Soar Chaser

A girl lay on her back, on the grassy ground of a public yet deserted park, and marveled at the majesty of the sky. The sun illuminated her ebony skin and she beamed with contentment at the temperate and pleasant summer’s day within a blink of the eye the scene rapidly transformed into the period just before a violent rain storm. The azure sky was bleached out to an ominous grey, black and purple tone which resembled a tender bruise. The sky growled and churned the ash coloured clouds into a spiral. The girl still beamed even though the sun was blocked from sight; her skin glowed like she had trapped the sun in her body. Sharp claps of thunder echoed in the distance but the girl was not intimidated, she didn’t even flinch when the thunder began to roar; obviously the sky was displeased by her courage. The centre of the spiral cloud spat two lightning bolts; one of the struck the girl in the chest. Instead of writhing in pain, her skin glowed even more to the point where she glowed so brightly that I couldn’t bring my eyes to look at her. She was like the sun. Through squinted eyes I saw the lightning bolt retreat into a cloud and as it pulled back it pulled the girl up and into the spiral cloud. I waved at her and that’s when I realized that I had been struck by lightning, small sores festered all over my arms and as the realization dawn so did the pain of electrocution. . .

Tyson woke up gasping from his nightmare and felt a thin sheen of sweat all over his body. He rubbed his arms and found comfort in the unscathed texture of his skin. He checked his watch and found that it was too early to get ready for school but his mind was far too awake. The girl in his dream haunted him and he felt compelled to sketch her. The free-hand sketch took ten minutes to complete. Only when it was finished did he realize who he had dreamed of. The girl was Odette the new kid from some African country. The picture he had sketched showed Odette looking like a beautiful sun goddess with an unearthly intensity in her eyes. He closed his sketch book and hid it. Tyson pulled his focus out of his slight obsession and focused and remembering his drama movement piece with Nora.

Tyson walked to school preoccupied with his strange dream until he pumped into Nora.

“Hey Ty, are you ready for our drama thing?” Nora asked with great expectation in her eyes.

“Yeah, I think so.” Tyson lied because he couldn’t remember much of the movements only that Nora did most of the movement; he was just there to help her with lifts.

“Good. So yesterday I was thinking of how we could take our movement piece to the next level and put all the other groups to shame. And then the idea came to me!” They stopped walking in front of Nora’s locker. She fished threw a black plastic bag and pulled out a bundle of red material, “Matching outfits!” Nora held out a child-size, red unitard.

“No. No. No. No. No. A thousand times no.” Tyson refused.

“Oh come on, Ty! We’ll look amazing! The guy at the dancing boutique said that all male gymnasts wear this when performing. We’ll look so professional.” Nora tried to sell the idea to Nora.

“That thing is tiny and I’m 6’3! If I attempt to put that on it’ll stretch and become skin tight.” Nora blinked at him.

“Brilliant! The whole purpose of this exercise is to see the body move and our beautifully choreographed movement will be seen properly. Here,” She shoved the unitard in his hand, “go put it on before the bell rings.” Nora ran off to the bathroom to change into her artful costume. Tyson glared at the red spandex that had been bedazzled here and there.

“Hey guy.” An unenthused voice greeted him. He looked up to find Odette staring at him, “Could you please move, I need to get to my locker.” Odette asked bluntly and Tyson stumbled back and allowed her access.

“Hi Odette.” Tyson eventually forced himself to say this unfortunately he had waited too long and the words hung awkwardly in the air. She looked at him in surprise.

“You know my name. I feel bad now because I don’t know yours.” She waited for him to finally catch on.

“Oh yeah, my name is Tyson.” He extended his hand for a handshake. Odette smiled and obliged.

“I’m going to call you Sonny.” She stated, “Your turn.”

“My turn for what?” Tyson’s brain was incredibly slow all of a sudden.

She laughed, “I want you to give me a nick name.”

“Uhm ok. . .how about Det?” He suggested.

She gave him a thumbs down, “No, it sounds like debt and no one likes debt.” The bell rang and the stream of students broke off into channels and filtered into classrooms, “Looks like you have until lunch to come up with a nickname, Sonny.” She said this over her shoulder as she walked to the art class. When Tyson’s mind finally started functioning at normal speed again, he was the only one in the hallway. He sighed, swallowed his pride and went to change into his costume for drama.