NaNoWriMo ’11 (Part 1)

It’s that time of year again! NaNoWriMo is in full swing, and I thought I might not do it this year, but I like being forced to focus on one story. Maybe one year I’ll do it with a story already in progress, just so I can make myself finish it. Anyway, I had a few ideas lined up this year, but in the end I went with something I’ve actually been doodling for quite a while. This is the first time the characters have been given names, and the first time I’ve implemented a plot, but I’m actually quite pleased with it so far. Eventually I’m going to doodle up a little icon to go with it, since I’m also posting it at my DA, and it still doesn’t have a title. I’ll let you know when that changes.

Add me over at NaNoWriMo! Let’s be friends!

Kim had always thought of her life as normal.

She admitted that she’d been off to sort of a strange start. Her mother was a Chinese woman who had lived in the UK for most of her life, and her father was a Haitian vodun priest. They’d met on a cruise. Not long after, they’d gotten married and had her, though she thought maybe not in that order. All three of them had continued living in Leeds, until just about now. Her mother had been working as a museum curator, but now she had been invited to work for a Professor Aremana, a collector of rare and valuable artifacts. This was all well and good, but it meant being uprooted to a small city in New Hampshire, which was a bit of a culture shock. It wasn’t the middle of nowhere boondocks, sure, but there wasn’t an inch of public transport, and none of the buildings were above four stories high. She felt confined to this little bubble, made more unbearable that she was attending the only private school in the actual city. It was particularly strange since none of her family was Catholic. Maybe her mother just wanted her to have the best schooling.

All of this was how Kim ended up in the soft blue uniform on a particularly warm August morning. It was the first day of classes for everyone, which meant she wasn’t entirely alone in being a newcomer. The uniform–a white button up shirt beneath a blue sweater, a blue plaid skirt dropping just below the knee with high socks–made her slightly uncomfortable. She picked at the hem of the skirt for a long time, until her mother pushed her hand away.

“I heard public school’s nice,” Kim said. “And then you wouldn’t have to pay for the uniform.”

Her mother shook her head. “Darling, I know this is hard on you. At least try to make friends.”

Her father was working and could therefore not be disturbed. She kissed him on the cheek anyway, saying goodbye to his favored skull as she left the house. It bore the same markings that were tattooed onto his face down his neck. She’d never completely understood what they were for, and when she’d asked he’d gone on and on about something mystical. She wondered if by sake of being magic, they were already engraved into his bones. It was on a long list of questions she’d ask one day. Right now, she and her mum got into the small car they were renting until a permanent replacement could be found, and they headed off to St. Anne’s. It was on the edge of town, where there stopped being civilization and started being grass and highways. Kim’s mother smiled at her proudly.

“You’ll be good?” she asked.

Kim nodded. “Probably.”

“Do you know how to get to the gallery?”

She nodded again. From the school to the house was a long walk, but from the school to the gallery where her mother was working wasn’t nearly as bad. If she liked, she could remain there until her mother was free, or otherwise she could rest there a moment and continue the walk home. She hoped to make friends who wouldn’t mind giving her a ride, but for now this was an appropriate proposal.

Kim removed herself from the car, waved goodbye, and then turned to face her new high school. All of it was a little strange to her. The American school system and the British school system were close enough that she could understand what she was supposed to do, but far enough removed that she felt frustrated by it. She’d hoped to attend university anyway, and now she just had to wait to graduate from this hellish place. The Catholics disguised it well. The whole building was made to look like a church, the soft yellow stone giving way to yellow pillars, and dark brown steeples made up the pointed roof. There was a chapel to the side, large stained glass windows looming out, the eyes of long dead saints watching her. She hadn’t been raised Christian, but she could pick up on some of the stories. The Virgin Mary appeared to be a big dang deal.

There were other students milling around as well. Large groups of girls looked up at her, cliques separated off into their circles. Kim felt more and more like a lonely gazelle in a field of lions. One girl attempted to be friendly and smiled at her, but dealing with people was not in her repertoire, and she promptly went stiff and tried her best not to scowl. There were boys as well, looking much more comfortable in the dark navy pants. They milled around with each other and occasionally with the girls. She heard a few peals of obnoxious laughter, and some loud trash talk from a corner of boys. For the most part, it appeared she would have no compatriots already assimilated into a group. That was disappointing. Kim had always had a hard time making friends; she’d only left two behind, and they were her greatest. She thought briefly about texting Ashley, but rates overseas were ridiculous. She’d have to wait until tonight, when they could be online at the same time.

Bells tolled from somewhere along the rooftops, and slowly all the students made their way inside. There were two separate classrooms for grade 11, and she was in class 11A. The town so far had been comprised mostly of the upper class whites, and the school was reflecting in that, but she was surprised to see a number of Indian girls also seated in the classroom. They mostly sat amongst themselves, talking quietly. There was one Indian girl sitting all the way in the back, her arms crossed as she tried to look nonchalant. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, and Kim was intrigued by the earrings she wore. They were little skulls sitting atop flowers. Clearly, she decided, a like minded spirit. She situated herself in the back with her, passing a hesitant smile when she glanced her way. The girl frowned, then uncrossed her arms, leaning forward.

“I haven’t seen you before,” she said.

“Nope,” Kim said, pleased she hadn’t had to initiate conversation. “Just moved here.”

She would never really get used to the faces people made when they realized she had an accent. Most were very excited. Indeed, some of the students near them were turning around, suddenly interested in their conversation.

“Are you from Britain?” someone asked.

Kim nodded. “Leeds.”

“That’s so cool,” someone else cooed.

“How long have you been in town?” the girl asked, running her fingers through her hair. It was sleek, pulled back into a ponytail, a sharp point of bangs hanging out. Kim wondered if she straightened it, because when she’d tried to straighten her enormous poof of hair, it had just sprung back up.

“Only a month,” she replied. She hadn’t exactly been social during that time either. Sitting in her room chatting with Ashley was a much better option decided. It had been a silent protest to the whole arrangement, not that her parents had noticed.

People continued to ask her questions, mostly about what Britain was like, questioning why she’d decided to leave. It obviously wasn’t her choice, and she made it very clear she was planning on returning. Soon the teacher came in, a thin bespectacled man with a very academic looking set of books in his hand. His name was Mr. Sullivan, and he spoke sternly and began the lecture with little introduction. Silently the class pulled out their notebooks and pencils, but Kim couldn’t bother to focus. There were too many things she was missing. Ashley and Thomas by her side would’ve been fantastic, but it was even more than that. Little things, like the familiar backdrop to their campus, the smell of used textbooks and the joy of finding dirty pictures in the margins, even just being in the same building would’ve been a reprieve. Everything here was alien, not entirely removed from her home, but enough that she was unsettled by it. There was little she could do but drift off.

—

Kim found out they had to go to chapel at 10, which she was already dreading as her least favorite part of the day. It went until lunch, and a priest read stories from the Bible. They sat in sections specified for their specific classes, and they spent far too much time kneeling. She was pleased when they got to sit back, and once again she ignored the tired droning of their instructor. She kept her Bible open to look productive, but found herself drawing pictures, something she was sure her teachers wouldn’t appreciate. The Indian girl had sat beside her though, and she leaned over to look at the stick figures she was making of the story they were supposed to be reading. She giggled, a little too loudly, and their teacher cast a dark eye their way. They sat quietly another minute before the girl leaned over.

“I’m Mithra,” she whispered.

“Kim,” she replied back. “How much of this do we have left?”

Mithra surreptitiously checked her phone. “Another half hour I think.”

Kim’s stomach was already growling. She’d skipped breakfast that morning, more of her peaceful protests. Now she regretted it. “At least tell me they have good food.”

She shrugged. “It’s alright I guess. I used to sit with a girl whose parents made her sushi. They moved over the summer though, so now I’m forced to cook for myself.”

“We can forage together.”

After that, they had to stand up for another ten minutes while a prayer was read in Latin, and then after a while of blessing everyone, they finally filed into the cafeteria. Kim was a little shadenfruedistically pleased that Mithra’s lunchtime companion was gone, if only because it meant she could fill the spot. Together they got turkey sandwiches from the lunchline, but the lettuce was so sad they were forced to pick it off. They sat on benches outside since the weather was still warm, and Mithra indulged in a bit of gossip about the people seated around them. The school was actually fairly small, meaning she had known most of these people since sixth grade. It was one of the few pluses to moving, Kim supposed. No one here knew her, and therefore she wouldn’t be boxed into the same behavior that was expected of her. Right now, if she was sitting at the lunch table with Ashley and Thomas, they probably would’ve been mocking anyone in their line of sight. The thought of not eating lunch with her friends saddened her though, and she tried to focus on what Mithra was saying.

“Are you really Catholic?” she asked after their conversation had dwindled.

“Are you not?” Mithra replied. “Why would your parents send you?”

She srugged. “My mum really focuses on schooling, you know. Probably thought private school would mean better school.”

“Weird.”

Kim could only concede to that.

—

After lunch, they all returned to their classrooms, and the lectures continued. An hour was devoted to each subject, and she realized she would be forced to learn Latin as well, which didn’t really bother her. She knew some Chinese and French, the tiniest bit of Creole, and enough German, Welsh, and Sanskrit to get around. Most of that she picked up from being around people who spoke it, so actually learning the structure of a language was new to her. Class let out at 3:30, and she said goodbye to Mithra and began the trek to the gallery.

It took her ten minutes to get to the street, but the gallery itself was nearly impossible to find. She walked up and down until finally she saw nestled in a small side street a little sign that read the Craft Collection. Beneath that, it claimed rare artifacts hunted from all over the world, as well as a phone number and the hours of operation. There were no windows and only a small door, which she entered through and found herself in a pristine office. The white floors were spotless, tall grey filing towers pressed up against the side of the wall. A girl sat at an antique wooden desk, tapping away at an ancient computer. She barely looked up as Kim came in, blowing a huge bubble with her gum and snapping it back into her mouth. She looked about college-aged, maybe not even twenty-one, her dark hair tied back in a bun and thin black framed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Her clothing was modest, but Kim could see the bright pink polka dotted heels underneath the desk.

“Can I help you?” the woman asked in a bored tone.

“I’m looking for my mum,” she said, feeling a little embarrassed just saying it. “She works here.”

The woman blew another bubble, her face disbelieving.

“Hui-ying Zhi?” she pressed.

Still no response.

“I’m just going to… yeah.”

Kim picked the metal door to go through and found herself in a warehouse. She certainly hadn’t expected that. There were tables laid out, filled like a buffet with strange artifacts that were labeled with little cards. Beyond that there were boxes and boxes of storage, hidden away until it was needed. It was surprisingly large; she was certain from outside this had only been a small office. The fluorescent lights were kept low, and she had to be careful not to trip over anything. There seemed to be no order to the objects. A sitar sat beside a wooden mirror, a row of glass balls shared space with a small red book, what looked to be a tooth was kept in a container beside a stick of holly. She could see in the distance her mother, dressed garishly in her bright pink shirt with the floral print. She always looked ever the housewife, her kindly plump frame always dressed modestly with some sort of floral or paisley print. Her hair was kept short in a mom-cut, and the tips curled beneath her chin. It was a comfort to see something familiar, even if Kim felt a little silly when she hugged her in greeting. Her classmates probably expected her to be cooler than this, not that she cared what they thought.

“I’ve still got quite a bit of work to do,” her mother said, ruffling her hair, but Kim ducked away. “If you’d like, you can sit in my office and do homework.”

Kim decided to do just that. The offices were all on the south wall of the warehouse, and she found the one labeled with her mother’s name. Inside was only a small desk and another equally old computer and a few chairs. Throwing her bag down onto one of the chairs, she snuck onto the computer, still logged in. From there she checked her e-mail, and indeed there was quite a long one that Ashley had sent her. She was probably five hours ahead of her, which meant she might still be awake, but there wasn’t a chat client on the computer. She skimmed what Ashely had written her. Apparently she and Thomas were bored out their minds without her, especially since Janet was being a huge bitch to her for some reason, and apparently Taylor and Becky got together, sorry, and she’d gotten this part in a play, and it was going to be fantastic, please come up to see it, Thomas thinks he fancies Nicki, but I told her she was a slag, but whatever, don’t be too bored without us, once you’re cool over there, don’t forget us. Kim smiled at that last part. She began typing in reply, relating how boring everything was here. Class was excruciating without her faithful companions, but she also mention Mithra, a shining light in a sea of sadness. She hoped to send it quickly enough that she may respond in real time, but after a few minutes of refreshing the page, she sighed and logged out. She wondered if she’d be allowed to go and look around, but then again probably not. She didn’t know how strict her mother’s employer was, but he probably wouldn’t enjoy her touching the priceless artifacts.

She found some means to amuse herself until past five, when her mother found her again and said she was ready to go. They returned to the house before it was even six, and they were pleasantly surprised to find her dad had started dinner. It was a rare treat to get her father’s cooking. He’d made a spicy stew with fish and rice, which was probably Kim’s favorite thing in the whole world to eat. She went to put her things away and check if Ashley had messaged her back. There wasn’t one yet, which meant there might not be one until tomorrow, but she was pleased with any contact with her friends. She sent a message to Thomas as well, in case they were hanging out together, but soon she and her family were seated at the dining table, happily sharing in her father’s cooking.

“How was your first day?” he asked her once they were all seated. Despite the years he’d lived in Britain, he’d retained his slightly French accent, though he was more and more prone to slipping out of it. Kim hoped he might keep it forever.

“Alright,” she said. “They make us attend service.”

“It’s just something you’ll have to be used to,” her mother said, shoveling more rice onto her plate. “Did you make any friends?”

“Sort of,” she mumbled as she took more fish. She smiled as the heat from the pepper spread across her tongue. She hoped this would be a regular occurrence, but she knew her father often got lost in his work. She remembered times in her life where he locked himself in his study for weeks.

She helped clean up once dinner was done, and her mother packaged away the leftovers into tupperware.

“But really,” her mother said, trying to find the correct top that was probably still packed in a separate box, “do you like it?”

Kim knew the move was tough on all of them, except perhaps her father, who was happy as long as he had a dark room to work in, but it was a job her mother was very excited about, and school wasn’t so bad. So it was boring and they had church. She could survive.

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s great, mum.”

She tried to pretend she didn’t see the relief in her mother’s eyes.

—

Thomas had messaged her back before he went off to bed. He told her Ashley was completely wrong about Nicki, in that he didn’t like her, not that she wasn’t a slag. Most of his comments were bitchier than usual, and she messaged him back to ask what was wrong. She wouldn’t get a reply until tomorrow, but that was fine. Some sort of contact with her old life was appreciated. She stalked some people online for a little while, creeping on their profiles and seeing what they were up to. It was disappointing to learn the world kept moving if she wasn’t there. She tried to find Mithra, but that wasn’t as easy. Would it make her too much of a creep anyway if she friended her after just meeting her? Probably not, but she turned off her computer and rolled into bed anyway. She tried to think happy thoughts, but mostly she thought about how much she missed home. She’d be used to it soon, her parents had promised, and she tried to imagine being used to small American towns with their picturesque streets and bricks all the same color and bright green trees as if they were trying to prove something. She supposed it’d be alright if she made interesting friends, and maybe her mother would be unhappy with her job and want to move back. Maybe a million other things could happen, but right now she was still stuck here. After a half hour of frustration, she stood up, went to the box she’d buried under closet, and found an old stuffed lamb she’d had since she was five. Her name was Prudence, and at the age of twelve, she’d decided she was too old for stuffed animals. Now, lonely and missing home, she was the perfect companion. Finally she climbed back into bed, clutching Prudence tight, and eventually managed to drift off into sleep.

—

This was how life was lived, more or less. In less than a week, Kim found it easy to fall into the rhythm of wake up, go to school, talk with Mithra, walk to the gallery, go home. She didn’t spend every afternoon with her mother, especially not when Professor Aremana finally appeared. He was a tall man dressed in a nice suit, and he held himself high. His limbs were almost unnaturally long, and his sharp, gaunt face was one of a disapproving librarian. His dark hair was starting to gray in streaks, and he was a cape away from full on Dracula. He’d regarded her with a sneer and made a few pointed remarks to her mother. Kim hated being talked about as if she weren’t there, and so she mostly avoided the place. This seemed to please everyone involved, and she no longer felt like she was tripping over priceless artifacts. The walk home was long, and Mithra was unable to give her a ride due to having tennis practice after school, but her parents had seen to the predicament, and now they were looking at bikes. Not nearly as nice as a car, but Kim was taking everything she could get. Now she spent her afternoons listening to the noises coming from her father’s study, ignoring her homework, and waiting for her friends to be online. They were still exchanging e-mails every day, even when the only thing to talk about was how boring life was. There was something strange going on between the two of her friends, but she thought she might be imagining it, or perhaps it was just the strain of a long distance friendship. The time zones were already starting to get to them, as Kim spent most of her evenings without their companionship, since they had long since gone to bed. They also led active social lives, and since school was starting up for them as well, it meant there was less and less time to talk.

Mithra was doing a very good job of filling the void. She wasn’t a very closed off person, but it was clear she was in a place where past interactions now dictated her behavior. Around some of their classmates she was quiet, introverted, and they saw her as a nerd who studied too hard. She revealed to Kim that she was just naturally gifted, and in areas where her intelligence didn’t reach, she tended to fumble and not understand things clearly. Teasing made it hard for her to interact, and being one of five Indian girls in a very white school also made it hard. Kim could relate to that very easily. Being half-Chinese and black was a rare enough combination that it surprised people, and more often than not one side of her would be ignored. Here the kids seemed enamored enough with her accent that any other aspect of her was also allotted as another part of her interesting personality.

Mithra also enjoyed things like classic rock and ska, which Kim hadn’t really experienced until they shared a set of headphones and just spent a lunch period listening. Her taste in music was more classical thanks mostly to her mother, so Mithra wrote down a list of artists for her to check out. Discovering them had been fun, but her knowledge was still fairly limited.

At the end of the second week of classes, Mithra walked home with her. For once, Kim was pleased her dad was locked away in his study, though there was an unpleasant thumping coming from that direction. When pressed, Kim told her he was a craftsman, which wasn’t entirely untrue. There was also the row of skulls above their fireplace that she explained as one of her dad’s hobbies. Besides the traditional Chinese paintings and the vases that were family heirlooms, there wasn’t much else out of the ordinary. This was because most of it was still in boxes. Kim quickly led her friend up to her room, where she shut the door.

“Your family’s interesting,” Mithra said diplomatically. “What does your mom do?”

Kim explained the gallery to the best of her ability, and Mithra told her that she’d walked past it a few times, believing it to be an art collective. She was intrigued by the thought of ancient artifacts, but Kim had left out their true nature, though that would probably only increase her curiosity.

“Man,” Mithra said, folding her legs against her chest. “Your family is so much better than mine. My dad’s an engineer and my mom works at a bank.”

They continued to chat about trivial things. Mithra had a younger brother who had just entered the school. He was a brat and she loathed him and old in full detail what he’d done to earn her disdain. Kim told her about her friends back home and showed her some of their conversations. Eventually they ended up watching videos online until they heard the door open. Kim got up to greet her mother, Mithra following a short distance behind.

Mrs. Zhi was folding her jacket onto the back of one of the chairs, and she smiled as she saw the girls enter. She and Mithra exchanged greetings, and Kim tried not to be embarrassed by how pleased her mother looked with all this. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t make friends, mum, it’s just that putting out the effort was more than it was worth. She was pleased when she offered them a dinner of McDonald’s and full use of living room if they’d like to watch a movie. The DVDs were still in boxes, and they had fun sorting through them to find something interesting to watch. Between her parents’ strange art films, the monster movies from the 30s and 40s, and the indie flicks Kim loved, they had a tough time but eventually opted on an old silent film. It was ridiculously horrendous and they had no means of following it, but it was still a good time, and Kim was sad to see her friend leave when her parents came to pick her up.

“I’m glad you’re making friends,” Mrs. Zhi said as she replaced the DVDs in their proper order.

Kim rolled her eyes. “I’m not completely hopeless.”

She just smiled, and Kim went up to her room, falling into bed without much fuss. She didn’t even check her e-mail before she nodded off, a first since they’d arrived.

—

Kim went three whole days without response from either Ashley or Thomas. She shouldn’t have felt worried, but she did. They were probably just busy or got caught up in something or maybe just didn’t feel like checking their e-mail, all of which were fine. She was just panicking because she really wanted to talk with them.

Mithra noticed her dolorous demeanor and allowed Kim to complain about it all through lunch. There was little else to complain about. They were now fully thrust into their curriculum, one Kim found tedious and obnoxious but not hard, and chapel every day was an easy nap period. No one was making her say words anymore just to see how she pronounced them, and while their professor was hard on them, he actually turned out to be quite friendly. Mithra said she’d heard horror stories about him, but none of them seemed to be true. Without anything to break the monotony, Kim was forced to wail and moan about her predicament, if only to stir up trouble for herself. Mithra offered the advice she’d already told herself, but she’d smiled and thanked her anyway. Mithra admitted after her friend moved away, they hadn’t talked at all, except an occasional greeting online.

“That’s so depressing,” Kim sighed loudly. “I don’t want to lose my friends.”

“It’s just three days,” Mithra said with a smirk. “There’s probably an e-mail waiting for you by the time you get home.”

But fear of there not being one was what made Kim stop again by the gallery, peeking in to say hello to her mother. She’d learned the name of the girl at the front desk was Hortense, or something equally tragic. She didn’t even bother to stop to talk to her anymore, not that Hortense ever looked up from the computer or her magazine or her nails, depending on her mood that day. There were other workers in the back as well, two men she hadn’t learned the names of yet nor saw very often, but she knew her mum did the majority of the cataloguing and archiving. She was at a table now, copying down classification numbers.

“Hello, dear,” she said in greeting, not looking up from her work. “What a surprise.”

Kim thought this may be a bad time, considering how diligently she was working, but her mum just smiled at her.

“Just got in a new shipment,” she said. “Such interesting articles.”

Kim glanced through some of them. The one her mother was currently focused on was a tiny ceramic egg, and beside that was a Russian doll set. She peered at a few others as well, and she paused in front of large wooden staff. It was old, carved from some ancient dark wood, bent and twisted as well. There were faded carvings on it, a light band across the top with dots going up it, and carved into the base were intricate symbols she didn’t recognize. It was still in a crate, a tiny card taped to the side. Little had been written on it, and it was only referred to as Ancient Staff. There was something about it, something that drew her closer. It must be powerful, because she found her hand reaching out to it without her even noticing. She shook her head and pulled herself away, making a note to avoid it in the future. Professor Aremana would hardly appreciate her touching his things.

“I’ll be late tonight, dear,” her mother said as Kim headed out. “Make sure your father eats something.”

Kim nodded and began the rest of the trek home. She couldn’t quite shake the staff from her head, nor its hypnotizing pull, but she focused instead on the thought of an e-mail waiting for her at home.

—

There was, of course, no such message. Frustrated, she left a message on chat, asking her friends to get online when they could. After a few minutes of waiting around, she went downstairs to reheat leftovers. She knocked on her dad’s door and asked him if he’d eaten. The door never opened, but she got the impression he hadn’t, so she made two plates and knocked again. This time he came to the door, and she offered him the plate. He smiled, patting her on the head, and then disappeared inside again. She ate hers on her bed, refeshing the page every few minutes. Eventually Mithra was on as well, and they chatted for a while. At around eight, a little dinging noise sounded from her laptop, signifying someone was online. She checked and nearly tripped over herself to start typing. Ashley was on. She typed a greeting, but before she could even press enter, she was signed off again. Kim stared at the screen for a full minute, finger still hovering over the enter key. Finally she closed her laptop and went downstairs, hoping to find something to distract her.

She ran into her mother, cooking a microwave dinner for herself. Kim found a yogurt in the fridge, and they sat at the table together, mulling over their respective meals.

“Are you alright, dear?” her mother asked, probably using her psychic mum powers, or maybe she was just sulking.

“Yeah,” Kim said. “It’s just been a while since I’ve talked to my friends.”

“That Mithra girl is very nice.”

“I meant my friends from back home.” She sighed, scraping at the bottom of the container.

Mrs. Zhi nodded sagely. “You’ll talk with them again. I wouldn’t worry.”

Sometimes Kim wondered if her mum really was psychic, but probably not. For a moment, her mind drifted back to the Collection, and she remembered the ancient staff, sitting, waiting for her.

“Mum,” she said, “do you ever–do the objects you work with–do they, I don’t know, react or something? With you?”

Mrs. Zhi contemplated this for a moment, watching her daughter from the corner of her eye. “Occasionally. Those are the ones you have to be careful for.”

Kim nodded. Eventually she stood, dropping her spoon into the dishwasher and tossing out the yogurt container. She kissed her mum good night and went upstairs. She checked her computer again, and this time she was surprised to find an e-mail from Ashley. She was suitably sorry, which Kim was a little pleased about, and apparently she’d joined a football, except Americans probably call it soccer, and it was actually quite fun. Thomas was still doing band, which meant there was absolutely no time between them. The bottom paragraph caught her eye, especially the sheepish way it was written. Ashley had never been shy and never really apologized for anything, but apparently she’d started seeing someone. This caught her off guard even more. If Ashley were seeing someone, she’d be bragging about it. She promised to tell  her more tomorrow, and Kim wrote a short message back demanding details. Feeling better about life, she shut down her computer and curled up in bed.

That night Kim dreamed of a forest whose trees were thick and old, their leaves pulling the branches down heavily. It smelled of nighttime and something else, something dark and sweet and it rose like a vapor all around. A wind shook the branches, and for a brief moment she saw the moon, full and fat and staring down at her until once more it was obscured. There was a tree, bigger and older than any other, its roots thick and far reaching, but it bore no life on it. Not even birds sat in its branches. At its base, twigs sprung up from the ground, and where they were pulled away blood boiled up, thick and red and it smeared everything, coming up like an underground spring, and it was all over her hands and she cried.

Part 2

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