Chapter the First: Albert Farrell
Headache
As
in, the morning started off with one. Normally, I just shrugged it off, ‘cuz I
got headaches all the time, so what’s one more, right? Wrong. This, this was
the mother of all headaches, and Lord almighty, I really thought it would be
the end of me. But I couldn’t let it take me down, not today. So I got dressed
as quick as I could, a flurry of arms and legs as I tried to fight down the
waves of nausea lapping at my consciousness.
When I finally finished, I
reached over to my desk to grab my glasses, putting them on to clear the final
wisps of blurriness only to reveal a whirlwind of mismatched socks, wrinkled
slacks, and as the cherry on top, I’d even messed up the buttons on my shirt. Dear God, when did you stop loving me? I
sighed and moved to my nightstand to check the time, glimpsing the wind though
my window as I passed, tearing at the trees fast enough to give me whiplash. It
was almost enough to send me back under my covers and I nearly caved…but I
couldn’t miss school today- not with so much to look forward to.
My seat in class was right next
to Genevieve Poole’s, and she was just the most charming girl that the sun ever
laid eyes on. On my first day of school I was late, and she’d shown me a
shortcut through a little garden with these pretty white flowers. I haven’t
been late since then, not only because of the new route, but also because I
didn’t want to miss sitting next to her, especially since today Genevieve was
going to sing the lead in…
Chapter the Second: Kaya Sharman
Choir
Practice
was going to be for two hours today. The thought came to mind as I made my way
down Main towards the school, bracing myself against the wind as it blew sharp
little pinpricks of dust against my face. I pulled my sweater closer to myself
and I caught a glimpse of that kid, the Farrell one running out his apartment
looking odder than usual with his wrinkled pants pulled up too high and his
blurry, thick-framed glasses that he hadn’t even bothered to clean this morning.
His arms were red and had little scars down to his hands, because he always
went to school through a back alley that passed through an abandoned garden
that was overgrown with nettles.
I’d noticed him heading down that
way for years and had initially called out some warning, but he never listened
so I eventually quit. He became kind of a pain after that, saying I was lying
about the nettles because I was jealous of Genevieve and him. To this day I
still don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but I couldn’t help but feel bad
for him as he headed off down the back alley again, his mother racing out
shortly afterwards, yelling at him to come back inside before he died of
pneumonia. God, that kid’s a mess. I
do wish that my mother had kept me
home from school today though, even if I did have to be sick for it to happen.
Anything was better than having to go to school and see Genevieve Poole shine
bright at the top of everyone’s world, grinning down at me as I was left to
crawl at the…
Chapter the Third: Robert Douglass
Bottom
I
tried not to stare, really I did. But it was so hard when she constantly had
her back turned to me, as she frequently did these days. I can’t say it wasn’t
entirely my fault she was mad either. But
I worry. All the time I worried, about everyone and everything, especially
if it involved her.
She’d been so nice to me when I
first moved here, always coming over to tell me about Church or Choir practice
with her students. But recently she’d become less and less friendly as I
started to tell her about my own beliefs. About the new age of science, and how
much it could do to protect people, protect her. From security alarms to
natural disaster kits, I tried to convince her with the same vigor she’d used
to try and convince me about God. I even mentioned two scientists who had lived
here. They were renowned and I had actually moved here just to meet them, not
knowing that they had dies years earlier.
I guess I came off too strongly
though, because next thing I know she was all tight-lipped smiles and frigid
politeness. But it’s not like I didn’t believe in God. All I had really wanted
was for her to consider getting a storm shelter, was that so bad of me?
Granted, we didn’t get too much in the way of storms out here, in fact we’ve
never had one since I arrived, but better safe than sorry, right? She didn’t
seem to think so though, saying that nothing would happen because she was a
woman of faith and God had smiled upon her soul, which surely meant that she
would be protected. So once again I was faced with the dilemma of pressing the
issue for my ease of mind that she would be safe all alone and single in her little
house, or placate her as she left my store so she would be more inclined to
return and grace me with her…
Chapter the Fourth: Maemi Marshall
Company
Was
the name of the game these days. Money, economy, industry, it’s all everyone
ever thought of, and while I had thought that our little Paradise Falls would
be safe from it, it seemed to be trickling in with the morning dew, blown in by
the wind from the mouths of strangers who lived far away from here. And my God if
it wasn’t spreading like a parasite.
Take that Mr. Douglass for
example, now it’s one thing if he decides to start up his own store on Main
Street-that’s his business and I’m not one to interfere- but when he starts
spouting his science talk on everyone who happens by? And claiming to believe
in God while singing the praise of those two pagans no less! Well, I can’t call
myself a woman of God and let that slide right under my nose! I had to think of
the children! And so I decided that I would go and visit him on my way to
school in the mornings, teach him a little about the true path and help him
pull the shades from his eyes, just like I do with my students. And do you know
what he says to me? That man tells me to buy a storm shelter. The very nerve!
Needless to say I was fuming as I
left his little electronics store that day, and I almost didn’t come back
again, but I had too, as it was my duty as a woman of faith. And so I kept
going and he kept at it, every day telling me about how I couldn’t rely on something
as “abstract” as God all the time and
would I please even just accept one if he bought it for me? I was rather
inclined to show him “abstract” that day, but I held it in, just held it in
until I could get to school and see that sweet child Genevieve, an angel if
there ever was one. She was an orphan, a child of two parents with questionable
beliefs, but God had saved her from them and brought her to me. Why, if
Douglass was my own personal devil, than that child was surely a…
Chapter the Fifth: Genevieve Poole
Godsend
It’s
a word used often around here. Miss Maemi calls all her students that. Each one
of you is a godsend, she says, and they all listen, wholly oblivious to the
change in her tone and the coolness that gathers in her eyes as she talks to
some of them in particular. She teaches at the only school in town, and all the
kids attend the only school in town, so everyone gets the quality education
Miss Maemi has become known for. They can recite every lesson on God by heart
but just don’t ask them their multiplication tables and they might just be able
to maintain their farce of educated glory, clad all crisp and pristine in
uniforms.
Nobody here cared though, because
nobody knew any better. All the parents were the descendants of the uneducated
farmers who’d plowed this land all those years ago, and the fools thought that
Miss Maemi herself was a godsend, teaching their children how to get by in life
when she’d first showed up here. They hung on to her every word as though she was God and not just a devout
follower. Almost all of them, anyway. My parents had been smart enough to see
through the ruse she was pulling, but there were only two of them against the
whole town. No matter though, that was neither here nor there.
Seeing my window of opportunity
open, I run up to Miss Maemi. I can see Mr. Douglass staring longingly at her
as she walks by his store this morning, ignoring the wail of televisions
blaring the weather in the background. The merging of cold fronts and warm
fronts mean nothing to him as she strolls by. But he’s got no shot. She cares for nothing but God and has placed
herself on the highest pedestal of devotion to him. So much devotion, in fact,
that she even goes so far as to prophesize to her kids that if even a single
one of them refused to believe in Him, calamity would surely befall the town.
That amused me greatly, and I
wondered what she would say if she found out that even Mr. Douglass had more
faith than me, her prized pupil. What kind of calamity would strike us down
then? But as for Mr. Douglass, until he stops with his scientific explanations
on the pros of storm shelters, he’ll be nothing more than a pesky insect plowed
over by the faulty windshield wipers of her…
Chapter the Sixth: Little D
Life
Is
my favorite word. Mama told me it’s something everyone has, so it must be nice.
‘specially cuz we don’t even have to pay for it. And I don’t even have to carry
it around That’s good cuz I already have to hold my hat that Genevieve made me
in school. It’s like an ice cream cone hat, a paper ice cream cone. There’s
even letters on the front. She said it spelled my school name, and that’s why
everyone called my Little D at school. That’s
my school name. I can’t read the hat yet, but I’m practicing my letters.
Genevieve said we have to be secret though. It’s me and her’s secret hat and I
can’t tell any one she gave it to me.
It’s a secret…
Chapter the Seventh: Albert Farrell
Gift
That’s
what this is. I had to clarify it to Kaya in art class today. I’m painting a
gift, I announced to her suddenly. She just slowly nodded, not even bothering
to look. Miss Maemi overhears and smiles at me though, from where she is,
standing next to Little D, wearing his cone shaped paper hat like always. It
has DUNCE written in huge letters on the front, but he can’t read them and
wouldn’t understand them even if he could. Nobody really knew where he got the
hat from, though. Oh well, not my problem.
I turned my head back to my own
painting, ignoring my ongoing headache and bent on completing it by choir
practice today, so I could give it to her. I’d been working on it for weeks and
the scars on my hands were starting to ache from holding the paintbrush for so
long. It was worth it, though, she was worth it.
Miss Maemi comes and stands behind me and pats
my shoulder, smiling. That’s lovely, she says, what a beautiful portrait of
Genevieve Poole. I smile too, and ask her when Genevieve will be here. She got
the day off to save her voice for choir. Kaya’s paintbrush snapped when Miss
Maemi told us that. I don’t get an answer, though, because Miss Maemi has gone
back to Little D again. But I know Genevieve will be here soon so it’s ok.
She’s probably up on the…
Chapter the Eighth: Kaya Sharman
Hill
It’s
the only thing good about this place. It looks over the whole town and even has
a little house with a basement at the top, shaded by a huge oak tree that’s
been growing forever, it even has two ropes tied to the branches with little
loops on the ends that you can hold on to and swing from. As for the house,
nobody knows whose it is, but it’s really big and there are tons of places to
explore inside. But you have to be careful of all the stuff that’s fallen to
the ground, there’s shattered glass everywhere and some reddish-black paint
splattered on the walls.
Miss Maemi tells us to stay away
from it though. She says heretics used to live there, blasphemers who dared to
counter God, but I went up there as often as I could anyway. The thought of her
being up there while I’m stuck here makes me break my paintbrush again and Miss
Maemi yells at me for wasting the resources of God. I have to go help Little D
now, so she can check up on the rest of the class, she says. I know the real
reason though. She just hates Little D, he’s a blemish in her perfect world of
the Lord. I don’t mind though, I’m probably the only one who’s nice and
actually likes Little D, and anything’s better than Albert and seeing his hands
twitch in pain as he works on that stupid gift.
I walk up to Little D’s canvas
and ask him what he’s painting. He just grins, straightening his hat, and
points at the mercury gray mass that is his paper. I can’t stop staring at the
hat though. When he showed up with it one day, no one knew where it came from,
and everyone laughed at him. I tried to get rid of it, or even to know who gave
it to him so I can punch their face in, but he just won’t tell me. Ice cream
cone cloud, he tells me smiling sweetly. He says he saw it on the way to school
this morning. A cloud that looked like the bottom of an ice cream cone. I
didn’t pay attention though, still working on his secret “friend’s” identity.
To think he would protect someone who was so cruel to him, it was almost…
Chapter the Ninth: Genevieve Poole
Ironic
When
something so stupid happens that you can’t help but laugh. I conned the
gullible Miss Maemi into letting me skip school today, claiming that I wanted
to save my voice for God’s praise, and went to the hill. I went right when she
was leaving Mr. Douglass and his store. I’d been waiting there and had seen the
daily quarrel, choosing to do it then because that’s when she’s happiest to see
me. And so I made my way past Little Dunce and Stephen the infatuated and Kaya
who wanted to punch my face in but didn’t know it, ignoring Mr. Douglass who
was the only one who had a storm shelter in town but probably wouldn’t even use
it because he couldn’t imagine a world without Miss Maemi. Everyone here is so stupid.
The house on the hill was nice,
and the from the top by the tree, past the ropes whipping through the air,
desperate to be free of their wooden shackle, I could see the whole horizon;
all the way to the clouds making a slow descent to the edge of town, wind
yanking them to the earth and demolishing all in their path. An ice cream cone cloud indeed. Smiling,
I made my way down to the basement of the house, my parents’ house, knowing
when I came back up, there’d be nothing left but me and a dingy little sign,
stupidly saying Welcome to Paradise Falls.
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