Chapter 17 Rachel

Chapter 17 Rachel

I wake up to my alarm clock beeping. I turn it off and hop out of bed. It's Monday! I love the first Monday of every month although that's mostly because it means pancakes. We have pancakes at the breakfast table on a daily basis, but nothing like first Monday pancakes. My mom makes all sorts of different kinds. Berry (pretty much every type), peanut butter, chocolate chip, all sorts of different flavors. I walk down the hall and into the kitchen where, like usual, my sister and mother already are.

 "Good morning everyone!" I say cheerfully.

 "Good morning," they reply back in unison.

 I look down at the table and see the glorious array of pancakes. I quickly pull onto my plate a chocolate chocolate chip pancake and a strawberry banana pancake.  I eat them without syrup. They are so flavorful it is completely unnecessary. I eat half of each of them separate and the other halves together. I am so consumed by them that I don't even notice my brother had walked in until after I was done. When, I finally do look up, I see my mom eating raspberry and blueberry pancakes. My sister eats peanut butter chocolate chip ones. My brother’s pancakes have already disappeared from his plate.

 "Dad here?" I ask my mother.

 "He had to go in early today. I made him a pair of banana pancakes before he left though." She smiles at me.

I smile back and am oddly amused by the fact that she knew I would want to know the type of pancakes he had.

 Roquelle finally finishes her pancakes and thanks my mother before she walks off to finish getting ready. I follow suit.

I skip down the hall to my room. I take a shower and get dressed in a light green T-shirt and jean capris. I put my hair in my usual style, a high ponytail, and put on some sandals. I look at the clock and notice it’s about time to leave. I go to our entry room to wait for Roquelle.

 

On the way to school, I ask Roquelle to let me sit by the window and she says yes. I stare out it, watching the landscape speed by.

"Aah!" I hear a girl screams a few seats behind me. "Kill it! Kill it!"

The boys that sit behind us begin beating on everything, even thumping our seats a few times.

I can tell Roquelle is getting irritated, but a few seconds later they stop as a small fly crawls from their windowsill to ours. It jumps up and takes flight a little before landing repeatedly, as if trying to get out. I allow the fly to pass through the window. In that second, I think I see the window grow lighter and it looks as if perhaps I am seeing it through a haze.

I tap my sister on the shoulder. "Does this window look weird to you?" I ask her.

 She glances over at it.  She reaches over to tap on it and I panic for a second. I quickly change it back to solid and the color seems to grow darker. She knocks on the glass.

"Seems fine to me," she says and shrugs.

            I figured my eyes must be playing tricks on me and I shrug it off as well.

"Hey Rachel. Hey Roquelle," Jenna says, boarding the bus.

We both wave and I ask, "Where's Peter?"

"He's sick," she answers.

 "So are you guys a couple or what?" Roquelle questions her.

I give Roquelle a nudge and she shrugs it off.

“Nah, just friends," she replies glancing nervously down at her phone.

            Roquelle gives her a skeptical look.

I say, "Well, tell him I said feel better."

"Alright," she says absently, typing away.

 

When we finally arrive at school, I find that it's pouring.  I walk into English and find myself surrounded by many soaked people.

"I didn't even notice rain clouds this morning," I say to Jesse as I sit down.

"That's because there weren't any," she responds.

I look at her curiously.

"What?" She asks.

"Nothing," I tell her.

An announcement starts over the speakers then, "Teachers, please hold your attendance as many students are coming in late due to the rain. Thank you."

"Does that mean we don't have to start class yet?" Sarah asks from my left.

Our teacher looks down at her with a look that says, "Really?"

I laugh and we start class.

 

I get out of English and begin walking with Sarah to my next class. We don’t have the same class together next hour, but her class is on the way to mine so we walk together all the same. The rain seems to have cleared through the span of my class. The sky is now clear and blue, not a cloud in sight.

“Have a good weekend?” I ask her.

“Yeah, how about you?”

“It was good, average, completely normal,” I say nervously. I try to calm myself down a little. Besides, how on Earth would she know what’s been happening to me this weekend?

She gives me an odd look and says, “Well, this is my stopping point. Bye, Rachel.”

“Bye,” I respond, still caught up in my own thoughts.

I walk through the large crowd of students to get to class. I see many of them jumping in puddles while others skirt around the edges. I check my watch and see that I only have one minute to get there. I figure I must have been walking uncharacteristically slow because I never take this long to get to class, although it probably also has something to do with the people in different positions due to the rain. I speed up, but more people swarm around me. I just have to get around this corner of this building… People suddenly begin pouring out and I assume I must have caught the late crowd. I know that I don’t have time to wait for them and before I even know what I’m doing, I’m headed straight for the building. I phase right through the corner and emerge in a pretty much empty portion, a perfect position to get to my building.

I notice a large mob at the door and get another idea. I go to a part of the building from the outside that I’m pretty sure is just the outside of a small nook with drinking fountains in it at the end of the building with my class in it. Since my class is very near here, it will be the perfect spot. I concentrate on the building for the amount of time I remember it taking to turn passable, then I walk through it. I emerge in the small nook.  I jog to the classroom and get into the room just as the bell is ringing.

 

            The rest of my day goes smoothly, except for the oddity of the weather. There seems to be a pattern, but not a reasonable one. After every other class it is pouring and between the others it is completely clear. I walk to chemistry in clear weather again, although just before my last class it’d been pouring. When I get into class I get out a pencil and calculator, ready to take today's test. Our teacher passes it out and gives us a spiel about cheating before allowing us to start. I concentrate on every question, trying to remember what we had reviewed the day before. When I get to the calculations, although I know the equations I still double check them to the ones on the board. I finally finish and as I get up to turn in my test I realize I am the last one with a test out. I’ve always been a slow test taker, because I’ve always felt the need to think logically about every question and then double-check them when I’m done. I turn it in and walk back to my desk. With half an hour still left of class, I take out a book and begin to read.

About five minutes before class is over our tests are passed back to us, graded. My chemistry teacher seems to be my only teacher who can ever get tests back to us this quickly. I get a perfect score, unexpected but not unwelcomed. I had been very unsure about a few of my answers and am glad to see I was correct. I spend the last few minutes conversing with my friends about what they got. They all give me “of course you did” looks when I tell them about my perfect score, but congratulate me anyway. Jesse tops the rest of them with a ninety-five, and Jenna gets the worst score, a seventy-two.

“You’re gonna have to help me study next time, Rachel,” she tells me. “Even when I say I’ve got it, and even when I tell you I’m busy, you have to force me to study with you.”

“Alright,” I pledge, “I’ll help you study if I have to glue you to a chair and force your eyelids open while showing you flashcards. Whether that be on a train or on the moon or in the ocean.”

“Wouldn’t the cards get wet if we’re studying them in the ocean?” she questions me.

“Not if I laminate them.”

“Touché.”

The bell rings and we walk out together.

“You guys have any extra pancakes?” she enquires.

“Don’t we always?” I reply.

“Goody, I’m coming to your house then,” Jenna says excitedly.

“Fine with me.”
            We go to the buses and board ours. I tell Roquelle that Jenna will be coming with us.

“Cool beans,” she says.

Jenna and I laugh at the expression. We all chat for a while.

When the bus arrives at Jenna’s stop and she doesn’t get off our bus driver, Helen, asks, “You going home with the Holly’s this afternoon, Jenna?”

“Yeah,” she answers.

“She just wants to eat all our food,” I say.

Helen laughs, “That’s right; it’s Pancake Day, isn’t it?”

“It is in our house, everywhere else Pancake Day has already passed,” I say.

“March fourth this year, wasn’t it?” my sister asks.

“That’s right,” I answer. “That was one of the few times our Pancake Day has been on a Tuesday.”

            “Well, enjoy the pancakes while they last,” she says.

            “That won’t be long if I can help it,” Jenna promises, licking her lips.

            “You should taste the pancakes when they’re fresh out of the pan,” I tell her. “Fresh, warm, soft, fluffy, tasty…”

            Jenna’s stomach growls and we all laugh.

            We soon arrive at our stop and we thank Helen and get off the bus. During the walk to our house I notice it has once again stopped raining. We soon arrive inside.

            “Hey Mom,” Roquelle says as we walk into the kitchen.

            “Hello,” she greets us. Noticing Jenna with us, she says, “And welcome, Jenna.”

            “Hey Mrs. Holly.”

            “Please, welcome yourself to anything. Mi casa, su casa.” She walks out of the room.

            Roquelle immediately goes to the fridge and pulls out the leftovers. We all eat some pancakes. Jenna has chocolate chip banana.

            Jenna and I do our homework together and she leaves, a few hours after having arrived. My mom offers her a ride, but Jenna declines and her mother comes to pick her up. I shuffle around the house, bored. I finally submit and lay on the couch in the entry room, watching the waves of the ocean. My mother comes in then and notices me lying on the couch.

            “Bored?” she asks me.

            “Yeah,” I respond, still just staring up at the ceiling.

            I look over at her then and observe she’s carrying a box.

            She notices me staring at it and says, “This is just some old stuff. You could go put it in the shed for me. It’d give you something to do.”

            I jump up at the suggestion, grabbing the box. “I’d be glad to.”

            I rush out of the house and make my way to the shed. The shed is basically just a small shack, unattached to our house, where we keep things like surfboards and any old junk that we don’t know what to do with. I go inside and find a place for the box.

            Just as I’m about to leave, something catches my eye. I look over and notice a surfboard that wasn’t there before. An orange one with a yellow stripe running the length. I walk over to it, and find myself almost entranced by it. As I come closer I see a small tag attached to it. It says my name on it in a calligraphic fashion. As I grab it, it disappears in my fingers. I pick up the board and find myself walking out of the shed with it. I’m in the ocean before I even realize what I’m doing.

            I surf. The waves grow large. At some point it again starts raining, pouring. I soon become aware that I’m still in my clothes. But I don’t stop. I figure at some point it must be a dream because there is no way these waves could be real. No way could this board be. I must have fallen asleep on that couch in the entry room. No, I must be in a coma from my wipeout. None of this has been real. But it feels real. In my heart I know that it is, but my mind still resists it.

            Suddenly, a huge wave comes barreling toward me. In an instant it crashes over me. When I again resurface the sky is clear and the rain has stopped. The ocean goes still. I look over and see that the wave broke the orange board. I cling to the part that is still attached to my leg and float with it, afraid to trust swimming to keep me afloat as I am in much deeper water than I usually surf in. I stare curiously at the broken off piece of board and it begins to move toward me. Slowly at first, then faster it comes. When it gets to the other piece it floats right next to it, the cracks in them lining up, then the two pieces fuse together.

            At that moment, the sky begins to pour down again, the clouds back and the waves come crashing down loudly and quickly. I cling to the board, but it appears to be going down rather than up, propelling me further into the sea. I try and fail to let go, and it drags me further.

 

            I relax my muscles, my hands still in a position to cling to the surfboard, my hair and clothes still drenched. But I am no longer in the ocean, as I was a second ago. I open my eyes, which had been squeezed tightly shut. I am in a small gray room. Grey ceiling, gray floor, grey walls. There are doors. Two on each side. Each one is brown, wooden. I am crouched in one corner of this room, and I stand up. I look in the corner opposite me. Another girl is standing there.