Sam's Theory

by Sarah Mendivel

  A splinter, glass, whatever it was, this mood was bugging me enough to consider the option of finishing this memory once and for all. Maybe I just needed to suck it up and dig for it so that I could feel normal again. I scratched my head, deciding to trust her instincts. “Okay, we can try again.”

  “Wonderful,” she said, rising to her feet. “If we start and you decide that it’s too much, we’ll let it rest again and try another approach. Either way, kiddo, we’ll shake this bad day from you somehow.”

  I smiled for the first time today, appreciating her enthusiasm and the fight she always put in on my behalf. I stood up to meet her in the middle of our chairs. With the usual wave of her arm, the library dimmed and a single green star appeared.

  “Now, just relax enough to let it reappear. Since you’re feeling frustrated, it might take a couple tries to bring up all the way. Remember, you have Protector and me here to help you, if you need it.”

  I nodded my head, shaking my arms free of the nerves that were suddenly building in my shoulders. “Yeah, sounds good.”

  She looked me over, as if to make sure I was telling the truth. “All right, onward and upward then.”

  With the slight jest of her index finger, the star began to swing in the familiar back and forth pattern I had grown to expect.

  Left, right, left, right.

  The hologram of my childhood room flickered to life before us. The scene looked as it always did, except that none of the characters were moving.

  “You okay?” asked Theory, also noticing the difference right away.

  I squinted my eyes, trying my hardest to make something move. “Yeah, I don’t know why nothing is going.”

  “That’s okay,” Theory reassured. “Just relax and let it happen. You’re safe and you can do this.”

  “Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath and trying again.

  Left, right, left, right.

  The hologram children began to move, but before they could project their scripted voices, they froze again.

  “Ugh!” I grunted, feeling as stuck as my memory.

  “Slow down, Sam. Remember what I said, this one will take time to get back into.”

  “Yeah, okay, sorry,” I said, trying to calm myself down enough to stay present. I shut my eyes and rubbed my forehead. Maybe this wasn’t going to work, after all. I should just give up and try it again tomorrow. But Theory was right. It felt like something needed to surface and escape, once and for all. This wasn’t a normal mood for me to be in; I needed to figure it out.

  “No need to be sorry. Your brain is trying to protect you right now. It knows that this is a scary process for you. Let’s respect the work it’s doing by helping it feel safe. Let’s bring in Protector to help,” she suggested.

  I exhaled deeply. “Yeah, fine.”

  “Okay, ready?”

  “Yep, sure,” I said, feeling the anxiety of not being able to perform suddenly. I didn’t want Theory watching me, and I felt like a failure already. I started to wonder if she would get frustrated at me, too, if I couldn’t make the memory move. Maybe we should stop before we ruined the good thing we had going.

  “Sam, you’re doing great,” she encouraged.

  I looked up at her, recognizing her sincerity. “All right, thank you. Let’s try again.”

  Theory tilted her finger to the side and the glittering green light began to sway.

  Left, right, left, right.

  The hologram started up again, this time with Protector hovering over little-me and Nova. The kids started to jump and play, but as they opened their mouths, their words appeared to be on mute.

  “Ugh, forget it. This is pointless! I can’t even make them talk,” I complained.

  Theory waved her arm to make the hologram disappear completely. “That’s okay, we can try again later. It seems like you might need to take a walk or get outside.”

  Nothing sounded like it would work, but at least going for a walk wasn’t processing. “Yeah, fine, I can do that.”

  Theory patted my shoulder softly as we walked toward the front door. “A walk will do you good, kiddo. Go blow off some steam. Feelings can be very physical, and sometimes we need to do something active to get rid of them.”

  I opened the door, wondering what I could do outside to reset myself. “True. Gah, all right, I’ll give it a try.”

  “Here,” she said, extending a small, rectangular piece of metal my way.

  “What’s this?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Flint,” she said proudly.

  “Flint? What am I gonna do with flint?”

  “Try and build a fire, of course,” Theory said, almost laughing at my question.

  “Build a fire? Ugh, it’s raining,” I replied with full-on attitude, pointing outside, as if the gloomy woods and foggy air hadn’t already tipped her off.

  “So it is. Well, that will make it more challenging then, I suppose,” she winked.

  I shook my head, still not in the mood to play. I took the flint, not wanting to be completely rude, but knowing I probably wouldn’t use it.

  “You know how to build a fire, right?” she asked, as if suddenly remembering I wasn’t a wilderness survival expert.

  “Sort of,” I admitted.

  “Well, getting together a handful of tinder is probably the most crucial part of it in weather like this. Tinder can be anything, like tiny pinecone chips or dry leaves. The only wood that lights when it’s wet like this is birch, but there isn’t any around here for miles. So remember that tinder matters. Once you’ve established a hefty pile of that, build your logs on top of it in the shape of a triangle or cube, so that the wind can pass through it. Fires need air to breathe and grow.”

  “Yeah, okay, that’s helpful, thank you. I’ll see if I come across stuff to try it out on,” I said, only half listening and trying still to leave the house.

  “Okay, kiddo. Good luck and enjoy yourself,” she said, finally letting me and my personal rain cloud join the rest of the ones outside.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, anxious to get walking. Theory closed the door behind me and I scrambled down the tree, landing on the forest floor with a huff. I lifted the hood of my hoodie over my head and began to walk into the woods.

  The rain pelted onto the dirt around me, sending tiny splashes of water zipping into the fabric of my pant legs. I walked around for half an hour, doing my best to crawl over every log and major stone in my path to get some exercise. I played tightrope with twisty tree roots and swung from sturdy branches, but nothing seemed to feel right still. What was going on with me today? Why did I seem to hate everything in sight?

  I climbed up and leapt off a nurse log, landing near an unsuspecting pile of sticks. Shuffling a few around with my foot, I started to feel for the flint in my pocket.

  “Try and build a fire, Sam. Try and run off your weirdness today, Sam,” I said, sounding snarkier than I had intended. I looked around to see if anyone had heard me, feeling guilty for having brushed off one of Theory’s ideas so quickly.

  “Ugh, fine!” I yelled to no one listening.

  I bent over and began collecting sticks. After several minutes of trying to build the perfect teepee of wood, I threw a few wet branches of pine needles under it, hoping that would suffice. My structure looked more like a shelter for squirrels than it did a campfire. Oh well, whatever; it was triangular like Theory had suggested.

  I knelt next to the pile and sparked the flint.

  Nothing.

  I leaned closer to the wood, figuring the sparks weren’t reaching it. I tried again several times, but nothing happened. How hard could this possibly be? The rain began to soak my hair, making my bangs stick to my forehead. I pushed them to the side and shoved the sleeves of my hoodie up to my elbow. My sweater felt damp and was making my skin cold. Frustrated about being wet suddenly, I chipped away at the flint a few more times until the subtle frustration eventually exploded into outright anger.

  “Gah, forget it! This is stupi
d, I can’t do this,” I yelled, kicking logs off the fire pit. I picked up a wet stick and chucked it across the forest. It hit a tree and spun back like a boomerang. “Gaaah, I can’t even throw a stick the right way!”

  I was so angry that everything started to irritate me. The rain was annoying, the cold was annoying, and the fact that I couldn’t start a simple fire was annoying. How hard was it to make a fire, anyway? I couldn’t do anything right today.

  I woke up in a bad mood and it just kept following me. I gritted my teeth and kicked patches of moss free from the dirt. What kind of idiot couldn’t follow basic directions? What kind of wimp couldn’t finish a hologram memory the right way? Why was everything so hard right now? Sometimes I wish I didn’t exist.

  I ran up to a tree and threw my hands on the trunk of it. I was so angry that I started to push against it. “Grrrr!”

  I dug my feet into the ground and used all of my strength to try and shove the tree right out of the ground. I summoned everything inside of me that felt like a failure and pushed. I pushed, and pushed, and pushed until finally I was out of breath and my arms gave out. I collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily. The anger had left my body just enough to feel in control again.

  I hated feeling angry; it made my entire body feel like it was a runaway train slamming into a row of cars. My muscles tensed so hard I thought they’d snap right off. It seemed to come out of nowhere sometimes.

  I felt my body sinking out of anger and into sadness. Why did my feelings keep switching over so quickly? Was I going crazy? Would I grow up to be like Him? Was I unpredictable and dark like Him? Or was this part of the process, like Theory kept telling me it was?

  I don’t know what made Him such a monster, but I knew I couldn’t turn out like Him. I was scared of becoming mean the way He always was. I didn’t want to grow up and hurt anyone. If anything, I needed to protect other kids from going through the same hell. I had to figure out what to do about all of these feelings before it was too late. I bowed my head, wanting to cry for reasons I couldn’t quite figure out.

  Before tears could surface fully, there was a rustle in the nearby bushes that startled me out of my self-loathing. My eyes shot toward the noise, hoping it was something small like a squirrel. Instead, the prominent figure of a male elk walked toward me, holding his antlers high above me.

  Stunned out of my anger, I stood up slowly, cautiously meeting him at eye level. Was this the same elk from the river? I quickly counted six velvety points of his antlers and recognized the same chestnut brown coat. What was he doing way out here, so far from the water? I held still, trying to appear non-threatening, admiring the fortitude of his presence. He appeared much more solid and powerful up close than he did across the river. I wondered how much he weighed, imagining him crushing me in a single blow. I wondered why he was being so careful with me now.

  The elk huffed, sending a puff of steam from his nose into the cold forest air. He seemed so calm, as if nothing could shake him. I bet this guy didn’t freak out if he couldn’t do something. I thought of how far he must have traveled to discover this spot. He likely had to find a way across the river before getting here safely, which probably took forever.

  Suddenly Theory’s words passed through my head. “Anger allows us to take action and make decisions…”

  Ohhh, yeah! How had I forgotten that feelings have jobs? The hologram I was working on had reminded me that I had spent my entire life being threatened by someone or something. I had grown up in every version of fear available to a human being. I was tired of being a victim and wanted to feel more than afraid every day.

  People had taken advantage of me to satisfy their own selfish needs for years. No wonder I was so furious! It had nothing to do with not being able to build a fire; it was about the fire that my past had set inside of me forever ago.

  I was done being pushed around. Being angry finally made me want to do something about it.

  The elk shifted in place and turned his head so that I could see his eyes. They were coffee black and relaxed. Mystified by his calm demeanor, I chanced raising my hand to wave hello. The elk held his place, unfazed by my movement. Respecting his space, I slowly walked backwards toward my log pile. He watched me intently, blinked, turned, and then sauntered away back into the trees.

  “Goodbye, friend,” I whispered out loud, feeling my entire internal system reset.

  Looking down at my tumbled mess of logs, I felt a little embarrassed that I had gotten so angry over nothing. Nudging a log with my foot, the dirt of the forest floor peered through and I realized that I had forgotten to make tinder.

  “Of course,” I chirped exuberantly. “You can’t start a fire in the rain without tinder!”

  I rushed to a nearby tree and tore off a stretch of bark. Using the sharp edge of the flint, I cracked into a layer of the wood and started peeling it off like string cheese. After I had a handful of bark shavings, I reached into my pocket and pulled out flecks of lint. I searched for a couple of dry inches of pine needles, proudly throwing them into my growing nest of tinder.

  When the nest had been fully formed, I quickly reassembled the stack of logs to protect it from the rain. I looked at my creation, taking a deep breath in hopes that it would work this time around. I held the flint up to the tinder nest and clicked it vigorously. A glitter of sparks fell onto the nest, but nothing caught. I wiped the rain from my forehead, recalling the calm in the elk’s eyes, then tried again.

  This time I chipped the flint with fury and watched a shower of sparks douse the nest. A tiny flame caught and I held my hands over it to stop the wind from huffing it out. After a few moments, the flame grew into a steady burn and began to lick the sides of the bottom log. Eventually, the bottom log caught on fire fully and I jumped to my feet. “Wooo hooo! I did it!”

  I raced in circles with my arms raised in victory, yelling so that the entire universe could hear me. “I made fire!”

  A rush of accomplishment filled my veins and I felt like I was on top of the world. Suddenly I felt like I could do anything. I continued whooping with excitement; throwing in a few snazzy dance moves. “I did it. Oh yeah, I did it.”

  I was so proud of myself for building my first fire, laughing now at how silly I was to forget such an important step. It was so simple; I had just let my feelings get in the way. I couldn’t believe I had forgotten the one thing that was responsible for making everything else work correctly.

  Wait a minute.

  The image of the hologram instantly popped into my head. I held my hands over my fire, racing over the steps of this morning’s processing over and over again. I was forgetting something. But, what was it?

  Faster than the flash a light bulb, the answer appeared. “Oh my God, of course!”

  Thrilled that I had figured out the missing piece in how to defeat Him finally, I hurriedly snuffed out my fire with wet soil and leaves. As the smoke sizzled into a tired white cloud behind me, I took off through the bushes and jetted over the maze of logs back to Theory’s.

  By the time I arrived to the ladder of branches beneath the house, I was out of breath and beaming with excitement. I looked up at the tree, inhaled deeply, and lunged onto the bottom branch. This would be the last obstacle to conquer before I could finish my mission.

  I climbed the tree furiously, not wanting to waste another minute. I landed on the porch of the house and burst through the front door, soaking wet. Theory sat up from the living room couch. Not willing to slow down for the sake of being polite this time, I forced the words past my exhausted breaths. “Theory, I’m ready to finish processing!”

  She smiled and nodded stoically. “All right, kiddo. Let’s get to it, then.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Dodger used to nickname the weekends “So-What-Saturdays-and-Sundays,” because of the freedom they usually afforded us. After having talked a few times in passing and deciding we clicked, we started hanging out more regularly. I felt safe around him, almost instantly set
tling into his candor and protective energy. We would talk for hours about random nonsense, and then about deeper things, like what had happened to us to get us to rez. It was easy to be myself with him, which said a lot, since I still wasn’t sure who that was quite yet.

  “So-What-Saturdays” were our favorite because it meant the pizza place on the corner would have cheaper slices. Rez would let the teens who had earned enough good behavior points wander around the neighborhood during the day, and we took full advantage. Saturdays were usually the most laid back, involving too much pizza and even more laughter. That is, of course, unless the Squawks were out and about.

  There was a group of four rambunctious guys that Dodger had deemed “The Squawks.” They came from rich, two-parent households and reeked of entitlement. For whatever reason, probably a mixture of boredom and privilege, they found immense joy in giving rez kids a hard time. They usually stayed away from Dodger, but since trouble always seemed to find him whenever he was out and about, a squabble was inevitable.

  “They’re like baby birds that squawk to be fed,” Dodger would say bitterly. “The second they whine, their moms comes running to take care of them. They wouldn’t last two minutes on their own. Hmph, Squawks!” I’d laugh and watch the group walk past us with their dirty looks and judgments. Even though I acted casual, I always found myself leaning into a Dodger a bit when we’d all have to share the same sidewalk with them.

  The heat seemed to be particularly heavy on one summer Saturday, putting everyone outside on edge. Dodger and I had just made it across the street from rez and were already bantering about what kind of pizza we would get. As we rounded the corner, the Squawks popped up out of nowhere and met us with a hungry look that I hadn’t seen before.

  “Oy, well if it isn’t big man Dodger and his little groupie!” gawked one of the guys in our direction. I immediately shoved my hands into my pants pockets and looked down at the sidewalk, hoping they’d leave us alone if I didn’t make eye contact. Dodger took the more courageous approach, walking taller and making a point to look straight at them.