"Sorry," Amanda whispered. Connie watched her with a blank face. Amanda hurried away, forgetting about the stick.
The afternoon seemed to go on forever as they went over a history lesson, then math, then French. She didn't hear anything Mr. Ammons said because she was too busy remembering the strange stare Connie gave her in the bathroom. Finally, the school bell rang.
Amanda walked fast to the front doors. Lightning crackled as dark storm clouds continued to spread across the sky. The rain was coming down harder than before. Along the pathway, deep potholes bubbled with water and thick mud.
"Look! She's trying to get away!" someone called out from behind her. "If only she could fly!" another voice shouted.
Amanda moved faster, slid into a puddle, and fell to her knees. Laughter rose up, sounding like a deep, eerie sound through the lightning-riddled downpour. "Nice try! If only she could fly!" Shane's voice. "Hey, good one. It rhymed," someone else snickered.
Amanda picked herself up, her arms still wrapped around her books, though now the paperbacks were saturated with water. She turned, but Shane and his buddies were already gone, their laughter echoing from far away.
Chapter Three
When Amanda stepped inside her house, the first thing she noticed were Jane's legs kicked up on the coffee table. Some kind of music seeped from the speakers, probably punk rock since that was Jane's favorite. It was so loud that when Amanda accidentally dropped her books on the table, the impact made no sound. Jane was nodding her head to the music. She barely glanced at her sister.
Back in her bedroom, Amanda retrieved her backpack, but when she tried to open it, the zipper got stuck. She noticed some of the teeth had broken off in two places.
"Oh, no." Reluctantly, she returned to the living room. "Jane, I need a new backpack."
"I can't hear you." She continued bobbing her head to the beat. Amanda motioned to the books.
"I need a new backpack!" she shouted over the music.
She shrugged. "We don't have any money."
"But you just went to the movies.”
"Do I have to add another complaint?" Jane dropped her feet from the table.
Amanda picked up her books and backed away from the table. "Jane, my books are too heavy," she protested.
"Dad put me in charge, which means no questioning authority." She glared at Amanda, her dark blue eyes gleaming like cold flames. Amanda stood there for a moment, not knowing what to do.
Jane got up from the couch, made her way over to the stereo, and flipped the volume up, way up, until the music eventually blocked all other sounds. Without looking at her sister, Jane went back to her original place on the couch and continued shaking her head to the music. Amanda suddenly felt cold as she went to her room.
She put her books aside and moved to her dresser as if in a dream. The papers of her story were a clutter. Had Jane been reading it? The top sheet caught her attention. She peeled it off the pile and read to herself out loud. “There once was a girl who wandered into the forest. The bears were her friends and there were three altogether. There was a—”
Jane burst in.
"Dad's gonna be out of town for another week. And he's not happy."
"Because he has to stay longer?"
"With what I told him about you." The air grew still, heavy with the cast-iron certainty of Jane's annoyance toward Amanda. Jane spoke the word you as if it were the most detestable word in the world.
"What did you say to him?" Amanda could barely utter the words. She thought she had done everything her sister had asked her to do. But Jane could always find something she did wrong. Ever since her freshman year, the distance between them had grown. After their mom died, Jane had become. . .unfair.
"How I have had to repeat myself."
"But I did the dishes—"
"Be ready for some major discipline. You think I've been hard on you, just wait." She left the room. Amanda bit her lip, doing all she could to keep herself from crying. If Jane knew she was crying, she would be in even more trouble.
Going to her closet, she pulled a burgundy Victorian-style gown off a hanger. It was last year's Christmas present from her mom, a costume piece for her to play dress up in as she wrote her stories. She hadn't worn it since her mom died, so she put it on and peeped into the mirror hanging on the back of her door. Instantly, she felt closer to her mom, but she also felt like a magical character in one of her fantasy stories. A smile spread brightly across her face.
She moved back to the typewriter, resting her fingers over the keys. The clacking sound slowly began as she returned to typing:“…a mama bear and her two cubs. The three of them looked at the girl with happy faces. These weren't ordinary bears as you can see, for when they smiled, they looked happy, not scary like other bears.”
The blaring noise of the music from the living room interfered with her thoughts. Amanda pulled out the paper, crumpled it, and threw it to the ground. From her bed, she stared longingly at the stuffed animals displayed on the shelves that wrapped around her room.
She reached over and picked up a stuffed bear, leaned down to pick up the crumpled paper, and unfolded it. She looked from the paper to the bear and back to the paper. She dropped the paper again and the bear, too, as she rose from the bed to gaze at the photograph of her mother twirling to the sound of beautiful music. Amanda cried quietly now, the tears could not be stopped, and she didn't care as she rested her head on the nightstand. The music covered the sound of her pain anyway.
The next day, it was raining again as Amanda walked herself to school. She hugged her books to her chest, covering them with her silver raincoat. The forecast had called for light steady rain, so she hadn't brought an umbrella. Unfortunately for her, the rain fell down in sheets so thick she could hardly see beyond a few inches in front of her. The thunder boomed so loudly it seemed to be only a few feet away. With each grumble of the storm, she jumped, wishing Jane would drive her to school. But Jane had just gotten her license and had made it clear she wasn't a chauffeur.
As she drew closer to the school's entrance, luxury cars began pulling up to the curb. A number of her classmates were waving good-bye to their families. Amanda ducked her head away from the rushing rain that seemed to slice into her cheeks, hurrying up the stairs of the twin front doors.
Inside the classroom, Mr. Ammons was busy at the chalkboard writing equations, the daily homework due, and an upcoming quiz date. Rain droplets pillowed in her eyes so that the writing on the board all blurred into an indecipherable scribble. Amanda quickly got to her seat, shaking off her raincoat and pulling out a notepad and pencil.
She looked back at the board and blinked several times until the chalky writing was finally legible. Mr. Ammons finished his notations and then gradually faced the class. His shoulders were slumped and his lips were pursed as he tapped his pencil against the desk. His next words were spoken very slowly, very gravely. "Many of you have failed to turn in your topic sentences." He glanced around the room, letting his eyes rest on specific people before continuing. "Revisions are due next week."
"Mr. Ammons, my dog ate my homework." Shane pretended to whine. Laughter hit the roof, though most of it stayed muffled, the students fearing their teacher's reprimand. But Mr. Ammons ignored the other kids, his focus solely on Shane.
"Mr. Smith," he said precisely. It wasn't a good sign when he called them by their last name. "Your misplaced humor is hurting your chances for success, and if continued, will be your primary downfall."
All the laughter stopped. Shane bit his lip. Quietly, Shane mumbled, "Sorry, Mr. Ammons."
Mr. Ammons continued his discussion as if it hadn't been interrupted. "How many of those topic sentences can I expect to see tomorrow?" All the students raised their hands, almost simultaneously. No one wanted to upset Mr. Ammons. He nodded. "Excellent. Now that we have that out of the way, get out your math books and turn to page thirty-seven."
Amanda had just flipped to the assigned page when somebody jerke
d the book out of her hands. Shane had a sad look on his face. "I left my book at home, and if I get into any more trouble I'll have to go to the principal's office." Then his tone changed into something more threatening. "You don't want that to happen, do you?" His eyes bore into hers.
Everyone else was too busy searching through their books. Shane's glare continued to burn into her. She quickly nodded her head. Smiling with pleasure, he turned back around in his seat to toss through the pages as though it were his own book.
Mr. Ammons had written three problems on the board. Gina called out, "That's 1/4." He was pleased. "Yes, Gina. Very good." He tapped the next problem on the board with a ruler. "Amanda?"
She swallowed. "1/2?"
"Amanda, where's your book?" She opened her mouth, but Shane jerked his leg back to kick her.
"I guess I forgot it."
Mr. Ammons's face fell. He had never looked at her like that before. It seemed like several minutes went by before he called on someone else. She stared down at the pencil in her hand, her eyes so closed in on it that she no longer heard her teacher or her classmates or the sound of pages turning as he directed them to another chapter.
The bell rang, but Amanda didn't realize it until she saw the other students shuffling out of their seats. The hallway was filled with students chattering to one another, some dashing past the classroom doors, their sneakers screeching across the tiles. Shane bumped into Amanda, tossed her book to her, then winked as he darted away.
Amanda balanced the books in her arms as she walked down to the bathroom. Just as she was about to open the door, Darla came out. She was a tall quiet girl with sharp green eyes that could freeze a person's soul. Most people stayed away from her out of fear.
She immediately stopped and stared at Amanda, who tried to move, but felt pinned by the girl's stare. Students continued running by or gathering to talk in groups, oblivious to the awkward space between Amanda and Darla; or maybe they were just used to it. Even the teachers strode by as if everything were in order, like this was just another insignificant day.
Finally, Darla broke her stare and walked away. Amanda quickly headed in the opposite direction, forgetting about the bathroom and realizing she had stopped breathing. She let out a gasp, looking around her to see everyone busy talking or laughing or doing something that they didn't even notice her. The noise of the other kids only amplified her thoughts of loneliness. As she made her way down the hall to the exit, their chatter echoed off the walls, following her every step.
Amanda headed down the front steps of the school and onto the sidewalk, away from the other students. A few of them were gathered outside, bundled in tight-knit groups and huddled beneath umbrellas.
The rain was lightly coming down and the thunder stopped. Amanda stared down at her fingers, which were pinched from the pressure of the books. She had squeezed the books so hard when she nearly ran into Darla that they had left a red imprint on the inside of her palm.
More fifth graders poured out of the building and ran to the waiting cars parked at the curb. They all carried backpacks. She hoped Daddy would come home soon so he could buy her a new backpack. The rain pattered against her cheeks, soaking her hair within seconds. The other kids went by her, their umbrellas bobbing above their heads like rain hats as if they had better sense than to listen to the weatherman. She squeezed her shoulders inward, trying to keep warm as she pressed forward down the sidewalk.
Before long, the voices faded behind her and she was once more alone in this world, until she heard a distant shouting. She stopped. The voice was the same fragile, hard-to-locate voice as before. "Help me!"
Where was it coming from? Behind her?
"Please help me!" The voice sounded more urgent this time. Amanda froze at first, but slowly turned toward the forest. She frowned, still unsure where the voice was coming from. But a new sound emerged, something like a shuffling behind her. She quickly jerked around.
"What is that?" she found herself saying as she tried to see through the curtain of rain. Someone smashed into her, knocking her to the sidewalk. It was Shane. He was cackling at her as her books spilled into a frenzied pile on the ground.
"Talking to yourself again, huh? Sorry to interrupt!" His mouth broke into a huge grin as he closed his lips and blew air into his cheeks, pretending like he was trying not to laugh. Then he poked his cheeks with his fingers, making a farting noise, snickering as he skipped away.
Amanda slowly retrieved her books and rose to a stand. She was shivering now, her hair completely matted against her face. Water dripped from the sleeves of her shirt, forming deep puddles in the grass to her left. The forest. She moved in that direction. And then she heard the voice once more.
"Over here," it called. Amanda wandered closer to the forest, and noticed that the nearer she got to it, the lighter the rain fell. The clouds were starting to disperse. She stopped, curious about the sudden change. The rain continued falling down behind her just as before, but here, in this grassy spot, it was only sprinkling.
She found herself holding her breath again and had to remind herself to breathe. Her little heart was pin-balling all around inside. What was going on? Something bright caused her to blink. A light was shining down into the trees. But when she peered into the sky, she couldn't find the sun anywhere.
Amanda cautiously moved toward the edge of the woods. The leaves of the trees glimmered like a cluster of emeralds. There appeared to be no opening into the forest.
"Right by that patch of grass," the voice said softly. Amanda set her books down and continued cautiously toward the grass.
"Watch out!" the low voice screamed as loud as it could. Amanda nearly stumbled backward as the voice suddenly sounded much closer. Something moved beneath the undergrowth and she stooped for a closer look. A small area of grass had been pushed back into a perfectly shaped circle. It was hard to see it at first, but then the shimmering from above threw light down upon it, revealing a tiny sliver of a dull gold-colored pebble.
"Help me."
Amanda jumped back in alarm. "Oh no!" She hid her face inside her hands, but peeked through. Chrome-colored clouds started to form overhead again, casting an odd glow onto the pebble. It twinkled like a splash of lightning. Amanda peered through her fingers in disbelief.
As if to confirm it was alive and to dismiss any doubts she may have had about its existence, the gold pebble said, "I'm real."
Thunder grumbled. Amanda screamed. Startled both by the sky's sudden growl and a talking pebble, she snatched up her books, running as fast as she could out of the forest.
Chapter Four
Amanda stared at the stack of typed papers sitting on top of her dresser. “There once was a girl who wandered into the forest. The bears were her friends and there were three altogether.” A heavy-duty typewriter sat a few feet away beside a stack of blank paper. Spooling a sheet into the typewriter, she typed THE GOLD.
Through the window, the massive shape of the woods eschewed the light, unlike all the other woods that would fill with light, blackening as if it were a giant container of darkness. Amanda began to type: “There once was a girl who wandered into the forest. There was only darkness there, even though the sun shone overhead.”
"Is your homework done?" Her sister's voice entered the room behind her.
Amanda ripped out the page and stuffed it in the stack of papers inside her dresser. She picked up one of her schoolbooks, flipping it open on her bed. Jane came into the room, smacking her lips as she chewed on a piece of bubble gum, her hands on her hips. "What were you just doing in here?"
"Typing."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"If your homework's not done within an hour, I'm telling Dad." Jane walked over to the dresser and opened the drawer. She pulled out the papers. "Is this 'nothing'? Why are you hiding this?" She started to read. "There once was a—"
"Please don't read it," Amanda begged. "I'm not ready. It's not finished."
Jane didn
't care. She just shrugged, stuffed the papers back in the dresser, and lingered in the doorway. “An hour," she warned before taking off.
Relieved her story hadn't been fully read and that Jane had left, she began to read from her history book. History was one of her favorite subjects. She enjoyed learning about America's culture and the lives of the people one hundred, even two hundred, years ago.
Evening soon arrived. She looked longingly at her typewriter on which she had spent days and weeks creating alternate worlds about talking animals, about things that couldn't possibly happen. Fantasy stories. But what had happened after school had been real, even though it couldn't possibly be. If she told anyone, they would only laugh at her as they always did. Or maybe they would send her off to a special school far, far away. Little pebbles couldn't talk, she knew that. But it had talked. And light didn't just shine into the forest without any source, but it had.
The moon outside her window blazed through the swiftly moving black clouds. A single star seemingly just a few feet away from the moon sparkled big and bright, blinking at her as if to say the scene in the forest was not her imagination. Thinking about all this became too much even for Amanda's imagination, and she quickly fell into a deep sleep.
The next morning, hard rock music banged from the living room. Amanda jerked awake. Disoriented, she wandered down the hallway. Chuckling and squealing poured from the living room as she rounded the corner. Jane and her boyfriend, Westen, were rolling around on the couch. Empty beer bottles were scattered across the floor. A crumpled bag of chips was stuffed under the couch. Amanda held her breath. She had never seen Jane drinking before, and she stood there glued to the floor. Suddenly the air in the room became thick. Amanda could feel it prickle across her arms. They stopped moving and Jane looked right at her.
The Gold Page 2
