by Danae Ayusso
With that realization being said, what’s my style?
If I’m going to go clothes shopping, I have to know what to look for…
I’ve never been shopping for myself before.
“Are there school uniforms?” I blurted out.
Please say yes, please say yes.
Oh Hell no!
That would make it so much easier.
True.
“No,” Shep snorted. “Just throw on some overalls, a holey flannel and a straw hat and you’ll be fine.”
Uh, fuck and that.
I groaned. “Seriously?”
The adults laughed, the twins looked at me curiously, and Shep shook his head.
“No. Just wear whatever you want,” Shep said, thinking I was kidding, but I wasn’t.
That’s so much easier said than done. I honestly don’t know what I want.
“I think that I’m going to have to watch MTV to figure that out,” I groaned.
Price shook his head. “No. No MTV fashions. That was,” he huffed, “I have never been so scared in my life!”
Again they laughed, even I did.
Price sighed. “Sadly I’m serious. One minute they’re wearing next to nothing and the next, even less! I wasn’t sure how it was possible, and this coming from a man with a genius level IQ and more than two degrees! It…it scared me. All I could picture was you stepping off the train in hardly any clothes and chomping on gum like a bovine chewing grass. I was terrified.”
Good thing we left the hoodrat starter kit back at the halfway house.
“That isn’t my thing,” I assured him. “But I don’t know what my thing is either.”
“You’ll figure it out,” he assured me.
Chapter Seven
North Pasture
After dinner, Ellie and Nick sat in front of the television with coffee and cookies in hand to watch the local news. The rest of us walked along the bank of the creek, heading towards wherever they were taking me. The grass isn’t overly long, but in places, it’s long enough that it swayed, almost as if it was dancing in the warm, evening breeze. The sun was starting to set between the mountains, painting the sky in shades of violet, red, orange and blue. It was warm, but not nearly as warm as the hellish heat I left on the east coast. It’s a nice, comfortable heat that licks at your skin without causing you to sweat your balls off… Not that I have balls, but still.
The creek runs right down the middle of the property, seemingly dividing it in half. I don’t know if it was on purpose or if it just appeared to be perfectly divided, but it amused me for some reason. My entire life everything was a line drawn in the sand: can’t wear red on this street, can’t wear black on the next street up, can’t make eye contact with the old lady of the dealer of the week, can’t laugh and joke with your friends in public otherwise a hater will roll up on you shooting. Everything was divided in half. And much like this creek, the divide was clearly visible.
I wonder if I would be shot if I crossed the line?
The thought intrigued me so I jumped over the creek and stood on the opposite side and looked around, waiting for some homies to roll up and start shooting.
Nothing happened.
“What are you doing?” Shep asked as I spun around looking for something, anything, but there were only empty pastures.
I huffed. “That was anticlimactic. I was waiting for something, but nothing happened.”
“Are you drunk?” he snorted.
“No. I found the watery divide amusing,” I tried to explain. “Back in Philly, if you crossed the street wearing the wrong color you had a big target on you. I was just checking to see if the same applied to pastures.”
He scratched his head. “Huh?”
Blondes!
“Like on the East Side around 12th and Huntingdon. You know, Bloods, Crips, 18th Street, MS-13. Hello, ring a bell?”
Now you’re just patronizing him.
A bit, but he annoys me.
Shep looked at the other three and back to me. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I vaguely remember that East versus West turf war in the rap game. But that’s only because I saw a special on Biggie and Pac. Mind you it was on the history channel, but it was still really informative,” he said then smiled wide, and I laughed. “Women are from Mars and Men are from Venus, but you, Mikey, are from North Philly.”
Whoa.
I shook my head. “I’m pretty damn sure you have that backwards. Men are from Mars, but I’m totally from North Philly.”
“Same difference!” he exclaimed, and I rolled my eyes. “Come on, I think you’ll like these little guys.” He waved me back over to the other side of the pasture so I jumped the creek, joining them. “Did you seriously think some horses were going to roll up on you gangster style, hanging out of their hooptie and start shooting at you?” he mused.
I shrugged. “I learned a long time ago to never rule anything out.”
“You’re a weird girl,” he informed me, shaking his head. “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said as we walked towards the end of the property where some small horses were jumping and playing in the evening sun, “did you, Mc Creepy and Creepier go to the same barber?”
I nervously ran my hands through my super short hair and shrugged. “It was to the top of my ass two weeks ago, but there was a really bad lice outbreak at the halfway house, and no one would help me go through my hair. I don’t think I had lice, but since no one would help me check, I took the scissors and clippers and chopped and buzzed it all off in the bathroom. I don’t think it looks that bad. Mr. Smith called it a pixie inspired do, which I guess is cool. It’s helluva easier to maintain than my long hair. Eventually I’ll grow it back out, but I’m kind of enjoying the easy maintenance thing right now,” I said with a shrug.
I miss my long hair, but that’s because I would twirl a lock of hair around my fingers when I was bored, nervous or whatever, and now I don’t have that. Yes, it totally is a boy’s haircut. And now that Shep mentions it, it does match the silent twins’ haircuts, but it looks slightly different with my white blonde hair so that’s good. If I wasn’t as skinny as I am, and my face being oblong instead of round like my mom’s face, I would look fat as hell with this crap haircut. Thankfully I can pull it off, at least that’s what I’ve been telling myself. If I dwell on it, I get upset and start to tear up. It’s only hair, and it will grow back thus it isn’t the end of the world, and it isn’t as if I’m horribly disfigured now that my hair’s gone. I’m stylish and modern.
Sure, let’s go with that.
“It’s okay, Price,” I said when I looked over at him. “It’s just hair. Think of it as a new look for a new home and family.”
Price nodded and the fires of anger that were burning behind his clear brown eyes subsided, and he forced a smile. “Last spring we had some foals, take a look,” he said, motioning with his chin.
Somehow, we were suddenly standing in the middle of the north pasture and were surrounded by galloping and playing small horses, and some of the larger ones were walking right up to Price and the others.
These things are huge!
They don’t look that tall from the distance.
Are the ones in the closer pastures midgets or something?
I don’t know! They can’t be this big, can they?
“Oh shit. Price!” I whispered. “One is coming over to me, what do I do?”
He chuckled. “Don’t be scared. Animals can sense fear.”
“Urban legend,” I harshly whispered, and he laughed again. “Seriously, what do I do?”
“Relax. In horses, visual and auditory stimuli play a strong role in triggering behavioral responses, so if you are relaxed they won’t do anything to you. Trust the horse. And for the love of God, Mikhail, don’t punch any of them. Most are babies!” Price shook his head, overly amused at my discomfort.
It’s a baby. It isn’t going to eat me. Horses are vegetarians.
It’d be our lack of
luck the fuckers have fangs and a taste for city girls!
Shut up.
“Nice Equus ferus caballus,” I cooed, and Shep laughed. “Shut up, Blondie.”
“You’re one to talk, Mikey!” He retorted with a smirk, petting the head of the mountain sized brown horse in front of him. “Just pet him. That’s Pablo, he won’t bite...much.”
“Asshole,” I hissed, turning my attention to the pure black horse in front of me, his head tilting to the side. “Hello... I mean hola, Pablo, como estas?” I asked.
One would think the loud laughter from two of my four companions would have scared the horses off, but it didn’t. They seemed completely at ease around everyone.
“He doesn’t speak Spanish, or English for that matter!” Shep choked between bouts of laughter. “He’s a horse.”
“Whatever.” I struggled to ignore him.
Pablo knocked his head into my hip, pushing me.
Pushy little bastard.
They said to trust the horses, so I let him push me around the pasture. Before I realized it, we were broken off from the group and getting closer to the red corral fencing than I would like.
“Okay, let’s go back to the others,” I said.
Pablo shook his head and pawed at the ground.
“I don’t speak horse, and my Spanish isn’t child friendly,” I apologized.
Seriously?! You’re apologizing to a goddamn horse now? You’ve lost it!
I started to turn back, leaving the stubborn horse to fend for himself, when the giggling of a child floated on the breeze. I spun around to face the woods, following the sound. The thick trees created a wall of brown and green, and I tried to shade the glare from the setting sun with my hand, but it offered very little help.
“Stupid fresh air,” I mumbled under my breath and started to turn around.
“I want to play,” a little girl begged.
I looked around, confused.
The others were with the horses, checking out some of the smaller ones and Pablo was gone, back with the others.
Chicken shit…wait, how did he get back over there so fast?
“Hello?” I called out.
“Come play with me,” she pleaded then giggled again.
The last rays of sun were disappearing behind the mountains, painting the sky in a mixture of sherbet-based colors. The snapping of twigs to the left pulled my attention, and a blur of movement on the right caused my head to snap that direction.
“Do you not want to play with me?” she asked in a singsong tone.
What in the...
“No,” I answered honestly.
“Why not?” she pouted.
The thicket of trees separated and the tree trunks bowed without complaint, revealing an inviting worn dirt footpath leading into the woods.
“See, it is not scary. We will have so much fun!” she said.
Yeah, not happening.
“Who are you?” I asked for some reason.
“Dandy,” she said with a giggle, as if that should have registered with me somehow. “I got lost, and I just want to go home. Will you help me find my home?” she sniveled. “Please?”
A light shone down on the path on the other side of the protective fencing, illuminating the forest and making it inviting and surreal. Thick leafy branches created a canopy in various shades of green, and the blanketing moss sparkled with dew, the light hitting each drop making them look like little diamonds sprinkled on the milk chocolate colored bark of each tree. Birds were singing from their branches, and squirrels scurried up their trunks like twisting barber poles. Flowers broke out from the compacted earth bordering the footpath, their stalks corkscrewing and stretching towards the light and their blossoms bursting one by one, reminding me of a wave of rolling purple and white petals. Pollen and dust motes danced in the rays of light, turning them a warm golden color of summer. And as if to sell it, a deer leisurely strolled across the path never paying me any attention.
“See!” the little girl said, suddenly appearing in the shadows at the back of the footpath: ivory skin, round rosy cheeks, long blonde hair spilling over her shoulders, light blue dress with white ruffles, polished black shoes, and a black ribbon in her hair. “It is not scary,” she said in a singsong tone.
This little bitch is crazy.
“Are you going to kill me?” I asked pointblank; it wouldn’t be the first time.
The little girl’s head tilted to the side. “Why would I do that? I want to play,” Dandy said then held her hand out towards me. “I am so scared,” she whimpered, her bottom lip pouting outward.
A little white girl lost in the woods. How cliché.
I know, right?
“Um, no,” I regrettably informed her.
“Why not?” she demanded, and her face flickered from the ivory of the child to gray and black with sunken cheeks, black hallowed pits for eyes, and thick black liquid dripping from her mouth and down her chin.
That’s why.
For only a fraction of a second, the child wasn’t there, something else was and that something wanted to kill me. And as quickly as it was there, it was gone again, and the ivory-skinned child stood there looking at me with large doe eyes, her bottom lip quivering.
“Please? I am so scared,” she begged.
“I’d rather not,” I informed her and started to turn away.
“Why not?” she snarled, her words coming out with a greenish puff past her lips, and it stopped me in mid-step.
The light disappeared and the flowers turned black, withering and slumping over. A creeping layer of frost consumed the trees, snaking up each trunk, turning the canopy of green into a deadly sheet of black ice.
“Because I’m not stupid,” I said, flipping her off, and turned around to join the others.
When I did, something grabbed me, and I cried out in surprise. And before I could do anything, my feet were out from under me and my back was slamming against the hard ground and I couldn’t breathe.
Chapter Eight
Keep it in the Past
I choked and gasped, trying to catch my breath, and my vision was flooded with flashes of light and swam with moisture.
When it cleared, I was looking up at Cujo. Her ridiculously large and heavy body was stretched out along the length of mine. A deep, menacing, snarl of a growl rolled from her chest, vibrating her entire body, and her large black eyes narrowed, her attention on the woods.
Where in the hell did she come from?
I don’t know. I left her sleeping under the table after I snuck her at least two pounds of roast at dinner.
For a dog the size of a small cow, with no grace or agility, she moves with the stealth of a ninja with stank ass breath.
“Mikhail!” Shep cried out, followed by Price’s frantic yelling.
Men are such hysterical little girls when anything remotely life threatening, and most crap that’s as insignificant as a paper cut, happens.
“Cracka’ down!” I called out, waving from under the massive animal. “Cracka’ down!”
Four worried faces eclipsed my partial view of the sky, and I smiled at them.
“What happened?” Price demanded.
I groaned, trying to push Cujo off me. “My little friend wanted to play mutant lap dog,” I said with a shrug.
There’s no way in hell I’m telling them that I’m completely bat shit crazy and that for as long as I can remember I’ve seen stuff that no one else sees.
That isn’t entirely true. The crazy crackhead cat lady that roams between 11th and 12th off Huntingdon, by the Salvation Army, saw stuff that we couldn’t even begin to understand or see.
No shit. And when I had a lapse in better judgment, and was stupid enough to try to talk to her about it… Oh my god, never again.
The bitch threw three cats at us! Seriously, she threw some honest to god cats!
I think one was dead and a bit ripe…
That isn’t important. What’s important from the assault via cat
incident is that people will think you’re crazy and you’ll never redeem yourself from that, even if it’s a passing, temporary psychosis.
True.
Will I tell Price and everyone else that I see freaky horror movie crap?
No.
Will I pretend that everything’s okay?
Yes.
Will I have jacked up nightmares for a few days over this?
How in the hell would you know?
True.
It is what it is, and I can only blame Mom for smoking crack while pregnant, not that I can confirm that she did, but it reminds me of something that bitch would have done.
“Did you see something?” Price demanded.
That’s a weird thing to ask.
No shit. Can he read minds?
Oh that would suck so bad.
I started to tell him no but stopped; I promised that I’d never lie to him.
Why did you do that?
Screw these damn moments of having a conscience, ugh! I seriously need to flip this switch in my head off or whatever it is because this isn’t normal for me, and I don’t like it.
It wasn’t me this time.
Even if it’s a temporary moment of conscience, I can’t bring myself to lie to him.
Pussy.
Looking in his worried eyes, those big brown eyes that are saddened, which is a first for anyone when it pertained to me, made me feel like crap and sad because I was making him feel bad…
The goddamn conscience of Mikhail strikes again!
But behind those saddened eyes are burning fires of murderous rage that are threatening to take him over at any moment.
“Price, I saw the woods and, well, like I tried to explain yesterday, the woods freak me out, especially the forests of Big Sky, Montana!” I said, trying to be nonchalant.
