I ran. Past the 300 meter mark, I turned and looked behind me at my opponent. A boy with brown hair that flew in his face while he ran; he wore a white T-shirt with the name Gateway High school in big black letters. His shorts bunched up around his thighs the more he ran. He didn’t run very fast. Or, if he did, I was faster. I hadn’t trained myself for this track meet; still, I was one of the fastest on my team. The boy stumbled, out of breath, about 100 or so meters behind me. I hit the 350 meter mark, 450 meters to go.  I didn’t hear very much cheering from the bleachers; then again, I couldn’t even hear my own breathing with my heart pounding so loudly. My family was here in the bleachers somewhere, behind them would be Alexavier. My hair was drenched from sweat, my arms pumped, and my head was over-heating, but my legs were fine.  I only had to race this once, and then I could save my energy for the next meet against Gateway High next week. 450 mark. I wasn’t tired, actually. I felt racing against Gateway high was fun because nothing was better than competition.

I passed the finish line in front of the bleachers. As soon as I passed it I stopped running and headed straight for the bleachers without making it clear that I was looking for my family.  They waved me over and I stepped over one bench to get to the second bench which they were sitting on.

“Good job, sis,” my brother said as I sat next to him, “You looked good out there.” 

“Thanks,” I said. I didn’t want him to say anything else his voice was too loud in my ear. Someone fumbled sitting down next to me. It was Alexavier. I was kind of hoping to find him first, but I hadn’t.

“Yo,” he said as he handed me a new plastic water bottle.

I said, “thank you,” laughing and taking the bottle as if it were a joke. Alexavier is my closest friend. He is three months younger than me and although he is a bit weird, he’s the nicest guy I’ve ever known.

I looked back down at the track. My friend April was lined up next. Her track uniform looked just like mine: Blue with a gold V-neck and in gold capital letters VALLEY REGIONAL. April’s hair hung at her side like it always had. I’ve known April since the first grade and not once can I remember a hair tie ever being in her hair. Her hair, dark brown and curly, was as curly as a ribbon you ran scissors through to give it a cute elegance on a present.

“Ready… Go!” The coach blew his whistle and off ran April and her blonde haired foe. He was faster than her by just three inches.  I knew how bad April would feel if she lost. She’s a great girl, but she cries when she loses something. I took another gulp of water. My brother was probably ready to go, Alexavier was probably watching me, but I kept my eyes on April’s legs. I studied the way her arms pumped, so carelessly. I caught a glimpse of her expression when her hair was removed from her face by the wind. She was focused; so focused it looked like she was angry; like her head was going to explode. I had to run 800 meters; she only had to run 400.

“You can do it, ‘Pril,” I whispered, hoping the words could somehow travel to her ears. Alexavier nudged my elbow. I looked at him and he leaned in close. I leaned back a bit so I could still breathe.

“How many of those guys do you bet have girlfriends?” he asked under his breath. He was talking about the boys on the other team.

I looked across the field. I couldn’t see the other team very well. They were huddled all the way on the other side of the field; I couldn’t see that far. “Can’t imagine many, but it’s hard to say,” I said, remembering what the boy I raced looked like.

The boy fumbled and his brown hair looked sweaty, he wasn’t the skinniest guy either. I felt Alexavier smile at my response. I could say anything, any stupid thing, and Alexavier would smile. April finished her race. She lost. The opposing boy beat her by four steps. She walked over to her water bottle looking like she was going to throw up. I forgot about Alex for a minute and fumbled down the bleachers.

“’Pril, you alright?” she nodded her head as she tipped her head back to gulp down some water. “You sure?” I crossed my arms, I wasn’t convinced.

“Yeah. It’s just been an off week for me.” She sighed and scratched her head. I wanted to ask why, but her reasons for getting upset are always the same. I was thinking of what to say to her next when a girl jumped on her shoulder and startled me.

            “April! You did great!” Her friend Sayre hoped onto April’s shoulders making April choke. Her other friend Winslow was quiet behind her. April laughed, said thanks, and then they started talking about some anime I had no clue about. Honestly, that’s all they ever seem to talk about. I felt a hard pull on my pony tail tugging my head back.

Alexavier came out from behind me. “Bridge, can I give you a ride home?”

I looked at my family in the bleachers, my brother was standing cross-armed ready to move while my mother was in his way slowly picking up her large purse and gently placing it around her shoulder. I wouldn’t need to ask to do anything with Alex.  Both our families’ knew we’re inseparable friends. “I think we’re going to McDonalds now. I’ll save you a fry.” I winked at him and he turned around and walked toward the parking lot.

“Are you ready to go?” my mom asked.

I rubbed my palms together, “I’ve been ready.” I had no interest in shaking hands with the unprepared track team from Gateway High.

At home my mother went straight to her laptop in the kitchen, my brother went straight to his video games in his room and I went straight to the shower then bed.

Before going upstairs my mother asked, “Do you have homework, Brigitte?” I told her I finished it in school and continued on. After my shower I draped myself over my bed in my pink bathrobe.

 Immediately I picked up my phone; one text from Alex, and three from my friend Caitlin. Everyone called her Cait; I call her Lynn, because of her middle name.  I opened up Alexavier’s text first. “Hi,” It said. I laughed because we just saw each other maybe an hour and a half ago. I typed “hi,” and went to Lynn’s message. She wrote:

Dude I have to tell you something. Okay so-

I’ve been talking to this guy and he’s really cool. But he’s got an OVERLY PROTECTIVE GIRLFRIEND. She just messaged me on Facebook screaming at me to stop talking to him. Like no. He’s really cool. I don’t even get why they’re going out.

Ten minutes later she wrote another message that said

Dude, answer me. Lol.

I typed slowly:

Sorry, I had a track meet thing to go to (I totally killed it btw). Have you asked the guy why he’s dating her? Maybe he could tell her to calm down.

I couldn’t think of anything else to say. After staring at it for a minute I slowly pressed send. I checked Alex’s messages, he hasn’t answered yet. It was dark out now. I felt exhausted. I rolled over and curled up in a ball in the middle of my bed. I closed my eyes and my phone fell from my hand.

I woke up to my phone buzzing. It was telling me I had six texts. It was two in the morning and my eyes wouldn’t focus on the screen. The words looked like blurry bubbles. Four of them were from Lynn; the other two were from Alexavier. I opened up Alex and I’s messages. I had to squint to see the bright screen.

Nice job today.

It said it was sent at 10:43 last night. His next one was sent at 11:56.

Hello?

I didn’t respond. I hate not responding to Alex’s texts, but I was so tired my fingers wouldn’t move. Lynn could wait too.

I woke up again at 6:27. Twenty-seven minutes more than I should have slept. I shot up from bed and found I was still in my robe. I threw on a black bra, a pink tank top, and skinny jeans. I brushed my mid-length, dead hair. It was blonde half way down and the top was a light brown color. I threw on a jacket and left for school forgetting my bag. It wasn’t until I got to school that I remembered I had left it in my room. Most of my homework was in my locker, so I thought I was okay. I closed my locker with my algebra textbook. “Hey,” Alexavier hopped up next to me.

“Hi, sorry, I fell asleep,” I said, referring to the night before.

“I figured so,” he said with a know-it-all tone. We walked to class together. First class was algebra; Alex was good at it. The teacher would always give us a packet without explaining what to do. Then Alex, next to me, would explain it; but the way he explained it was a bit confusing, so I just copied any answers that he didn’t cover with his arm.

 “So, what’s up?” I asked him on our way to class.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Alex!” a cheery voice called out from behind us. “Want to come to my house and work on that civics project?” The girl’s name was Jenny Marie Taylor. I eyed Alexavier at this new information. Jenny Taylor’s legs crossed themselves under her short purple skirt. She bit her lower lip smudging her lip gloss, and her arms nervously clutched her binder to her stomach. I doubt she was nervous though. Jenny Taylor had had more boyfriends than days of the week. And apparently Alex was her next victim. Alex and Jenny Taylor went to all the same schools, but she hadn’t started liking him until freshman year.

Alex kept his eyes on her, “Sorry,” he said, his voice actually sounded sympathetic; something that was uncommon for him. Jenny Taylor’s eyes lowered to his feet, her lips went from her hopeful, flirty smile to an ugly pitiful frown as I watched her reaction. Then she looked at me, suddenly her eyes went hateful. Her body sagged and she eyed me like a preying snake. I knew she hated me. She’s hated me since the beginning of high school. Reason for her resentment: I’m close to Alex. Maybe she wouldn’t hate me so much if Alex and I weren’t such good friends. I don’t stop Alex from dating, he just chooses not to. “I have to do something tonight,” he told her. She scrunched up her face and walked away clicking her heels. Alexavier looked down at me smiling faintly. He knew my feelings for her were equal to hers towards me. The bell finally rang but it seemed like it was too early for math.

Alexavier was drawing an equation on my worksheet. “Where do you have to go?” I asked out of curiosity.

“Huh?” he bit his tongue as he was erasing. He was so close I could smell him.

“You said you had something to do after school.” I saw my warm breath blow his hair just above his ear.

“I have to pick my sisters up from school today,” his voice was very low.

“They’re coming over this weekend?” His parents were divorced, just like mine were. He lives with his mom, his sisters live in the next town over with their dad; Alex is the only child in their family who doesn’t switch houses. “Couldn’t Jenny Taylor come to your house then?” I was engaged in the conversation, not at all on equations. Alex leaned back to his desk and looked forward.

“You’re the only friend of mine who’s been in my house,” he seemed to mutter. I asked why but then I was startled by the teacher raising his voice to a kid on the other side of the room who was playing with his cell phone. That reminded me to check mine, but it was too risky at the moment.

During lunch Lynn had texted me to go to Monkey’s after school. Monkey’s smoothie bar was just down the road from my school. I hadn’t seen Lynn since last summer; she didn’t go to my school anymore. She got expelled last year for reasons I don’t even remember. We’ve been busy with our sports; track and basketball. Which reminded me, I should be training for my meet against Gateway High again next Friday; exactly a week away. I was still a bit tired from the night before. 

“Who are you textaanng?” April said with a very girly voice. It was interesting to hear her spread out the ‘ing’ to sound more like ‘ang’.

“Lynn,” I said.

“Who?” her face scrunched up. Right, I’m the only one who calls her Lynn.

“Cait… Caitlin,” I said, but her face still looked confused. “Caitlin Mollynauex.”

Then her face lit up like she finally remembered. She said, “Cool,” like she didn’t actually care that her friend Sayre was calling her name and bumping her elbow. Winslow sat next to them eavesdropping. April was a good friend, a nice supportive girl, but I didn’t exist when Sayre was around, and wherever Sayre was, so was Winslow.

When the last bell of the day rang students trampled each other to get out. My science teacher had told me she wanted to me stay for fifteen minutes after school to do some make up work from when I was sick on Monday. It was Friday, and I couldn’t wait to see Lynn at Monkey’s, but I had to stay here and make up the one worksheet she actually graded this month and I wasn’t here for.  I sat at my desk trying to focus on the questions in front of me. I couldn’t. Usually Alexavier walks home with me every day. He lives on the same street as me, seven houses away. I imagined him waiting for me at my locker until all the students had left the school. And I was stuck here. The only sounds were the teacher at her desk grading God knows what and a bird outside the windowsill chirping a sweet little song. I watched the bird chirp. It was as if it was using a code for Come out Brigitte, come out in the sunshine. As if I could understand its bird language, I shook my head at it and it flew away.

After a long twenty minutes I handed in my work and saw I had four new messages on my phone.

Alex: Where are you?

Alex: Well, I gotta go get my sisters. Bye.

I felt bad for keeping him waiting and I texted back telling him I had to stay after. The next two were from Lynn;
Lynn: I’m here where r u?

Lynn: Dude I’m waiting, where r u?

I reached Monkey’s and Lynn was sitting on a bench just outside of the entrance. I was going to wait until I was closer to her to start explaining. But her eyes found me and she yelled over an old couple going in, “Brigitte! Oh my God I’ve been waiting here forever!” her smile told me she wasn’t mad.

“How long were you waiting?” I asked in a low tone to try and soften hers.

“Ten minutes,” she laughed. We walked in and the smell was a cross between fruit and pastries. Monkey’s Smoothie bar sold fruit smoothies, but they also sold muffins that weren’t so good. She ordered a strawberry and I asked for a banana smoothie. We sat down at a café table; behind it was a long mirror on the wall that met the front window. She took a sip of her smoothie; neither of us knew what to say. Ever since she’d been expelled all we really talk about is her troubles and the standard ‘what’s up? How’s school?’ chitchat.  We used to be closer, I’ve known Caitlin since kindergarten, yet she knows almost nothing about me, now.

“How’s-” I started to ask her how school was when she interrupted.

“Dude,” she pointed to someone across the room. “Look. That kid.” She pointed to a boy with dark almost violet hair that was wavy all the way down to his cheeks. He put a day old muffin back on the “Day old pastries” shelf, and then he seemed to smile and laugh at something. There was a group of boys around him. Maybe they were his friends and they were joking about the day old muffins.

“Do you know him?” I looked back at Lynn.

“No,” she said and took another sip, “but, dude, look at him.” By the look on her face I could tell she wanted him. Like she was a leopard and he was an antelope, like she was stalking him from the woods just waiting for the right time to pounce. I looked back at him to see him through her eyes. His violet hair was more of a dark burgundy; he had small shoulders and small arms. He wore baggy jeans and a blue shirt that clearly showed his flat stomach. He was good looking, really, but I never spend much time on appearances. The boy pushed his hair from his right eye and turned my way.

 I turned my head to look at the menu hanging over the counter. For a second, I looked back at him, his face was still turned but he was looking down at his friend doing something to a muffin on the floor. I saw his face and even from afar I could make out defined features. His nose was straight and slightly pointed, but it was small. His eyebrows had the perfect arch that all girls wanted. The skin on his forehead was tight and radiant so he looked even younger than he was. His cheek bones were high and his lips were full and pink with red spots like he bites them till they bleed. He felt familiar somehow; like an old friend I hadn’t seen since elementary school. But I didn’t think I had ever seen this boy before. He didn’t look familiar anyway, he felt familiar. It felt like it had been forever since I looked back at Lynn, so I did, only to see her with her teeth resting on the tip of her straw and her phone in her hand. I realized that my hands were numb from clutching my cold drink. 

2: Two

I ran around and around the track jumping over branches that fell from the slimy woods. It had rained during the night so everything was dull in color. The smell of wet tar stung my nose and adding to that, the smell of the wet oak trees was making my allergies act up.  Our school was quite big; the border lining the whole school and its baseball and football/track fields was a forest of dead trees. I was training, alone, for my meet on Friday. I had six more days, and counting. My hair was damp in its messy pony tail. My white sneakers almost slid on a newly fallen leaf. The school next to me was hauntingly empty. No one came to practice any sport on a Sunday morning. I caught a glimpse of the parking lot through the mist as a small car was pulling in; the only car there would be this day. I kept watching it and waiting for someone to come out. I had to turn my head to run the other way. I felt like I would miss out if someone exited that car and I didn’t get to see them.

I almost turned to face the parking lot again when I was pulled backwards. I felt a hard grip on my shoulder, long fingers digging into my shirt and I was yanked backwards. I yelped and turned around like I was going to hit someone with my arm lifted and my hand in a fist. Through the dull mist I saw high cheek bones and gold eyes. This figure towering over me was the boy Lynn and I saw with his friends in front of the "Day old pastries" shelf.

I was scared because he looked different up close. He looked more dominant and according to his hand on my shoulder, he was certainly stronger than he looked. His hair was a weird dark burgundy that fell over one eye glaring down at me. He was close and I was scared.

            I felt a drop of rain on my nose, then another on my shoulder. He kept looking at me. I couldn't help but wonder, but I could help not speaking. He seemed to study me. He lifted a lock of my bangs that was stuck to my face and studied my forehead. Then he looked down and seemed to study the stature of my nose. He touched the edge of my lips. That was enough. I swatted his hand away and he looked up to my eyes. He must have seen something in them because he stepped back a whole inch. I kept looking into his eyes trying to send signals to him to back off, trying to be more superior than he was. We never spoke, but he seemed to collect a lot of information off of me in that short time. What kind of information? Finally, he opened his mouth but nothing came out.

“Who are you?” I didn’t think, but I managed to say. I studied him just as much as he did me. I paid attention to every detail on his face.  His gold eyes, deep with… something. He put his hand on my shoulder and looked at me with what I thought was sympathy. I froze at his touch. He was so close to me that I could smell a musty old smell that stung my nose a bit. A bit familiar, still. I kept feeling like we had known each other for years, but like I had recently lost my memory. I didn’t know him, did I?

“Who are you?” he asked repeating my question.

I was shocked and confused, this was just too weird. “I’m Brigitte. Who are you?”

“I’m…” And then he stopped. His voice was quiet and kind of inviting.  I waited for him to say it, but he didn’t. He stood there and looked at his hand on my shoulder and then took it off as if realizing he wasn’t supposed to do that. He wasn’t going to say anything.

I got impatient and turned around to walk across the track in the soggy fog that now hung over everything like a fire that spread, and this was the smoke. My shirt was so damp it stuck to my body. I tread the mush before looking back to where the boy was.  He wasn’t standing there anymore. I tried to look for him through the dense fog but I couldn’t see a human silhouette anywhere. I backed towards the parking lot not sure if I could see a car there or not. It bugged me, so I walked towards it. Strangely, I felt eyes on me. I felt like someone was watching me squint at the moisture in the air, and my shoes sinking into the mud. When I finally reached the gravel lot, I did see the one car, but it looked old and pointless. I felt no desire to look at it any differently than I would another car. Then I became self-conscious, my hair felt sticky, so I went home disregarding everything that had just happened. I told myself five times: It was strange, but it didn’t mean anything.

I hopped up onto my front porch and I heard a voice behind me, “hey,” and I turned around to see Alex’s face light up as he stepped towards me. He came at me with his arms open like a big teddy bear and I was engulfed in his arms like a Venus fly trap.

“Hi,” I greeted him. I couldn’t help but smile at his, “What’s up?” with his hair falling over one eye making me remember the boy I had just seen. I took a few seconds to remember before answering.

“Nothing, just went for a run that’s all.” I didn’t want to tell Alex about the experience; normally I tell Alexavier everything, but nothing if I couldn’t make sense of it myself.

“Cool,” he said, but I could feel that he wanted to say more. He knew about my daily runs, he knew they were more crucial on weekends. Someone once told me that I should be on the track team since I run so much. So I joined, and I like it.

I listened to the rain on the leaves of gardens and trees. “I hate days like these, it’s spring, and it shouldn’t rain like this.” I wrapped my left hand over my right arm.

“Yeah, it shouldn’t be so cold either,” he commented closing his jacket over his chest.

“Come inside,” I offered trying to be as hospitable to him as usual. I started to go in but he didn’t move.

“I thought I could at least give you my jacket,” he mumbled. I laughed awkwardly.

He sat on my bed as I handed him a plate of pepperoni pizza sandwiches. Alex and I both came up with the idea in eighth grade when it was raining and we had a group project to work on for Social Studies. I would say the pepperoni pizza sandwiches helped immensely toward building the great friendship we have today. “Eat,” I said sitting down next to him.

“I’m not hungry,” he said modestly. I looked at him. Eating in my house wasn’t an option. I untied my sneakers and out of the corner of my eye saw him sneak a bite of the sandwich.

I closed my bedroom door. After four years of knowing Alex, my family finally trusts us alone. It’s different for his family. I don’t see what they have to be worried about. I’ve told a million people a million times: We’re just friends. “I beat that game last night,” he says with a mouth full of bread, cheese and a bit of meat.

“What game?” I asked more sleepily than I had anticipated.

“Portal,” he said as if I should know. Then again, I probably should have, because he talked about his friend loaning it to him and how easy it was at first. Yesterday he was texting me complaining about how hard it was towards the end.

”Nice, how do you feel?” I smiled, remembering him freaking out about it.

“Accomplished,” he had a smug look on his face. Alexavier was good at puzzles, though not when he was tired.

 Keeping the conversation going I said “Good. So what do you plan on playing next?”

“The second one,” he said. I remembered my older brother telling me about them. I wasn’t much of a gamer, but I did have some gaming in my background.

 “I heard the second one’s just like the first.” I said.

“I heard there’s a few more puzzles in it,” he smirked. I knocked my fist on his forehead like a door.

“Stretching out your noggin” I smiled, and he laughed swiping my hand away. I lay down on my back. My bare feet kicked the side of his thigh. He gave me a strange look. It’s one of those looks a man gives a woman in those mushy romance movies just before he kisses her that always made me cringe.

“Do you want to do something?” he asked with a calm voice.

“Don’t know, you?” I curled up on my side looking at my night stand. He didn’t respond. We just sat there for a long minute lost in our own thoughts. I felt Alex lay down next to me so I turned over to look at him. His hair splattered across my pillow and I could smell his sweet apple shampoo that he used. His long eyelashes faced upward and I saw his eyes tracing the neon stars I have on my ceiling; he seemed lost in the stars, lost in forever, away from me. I shifted onto my stomach, I had been about to say something but I had forgotten as I lay looking at him. No, I was going to tell him about the boy with the burgundy hair I had met that morning. How Lynn pointed him out laughing with his friends at Monkey’s smoothie bar. How then I thought he looked at me, and there was a weird connection. The first discombobulating sentence he had said to me, ‘Who are you?’

I didn’t tell Alexavier. He was protective of me; last time I had a boyfriend Alex questioned him to make sure he was okay for me to date, just like a father would. It was sweet and annoying at the same time, but I think Alex was the reason we broke up. His eyes were closed, and his breathing had deepened like he was sleeping.  I sat up thinking he must not have gotten enough sleep the night before.

The phone rang. It was so loud I’m sure it woke Alex. I checked the caller ID and I didn’t recognize it but I picked up because I wanted the obnoxious ringing to stop. “Hello?”

“Hey, where are you?” I heard a voice say. It was Lynn.

“I’m at home,” I said, a bit confused as to why she wanted to know.

She laughed, “You have to get down here. So, I’m at your school with Olivia, Kayce and Thomas, and this guy shows up and starts being weird as hell. He’s like, ‘Have you seen a girl around here with a blonde ponytail?’ And I’m like, ‘umm. Who are you?’ and he’s like, ‘She was here this morning, running, thought I could race her.’ and I’m like ‘ummm, who the hell are you talking about?’ and then he just pretty much walked away and I’m like ‘um okay’ but, dude, it was so weird!”

My mind immediately went to the boy with his friends at Monkey’s, and him with his electrical touch on my shoulder this morning. “That is weird,” was all I could say. 

“He’s still like, really cute though, do you know him?” I closed my eyes remembering how he had smelled.

“No,” I said, muffled. Then the musty smell turned into apples. I opened my eyes, Alex was up. Lynn brought my attention back.

“Oh, alright, well I gotta go. I’m gonna hang more then go home and pack.”

“Pack?” I didn’t know she was going anywhere.

“I’m going to Florida to see my grandparents for like two weeks.”

“Oh, you didn’t tell me.”

“Oh,” she laughed hard. Lynn laughs a lot, but that was her ‘that’s awkward’ kind of laugh. I didn’t know what else to say; no, I had everything to say to her, but nothing to tell.

“Bye,” I said so she’d hang up.

“Bye,” she said and held out the “e” like she was straightening out a string. She hung up right after, and I turned around in my chair to see Alexavier sit down on the end of my bed and fiddle with his fingers.

“Lynn,” I said as I put the phone down. Alex raised his chin but stared at the ground like he was trying to remember who Lynn was. “Caitlin,” I cleared up and he looked at me and I noticed the bags under his eyes.

“Do you want to do something?” he asked. I got the feeling he didn’t want to stay here and do nothing any more than we already had.

“Sure,” I gave him a slight smile.

I waved at a kid riding past on a bicycle while Alex walked beside me. I felt a tug on my mint green purse and looked down to find it had gotten caught on a half dead bush. I tugged at it but it only made scratch marks on the straps and I thought it looked like I was ruining the bush. Alex grabbed the strap and the branch as I tugged. “Stop,” he said, and I stopped. He carefully untwisted my strap and the bag fell against my leg. He carefully and slowly let the branch go so drops of the morning’s rain wouldn’t fling up at our faces like a sling shot. I smiled at him.

“Always count on you.”

He bowed, “I shall save every one of your purses from destruction.” 

3: Three

The next morning at school a decided to go see April since I hadn’t seen her since that last track meet on Thursday. “Hey,” I gave her a smile as I walked up. Sayre and Winslow were already sitting next to her on the hallway floor.

“Hey,” her voice was quiet as she scratched her head.

“What’s up?” I sat down next to her. She leaned her head back against the brick wall of the science wing.

“I’m so tired, Brigitte,” she closed her eyes.

“Go to bed early,” I told her with more of a commanding voice.

“I can’t,” she whined, “I’ve got a problem, Bridge.” April spent her nights watching anime until three AM. I’ve seen a few, but I wasn’t into it like April and her trio.

“April, look!” Sayre punched April’s arm and shoved her pink cell phone in her tan face. I thought about seeing Alexavier who was probably in the library on the computer; that’s where he turned when I said I was going to go see April. April drew my attention back to her.

“Do we have track practice tonight?” that’s when I remembered that I did.

“Yes,” I said. She whined. I understood. I would rather just go home after school instead of staying here an extra two hours on a Monday. I looked at my phone wishing school would start sooner. 7:25. Ten minutes.

I sat there in silence waiting for the bell to ring. April was my best friend, but I got little attention from her when her other friends were around. Sad to think about really, it was just her, Alex, and Lynn. Alex pays a lot of attention to me so I don’t complain. I wish I paid as much attention to him as he does to me; but instead I get lost in myself, lost in thought, lost in what I want to do and where I want to go. The bell rang, finally and I hurried to first period.

In second period, Global Studies, while everyone was finishing up their work, I sat back at my desk having completed the assignment. I looked out the window, the sky looked a bit grey, odd weather for spring, it was still a bit colder than it should have been. Just for a few seconds, I thought I saw the boy from Monkey’s, and from the track, floating outside the classroom window. Was he looking at me? I couldn’t quite tell. His hands were cupped over his face and squished against the glass. In an instant he was there, and another instant he wasn’t. It was strange, because the Social Studies wing was on the second floor.

The rest of the day flashes of the boy ran through my head and I tried to ignore it. He’s nothing. He’s no one. If he was, he’d be a fragment of someone else, someone I wouldn’t care about. I had forgotten his smell, but I remembered it was strange. I had forgotten the color of his eyes, but I knew they were burning with old and new.

I had some free time in class because I had just finished a quiz so I got started on the homework. But then I got a rhyme in my head. One I made up. I haven’t exactly written anything in a long time, especially not poems. I couldn’t find any blank paper so I grabbed an old worksheet from my binder and was happy to find a blank white backside. I wrote:

Eyes of new and old,

As deep as the sea,

Golden eyes as cold,

As eyes that watch over me.

I stopped and read it over in my head about five times. I had written it so fast that I had felt a rush of energy go through me. I still felt it, that old rush of putting feelings on paper. I sat there and thought for a minute.

Meet me there.

Run across the track.

I never watch you leave,

Please, come back.

I looked out the window to see the sun shining brightly, and I remembered him in the window of my Global studies class on the second floor. How could he have been there?  He couldn’t have been an angel, I didn’t see them anymore. I did, when I was little, I was sure of it, but now I try to ignore the strange things. I felt like an alien, so I stopped talking to the angels and started being ‘normal’, but that only helped a little, I still felt like I was from another time or planet.

After school I went into the locker room to change for track. Girls were changing bras and shorts and putting on deodorant and perfume that made me sneeze. I got to my locker and used the combination; once it opened I quickly grabbed my track uniform and hid in a corner where I thought none of the girls could see me. They were all laughing; I didn’t see April. I slid off my T-shirt and slipped into my blue and gold VALLEY REGIONAL tank top. I almost tripped getting out of my jeans; I didn’t take my shoes off while changing like everyone else did. I pulled the hem of the uniform top over the waistband of my shorts. There were about seventeen girls on my track team. By the time I was finished there were about eleven left in the locker room. I put my regular clothes back into my locker. When I closed it April came up to me in her uniform. She sagged against the locker next to mine.

“Ready for hell?” she asked with a disappointed voice.  

I chuckled, “Yes.” I said. I didn’t necessarily like practice after school all that much, but running on the track made it worth it. April joined the team the same time I did. I told her one day that I was going to go for it and she said she’d been thinking about it too. We joined as an activity we could do together. I didn’t think her heart was in it though. She told me that she joined because she knew she was a fast runner, and she was. But to me it was the same thing as being an artist. You can paint and have people say your paintings are good until they’re blue in the face. But if your heart’s not in it, don’t do it. We walked out to see girls stretching and our coach still wasn’t there. April and I stood right next to the shady bleachers and started stretching off of each other.

“So, how are you?” she asked pulling one arm to her left by the other.

“I’m good, how are you?”

“Tired,” she said. I smiled, “You’re always tired.”

“I’m always cold, too.” She rubbed her hands together as if she was trying to make a fire. e walked oiu

Suddenly, we heard the buzz of coach’s whistle, it startled me.

He held up a clipboard and called “Katarina, Ivy, you’re up. Run around the track twice and come back.” The girls got into the blocks at the starting line, ready to race. Coach’s eyes were not visible under his UCONN as he blew his whistle and the girls jetted off.

“I hope I don’t get paired with Heather again,” April mumbled and crossed her arms over her chest. A couple weeks ago Heather and April were assigned to run the track together, April said Heather tripped her on purpose so she’d fall behind.

“You won’t be,” I told her so she wouldn’t be worried, but I was never certain. I felt sad I couldn’t share April’s anger with her. I never got tripped on purpose, I didn’t have a dad to sit around and eat all the food, and I didn’t have teachers on me at school all the time about work. I was left alone.

“Brigitte and April,” Coach called. We looked at each other with relief and we stood on the starting line. Coach blew his whistle and off April and I ran. I didn’t see the other girls by the bleachers, I didn’t see coach, I didn’t see the tar in front of me, all I saw was April’s competitive look. And I was determined to beat her.

I ran with longer strides than normal, April must have seen me so she did the same. We raced each other beyond the limit our coach wanted so he blew his whistle telling us to come back. We ran back to the team and almost ran into the bleachers. We both laughed at each other but coach’s face didn’t look as amused as ours were. Understanding his fiery eyes we sat down on the bleachers shamed, yet not shamed at all.

Another pair of girls stood at the starting line. April and I sat on the bleachers as our unspoken punishment for going too far out. I looked at the gravel parking lot noting that the car I had seen on Sunday morning wasn’t there today.

“You okay?” April asked, and she scrunched up her face looking at mine.

I looked at her. “Fine, why?” I unconsciously fiddled with the small collar of my V-neck uniform.

“Oh, nothing. You just look-”

I cut her off, “Tired,” and she gave me a look of understanding.

It was 4:00 p.m. and practice was almost over. I couldn’t wait to go home and fall asleep. Coach blew his whistle “Alright see you all Thursday!” I’m sure we were all tired. Just two more meets we had to suffer through.

“Do you need a ride?” April asked.

“No,” I said, although I wasn’t sure if I had a ride myself, if I didn’t I’d walk home. I was so tired I didn’t care.

4: Four

I sat on the front porch with Alex. “Did you get that second Portal game yet?” I asked remembering our conversation a couple days ago.

“No.” He looked down at a speck of dirt on the step just below him.

“You alright?” I looked at him. His hair was a mess and his eyes drooped like he hadn’t been sleeping well.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He looked up to the street. I felt like there was something important he wasn’t telling me, or maybe it was just guilt that I was hiding something important from him.

“Are you sure?”

 “You’re not gonna like it,” he said.

“What?”

He looked at me with dark eyes. “You called last night and I ignored it.” 

“I noticed.” I looked down remembering how I felt the night before and I was almost ready to tell him about the boy. I had called his cell phone four times, but he never picked up. I let it ring and ring before I hung up and tried again. The first time Alex had ever purposely ignored my calls. Of course we text mostly, but even when I texted him last night he didn’t answer.

“I was with Roderick and the guys,” he said, “and another guy showed up. I assumed Roderick knew him. He was weird looking; he had these creepy eyes and long hair. Anyway… uh…” he seemed to stumble. The Alexavier that I know only does that when he’s afraid. I listened intently. “There were… drinks,” he looked up and said drinks very slowly. I looked at him with sharp eyes.

“You didn’t,” I said.

“I’m sorry.” He looked down and I swear I saw a tears forming in his eyes.

I looked away from him beginning to feel angry and betrayed. I looked out across the street. I tried to keep my anger calm. I clenched my teeth together. “You promised you wouldn’t drink,” I said feeling a fire in me.

“I know, I’m so-”

 “You promised you wouldn’t, not ever!” A tear fell down my cheek. I knew Alex was sad and probably sorry, but he still looked collected, which made me angrier.

“I’m sorry! I don’t know why I did.”

I had nothing else to say to him. There were things I could have said, but those things weren’t relevant. We were quiet until a breeze brushed my hair towards his, “If it helps, the weird guy asked about you,” he whispered.

“What guy?” I sighed.

“I told you he had creepy eyes and long hair. I thought my friend knew him so I didn’t question him being there. I was half dr… uh… yeah, when he came up to me and started asking about you I figured he went to your school or something. He smiled at me but I still didn’t like him.”

My mind raced to every guy I had ever seen or met in my entire life. “What was his name?” I sorted through the files in my brain.

 “Don’t know,” he said.

“How am I supposed to remember if you don’t know his name?”

He shrugged, “I never questioned it.”

“You were drunk.” I sat there imagining Alexavier drunk. We had promised each other that we would never resort to smoking or drinking. We agreed it ruined healthy lives and made you die faster. He looked ashamed, but I ignored it. Looking at him with his head hanging low and ready to cry the anger seemed to drain out of me. I took a breath to let out what was left of my steam. “What did he look like?” I asked closing my eyes.

“His hair was a wired amber color, it was probably burgundy or something but it looked amber in the dark. He was much skinnier than me, and he looked like he chewed on his lips.”

I remembered the boy from Monkey’s. It had to be him. This boy seemed to be stalking me, he may look dangerous, but he didn’t feel that way. His first words rang in my head. Who are you strange boy? I replayed in my head all the times I had seen him. At Monkey’s; Lynn pointed him out obviously attracted to him. At the track on Sunday morning; the first time we met, his musty smell was as old as a shoebox found in the eighteen hundreds. The time I thought I saw him floating in the window on my second floor Global Studies class.

“I’ve seen him,” I said out loud. Alex looked at me and straightened his legs as I brought my knees up to my chest. “I’ve seen him a couple times, but I don’t know his name. He is weird, but…” I wasn’t sure how much to say. I felt like I wasn’t saying it to Alexavier, I was saying it more for myself.

“But…?” Alex wanted me to continue. I stopped and thought. If I said what I felt with him, I’d sound like I needed to be in a mental hospital. When I was fifteen I had developed an anxiety disorder. It was so bad I couldn’t go anywhere, but I couldn’t stay home either. Doctors say it was a disorder, but it may as well have been an illness. When I was little I used to be afraid of the moon. Afraid it was going to come get me if I didn’t fall asleep. I was scared of a lot of things when I was younger. This was the year I was only afraid of normal things. I’m not afraid of forks anymore, I’m afraid of losing the people closest to me, like everyone else.

            I stayed quiet. Alex took that as a hint to drop it. I rested my head on my knees. “Are you mad at me?” he asked.

“No,” I said, thinking back to when he told me he got drunk the night before, “I’m not mad, just disappointed.” I stood up and walked off the steps. I kept my eyes on the yard across the street. It was either the house or Alex and I couldn’t look at Alex.

“Well, I’m gonna go.”  He raised his hand like he was going to rest it on my shoulder for a second, but then he decided not to. I watched him leave taking my anger and my sorrow with him, all he had left me with was confusion.  I wasn’t sure if that was a fight with Alex or not.

The next few days Alex and I talked but not like we used to. I felt like we were drifting apart, yet we were still glued together. It was Friday there was a track meet at four. Ever since Alex and I had our talk about him drinking and the strange boy, I had been training daily. This last meet against Gateway High School was an important one. It was the meet right before the district meet. This would set the stage to see whom was likely to win the state championship. The coach blew his whistle twice. “Welcome to the district meet where we see who gets to go on to state.”

April scratched her head. “Are you ready for this?” she asked.

“I think so, are you?” I asked with determination in my voice.

“I guess so.” She sounded unhappy or maybe tired. I looked at her as she looked at the ground. She looked like she was looking for something under the small rocks.

“You alright?” I took a deep breath.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” she looked up and smiled.

The first group of runners finished and I saw something out of the corner of my eye. The figure looked tall and daunting. I tried to ignore it, because how many times have I seen something out of the corner of my eye and nothing’s there? I saw it move. I saw the dark figure shift from right to left. I had to look before I felt suffocated. I turned my head quickly towards the entity, nothing. It's always nothing. It felt like someone was watching me, with kind eyes that burned with intense curiosity, but then it left, and I felt cold and alone remembering Alex wasn’t here, and neither was the entity.

Finally, it was our turn to run. April and I lined up with a blonde haired boy and a boy with black hair. Coach Regan blew his whistle and April and I started running a second later than the boys did. I caught up fast, though the black haired boy was faster. I hadn’t lost a race in a while; I would be dumbstruck if I did today. April ran side by side with the blonde haired boy, I think I saw him almost nudge her. I kept my eye mostly on the black haired boy who was just a step ahead. I tried to speed up my legs but they were already on full stamina. I looked at the goal. My eyes deadlocked, I had no more strength but somehow I managed to gain a burst of energy and fly past him. I was almost to the finish line, when the blonde haired boy came up behind us and flew past. He crossed the finish line first and it was hard for him to stop after. I crossed the line next to the black haired boy with April extremely close behind. My heart broke, how could I have lost?

I walked back to the bleachers alone, rethinking my form, rethinking my stretches. I wanted to go home, no, I wanted to run more, I didn’t know. I looked up at my family, and looked around for one last hope that Alexavier would be there. He wasn’t. Maybe he was the reason I always tried my best, he was the reason I always won, on the track and off. I went home with mixed feelings. I thought about everything, Alexavier wasn’t there; I lost the track meet, the figure from the corner of my eye, the boy I met on Sunday when I was practicing; I still didn’t know his name.

5: Five

I actually got to school early. Usually I got there between 7:15 and 7:21. I sat down in the library because I didn't know where else to go. It was 7:05, April would probably be here in a minute, but she never went to the library. She usually hung out by her locker on the other side of the school until the bell rang. Suddenly my chair started rattling. It felt like someone had clutched it and tried to shake it out from under me. Alexavier, of course. "Heller," he said, dropping his books on the table.

"Hey," I said quieter than I had intended.

He reached across the table to hand me a small, dark red rose. "I had to risk going through my neighbor’s yard with that big dog to get this for you." I took it not sure if I should accept it. He looked down at his watch, "We’ve still got time," he said, "I want to show you something." He took my hand and led me out of the library. We walked across the school campus as quickly as possible stopping at the edge of the woods. There were leaves covering an overgrown dirt path which he quickly led me down.

 "Where are we going?" I asked as he yanked my arm.

"I told you I wanted to show you something." He gripped me tighter like I would run away if he didn’t hold on. We stopped in a clearing with dead trees towering over us, surrounding us, protecting us.

"What?" I asked with a bit of impatience. Alexavier looked above my head then he looked around. His eyes traced every surface as if he was looking for something so. I looked around too. Next thing I know my eyes were closed, he was close, and his lips were on mine. I felt his left hand around my wrist and his other hand on my bicep. For some reason his touch on my bare skin was pleasurable. He always smelled like apples and I felt intoxicated by his nearness. His lips were soft. Alex and I's first real kiss. I tried to focus on what kind of apples, because it felt weird to let myself enjoy it. McIntosh? Granny Smith? Golden Delicious? Empire? What had gotten into him? It was a classic story. You can't be 'just friends' with someone you've known since 7th grade. He let go and I opened my eyes to look at him; he looked at me biting his lower lip. “What was that?” I asked staring into his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“For what?”

“For not being there yesterday, for drinking when I had promised not to. I feel like a jerk, and I’m sorry.”  My hands fell away from him.

“So, what was the kiss for?” I asked.

“Because I love you,” he said staring at the ground. He leaned forward to rest his forehead against mine; I think he was going to kiss me again when I said something.

“You’re my best friend, of course I love you too-” He looked up at me hoping that wasn’t it. I didn’t continue. He pressed his lips to mine again and again. He removed his hands from my waist and grabbed my head to keep me close. Part of me wanted to enjoy it; it had been a long time since someone has kissed me. But… it was Alexavier… the one boy Jenny Taylor hadn’t kissed, but that she wanted. Would she hate me more if she found out about this? I pushed him back, confused. “What about Jenny Taylor?” I blurted out.

“What about her?” he asked, the distance between us widened.

“I don’t know,” I said, “Don’t you want her? Did you ever work on that project like you were going to last week?”

“Don’t mind her.” His voice was very low so I shut up. Out of nowhere I remembered Alex had said there was a boy who asked about me when he was out with his friends, Alex said his hair was amber in the dark, but the rest of the description met mine.

“Do you know anything about that boy?” I asked. He looked at me; I wasn’t sure if it was resentment for bringing it up, or if he didn’t remember. “The boy you said was with you and your friends-”

“I remember,” he mumbled.

“Have you seen or heard from him since?” I heard his feet shift in the leaves.

“No,” he said. “I haven’t.”

“Oh.” For some reason I felt disappointed.

Alex put his hands in his pockets. “So, should we head back?” he asked, a bit nervous. I couldn’t imagine what time it was. The kiss was good, I wanted more; even if it had been Alexavier.

We walked out of the woods, stepping over forgotten branches and leaves. Alex had his hand on my back; a chilling sensation, but it was nice. No one was around to watch us leave, or so we thought. I remembered about the rose Alex had given me. It was on my binder in the library; I hoped no one had stolen it. I should have kept it with me, kept it safe, but he had swept me out to the woods so quickly I had dropped it on the table and quickly forgotten it.

When we got back into the school the first bell rang. As students rushed out of the library to get to their first class, Alexavier and I pushed in to get our stuff. When we reached the table the rose was still there as dark red as you can get. Alex knew red roses were my favorite.

“Alex!” Jenny Taylor’s voice came up from the crowd.

 In a hurry, Alex turned to me and said, “See you after school, Bridge,” and before I could answer Jenny Taylor rushed into his arms.

She hugged him tightly, and almost crying she said, “I haven’t seen you in days.” She wept into his chest the same way I had done fifty times. I felt some jealousy pound through me. Just outside Alex had given me a kiss that said, “I want you to be mine”. And now, he allowed Jenny Taylor to hug him the same way he’d hugged me. I gave him a slight smile, to hide how much it bothered me and walked off, out of the library and down the hall to beat him to algebra class. I could feel his eyes on me, sad, as if to apologize for Jenny Taylor.

After school when I reached my locker I saw Alexavier there waiting for me as always. “Hey,” he said and his smile turned into a grin.

“Hi.” I faced my locker to concentrate on my combination.

“Do you have any plans?” I could hear the hopefulness in his voice.

“Nope,” I said as I dialed the last number like opening a vault. Alex scratched the back of his neck nervously.

“Do you want to go somewhere other than home?”

“Like where?” I had the feeling he was asking me out, but I wasn’t sure if this was friend Alex or if that kiss this morning meant more.

“I don’t know,” he said, he thought for a minute while I got my books in my bag. “Monkey’s?” he finally said. I remembered the last time I was at Monkey’s Smoothie bar; I was with Lynn and she pointed out this cute guy who might be stalking me. I haven’t seen him in days, anywhere, so maybe not. Lynn was in Florida visiting her grandparents by now. We hadn’t spoken since her phone call last week, when Alex and I were talking and he fell asleep on my bed.

“Sure,” I said, and we walked side by side down the hall to the front entrance. I saw from the corner of my eye Alexavier sneaking looks at me. Once we exited through the rock wall that bordered the entrance to school campus, we turned down the sidewalk. I felt a tingling sensation coming from my left hand. Then the sensation stopped and it felt like my hand was latched on to something. I looked down; my hand was latched on to something: Alex’s hand. Alex looked down at me and I looked up at him. He smirked at me then looked forward.

At Monkey’s Smoothie Bar, Alex asked me what I wanted, still holding my hand. I told him it didn’t matter, he stood thinking for a minute, and then he let go of my hand slowly and told me to find a place to sit. He walked towards the line; the sun made the whole place look dark. I looked to my right, a cafe table sat right in front of a mirror and close to the front window. That was the table Lynn and I sat at; that was my table. I propped myself up on the tall chair, my eyes went straight to the “Day old pastries” shelf. There was a man in a suit picking up a cold cinnamon bun wrapped in plastic that molded perfectly to the shape. A woman walked behind him on her way out of the ladies’ room. At table by the wall sat two people. None of the faces were anyone I knew. Who was I looking for? Then everything changed.

Suddenly the small place was packed, with faces just as they were when I went with Lynn. I looked next to me; there Lynn was on her phone, just like that afternoon. I saw the boy with the dark burgundy hair at the pastries shelf laughing with three other guys. His smile was as bright as the brightest thing on earth, as beautiful as Niagara Falls, as white as an albino tiger cub, as wild as the African Plain. His hair fell over his eyes like it always did. For some reason I felt more attracted to him than before. It was almost as if I could smell him from where I sat. The familiarity was still there.

My eye caught Alexavier in the line up to the counter. The strange boy was gone and so was Lynn. In Lynn’s place though, was a boy, different from Alexavier. His dark hair was down to his cheeks and he wore a black shirt. He spun around in his seat and I gasped. Him. How could he be here? I glanced over at Alex, he smiled and waved to me. I returned the wave and he turned back around and took a step up in the line. I looked back at the boy next to me. I almost felt like I was suffocating. He looked at me with his gold eyes; they were cold and inviting at the same time.

“Hi,” I was surprised I was able to get a word out. His mouth formed the word before repeating it. His voice was soft and innocent. He looked dangerous, but he felt kind. At least kind enough. But he felt kind on a different level. Like he was from a place of mercy and peace and he acted like he didn’t understand English.

 How did he get here? “Who are you?” I asked him.

“Who are you?” he asked back. I felt a bit annoyed that he kept repeating what I said.

“You already asked me that. Now I’m asking you. Who are you?” I eyed him carefully. He looked away from me and over at Alex, who was now two away from being upfront. He looked back at me. I could smell him, the same smell as before. His golden eyes widened. He leaned closer across the table, so close I could feel his breath. “Aiden.” I leaned closer too.

“Aiden,” I repeated.

“Yes, that’s the name you gave me.” His voice was incredibly soft. What did he mean? I felt the table vibrate, Alex was there putting down two strawberry smoothies. I looked back to where the boy, Aiden was but he was gone; nothing but an empty seat and my reflection in the mirror.

6: Six

Text from: Lynn

I hate my parents.

So we were at the beach yesterday and I was like, walking the shore, then this guy came up to me and said hey and we just started talking. He was really cool(and cute) he looked kinda like that weird kid I told u about when I was with my friends, the one who kept asking about u. But this time he didn’t, and he was just really cool. I wanted to go back to the beach today to see him but my parents keep telling me no. They want me to bake pies with my grandma.

 

This text came at 10:49 this morning. The bell to end second period was about to ring. My Global Studies teacher was talking about the homework: This five page essay on anything related to the class, it was due the beginning of next month. This paper had already gone on for a month; it was a long assignment that was due at the end of the term. I wasn’t exactly sure what I wanted to write it on. In English we’re doing pretty much the same thing.

I typed slowly back to Lynn.

To: Lynn

I doubt it was the same boy. How’s Florida? The kid’s most likely not going to be there today. Don’t wanna be a downer, but you’re there to spend time with family, there are enough guy’s here back home.

The bell rang, and almost immediately I got a text back.

To: Brigitte

Yeah I stayed here and played stupid charades with them. They promised we could go to the beach later :) Eww all the guys back home are gross, well most of them are ;)

 

To: Lynn

Lol Lynnie.

Lynn was the girl with lots of friends; she did kind of have a boyfriend here. This guy who liked her was going to take her to prom, whenever their prom was. But she was obviously always still looking for someone else. She said she liked this guy, but she didn’t know if she liked him enough to date him.

Algebra was the same as it was every morning with Alex and I talked about his gaming, and him asking me how I was feeling. After school Alex was waiting at my locker. He smiled his cheeky smile; he almost hugged me but I turned to my locker instead. Things were weird. He was still my best friend, but ever since he kissed me he acted like we were more than that.

"Want to go do something?" he asked me. I wasn't sure how to answer, I did want to go out with him, but I also wanted to go home. I leaned against my open locker.

I negotiated, "How about I take you with me to my grandparent's house next weekend instead?" I found out from my mother that morning that we were going to my grandmother's for Easter the next weekend. Alex just smiled and I closed my locker with my bag and started walking ahead until Alex caught up. Once we were off school grounds he swung his arm around my shoulder. It felt like he was claiming me as his own. His skin on mine felt very warm and comfortable; but it felt strange.

"So, how was your day?" he asked. I was too preoccupied to answer. I was thinking about our relationship. Alexavier drew me closer, "Hey, you okay?"

I looked up at him, "yeah, fine." I thought about how Jenny Taylor liked him and that killer look in her eye whenever she saw me and Alex together. "How's Jenny Taylor?" My throat tightened up when I said her name.

"As ugly a person as always," he said. I laughed out loud. I hated the fact that that made me laugh, despite the weirdness and bitterness Jenny Taylor's name brought out in me, Alex could still make me laugh. But I sensed from his tone of voice that he was only saying that for me, I knew he probably didn't believe Jenny Taylor was that bad, and she probably wasn’t, but she never let me get close enough to her for me to see how human she was. She and I probably relate about as well as Alex and I did.

"I was going to take you to Monkey's and buy you whatever you wanted," he said as if it wasn’t too late to turn around.

"I really just want to go home today," I said, honestly I didn't want to go for a chance at meeting strange, musty Aiden. We turned on to our street. Alex's arm had moved from around my neck to his hand across my back on to my shoulder. It made me shiver at first. I finally said something else, “I was going to bake cookies for Easter, maybe I can stop by your house tomorrow or something and give some to you."

He looked at me and smiled. "Or we can make some together."

I laughed, "I didn't know you baked."

"I don't. So you can teach me." It did sound like a really cool and fun idea, but coming from him it sounded so... intimate. I felt a bit of relief when we stood in front of his house.

"Well, bye, I guess," I said untangling myself from him.

"Bye," he said as he came closer. I felt nervous. He grabbed my hands. What was he going to do? Kiss me. That's it. He almost fell like a tower when my lips saved his from hitting the ground. He pushed himself into me, making me take a step back. Then he let go of my hands and grabbed my hips; I couldn't help placing mine over his. He inched forward more, pressing our groins together. I felt an urge, a passion.

Suddenly, I felt someone, something standing over my shoulder. Like it had front row seats at a concert, it watched me and my best friend kissing. It was then I became conscious of Alexavier's hands inching slowly upward from my hips, to the top of my waist. I scrunched up my face, wishing his hands wouldn't go any higher. Alex lifted me a couple millimeters off the ground. We kissed harder, and it got harder for me to breathe, I heard the roar of a car pass by. The engine was a gut wrenching sound against the still street. A second later Alex let go. The kiss had felt like it lasted an eternity, but now that he let go, it felt over with. Cold. After I got home I went straight to my bedroom where the afternoon sun was shining in through the window. My lips still buzzed with the feeling of Alex’s honey tasting kiss. That figure I’d felt over us was as natural as a morning routine.

Thursday after school Alex had invited himself to my house to bake cookies after Jenny Taylor had invited him home with her. "Sorry, I promised I'd help Brigitte with something," he explained. Jenny Taylor walked away looking like she was going to cry, I would have consoled her if I hadn't remembered the time last year when she told the boy I liked that I was in love with him after she flirted him into bed. A month of rage had me crying on Alex's front step. He hugged me and told me he would hit someone. 

At home we put our backpacks on the swivel chairs on the island in the kitchen. I grabbed the cookie mix from the cabinet above the sink. I placed it on the counter and grabbed a big mixing bowl from the cabinet parallel to the floor, Alex picked up the box to read it. "What’s the first ingredient?" I asked, only because he was holding the box.

He looked for a minute, "Eggs." I grabbed two eggs out of the fridge. Alex handed me the box and I poured the mix into the bowl along with one egg. I remembered Alex was supposed to be helping me so I handed him the other egg.

"Crack the egg and then stir, I'll start the oven."

He cracked the egg even more gently than I had. I threw in half a stick of butter and watched him struggle to stir. He chopped the butter in the mix and noticed it getting more solid. He put all his strength into it even after I offered to take over. I took some of the cement-like mix into my cold hands and formed a ball like I was making meatballs for dinner. Alex followed my lead. He placed his second ball onto the baking pan; with his third small mass of wet sticky mix, he took some of it off his wad and stuck it on my nose. I let him try to stick it on again after it started slipping off. I felt like Rudolph, and I had to laugh. I tore off a small piece from my ball and chucked it at him as payback. I covered my mouth as I laughed when my piece stuck to his shirt. He wiped the piece off his shirt with his finger; it left a liquid stain that darkened his blue T-shirt. I watched him, wondering if he was going to flick it back at me. He didn't, he seductively licked it off his fingers. I turned to place some more balls of dough onto the pan, and Alex seemed to quit his flirting and limply followed my every move.

I put the pan in the oven while Alex sat down. "How long do we have to wait?" he asked and I turned to him.

"About 25 minutes," I said and he patted the chair next to him for me to sit down and leaned in close. His eyes became wild and his lips moved like he was going to kiss me.

Before our lips touched I said something. "How's Jenny Taylor?" He stopped and leaned back in surprise.

“What?” His hand inched toward mine on the counter.

“Well, Jenny Taylor tried to talk to you; she sounds lonely since you won’t talk to her.”

“Since when do you like her? You know me and Jenny haven’t been anything, and nor will we be,” he leaned in closer, making the chair creek. He looked deep into my eyes. I wanted to keep the conversation going— no, I wanted a conversation going. I’m not totally against dating Alex. It’s just we’ve been friends for so long, and my mind has been so pre-occupied by this feeling of… Aiden. Alex looked at me, his lips that wanted to leap into a kiss, and eyes that had every emotion entwined in two irises. I gave up. I leaned in and pressed my lips to his. I leaned in so close I almost fell off my chair, Alex didn’t seem to notice. His apple smell was enticing. His honey lips formed around mine. I didn’t realize that for once I was enjoying it. What almost seemed like too soon, he leaned back. I opened my eyes and he opened his and smiled just as I felt a smile bloom on my face.  I had completely forgotten about the cookies we were baking for Easter in three days. I was going to take Alex with me to my grandparent’s house. Alex rested a leg on the bottom of my chair and took my hand in both of his. He stroked it tracing his hand over mine like he was putting his hand through beach sand.

He kissed me briefly again as he stood up. Alex grabbed his backpack and unzipped its’ zipper pulling its’ tattered cloth apart into a large black pocket. Alex’s backpack reminded me of ancient cloth and the pocket that held his binder and his Sociology textbook was a black abyss. It reminded me of what my mother used to call my closet upstairs: a black hole. Everything that gets put in it gets lost and can’t be found again.  As Alex was rummaging in his backpack for… something, I saw a black mass from the corner of my eye. It shifted. I couldn’t make out any features, but it was tall and dark and familiar. Without a second thought my mind said, Aiden. I didn’t know how I could know that. Aiden was familiar, but a deeper familiar. One like you’ve known someone a thousand years. I started to feel suffocated. My eyes were on Alex’s backpack, but my focus was on the black mass. Had it watched Alex and I kiss? My brain put words together and I started mouthing them.

Watch me then

Watch me now

Your silence is soft

But silence is loud.

Alex pulled a folded piece of paper out of his backpack. I watched his fingers carefully unfold each corner, flattening out each crease. “I made it for you,” he said as he handed it to me.  On the paper, a tall boy with short hair held out a flower that looked like a rose, in front of a girl. The girl was three inches shorter and had a ponytail that ended a little past her shoulders. She was looking up at him while he was looking lovingly down at her. Alex’s voice interrupted my study, “It’s us. I know it’s not that good, but I had some spare time in class today.” After he mentioned the two people in the drawing were us, I started to see the resemblances.

“It’s really good,” I smiled at him. I thought I’d keep the black and white page close to me while I slept.

7: Seven

Easter morning a loud buzz from my phone woke me up. I sleepily rolled over on my bed to see what time it was. My phone said it was 7:31. With one eye open, I held the phone above my face and read the texts I had gotten.  They were both from Alex. The first one said:

Good morning

The second one was:

I can’t wait to see you today, though I’m a little nervous about meeting your grandparents.

That’s right; I was going to take Alex with me to my grandparent’s house for Easter. My grandparents lived in a city two hours away. I only saw them, maybe, two or three times a year.

I got up out of bed and went into the bathroom to get ready. I started brushing my hair and every dead, half blonde strand made me hate it. The light brown up top was a dull reminder of the color hair I was born with. I wished it were gone, every color my hair is and ever was. I wished my acne was gone, I wished I could get a push-up bra to work.

 “Do you want an egg, Brigitte?” my mother asked before I even noticed her. She was in her blue flower pajama pants and her matching sweater whisking up egg yolks in a green plastic bowl.

“Sure,” I sat down at the little round table parallel to the island. I thought about what I was going to wear, for every family reunion I had always overdressed myself in dresses, straight hair and makeup. I had promised myself this year I wouldn’t do that. My phone made a buzz that vibrated the whole table.

When are we leaving?

I texted back, watching my mother pour an egg into a black metal pan.

To: Alexavier

Around 11 I think.

To: Bridge

Okay, should I come over now?

I looked at the clock, it was only 8:05, and I wanted to go for a run before I got ready myself.

To: Alexavier

Wait a couple hours?

After breakfast I put on my sneakers, put my hair in a ponytail and left the house to go running. I ran past the tree that towered over the side walk in front of my neighbor’s fence. It was the tree Alexavier had tried to climb in eighth grade. I remember watching him lose his footing and scrape his calf, as I laughed and watched him go higher while he cursed the tree.

I ran past Alex’s house on the other side of the street. I could see the lights were off; I looked to the only window on the third floor: Alex’s room. I imagined him just getting out of bed; I could almost feel him up there. He would smile at me and wave with his hair like a bird’s nest and his yellow teeth, if only he looked outside his window. I ran on passing his next door neighbor’s yard, the one that had a strange old lady living there with a Great Dane that barks at birds and chases you if you come near the yard. I noticed that at the side of the yard there was a tree that hung over the fence from Alex’s side-yard. It covered a green snake-like hose and a flower bed full of roses. Like the old woman harvested a sea of blood red flowers. I remembered the rose Alex had given me. I kept it next to my computer at home, it had been almost a week and the rose was lying there, mostly dead, on my lab report that was due on Monday.  Every once in a while I looked at it and remembered the first kiss we had shared; he always used apple shampoo that smelled so indulgent. I turned off my street and ran faster toward the school.

When I got out of the shower after my run I found Alexavier sitting on my bed. I exited the bathroom and he looked up at me. I stopped in sheer embarrassment. I felt my cheeks get warm as I curled my toes on the carpet. Alex has seen me bounce up and down like a school girl, Alex has seen me cry an ocean, but never had he seen me in my robe. “Hello,” he said, his voice showed no recognition of the situation.

“Hi,” I said as I slowly walked to the other side of the bed, away from him.

“You said two hours,” he mumbled as I knelt behind him on the bed. Ignoring him, I looked over at the dead rose that lay next to my computer. I wondered how Alex felt about me keeping it there.

“I got this new shirt I was going to wear,” I said, resting my hand on his back.

“And you want me to leave the room,” he said as he stood up. From where I was kneeling he looked like the Pan Am building.

I put on jeans and a light blue shirt that had sequins on the straps and  a swirly white design on it.  I took fifteen minutes to straighten my hair while my mom and brother were downstairs packing food; Alex was leaning in the doorway of the bathroom watching me in the mirror. His expression didn’t look exited anymore, he almost frowned and his eyes were cloudy, his head hung just a bit low.

“Are you okay?” I asked him.

“Fine,” he said as he scratched his leg.

We walked through the door together and got hit with the sight of aunts, and a couple cousins all talking holding cheese in their hands. Once we all stood in the living room everyone looked at me. I gestured to Alex. “This is Alexavier.” An elder man, my grandfather, about eighty walked up to him on feeble legs. He was bald with what looked like bruises at the top of his oval head. He reached out a shaky hand to Alex.

“I’m sorry, what was your name was son?” His voice sounded raspy as if he’d been smoking for many years.

 “Alex, sir.” Alex shook grandpa’s hand like a gentleman.

“That’s a nice name.” I thought he smiled as he looked at his wife. I could hear the faint whistle that came from his nostrils; air sucking past the white hairs in his nose. He looked back at Alex and raised his hands to his chest introducing himself. “I’m Grandpa Gerry.”

Alex bowed his head then my Aunt Suzanne shook his hand like a lady and said, “Come on, let’s go eat some food.” I pushed Alex into the dining room where I had eaten at on Christmas and Thanksgiving. It was a long table with candles in the middle and bowls of food spread across it. A feast really, but what were they celebrating? Easter, I guessed.

“Sit down,” I told him as I quickly took my seat. He pulled out the tall chair next to mine and sat down. My family picked up plates and started going from bowl to bowl swiftly slopping mashed potatoes, bread rolls, asparagus and some ravioli onto their plates.

 Alex looked over and saw I was doing the same thing. He looked down and noticed a plate in front of him. He tried to copy everyone else. He placed a hard bread roll onto his plate then grabbed a spoon with holes in it and scooped up some ravioli. The ravioli splashed on his plate making a drop of cloudy water splash into a bit of his rugged ash brown hair. I picked up a fork then my grandma interrupted.

“Before we get started does anyone want something to drink?” she stood up and people yelled across the table for water. I heard Alex’s voice politely ask for soda.

“Before we start eating, why don’t we say grace?” my grandma said and my aunt returned with Alex’s soda and my mom, cousins, grandparents and aunt bowed their head as if their head dropped off a string. I looked at Alex expecting him to look uncomfortable, but he looked calm as if he was meditating.

Thank you, God.

Alex seemed to eat slowly. I could tell that he was probably nervous. After dinner Alex and I sat on the couch while my brother spoke to my cousin and all the adults were talking in the kitchen.

“One more week until spring break,” I said out loud to spark a conversation.

“Yeah, I can’t wait, I hate all my teachers,” he sat back.

“Even math class?” I looked over my shoulder at him.

“No, I like the class, just not the teacher.” I laughed because I didn’t know anyone who could possibly like math class.

“You like math?” I asked, sitting back as well. I knew Alex had always been good at it; I never realized he didn’t like the teacher.

“I only like it ‘cause you’re there,” he smiled at me slightly. I laughed a bit awkwardly thinking that was probably the sweetest thing someone’s said to me in a long time. He stretched his arm around my shoulder.

 “But you know,” he continued, “someday, you’re going to have to learn to do the work yourself.”

“Nah, I’ll just have you right there next to me the rest of my life.” After I said that I realized how it must have sounded to him. He grinned and squeezed my shoulder; I felt his foot hit my shoe in agreement.

After we ate pie, and the cookies Alex and I made, I noticed the sun was going down. It had been half an hour since my aunt and cousins left. “We should go,” my mother said, standing next to the TV. Alex quickly stood up. His arm hung by his side like it was stiff. He held out a hand to help me up. This time, I let him be a gentleman and I took it. Alex held on to my hand the entire ride home, while he and my brother talked about a video game series.

The next day at school Alexavier wasn’t there. I waited for him. Then in Algebra I kept looking at his empty desk next to me. Where was he? He couldn’t have been sick, he was fine yesterday. When we arrived home last night he snuck me off behind a tree, grabbed my hand and kissed me softly. He said he had had the best Easter, ever. At lunch April, Sayre and Winslow weren’t there either. At the long lunch table closest to the door where I sit, the only other people there were three other girls in my class. We’ve spoken, but not much. I didn’t know where everybody was. I thought about Lynn, was she still in Florida? I decided to ask her since I was playing with my phone (trying not to look like a lonely idiot) anyway.

To: Lynn

Hey

I stared at the messages until lunch was over.  Last class of the day came. Before it started I check my messages again. No message back from Lynn. Last class I had messaged Alex, no response from him either. I thought about Aiden. Mysterious Aiden. I hadn’t seen him in days. I then recalled our little conversation at Monkey’s; the last time I saw him, I was with Alexavier, which was when had he told me his name. Aiden, that’s the name you gave me. What had he meant by that? Aiden’s disappearing and reappearing was a bit strange. I had felt him there on Friday when I was baking cookies with Alex. His black mass was now recognizable. I could almost feel him when I slept. Even in a deep sleep, it’s like my body knew he was there. I thought about Alex, how I mentioned the day before that it was a week before spring vacation.

Last year for spring vacation I went to the beach with Alex and his family, then I hung out at Monkey’s and bought makeup with Lynn; but I don’t think that will happen this year, since Lynn was in Florida. When the bell rang I checked my messages again. Still nothing back from Alex or Lynn. Remembering that April and her friends weren’t in school either, I felt like there was an event going on that I was missing. I reached my locker and Alex wasn’t there. I could imagine him standing where he stood every day. My locker felt ice cold, and I felt more alone than ever.

8: Eight

Walking home Wednesday, in the damp afternoon, I recalled Alex’s phone call to me before school when he told me he was busy packing. Packing for what? Apparently his mother had been talking about moving for the last year. I asked why he hadn’t told me before, he said because he didn’t want it to be true. He wanted me to be happy.

I felt someone walking behind me. I could even hear the tap of a footstep every once in a while. It started to make me feel claustrophobic and trapped. I started running down the street and turned the corner onto mine. The tree in front of my neighbor’s house caught my eye. I stared at it as my legs sprinted towards it. Suddenly, I jolted back, spun around, and fell backwards. It felt like my shoulder hit someone with a steel chest. Before my back hit the ground fingers caught me. I felt the fingers squeeze the back of my neck and a hand pressed on my back. I looked up and saw dark hair, high cheek bones.

“Aiden,” I whispered. Aiden pulled me upright. I couldn’t say anything, the familiarity of his stature made it hard to breath. For weeks he had been distant, but now he stood two feet away. His gold eyes were bright and shining like a neon sign. He looked at me but didn’t say anything. “Aid-” I started to say, but he curled his lips and kept his hand on my neck. He still didn’t say anything, and his legs were stiff. I took his hand from my neck to observe it. As if I was a palm reader I turned his hand over and guided my fingers through the maze of lines on his hand. He curled it into a fist while mine was still in it.

“Brigitte,” he said, I looked up at him and his golden eyes widened as if he had just had an epiphany.

“I don’t know you, do I?” my voice wasn’t as soft as his. He leaned in as if to sniff me like a dog.

Almost inaudible, he asked, “Could we talk?” Feeling him this close, my heart told me it was comforting, but my brain said he was dangerous.

“S-sure,” I stammered, though I didn’t know of a real private place to talk to a boy I hardly knew, did I? I led him to the fence in front of my house. I looked up at Aiden and his face looked unsure as he studied the front door.

I glanced down the street at Alexavier’s house. I saw a box and an old broken mattress in the yard. I remembered him telling me he was moving. What I didn’t understand was why he hadn’t come to my house. I could’ve gone to his and helped him pack. Was he home now?

I looked back at Aiden and saw him glance down at me. I realized I had taken a longer glance at Alex’s house than anticipated. “Are we going in?” I asked taking a step up the sidewalk. I watched him take a deep breath and look at the house again. What was he nervous for?

Finally he spoke, “I only wanted to make sure. We don’t need to talk.” He dropped his hands from the fence. “Are you sure?” I took another step up the sidewalk.

“Yeah, goodbye, Miss.” He looked like he was going to say something else but stopped himself. He turned and started walking down the street.

“Aiden,” I called after him, he kept walking and suddenly disappeared under my neighbor’s tree.

I gasped at the sight of him being there one moment and gone the next. Had that happened? No, it couldn’t have. I rubbed my eyes; Aiden had left no trace that he had been there. But he was, I remembered. My nose still remembered his musty smell, the touch of his rough hand. Alex’s house looked abandoned, but I couldn’t let Alex leave yet. Across the street, down the road at Alex’s house I hopped up on the front step and banged on the door. No answer, there was no car in the driveway either. He couldn’t have left yet, he would be back to say goodbye. I sat on the cold step and waited for him. I curled up and waited for him all afternoon. Only two cars went by, none of them stopped at the driveway to his house. The more I waited the more cold the house seemed. I wasn’t sure if it was the house that felt empty or if it was me.

The sun was down and I was hungry. Before going home I called Alex’s cell phone. It rang five times then went to voice mail. I hung up and dialed the number again. This time I left a message, “Alex, pick up man! Call me back when I get home, in like, a minute. I wanna talk to you,” I was almost in tears.

My phone made a weird beeping noise and went dead. I looked at the screen; it was giving me this “Low battery” sign. “Damn you!” I screamed at the phone.  I ran home and plugged my phone in to the charger as quickly as I could. I’d message him on Facebook or something but he hadn’t been on his in about two months. I looked at my laptop on the desk below the window, the desk was piled with papers and books; as bad as my mother’s. I remembered I hadn’t been on Facebook myself in two days. I tried to remember my last status. I thought about all 356 “friends” I had. None of them I really cared about anymore.

That night I drifted off into a deep sleep, “The Dangerous Zone” my mother called it. I dreamt I looked down and saw a sea of blood. Strands of grass poked up from the red surface. Limbs from bodies’ scattered across with bones hanging out, a sickly sight that almost made me vomit in my sleep. I looked up at a large man; his torso was black and hard to see against this white light behind him. His loose jacket flew with him in the air. He was floating as high as the heavens, and I realized I was too. “My humans are dying!” I heard myself yell. I felt a tear roll down and it felt like acid rain on my cheek. “Stop!” I cried to the man.

“Don’t cry,” his big voice came through. “When it rains, it pours,” He flashed a huge white smile at me. “For you, that is extraordinarily true,” he said and flashed lightning that just passed my head down to the now less green earth.

A face to a name,

A name to a face,

You must not remember

You shall erase.

I heard those words boom in a poetic spell. I felt like I was falling. I wanted to scream only to find I was waking up back in bed, my neck was sweaty and my feet poked through the blankets at the end of the bed. The room was still dark. Shadows cast on the walls; the moon was full and bright enough to be the sun shining onto the floor.

The next morning I felt immobile. I couldn’t move my legs to get out of bed. A feeling of dread draped over me that made me feel like melting into the mattress and never recomposing. No texts or calls from Lynn or Alexavier. Where were they? When was Lynn supposed to come back from Florida? Was she ever?

6:23 A.M. "Brigitte get up, it's almost 6:30," my mother's voice was muffled though the door.

 I groaned, "I don't wanna go today."

"Well, you need to get up."

"Can I just go late?" I shouted from bed, I heard my mother’s steps go down the stairs, I'm not sure if she heard me.

I finally got up at 7:00, headed downstairs and put some waffles in the toaster. My mother came in, I don't know from where, "so, you're going late?" she asked.

 "Yeah," I said to her. No, I don't want to go at all, I can't bear to see anyone. I had track practice yesterday, so I thanked God I didn't have it today.

I left the house with my lime green shoulder bag. I walked down the street but stopped in front of Alexavier's house. It was emptier than ever. I caught a gleam of something colorful on the front step. My legs sped across the street and up his broken walkway up to his front step. I sucked in my breath when I realized it was a rose. Alex I thought, he was the only one who knew I loved roses. There was a small piece of folded paper tied to the stem. I unfolded it very carefully, my palms pulsated with adrenaline waiting to see Alex's handwriting.

Bridge,

I'm sorry I missed you.

I got my phone service cut off, my mom wanted to save money. Take this rose, it's the best I can do. I wish I could kiss you. I miss you. Do you miss me?

Come visit sometime

138 Westbrook rd. apartment #22 Winchester, CT.

Love,                                                    

Alexavier (I know how much you like that name)

 

Alex come back; I picked up the rose and got lost in a world of memory. The times Alex has kissed me, I hadn’t known he liked me at all in that way. The time I cried in his bed while he rubbed my back asking me to stop. The time he was at my house in 8th grade working on a big Social Studies poster. How he'd go to every one of my track meets. I remembered how we met. It was a week and a half into the school year; the middle school was big and confusing to me. 7th graders like me got dirty looks from the 8th graders. One day in math class I decided to sit next to a boy near the window. He was so quiet even his papers didn't make a noise. He glanced at me while he was drawing before class started. "Hello," I had said. He only mumbled a “hello” back. I wanted to tell him his drawing was good, but I was nervous and then the teacher spoke up to start class. The next day I sat there again. The teacher handed us a worksheet, I had turned to the boy next to me and asked, "Do you get this? Because I don't." The most I have ever heard him talk was when he was explaining. His voice was music. The day after that I turned to him and I blurted out, "my name's Brigitte." He had looked at me with a frown and his eyes widened like a sudden break through.

"I'm Alex. Alexavier." He ran his fingers through his hair and I laughed when he pulled on it trying to untangle his stuck hand.

Five years

Eleven cries

Don't go now

Don't let it die

Here we were, 11th graders, and a sudden fall apart of what once was the closest thing in the world. I hugged the note to my chest. I said my poem out loud:

Five years,

Eleven cries,

Don't go now,

Don't let it die.

I started to feel choked up. Suddenly, I heard a voice behind me. In a lilting voice it said:

A thousand years,

Two-hundred cries,

It's never gone,

But it nearly dies.

I turned around; Aiden stood with his hands in the pockets of his dark blue jeans. "What does that mean?" His presence had me gasping for air.

Aiden bowed his head, "it means exactly what it says." I stood there confused and he laughed and took two steps forward. His laugh was even more poetic than his words. I never actually knew what to say to Aiden. He was so mysterious, it would be better to just forget him. He tilted his head, "your friend moved, where?"

I looked down at the note and read the address out loud. "138 Westbrook Road in Winchester," I said.

"Is that far?" he tilted his head in utter curiosity; it was almost cartoonish. I squinted my eyes trying to remember looking at the state map.

"Maybe an hour away?" my voice didn't sound so sure. Aiden looked down at me as if he'd never seen a creature like me before.

"You're upset?" he asked. I looked up at his eyes. His gold eyes were perfect. How did he know? How did he know I dreaded the morning, how I felt confused and left out about Alex's sudden departure? I moaned an answer to him. 

9: Nine

 

"Could we talk?" he asked holding out his rough hand. I held the rose and the note very close to my chest. I wanted to take it, to see what he had to say to me, but something inside me told me I wasn't ready to hear whatever it was. But his face was so serious. His eyes had less of a shine, his lips were straight across his face and it made me feel claustrophobic. I just couldn't. He noticed my newfound need for more air and put his hand down. He turned to walk away singing a poem. A poem I have heard before, somewhere.

If she remembers

I will fall

But I will come back

Then, she’ll lose it all

I watched Aiden disappear as my mind pondered the words. They rung with a slight familiarity also, like trying to remember a poem I learned in 3rd grade.

It was 10:00 in the morning, too late to go school now. I ran in the park until I knew for sure my mother had left for work. But then I still couldn't go home, my brother was there. I ran through downtown where it was soggy. I stopped and caught my reflection in a dark window of an old building. At the left corner of the window a red and black sign read FOR RENT. The window looked as if it hadn't been cleaned in over two months. In the window I saw my stringy hair with its blonde dead ends. I remembered last year I had had long hair and died it blonde about five times never achieving the right shade of blonde. Now it was short and the top half showed my natural hair color: light brown with natural red and blonde streaks. It had been at least ten months since I dyed it.

 

After dinner I put on my shoes. The sun was just setting and I was going to go for my last run of the evening. As I was putting on my jacket I looked at the rose and the note from Alex, sitting under my lamp. I thought about what the note said, come visit me some time. I saw the rose, a deep red, just like the ones planted in the side yard of his next door neighbor’s house. I remembered the first rose he gave me, the day of our first kiss. “I had to risk going through my neighbor’s yard with that big dog, for you,” he had said. I wondered what was going on with our relationship since then. We were obviously subtly dating, but then he picked up and left without so much as a goodbye. 

“Mom, I’m taking the car!” I shouted to her from the entrance where I grabbed my car keys. I hadn’t used my car at all yet this year. It wasn’t used to driving during the winter because my car was small with less traction than my moms. I creaked open the front door.

“Where?” my mother yelled back. I had to think of something, I didn’t want to lie to her, but I didn’t think she knew Alex had moved away, and I didn’t feel like explaining it to her right then.

"I'm going to meet Alex somewhere," I yelled back and I left before there were any more questions. I drove in silence just listening to the roar of the cars going by. I held the note between my fingers on the steering wheel, and the rose was lying in the passenger seat. I was halfway to Winchester when the sun was nothing but a pink and orange ray above the mountains in the west. I glanced down at the water while I was on a long bridge. The water looked endless in the dark.

Headlights blinded me when I turned into a long driveway. The driveway was dark with four or five trees towering over the cement. At the end of the driveway there were about seven clusters of town houses, each cluster had four attached sky blue, two story, condos. Somewhat elegant, really. What was the apartment number? Apartment #22. I drove around the circle with an island in the middle.

The island had stone bordering and very green properly chopped grass. In the middle was a patch of hyacinths in front of a big bowl looking, marble fountain. I parked my car in front of the third to last cluster in the cul-de-sac; Apartments 20, 21, 22, and 23. The entrance was up a set of stone stairs and there was a navy blue door. I paused at the door. I held in my breath thinking my Alex could be in his room picking his toes playing his older sister's old pink 3DS. I wondered if his little sisters were there, the ones who spend most of their time at their dad's. I wondered how the place looked inside. My thoughts were interrupted by a voice.

"If you want to know, go in!" To my left was Aiden. His eyes were neon gold. Alex was right; Aiden's hair did look amber in the dark. I looked away and knocked on the door.

Knock, knock

I was nervous; I knocked so lightly it was inaudible. I knocked one notch louder.

Knock, knock

Still pretty weak. I knocked a third time, this time I was sure the whole complex could hear it.

Knock, knock

I heard a thump inside the door. Someone was home. A chill went through my body. I blamed it on the chill of the night. The door crept open slowly. So slow I thought there would be a ghost on the other side. The first thing I saw was a foot. A foot caged in a pink sock. I was expecting to see the one person I wanted to see open the door. But once the door opened enough for me to see past it, a small figure, a little girl in black braids stood before me. Her brown skin was more porcelain than I remembered it. Alex's half-sisters were small, their skin darker but always clean. This little being didn't say anything, instead she stood waiting on me. "It's Bridge," I said hoping she'd remember me. "Is Alex here?"

For some reason my heart thumped so loudly I couldn't hear anything else. I was afraid she'd say no. I was afraid she'd say I had the wrong address. She turned around and left the door open and scampered down the hall yelling Alex's name. The living room had that old couch in the center. The one Alex and I have watched movies on. The one I ate dinner talking to his sister about Barbie on. I was relieved to see something familiar in this alien place. An old end table sat in front of a window with grand white curtains draped over it. Boxes lay on the floor.  A small, white lamp sat on a box wrapped in a dry cleaning bag. Alex came out from down a dark hallway. I couldn't help but smile when I saw him. "Hi!"

 "Hello," his smile was small. We walked towards each other with open arms. I love our long bear hugs; it was exactly what I needed.

"Where'd you go?" I punched his arm.

"I left," he said.

"I know, but you didn't say goodbye." Even I could tell there was a bit of anger in my voice. Alex took my hand and led me to his room. His room had the same old bed he's slept in his whole life, the same one we sat on during our poke wars. He had a lamp perched by the wall; a couple of boxes lay in the corner, and a big poster that had the “Legends of Zelda” tri-force on it. Next to the big poster on the wall, there was a smaller poster that had Pokémon, which were less than what the pokedex was now. The room was small; much smaller than his old room. His old room was the whole attic, everywhere was wooden paneling. In his old room lay an old large dresser, boxes of old Halloween stuff, and then a lamp on a table by his bed. The window there was decayed and drafty. Here, in his new room, the size of it was about the size of a walk in closet. These floors weren’t wood, but cold pearl white tiles. The window had a nice white frame around it showing a bit of yard until the next complex of houses outside.  

Alex motioned me to sit down on his bed before he did. I sat on the edge of the mattress with my hands folded in my lap. Then he sat down slowly, our thighs touched. He just watched me as I searched for the most important question to ask him.

“Nice place,” I finally said, I figured I should say something before the room got any more tense.

Alex shrugged, “I miss living near you though,” he ran a hand through his hair. “I start a new school next week. I found yesterday that it’s about as long a walk as the old school.”

            I noticed he said the old school meaning the school that we went to for the last two and a half years was like last month’s newspaper. “You seem to be transitioning well,” I whispered, turning my head to the floor.

“What do you mean?” he asked. Curse Alexavier’s good hearing. I felt rage swelling up in me. How could he be handling this so well? He stopped talking to me for a few days then called me and said he moved, and then I found a note that said his phone service got cut off. Alex may be happy this way, but what about me? He kissed me with love, and then left me like every guy does. My palms got sweaty and because of everything that had been going on my eyes filled with tears.

My voice cracked as I spoke, “Why did you leave?”

Alex looked at me like he’d never heard my voice in pain before. “Why did I leave?” he repeated. I sniffed and closed my eyes as tears began to slide down my cheeks, my hands were clenched into fists.

“Why did you just leave without saying goodbye?” I screamed at him. Alex’s expression went from calm, to sick, to dreadful.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he whispered back. Another tear rolled down and hit my hand.

“But you did-” my throat closed up and it was getting hard to breathe. I sniffed and Alex brushed my hair behind my ears so that he could see my face. I can’t imagine it was very pretty.

“I know,” he lowered his head. If he knew, then why would he do it? I asked him, he said he didn’t know what else to do. He’s not a fast thinker when it comes to emotional stuff. My lip quivered a bit and I sniffed and closed my eyes again. Suddenly, I felt his chest on my ear, his chin just above my head, and his arms wrapped around me holding me close. His heart seemed to race the moment it touched my skin. The tears were still falling and it actually hurt. I wailed and hit his chest with weak little punches. I couldn’t look up at him, but somehow I knew, he would be crying too.

I don’t know how it happened, but once I stopped crying, and Alex wiped away my tears, we sat on his bed and laughed like normal. I guess that’s the way relationships work; you can go through bad times, but sometimes, it had no effect on the good.

“Spring vacation starts tomorrow afternoon,” I said as I put my bare feet across the bed next to his.

“Not for me,” he said, “I start school on Monday.”

“Then we have the weekend,” I smile at him.

“If it’s not too much trouble for you to drive up here” he said.

“For you? Never.”

He seemed to smile brightly at that. I shivered from an unexpected chill. I looked outside and it was pitch black. I didn’t think I’d make it back home tonight. Although, I did have a test in Global studies the next day, and it was just one more day until vacation; still, I looked at the clock on my cell phone. I heaved a sigh, but a surprised look to see it said in big white numbers: 9:37 P.M. My mother was bound to call soon.

Alex put his hand on my knee and said, “You can stay the night.”

I looked up at him, “Really?”

 “Yeah, I’ll just go sleep on the couch, you can sleep in here.” That reminded me of when Alex would sleep over at my house. I would throw a pillow at him and he would sleep on a sleeping bag on the floor in front of my bed. At his house, by his mother’s rules, we weren’t even allowed to sleep in the same room. I don’t completely get why, what are two friends going to do?

At exactly 10:00 my phone buzzed so loud that I’m sure his little sister in the room next door could hear it. Alex was handing me a large blanket and I was fixing his pillow to accommodate my head.

“Hello?” I answered. Alex seemed to tuck me in like a child while I spoke to my mother.

“Brigitte it’s 10:00, are you still somewhere with Alex?” I imagined her biting her lip like she does when she gets disturbed by something.

“I’m at his house. I’m gonna stay the night,” I said to her turning onto my side while Alex fixed the corners of the blanket.

“Oh alright,” she said, I imagined her rubbing her ear like she does when she’s negotiating with me. As far as my mother knows, Alex still lives down the street.

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay,” she said back.

Awkwardly I said, “Alright.”

She responded, “Alright, bye.”

And then I just hung up. Alex stood looking down at me and it reminded me of the feeling of Aiden watching me sleep; it reminded me how it felt to be safe.

 

10: Ten

It was raining driving home at 9:00 Friday morning. The drops of rain pelting the roof of my Sonata made me think I was going to find it all dented on the outside. I was going to try to get up early enough so I would be able to be at school today, but I woke up at 6:58 and remembered I was still at Alex’s house and decided to forget it, and I went back to sleep. My mother would be disappointed I skipped school again.

On the highway I could feel that my tires didn’t have good traction. My car didn’t have very good tires and I could tell. The sky was a foggy mist and bullet-like raindrops pelted the windshield like rocks. My windshield wipers were already set to high speed.

“Damn, why is it raining so much?” I whispered to myself. I watched cars drive past me throwing water on my window from the wet road.

“Rain only comes when someone is really, very sad.”  Aiden’s voice sounded like both lightning and thunder next to me. I sucked in my breath and turned my head to look at him next to me. He sat comfortably in the passenger seat next to me. His knees pointed at me and his arm was over the shoulder of the seat. Behind us cars drove smoothly off the road down a ramp that was titled EXIT 46, just out of Winchester and into Torrington. A sound started coming from underneath my tires, it sounded like a cheese grater cutting up my tiers. The passenger side door was close to the guard rail. I looked forward and realized I had driven myself on to the shoulder.

“So, who’s very sad?” I asked running a hand through my hair glancing up at a clear lightning bolt in the dark-grey sky. The rain drops seemed to have gotten smaller and were flying sideways with the wind.

Aiden spoke slowly against a crackling boom of thunder. His voice was an octave lower than the low boom outside my window. “A whole village,” he said. I laughed with a sudden elation. I somehow gained a confusing energy from the storm, or maybe it was a high from Aiden’s presence. I felt him looking at me as I laughed a little louder and pressed down more on the accelerator.

“Must you speak so poetically?”  I smiled and looked in to my rearview mirror; Aiden rested his hands tensely on his lap.

“You write poems don’t you?” he looked straight out the window; his burgundy hair covered his eyes.

“Sometimes,” I said as a soft cloud of thunder sounded in the car.

“Write one now,” he looked at me. I was now halfway to Waterbury. Another flash of lightning and the rain eased up a bit.

“I only write on paper,” I objected.

“You come up with the words in your head, right?” he asked.

“Yeah but-” I slowed the speed of my windshield wipers.

“So, come up with words then,” he gestured me to think. Taillights of cars reflected on the wet road. I think hard. For a minute there was silence. Half of my brain conjured up meaningful words, the other half of my brain focused on information signs and the cars driving next to me. I strangled myself for words just like I do every time I write.

I can’t say a word

If I do the world will end.

I’ll be the cause

I’ll be the blame.

I recited words to Aiden. When I was finished I glanced at him, he seemed to enjoy it until I stopped. I looked at the sky above the highway, the dark clouds began to dissipate, and I noticed the rain had stopped. 

“Go on,” Aiden’s voice sounded hungry for more. I wished I could close my eyes and truly feel the words but I couldn’t. I passed a sign that said EXIT 38 before I began muttering my poem again.

I can’t write anymore.

My words are too strong

Slowly, you’ll die.

I took a deep breath. The more I recited the words the more I knew it to be true.

I can’t say a word,

I’ve said too much

Like insects eating me,

I’ll be the fire

I’ll be the bomb.

“Is there more you want to say?” Aiden asked, but his voice didn’t match the formation of his mouth. I continued.

I can’t write anymore

My words are defeating

Slowly, I’ll die.

My heart sank lower than my stomach. This what writing did to me: The more I write, the more I feel depressed. The perfect example of: adoration is the one thing that destroys you. That was a line in a book I once read.

“And for the finale?” Aiden asked as if he knew one more stanza and the poem would be done, where he would be waiting with a standing ovation. I took another breath and continued as I entered the Waterbury town line.

I can’t say a word

If I do, the world will end.

I’ll be the cause

I’ll be the blame

I’ll be the bomb

I’ll be the flame.

Aiden clapped. A sound that rang in my eardrum boomed from his hands.

“Are you happy?” I asked him feeling a bit of resentment; my depression seemed to be something to be proud of. A large truck suddenly came roaring up next to my side mirror making me jump.

“You’re not?” he asked. “Do you have any idea how powerful your words are?” he sounded dumbfounded. I chuckled remembering another line from a book I read.

But words are worth a thousand tears.

Aiden crossed his legs and looked at a small spider that had been hibernating in the car for six spider generations. At first I hated them being there, but now the spiders in here were my friends. “I need to talk to you,” he said.  I remembered the last time he said that to me. He held his hand out to me in front of Alex’s house asking if he could chat with me. How I wanted to take Aiden’s hand, but I couldn’t for some reason. I remembered Aiden’s constant disappearing and reappearing. The first words he ever spoke to me: Who are you?

I let out a deep breath feeling the nervous claustrophobia I get when I’m around Aiden. “Who are you Aiden?” I asked expelling a deep breath to relieve my anxiety.

“What do you mean?” he asked looking at me.

“I mean who are you? Where do you come from?” I wasn’t sure if he could hear the attitude in my voice. Aiden looked back to the road and rested his head on his palm.

“You don’t remember anything do you?” he asked in a disappointed voice. I shook my head confused glancing at him then quickly back at the road. He sighed, “I come from…” he paused as if he had to think about where he was born. “Near Ireland,” he said. I was now traveling through the middle of Waterbury. Buildings towered like you would expect in a city. A lot more trees than you would expect, but I was used to forest-like lands.

“Near Ireland?”

“Yeah, near,” he said. He scratched his head.

“What like France? England?” I asked to be more specific.

“No.”

I shook my head with attitude, "Where else is near Ireland? Scotland?"

"No,” he muttered. He clenched his hand into a fist and clenched his teeth. It looked like an exaggeration of when Jenny Taylor looked at me when I was with Alex in the hall at school.

"Why are you getting upset?" My focus was not on the road anymore, but it had to be for another hour.

"No more questions," he ordered. I shut up and drove making as little sound as possible. Passing the sign that said SEYMOUR NEXT 4 EXITS, my stomach began to growl. I suddenly remembered the ancient instinct to eat whenever food was found. I felt my blood sugar drop.

"Mind if I stop and eat?" I felt weird for breaking the silence, but I guessed that maybe my stomach had already done that.

"Wait until we get to Ansonia," his voice sounded annoyed and demanding again. I closed my mouth and looked straight ahead. I felt like a spell was put on me tying my mouth shut and I didn’t say anything more. 

11: Eleven

We parked at a little diner off Main Street in Ansonia at 1:26 P.M. My stomach at this point hurt and so did my head. Aiden crawled out of the car after me. I locked my Sonata and squeezed my body in between two tightly parked cars in front of the door to the diner. Aiden's body was small enough he didn't need to put effort into trying not to hit the mirror. Inside, the diner was cool with dim lamps and a dark blue painted wall. People sat at booths with wooden benches. Aiden and I were the only young ones there.

"Take a seat in the back if you'd like." A woman in her thirties stood in front of us with menus. Her smile was pasted on like she had perfected it after years of practice. She pointed to booths behind an archway in another room. The small room had large windows and a small stage with a ruby red guitar on a black stand and a microphone with a wild loopy wire that lay disconnected on the floor. Above the stage were musical notes made from old records. It made me wish I was out here having lunch with Alex. He'd tease me to go up and sing a song, and he'd cackle when I'd tell him no. Then he'd laugh harder and suggest I sing a Girl Scout song and trot around the stage like Christina Aguilera.

I scooted closer to the window "You wanted to talk to me right?" I asked taking a breath. Aiden kept his mouth shut as a busty woman in uniform came up to us.

"My name is Maria and I will be your server. May I get you any drinks to start out with?" Maria's rusty fifty-year-old voice sounded both inviting and gut wrenching. I looked at Aiden expecting him to speak first, but all he did was look back at me with his fingers on the table entwined together.

"Water," I said looking back up at Maria. Maria looked at Aiden, I did too.

He finally said, "nothing, thanks." Maria looked at her note pad where she would have written down orders, even though she had not written anything down on it.

"Okay so, one water and one nothing," she had a joyful smile on her face, completely natural. "I'll be right back." She walked off holding her wrists together, her yellow uniform dress and her white flat nursing shoes made me think of her working in a nursing home. Her white curly hair on the back of her head told me that she had dealt with a lot of stress in her younger life. I wondered why Aiden hadn't ordered anything.

Aiden sat looking at me, indicating that I should speak first. I tapped my knuckles on the cold aluminum table. "You've been wanting to talk to me?"  He looked out the window silently. He looked fixated on something; I looked out but couldn't find a trace of what he was looking at.

"Aiden," I leaned forward in a softer voice.

"Give me another poem."

"Now?"

 "It's in your nature to write." He grinned. He was right. It's like he knew how I could come up with poetic lines out of nothing, like he's watched me do it his entire life. I looked around for some inspiration. I didn’t know why he had asked me for another poem or why I was sitting there with a kid to whom I only know the name of. Did I know more? Looking back at his face he looked like he was listening intently. His eyes had a hint of green in its gold cornea.

The waitress, Maria, came back with a tall glass of water. "Here you go hon, anything else?" she looked at Aiden, then to me, then back to Aiden. "Something to eat?" she added almost in a joking manor. Compared to the hostess we saw when we walking in, Maria seemed to actually like her job, or us. I remembered I was starving.

 "Oh," I said, "do you have..." I didn’t know where I was going with that. I hadn’t had a chance to look at the menu that was laid directly in front of me. Or I did get a chance; I was just too focused as to what Aiden had wanted to talk to me about.

"May I suggest nothing too sticky?" Maria cupped her mouth so only I could see, and she whispered to me, "Don't wanna be a mess in front of your man, now do you?" she winked at me and put her hand down. Aiden shifted uncomfortably like he had heard it. "For young things like you, may I suggest some onion rings? Or... pie!" She used hand gestures to search for suggestions in the air. Aiden finally spoke up.

"The rings, they're fine." He said it in a voice that told me he wanted the waitress to skip away and let us talk.

"Yes, sir!" Maria winked at me again and marched off like she was in the army.

“Give me another poem,” he repeated.

“Like what?” I rolled my eyes at him for his consistency.

 “Anything. I just want to make sure.”

“Make sure of what?”

He leaned forward and in a soft voice he said, “To make sure you’re who I think you are.”

“And who do you think I am?”

“You’re Brigitte, the Brigitte. And we need you to come home.”

I let my mouth hung open for a long time. I didn’t know what he was talking about. ”Home?”  Back to my house in South-Eastern Connecticut?

“Home,” he said and smiled, like he was reminiscing about older times.

“Alright here you go kids” Maria came and carefully placed a basket of onion rings in the middle of the table. She winked at me again making me imagine she had a medical problem with her eye. She walked away her big butt swaying from side to side. I watched her leave as a couple sat down at a table next to the archway. I watched a skinny dirty blonde haired woman sit down fixing the strap on her purse, and a man hang his jacket on the back of a chair before sitting down across from the woman. Aiden brought my attention back to him in a voice that sounded taunting, and before I looked I could feel his lips curled up in a devilish smile.

“So, how about that poem?”

“About what?” I took a deep breath readying myself for writing. Aiden looked out the window for a second. His profile looked very cute.

He looked back at me and answered, “How do you feel?” He asked.

“Now?” I searched for clarification.

“All the time, every day,” he said. I looked at him and heard myself voice words that played off his Egyptian gold eyes.

 

I feel like a germ

An infection

A plague.

I feel like an alien

A being

A thing.

I am matter

Air

Space.

I am nothing

Non-existent

A face.

Even though the poem was finished my mouth was still open. Aiden smiled like I had answered all his questions, like I had satisfied all his demands, like I had diminished all his doubts.

“Hello, Miss Brighid.” I looked around confused. Onion suddenly waft up my nose, I looked down at the rings and remembered I hadn't eaten yet. I picked one up and pulled it apart not paying attention to Aiden who sat waiting for my response.

"Miss Brighid?" He sat back in his seat. I put a small piece of the onion ring in my mouth. I watched his eyes. They were bright and hopeful.

"Who are you calling Brighid?" I tore off another piece.

"You," he said, and then smiled, "you are my Brighid." I tore off a third piece of an onion ring and pushed the basket away from me, too disturbed to eat now. I looked around ready to go home. The name he called me rung in my ear, then I suddenly remembered Aiden's first words to me, I heard his voice say it to me in my head. I remembered when he suddenly appeared next to me at Monkey's when I was with Alexavier. Aiden, that is the name you gave me. What did he mean by that?

Still looking at the space of the room I asked, "what did you mean by that?"

"Mean by what?" He linked his fingers together and rested them on the table like he had when he sat down.

 "When you told me your name," I explained, "you told me it was the name I gave you, what did you mean?" I had my back glued tightly to the back of the booth. He spoke in a low voice making sure only I heard it.

"You gave me that name when I was born. ‘Little fire' you called me. You promised you'd protect me. In return I gave you my praise, and fought for you, as you have done for me." He paused to study my reaction.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, frowning. Aiden took a long, deep breath and looked at the wall above me. "How do you keep finding me?" I asked in a soft voice, remembering his disappearing and reappearing, and his mystic familiar scent that was now just a mild smell.

"It was hard to find you, you're hardly recognizable. But I found you once, one time is enough."

I told Aiden I was uncomfortable, and that I wanted to go home with or without him. I could hardly focus on driving home, but I drove the next hour and a half and got home safe enough. I closed the front door and put my keys on the table next to the coat rack.

"You didn't go to school today did you?" my mother's voice rang from the kitchen. When I walked in she had her back to me scrubbing a copper pot.

"No, I didn't," I said tired from my day.

"Why not?" she asked, placing the pot into the dishwasher. I knew the school must have called this morning.

"My phone died and Alex didn't wake me up," I lied. She turned around and put one hand on her hip.

"Brigitte, I don't want your grades to go down. You got to start going back to school." I wanted the conversation to be over.

"I'll go tomorrow then," I said.

"Tomorrow's Saturday."

"Right. I need the break," I muttered.

That night I drifted off to sleep and I dreamt of a large room with many beautiful archways, in the middle of the room was a large marble table, and under it stood marble stools. “Brighid,” a man came in with a tray that was the finest aluminum and held a small fancy kettle with a floral design, and a matching goblet next to it. “Bres wants you, he needs your wisdom,” his voice was somewhat deep.  The man had flowing black hair and wore a drape. I heard my voice speak out.

“Midir, I have already given that boy my wisdom, I can’t snap my fingers to make him a better king. He knows he’ll have to do it himself. All the wisdom in the world won’t help him if he’s not willing to do something with it.” 

Midir spoke up again. “He is your husband, king of Tuatha Dé Danann. And you, daughter of the Dagda, surely you can help him.”

“He is my husband as much as he is an unpopular king,” I said, the man poured red wine into the goblet.

“Miss Brighid…” he started to say but I cut him off.

“Midir, let him sob.”

The dream seemed like a real event, perhaps a memory. The room was beautiful, outside the archways were towers and fluffy clouds. Roses hung on a vine that climbed up pillars. The floor I stood on was marble, along with the table. But this dream wasn’t over yet.  From a cloud I watched a boy crouched on wet ground in a pasture. Behind him were a small barn and that sound of yelping goats and chickens carried up to my ears. I watched the boy butcher a goat right there. In front of all the other goats, the grass under him turned red from every slice of the machete. The boy had long dark hair and wore moccasins. The name Aiden rang on my lips. Aiden.

I watched him from so high up I thought I might fall off the cloud.  But I stood there with an unfamiliar confidence.  It was strange for me to watch an animal being killed without the slightest bit of pity. 

12: Twelve

When I awoke a verdant sun hung high in the heavens. The first morning in a while that hadn’t had the dull aftermath of rain; the grass did not have dew crystalizing it. I rolled off the bed and caught myself before I thumped on the carpet. Although, this is one of those days that if I had rolled onto the floor, I would have stayed there. My hair fell like dreadlocks in front of my face. For some reason, that dream had exhausted me, although I could not remember any of it the moment I opened my eyes. My heart felt heavy with information I couldn’t process. I got up and dragged myself down the stairs for breakfast.

 

I took a look at myself in the mirror. A pair of jeans I've worn for a year, a blouse I've had since I was twelve and half strawberry blonde hair that's only grown five or six inches since I cut it real short about this time last year. I thought about what Aiden had told me. I found you once, one time is enough. How did he keep finding me? Why does he care to keep finding me? He told me a story the other day about how I promised I would always protect him. When did I promise him that? Maybe that story wasn't true. Maybe Aiden is the poet, not me. Maybe he's just a creepy ass kid your friends warn you about. If that's the case, I don't want him finding me again. I have to do something to make him not recognize me.

 

I had sat in the Solon chair for an hour already and the colorist had only put the base color on and was in the back mixing more. I would have fallen asleep, if only the peroxide wasn't burning my scalp. My mother had gone to get me some hot chocolate. I sat in the chair with the woman painting colored bleach on my head, I felt like I was transforming; it had been, at the very least, two years since I had gone to the hair dresser. I felt like who I was before melted away with stroke of the brush. I felt like since I would have a new look, I should have a new personality as well. I felt like yesterday I was Brigitte, today I am Allyson. I will use my middle name as my first. I will go someplace this spring break, to a city where no one knows my name. Maybe if I wore my old glasses hidden in my desk drawer, maybe then Aiden wouldn’t find me. The colorist was a pretty blonde with a stroke of pink on the side of her head. Her roots were brown and reminded me of how bad my hair must have looked. I watched her from the corner of my eye coat one last lock of blonde. I watched her dab blobs of coloring on it until the dead ends weren't blonde anymore. That last stroke washed away the pride that came with my new identity. I frowned when I thought this new hair is just covering up what once stood as a bad hair day for nine months.

The colorist went on and colored someone else’s roots, while I stood next to my mother in the waiting area. My mother sipped her tea and watched people at the reception desk, while I stood with colossal wet peroxided hair. My scalp began to burn. It hurt more so the longer I stood there. I walked slowly off into a corner and pretended to look at the detanglers. My scalp burned more. Like it was on fire, or like it had swallowed a mound of buffalo sauce. It smelled deeply of chemicals. I prayed that Aiden wasn’t going to pop up and ask me to tell him another poem. Not while I’m like this, not ever again.  

“You look completely different! Wow, this color is gorgeous!” The colorist drooled over the wire of the blow dryer that was drying my hair after washing it for the tenth time. My mother stood in front of me smiling. She could probably imagine how elated I felt. I took a look in the mirror. My once lifeless, multicolored hair had molted into a bouncy, rich dark brown. For once my hair wasn’t like string, now it had full curls that held the shape of a tornado whirling on the ground. A new Brigitte is exactly what the old one needed. I couldn’t wait to show Alexavier and April, or maybe even let Jenny Taylor get a glance. But I would have to wait until spring break was over.

“Think anyone could recognize you?” My mother grinned.

“I hope not,” I mumbled to myself, that’s the point.

When I got home I went up the stairs into the bathroom and sent a picture of my new hair to April. April and I hadn't spoken in days.

To: April

What do you think?

:Attachment:

 

To: Bridge

Awesome!!!

 

I smiled. April would support me in anything, but I missed seeing her. I'd have to wait a week until I could see her again. I typed a reply.

To: April

Hopefully now he won't find me.

But I stopped when my finger was just above the send button. She wouldn't know what I was talking about. I hadn't told anyone about Aiden yet. Let alone anything he had said to me. I didn't send the message, nor did I delete it. On impulse I put on a sweater, put my headphones in, and despite my new beautiful curls, I walked out the door, hopped off the front porch, and ran down the street.

I ran under my neighbor's tree avoiding a hand-like branch that reached for me, snatching a strand of my hair as I swiveled by. My feet picked up the pace and I ran faster; past Alex’s old house down the street from mine. I glanced at the blue shingled roof and matching door. I noticed the flowers in the flower box that were completely dead; they must have been ruined by the rain.

I run to relieve stress, but ever since Alex left to go live in Winchester without saying anything, my world had become a jail. The stress of Aiden finding me and my best friend leaving captivated me. Traveling with a new identity that I made up to hide my old one made me not want to go home. At home there was the woman who gave birth to me and the same clothes I’ve worn since sophomore year. Even today I am wearing a T-shirt that says everyone makes mistakes, that’s why pencils have erasers. I bought it in late August before my sophomore year started. Lynn had taken me to the mall for a back-to-school-shopping-spree. That was the last time I ever really went shopping for clothes. Even before my junior year started this year, Lynn and I went back to the mall that was 45 minutes away. She bought maybe three outfits in one store, and another two from a different one, while I still held on to my only bag of two tops  from the last store. Those tops I only wore twice because I found I bought them two sizes too small and never went back to swap them for the right size.

A boy almost hit me with his skateboard as I ran past an intersection downtown. I realized I was heading towards my old elementary school. The boys I passed in the intersection looked like they could be students there. I could see a tall brick building with three floors and windows on every wall. Every room inside the windows looked dark. I picked out the windows that belonged to the Special Ed room I would spend five out of the seven hours of the school day in. I remembered most of my teacher’s names; Mrs. Kauffmen my kindergarten and first grade teacher, Mrs. Woodslen the second grade teacher, Mrs. Lebrator, fourth grade, and Mrs. Solovei, fifth grade. And I only remember two out of my three sixth grade teachers.

In the front of the school there was an island of grass caught in the middle of the main road and the drop-off area. In the middle of the island was a statue of a solder kneeling with his rifle pointed straight up. I noticed I had lost pace while admiring the old building. I kept running past it. Next to the elementary school was a Baptist church that I had only learned was Baptist last summer. Across the street from that was a pet store. They didn’t sell animals; they sold things like flea killers, food and toys. Looking straight ahead there was a small intersection coming up. I realized that if I went right, I could go to the town cemetery, if I went straight I would find myself at Lynn’s house, and even beyond that would be the docks.

 

I found myself sitting on a rock looking at a small headstone of an eight-year-old who died long before I was born. Above the headstone was the rest of the cemetery, a sea of rugged old tombstones and then a large hedge. Beyond the hedge was an eerie pond that looked like the door to the underworld in mythology. It was covered in moss and a minty green surface. I knew my styled curls had turned into sweaty waves. My legs were tired, but I liked the exhaustion. I had missed track practice on Friday. I knew we had practice this week too.

A beautiful song came from above. In the trees above me were singing robins. I tried to hum along with them, but their song was too complicated. I actually felt at home here. Suddenly, I remembered a dream I had had some days ago. A big man stood with a bright light behind him. I remembered his thundering voice but not the words. Below me was a gory scene of human and immortal blood. Somehow I was able to pick out the different blood types. Somehow I knew blue blood was from the immortals. The blue coated parts of the red. Even after I had not remembered that dream when I woke up, how did I remember now?

My phone buzzed and startled me. I had received two text messages. One of them was from a number I didn’t know.

 

860-666-7594

Hey, Bridge, it’s me Alex. Mom let me have her phone for a while.

I felt like if I had texted back a message would come back saying it’s the wrong number. But I trusted Alex.

To: 860-666-7594

From: Brigitte

Hello Mr. Alex

 

The second text I had received was from Lynn.

To: Brigitte

From: Lynn

Hey

To: Lynn

From: Brigitte

Hey!

To: Brigitte

From: Lynn

What’s up?

 

I stopped my fingers right there. I hadn’t spoken to Lynn in maybe a week. She was still in Florida I thought. Usually there would be nothing new. But this spring everything seemed to be new. She wouldn’t be surprised if I skipped school because I did that all the time in middle school. I still wasn’t ready to tell anyone about Aiden. The more I saw him the more familiar he became, and possibly more dangerous.

To: Lynn

From: Brigitte

I dyed my hair, that’s about it.

 

I could have typed a whole page on these last couple of days, but I refrained. My phone buzzed again with the unsaved number on it.

 

To: Bridge

From: 860-666-7594

I’m home!!! Apparently my mom needed to talk to a real estate agent at the house. I’m happy ‘cause I get to see you! But I knocked on your door and your mom said you went out for a run.

 

I smiled at his text. The way he put it made his speech familiar. He was here? I had just come home from his new place yesterday. I was enjoying the peace of being able to think by myself in a place other than home, but I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to hang out with Alex the way we did only a week ago.

At the end of the curb on my street was Alexavier holding a stick waiting for me. He was looking the other way and I got the idea I could sneak up on him. I walked quietly up to him. But before he was within reach he looked my way. He didn't recognize me at first. His face lit up when I stopped in front of him. "Hey," I smiled. His eyes widened in shock. He lifted his hand and caressed a strand of my new hair.

"You... You ruined it," he said while staring at my hair. I lifted my eyebrows.

 "Ruined it?" I could hear a bit of a snicker come from my mouth.

"I liked you as a blonde. It went nicely with your skin." He placed his whole hand on the side of my head, his eyes still inspecting it.

"My natural color is brown. You didn't like that?" I snapped.

"No! I li--"

"Well, I'm sorry I was so ugly for the first two and a half years of knowing you!" Alex's face looked calm like he was trying to lower my shouting voice.

He put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Think I like you as a brunette more." Something in his voice said that maybe he was killing me with kindness.

We walked side by side to Monkey's Smoothie Bar. I quickly forgave his remarks on my hair. We passed an old couple holding hands and then Alex took mine. I was happy to see my best friend again; I didn't care what he did to me this time. We passed under a wooden sign hanging out from the roof of the small store right next to Monkey's. In vertical letters it read ANTIQUES.

I was happy with Alex next to me; it felt like it did just before he moved away so suddenly.

“How has your day been?” Alexavier asked as we passed the last ANTIQUES window.

“Pretty good,” I smiled up at him. When he looked down at me I could tell he eyed my hair. He pulled me in front of him by pulling my arm. Then he opened the glass door that had a poster of Monkey’s new coffee mocha smoothie. We went through the door then he put his hand in his pocket and stopped.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. He looked down and took his hand out of his pocket and searched the butt pocket of his jeans.

“Oh shit,” he whispered.

“What? No money?” I asked.

“I must have left it on my bed,” he said slowly. I put my hand on his shoulder and pushed him out of the way of a customer coming in.

“I’ve got money,” I said. He looked disappointed. I didn’t understand why. Sophomore year I had to pay for him all the time. In ninth grade we had a deal to switch off; One week he’d pay, the next week I would. He shouldn’t be ashamed of me needing to pay this time. I would feel bad if I didn’t.

We moved up in the short line to order. “Are you starting school there?” I asked changing the subject.

“Yeah, on Monday, I told you that,” I heard some irritation in his voice that made my skin itch.

“School doesn’t have spring vacation?” I asked looking to the opposite side from where Alex was standing.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. We moved up and got up to the counter. I dug for my wallet in my purse. I was prepared to order for myself but Alex spoke up and ordered us both a coffee mocha smoothie. It had been my new favorite since they started selling it. It was charming how he remembered.

We sat down at our usual table in the corner by the door. Alex sat so close to me half of his body was on my chair. I ran my fingers through my hair and watched a flake of dandruff float down to the table. I lifted my cup and studied the logo on the front. I wanted to ask how his new neighborhood was, but I didn’t like to feel distanced from him. We took a sip simultaneously and Alex started bobbing his leg. His thigh was rubbing mine, I thought to myself “I could let this seem sexual and awkward, or I could think about my skin getting irritated.” I bit my lip and looked away knowing he would be watching me. I heard a squeal, four other laughing voices, and one loud one.

Jenny Taylor. There, Jenny Taylor sat chugging Monster down like it was a can of beer. She laughed and raised her can as if to say cheers. I’ve never seen Jenny Taylor’s smile that real before. I never imagined her face had the complexity to flex into a smile that big. Her friend, sitting across from her, was a girl who was in three of my classes last semester, named Haley. The boy sitting next to them was a senior who had graduated last year. The other two girls I had never seen before.

I elbowed Alex, “Jenny Taylor,” I said in the low voice. Alex’s leg immediately stopped bobbing and he looked over my shoulder with a serious face. I watched her for a second more then looked at Alex. He had lowered his eyes to look in mine. He waited for me to say something about it, as I waited for him. Finally, he put his arm around my shoulder and ducked his head.

“Don’t bother her,” he said in a low tone.

“Have you spoken to her?” He blinked, twice.

“No, Jenny and I have not spoken,” he shook his head. I sat up straight.

“How come you call her Jenny?” I asked. He sat up too.

“It’s her name isn’t it?”

“I was told you only call people by their first names if you personally know them.”

“How come you call her Jenny Taylor?”

“Because I don’t personally know her, I know her, but I don’t actually know her. So I call her by her first and last.”

Alex gave me a puzzled look. I looked back at her and her quad. “How come she hates me? Do you know why?” After a moment of silence I looked back at Alex. He blinked.

“Well why do you hate her?” I scrunched my face.

“Because she hates me!” Alex gave an even more puzzled look.

For ten minutes I sat sipping my coffee flavored mocha smoothie and from the corner of my eye I could see Alex still contemplating our last conversation. His eyes squinted and stared out into nothing and his lips quiver, and I could almost hear his brain about to explode inside of him. Down on my shoulder was a lock of brown hair. I look up and past Alex was a large mirror. I starred at myself. I picked out every color of brown in my new hair. I saw every dismayed freckle made by the sun. And I remembered I was going to change my name. With a new look, comes a new person. I read in a book once: Be who you want to be, not who you are. If I dyed my hair, if I found my old glasses and wore them, if I changed my name, Aiden wouldn’t find me would he? Aiden hadn’t found me yet today; I want to keep today devoted to Alex. My Alexavier.

“I’m thinking about changing my name,” I blurted out. I broke his concentration and he looked at me and softened his face.

“To what?”

 “Allyson, maybe.”

            He took a sip of his smoothie, “Why Allyson?”

“It’s my middle name.” He should have known that.

“Oh, right.” And he took another sip. He sounded a bit disappointed. “Still,” he continued, “Why Allyson? Brigitte is too beautiful of a name to change.” His face turned charming and I seemed to notice then that his hand caressed the back of mine. Alex slowly leaned in. My head wasn’t registering what he was doing until he grabbed my chin and pressed his lips to mine. It had been awhile since we’ve kissed. I sort of hoped Jenny Taylor was watching.  It felt more like a new beginning than ever.  But that scent of his apple shampoo held back memories — and tears.

Why Allyson? Brigitte is too beautiful of a name to change.

Exactly why it should be changed. 

13: Thirteen

Sunday I spent the morning digging through my room looking for my old glasses. I hadn't worn them since halfway through middle school. I stopped wearing them after my friend told me I looked like an old librarian and then laughed. Alex had texted me that morning saying he stole his mother's phone again and that he had a good time with me the day before. I almost promised I'd drive up and visit him today, but I told him I was too tired and he said he understood.

To: Alexavier

From: Brigitte

:Attachment:

Remember these old things?

 

To: Bridge

From: Alex

I like them. The green on the glasses go well with your eyes.

            I smiled at his charming remark.

To: Bridge

From: Alex

I like your hair like that too.

I had my bangs pulled back in a small clip at the top of my head.

To: Alexavier

From: Brigitte

I thought you hated my hair.

 

To: Bridge

From: Alex

The brown is nice. It just needed some getting used to.

 

I felt the anger from yesterday when he told me I had ruined my hair, I let it all go. I smile every time I talk to him, maybe because I've known him for so long, talking to him had become routine.

From the corner of my eye, my mind played memories on my bed. As if I were watching a movie my eyes traced the room where Alexavier and I had been after Monkey's. First, the nightstand where he kissed me, then to the edge of the bed while we talked about what we plan on doing with our lives. I planned on going to a good college in New York, while Alex wanted to be a manager of a contracting business. Then we traced to my laptop where he showed me a video about a game that was coming out the next year. He noticed I still had the first rose he gave me. The one he gave me the day of our very first kiss out in the woods on school property. It was as dead now as death had ever been. He stuffed it in my face and I laughed. I could smell the pollen on it.

In my mind, my day with Alex yesterday was a memory, but in the layout of my bedroom, that day had been engrained in the walls. It was maybe the last time I'd see Alex in a while because he was starting at a new school the next day. Part of me knew the distance wouldn't be an issue for us, but part of me only hoped it wouldn't be.

I dressed in short shorts a flowery shirt that ended just before the bottom of my belly button; I borrowed it from Lynn two years ago. My bangs were pulled back with a poof on the top. I felt like I should be wearing stilettos and blowing bubbles with pink bubble gum. Then I looked at my glasses in the mirror. They had the same mixture of different greens as my eyes did. The frame was somewhat square; I didn't see now how I looked like an old librarian.

I ran down to my school. I had track tomorrow, I was getting used to the track on school campus again. For two years I dreamt of running this track from the halls inside the school. The start of junior year was when I signed up for the team so I could run the track every week. Running past the yellow football goal, I saw the bleachers that were just off to the right of the starting line. I became overcome with the memory of Alexavier at all of my track meets. Sometimes he’d stay after school and keep me entertained during practice. He and I would sit at the very top, him making me laugh about everything from girls to the economy; while April would be down at the left corner in front texting, or if Sayre had to stay afterschool for some reason, they would be sitting and laughing together.  I remembered racing. How I felt each time I was on this track. It felt like writing to me. Each step would be like someone’s story being written out in a poetic line. I had realized I picked up space. My skin was getting hot against the chilly spring air. I kept my mind on old times of Alexavier and me starting from all the way back to our first day. I realized I could write a book and title it ‘The adventures of Brigitte and Alex.’

I texted Alex before I even got out of bed at 7:06 Monday morning.

To: Alexavier

From: Brigitte

Hey, tell me how your first day is :)

            Fifteen minutes went by without a response. At 7:21 I decided to just get up. Down stairs crunching on cereal I checked my phone every thirty seconds for a reply. Then it dawned on me; Alex didn‘t have phone anymore. The phone I had texted yesterday was his mother’s phone. I probably wouldn’t get a text from him until 3:00. The whole day I went out for runs, came back inside and napped on my bed with the TV on. This was going to be a long week; a boring and lonely one. Finally, at 3:30 I got a text.

To: Bridge

From: Alex

It was Ok, a bit boring.

 

To: Alexavier

From: Brigitte

Did you make any friends?

 

To: Bridge

From: Alex

Nope.

I felt a tiny bit of sadness. I had been hoping he’d make at least one friend to let me know that he would fit in well there. I dismissed the thought and remembered it was only his first day. I texted back:

To: Alexavier

From: Brigitte

You’ll love that place in no time :)

His next text sort of surprised me. It was sweet, it made me shiver.

To: Bridge

From: Alex

If I’m not with you, I will never be happy here.

That text made me smile. But in a moment it was gone. I wanted him to be happy there. Yes, I was sad he moved, but everyone moves on right?

I replied to Alex and texted April.

To: Brigitte

From: April

I’m down at the Sweet Shop with Sayre.

Oh. Of course she’s with Sayre. My phone made a weird long buzz. I had gotten texts from Alex and April. It was April’s text that I smiled at.

To: Brigitte

From: April

You should come :)

I did. I didn’t want to interrupted their time together, but April sees Sayre a lot, and not too much of me. She hadn’t seen my brown hair in person either. I put on my running shoes and mascara, and ran 1 ½ miles to the Sweet Shop. I found them at a window seat with waffle cones in their hands. Sayre was holding up her phone screen like she was showing April a picture, and April cringed back dramatically and laughed. To my surprise, Sayre was the one who greeted me first as I approached the table. I sat down next to April. April looked down at my Doctor Who T-shirt and in a soft voice said, “Hey Bridgey.” I looked at Sayre who was looking at her phone making faces in reaction to what was on the screen. I heard a gasp from my left side. I turned and looked at April who was making a face at my hair.

“Oh, you dyed your hair!” Sayre said quite loudly. I smiled at the acknowledgement. April stroked it very hesitantly.

“It’s…” I waited for her to finish. “…Brown.” That’s all she said. I shook my head up and down dramatically.

“Yeahhhhhhh,” I said.  Sayre showed April her screen again with a picture on it. Since I was sitting next to April I was able to see it. I didn’t get it. It was a joke of some anime. But April seemed to laugh at it, so I chuckled.

 

**Aiden**

I watched her from across the room. Her brown hair was nice. She looked a lot more recognizable. I started to tell her a story of her old self, in case she’d remember. She didn’t remember, I could tell.

The rest of her story must be told

But only for her ears

The spell must break, for her homecoming.

No mercy for her fears.

14: Fourteen

I ran on the track at the school campus on a sunny Tuesday morning. I was happy to find it hadn’t rained in three days. I still had energy in my veins from practice the night before. There were only three cars on the gravel parking lot beside the field. There was a Range Rover parked in the shade that I knew I had seen before. The dried mud splashed all over the tires and the trunk door, and the gleam of the light through the tree that stood over it gave the car an adventurous look. I turned around on the track, and the second I did I remembered seeing that car during the day at school. It parked in the senior parking lot. What was it doing here where the staff usually park? What was it doing here, period?

I heard footsteps running behind me. I had it in my head that someone was chasing after me. My legs automatically picked up speed. I ran faster. My breathing started to get a little heavier and my arms ached from relentlessly swinging them back and forth. I could hardly hear the footsteps behind me because of my own and I focused on my breathing. But focusing on my breathing never helped; it always made me want to hyperventilate. My breathing got heavier as I ran faster. My mind had a wild imagination and thought someone behind me was trying to get me. My instincts to run are only natural.

I slowed down a minute to listen for the steps behind me, I didn’t hear them anymore. Maybe I had outrun whatever was behind me and I never thought to look. Part of me knew that something was here with me, I could feel it. But the rest of me felt safe enough to slow down. I slowed to a stop. I stood in one spot and tried to catch my breath.

“Brighid.” A voice came from behind me. I turned around noticing he mispronounced my name. Aiden stood before me. His burgundy hair was untamed but clean. His eyes became a bright gold as he grinned at the sight of me.

“Where did you come from?” I asked him.

“I tried to run like you do, but it got tiring. I don’t see how you could do this three times a day,” his voice sounded humorous.

How could he have found me? I pushed my glasses back up my nose and I glimpsed at the end of my hair just to make sure I didn’t go back to looking the way I did before. Aiden took a confident step towards me.

“You look scared,” he said.

I voiced my question, “How did you find me?”

“Oh, this was all so that I wouldn’t find you? Brighid, you can change how you look but you can never change your soul.” Aiden’s voice sounded different. It sounded like less confusion and more like ice. I looked into his eyes, this time they looked intimidating. I hadn’t realized I took a step back.

“Who are you calling Brighid?” my voice was softer than I had wanted it to be.

“You’re Brighid,” he stepped forward again. His voice still sounded changed.

“No, I’m Brigitte.” I matched my voice to be just as icy as his. He lifted his finger like he was about to correct me, but changed his mind about saying something.

 “Could I talk to you?” he placed his hand on my shoulder. I shook my head and took a step backwards. I remembered last time he asked me that. I remembered everything about him showing up in my car asking me to recite a poem, and in the diner when he told me about how I had promised to protect him long ago. I remembered last time we were here on this track together. He had just showed up and when I asked him who he was he finally spoke in a quiet voice

“Who are you?” he asked then.

 “Please,” he said and took a step to close the gap between us. His musty smell was so strong that it actually made me cough. I looked up into his eyes. His eyes were more yellow than gold, as if they had aged. His skin was perfect; Smooth and almost pure white. His hand looked like a ghost in contrast to my tan forearm.

“I need to tell you something,” his voice was so soft it was hardly even a whisper. He was so close I couldn’t think anymore.

“Okay,” I whispered back. I walked him back to my house. Aiden seemed to look over his shoulder every twenty seconds; I counted. My mother was at work and my brother was in his room playing video games. Since his room was just down the hall from mine and the floors sometimes creaked, I snuck Aiden upstairs and shoved him into my room. I closed the door carefully behind me.

 “So, what did you want to tell me?” I asked him. Aiden stood in the middle of the room looking left, to the floor, then up to the glow-in-the-dark stars I had glued on the ceiling. I shifted wanting to say his name, but something kept me from it. I took a breath as If I had none

“What’d you want?” I asked quickly, leaning back against the door. My anxiety was acting up. Aiden slowly turned his head back to stare at me. His eyes didn’t move from mine. His mouth was shut tight, and his eyes returned to its gold color right before mine. I look another breath and pressed myself against the door. “What did you want to tell me?”

Aiden looked behind him to the bed and sat down. He still didn’t say anything. He was waiting for me to sit down too. I sat down leaving distance between us. I laid my hands peacefully in my lap, although they were starting to sweat. Aiden’s hands were locked together in between his legs. He was looking down as if searching for a way to start.

 "A thousand years ago there was a battle,” he finally said, “Not a battle of man, no, the Gods and Goddesses were threatened at their thrones. You were attacked as the blood from your immortal brothers and daughters streamed down like a deep blue waterfall onto your mortals. Your humans wept, for they thought it was them who were being punished. How wrong I knew they were. I left my farm and battled for you. I tried to keep you safe. In return you gave me half your wisdom." He stopped and looked at me. I stared at the ground processing each word. Then he looked straight ahead and continued.

"My hands bled as they wrapped around the necks of your enemies. I strangled them from a safe distance as you lay on the ground. I did not need to turn around to know you were crying. Frightened, you were. The rain fell swiftly and tasted salty as the whole kingdom cried. I was out of reach. My arms too limp to fight.” He paused. “But I was not enough. Your enemy laid your curse upon you, and you fell down onto the earth. Lifeless. Your humans supported you in your slumber of death." Aiden's eyes looked like a projector reel. As if he were seeing it all happen again as he told this tale. I stared at his gleaming eyes listening intently catching meaning within his words. He continued.

"Your body sank into the ground but I knew you would not find yourself inside the underworld. As the responsibility of a Goddess, you do not die. I sensed your spirit travel the worlds among the living and the dead. I promised Bres that I would find you. For that he made me full immortal for my quest. But I am only immortal for as long as the quest. I have found you, haven't I? Therefore my quest will be done." Aiden spoke in the way of a very old story teller. But one thing caught my attention the most. Bres. That name sounded familiar, like I had heard it in a dream. Asking who Bres was would be my next question for Aiden. But I asked a different one instead.

"What was the curse?" But Aiden kept talking, ignoring my question.

"All people in Celtic Ireland know this story. They tell it to their children. Young children sit around the fire as they are told ‘The lost Goddess of wisdom, maker of the Irish poet, is yet to be brought home.’ While elders place flowers on your oracle, in hopes prayer to Bres and The Dagda will salvage your empty throne.” Aiden's voice sounded like he had read this out of an old story and was now reciting it to me. So many words he had said; they all jumbled up inside my brain. I couldn't process all this at once. I stared straight ahead to calm my head. I only got a headache, and Aiden sat next to me looking limp but on edge.

“Who are Bres and Dagda?” I finally asked. Aiden sighed through his nose and looked at the door.

“Bres is your husband. The Dagda is your father.”  My mouth hung open and I forgot to breathe. All I thought at the moment was: A guy named Bres is my husband? Aiden looked down at me but I couldn’t make sense of anything anymore. Words were jumbled up inside my head. I could feel my brain working like a machine to process it all.

“If only you could see your Ireland now,” he added in the silence. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine it all. I couldn’t. There was just too much. My body felt numb and shaky, but my mouth felt moist and ready to speak, though I had no words in mind. Aiden looked up and down.

“Stop,” I said as if he were still talking. He looked down at me. “Leave,” It was as if it wasn’t me speaking. My brain never formed the words, yet these demands were spilling out on their own. Aiden stood up slowly from the bed taking these orders as if he had done it before.

“Yes,” he said robotically, and he turned and walked to the window, the motion of him looked animate and slow, like a ghost who walks down the hall then disappears. Aiden did just that. Once he got to the window, he faded into the air. I wondered where he goes when he’s gone.

I sat there staring into nothing. Letting all his words sink in. My bed started vibrating and it startled me. My phone was what was vibrating, someone was calling me. Limply I picked it up and looked at the caller ID. Lynn. Lynn used to call me at the worst times with something totally irrelevant to what I was going through. Usually I pick up and accommodate her; the calls usually end with me thinking about her funny stories and not my depressing ones. But this time I couldn’t move my thumb over the screen to answer. I felt mortified from what Aiden just told me. My heart sank at the look of Lynn’s name, thinking about who I used to be. Somehow I felt there was more to come. I was going to change my name, but Aiden had found me. So, what point was there? I felt I wasn’t even given a chance to graph out a new identity.

You can change how you look but you can never change your soul.

          But maybe you can still change your personality. In the salon I had thought of having a little more attitude than everyone’s used to. My phone stopped vibrating for the second time. It then buzzed and caught my attention back to it. Lynn had texted after calling twice.

To: Brigitte

From: Lynn

Dude answer lol.

I read the text, but I didn’t respond. I didn’t know exactly what she needed me for. Honestly, I didn’t care. 

15: Fifteen

I fell asleep after two episodes of Doctor Who and a plate of chicken and brown rice. I dreamt of vines wrapping around an old marble looking pillar. Between two pillars was a hearth that left a reflection on the clean tile floor. Fire made up from nothing and lit the whole room with its bright yellow flame. The flames held words in them. I searched the fire for them.

A flame that holds secrets

That’s something to see

But you’ll never hear them

Because they belong to only me.

I looked down and noticed I was wearing a long white dress. My hair was not brown or blonde but ragged red color that hung in dreadlocks. I noticed flower peddles tangled in it as if I were just lying in a flower bed. The room was huge and had an archway that led to a hallway that looked to be just as beautiful as the marble room. There was also a pure gold desk near the arch with molding shaped like leaves but it did not have a chair in front of it.

Looking closer at the desk I could see a jeweled Chalice. In the center of the desk I could see an olive colored notebook that had a silver binding.

“My notebook,” I thought. Somehow I was able to identify it. I felt myself gliding across the floor over to the desk. In hefty bronze cursive letters stamped on the front cover were the words:

Brighid’s Notebook

            I caressed its rigid binding and thought about opening it. I wanted to see what was on the paper inside. Part of me already knew what was inside but the second I put my hand on the edge to open it, it faded away. The desk and chalice also faded away and so did the surrounding pillars and archways, and the hearth took the flame it held with it.

            Everything was dark. My flowing dress and long hair were missing too. I heard birds chirping outside and my eyes shot open. My room was quiet; the only light shined in through the tress from the sun. I hadn’t noticed before how dirty my window was. I looked at every brown stain and at first wondered where they came from. Then I tried to see something within the stains, my eyes fixated on each one carefully. But they just looked like stains.

            I got up and dragged myself downstairs. Sliding my feet across the wooden floor down the hall towards the kitchen, I heard the refrigerator door open and close. Standing in the doorway I saw my brother rummaging through the kitchen.

“Morning,” I said to make my presence known. My brother chuckled and turned around with a package of American cheese.

“Morning was two hours ago.” he said.

“What time is it?” I asked crossing my arms and squinting at a clock that was across the room. He turned around and squinted at the clock himself. I laughed thinking about how my mother could be far-sighted, but had two kids who couldn’t see something that’s twenty or more feet in front of them.

            “Ten… ‘O… six” he said trying to read it with what little vision he had.

“Where’s mom?” I leaned up against the counter of the island as he finally pried open the package.

“At work,” he said, as if I should know, which I should. I still squinted at the clock to see it better.

“What day is it?” I asked as if I was woozy. My brother stopped messing with the bag and looked up at me. His blue eyes were dumbfounded by my disorientation. I looked at him like I really didn’t know. Honestly, I don’t think I remembered. The dream that I had the night before was fading from my memory, but the feeling of being in it remained and left confusion where knowledge used to be. 

“Wednesday,” my brother said.

“Oh,” I answered and maneuvered around him to make waffles while he blabbed on about something I wasn’t even paying attention to. Throughout the day Aiden’s story stayed in the back of my mind. I kept it there. Something about it coming from his throat made me not want to forget it. But I didn’t want to stop and think about it. If I did I might start to believe it. I went out for a run and tried to think about everything else, but it kept creeping up to the front of my brain.

“How did you find me?”

“Oh, this was all so that I wouldn’t find you? Brighid you can change how you look but you can never change your soul.”

            What did my soul look like? In the midst of my second run of the day I stopped. I stopped on a vacated sidewalk, on a street where a car came every five minutes. I stopped and remembered his story. I imagined Aiden’s mouth telling it over again. I hadn’t realized I was mouthing them too as I stared at the ground.

“Your enemy laid your curse upon you, and you fell down onto the earth. Lifeless.” A flash came into my mind. A booming voice that spread a poem across the sky; I was floating along with this man who remained mysterious. This flash was a memory. I had dreamt of this: Dead bodies, limbs coated with red and blue blood.  A poem that was the last thing I remembered. This was a memory. Just a memory of a dream I had? Or a memory of something that really happened?

“As the responsibility of a Goddess, you do not die. I sensed your spirit travel the worlds among the living and the dead. I promised Bres that I would find you. For that he made me full immortal for my quest. But I am only for as long as the quest. I have found you haven't I? Therefore my quest will be done." In the middle of the sidewalk I closed my eyes and heard a car fly by.

            I felt my heart flutter and on impulse my hand went up to my chest, searched my neck and found it was bare. I remembered the necklace that my mother gave me. It was a gold necklace that looked like an Egyptian medallion; something only rich Egyptians would wear. When it was hers I would steal it and wear it on my head. I was about twelve years old. My mother used to tell me every time that I must have been a Persian princess in a past life; not knowing if we really believe in that. My memory of that and Aiden’s story somehow made sense together.

The mirror looked translucent. My mother was at work and my brother was outside, it was only me inside the house. I never noticed how dirty my bathroom looked; the mirror was foggy around the edges, the sink was coated in toothpaste, and the floor had a coating of hair, dust, and mud. The towel that hung to dry hands on had been nothing but wet for days. Right, my mother had been asking me to clean it for the past month. I’d always tell her I was too busy with school to do it, yet I rarely came home with homework. My deep brown hair curled at the ends and I noticed it brought out the brown in my normally green-yellow-brown eyes. I thought I caught a glimpse of burgundy on an under layer. It looked like Aiden’s hair. His hair ended at his cheeks and it always looked tangled. How did Aiden make me feel? I clutched the Egyptian medallion around my neck. I didn’t know. When I thought of Aiden I thought of the way he spoke. His words were always old-school. Not of this century, possibly not even of the world. His voice sounded as if he had to learn modern English just for me.

I opened my computer and looked up Brighid, Irish Goddess on Google. I found an image of a woman holding a flame. Something clicked in my mind that made me think that flame had some relevance to me. The woman had long red hair in wavy dreadlocks.  In another picture the woman was in a green flowing dress standing on the edge of a rock cliff looking out to the dusk in the sky. In this picture her hair was long and red, but as smooth looking as a stream. She stood on the edge of the rocks, her feet almost falling off the edge into the rough sea below the cliff.

She looked somber. I also found an article that gave basic information: Goddess of wisdom, birth, fire and poetry. She had three sisters all named Brighid, she was the daughter of the Dagda and wife to an unpopular king named Bres. A different article gave the same type of information with a story. A myth about how she’d stand over cribs of new born babies, and how she would light hearths with her fire and that’s how people knew of her presence. The third article I read was interesting. It said Brighid was very fair and caring to her Gaelic people, but there was one she particularly watched over. A farmer, watched over by her from birth. His parents let Brighid name their son. Brighid picked his name to be Aodhan, which in English means “Little fire” Or “Born of fire.”

The last story I read was two pages long. It was certainly the most interesting. The first page was a story about an angry immortal; in English it would be translated as Satan; threatened the Gaelic kingdom and declared a war on the Gods. It said a bloody battle broke out between all Gods and with the sky booming with screams and blue blood dripping down from the clouds humans thought they were being punished for their existence. It said humans killed themselves and killed one another to calm the gods.

On the second page it told about a mortal man who Brighid watched over and who found out about this battle, and made his way up to the clouds to fight for this kingdom of Gods. Every word in this article was like an epithet of what Aiden told me. I shivered when I read: When Brighid was hit by the beast Aedan rose and fought back. The man who had left his farm and his family fought dangerously among the Gods. He tried to save Brighid from the beasts grasp. But as she bled she fell down to earth as the Battle of the Gods also became man kinds. Brighid was shocked to see a massacre of dead bodies, and as she hit the ground, her body would be one of them. My eyes were so close to the screen I felt my eyes drying out, but I couldn’t blink. I noticed that the spelling of the name Aiden was changed in this story. I suppose there were many versions.

I kept reading, the more I read the truer it sounded. Aedan promised Brighid’s unpopular king and husband that he would find her. After her fall to earth, Brighid’s body sunk into the ground. Being a Goddess everyone knew she wouldn’t be dead. Bres granted Aedan’s loyal wish to find her. He gave him immortality for his quest. But the immortality Bres gave him would go away as soon as he brought Brighid home. Isn’t that what Aiden said? By the end of this story it sounded less of a Myth and more like a memoir of Brighid’s story. Which at this point I believed was real. Brighid may be a real lost Goddess, but how do I know if I’m the lost Goddess?