Prolouge

 

You know that feeling, right before your about to go to start something new? That sense of overwhelming greatness, of unseen potential just waiting to be unleashed into the world. Your potential. Even though you know nothing will likely come of it, you can’t help but get excited at the prospect of new opportunities, at all the things just waiting for you to make your move on. The world is bowing at your feet, and it’s all up to you. At sixteen years old, that feeling seems to be more common than not. In the small town of Clinton, New York, a young girl had that exact sensation before the first day of her sophomore year of high school. She sat in her soft flannel pajamas, staring at herself in the mirror. She knew something was different about herself; she just couldn’t quite place what it was. She looked at her eyes, blue, just as they always had been. She took her hair in her hands; it was just as dark brown as it had been yesterday. She was still as pale as her sister, her mother, and likely every woman in her family. What was it then that was making her feel this way? She put her chin on her hand and gave a sigh. She pulled out the old hairbrush from the side draw and ran it though her hair a few times, ridding it of the few knots that managed to work their way in. When she was finished, she placed the brush back into its drawer and took a final look at herself. Whatever it was, it felt nice. It was nice to be confident, for once, so she didn’t have to fake it. She walked over to her bed and dove into its new, clean sheets. She had eight hours until she had to wake up and start the new school year.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

September 7

 

            Layla opened her eyes to the sound of her cell phone alarm vibrating on her night stand. Groggily, she managed to untangle one of her arms from the sheets and reached over and felt for the contraption. She hit one of the side buttons to silence the noised. She lifted her head a bit and pushed the hair from her eyes so she could see the time. 6:00 A.M. Lovely. She put the phone back onto the table, and clasped her hand over her eyes. She tried to get feeling to the other parts of her body by wiggling around a little, first her fingers, then her toes. Realizing she was laying on her other arm, Layla rolled over and tried to pry it free from under her. She scratched her nose and then ran her fingers through her messy hair. She wedged her two hands underneath herself and tried to push herself up, but to no avail. Layla then rolled over onto her stomach and managed to get herself upright. She swung her legs over the side of her bed and felt around for her slippers. When each foot was comfortably seated in their respective shoe, she stood up wobbly. After steadying herself, she began to walk out of her room and into the bathroom, tripping over her backpack.

            She flicked on the lights, at first forgetting how bright they were, and shielded her eyes. As she pulled back the shower curtain, she reached down and turned the two metal knobs, starting the stream of water to fall from the faucet. She placed her hand under the running water to feel for its temperature. When she was satisfied, she twisted the idle knob with a high pitched squeak, and the water switched to the showerhead. She drew the curtain closed, and got ready to shower.

 

*          *          *          *

 

            “Ralph, its time to get up hunny.” Called a motherly voice from downstairs. Ralph grumbled and stirred in his sheets a bit. He opened his eyes to the sight of the early morning sun peering through his blinds. How he didn’t want to start the new school year, nothing ever changed. It was never going to get any better. She wasn’t going to notice him. Ralph rolled over onto his bare stomach and pulled the sheets farther over his head. He tried to push himself back into sleep, when a thought came to his mind. Maybe things would be different. Why shouldn’t they be? He sprang up in bed, excited by the prospects this new year could hold for him. Get got out of bed and open the blinds father, looking out onto the busy street in front of his house.

            He saw the paper boy completing his route, and husbands being wished off to work by their wives. He heard the quiet songs of the birds on the nearby tree, and he thought to himself. It all seemed so perfect, more so then it had yesterday. He unlocked and threw open his window, taking in a deep breath of morning air. It had hat familiar scent of a late summer morning. A little wet from the night’s rain, and holding promise of a hot day to come. He closed his eyes and let his sense draw in all they could from everything around him. His would be the day. Things were going to change for the better. He could feel it. A warm smile came to his face. The soft breeze from the open window tickled his torso. He scratched his chest lazily, and pushed both arms above his head for a long, hard, stretch. He then turned to face his room, and started off for his dresser, but not without first getting his toe caught in his pajama bottoms, and falling to the ground. Maybe it wasn’t going to be so different after all.

*          *          *          *

 

            Emily sat at her kitchen table, sipping her tea softly. She reached in front of her to turn the page of the morning paper. The sound of pitter patter of slippered feet making their way down the carpeted stairs caused her to look up at the clock on the oven. 6:30 A.M. She was already dressed, showered, and fed, yet still somehow managed to her an hour to kill before she needed to be at school. Her mother emerged from the landing of the stairs in her green, Terri-cloth bathrobe, her hair this way and that, and her eyes squinting.

            “Emily? Is that you?” She said groggily, trying to shield her eyes from the brightness of the florescent lights while still trying to get a better look at the person at the table.

            “Yeah mom, it’s me. Who else would it be?” She replied, smiling at how silly her mother looked.

            “What are you doing up already?” She said, leaning against the doorframe to keep from falling over.

            “I don’t know, I was just awake I guess.” Emily said as she stood and started folding the paper.

            “And you’re dressed. Gosh, since when are you so efficient?” Her mother said, slightly thrown off. She stepped down onto the linoleum floor and made her way over to the stove. She was about to start re-filling the kettle when Emily appeared beside her.

            “Already made you a cup mom.” She said, holding the steaming mug out to her mother.

            “What did I do to deserve a daughter like you?” She said as she took the mug into her own hands and kissed Emily’s forehead.

            “You’re just glad you don’t have to boil your own water.” Emily replied sarcastically and with a smile. Her mother smiled back gratefully. She was on her way up the stairs when she heard her mother’s voice again.

            “Oh, Hun, would you mind getting Jamie ready for me? She’s got her first day too, and I have to bring her in, so I have too look put together too. I don’t know if I would be able to handle dressing us bother. It’s no trouble, is it Em?”

            Emily stopped where she stood on the stairs and took a deep breath. “Sure mom, it’s no problem.”

            “You’re an angel, thank-you.”

Emily started back up the stairs; perhaps stepping a little harder than necessary, but it was all she could do to channel her frustration. She reached the top of the stairs and madder her way to her sister’s room. Carefully she twisted the doorknob, trying not to let it squeak. With a slight bump of her hip, the door unstuck itself with a light crack. Emily stuck her head around the door, expecting to see her little sister all snuggled up in her bed. She looked around at the mess in her sister room in distress. Clothes were thrown everywhere. Shirt’s dangling from her little chair, pants on the floor and little socks strewn everywhere. One even managed to work its way up onto the ceiling fan. And the culprit of this crime scene stood guilty in the center of it all. One leg in her pants, and two mismatched socks hallway on each foot. A white Mickey Mouse turtle neck was stuck over head and held her arms hostage in it.

            “Jamie, what did you do?” Emily said, accusingly.

            “I’m dressing myself today. I’m a big girl.” Replied a muffled voice from inside the shirt.

            “Lovely.” Emily said, as she walked into the room and knelt before her sister. She pulled on the little shirt to reveal a happy, smiling face. Emily smiled back at her best friend.