Outside, Dad looked up and saw me standing at the window with my arms crossed. He gave me a sad kind of smile and turned back to the barn, his shoulders hunching. He didn’t like this any better than I did.
I sighed and gave in, going outside to sit on the steps with him. I kicked at the dirt with the toe of my sneaker and tried to figure out how to say goodbye.
“They’re here,” the Professor announced, his hovering holo-projector scuttling up next to me. “Setting down in the meadow past the tree line.” Professor Obot, aka Obot the Robot, was my absentee mother’s version of the Video Professor, but worse, a boring hologram who half the time forgot he wasn’t a real person.
I squinted at the trees. It must be something big. The horses thought so too, going wild in the paddock. After a few minutes, something trundled past the trees, taking the long way around even though there were gaps more than big enough for what looked like… a VW bus?
Yep. Okaaay. They must have left the main spaceship in the forest. Maybe they thought they were being stealthy or something. But the van was leaving an oddly wide, flattened trail behind it. Definitely not stealthy.
There was something strange about how the vehicle moved, hovering almost.
“I’m leaving to meet my mother for the first time in a hippie van? You’ve got to be joking,” I said, wondering for the millionth time what the people on Macawi were like. Probably mostly normal I guessed, like Sensei and the Robot. It wasn’t like Macawans were little green men or anything. After all, they had come from Earth originally. Thousands of years ago they were known as the Amazons from an area near the Black Sea.
I watched as the van parked in the exact center of the barn, with help from the Professor and Sensei waving it forward as if directing planes at the airport. Dad shut the big barn doors, leaving the interior swirling with dust and dark in the artificial lights.
An enormous woman stepped out the sliding door of the VW. She was literally the biggest woman I’d ever seen, almost seven feet tall and muscled. She had a heavily pock-marked face and wore desert fatigues and combat boots. She looked around, assessing things and tucked a few unruly strands of bright green hair under her stocking cap.
***
A few weeks after I learned about the custody agreement from h-e-double-hockey-sticks, we returned to the slopes with Andi and her mom Judith in tow. They'd lost Andi’s dad at about the same time as my mother left, around my first birthday. Dad was in over his head with me, the house, and his business, so he hired Judith to be our live-in housekeeper and nanny. Andi and Judith have lived with us ever since. My mother may have given birth to me, but Judith was the only mom I’d ever known. At one time I'd hoped Dad and Judith would get together and Andi would be my real sister. But now that I realized Dad was still in love with my mother, it made sense why he and Judith had always been just friends, and why he'd agreed to this awful custody agreement.
Andi and I left our parents on the bunny slopes where Dad was teaching Judith to ski, while we headed out on our snowboards and met up with some other kids. I don’t remember whose idea it was to ignore the warning signs and go out of bounds. All I know is the deserted, pristine powder made for the best snowboarding ever – right up until it suddenly wasn’t.
We found an amazing jump and I went last, throwing a totally ridiculous trick I had no hope of landing. I made it snow all around me as I crashed into the soft powder. I looked around for the score on my epic fail, but the others weren’t where I thought they’d be. I shook snow out of my face and spotted them racing downhill. They weren’t even waiting for me. Ru-ude!
The shaking ground under me registered for the first time. I heard a sound like the rumble of thunder.
My breath caught and I jerked around to look behind me. All I saw was white - a rolling, churning, tumbling wave bearing down on me. I gasped and pushed myself up as fast as I could, hopping to get started in the soft powder, and following Andi and the others downhill. They’d almost made it to the tree line, but I couldn’t get going fast enough after my fall. I wasn’t going to make it.
Turning toward the safety of the trees slowed me down when what I needed most was speed. The ground was trembling so badly that it was a miracle I was still upright. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the enormous wave of bright white snow about to wash over me. Deadly tree branches showed themselves amongst the roiling tumult.
I was almost to the trees when I saw Andi and the other kids, their faces horrified, hands waiting to catch me, to pull me in. I was still ten feet away when the avalanche broke over my head, sweeping me up and pulling me under.
I tumbled blindly for I'm not sure how long and tried to swim toward the surface, remembering that’s what you were supposed to do. But it was impossible. I fell end over end, not sure which way was up as the bright white of the snow turned into the pitch black of burial. Eventually I became aware that I had stopped and opened my eyes to see… nothing. I pressed out against my entombment, struggling and panting frantically, starting to hyperventilate.
I tried to concentrate on breathing slowly and figuring out which way was up in the darkness. Gravity, I thought. Okay, gravity. I felt my left side pressing into the snow inside the little bubble created by my struggle. That must be down.
I tried to sit up but only ended up falling over. It took a few more adjustments to be able to sit upright.
Something hard poked into my thigh, and I found a jagged edge. Digging produced a divine gift – a ragged, six inch slice of snowboard. I worked my way upward as best I could, but my warmth was turning the snow into an icy wall around me. My progress was almost non-existent. How long had it been?
Over and over, I buried myself in snow from my short, personal ceiling. It was freezing, and I had lost one of my gloves. My hand hurt from the cold. How did Eskimos do it?
Surely everyone would be looking for me. Andi would call Dad and 911 on her cell. I screamed, but heard no response, only my own muffled yell. I kept digging, burying myself and wriggling up, again and again, for what seemed like hours. My right hand was completely numb now, beyond pain. I didn’t care. I was so frantic to get out, I barely noticed its uselessness.
After what seemed like an eternity I heard dogs barking above, and people calling my name. I tried to scream again, but couldn’t seem to drag enough air into my lungs. How long had it been? How long could I possibly stand? I was running out of air, and fast.
My heart went into overdrive and I scrabbled at the icy ceiling with my makeshift trowel, beginning to see points of light in the dark, hoping they were the sun, that I was almost there. But they faded and strangely reappeared in different spots.
It took my fuzzy brain a minute to realize they were starbursts in front of my eyes. My hands and legs were all tingly and numb. My hearing was growing even more muted. This was asphyxiation.
I couldn’t move my fingers anymore. My tingling hands cramped into tight claws that I could not seem to loosen, and the bit of board slipped through my fingers. I couldn’t stop now though. Something pushed me to continue clawing at the snow, ripping at it, working my way up with every last bit I had.
I heard a dog barking above me, clawing toward me too, thank God! And a subdued voice calling to the others; calling not yelling, no excitement there.
I vaguely wondered why and hoped he’d hurry it up, trusting the dog to keep digging even as my eyesight got dimmer. I couldn't remember... what was I....
I awoke to the insistent beeping of a heart monitor pounding into my skull and quiet arguing on either side of me. The bed I was lying on jerked from side to side. The crook of my arm felt uncomfortably warm. Something covered my nose and mouth, pumping warm, moist air at me that smelled faintly like Judith’s coconut macaroons.
“This is ridiculous! You can’t just park her out in the hallway, for God’s sake. This is a hospital!” said a man's voice I didn’t recognize.
“Then get her a room with direct sun. I told you, she has an extreme form of SADs.” Sen
sei won the tug-of-war on my bed and rolled me out the door.
What was she talking about? I wasn’t extremely sad, although some sunshine would be nice right about now.
“We’re treating her for hypothermia! I think that’s a little more important than seasonal depression at the moment,” sputtered the pompous voice from the foot of the bed. He was in between me and my doorway to sunshine. “Just who do you think you are, anyway? If you don’t stop interfering with my patient, I’ll have to have you thrown out.”
“I’m her Karate instructor, and I’d like to see you try,” Sensei said in a calm voice with an edge of steel. I snorted. So would I.
“Doctor,” I recognized Dad’s soothing, let’s-be-reasonable voice and tried to open my eyes. “It’s only temporary. We’ve already sent someone to get her full spectrum lights from home, and I’m just going to roll this IV cart along with us. I’m afraid you’ll have to listen to Sensei on this one.”
“Are you people mad?! How am I supposed to treat her for hypothermia in the hallway?”
“Be creative, Doctor. Be creative,” Sensei advised as she wheeled me to the end of the corridor and parked me next to a huge window in the blessed sunlight, stripping off the layers covering my head and arms. Ooooh. It felt sooo good. I never wanted to move from that spot.
“She’s lucky to have survived that mountain, and now you two are going to kill her.” I could almost hear the doctor throw up his hands as he walked away muttering something about “crazy foreign punk-haired militant feminists.”
Some hours later, I was back in my hospital room, the sun having shifted to stream in through its window. I was sitting up now, thanks to the nifty raise-able back on my bed, and scarfing down warm tofu pudding and almond milk cocoa. It wasn’t as good as Judith’s, but I was surprised the hospital even had stuff for vegans.
A new doctor squinted through my personal spotlight of full-spectrum lights to explain that I’d been buried for two and a half hours, much too long to have survived with no oxygen.
Dad looked haggard but happy, slumped in a chair at my bedside. Andi and Judith's eyes were red from crying. Sensei was the calmest of the bunch, looking proud and almost… smug.
Everyone said I must have had an air pocket. The doctors, nurses, and the technicians too. Or, there must have been some small hole to the surface allowing air in…. Or, it was a miracle. They all had some way of explaining it to themselves, since it didn’t make sense otherwise. I did have a twisted knee and a mild case of frostbite on my right hand, but all in all, I was lucky – or something.
Dad and Sensei agreed with the others, but didn’t voice any theories of their own. While everyone else was busy, I overheard Sensei whisper to him, “You see? This proves she’ll be fine. Now you have to tell her.”
Odd thoughts kept running through my head about how it didn’t make sense. Every time I glanced over at Dad he seemed to be avoiding my gaze. The whole thing was strangely suspicious. What was seasonal depression, and why did I never know that I had an extreme case?
After the doctor and nurses left, resoundingly assured that I wanted all the lights left on, I leaned back and soaked up the rays. I could almost imagine I was lying by the pool in summer. Even having to ignore the Robot’s droning, nasal voice helped set the scene. Dad put him under strict orders to stay by the door and disappear when any of the hospital staff came around.
After a while, Andi went to check out the cafeteria. Judith, who’d been fidgeting in the corner for hours, announced, “I can’t take it anymore.” She rummaged through her shoulder bag, producing a comb. “Your hair is a rats’ nest, Sunny. Do you know how much debris you have stuck in there?”
She reached over and pulled out a six-inch twig that I didn’t realize had been poking me in the scalp until she removed it. She began attacking the snarls with a vengeance, as if personally offended by their presence. I tried to relax and let her have her way.
After ten minutes of tugging and “cursing” (shuckers, shoot, and crud were the extent of Judith’s swear vocabulary) she shook her head. “These knots are impossible. We’re gonna have to cut these puppies out.” She rummaged again in her oversized bag and pulled out a small pair of scissors. Judith was such a girl scout.
“Uh, Judith…,” Dad began from his seat by the window.
“Yes, I know you and her mother have some weird agreement about never cutting her hair, but look at this! There’s no way I can get this out.” She grabbed a sticky mat of hair full of pine sap and shook it at him.
“Judith, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the Robot declared pompously. “Not unless you want to hurt her for some reason, as a punishment for going out of bounds in the first place, perhaps? If so, I wholly concur. Please proceed.”
Apparently he was still holding a grudge from the time I tried to “accidentally” lose his projector out the car window at 60 mph. Sigh. He was never going to forget that.
“What are you talking about? Is this some Middle Eastern superstition or something?” Judith had long since grown used to the high-tech “prototype” hologram hovering around. “I assure you, nothing bad will happen.” She raised the scissors.
“Judith, before you do that, may I show you why it may not the best idea to cut Sunny’s hair?” Sensei asked, holding out a hand. Judith handed over the scissors with a little “humph” of exasperation.
Sensei looked over at Dad who was rubbing his hand against his forehead as if he had a headache. He sighed and nodded at her unasked question, then moved from his chair to stand beside me.
“Samabish, would you mind handing me one of those,” she sighed, “paper towels next to your elbow there, please?”
The Robot tried to take a towel from the dispenser next to him, but his hand passed right through. I giggled as he cursed.
Sensei retrieved the towel herself with an apologetic look. “Sorry Professor, sometimes I still forget you’re not the real Samabish Obot,” she said.
He sniffed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Sensei gave him a dignified nod and released her green hair from its standard utilitarian bun. I was always surprised at how long it was, down to her lower back. She grabbed a lock of hair at random, made sure Judith was watching, and quickly snipped the end off.
As she held it up for inspection, I could see white fluid start to well up out of the ends of each strand, like when you pick a dandelion. Before the white stuff could drip on the floor, she wrapped it in the paper towel and squeezed, as if putting pressure on a wound.
“That’s why,” she said simply. “It’s really quite uncomfortable.” I was stunned. My eyes were like saucers, and Judith’s expression was gaping. Dad caught her as she slumped to the floor in a dead faint.
At first I couldn’t think, and then my thoughts raced around in circles like a hamster on a wheel. I didn’t even notice Dad moving Judith to the reclining chair. Why would Sensei's hair do that? Was it bleeding? No. People’s hair didn’t bleed. But it was doing something… something not normal.
I always thought she dyed it that bright green color. Was it natural? Did she have plants growing out of her head? What did that have to do with me? My hair wouldn’t bleed, would it? No. No. Of course not. People got haircuts all the time. Except Dad never let you get a haircut, the little voice in my head whispered.
Why would her hair do that? I thought again. There had to be something wrong with her. Her not me. It had nothing to do with me…. Right?
And then another stream of thoughts spun through my head. How did I survive that avalanche? They said nobody could have survived that long. Was I just amazingly lucky? Why would Sensei say the sun was important for me, when the doctor said it wasn’t? How did she know? And what was she saying about my hair?
I spotted the scissors on the rolling bedside table where Sensei had set them down. Without thinking, I reached for the table and yanked it toward me, grabbed up the scissors and whacked at a chunk of my hair.
“Yeeow!�
� I screeched, dropping the scissors. Pain zinged up my damaged hair into my scalp, like cutting a fingernail too short.
“Sunny! Are you okay?” Dad asked concerned, rubbing my arm.
“I told you it was uncomfortable,” Sensei said calmly, handing me a paper towel at the same time as I heard footsteps running down the hall.
The Robot announced, “Nurse,” and disappeared. I quickly wrapped my weeping hair in the towel and tried to look normal.
The kindly, middle-aged nurse bustled in. “Are you okay in here?”
I sat there, not knowing how to answer her.
“I-I was just trying to get the knots out of her hair,” stammered Judith. “She leaned too far forward and ended up getting pudding in it.” Everyone turned to look at her. How long had she been awake?
“Would you like to wash your hair?” the nurse asked me. “Some conditioner would probably help with those knots and I can help you so you don’t hurt your knee.”
“No!” I yelled. I couldn’t let her see. I didn’t want her to know. “I mean, no. Thanks,” I tried to say more calmly.
She gave me a strange look. “Okay well, just push your call button if you need anything.”
I managed to nod as she shut the door.
“Dad?” I looked over at him. “Dad, what’s wrong with me?”
“Sweetheart, there’s nothing wrong with you.” Dad looked right in my eyes and gripped my hand. “Absolutely nothing.”
“But Dad,” I held up my fist with my towel-wrapped hair still clenched inside.
“You’re a little different, honey. That’s all. Special,” he insisted.
“Not that special,” the Robot muttered.
Dad ignored him. “I wanted to wait to tell you. Maybe I waited too long.” He paused. “Sunny, what I’m about to tell you is a secret. You can’t tell anyone. Not even Andi, okay?” I nodded. “Spit swear on it?” He spit into his palm and held it out to me.
“Ewww,” I protested with a giggle, but spit on my hand all the same and shook on it before wiping my hand on the blankets.
The Faarian Chronicles: Exile Page 3
