“Not much,” I said as I took sips from my coffee.
Cherrie finished prepping the coffee and had a seat across from me.
I took a look out the window. It was drizzling, maybe even sleeting. I was in for another wet-bottom day.
“Well, he must have said something,” Cherrie said, “to get you to buy the beanie.” She pointed to my head.
“What makes you think I bought it from him?”
Cherrie gave me the don’t-kid-a-kidder look.
“Well, he was nice. And he picked this one out of the bunch.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” Cherrie flicked her fingers as if guiding me forward. “Keep it coming.”
“What do you want me to tell you?”
“Everything,” Cherrie said. “But wait.” She held up her hand in stop sign fashion. “Let me grab my coffee. I want to see your face when you spill it.”
I waited while Cherrie poured a cup of coffee. I was glad she wasn’t one to doctor it with sugar, half and half, and such. The caffeine worked its way into my blood stream. I came alive and was more than ready to talk about Aaron.
“You want a refill?” Cherrie asked.
“No. Thanks. Can’t drink it. Too bitter.”
“Okay. So tell me. How’d it go?”
“He was nice...”
“You said that already.”
“He’s gorgeous.”
“This we already know.”
“But even more so up close. He is just so perfect in so many ways. It’s hard to describe.”
“Go ahead. I can take a dose of icky-sweet with my coffee. I’ll forego the cinnamon roll.”
“His eyes draw you into him. I could look at them all day long and never be bored. They speak volumes. It’s just the way the light shines in them. They’re always changing.”
“Don’t think that is such a good thing.”
“Why?”
“Shifty eyes.”
“I didn’t say shifty.”
“Well, that’s what it sounds like.”
“Do you want to hear this or not?”
Cherrie picked up her mug, and with the same motion I had seen her perform when she was steeling herself with a shot of hard liquor, she downed the coffee. She set the cup down, leaned back in her chair, and said, “Give it to me.”
“He’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of having in a boy. Tall. Handsome. Kind.”
“Explain kind, because,” Cherrie said, narrowing her eyes, “from what I know being unsociable isn’t a trait of kindness.”
“I’m not finding him unsociable.”
“But he keeps running away along with his two book-ends.”
“He didn’t last night.”
“Well, that’s a change for the better.”
“I think he’s different when he is by himself.”
“You mean without the book-ends.”
“And Bernard.”
“Aren’t we all when we’re not around authority? By the way, where’s your mom?”
I handed Cherrie the note.
“So who’s the client?”
I could hear sinister overtones in her voice.
“I don’t know.”
“He must pay good to have her stay overnight.”
“Who says it’s a he?”
Cherrie shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe she figures if you are going to have a love-fest than she can too.”
“Please don’t go there.”
“Well, she obviously has needs.”
“Cherrie!”
“What? We can’t talk about your mom?”
“Not in that way, so please don’t.”
“I won’t if you give up the gooey stuff on Aaron.”
“We talked. That’s all.”
“Did you tell him about your theory?”
“What theory?”
“That he’s a super being, a Leprechaun.”
“I didn’t say Leprechaun, I said Lemurian.”
“Whatever. What’d he say?”
“That’s not something we discussed.”
“You didn’t talk about Shasta?”
“Yes, we did.” I pulled the beanie from my head. “We talked about wave-clouds.”
As I said this I pointed to the design on the hat.
Cherrie looked skeptical. “Wave-clouds?”
“Yes. Aaron said they’re rare and they’re caused by two different layers of air moving at different speeds and in opposite directions which cause friction.”
“That’s it? You guys just talked about hats and wave clouds. Nothing else?”
It wasn’t like Cherrie to probe so deep, especially on something so trivial. Her intensity started to bother me.
“What’s up, Cherrie? Why the drill?”
“Oh, nothing. Just thought you might want to share.”
“You’re acting strange, even by your standards.”
“How so?”
“For one, you’re out of bed before ten. You never come over here and you show up at my door drilling me like a detective in the hunt for a murder suspect.”
“Just thought you’d like to have some girl talk after your,” Cherrie held up two fingers on each hand and clutched them, “date with the golden god-man.”
“Wasn’t a date. This couldn’t have waited until lunch?”
“Not going to school today.”
“That mean you’re not coming over for lunch?”
“No, I got some things I have to take care of.”
“Like what?”
“Things.”
“Oh, I see. I should share, but you don’t have to.”
“You know what? You’re being a witch.”
“Well, what’d you expect? Waking me up this early in the morning?”
“Well you didn’t stop in last night like you promised.”
“I don’t remember telling you I would.”
Cherrie got up and poured another cup of coffee. “Doesn’t matter.” She sat back down. “I’m just concerned for you is all.”
“Why?”
“This infatuation with the Delmons.”
“You mean because I like Aaron.”
“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“I think that’s what so exciting about new relationships, don’t you? The getting to know each other. It’s energizing. You should try it.”
“I’m not talking about your love affair with him.”
I looked at my watch. It was getting late. If I didn’t hurry I’d be late for school. But Cherrie had me on the hook.
“Then what are you talking about?”
“Leprechauns.”
I let out a giggle.
Cherrie’s face didn’t budge.
“You’re serious, aren’t you? You think he’s a Lemurian.”
“I’m not saying he is. I’m not saying he isn’t. What I am saying is, the Delmons are a weird bunch and you would do good to steer clear.”
I sat back in my chair. I was going to be late for school, but school could wait. I needed some answers. It appeared Cherrie was about to deliver them.
“So you agree, Aaron pulled the Lincoln off the side of the mountain and saved our lives.”
Cherrie set her coffee mug down. “What exactly do you know about the Lemurians?”
I had to think about that one for a minute. I had ingested so much information over the course of the last few days it was all balled up in my head.
“Well, from what I’ve read they were an ancient race. Their continent sunk and most of them died.”
“You got that part right. But do you know why their continent sunk?”
I shrugged. Was I supposed to?”
“Because the Lemurians were anarchists.”
“I don’t remember reading anything about that.”
“You wouldn’t because it’s not written. It’s told.”
“By who?”
“My grandfather, for one.”
“So how did them being anarchists cau
se their continent to sink?”
“They were at war.”
“With who?”
“Atlantis.”
I nodded as it came clear to me. “The other ancient civilization.”
“Yes. And the Lemurians were defeated.”
“But some escaped.”
“We believe so.”
“We?”
Cherrie looked a bit flustered, but I couldn’t tell if it was due to the conversation or the three cups of coffee.
“We,” she said, “meaning those who tell the story.”
“So,” I said getting up while checking my watch again, “you think if Aaron is a descendent of Lemuria he is going to try and do what? Overthrow the government?”
Cherrie let out a laugh. “Not at all. You know of their powers.”
“What I read, yes.”
“And what you think you saw?”
“Oh, you mean the,” I tapped my forehead, “bulge.”
“And the strength to lift a car.”
“I didn’t say he lifted the car.”
“Look Julis, I just want you to be cautious is all.”
I checked my watch again. It was half past eight. “I’m late for school.” I grabbed my beanie, jacket, and back pack.
Cherrie got up. “I’ll drive you.”
“That’s okay. By the time you have that clunker warmed up I’ll be there. If I hurry I can make second period.”
Cherrie blocked the door. She took me by the shoulders and held me steady. We locked eyes.
“Julis,” she said, “if nothing else I want you to remember one thing...”
“And that is?”
“…according to the story tellers, Lemurians require mass amounts of energy at critical times. I’m not talking about gasoline or electricity here. I’m talking about the human aura, human energy. Our energy.”
“Can we have this conversation later?” I made a point of checking my watch. “I’m going to be late.”
Cherrie let me go. “Sure. Come by when you get home.”
As I walked down the road I looked over my shoulder. I saw Cherrie heading home, but with an eye peeled toward me. Suddenly I felt the chill of the drizzly morning along with her cold stare. I pulled the collar up on my jacket and the beanie down to my eyes. I could smell Aaron.
My heart warmed.
8 LIVE PIG
As I entered the school grounds, I heard the bell for the end of first period. Bernard stood out front, picking up the before-school-in-session trash. He carried a pail and one of those trash grabbers, which clicked every time he snapped up garbage from the ground. There was a bit of a melody to the way his keys jangled and the synchronization of the snapping of the trash picker. He stepped out in front of me as I walked up the sidewalk.
“Good morning, Miss Grant.”
“Hi, Mr.Delmon.”
I made an attempt to step around Bernard.
He stepped in front of me and cut me off.
“I didn’t get a chance to ask you if you were okay,” Bernard said.
I tried another end around.
He blocked it by poking his trash picker at a gun wrapper.
“You know. Up at Shasta. When you drove off the road. I was concerned you might have been hurt.”
Yeah. Sure.
“Oh, no. I’m okay. We’re okay.”
“Good thing you were driving Garl’s Lincoln. You could back right out of there, huh?”
I could tell by his eyes he was searching for something far more different than what he voiced. He was testing me to see if I knew Aaron had helped us. After seeing Bernard’s reaction to Aaron’s action I thought it best to play dumb.
“Yes. The car’s like a tank, big motor and all. We were fortunate it pulled us out of the ditch.”
I heard the school warning bell go off.
“Sorry, Mr. Delmon. I’m late for class.”
Bernard withdrew the trash picker. He waved it at the front doors. “Of course. Sorry to have kept you. Go. Have a nice day.”
“I made my move for the door.”
“Oh, one more thing, Miss Grant.”
“Yes?”
“That day I had you cleaning lockers you by chance didn’t take anything out of them, did you?”
I was stunned to the point I almost couldn’t answer.
“Absolutely not! Why would I?”
“Didn’t think you would. Just that one of the students is complaining they’re missing their Ipod. A few other things have gone lost also. You know these teenagers. Always losing their stuff.” Bernard held up his trash picker. It clutched a ball point pen. “See. Always losing things. You have a good day.”
“You too.”
I didn’t know what that was all about. But I didn’t like it. I hadn’t stolen anything in my entire life. Well, I take that back.
There was the time we were in Minnesota and my parents took me on a day trip to the head-waters of the Mississippi River. We walked across the mighty Mississippi (thrill!) and then while roaming through the gift shop I took a liking to this Indian girl doll. I walked out of the store without paying for it. I was only six, but I still remember the embarrassment of being marched back into the store and having to turn the doll back over to the store clerk. I never walked out of a store without paying for something again, even if it was but a stick of gum.
Steal? Bernard was barking up the wrong tree. Or was he? Was he barking or growling—warning me of dire repercussions should I continue on the path of building a relationship with Aaron. I felt something sinister about Bernard, in a very subtle sort of way.
Jason ran up beside me as I worked my way through the masses toward Spanish Class.
“Different hat,” he said.
I remembered I still had the maroon, wave-cloud beanie on. I also remembered the rule of no hats to be worn in class. I pulled it from my head and carried it into the classroom. I’m sure, as usual, my hair looked frightful. It didn’t help seeing the three drama queens, Charleen, Sandra, and Brittany, perky and perfectly groomed, already seated with pens and paper in hand. Did they not ever go anywhere without each other?
I suspected not.
I was beginning to feel like the bum who was always late for the party. I needed to go shopping, get some new clothes. Maybe get a haircut or have it styled. None of that seemed appealing. I was who I was. “A natural beauty,” as my father use to say, “born from the earth.” I was blessed with black, thick hair, brown eyes, good complexion, and an okay body. What more could a boy want?
Jason and I took a seat as the final bell sounded. I smiled at Jason knowing he saved me embarrassment at the whim of Mr. Albom, who not only expected you to be seated on time, but to have your “books, eyes, and ears open and ready to receive instruction”
Jason and I hustled to meet his directive.
Tuesday wore on slowly, of course. When you’re in a hurry to get somewhere, time, almost always, seems to slow to a crawl. I was saved from having to dress for my third period class, Phys Ed. Indoor hockey isn’t my specialty. Guess that’s not a bad thing for a Minnesota girl to admit since the North Stars (hockey team) vacated Minnesota some years ago and are now the Dallas Stars.
Ms. Wroblewski, my teacher, pulled me aside and handed me a note. I was to report to the front office. It didn’t take much guessing as to why I was being summoned. Mr. Roberts, the attendance monitor, met me at the door.
“Miss Grant, I see you were absent from first period class.”
“Yes, sorry.”
“Do you have a note from your mother?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“She was out of town last night.”
“Why were you late for school?”
At this point I thought I would have been better off to have played hooky and missed the entire day. But I was reminded why I hadn’t stayed home and played sick. I didn’t want to miss seeing Aaron in Biology.
“I overslept.”
I gave him the be
st excuse I could think of.
“Mom usually gets me up.”
Mr. Roberts adjusted his tie before jotting down a memo in my folder. “Okay. Bring a note from your mother tomorrow.”
“Sure. I will.”
He scribbled a line on my note as to the time I had left the office. Somehow I felt as though I were being held prisoner on someone else’s time clock. As long as Aaron was being held prisoner too and his schedule coincided with mine I didn’t care.
Ms. Wroblewski handed me a clip board to track the scoring of the hockey teams. To my surprise, the drama queens played quite well, given the fact they were primping their hair as much as they were swinging their sticks. It looked like their scoring had as much to do with some of the opposing team’s players stepping aside as it did to the drama queen’s skills at hockey. Could it be some of the opposing team’s players were all about scoring points off the court?
I have more of a creative bent than an analytical mind, so math is not one of my strong points. It’s hard enough to concentrate on numbers without clock watching and thinking of what I was going to say to Aaron in Biology class. I took the maroon beanie out of my back pack, pretended I was wiping my nose with it, and placed it in my lap. Interjecting thoughts of Aaron filled time and, when time was filled it sped up.
All good.
Lunch came and went. Cherrie, as she said, didn’t show. Neither did the Delmons. I sat out on the cold concrete wall and ate my P&J in silence. The clock ground to a near stop.
English went well and fast. The drama queens were in seventh heaven because we were studying Shakespeare’s play, Romeo and Juliet, and this was being done in conjunction with drama class where the play would be reenacted. I imagined all three of the drama queens would kill for the role of Juliet, depending, of course in part, which boy in school landed the role of Romeo. I could only hope to be in the same room when the drama queens battled it out. Would they pick straws? Or bare finger nails?
Shakespeare is a hard read, but I got the gist of his play Romeo and Juliet. What teenage girl doesn’t? Two star crossed lovers whose deaths ultimately unite their feuding families. Falling in love with your beau at the tender young age of thirteen and getting married! I wasn’t sure about the married part, but then I hadn’t met my beau yet, or had I? I looked at the maroon wave-cloud beanie for an answer. It reminded me of the opposite: Two different layers of air moving at different speeds and in opposite directions causing friction. Not what I wanted to hear right now. I tucked the beanie away in my back pack. The bell rang and I hurried off to art class.
Solstice - Of The Heart Page 7
