Chapter 3: Disappear
His eyes sparkle green, the color of a deep tropical ocean. A thick fringe of dark lashes surrounds them. His face pulls at me, even though I don’t know who he is. He’s beautiful on so many levels that I wonder if the picture is part of a dream, one infinitely better than the one I was having.
I stare at his face and see kindness. A charming grin stretches across his square jaw, abruptly ending at a dimple. One so small, I have to squint to see it. His hair is a disheveled chocolate brown, and there’s a certain air of confidence in his posture. A confidence that far exceeds his age, which appears similar to my own.
I flip over the photo. There’s no name, date, or any other inscription, so I tip over the envelope. Nothing further falls out. It’s just a picture of a boy, one that instantly makes me want to know him.
I slide my finger down one edge of the photo. It’s been trimmed from a larger photo. As far as I can tell, there’s an arm of another boy draped across his shoulders. However, I’m just as unsure about why the two have been separated as I am about having received only this piece of the photo.
As perplexing as the photo is, I look at him for hours because I realize when I do, I feel safe. He helps me to forget about the Lady in Black and every other inexplainable thing that’s happened. Even though I’m unsure who’s sent it to me, what their reason, or if I will ever meet the boy, I’m grateful for the strange peace he brings me.
•
Ray comes home, and I’m still lying on the couch, cocooned in a blanket, slipping in and out of consciousness.
“So what’s this?” He grabs the envelope from the coffee table and waves it in the air.
I sit up and yawn. “Oh, ah…” I stumble over my words. I can hardly tell Ray about a picture of a boy when I have no idea who he is. “An invitation for a holiday party,” I lie.
“Oh, looks fancy,” he says and tosses it back on the table. “But remember, you’re grounded.”
“I know, Dad.” I throw my head back and roll my eyes.
“Just want to make sure you remember.”
How could I forget?
After making a pit stop in the kitchen for coffee, Ray meanders to his office. He stays there all day, working. I stay on the couch, taking advantage of the fact that I’m able to sleep peacefully.
•
Another week slips by uneventfully. I go to school, come home, do my homework, sleep, and get up and do it all over again. On Saturday, I rehang my curtain and manage to talk Ray into allowing me to return to practicing with my band members, despite the fact that I’m still grounded in every other way.
When school starts on Monday, I’m feeling pretty good. As flaky as it sounds, I acknowledge that the boy’s photo might, somehow, be keeping me sane. Nothing out of the ordinary has happened since it appeared.
I manage not to peek at the photo all day, but by my fifth period government class, I can’t help myself. I slip it from my pocket, just far enough to see his smiling eyes. Crushing on boys you see on TV is okay, so this is reasonable, too. Right?
Mr. LaSalle walks past toward the blackboard, his pants leg brushing against my desk. I quickly return the photo to my pocket, cross my leg, lodging my foot on my knee, and begin doodling on my Chucks.
The teacher paces in front of the classroom. His arms gesture with animation as he babbles about government structures. He calls on several students, awakening them out of their glassy-eyed daydreams, and finally his attention turns to me.
“Miss Parrish, please tell the class the definition of a communist government,” he asks, after scribbling communism on the board in yellow chalk. He spins around quickly, trying to catch me off guard because he’s decided I’m not paying attention.
I take a deep breath. “It’s a totalitarian society structure which dictates all government policies, property ownership, jobs and wages, and distribution of goods based on the collective economic needs of the state with the goal to abolish social class divisions.”
His mouth hangs open. “Where did you read that, Miss Parrish—from your tennis shoe?” Mr. LaSalle asks with a snort. All the students turn to look at me.
“No—I memorized it from our government book.” I sit up a little straighter, happy that I studied last night.
He regards me for a moment, tapping a piece of chalk to his lip. But before he has time to respond or question me further, the bell rings.
Thirty kids, including me, immediately catapult from their chairs and rush to the classroom exit. The halls buzz with laughter and chatter. Locker doors squeak open and bang closed. I weave through the madness, heading for the outdoor courtyard. When I push through a set of double doors, releasing me to the daylight, I inhale and relax my shoulders on a deep exhale. For me, leaving school is like coming up for air. Somehow, I always manage to escape right before drowning.
I amble to my usual lunch spot, the furthest location allowed on school grounds. When I reach it, I settle on the grass beneath a low palm. The precise angle of the canopy of fronds protects me from the Florida heat.
Words for new song lyrics have circled around in my head all day. The only way they’ll go away is if I write them down, so I poke around my tote for my pen and journal to make notes for my band members. When the pen eludes me, I dump the bag’s contents out onto a patch of grass. As everything spills out, tiny lizards, previously camouflaged against their surroundings, scurry away in all directions.
Instead of a pen, a glittering object coiled around my sunglasses catches my interest—my birthday gift. With all my obsessing over the Lady in Black and my general insanity, I’ve forgotten about my mom’s bracelet. This instantly makes me feel guilty.
Taking my time, I eat my sandwich and inspect the bracelet. Clearly, it’s an antique—old, but in decent condition. A large square emerald sits in the center, complemented by a floral wreath of metalwork on either side of the gem. Diamond chips intertwine the details. I place it over my wrist. The hard convex shape resembles a cuff but in three linked sections. It fits perfectly. As I start to latch it, my thoughts are with my mom, Eliza.
After fighting with the clasp for several minutes, I remember myself and look across the courtyard to the clock. “Crap.”
If I don’t leave for Chemistry now, I’ll be late for class. With today’s impending test, I can’t afford that. On top of everything else, Ray will kill me if I receive another detention.
Scrambling, I repack my bag then sprint across the courtyard, while trying to fasten the stubborn bracelet clasp on my wrist.
“Geez, Mom, how did you deal with thi—”
The last word never makes it from my mouth. A freezing gust of wind sucks the breath from my lungs. The ground shakes, violently jolting me from side to side. The earth twists and screams in a hideous, grinding noise under my feet. Behind me, trees crack in half, grass rips, and building foundations crush into themselves as the earth lifts high, rolling up into the blue sky. The land, which has turned into some kind of monster, hovers like a gigantic piece of paper folding over me.
Scared, I run faster, covering my face from the flying debris, but when I look up again, I freeze. The roof of my school building races down from the sky, ready to crush me underneath. I crouch down under its massive shadow, terrified, knowing I’m about to die.
The world slams shut over me, and an invisible force launches me forward at the speed of light into what can only be a wormhole. Confused, I struggle to reorient myself as a kaleidoscope of colors streaks by. Sounds become distant, muted, and warp into eerie whispers that call my name. When I recoil from them, my body bounces off a rubbery wall and explodes in a new direction through forceful winds. When I think it will never end, I abruptly collapse in a pile on firm ground.
Terrified and shaking, I remain doubled over on the grass for several moments. My lungs ache with ragged breathing. I force air in through my nose and out my mouth to calm myself.
I lift my head from my trembling hands.
I expect complete silence because I’m certain lunch is over and sixth period has started by now. Mr. Carver’s door is already shut! “Uhh!” I groan and roll onto all fours, grasping long blades of cool grass between my fingers. Even though I’ll miss class, I’m happy to feel the earth below, instead of racing downward from the sky to kill me.
People are laughing, talking, and moving nearby. And I decipher a curious new noise—city sounds.
Fuzzy objects slowly reclaim their shapes as I struggle to stand. My equilibrium is still off, so when I swing my tote over my shoulder, I stumble.
Worried, I grab my wrist and check for the bracelet. Still there. At least this relieves me.
My eyesight sharpens as I focus on my new surroundings. In the distance, a couple snuggles under a tree, but not a tropical palm, like in South Florida. I glance behind them, taking in the unfamiliar historical building. Turning, I see an exceptionally tall gold obelisk, similar to the Washington Monument. As I look up even higher, behind it stands a one-hundred-story-tall building, the John Hancock Center.
I gasp. My eyes open wide in disbelief.
I’m familiar with Chicago from my sporadic visits to Aunt Mona’s, and I realize I’m looking at it right now. Shocked and perplexed, I scan again, still confused beyond understanding because Miami is gone—completely disappeared.
There are cars parked on a nearby road—old cars. I recognize their approximate age from a car show I attended with a friend. Then I notice that all the cars zooming past on the bustling city street are old, at least by twenty years.
My focus whips back to the couple in love. They’re teenagers, but dressed like rock stars from twenty years ago, before I was even born. Is that some new fashion trend?
Cheerleaders practice handsprings on the lawn nearby. Their long, retro-style skirts touch their bare kneecaps.
Right now, I can’t believe what I’m looking at. It’s not only a different city, but it’s also at least twenty years before. The thought is absurd. Ridiculous. Impossible. Because I can’t even begin to process my predicament, I will my feet to run away.
I take off, racing away from the scene. The ground shakes below my feet. I increase my stride to escape it, but the quake worsens, jostling me from side to side. When I glance back over my shoulder, the menacing land rolls up toward the sky, blocking the clouds, the escaping birds, and finally the shining sun. It hovers above, like a crashing wave, and I’m beyond terrified. I pump my arms and run faster. This cannot be happening again.
The earth moans in pain as it collapses in on itself. Horrified, I crouch down where I am. I cover my ears, protecting them from the awful grinding sound.
When I glance up at the moving earth, I know I’m about to be crushed. But this time, the obelisk that once stood at the center of the courtyard, slices down from the sky, dagger sharp, ready to stab me. Just as its pointed apex skims my shoulder, I throw my body out of its path. The world snaps shut, and I drop through another wormhole.
My body tumbles through a prismatic haze of colors and whispers. Motion sickness takes over. I close my eyes. I don’t want to see what happens next.
Slam.
•
I awake to a buzzing noise.
Am I dead?
My head hurts. Something crunches when I move. It’s a bed covered with a roll of stiff white paper. Pungent disinfectant lingers in the air. I flinch at the same time that I heave myself into a sitting position. My wide eyes scan the cramped space. I’m sitting, ramrod, on a cot in my nurse’s office at school.
The bell rings.
I jump, still on edge.
Even though I’m light-headed, I hop off the bed, tripping over my own feet. I grab my tote from a plastic chair and dart from the room, hoping to escape before Nurse Perez returns. How can I even begin to explain to her what has happened, especially when I have no idea how I ended up in her office in the first place?
The hallway surges with students. They chatter and laugh, heading to their next class. Disoriented, I receive a few shoves. Just as it occurs to me that I have no idea how many classes I’ve missed, someone’s arm latches onto mine. Before my body can respond, my friend, Beth, pulls me forward.
“Quick!” she says and looks back. “We’ll never make it to Carver’s class if you move at this pace. We have a test—remember?” Her eyebrows arc over her brown eyes.
As confused as I am, I understand this: somehow, although I don’t know how, I haven’t missed anything. Beth drags me all the way to Chemistry because, under the present circumstances, making it on my own in my rattled state is impossible.
I collapse into my desk seat, toss my bag on the floor, and drop my head in my hands, rubbing my forehead. Despite a pounding headache and a nagging suspicion that I might be beyond mental, I need to focus on what I know is real—science.
Mr. Carver distributes the tests, and the quiet scribble of pencils begins.
For the next fifty-five minutes, I power through my chemistry exam, often dazing off in the middle of a problem, thinking about how the earth can fold over itself. Is that scientifically possible? No. Still, I finish in a timely manner and drop the test on Carver’s desk.
The bell rings, and I exit the door, rushing to Beth’s side. “I need to get out of here.”
“Sure. Where to? The roof?”
I nod.
Together we creep into a hidden staircase behind building D, which empties three floors up and out onto a tar and paper rooftop. After determining the best spot, far away from the edge, we plop down with our bags in the shadow of a large air conditioning unit. From our hiding place, we have a wide view of Miami Beach.
Beth taps a single cigarette from a pack. She traps the cigarette between her lips and pulls it from the box. After two quick flicks from a lighter, she’s puffing away. She blows a long trail of smoke into the air and then coughs a few times.
I slide the photo of the boy out of my pocket. He smiles back, but I quickly put him away when Beth glances over. There’s no way for me to explain him to her. Besides, there’s something I need to decide. Should I tell her about how the earth inexplicably rolled over and knocked me to Chicago? No. Probably not a good idea. How can I explain something I don’t understand? Now, only a short time later, it just seems like a dream—an impossible dream.
Instead of revealing my insanity, I give her my “stop smoking” speech. I almost convince her to quit after explaining that her lungs will resemble the large pile of black tar that sits two feet away from us.
The sun disappears. I think that it’s gone behind the clouds, but there are no clouds today. I look up. Mrs. Wilson, our school administrator, stands nearby, casting her large shadow over us.
Her beady gaze flickers between Beth’s cigarette and me. Mrs. Wilson clears her throat and crosses her arms. Beth’s hand sinks until her cigarette is hidden behind her back. She moves her arm back and forth, scratching it out on the ground.
“Nurse Perez has been looking for you, Miss Parrish. I hope you have a good reason for leaving her office.” Mrs. Wilson frowns. Then one hand-drawn eyebrow lifts in question.
“There’s always a reason,” I say. “It’s just not a good one.”
Beth sniffs at my comment.
“Your dad has arrived to retrieve you.” Mrs. Wilson’s angelic voice continues, ignoring my remark. “I suspect he’s here to take you to the hospital for your possible concussion. However, it seems as though you’re healthy enough to skip class.”
“Concussion? Hospital?” Beth questions, confused.
“Don’t ask,” I say under my breath.
I glance up at Mrs. Wilson. In the blinding sun, her stance tenses. She’s waiting for my explanation, but I only shrug and look down. Arguing is such a waste of energy when you’re caught red-handed. And what would I tell her? I needed to skip class because the earth crushed me at lunch?
Mrs. Wilson speaks into her walkie-talkie. “Tell Nurse Perez that I’ve found Miss Parrish, and
she appears to be fine.” Her eyes give me the once-over.
“Miss Parrish, Miss Sanchez—let’s move it to the principal’s office. Now!”
Wander Dust Page 3
