I tried to pull myself from it in order not to make a fool of myself in front of this stranger. The bicycle stopped moving while I was trying to free myself, and I toppled over with the bicycle crushing my right leg. The unfamiliar girl came rushing over to see if I was all right.
She grabbed the bike and pulled it off of me. I knew she saw the tears well up in my eyes and stream down my face. She knelt down beside me.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah I think I’m fine,” I said weakly.
“My name is Claire, what’s yours?”
“I’m Audrey, nice to meet you.”
“Thanks, you too. So I’m guessing you just moved in across the street.”
“Yep.”
“Well would you like to come inside?”
“I don’t know. I might have to put my bike up and ask my mom and dad.”
“Oh, well I’ll help you put your bike up, but maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay, that works,” I said as she grabbed my hand and lifted us both off the ground. The memory faded and I was staring at someone’s lunch tray. I looked up to see everyone watching me in concern.
“Are you okay, Aud? You kind of spaced out for a bit,” Claire sat still while watching my every move.
“A bit? She was out with that goofy look on her face for three minutes!” shouts one of Claire’s “followers”, as I like to call them.
“What a freak,” I hear someone else barely whisper. Moving my view towards Claire, I wonder what she was thinking. She didn’t look mad, but she just sat still with her mouth ajar. She was probably wondering what I was thinking. I suddenly smash my hands on the table to make a great “thud” and get everyone’s attention. Claire turns to me and I give the “why didn’t you say anything” look followed by me getting up and grabbing my stuff to leave.
“Jensen!” She glares at one of her followers. “Audrey, where are you going?”
“I’ll talk to you later! Bye,” I say coldly, walking away. I could feel everyone’s eyes on my back. My face feels red like it was starting to heat up. That kind of thing happens when I am nervous or embarrassed. I decide to head to my class early. It’s not like anyone is in there anyway. My shoes squeak down the long hallway as I near the door. The lights are turned off, which means the door is probably locked. I try to open it anyway, but it isn’t locked. I reach for the light switch and the room became suddenly brighter than usual.
Hm, they must’ve changed the lights, I think to myself. Walking to the very back of the room to sit in my chair, I drop my bag on the floor hard because I don’t care what happened to it at this moment. I just want to go home, I think, closing my eyes. Silent tears began to squeeze from the closed corners of my eyes. No, I will not cry. I should be used to this. Stop right now! I slowly open my eyes back up and notice that my tears thankfully never fell.
I want to go back to sleep and dream again. I’m just afraid of what I might see when I do. Footsteps walk down the hallways occasionally. One teacher pops her head in.
“Is Mrs. Green in here?” The woman asks. She’s a little obese than normal with straight red hair and strange, freckled skin.
“Uh, no I haven’t seen her yet. I’m sorry,” I say.
“Well tell her that Mr. Green needs to discuss a meeting with her down in the lounge,” she finally says.
“Okay, I’ll tell her right away.”
“Thanks,” she says and leaves quickly before I can even say ‘you’re welcome’. I try to start daydreaming again, but with having no luck at all, I just lay my head down. Finally I space out as I hear the bell ringing, which means lunch is over and class is now starting. Usually Mrs. Green is in here by now, I wonder where she is. Footsteps of many students rush violently up the stairs. Something in my memory flashes and I see a picture. I can’t tell what it is, but I know it looks familiar. Somebody calls out my name, but I cannot answer back. My jaw opens wide but I can’t say or see anything. Another person starts to shake my arm to get my attention, but before I can react I black out.

Chapter Two

Shivering into consciousness, I awaken from a never-ending sleep. I’m lying on hard, cracked ground in what looks like the middle of nowhere. To figure out where I am, I get up and start walking around. In the distance I hear some sort of rumbling noise. This place is deserted. There is no sign or proof of any existence here at all, so how come I’m here? How did I get here? The soft, humid wind blows through my clothes and messes up my hair. Not that my hair looks brilliant, anyway.
As I near in no particular direction at all, the rumbling noise becomes louder and more distinct. Instead of looking straight ahead, my head droops down, watching the deformed land. I sped up my pace and noticed the cracks started to grow wider. That’s odd, it wasn’t like that before. When I stopped to think, I heard a certain sound that was familiar to me, but I still couldn’t remember it. It kind of sounded like a wood-splitting noise except larger and more solid. I finally looked up and saw a thin black line across the plain with the sunlight on top of it, outlining the horizon.
My eyes bulged from their sockets because I realized what was happening. At that point my legs went out from under me in a flipping motion. I reached for the edge of the cliff, but my grip kept slipping every time I tried to lift myself from the danger. There’s too much heat and I’m feeling light-headed. Keep pushing yourself; you have to gain support from your arms and the height of the cliff. Don’t give up. To my surprise I kept pushing myself and eventually I lifted myself up out of the endless pit that formed. Good things happen when you believe in yourself, a voice suddenly whispered. I thought it was only in my head, but there were signs that it could have been someone else. When I looked around to see if anyone was actually there, my eyesight failed to notice anything.
I got up and started walking again. It was better than just lying on the ground staring off into space. Like before, there was no one in sight. As tired as I was feeling, I dropped to my knees and started breathing heavily. I rolled on the ground for a while trying to regain energy, and then I decided to drag myself a little further. But this time when I looked up I didn’t see the dry, cracked land. I saw green and marvelous forests surrounding all. With no sign of looking back, I ran through the entanglement of trees and braches as fast as possible. Feeling so much of joy that I hadn’t noticed the limb buried underneath the weeds and I tripped over it and smashed my jaw into the hard lawn. From my chin up to my temple I felt numbness. Owww, I whimpered inside. It felt like it was cracked, but I would highly doubt it. My whole bone structure is made for anything. I could take on steel and not break anything. Until now I never really knew how well my body could take so many hard hits.
I dragged myself up weakly, blinked, and looked all around me. In the corner of my eye I thought I saw something. I turned all the way in that direction to make sure nothing was in my next pathway. Slowly I reach for a branch to support me as I start to walk forward again. In the distance I see a colorful lump about sixty feet ahead of me. Eager to find out what the object was, I gradually speed up and over to it. Another body lay in front of me. She appeared to be passed out, or dead, either way it wasn’t a good situation. I knelt down beside the girl, grabbed her arm and searched for a pulse. Nothing. The longer I held her arm in my palm, the stronger the grip of the girl’s hand clinging to mine. It was odd that she had no pulse, but yet she was showing a reaction by clinging to my hand. Her grasp became tighter as the minutes passed. I showed no reaction or emotion as I watched the useless creature—dead― right in front of my eyes.
It’s hard to believe I was practically holding a deceased person other than the fact that I thought I was going to help them. Something about her made me upset as if I actually know this person. If only I could see her face maybe I’d be able to identify that I know her somehow. I swept the lengthy, straight brown hair from her face. She only looked about 17 years old, barely a year older from my own age. Her legs were curled up to her body and slanted sideways as if she had just started to look into the sky but fell asleep while doing so. Her left arm lay across her stomach, the right one still holding on to me. I desperately examined the physical features of this girl’s face. It was killing me to figure out who she was. She seemed so familiar, but I knew I was so far away from finding her identity.
The wind blew tightly against the trees making them sway. My hair and the other girl’s hair kept guarding our faces. I tried to push hers out of the way so I could look more closely. Her appellation was on the tip of my tongue, so close I could have almost exploded trying to remember it. I moved her head sideways just to see if it would make any difference. I heard and barely saw something lying beside her. I picked the object up and found that it was a notebook. I didn’t notice at first, but there were drops of blood on the cover. Not that many at all, but ironically there was no sign of blood on the girl. I wasn’t paying attention because of my confusion and somehow the notebook slipped away from my grip and went under the teen’s left arm, still covering her stomach.
Finally noticing what happened not long after my distraction, I scooted closely to look over the girl. She has no pulse, how could she possibly be moving? I thought.
A few moments later while I was still staring down at the body I thought I saw a sudden movement, but sometimes my eyes play tricks on me. I bent my head down to stare directly at the face. Suddenly and quickly her eyelids flew open and glared at me.
“Surprise,” was all she had to say.
Startled, I flew backwards about five feet and shrieked.

Chapter Three

What seems like seconds later, I’m awaking up from a terrifying slumber. My vision became blurry until I got used to the light and people surrounding me. I can’t tell whether I’m still in Mrs. Green’s room, or my own home, but I know I am in a familiar place. I hear muffled voices at first, then a wide range of different sounds from “be quiet” to “shush”. Everyone watches and waits for my next move. I begin to feel sweaty and my palms are clammy. I open my mouth to speak, but all that came out was a lingering drone. My mother drops to her knees by my bed.
“What is it, honey?” she put her hands on top on my wrists and stares at me gravely. My father comes behind her and put his hands on her shoulders.
“Come on, Mary, give her some space,” he says as he pulls her up and they step back a few feet. Again, I open my mouth and all that comes out are squeaks. With a little frustration, I finally clear my throat and eventually spoke again.
“I’m okay,” I manage to whisper. My mother rushes over again and hugs me while she can. I feel her breathing skip a beat because of her sobs. My father then stands beside her to calm her down while sighing and smiling back at me. You can tell he is thankful.
“How are you feeling now?” he asks, still smiling.
“Still a little weak, but I’ll make it through,” I say, smiling back.
“That’s wonderful,” he says. My mother pulls away so my dad can give me a hug too. As he edges closer I think I see another figure out of the corner of my eye. I focus my attention around my room and notice that there are other people, not just my parents. I look back at where the other figure was standing before; I take note that she looks like Mrs. Green. At last we made eye contact, and as we did she fled from the room.
“Wait!” I start to shout.
“What is it? Who’s there?” My mom looked over in the direction I was pointing. I realize that no one is there and it is just my imagination. “I’m sorry, I can’t see anyone there. Maybe you should get some more sleep. We’ll leave you alone for a while.”
“What time is it?” I ask.
“It’s about 5:58pm. Don’t worry about it; get some rest,” My parents both leave the room. I look to my left and standing there is Heather from school. She looks concerned and tired at the same time with a smile on her face. I tried to smile back but instead I sneeze.
“Bless you,” Heather says and grabs a tissue from my nightstand.
“Thanks,” I reply and we both laugh at the awkwardness. Heather and I were never really close friends. She’s shy too, so when we’re alone it’s good to have someone who you occasionally talk to. “I didn’t even know you knew where I live. How did I get here so fast?”
“Fast? You were out for four hours or so! We were all worried about you. I called out your name and tried shaking your arm, but you didn’t respond. You fell out of your seat and passed out on the floor. I rushed to the teacher’s phone and called the nurse, and then we called your parents. We just waited here until you woke up; the nurse reassured your parents that you’d be all right, so she left. Your mom and dad told me I didn’t have to stay, but I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you so much for staying though,” I gave her a big smile. That just made my day. Wow, I thought. I never realized what a wonderful friend she is. I would’ve gladly done the same for her, but it’s just so surprising in a way.
“Anytime,” she smiled back.
“But didn’t Mrs. Green help too? I mean, she was here watching me too,” I decide to state.
“What? Mrs. Green wasn’t here; she never even came to class today either,” Heather looks extremely puzzled.
“But I...I thought I just saw...” I cut my sentence short. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore.
“Oh! So that’s who you were pointing to earlier,” I barely even talk to Heather and yet she can tell me my whole life’s story.
“You don’t think I’m crazy, do you?” I ask.
“Crazy! Why would you think that? I would never think that about you, Audrey.”
“I’m glad.” Awkward silence fell in the room. I don’t know whether she was about to say something or leave, but we both heard the pounding of footsteps rushing down the hallway.
“Audrey!” Claire’s voice echoed throughout my room. “I got here― oh hey, Heather. Were you two having a private conversation? Would you like me to leave and come back in a few minutes?”
“No! That’s fine, I was just leaving. Bye Audrey, see you tomorrow during first period.” Heather left in a hurry.
“Oh Audrey, I came as soon as your mother called me! I can’t believe this happened. If only I had known sooner. I’m so sorry,” she keeps babbling on. Then she grabs me in a tight embrace and rocks me back and forth. I try to hug her back, but she’s holding on too tight. I wonder about Heather and why she left so suddenly, then I remember something she told me before. Since she’s like me, a loner and usually by herself most of the time, people like Claire aren’t really on her friends list. Heather just thinks Claire has too many friends and she might be uncomfortable around her. Because Claire has all the friends in the world, she’s always been fairly nice to Heather. Like me, Claire never usually hangs out with Heather. I zone back in to pay attention to what Claire has to say.
“I still cannot believe this happened. I don’t know how you can survive those blackouts. I would just freak out!” I giggle and remember that Claire is a tad bit of a drama queen.
I finally decide to speak up before she loses her head. “Calm down, I’m perfectly fine. I promise you. Now I’ll see you tomorrow. Everything is fine, and I won’t worry about what happened today. I’ve had enough stress already.”
“Yay! I’m glad you feel that way. Oh, and these are for you to make up for it,” she handed me two purple hyacinths wrapped in plastic.
“Aw, thank you. You know you didn’t have to though.”
“I know, but I feel bad. I better run home. You know how mom is, if I’m not home before dark she’ll get worried, even if she does know I’m across the street. Oh well. See you!” Dark, I thought. I look over at my alarm clock on the nightstand. It reads 7:02pm.

My stomach grumbles. That’s right, I didn’t even eat lunch, and I doubt they tried to feed me while I was unconscious. I walk out of the room and down the hallway into the kitchen. I open the door to the refrigerator, but there are only leftovers.
“Ugh, I’ll pass,” I mumble and go back to my room. Chills run up my spine as I head toward the window. Darkness washes upon our neighborhood like the tides on a beach. The moon shines brightly, more than usual. It looks sympathetic in a way like it’s mourning someone special. I pick up the hyacinths Claire brought to me. Their fragrance is very sweet. I think they mean “I am sorry” or “Please forgive me”. Of course Claire would know because she looks into this kind of stuff. My aunt is a florist, so she would know too. The first time Claire met my aunt at her Flower Shop was the start of her interests in flowers and their colors and meanings. She would ask my opinion on certain ones, some of which I had never heard of. My perspective on some of their meanings was totally different too. I didn’t know what an aster was, or what it even looked like for that matter. I had no idea that a lilac meant ‘youthful innocence’, or that a sun flower meant ‘pure thoughts’, I didn’t even know they had meanings at all. Of course everyone has an interest of their own. Some are more interesting than others, but I guess that’s just the way it goes. Claire’s flower interest is amazing for sure. Another good one is dreams. Dreams can tell you everything or nothing at all. Claire would talk to me about dreams, but only because of her cousin’s interest in it.
I feel a sudden urge in my skull. I sit on the edge of my bed for a moment, putting the flowers on my nightstand. I remember that they are poisonous, so I have to be careful around them. My main focus is the throbbing in my brain about something I mentioned earlier. What was I thinking about? There has to be something that’s bothering me. Minutes pass and my mind is still blank. I pick my legs up on my bed and hug them close to me, falling sideways and hitting the soft, cushiony pillows. In an instant, my body starts burning. A few seconds after listening to my pulse increase, I stride over to the window again. The heat overpowers me and I’m forced to sit on my knees with my face buried into my arms until the churning in my stomach vanishes. My adrenaline depreciates and I am able to unlock the window.
I’ve felt this type of heat before, but it wasn’t this bad. I didn’t even notice the pain. How do I know so much about it? It seems so familiar. Come on think! With rage beginning to build up inside I thrust open the window an inch or two. The cool breeze feels like ice across my face. I take deep, slow breaths until my body temperature feels normal again. After resting my head on the windowsill and staring out into the front yard, I decide I better sleep for tomorrow.

* * * * * * *

Walking to school on a foggy, cloudy autumn day isn’t as bad if you know where you are. Our neighborhood stretches far enough that you can travel to school easily even on harsh days like these. The school is less than a mile away from my house, so I try every chance I can get to avoid the bus’ chaos. This neighborhood is fairly decent and we don’t have the trouble like other neighborhoods do.
Even though it is fall time it’s not nearly as cold as it should be. This year is the year where we set the all time record for heat because it usually becomes colder at an early time instead of later than it should be. Unlike other girls I’ve known who turn chilly easily, I’m scorched almost all the time. Ever since last night when I had that sudden urge of heat, however, I have been getting sudden shivers. They’re not like the ones you get from a sudden childhood memory you don’t want to remember; they are much longer lasting and make you feel as though someone is standing right next to you, watching your every move.

Moving faster I realize that this neighborhood has too many houses bunched up together. It’s interesting what families live inside; sometimes you can just look into a window and see people going on with their daily lives. I look a few houses down from where I’m standing and see a window open. There’s a girl looking out, turning her head to see what today will be like. As I edge closer to the house her gaze finally falls on me. I squint my eyes to get a better view of her. I’ve seen her before. I frantically look at the ground to gather my thoughts. It never crossed my mind until now: She’s the dead girl in my dream! When I look back at the window the figure is gone and it’s as if the window had never opened.

I led myself to the school with confusion the whole way there. The school looks desolate and infamous, crawling with a mysterious glow. The reddish bricks of the school are older than my great-grandparents and starting to chip away like the bark of an elderly tree. I knew this was going to be a horrific day.
The upstairs hallway lights are flickering as I walk past. My first period class is just around the corner. I’m even afraid of finding out what’s going on lately. I inhale oxygen from the polluted hallways, and then exhale deeply, sounding like a sigh but ending with a slight hint of a yawn. I pull the door open enough to hear a large squeaking noise that eventually gathered all the attention on me. I stood staring at about twenty-seven students, all of them with red, puffy, teary-eyed faces and tissues by their side. All the desks were pushed together to form one huge table with newspapers scattered on them. I spot Heather sitting alone like usual, her face burrowed into her arms, crying. I rush over by her side and set my stuff down. The seat next to her is free, so I sit down and whisper: “Heather, what’s going on?” At that time, Claire rushes over.
“Oh, Audrey! It’s so horrible,” she wails. Before I have time to react, Claire wraps herself around my shoulders and starts bawling her eyes out. Furious for being the only clueless one in the room, I grab Claire, look her in the eyes, and force her to tell me what is going on. In a way she looks like someone I’ve seen very recently, but who? Her straightened hair, her glaring eyes all seem familiar. Then the thought hit me like a brick. She looks like the girl in the window, and the girl in my dream, but I know they’re not the same person. No way can they be the same. The very last thought hit me: It’s her cousin, Menellie! She’s the one that’s been following my thoughts. I haven’t seen her in years though. Why has this been happening? My thoughts were erased when Claire started to speak. Her voice was shaky.
“It’s Mrs. Green…she’s dead.”

Chapter Four

“What?” I ask in disbelief. “Sh-she’s…dead?”
“Did you show her the article?” Claire manages to get out. Heather reaches over and hands me a newspaper article. It’s fairly new, freshly printed and sent out this morning. The article is boldly visible because it’s circled with a combination of red and black pens. Teardrops are visible through parts of the paper as I read:

Karen Jayne Elliot Green, 31, Black River Falls, died Oct. 14 when a vehicle collided with hers, sending her into a ravine nearby. She was an Algebra teacher ten years for Black River Falls High School. Services: 3 p.m. Oct. 17 in Buswell Funeral Home, with calling from 5 to 9 p.m. Oct. 16. Burial Neillsville Cemetery. Survivors: husband Robert P. Green; parents Louise and Clyde Faldlock; brothers Jimmy and Kaluby Faldlock, sister Ruby Mae Jousten.

I can’t read on from there; it is just too painful. There are other articles talking about the accident, but that has made everyone break down instead. I never really saw the big deal with Mrs. Green. She was rude, obnoxious, disrespectful, and it didn’t seem like she cared for anyone, or vice versa. Now that she is gone, however, everyone became mournful.
The obituary lightly floats out of my hands and to the carpeted floor. More tears well up in Claire and she rushes over to my side again. Her embrace struck me so hard I lost my breath for a couple seconds. Once again, I don’t have time to hug her back because her grip almost strangles me. I watch as Heather briefly bends down to pick up the article. She straightens it out to make the folds and creases disappear. Claire continues to whine. She was always a teacher’s pet, so usually tragedies like this have an impact on her.
“Oh but Audrey, she was my favorite teacher!” she squeaks.
“I know, I know. Shh, it’s all right,” I pat her on the back to comfort her. I can feel her tears soaking my shirt and running into my skin. My eyes start to fog up followed by a lump straining my throat. After a while I break away from Claire and decide to just leave. As I start for the door, Heather and Claire pull me back and ask where I’m headed.
“I don’t know, I just need to get away from school right now,” I whisper. The tears have flooded by now.
“Can I come with you? I don’t think we’re going to have class today anyway,” Claire sniffles.
“Um, sure why not. Heather do you want to come along?”
“No thanks, I’ll stay here. You go ahead.”
“Hey, Audrey, you go ahead for a minute, I have to do something. I’ll be out there in about five minutes,” Claire says. I sneak out the door before anyone else notices me. I walk briskly down the hallway until I’m completely sure no one has caught me. I’m about to run down the stairs when I hear someone else call my name.
“Audrey Wellford, is that you?” I turn around and see Mr. Green staring at me. I freeze in my place and turn my head slightly to speak.
“Um, yes. I, uh, just came from M-Mrs. Green’s room. I’m sorry for your loss,” I barely whisper to him. It’s hard to meet his eyes. He looks down to the floor.
“Oh, um, thank you I suppose. You know, Mrs. Green thought a lot of you.”
“She did?” I ask in disbelief. Usually teachers do not share this information with their students unless they know them outside of school somehow or your parents are close friends with them, then you would rarely associate with teachers about anything personal. Mr. Green and I have neither factors, and on top of this fact he doesn’t seem like the type of person to share personal info, or seem to know anything about his wife. Although now that I think about it, it is an emotional time for him.
“Yeah, she did. She thought a lot about all of her students, but especially you and Claire Nabels, I believe her name is.”
“Yes, that’s her. Well it was nice talking to you, Mr. Green. I have to go now.”
“You too. Where are you going?”
“Oh, I’m not feeling well, so I’m going to the nurse.”
“Well I hope you feel better. Have a nice day,” he says in a monotone.
“Thanks.” And I walk down the stairs solemnly, smiling to myself that I had actually gone through with telling a white lie. Usually I can never get away with something like that, but I actually had for once. Now that I think about it, it’s not a very good case scenario to lie, but this is just too tough to handle.
By the time I reach the entrance doors, the bell rings signifying that period one is over. I push open the doors to the entrance stairs and casually walk down to the grass. Crunchy, orange and red leaves start to drift from the branches and land near my feet. Fresh morning dew still covers the grass as I reach down to pick up one of the fallen leaves. It looks familiar; it resembles me. Alone and broken, silent and invisible to all the rest, drifting farther away as time passes. In a recent dream, I smash and crunch up the helpless foliage, but now, seeing them so pitiful, I want to hold it. I want to give it shelter and be its caretaker; only it’s impossible. Its fate has already been chosen, and soon it will be gone. Blown away by the wind from its forsaken home, or shriveled up into nothingness.
A chilling breeze passes, and the old, auburn traveler begins its next journey. My thoughts are filled with much sorrow as I crouch down to gather more leaves. Cold, harsh tears fill up, but do not fall. I clutch the moist grass as a headache starts to approach. Crying because of the pain that now mixes with somber-filled loneliness, I scream without mercy.

Someone calls for me. A voice that’s so familiar, but a name that is so distance.
“Audrey!” she says. “Wake up! Please don’t do this to me,” I can barely manage to hear. Drops of rain begin to fall upon my cheeks, and I finally look up to see where I am. Claire, looking down at me even though she’s so close, suddenly dries up her tears and tightens her grip with a hug. I blink, shooting chills across my body and through my arms that allow me to clench my fists. I strike something in my palm. I look down to see a crumbled-up, reddish-brown leaf that’s now withered into numerous pieces.
I look to Claire with a pouty expression and the tears start to fall.
“Oh, Audrey, it’s just a dirty old leaf,” she says as she wipes the rest of the remains off my hand like a mother would for her child if they stuck their hands in dirt. The comment just makes me cry even more. “Stop, you’re fine, you’re okay, stop crying. Audrey, please,” but the tears wouldn’t stop flowing. “Come on, let’s go.” She holds onto my arm as she stands up, pulling me with her. We walk to her car in silence as I dry up the rest of my tears with my sleeves.
Most of the drive is silent also; I don’t mind it much, but Claire always has to have something to do. She sees silence as a horrible thing, and even worse, louder than the most obnoxious noise.
“So…where are we headed?” she asks, breaking the tension.
“It doesn’t matter to me,” I mumble.
“Oh come on, there has to be some place you want to visit.”
“Cemetery Hill.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said, Cemetery Hill.”
“First of all, that’s like, 24 miles away from here. Second, that cemetery is soooo creepy! Why would you want to go there anyway?” Claire complains.
“I miss grandma,” I say while I bury my head in my knees and wrap my arms around them as the tears madly spray out.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I forgot!” Claire reaches over and puts her hand over my knee for comfort, but I push it away and lean my head against the window. “Well at least we’ll be away from here.”

It was April fifth of the previous year when my grandmother passed away. She was everything I could ever want in a grandmother: caring, witty, says what’s on her mind, patient, lovable, religious, intelligent, kind, and the list goes on. One evening while we were visiting she kept complaining of chest pains, and she knew they weren’t normal. My father drove her to the hospital that night and they sent my grandma back saying she had a mild heart attack building up, but surely it wasn’t a concern for right now. The next day she decided to take a nap early, and the last thing I knew, they found her silently sleeping, forever.
We think she knew it was her time to go because when we arrived at two p.m. as soon as they found her, she had sorted all of her belongings to give away to each family member along with a note for each, followed by her will on the dining room table. Except…she barely left a note for grandpa. He wouldn’t understand anyway. They were the same age, only three months difference, and at 76 he stood weak, unlike her. All he did was walk around the house or sit in front of the television all day, his mind wandering in thin air. We felt sorry for him because he was all alone now. Of course, he was always alone, around the house, and in his mind. Grandma knew exactly how he felt and she knew what he wanted and when. It was as if they shared a brain.
At age 63 he stopped talking altogether. We never knew why, but maybe he didn’t quite know what to say. At least grandma was there to support him. I remembered one time in particular when grandpa just sat in the kitchen, watching grandma as if he was trying to get her attention. Finally I think she sensed it because she turned around, nodded, and poured a glass of water and set it in front of him. After refusing to talk for so long, he tried to tell her “thank you”, but it never came out.
Now what was he going to do? Sit in his house alone, just wandering around like normal, only this time not understanding why no one was around or so many? Take him to a nursing home and have the caretakers’ misunderstand his commands or just ignore him completely? No…they couldn’t do that to him, even if they were allowed to.
We spent that day gathering all our new belongings and when we were finished we had to sit down and finally explain the tragedy to him. At first, it looked like he didn’t even realize anyone was talking to him. When my father had finished explaining to him what had happened, grandpa looked up and around at all of us, back to my father, to me, and eventually back to the man that confessed the news. We gave sympathic looks because we never thought he’d understand, but just as they started to look away, I pulled my dad’s sleeve because I saw what looked like watering eyes. The eyes that always told they understood, but didn’t want to be true. Of course no one wanted it to be true, she is always missed and thought about even to this day. We were all glad he finally understood what we were talking about, but we also understood why it was hard especially when you just lost the one you love the most.
In the end, we decided to let him live with my Aunt Carol. They were closer than any other family members, besides grandma. She knew how to communicate with him so he’d listen, and how she could understand for both of them. At least he had accepted the invitation instead of making a big deal over it, but grandpa wasn’t the type of man to throw a fit. He rarely spoke, remember? I thought grandpa had always liked the Flower Shop, so it would be useful to keep him with Carol. Who knows, maybe even one day he’d start talking again. It was highly doubtful, but they will never give up hope.
He probably doesn’t have much time left, anyway, or maybe he has all the time in the world, I thought.

I slip back into reality as we’re heading down Cranberry Road and veering onto 4th Street West, the street right next to Cemetery Hill. Claire pulls into the cemetery slowly, but impatiently. I can tell she wants to get this over with. She never has liked cemeteries, even if she was willing to visit. She probably thinks this trip is a waste of time, I think as I peel my forehead off the side window. I get ready to push the door wide open when Claire speaks: “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, it’s just―”
“No need to apologize, I understand how you feel. We’ve known each other for what― twelve years?” I giggle.
“Yeah, something like that,” Claire answers unsurely.
“Listen, I’ll just be really quick and we can go do something else, okay?”
“Oh, yeah, that’s fine. Do you want me to, um, walk with you by the grave or something?” I can tell Claire’s uneasy about this, still.
“Nah, it’s okay. You can stay here, I won’t be long,” I walk out of the car and into the melancholy atmosphere surrounding the graves. As I near the large tombstone that I know is my grandmother’s, my throat turns sore and dry, but tears do not well up this time. My time to weep for her was sacrificed a long time ago, and I am through crying for that time lost, the only time I had left. I cannot bare the loneliness around it; even the small decorations beside it are not as pleasant and joyful anymore.
Chills overwhelm me and I sigh vociferously. When I reach the tombstone, I study it intently. It’s a fairly good size for a tombstone; at least it doesn’t take up so much room that they have to barely cram enough space for another one right beside it. Within a year, the cemetery had grown larger, not just physically, but in population. There weren’t that many people being buried the year before, but suddenly it’s becoming a popular cemetery. In time there will barely be enough room for more.

I run my fingertips along the rough, rocky edges as I walk around the mound of stone. It’s been a while since I’ve actually looked at the headstone. When my eyes spot the variegated ivy marked across it, I remember what my father pointed out: “It stands for memory, undying friendship, and faithfulness.” Grandma had all three. She could remember everything from her childhood until the day she passed on; she always had a story to tell. There was never a moment that she would turn her back and deceive you because her faithfulness was within herself and the Lord. No matter what, you could always count on her for friendship because she would never run away from someone in need.
One downside of grandma was that she would tell you one certain secret, and this made everyone think she was foolish and loony. After that she would always turn to me with a mournful expression on her face and ask, “You believe me, don’t you, Audrey?” I would always answer her by saying, “Of course I do, grandma.” But in truth I really didn’t know what to believe, I was a child and we all think something “magical” can happen. As we grow older we change our perspective, some people believe even more, others just lose interest and think whoever believes is a moron. It was only until the day she passed away that I fully understood and trusted what my grandma’s secret was, in that note. Now I truly believe I am blessed with my grandmother’s power. The note read:

Sweet Audrey,
I know this may seem short and unattainable, but you have my gift. You can see what others may not. The power of premonitions lies in your hands. Things may happen that you cannot explain, but people will need your help. It’s up to you to save them, and if you do not accept or try to help, be warned right now that there will be consequences. I trust you, and I’m always here in your heart. Good luck, and by the way, Louie ate the last of my pie. See you in years to come.

Love,
Grandma Penelope Germania Gregory Wellford

I fold up the long dissolved note and put it back in my pocket. When I first read that note I thought it was a lot to take in, and I didn’t know what she meant by “See you in years to come”, and I also wanted the last of that pie. Darn you, Louie, I thought. I stand up to stretch my legs and head back to the car. From that day on I always took her words seriously, and I knew they were true right after I read them.

Piczo