Vessel

This is the second chapter

 

Vessel

J.C. and I crossed the street to my silver Lexus. I unlocked the car, slid behind the wheel while heaving my backpack behind me, and started the ignition. I tuned my head to see what he was doing, and he was frowning. I had no idea how he could be mad at me so quickly, when he looked pointedly at my seat belt.

“Oh,” I muttered sheepishly. He, of course, already had his buckled and was ready to go.

“You don’t really need that, do you?” He grinned.

“No, but it is against the law to ride without it; and it could help to save your life. So wearing it is beneficial to your health.” I grimaced as I pulled the hard strap across my chest. J.C. smiled at the furrow between my brows.

I turned around the corner, and pushed the accelerator. J.C. was looking at me thoughtfully. He glanced meaningfully at the speedometer and I looked right back at him. “I’m only five miles over.”

“I’m not condoning it, but it is your car,” he said. I rolled my eyes and brought the speed down to thirty-two.

“Better?” He held my gaze steadily as I finally brought it down to thirty.

“I can’t believe I’m driving the speed limit,” I grumbled, changing into the slower lane. J.C. cracked a smile.

“It’s for your own good. You never know what could happen.”

We were silent after that. After a little bit, we reached the house. Because of my slow driving, we had gotten there late and dinner was over. The vacant dining room oozed silence, but Mozart’s Fantasia in D Minor still permeated the air from the living room.

“Vasili?” I called.

“He’s not home. He went out to meet some friends,” Gen told me. She walked into the room and settled formally onto a chair.

“Oh, that’s nice. I just wanted to let you all know that I brought a friend home. I didn’t want to disturb anyone.”

“What friend?” Gen asked. Her eyes darted around my proximity as if she didn’t see anyone.

“The guy standing right—here.” I turned and J.C. was standing exactly where I had left him. My brow furrowed. “Really Gen, he’s right here,” I said. The music stopped.

“Still playing with those imaginary friends?” Emmy asked as she pirouetted into the room. She came to stand behind Gen’s shoulders. The room immediately took on a sinister air. Her feline eyes lit up as she searched the area around me. Gen didn’t say a word, and my body temperature lowered several degrees.

“I’ll be upstairs. Tell Vasili to text, call, or something.”

“How about no.” Emmy smiled.

“I’ll tell him,” Gen said.  “Knowing Vasili, he’ll probably text.”

 “Thanks.” I infused my voice with as much gratitude as I could muster. I could feel Emmy’s eyes boring into my back as I headed upstairs.  

“Why couldn’t they see you?” I demanded in a low whisper. “I’m not crazy.” We started to walk upstairs to my room in the attic.

“Vessel, remember? It’s not time for the Second Coming, so people can’t see me because of that. You are the only one who sees me because you’re the only one who’s supposed to, dear.” I almost frowned as I burst through the door and put my backpack on the floor.

“You could’ve mentioned that before. So when is the Second Coming?” I lay sprawled on my bed. J.C. followed me slowly and seated himself more conventionally on the floor.

“You aren’t supposed to know,” he explained, taking in my obstinate expression with a measured glance. “Stasi, not even the angels know. No one is supposed to know the day or the hour.”

“Your future wife doesn’t even get to know when you’re coming back, that’s original. Are you going to stay?”

“Only in the spirit,” he said, ignoring the last jibe.

“Why not otherwise?” I searched his eyes for an answer—I hadn’t the slightest idea what he meant by staying in the spirit. 

“Why can’t you stay for the rest of the time?”

“I’m a vessel,” J.C. said. “That’s how I was able to come back in this form, before the Second Coming. I wasn’t born again as a human, and I haven’t come to take everyone back home yet. So I’m really God in spirit, just not in body.”

I stared at him, trying to absorb it all. A vessel really didn’t make any sense. If there were loopholes in the Bible that we hadn’t heard about yet, that couldn’t be good. Anyone could come back or we could have the plagues of Egypt again if God got angry.

“We have decided to take a more passive approach to the world’s transgressions.” He conjectured my thoughts solemnly. “Everything will be recorded in books so that everyone can be judged at the end of the world.”

“Those are going to be some pretty thick books,” I noted wryly.

“Yes and they are definitely a way to be more efficient while adequately punishing people. Smiting people just doesn’t seem to cut it anymore.”

“Oh really?”

“No, not when people repeatedly refuse to listen. Then the punishments are entitled to be changed,” he said.  

“Are there levels of heaven, according to how badly you sin in your life?” I quickly changed the subject. He looked so sad when he talked about punishments.

“Why should there be levels? All the sins are the same in the eyes of God, so why should there be different levels of bliss for people? There cannot be different levels of perfection. Heaven is only one level, per say, if you can even encompass it into one level,” he informed me. His eyes were warm, processing my reactions as he leaned on the edge of the bed. I didn’t want to be too trusting, or too hasty in simply just believing.

“Why should I believe you?” I asked in suspicion.

J.C. looked at me sternly. “There are no loopholes in the Bible. You of all people should know that everything is possible with God. I said that no one would know the day or the hour that I come back and no one will know or understand my ways. I work mysteriously. Trust me.” He winked.

I looked at him warily, still skeptical of the whole vessel idea.

“Okay, I guess you win that one.”

“It’s not a matter of winning. It’s about helping you to be ready. You see me standing here right in front of you and you still don’t believe.”

“How can I? In a world where there is so much doubt, it is hard to just trust a person without some sort of proof. You said so yourself that many false prophets were going to come and try to impersonate you,” I said. “How do I know that you’re not one of them?”

His face grew dark, as if it were a turbulent storm. The dark brows drew together, making a deep wave like indentation, and his expression was piercing. I carefully moved away from him and started to scoot to the other side of the bed.

“You show them all of the signs, and still they want more proof,” he muttered to himself. “You want proof? Here is your proof.”

J.C. levitated four inches off of the ground and spun faster than anything I’d ever imagined. His chocolate eyes seemed to ignite, beaming out rays of pure, sparkling light. Illuminated by a radiant glow, his light penetrated every part of the room. My eyes squinted until they were closed and I could barely see because of the brilliance. When he stopped spinning, the light and everything in the room was blisteringly white. It was as if I was experiencing the transfiguration. J.C. circled me, still floating around in the air.

“Are there any more questions?”

I shook my head, my throat too constricted for words. My eyes bugged out of my head. If there was one thing I had learned from reading the Bible, it was not to push God. J.C. lightly landed on the floor and sighed.

“I didn’t want to do that, but I had to make you understand,” he said, sitting down next to me. I had to control the urge to get up and run to the other corner of the room.

“Why not stay that way all of the time? The best way to reach more people would be showing yourself to them like that,” I said. “Haven’t you ever heard of networking or something?” 

“I want people to believe with their own free will.” J.C. seated himself on the floor again. “It wouldn’t be gratifying to God if everyone followed him like zombies. He wants you to have the ability to choose for yourself whether or not you want to believe. The more people who choose to believe in him, the greater the victory. So do you trust me now, Stasi?”

His eyes transfixed me, knowing the answer before I opened my mouth.

“But I’ll still have questions,” I said.

“Questions are healthy for your faith. They show that you aren’t just blindly following something, and they provide you with answers so that you will have the ability to answer the questions of others.”

I shifted on the bed and eyed him. Out of all the questions, I wanted to pick the most trivial one, and he knew it.

“Go ahead,” he chuckled. “Don’t be afraid, I am not going to hurt you.”

I was not placated. As I looked at him, my eyes widened and my breath started to come faster until I was practically hyperventilating.

 “Look at me Stasi,” J.C. said. He took my chin and gently raised it so that I could see his face. One glance into his scorching toffee eyes and I instantly relaxed.

“Do not be afraid,” he whispered. He faded completely, yet I could still feel the pressure of his hand and the warmth of his breath.

“I’ll be here,” he reassured me again, as he left me sitting shell-shocked on my bed. A persistent knocking on my door snapped me out of my reverie. Only Vasili knocked like that.

“Come in,” I said.

“You wanted to see me?” His deep voice rumbled as he ambled over to a chair and sat stiffly. He looked around in confusion

. “Were you just talking with someone on the phone?” I shook my head; his hearing was too good.

“No. I wanted to talk to you before you went back to USC.”

“I don’t return for another week, Stasi.” His eyes closely examined me. “What is bothering you?”

I dropped my eyes and studied the flowered pattern on my coverlet. He awaited my answer patiently, his caramel expression somber.

“It’s just that I have missed you a lot. It will be pretty dull without you,” I said. His expression took on a knowing look. It wasn’t easy for us to express emotions.

Vasili’s eyes softened as he took in my dispirited tone. He glided over to the bed and lightly brushed my shoulder.

“It will be all right,” he said. “It always is. We cannot allow weakness or fear to overcome us. Control yourself.”

 I straightened my spine and raised my eyes to his. His eyes had hardened after his lapse in actually displaying human affection. No more sympathy would come from Vasili tonight. I put the invisible book on my head and nodded amicably to him.

“Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to see me, Vasili.” He nodded in return.

“I have to leave you now. I have some work to do, so I’ll be in my room if you should have need of anything.”

“No, I believe that will be all.”

“Good night then, Anastasia,” he said, closing my door.

“Good night, Vasili.”

I wasn’t really hungry enough to go get myself something to eat from downstairs, so I decided to forget about dinner. The only homework that I had was a composition paper on The Scarlet Letter by Hawthorne. It wasn’t due until Thursday, so I decided to make an outline. By the time I was finished with that, I was exhausted. I wearily went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and take a shower before bed. The warm water massaged my muscles and relaxed me even further. As I pulled on my angel-patterned pajamas, I thought about how surreal the day had been. Maybe I had dreamed it all. I wouldn’t put it past myself, I thought wryly, as I shut off the lights, slid into bed, and immediately slipped into unconsciousness.    

 

 “You know, sometimes it’s really hard to understand you,” I told J.C. irritably the next week. He was getting on my nerves with all of the wife talk. It wasn’t like I had even planned to get married at this age, or that I was ready to accept a destiny as the wife of the most powerful being of my existence.

“I don’t expect you to,” he said, unaffected by my disgruntlement. He sat down on the bed. His honey brown hair looked a shade darker than usual, but his expression was patient. 

“I mean, you know everything: past, present, and future, but come on.”

“Time affects you differently than it does me.”

“How so?”

“A thousand years is only like a day to me,” he explained.

“Time must have seemed really fast to you when you were human,” I said.

“It depends on how you look at it. Just be ready when I come back.” He grinned.

“All right.” Then he closed his eyes and was still as stone, as if he was in a trance. As I watched him, an errant thought popped into my head. If I was going to get married, I wasn’t about to do it without love. I wasn’t even sure I knew what love was, but I did know that Casimir and Delilah only had a silly relationship; not even remotely close to love. That thought made me feel less crabby. J.C. watched my expression with interest.

 “J.C. tell me about love, since we are getting married and I should probably know,” I said, kicking at my backpack. “Why is it so confusing?”

“Guy problems?” he asked, opening his eyes and reaching over to tweak my ear.

“Or lack thereof,” I retorted, scooting out of his reach. He chuckled.

“Cheating on me already?”

“Um, according to you, this is a spiritual relationship. Isn’t that how this works?”

“Yes, you are allowed to have earthly relationships. But don’t forget that I come first. No one can fit you as perfectly as I do.” His eyes bored into me, and I looked away, and had to steady myself.

“Okay, J.C. it’s time for you to divulge the huge mystery—break it down for me.”

“Most people find it confusing—you’re not the only one to ask. Trillions of people around the world ask me that same question every day. It is one of the most intriguing questions of your existence.”

“But why?” I methodically pinched one of my pillows. J.C. smiled at the question, and then his expression turned ambivalent.  

“Loving someone is making yourself vulnerable. You give the other person the ability to hurt you. Love is unselfish and does more for people than you would have for yourself. There are three things: faith, hope, and love. The greatest of these is love because God Himself sets an example in how to love. And when the other two are gone, love remains because it is everlasting.”

I thought about this while balancing a pencil on my pinkie.

“Is that similar to you letting Jerusalem crucify you?” I asked, disrupting the pencil’s balance by waving my hand. “How am I supposed to love like that—unconditionally?”

J.C. never grew impatient when I didn’t understand or it seemed like I was hopeless.

 “You are not perfect, and I know that. But you have a job to do. With your love for others, you can help to make a difference. Let your light shine before men, that they may see your good works and praise your Father in heaven,” he said. “Your light is here, and your time is now.”

“The greatest, purest love comes from you,” I said, watching the light that started to leak from both of our chests as he was talking. He was pleased that I was finally getting it.

“Yes, and I need you to give it to those who have no love in their life—who have no hope.”

 “So how do we know the right way to give answers to people who have no hope?” I asked

“You have to know that yourself. There is a right way according to each person, and it is your task to find it.” He pointed to the Bible sitting on my lap.

“This has a wealth of knowledge just waiting for you to use,” he said, picking it up and sifting through the endless silver pages.

“So everything comes back to the Bible.” I was starting to get frustrated with the lack of feedback and instructions to just “go to the Bible.”

“Listen to what I’m trying to say to you.” He had said it quietly, but I immediately shut my mouth. I took the Bible half-heartedly from his hands, and turned through it.

“I can talk to you in many ways, but a lot of what you wish to know is in here.” He gestured to the gleaming Bible. “What do you want most?”

“Too difficult to answer—I want lots of things,” I answered, rolling my eyes.

“Don’t you notice that when you do what you want most and it is not in accordance with God’s will it mostly goes wrong?” He raised an eyebrow, daring me to protest. Okay, so maybe it does always go wrong. Does that have to mean that absolutely everything in my life is governed by God’s will? Every little act of kindness, every act of malice, and every inadvertent action is a will of God?

J.C. was scanning my face for reactions. “Yes,” he said, answering my thoughts.

“So basically, I want most what God’s will is for me.” I traced the patterns on the Bible, and looked up at him gravely. This was such a blatant example of reverse psychology that it wasn’t even funny.

“Basically. With that in mind, you can never go wrong.” He tilted his head to the side and surveyed me thoughtfully.

“Stasi, being negative never changed anything and wallowing in self-pity is fruitless. Be thankful that you have all that you need. Need, not want,” he joked, coming nearer to me. “Being a Christian is about sharing God’s love with other people. What would your first impression of a Christian be if they were rude and crabby to you?”

I nodded, seeing the point, but I could tell that he wasn’t done lecturing me.

“This also has to start within your own family.”

I looked away from him, not able to meet his eyes as I thought about my family. There was no way that Emmy and I were patching anything up soon. Vasili would be home for a short visit for an interview tomorrow, but each day that he was at college, he grew further away.

Vasili was the most promising because he was the oldest and a boy. Emmy was the most promising girl because she was the most glacial person in our family, and better than me at the things that Mother considered fitting for a young lady. And with Gen, well Mother figured that she could be turned. She still had years to form and shape her, which was what I was afraid of.

J.C. looked at me strangely. “You need to find a way to reach them, Stasi.”

“That is out of the question.”

“Why is it? You’re the most logical choice because you’re the closest. Of course I’m using the word close quite loosely.”           

“Very loosely,” I agreed, almost glaring at him. He looked back at me innocently.

“Well since you insist on ignoring the matter. . .”

“Thank you.” He shook his head.

“One last thing though Stasi, I’m serious when I say that it all comes down to you,” he said, “whether you like it or not.“ He saw that I still wasn’t taking the bait, abruptly stood, and faded away from me without another word.

Almost simultaneously, a knock sounded at the door.

“Anastasia?” It was Dad.

“Come in,” I called, crossing my legs. He came into the room, almost hitting his head on the doorframe. He stared at me with a puzzled expression.

“You have to get dressed. You’re not going to the recital in that are you?” He surveyed my school clothes while I looked confused. What recital was he talking about? Oh, Emmy’s annual boring ballet recital—the one that everyone had to be dragged to every year to fawn over how wonderful and graceful she was. It was sickening how much of an attention seeker she was, always parading herself around and begging to be noticed. I’m sure as the star ballerina she had more than enough, but somehow that never seemed to satisfy her.

Dad was still standing in the middle of my room, looking at me.

“Of course not, Dad; I wouldn’t dream of it.” I got off of the bed and sauntered over to my closet.

“Good. Gen has soccer practice and your mother is on another business trip.” He came over next to me, peeking into the closet. I was still musing about the fact that I was the only available person to drive. Well, I thought to myself, and then there was one—the lucky person to accompany Dad to the cotillion afterwards.

“Where?” I stood perusing my array of formal wear.

“Somewhere in South America—I think she said Venezuela. It might have been Argentina, I’m not sure.” In the black section of the closet, I selected a medium length, sleeveless black dress with a large black rose covering right shoulder.

“Will this do? I mean black goes with everything.” I held it up for inspection. His eyes crinkled up at the corners as he smiled.

“Indeed it does—excellent,” he said. “I trust you have shoes.” His hand came up to stroke his chin thoughtfully as I held up a pair of heels with a set of black and silver jewelry.

“Well, we won’t get into the specifics—your mother taught you how to dress yourself well.” He walked beside me as I deposited the articles neatly onto the bed.

“Car situation?” I straightened up and faced him. His bottom lip poked out as he mused.

“You’re going to need to pick up Gen, so we’re better off taking two. I have a meeting,” he added at my expression.

“Sounds great. I’ll meet you at the studio in a little while. Emmy is there already,” I said.

“Yes of course.” He laughed. “Think of the mess we’d be experiencing if she weren’t.” His eyes were still warm as he reached over to tousle my hair.

“Dad, stop it!”

“What? You’re going to have to fix it up anyway.” He retracted his arm as if he were stopping, and then put it out again, mussing my hair.

“Ugh.” I glared up into his twinkling eyes. “Okay, when you end up with a comb, brush, and oil in your hands; don’t complain. You’ve been warned.”

“Absolutely not. That’s the reason I pay for it to get done. How is Ms. Faye by the way?”

“She is doing well and says to tell you to relax.” I relaxed my glare as he chuckled.

“Good for her. I’d better let you get dressed then.” He walked out and shut the door behind him. I turned to the bed to pull everything on.

 

Emmy and Dustin received best pair, of course, and Emmy also received Best Pointe Ballerina. At the reception, she was showered with adoration. I sat rigidly, morosely poking my food and nibbling small amounts. My face was formed into a classic smile and aimed at anyone within the proximity of three seats. Dad looked at me, and bent down to whisper in my ear.

“Cheer up, dear.” He paused and looked around before his eyes rested on the front of the stage.

“Look, the dancers are coming,” he said.

I turned slightly in my seat and recognized a few of Emmy’s company. A lot of the dancers had some extravagant hairstyles. Kaya had the most abundant shiny tresses and Taisho did her own hair, but it still looked exquisite. Sophia, a beautiful little Grecian and Emmy’s tutor, outshone them all to me.

The dancers came out in the little space that had been cleared for them. They were wearing lovely misty costumes that settled on their lithe bodies. Sprightly, willowy forms flitted across the improvised stage in the growing light. Shades of color flashed as ballerinas made whirlwinds around their tall partners. They all bent one slender porcelain leg forward as the other remained on the ground. Twirling around at least four times, they fell safely into their partner’s arms.

The partners raised the ballerinas high and swept them around so that when the audience looked up, they could see the light becoming different colors through the tutus while it glinted off of them. Both twirled, but then the partners stepped in as the ballerinas leaped and wrapped one leg around their waists. The partners turned as the ballerinas twisted so that their back was to the partner and one arm was outstretched in a statuesque motion to the audience. They seemed to entreat us, wanting us to free them from their siren dance.

The partners swept the ballerinas onto the floor and placed their hands behind the ballerina’s neck. Emmy was in the front, the star of course, even looking the part in a shimmering silver leotard. Her short hair swirled as her eyes closed and her reddened lips parted as Dustin leaned over her. Then she put her right hand over her head, moved her wrist in a fluid motion, and opened her eyes as the music ended. Dustin removed his hand from her hip and hoisted her upright. All of the ballerinas rose, placed their Pointe shoes in a formation, and bowed.

As the applause died down, I decided to leave. I still had some Trig homework to do and I had to pick Gen up from soccer practice. I also didn’t want to be there when Emmy came out from the dressing rooms. I bent towards Dad’s ear to inform him.

 “I have to pick up Gen,” I whispered, reminding him. He didn’t look pleased; knowing that it wasn’t close even close to the time to pick her up, but nodded his assent. I slipped through the grandiose back doors, traveled down a fairly lit corridor, and exited into the growing half light. I hopped into the car, being careful not to damage the dress, and drove.

I actually still had about a half-hour before I had to pick Gen up. The soccer field that she was currently playing at was by Jason’s house, so I decided to pay him a quick visit. I sped to his house and let myself in, knowing that the door would be open. His mom was just passing the door, and came back, doing a double take.

“Oh hello Stasi, you look lovely. Jason is upstairs.”

“Thanks Mrs. Goodman,” I said and hurried up the stairs

“But dear, he’s in the shower,” she called up after me. I went through the open door to his slightly messy room and perched on his twin bed. His spacious room was painted a dark blue, and clothes were discarded here and there. I gingerly moved a pair of dirty socks with the toe of my shoe while I glanced at his dresser. He had an enormous stereo system, his iPod, watch, comb, and little else.

I didn’t have long to wait. Jason came bumbling into the room, wrapped in a towel and muttering curses. He stood stock still when he caught sight of me.

“Hey Jason.”

“Stace, couldn’t you call first or something?” he asked, wrapping the towel tighter around himself.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, it wouldn’t have done you much good anyway.” I gestured to the phone on the dresser.

“Mom could have told me that you tried to call.”

“I didn’t want to disturb her. I’ll let you get dressed.” I slid off of the bed and pranced out of the room. I heard the lock turn as soon as the door shut behind me, and resisted the urge to grin. He was such a baby.

As I stood admiring a family portrait, Mr. Goodman came into the hallway.

“Anastasia, what a nice surprise,” he said, detouring from his gauntlet path. “Where is Jason?”

“Dressing,” I said with a grin. “How are you doing?”

“Not bad, not bad at all; and yourself? Tell me how you’ve been.” He leaned forward slightly to hear me better.

“I’ve been pretty well, thank you.”

“Wonderful. I hear that you are advancing to the national competition this year. I believe congratulations are in order.” He extended a hand and I shook it firmly.

“I would never be able to be half the dancer that I am without the support of your son,” I said, eyelids lowered.As if on cue, Jason stepped out of his room, fully dressed.

“Hello Dad.”

“Jason, I was just talking to Anastasia about her upcoming competition.” He nodded his head toward me, and then looked at the two of us. “I’m sorry, are you two doing something?” He smiled in apology.

“Oh, I just popped by for a quick visit. I don’t get to see Jason as often as I would like.” I grinned.

“Stasi almost caught me at a bad time,” Jason said.

“Timing is everything.” Mr. Goodman shrugged. “Don’t let me keep you two from your visit. Maybe I’ll hear about your dance another time.” He inclined his head and walked down the staircase to the living room. Jason watched him go and then turned to face me.

“I’m assuming this is about class yesterday?”

“What else would it be about?” His eyes flickered away from mine, and then back again. I couldn’t believe that he had tried to give me a disgusting analogy for a chemistry problem. He had to have known that I wouldn’t have liked it.

“That analogy was hardly appropriate, now that I think about it,” I said. Jason’s mouth twisted a little, and I realized that he was struggling to keep from laughing. My eyes narrowed, and he took one look at my expression and opened the door to his room.

“Perhaps somewhere a little more private,” he suggested.

I stalked into his room and sat on a chair this time while Jason sat on the bed. His purple gaze measured me, taking in my indignant eyes before he decided to speak.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he said, amusement still in his voice.

“Really J, it did make things rather awkward.”

“It was the only way that I thought it would finally click for you.”

“And why would you think that? Thank you for your efforts, but I’ll manage better solo next time,” I told him in disgust, crossing my legs.

“Okay, that’s cool. Are we straight?” For a split second, he almost looked worried.

“Yes, we’re good.” I decided to let him off the hook.

“Now tell me the other reason for this impromptu visit. You could have just spouted your displeasure with a phone call.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Gen’s soccer practice is nearby and I decided to pop in,” I said.

“Next time, please call first.” He grinned as I looked at him.

“Sure, I’ll remember that the next time you decide to take a long shower.”

“It was only five minutes,” he muttered.

“Have you turned in all of your student fees?” I asked, glancing at his desk and noticing various sheets of paper with the infamous Wolf insignia.

“Don’t remind me.” He groaned.

“You know that the due dates are coming up.”

“I still have to pay the fees, much less do community service.”

“J, those were due last month!”

“I know,” he said, looking through the stack of papers.

“I can’t believe you didn’t get them in.” He shoved the papers back on the desk in defeat.

“Do you think Mr. Laurence will let me turn them in late?” He asked.

“Maybe, but I don’t know about this one J.”

Mr. Laurence was the primary junior guidance counselor at Wolf. He was responsible for everything that dealt with getting us ready for college. Scheduling classes, Assessments, Honors classes, Community Service, and study booklets, college prep, and college portfolios were all under his domain. Mr. Laurence was a drill sergeant when it came to due dates.
            “Damn it.” Jason started rifling through the papers again and frantically checking the dates and making sure that everything that could be in order, was.

“I know it’s insane, but we’re going to make it.” I tried to say it in encouragement, but he shrugged and walked over to the window. I searched for something else to say as he sighed.

 “Yeah sure, we’re going to struggle to get a diploma that we’ll never see after senior year,” he told me.

“But we can’t think about that right now. All we can do is hope that someday it all meant something.” My Aunt Lacey told me that they didn’t give you a real diploma at graduation anyway. I walked over to the window and looked at the gray clouds in silence until he finally spoke.

“Sure, there’s an upside.” Jason snorted, not comforted even at the prospect of a prestigious Wolf diploma.

“There always is one,” I said. He sighed again, and we both looked out of the window at the gray clouds in silence, trying to remember better, uncomplicated, and paperwork-free times.

Reviews

[perfectlymetiKulous]

You're a beautiful writer. I love the formality with which your characters speak to each other; something that definitely falls by the wayside in today's writing. I'm intrigued by the premise, can't wait to read more.