Barbara woke up the next morning to the sound of her radio alarm.
Talk radio, she hated that- not the kind of thing you wanted to hear at
6:30am. She lay in her bed, gazing outside, it was raining- again.
Walking over the window to see if there was any sign of a clear day ahead,
she flipped on her computer. She checked her email first thing in
the morning to see if any of her nightly escapades had won her a friend.
Outside it was gray- darker clouds were swirling in as the sky pebbled
the earth with drops of cold water. Even the power lines stretching
out into the distance looked angry. When it rained they looked irritated
at the fact that they had to stay in that one place their whole lives.
On sunny days they looked proud, standing upright, like strong iron women
holding the weight of the world’s communication on their shoulders.
Not today.
Barbara checked her email and found no one new had written her,
just a couple sweepstakes offers and one sweet forward about “Friends for
Life” from her aunt June. Sure, she thought, but not for long.
She brushed this thought out of her head and quickly got dressed for school.
Her mom would surely be ready soon, and in a hurry as usual.
Barbara’s mom always took her to school. Barbara had always
wished June could take her, but Barbara’s mom insisted. “It’s the
only time I really get to talk to you” her mom had said. What a joke,
thought Barbara, you don’t even talk to me then.
“So… how’s school, honey?” Barbara’s mom asked with a toothy
smile, glancing sideways at her from the driver’s seat.
“Fine mom, just fine. Actually, I got an A on my last math test,
you know- that really hard one I told her about last week? June helped
me study for it, I think that helped a lot.”
“Yes, well, June is a very smart woman. I’m glad she could
help you.” Barbara’s mom said these last words as she dialed someone’s
number into her cell phone.
Yep, that’s about all I can expect, thought Barbara. This
was when she usually just turned her head sideways and watched the road
and occasional street signs go by. Fortunately they lived a little
farther out than the suburbs, and the drive to school was pretty.
Barbara always thought of the old song “America the Beautiful”- wasn’t
there something in that song about “rolling waves of grain”? Well,
this is what she remembered from third grade, and she always though of
it when they drove to school. There was one farm they passed every
day that she especially loved. It was set back from the road and
had a little animal feeding area that she had been to just twice.
There was a small man-made pond to the left of the barn and ducks would
hang around there all day if you brought some bread. Behind the farm
was open land, nothing but green grass and large old trees sporadically
placed across the open space. Pure freedom, Barbara thought.
She imagined running across the field and laying in the tall grass, watching
large puffy white clouds drift by. Maybe someday she could live on
that farm, or maybe she would just die dreaming about it.
Her peaceful thoughts started to depart when she saw the sign
that told her she was near school. SCHOOL ZONE- 25 MPH. Barbara
jokingly wondered what so magically changed when you crossed a certain
line that would make the speed limit change. She also hoped there
was a very distinct change between the white lines on the road and the
rest of the world. That way her life might be different one day,
when she did not have to participate in the school life that existed between
the two magical streaks of white on the road.
“Bye, hon- have a great day- I’ll see you tonight!”
“Bye mom,” Barbara said as she opened the car door into the soft
drizzle of rain.
“…actually, honey- I probably won’t be home until late tonight,”
Barbara’s mom stammered as she dug through her oversized purse. “We
have this big case, and well- well, you know how it is Barb.”
“Sure mom, whatever, it’s okay, I’ll see you later.” Barbara
shut the car door and ran to the front entrance of Carroll Middle School
to avoid the rain.
Inside the halls were almost empty, except for a few teachers
walking bulky carts full of papers and large teacher’s manuals or television
sets with VCR’s. Barbara usually got to school early, just to wander
around or read, but mainly because she had to; her mom left so early in
the morning it left her no other choice. Sometimes, when she got
the nerve and had a little change, she’d venture into the cafeteria for
a cinnamon roll and milk. Not today, though- she couldn’t bear the
thought of the teachers’ and occasional students’ glances. Not having
any friends made Barbara painfully, although maybe falsely, aware that
something was wrong with her. She often thought of what the teachers
and students thought of her and made whole dialogues in her head about
the negative judgments they passed on her. I am truly alone, she
thought. You are only truly alone when you can create the thoughts
of another person in your own head and not care whether or not they are
correct. She failed to notice that these thoughts she created hurt
her and distanced her further from reality.
Her self destructive thoughts broke into reality when she saw
Mrs. Kobler walking towards her.
“Hello Barbara, ready for today?” she said with a cautious smile.
“I almost forgot. Yes, I guess so.”
“It won’t be as bad as you think, promise. See you in class.”
Not as bad as you think. How could she have forgotten?
Barbara had written the script for her verbal book report last week, so
she could practice and possibly lessen her intense fear of class presentations.
She had practiced one night and had not thought of it since. Maybe
I repressed it, Barbara thought.
She started to feel the butterflies in her stomach. Her
mind immediately went to the last presentation she had given on butterflies
and their seasonal flight patterns. She was so proud of her report;
one, because she put a lot of time and effort into research and collecting
actual specimens, and two, because she had always felt a deep envy and
respect for butterflies. They were the beautiful effects of recreation.
Barbara often felt she should never have been created in the first place-
but maybe a recreation would help. People came up to her after
her butterfly presentation and called her a butterfly murderer. She
was offended. She had only collected butterflies that were already
dead and would never kill one herself. She tried to tell them this
and then the class thought she was sick for handling already dead insects-
didn’t they have horrible diseases? She just couldn’t win.
And now she had to do a book report on Huck Finn; she had hated the book.
Her mind was overwhelmed. Her thoughts raced to ways out
of the presentation. She could call home sick- but her mom would
never come and pick her up. She could still make herself throw up
and go sit in the nurse’s office for the day- but the thought of throwing
up made her stomach turn in a different direction. She had heard
of kids skipping school and sneaking off to the woods behind the school.
This idea made her incredibly nervous, but still not half as nervous as
the idea of the presentation. She could explain later, but the fear
inside her needed to be relieved now. She headed for the back side
of the cafeteria, which led to the food service pick-up/drop-off area behind
the school.
She stood in front of the door, gazing out into the woods behind
the school and feeling hazily crazed. I’ll never do this again, just
this once. There’s nothing wrong with skipping school once, and I’m
a good student, it shouldn’t hurt me too bad. I deserve a break from
this place, it’s hard sometimes. It’s so hard, I have to go.
I have to go… go!
She opened the door and bolted, head down to feel like no one would
see her, towards the woods. She noticed the rain had stopped, but
ran carefully over the loose mud. I’ll never be able to explain myself
if I am covered in mud. She looked up to find out exactly where she
planned to enter. She saw a little orange marker and figured that
was her sign. Entering into the trees, Barbara found it was darker
and cooler. She slowed to a jog and turned to see how far she’d gone.
She could still she the school, but there was no way it could see her.
She was safe.
She pulled off her raincoat and laid it flat next to a tree.
Sitting down she thought she heard movement- not small animal movement,
like a quick hop or scurry past some brush- more like a brushing,
like human legs grazing across foliage on a path. Her nervousness
returned, and intensified with every step she thought she heard coming
closer. A cold sweat broke across her forehead and upper lip.
She huddled closer in to the tree and closed her eyes. If I can’t
see it, it’s not there. She kept repeating this and just as she almost
believed it, there was a knocking on the other side of the tree.
Like someone knocking on the front of a large mahogany door. Her
fear left for a second and she almost wanted to say, “Who is it?” for shear
humor, but couldn’t find the voice to say anything. When she realized
how tight and dry her throat was, she closed her eyes tighter.
“Hey, who the hell are you?”