Chapter 26 -
06/03/2018
I swiped on my phone and double tapped open the camera icon. My fingers worked quickly to turn on the selfie-mode so that I could use it as a mirror to check my reflection. But Vassie surprised me by tossing my purse off the table with a wrist fling. “Oops,” she said wearing a mischievous grin, “Here you go.”Two seconds later, I realized what she was trying to make me do. I slid to the edge and lowered my arm to the floor. While I reached for the purse, I shoot a swift glance at the diner entrance as casually as if checking on the metal clock on the wall.
But when I found nobody at the door, confusion hit me like a wet cloth. What’s going on? I glanced to Vassie again, as if asking for an explanation. She titled her head and rolled eyes to one side. My gaze followed the direction of her eyes and blood drained from my cheeks, as I found Lectyn’s face just inches away from mine.
He reached down, picked up my purse and handed it back to me. “Here’s our star,” he said teasingly. “Sasha, right? I heard about you last night.”
I glimpsed to catch Vassie wrinkle her nose. “I told him,” she mouthed to me.
“Well. Thanks.” I shrugged, “I mean, thanks for the purse.” Be cool, I told myself.
“See you around,” Lectyn nodded and walked off with his friends to a booth two tables down.
The waitress came back with two large plates and settled them in front of us. I didn’t bring up my surreal experience in AohhoA again. I was too preoccupied with the unexpected episode with Lectyn. I tried to recall if I had seen a smirk on his face, and decided that his remarks weren’t out of sarcasm.
For the rest of the evening, I listened half-heartedly to Vassie chatting with excitement about an upcoming ball scheduled for the Freshmen next month. A small part of me wondered who Lectyn’s date would be, as I watched him through my peripheral vision.
I drove home after dinner with way more scattered thoughts than I had gone out with. Late at night I was restless, tossing and turning as I struggled to fall asleep. I wasn’t sure if my wakefulness was caused by the excitement of hightailing it home or by something else. I kept imagining a butterfly trapped inside me and calling my name in different muffled voices. When I was awake again in the morning, I was exhausted.
At breakfast Father asked if I had my things ready for school.
“I am going to Cloveta High, right?” I questioned without thinking.
“Of course. Honey,” Mother turned to me, “It’s Monday today. You have school.”
“Of course. It must be the Monday Morning Syndrome,” I flashed a grin, avoiding her searching glance.
Deep down I grew terrified at the question of how much more was locked up in my memory. I must have started high school two months ago but my recollection of it measured little to none. I didn’t want my parents to worry so I decided to stay quiet about my strange amnesia.
“I’m heading out,” I announced and strolled up to the shoe cabinet. When I received no objection to my reach for the car key, I quickly put on my sneaker and skirted out through the side door.
I navigated the familiar streets, taking big gulps of air. As I slowly settled in, I began to think that I could really enjoy this newly acquired independence.
Despite having no recollection, I found an instant connection to the new school, when I rolled in with an influx of students. I walked down the busy hallway, rounded the corner to a row of orange lockers. I was grateful for an instant relief, when I spotted Vassie and Christy hanging out by one of lockers.
I joined them quietly, offering a simple “Hey”, before pulling out my phone and trying to appear busy by swiping through Instagram photos.
Later when the bell rang, it cost me little effort to figure out where my classes were following a schedule that coincidentally was shared by all three of us.
By the time I was in the fifth period, I was totally at ease, embracing all the excitement of this new experience. Added to the thrill was finding Lectyn sitting right next to me in biology class. When Mr. Rice told the class to partner up for a project, Lectyn leaned in to me, and said in almost a whisper. “You should consider getting to know me better,” he tapped a finger at the project sheet on my desk. I supposed it was a proposal to team up and I didn’t object.
The rest of the day passed like a blur. Everything seemed to fall into right places like Tetris pieces. I drove home carrying a refreshed feeling of validation that my day had gone on exactly how I would’ve wanted. It was perfect.
This sense of perfection didn’t stop that afternoon. For days I was living it up, going through classes and practices effortlessly.
“I aced it, again.” I told Vassie one day in AP history class, when we got our test results back. I wasn’t boasting, because history had always been a subject that I struggled with, forgetting key dates or mixing up names and sequence of events. After miraculously, now I was able to sharpen my focus and get everything right.
The icing on the cake of my new life was that Lectyn and I had ended up spending hours together on the project for biology class. He turned out to be funny, and sometimes even showing a warped sense of humor that I enjoyed. He also had quite a fascination about birds, or more precisely the “ornithology myths” as he called it.
He would talk to me about his newest findings of the habits of certain species, when we hung out after school on days that neither of us had practices. We grew closer as friends, as if it was part of a natural progression toward something else.
There was no doubt in my mind that this development was fomented by the change in me. I had become the best version of myself. I was confident and happy, like I had suddenly shed the awkwardness that consumed me in middle school.
The only caveat of my life, however, was that at night I would hear faint callings of my name, pursued by a strange dream in which I was standing in the bottom of a drywell made of mirrors.
I would try to break through my reflections to escape the well. But whenever I punched, my hands would just travel through them like they were shadows. I would lose balance and stumble forward till my whole body crashed into the mirrors. When I came out on the other side, a terrifying discovery awaited me that I had remained confined to the bottom of the drywell.
In the nightmare, I kept on hearing someone repeating the word “Imajigo,” and telling me to punch with it. But I didn’t understand what it meant. So I ran around in circles, falling in and out of the mirrors all night long.
In the morning I would wake up drained of energy. I grew so tired of the bizarre and exhausting episode that during the day I began forcing out any thoughts about AohhoA. I was no longer concerned that my journey had never come to a satisfying closure or that I had never retrieved the missing link in my memory. I stopped mulling over Bulkee and Sye and soon I had difficulties recalling their faces.
I continued enjoying the daytime activities. Nothing seemed to be out of place until one afternoon, when Lectyn posed a series of strange questions to me.
About a month after my return home, he and I visited a local science museum to take notes for our project. We came across the specimen of a bird called quetzal which looked strikingly different from any other birds there. This quetzal was beautiful with golden-green wings, bright red chest and a long airy tail. But when the platform supporting the display turned around, the dead bird’s eyes moved. With tuft of green feathers standing atop its head, the quetzal bored its eyes into mine. I jumped back in a shock.
But immediately I felt Lectyn’s hand on my lower back, as he brought me back to the window. “Some ancient cultures consider quetzals as the god of air,” he told me. “This is a male quetzal. Look at how unique it is. Wild and exotic. I just can’t resist exotic things, like you,” he whispered into my ears, tinkling me with his breathe.
I tried to look nonchalant, although my ears started to burn. “Exotic?” I asked.
“Yes, you,” he leaned closer. “You just don’t realize how unique you are. The high cheekbones. The sloping tip of your nose. And the eyes like that of a wild cat. How amazingly different!” His hand traveled up my spine till his palm warmed the back of my neck. With a little pressure he had me turn to face him.
Blood rushed up to me. I almost expected him to plant a kiss on my lips, when I heard him ask, “Will you stay here with me and live our lives this way forever?”
The question struck me as very strange. “What do you mean?”
“No. You tell me. Are you happy with where you are?”
“With us being here? Yes.”
“Good. And are you happy about everything else?” He asked again.
“Where are we going with this?” I grew alert.
“Are you pleased about all that you have right now?” He became very somber, “Your friends, family, and even your school?”
“Our school,” I corrected him as I took notice of the change in his attitude.
He was so grave that he appeared like someone else, a stranger. When he returned my gaze, I discovered in his eyes a certain level of detachment that I was unaware of before. He studied me, as if he had been completely uninvolved in my life.
Slowly he took my hand and placed it on his palm. “Stay here. Will you?” He gave me a hard squeeze. But his hand was cold and I shivered.
But when I found nobody at the door, confusion hit me like a wet cloth. What’s going on? I glanced to Vassie again, as if asking for an explanation. She titled her head and rolled eyes to one side. My gaze followed the direction of her eyes and blood drained from my cheeks, as I found Lectyn’s face just inches away from mine.
He reached down, picked up my purse and handed it back to me. “Here’s our star,” he said teasingly. “Sasha, right? I heard about you last night.”
I glimpsed to catch Vassie wrinkle her nose. “I told him,” she mouthed to me.
“Well. Thanks.” I shrugged, “I mean, thanks for the purse.” Be cool, I told myself.
“See you around,” Lectyn nodded and walked off with his friends to a booth two tables down.
The waitress came back with two large plates and settled them in front of us. I didn’t bring up my surreal experience in AohhoA again. I was too preoccupied with the unexpected episode with Lectyn. I tried to recall if I had seen a smirk on his face, and decided that his remarks weren’t out of sarcasm.
For the rest of the evening, I listened half-heartedly to Vassie chatting with excitement about an upcoming ball scheduled for the Freshmen next month. A small part of me wondered who Lectyn’s date would be, as I watched him through my peripheral vision.
I drove home after dinner with way more scattered thoughts than I had gone out with. Late at night I was restless, tossing and turning as I struggled to fall asleep. I wasn’t sure if my wakefulness was caused by the excitement of hightailing it home or by something else. I kept imagining a butterfly trapped inside me and calling my name in different muffled voices. When I was awake again in the morning, I was exhausted.
At breakfast Father asked if I had my things ready for school.
“I am going to Cloveta High, right?” I questioned without thinking.
“Of course. Honey,” Mother turned to me, “It’s Monday today. You have school.”
“Of course. It must be the Monday Morning Syndrome,” I flashed a grin, avoiding her searching glance.
Deep down I grew terrified at the question of how much more was locked up in my memory. I must have started high school two months ago but my recollection of it measured little to none. I didn’t want my parents to worry so I decided to stay quiet about my strange amnesia.
“I’m heading out,” I announced and strolled up to the shoe cabinet. When I received no objection to my reach for the car key, I quickly put on my sneaker and skirted out through the side door.
I navigated the familiar streets, taking big gulps of air. As I slowly settled in, I began to think that I could really enjoy this newly acquired independence.
Despite having no recollection, I found an instant connection to the new school, when I rolled in with an influx of students. I walked down the busy hallway, rounded the corner to a row of orange lockers. I was grateful for an instant relief, when I spotted Vassie and Christy hanging out by one of lockers.
I joined them quietly, offering a simple “Hey”, before pulling out my phone and trying to appear busy by swiping through Instagram photos.
Later when the bell rang, it cost me little effort to figure out where my classes were following a schedule that coincidentally was shared by all three of us.
By the time I was in the fifth period, I was totally at ease, embracing all the excitement of this new experience. Added to the thrill was finding Lectyn sitting right next to me in biology class. When Mr. Rice told the class to partner up for a project, Lectyn leaned in to me, and said in almost a whisper. “You should consider getting to know me better,” he tapped a finger at the project sheet on my desk. I supposed it was a proposal to team up and I didn’t object.
The rest of the day passed like a blur. Everything seemed to fall into right places like Tetris pieces. I drove home carrying a refreshed feeling of validation that my day had gone on exactly how I would’ve wanted. It was perfect.
This sense of perfection didn’t stop that afternoon. For days I was living it up, going through classes and practices effortlessly.
“I aced it, again.” I told Vassie one day in AP history class, when we got our test results back. I wasn’t boasting, because history had always been a subject that I struggled with, forgetting key dates or mixing up names and sequence of events. After miraculously, now I was able to sharpen my focus and get everything right.
The icing on the cake of my new life was that Lectyn and I had ended up spending hours together on the project for biology class. He turned out to be funny, and sometimes even showing a warped sense of humor that I enjoyed. He also had quite a fascination about birds, or more precisely the “ornithology myths” as he called it.
He would talk to me about his newest findings of the habits of certain species, when we hung out after school on days that neither of us had practices. We grew closer as friends, as if it was part of a natural progression toward something else.
There was no doubt in my mind that this development was fomented by the change in me. I had become the best version of myself. I was confident and happy, like I had suddenly shed the awkwardness that consumed me in middle school.
The only caveat of my life, however, was that at night I would hear faint callings of my name, pursued by a strange dream in which I was standing in the bottom of a drywell made of mirrors.
I would try to break through my reflections to escape the well. But whenever I punched, my hands would just travel through them like they were shadows. I would lose balance and stumble forward till my whole body crashed into the mirrors. When I came out on the other side, a terrifying discovery awaited me that I had remained confined to the bottom of the drywell.
In the nightmare, I kept on hearing someone repeating the word “Imajigo,” and telling me to punch with it. But I didn’t understand what it meant. So I ran around in circles, falling in and out of the mirrors all night long.
In the morning I would wake up drained of energy. I grew so tired of the bizarre and exhausting episode that during the day I began forcing out any thoughts about AohhoA. I was no longer concerned that my journey had never come to a satisfying closure or that I had never retrieved the missing link in my memory. I stopped mulling over Bulkee and Sye and soon I had difficulties recalling their faces.
I continued enjoying the daytime activities. Nothing seemed to be out of place until one afternoon, when Lectyn posed a series of strange questions to me.
About a month after my return home, he and I visited a local science museum to take notes for our project. We came across the specimen of a bird called quetzal which looked strikingly different from any other birds there. This quetzal was beautiful with golden-green wings, bright red chest and a long airy tail. But when the platform supporting the display turned around, the dead bird’s eyes moved. With tuft of green feathers standing atop its head, the quetzal bored its eyes into mine. I jumped back in a shock.
But immediately I felt Lectyn’s hand on my lower back, as he brought me back to the window. “Some ancient cultures consider quetzals as the god of air,” he told me. “This is a male quetzal. Look at how unique it is. Wild and exotic. I just can’t resist exotic things, like you,” he whispered into my ears, tinkling me with his breathe.
I tried to look nonchalant, although my ears started to burn. “Exotic?” I asked.
“Yes, you,” he leaned closer. “You just don’t realize how unique you are. The high cheekbones. The sloping tip of your nose. And the eyes like that of a wild cat. How amazingly different!” His hand traveled up my spine till his palm warmed the back of my neck. With a little pressure he had me turn to face him.
Blood rushed up to me. I almost expected him to plant a kiss on my lips, when I heard him ask, “Will you stay here with me and live our lives this way forever?”
The question struck me as very strange. “What do you mean?”
“No. You tell me. Are you happy with where you are?”
“With us being here? Yes.”
“Good. And are you happy about everything else?” He asked again.
“Where are we going with this?” I grew alert.
“Are you pleased about all that you have right now?” He became very somber, “Your friends, family, and even your school?”
“Our school,” I corrected him as I took notice of the change in his attitude.
He was so grave that he appeared like someone else, a stranger. When he returned my gaze, I discovered in his eyes a certain level of detachment that I was unaware of before. He studied me, as if he had been completely uninvolved in my life.
Slowly he took my hand and placed it on his palm. “Stay here. Will you?” He gave me a hard squeeze. But his hand was cold and I shivered.
