TWINED Read online

  However the looming thoughts of colleges and careers still haunted me very realistically.

  But I pushed those thoughts aside, for now. It didn’t do me any good to dwell on them anyway. Right now it was ten to seven and I was going to be late, which was all right because if I missed the bus then I got to take my dad’s car which usually made my day. Well, technically he had passed it down to me, so it was mine. But he refused to let me waste money and gas driving to school every morning, not when a kindly bus driver was so willing to do that for me. But I loved my car; an old 1967 Camaro. It was a little rusty and needed a touch of work from a heart full of love, but other than that it was my baby. I think I purposely took forever blow drying my hair so that I could miss the bus and take that damn Camaro.

  But nonetheless the routine kicked in. Black studs in the ears, a small feather in the hair, a touch of eye shadow, jeans with a hole ripped in the knee, a pair of old sneakers and a navy blue tank under a comfortable and holed sweater that had sleeves only slightly too long for my arms. I put on my favorite fake ruby necklace, the one with the silver outlining it, and then I grabbed my cell and my four favorite CD’s.

  I don’t do iPods. I do CD players and speakers. No clue why. Just my thing I guess. But the tech wave will catch me one day. Hell, if I keep hanging around with Prajna it will. She already got me to make a Facepage online. I hate Facepage.

  But that was enough screwing around trying to look pretty… I was going to school. I wasn’t at jury duty fluffing my hair trying to look attractive because I noticed that the defense attorney was kind of hot. I was going to Rowan High.

  I sighed and ran a hand through my hair and gave myself a playful rocker pose in my mirror. I was content with me this morning, so I stepped past the clothes, grabbed my Beatles bag from my bed and slapped the falling end of my Mick Jagger poster back onto the wall as I walked out the door.

  “Dad!” I yelled as I walked to over to his room. I banged on his door with my hand as I checked my phone for the time, “Dad, it’s time to get up. You’ve got work.”

  I heard shuffling and he mumbled something. I squinted my eyes as he kept saying something that I couldn’t understand, “What? It’s seven dad. Get up, I’m serious.”

  I heard scratching and whining on the other side of the door. Nick, my Jack Russell Terrier, was trying to get to me. Unfortunately I didn’t have time to play with him this morning. Too much to do, so little time.

  “Even the dog’s up before you,” I taunted my father. “I want you walking around before I leave for school.”

  Another muffle, but this time the tone was clear. It seemed he was going to get up this time, so my job was done. I shook my head and grinned to myself a bit. It was a sad day when I was the responsible one in the family.

  I walked down my dark wood stairs and the horribly ugly green foyer wallpaper began to show. It almost sent me into a seizure. I knighted the color “Satan’s Panties”. One day, when I’m a super successful dentist yanking teeth for so much money an hour, I will come back with all my money and a paint crew and tear this wallpaper down.

  I nodded to myself as I was content with the message I had sent. I could feel the walls shaking. That wallpaper was terrified. I could tell. I spoke fear fluently.

  Also content that I had my first, but nowhere near to being last, weird moment of the day, I pushed my white screen door open and walked onto my pale blue wooden porch. I moved past the slowly rotting swing attached to the ceiling and walked down the steps. I turned around to my two story brick townhouse and sighed. Blowing the home a kiss, I wondered again why my house was the only brick one in the development. I’ll ask God when I die.

  And there it was. Sitting in my driveway was my equally ugly green 1967 Camaro. It was roughly the same putrid green tincture as my foyer wallpaper, but I deemed the color looked much sexier on my inherited Camaro. I looked in the car and shouldered my bag, fidgeting for the keys. I had taken the Camaro yesterday against dad’s wishes, so I think I still had them. I think he regretted giving me his car. I think he wanted it back. He could have the Honda, it was better on gas anyway.

  I found the keys. I grabbed them and stuck the key into the car door and turned. It popped the lock open and I shifted into the seat of the car. I stuffed my bag onto the passenger chair and breathed in, smiling. I had gotten a new sound system for this thing and I finally got to set it up. It helps that someone I know works on these kinds of cars. Lyle’s friend was making a project out of my baby, which I loved because I was totally hoping to restore this thing when I got the chance. Paint jobs, new tires, the works. I wanted him to tear it down and build it back up again. That would be a dream come true.

  But for now it was my sexy, sugar coated ride to school. I looked through my CD’s as I skimmed my finger over the black steering wheel slightly. Music was my forte, my escape, and it was the perfect way to lose yourself in a world all your own. I wanted to hear Jar of Hearts, White Flag by Dido, The Stones or Jessie J. Luckily my one mix tape I grabbed had all of them so I didn’t have to anchor down to one group. That’s exactly how to start your day right there.

  I revved the engine and it purred nicely for me. Key was twisted, hair was did, mirrors adjusted, teeth picked, seat belt on and car in reverse.

  And I began my drive to Rowan High. This was my life.

  This… for the moment… was me.

  ****

  Rowan Springs… how do I explain Rowan Springs? I think I can pretty much sum it up in one word, actually. One intense, mystifying and adrenaline-pumping word.

  Nothing.

  I’m not being drab. I’m not being bitter, emotional or depressing. I’m sure as hell not being sarcastic. There is nothing in Rowan Springs. I’m not exaggerating in the least, seriously. You don’t hear anything good coming from Rowan Springs. Start with the sentence, “So yesterday in Rowan Springs I…” and no good answers will come from it. I did nothing. I got mugged. I saw a dog dressed up like a lobster. Those would all be reasonable answers.

  But Rowan High… that school defined the term nothing. There’s just nothing going on here. Nothing to keep a girl on her toes through her day to day. The drama was bland and pointless, just like the coffee. The dances were disorganized and embarrassing, just like the sports teams. The teachers were mostly dull and uninteresting, just like the students. I had a hard time finding anything in this county that spoke to me.

  But regardless of what I thought of it, it’s where I was headed. And it’s where I was going to spend the next seven hours of my life. I turned into the road that led down the bus loop and drove through. It brought me around to the student parking lot as I turned the circle and was casually guided by cute little painted paw prints on the road. How adorable. And that’s right, it’s spirit week. This means pep rally. Yay, pep rally.

  Okay, I had no school spirit. But you can’t blame me. When the senior prank of the year is to draw dicks all over the cars in the senior parking section, that’s about the time one loses their Rowan High patriotism. I only just got that marker crap off my Camaro.

  So I drifted into a foul mood after flipping the bird to well over half a dozen staff members and students who couldn’t drive. I finally found a nice parking spot by a tree near the playground… which got me to wondering why a high school had a playground? I should ask God when I die.

  I parked my baby and got out. The wind picked up for a second because it liked to do that as soon as I got out of my car. It was already cloudy and starting to drizzle, so that’s always good too. Sarcasm. I fixed the feather in my hair and checked if that streak of red was still in there. It was. Good. I shouldered my bag after I closed the door to the Camaro, gently of course. I looked to the older two-story building in front of me. Cars and students darted left and right in disorganized fashions. The rain had stopped momentarily. With the sky painted such a soothing and dusky gray I
sighed and just got caught in the sight of it for a moment. For a bit I just… forgot.

  I forgot everything. I believed in taking a deep breath before you began your day. It made me feel like I would be able to function better if I took some time to relax and stabilize myself. I pushed aside my life, my problems and my worries for a couple seconds and just breathed, smelling what I think was a strong whiff of pine sap. I breathed like my whole life’s purpose was breathing. I inhaled the wind and memorized the blackness of the inside of my eyelids. And my skin tingled with goose bumps as my bag slid a little off my shoulder. But I didn’t fix it. It wasn’t important right now. Nothing was. Nothing mattered right now but me.

  And that’s when I heard it; something that would ring clear in my mind, more so than my own thoughts. It was a deep and serious voice that spoke with some sort of indefinable wisdom. And it spoke to me… and told me this.

  “Don’t ever forget.”

  My eyes opened.

  I looked around me. I could have sworn someone just said something to me. I looked behind me, in front, every direction I could think of but people just walked past me like usual. No one had said anything to me. The voice sounded like a guy. Lyle maybe? No, Lyle’s voice didn’t sound so deep. And it was so close it was like someone had been standing over my shoulder and whispered into my ear. But there was no one around me. I blinked as I adjusted my bag and scratched my head a bit. That was just the weirdest thing. Did I really just hear someone talk to me?

  “Avalin!”

  This time it was my name. But I looked to my left and didn’t hear a man’s voice, but the voice of my best friend. It was Prajna, walking over with her jacket, scarf and glasses matching perfectly.

  I blinked and realized it wasn’t the same person. It wasn’t the same voice. It was weird but I pushed it aside. It must have just been my imagination. “So it was you who was calling me,” I said. “What’s up?”

  My Indian friend smiled sweetly as she carried both her purse and her backpack with her. She could pull off a smile with perfect teeth and I cringed in envy. I bet she didn’t have halitophobia. I was about to say something but Prajna’s quick and high pitched voice got the first word in.

  “Annabel Lee. Poet, date, theme and analysis. Go.”

  I gave her a strange look as she walked beside me. “Wait, what are you asking me?”

  “I’m not asking. I’m questioning your skill at memorization and whether or not you can truly grasp the elegance and twisted emotion of Edgar Allan Poe.” Prajna flinched for a split second, “Wait, shit, I just told you who it was. Okay, date, theme, analysis, and I want a few lines from the poem. Go.”

  “Do we have to do this now, Prajna? I just got here.”

  “And your test is in three hours. You asked me to help you study, and I help thoroughly.”

  “I meant help me study last night,” I rebutted, “That request doesn’t carry over into the morning. Night’s over, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  Prajna grabbed my arm, “I won’t let you go into school until you tell me about the beautiful Annabel Lee and the eternal love she resembles. Wait, shit, forget I said that. Anyway for us to get started on our day, you need to tell me about this poem. Come on. We haven’t got all morning. I mean we do, but I’d rather do something better with our time.”

  I sighed and shook her hand off me, “Fine, fine. If I observe and tell you about the damn poem will you let me walk into school in peace?”

  “Assuming said observation of the literature is correct, of course I will.” Prajna said back.

  “Don’t I even get a good morning?”

  She cocked her head cutely, “Good morning Avalin. Now recite.”

  I groaned to myself. I love poets. I detest being forced to love poets. Hell I knew that Prajna was a little… eccentric. But this was almost ridiculous, even for her.

  “All right, uh… Edgar Allan,” I recited.

  “Poe. January 19th, 1809 to October 7th, 1849. Give me a few lines from his poem.”

  “Just let me tell you about freaking Annabel Lee.” I searched my brain for a few lines from Edgar’s poem, the one I had read last night, “Uh, I don’t know… for the moon never beams without bringing me dreams of the beautiful Annabel Lee. And those stars never rise but I see the bright eyes of the beautiful Annabel Lee.”

  Prajna was quiet for only a split second, “Yes. Except its ‘the’ stars, not ‘those’ stars.”

  “My mistake,” I exaggerated.

  “Forgiven, now, theme analysis?”

  “Um… well I don’t know. For once I think this poem is about love and not death.”

  “Actually that’s not entirely accurate. His poem is about love transcending death and how love seemingly conquers all. It’s also about jealousy. The line about heaven and the angels suggest that their love was so perfect it transcended even mortality.”

  I laughed to myself, “Love that exceeds death, huh? Must be a nice thing to have. Never ending nausea.”

  “If you are into that sort of thing sure. Now about the poem-”

  “Okay, here’s the deal,” I said as I sighed. “What will it take, right here, right now, for you to stop discussing poets and talk about something else with me?”

  “Hmm…” she thought to herself with a coy little smile, “Got any gum?”

  I gave her a piece of Spearmint. “Not another word about Poe. Understood?”

  Prajna nodded as she pulled a strand of her black hair out of her face. We both walked together across the parking lot and over to the school building, “So how are you doing?” she said like we haven’t seen each other in ages. Let the record show that we talked with each other last night on the phone, at nine on the dot actually.

  “Regarding what?” I asked. I generally was curious about what she meant in particular, just so long as it didn’t have to do with school.

  She shrugged, “You know… breaking up with Alan.”

  I didn’t even give that dude a single brain cell worth of thought. “Oh.” I waved my hand and dismissed all emotions from class, “Classic case. Was drawn to the man he could have been, rejected the boy he insisted on acting like.”

  “Ooh.” Prajna gritted her pearl whites, “Harsh.”

  “Harsh yes. Justified? Oh hell yeah.” I turned to her, “Did you know he’s the one who came up with the prank to draw male genitalia and profanity all over the senior classmen cars?”

  Prajna’s head snapped to look at me and her mouth dropped open, “Wait, that’s what those drawings were supposed to be?”

  “Of course. They were freaking wieners. What did you think they were?”

  She puckered her lips and crossed her arms, “I thought they were cupcakes. That’s what they looked like.”

  “You thought the dicks were cupcakes?” I said, grinning wildly at Prajna acting so oblivious.

  She smiled back, but only because I was smiling. I really don’t think she understood why I thought her lack of perception was funny. “Well either cupcakes… or they kind of looked like rocket ships. That’s why I didn’t get it. Why would someone draw cupcakes and rocket ships all over my car?” she said quite seriously, and I laughed as she continued. “Either way it took me forever to get those drawings off of my buggy.”

  “Obviously nobody in this school takes anatomy.” I shook my head. “But see he never even thought this plan out. First off, who pranks the senior class, as a senior? Second he never stopped to think; hey the fellow senior I’m dating may have a car in the senior parking lot. Great! How about dicks? Let’s draw them everywhere on her car.”

  “How idiotic,” Prajna replied.

  “I feel like pulling a prank just to do it right.” I said, full knowing that in the back of my mind, I meant it, “I’ll do the senior prank the right way.”

  Pr
ajna knew that was the only thing about senior year I was looking forward to. As we finally reached the back entrance to the school and started walking up the steps one by one, Prajna grimaced, “Please don’t draw genitals on my Buggy.”

  I grunted, “Why would I do that? You’re going to be helping me set the pranks up. You’re my wing woman Praj.”

  “Fantastic,” Prajna moaned as I pushed her shoulder. But as I did I almost fell on my face after I stepped on my own shoelace. She went ahead as I stooped down to re-tie my knots. I hated stepping on shoestrings, it was an absolutely unbearable pet peeve of mine and it wouldn’t be tolerated. As I was bent down and fixing my shoe, I saw a few pairs of legs walk by me. I glanced at shin level as I knew exactly who they were judging from the expensive shoes those shins were attached to.

  “Nice driving Marsh,” Connie Summers, head cheerleading captain, remarked in a smug and annoyingly high-pitched voice as she walked past me. “Maybe you should get your puke green piece of shit serviced.”

  I gritted my teeth as her friends laughed. I stood up and sighed, adjusting my bag.

  “Really? That’s the best you have? Kneel and suck, Connie, I don’t have time to waste with you.”

  She opened her mouth a little at my comeback. She was the biggest tramp in the entire school and we all knew it. Well, everyone else knew it. I loved it. Gave me something to shove down those size zero jeans. But she just grinned and put her hands on her hip.

  “Wow. Talking back to your betters.” She smiled that smug lipstick covered grin, “Takes balls. I guess crazy must run in the family hmm?”

  That’s when shit hit the fan.

  What did she say to me?

  Crazy.

  Runs in the family.

  My field of vision was turning red. Literally red. Red like the fiery ruby I had adorned around my neck. I could feel my fist turning the same shade of scarlet as my fingernails dug into my own skin. I wanted to kill her, I swear it. She knew about me, my family. The rumors were never out of reach of her ears. She knew it all and she had the balls to talk about it.