Disclaimer: Property of Katherine Paterson
Head in the Clouds
Revised Chapter One
More Than This
Once upon a time there was a girl
Revised: 11/7/10
"Oh, Leslie wait-"
Jess sighed as Leslie jumped head first back into the Burke's clustered closet without a care in the world. Lord, did she value her health at all?
The closet gave a jarring and thoroughly unsettling wobble as if in reply. The vibration that followed would certainly have graced the rector scale at a respectable 4.1. Jess took a few surreptitious steps back, a chill in the pit of his stomach telling him he wanted no part of this 'excavation'.
"Hey, Leslie, I don't really need the shoes, I've lived in Lark Creek long enough, a little rain I can handle no... hey, are you listening?"
"Pffttt!" coughed the closet, an avalanche of shoes tumbling down into the hallway.
"Lord, can't we just... go back to exploring your house or something? We didn't finish the basement, heck, we haven't even touched the attic. I'm sure the rain'll stop soon anyhow." He was concerned she might be burying herself into her own grave, such was the size of the forgotten goods, swaying with every twist and turn of Leslie's explorations.
"Look," she said, head popping out of the untidy mess like a chirpy dolphin, "its the cleats I was taking about."
Leslie carelessly tossed them towards Jess, who luckily avoided contact with the uninviting studs.
"Leslie!" But she'd already dived right back in for another round. It reminded him of Steve Irwin the way she wrestled with the jammed coats: tugging, prodding and jumping onto them with a sort of determined grin on her face. A horribly frightening image of Leslie 'coercing' a crocodile to guard Terabitha briefly filtered through his mind...
"Ugh!" Jess nearly toppled downstairs courtesy of a missile-like shoe crashing into his forehead. Vision fuzzy and ears ringing, he urged Leslie to learn how to bloody hand things over properly!
Thankfully Leslie eventually grew tired of being a greedy excavator, gathering a plethora of wet weather clothes and innocently handing them to an exacerbated eleven year old.
"I should probably get some stuff for the clubroom as well," she added as an afterthought, staring back into the closet with keen interest.
"Clubroom?"
"You know, Team Terabithia!" Leslie jumped on the spot as if readying for a sprint. "Our new after-school club, the best club yet to be conceived in the annals of time and space. Ah, Terabitha, growing wings and expanding in Lark Creek Elementary. Good, good."
Jess shuddered instinctively in much the same way he had the first time he heard the woeful name 'Team Terabithia'.
"Lord, Leslie, it only started by accident yesterday, don't you think you should get the groundwork finished first? Like, you know, ask Janice Avery and them if they want to come back or whatever." Them was of course referring to Wonda Kay and Scott Hoager – ugh, he felt like throwing up.
Surprisingly she seemed to accept his advice, dropping the issue... for now. The duo instead concentrated their efforts on mastering the mountain of chores that all the Burkes seemed prone to forget in their 'unstuck' moments of inspiration.
"Ahhh, you're like Mr Fantastic – the one with hands like elastic – amazing." Leslie's eyes gleamed like polished diamonds as he obliterated a pile of dirty dishes at break neck speed, all the while avoiding any slips or splashes.
Ordinarily he'd find the daily task of dish washing an ordeal, but at the Burkes, it was actually quite enjoyable for some reason. Well, other than the somewhat awkward moment when Bill looked like he was about to burst into tears of joy upon seeing the spotless sink.
"What a sight, never would I have imagined, never," the bizarre bespectacled man had muttered in a euphoric haze as he'd stumbled away.
Leslie might not have been the greatest with her hands, but she was certainly a willing learner, and seemed to find something magical in even the most mundane household items that were stored and ignored the world over.
"Ah, so you dust like this? I see, with your back like... oh, now I feel like a mistreated and oppressed Cinderella, striving diligently to merely pacify my maniacal sisters." Leslie skilfully thrust her broom upwards, stabbing the air above her precisely. "Take that wicked witch, I prefer bananas to apples anyway – oh wait, that's Snow White, isn't it?"
Jess nodded in agreement, so long as her ire was directed at imaginary foes and not him he had no problem.
He wouldn't have noticed it if they hadn't been cleaning every speck so thoroughly. Overshadowed by a precarious stack of books, it had almost been camouflaged by the dust like a chameleon. He picked it up without thinking, curiosity silencing any protests.
It looked fairly recent, such was the quality of the image and the bright controlled faces that proposed class and sophistication. The sides were crumpled slightly, as if someone had squished it carelessly into their pocket.
He felt Leslie beside him. She would notice if he stood their like an idiot. Come on, he felt a voice urge him to throw it away and continue as normal. He didn't listen.
"Leslie... this, kind of, fell?" What is it, he wanted to add, but he had just enough wits left to hold it in.
She looked like she'd taken a large mouthful of sour medicine the moment she set eyes on it. "Ah, that's... a photo. I, er - one of my old schools, an interesting place, although just look at the hats! I believe I already told you about the gym?"
"But look," Jess said with disbelief that she was downplaying this, thrusting the photo into her face, "it says school for gifted and talented children, what does that even mean?"
"That's sort of the problem." Leslie smiled thinly, hiding any discomfort with unstable hearty laughter.
"But–"
Leslie shrugged off any further questions like water from a duck's back. "Anyway, does this have anything to do with cleaning?"
His expression must have suggested that it had everything to do with everything because she hesitated for a moment, twisting her neck. "I'm young and thick. Heads too full of stuff, I need a bigger head."
She quickly started sweeping again, humming a catchy tune, albeit with slightly more rigid, tempestuous strokes than before. Jess exhaled like he'd been punched in the stomach, knowing full well from experiences with his father that the calm before the storm could be much more terrifying.
He discarded the photo of Leslie's old class, a meticulously composed image with grandiose setting and fancy uniforms, back on the shelf where he hoped it belonged for good. It bothered the hell out of him for some reason to see someone who looked like Leslie, but at the same time couldn't be more different. Like seeing a favourite actor staring as an alien with prosthetic make up in a wacky, surreal film that was impossible to grasp.
To be confronted with the reality that Leslie had existed before, that she probably had friends, memories and experiences that he could never be a part of... it was difficult to stomach, like a rubber steak lying in his mouth refusing to bend or break, he could only leave it lingering over him like a dark cloud.
"Now for the bathroom," Leslie said in an unnecessarily loud voice, the slow motion of her gait urging him to follow.
School for the gifted. He shook his head, from that to Lark Creek, it just didn't make any sense. He willed himself to forget it even happened as he followed her begrudgingly.
"Aaahhh, amazing, amazing." Leslie applauded fervently as Jess gave a satisfied wipe of the brow at a job well done. It was dark now and they were both taking advantage of the brief respite from rain, resting on the Burke's front porch.
Before today the Burke's house had resembled something out of a holiday homes programme that he'd often catch his mother watching enviously. While spacious and modern, the house had lacked all the little trinkets that really made a home a home.
An ornament here, a souvenir there and most importantly photos and prized possessions that you were actually proud to display to the world. He couldn't quite describe why, but it made him feel immensely pleased to see the Burke family home now really resembling a place where people actually lived, rather than some place they were merely passing through.
"Ah," Leslie stretched out her back on the welcome mat they'd found gathering dust in a forgotten crevice. It proclaimed proudly: Come Back With A Warrant.
"I definitely have to give you a reward," Leslie said, nodding wistfully, "definitely."
Her eyes wandered along the road as if something suitable would spring out of the mud. Jess' eyes narrowed into slits for only an instant; Leslie was acting rather suspiciously.
Jess decided to feign ignorance for now, saying in a causal manner, "Yeah, it's a pity I can't stay for longer, I'd still like a crack at the attic."
"Why not?" The instant retort narrowly missed the end of his sentence.
"Er, well." Caught the fish in one... he hadn't expected Leslie to shift tactics so quickly and directly, strange. "I guess I could, although I'd have to ask my mum to see if she was okay with it, it shouldn't be much of a problem. Oh, and we'd have to ask your parents as well."
"Hey," Leslie said, face brightening, "that's a great idea, you can stay the whole night even. I'll ask Bill and Judy now!"
"Staying over, where?" Judy had asked slowly, as if she were digesting the words. Leslie had gotten her attention by tapping loudly on her study door, calling with a sort of jubilant glee expected of a children's comedian.
"Here, of course!" Leslie's abrupt yell startled Judy, who seemed to be not fully extracted from her writing. The older women, who had remained seated beside her desk, turned around to look at Leslie. Her oval shaped green eyes looking like they were staring at something from a great distance.
"Here..." Judy frowned, as if confronted with a key on the keyboard she'd never seen before. Jess was just trying not to gape at a cartoon drawing of an obese extended family gorging on babies; the image hanging sinisterly above Judy's computer, flapping slightly in the wind.
"Hhhhmmm." Leslie rubbed her chin. There was a relaxed atmosphere between the pair as Leslie took the cue to glide into Judy's study; staring at a garden gnome, who was lying on the floor smoking a pipe, with an air of familiarity – wait, why did Judy have a gnome in her study? "I suppose my room, although it might be kinda small. Jess, where do you want to go?"
"Eh," Jess shook his head to recover from the gnome's obscene stare. "I guess the living room is fine."
"Of course," Leslie began, clicking her fingers. "The golden room, good idea – Judy, what do you think?"
"I see..." Judy started, but then Jess' eye were ensnared by a painting he couldn't find the words to describe. It shone out from the other paintings in the study like a beacon. Lord, it was...
Jess attempted to breathe in the spiralling yellow orbs, contrasting peacefully with the sombre blue sky; auras interconnected like clockwork, weaving together, moving continuously like dial machinery rather than paint, a painting within a painting.
Lord, he felt a sudden burning sensation in his chest, and that was only the start of it! There was the black tower at the forefront, straining and desperate to connect with the sky's all encompassing majesty. To the helping of tiny buildings in the centre, who surely had to feel awe and even trepidation every time they dared to look up, the sky threatening to fall down on top of them at any moment, such was its size.
It was far too much for two eyes to handle. He needed four or five just to feel like he'd grasped the true feeling emitted from the sky, any less and he felt like he was missing something so vital walking away was impossible.
A feeling of respect, of pride washed over him as sweater than normal air filled his nostrils to the brim. Someone had managed to paint this, no, had achieved this. Managed to show what was possible. Lord, if only he could...
"Jess, what are," Leslie interrupted his reverie, following his entrenched gaze with interest. "Ah, Vincent Van Gogh, a good choice."
Jess felt his face grow hot, he must've zoned out for a while as Judy was standing as well, staring at him with a complex expression that he was too mortified to linger on.
He needed to control himself better! It was rude to gawk at things like that. This is exactly what his father had been talking about earlier. Focus on the real world, the here and now.
"Jess is going to be an artist too," Leslie assured Judy, pride and confidence evident in her tone as she added, "he's already really good."
Judy smiled, the first concrete expression he'd seen on her face. "I see..."
He was sure Judy tilted her head at him then, although why she would nod and what she could 'see' was beyond him.
Leslie clapped her hands together. "Now for Bill, come on."
Jess was confused as to why Leslie felt it necessary to ask both of her parents for the same thing.
"They both live here," she said distractedly, tightening her grip on his wrist as they climbed the stairs, the force of Leslie Burke demanding rather than compelling.
His mother was a much more brief and familiar course to negotiate. Her eyes never left the dish she was scrubbing. Jess nervously entering the kitchen. Stomach tightening into knots as her name stuck on his tongue. He was painfully aware that if he rubbed her the wrong way he'd not only be knee deep in extra chores. But have the added weight of May Belle clinging to his leg begging to come.
Thankfully she nodded gruffly without fuss. Eyes scrunched in concentration. Muscular arms swishing to and fro with precision. Much like he had earlier but with an entirely different demeanour. She was content, it appeared, so long as he was safe and out of her hair so the dishes could be finished. This, by all accounts, was more than he could've hoped. He rushed back to the Burke's like a bullet. Unwillingly to give her time to change her mind.
As the last remnants of Sun finally receded, Leslie grew, if it were physically possible, even more excitable than usual.
"Ah, I've never had a sleepover before," she said, confessing that she'd always wondered what they were like. Jess nodded, a strange prickly heat making his back stand a little straighter than usual.
An array of food was a must, years of experience with Brenda and Ellie had taught him that. The only requirement being they be easily within reach, throwable and cavity-inducing. Staying up late was the main agenda, so measures had to be taken to make it worthwhile. A scary story or even a visit to Terabithia crossed Jess' mind.
After that was taken care of one needed to acquire a straight-to-DVD movie so crappy it was paradoxically hilarious. Unfortunately the Burke house possessed neither T.V nor DVD player meaning that improvisation was necessary.
With inhuman hearing Bill had commandeered the task of storytelling suggested by Leslie, citing that it'd been so long since he'd experienced a sleepover that he couldn't just let this one go to pot. Judy, not to be out done, attempted to drown out the subtle inflections in Bill's delivery with the radio.
It was on old, dusty thing; with a large orange circular gauge that you had to treat gently or it would squeal with interference.
"Mum," Bill paused amidst his story, head creeping up over the book. "I believe I have finally discovered who killed the Radio Star."
Watching Bill and Judy, it was like an itch Jess couldn't stop scratching. It only grew more painful. He knew Leslie liked to 'understand' her parents, but he still couldn't quite wrap his head around two grown ups acting so casually in his presence, like an equal. Parents were there to tell you to do this or that, to ask for money if you were Brenda and Ellie and to scold when you were perceived as doing wrong.
Thankfully Leslie never noticed his discomfort, too busy 'ooing' and awing' at Bill's exaggerated deliver like a spellbound audience that would make even a seasoned performer weep with joy.
After Bill and Judy had come to blows – with cushions at least – they had retired to continue their bickering upstairs, leaving Jess and Leslie to sort out themselves.
There was a brief bump in the road when Jess realised with embarrassment that he didn't have a sleeping bag of his own. He'd nonchalantly shrugged it off, claiming he was quite happy with the floor before Leslie had slyly positioned herself beside him.
"Ah, the floor, I've never done this before, sounds like fun." She surreptitiously placed the sleeping bag horizontally behind them both as a makeshift pillow, forcefully announcing,"I'll sleep here too."
Sleepovers became something of a weekly tradition for the pair over the years after that. No matter the week, it was always the highlight. One constant in an ever-changing world, whether at Leslie's or in Terabthia during the summer, a chance for both of them to 'offload' without fear of reprisal.
Leslie would always find new and exciting things to do or to be. With anyone else he'd feel like an idiot talking about... stuff, but with Leslie, shedding one's ires and inclinations was not only a pleasure, but a basic need. A need as powerful as security, thirst and even hunger
"There," Jess would say, Leslie's bold spontaneity infectious. There didn't have to be a purpose with her, no wage or qualification at the end. That was the whole point. A passion for life and a passion for living.
His wayward eyes would stare upwards as he would describe; the ceiling concealed by darkness, making him feel like it stretched on forever. Past the roof; past P.T howling away; past the attic with that bizarre painting of a man riding a tricycle; past the clouds; past the sky and even the very stars.
His fingers would crack hungrily like the mouth of a starving man. Lord, how he wished to draw it, not later from poorly constructed memory but now, when the thought was still fresh and alive, intimate and bold.
"I'm used to quiet, to being quiet" he started once, months later, destination unknown. "But silence... it's so loud. This house... it's like mine, all the noise. The refrigerator, the computer, the tap water, you and me. There's even this bird, this mental bird. Every time I wake up early I hear it. 'Ka-kah' it goes, every morning at five. All the birds chirp away together and then there's this great big thing going ka-kah all of a sudden, every morning on the dot, it's crazy. Bloody mental, I love that mental bird."
"Wow, Jess." Leslie looked like Christmas, Easter and Halloween had all come at once. Finding a sudden burst of energy, she jumped onto the couch and balanced like an aerobatic on a tight rope. There was an ambient ebullience in her face; crystal clear despite the dark of night.
"It must be the artist in you," she decided, nodding. "Just this morning you were all tiny and small and made of clay. Now you can expand. Fantastic. Hah!"
Leslie with her regal tone and indefatigable spring of step made everything sound so straightforward and plausible, but surely there was more to it than that?
"Do you really think I can do it, you know, be an artist?"
"Of course!" she said, pointing at him sternly with mock accusation. "Why would you ask such a thing?"
"Its, I'm just..." He hesitated for a second, shrugging his shoulders self-deprecatingly. "You know, all those fancy names like Van Gogh or Da Vinci, and I'm, just... Jess."
"Well, just Jess." Leslie's eyes narrowed like she was concocting an evil scheme, but her face then softened somewhat as she endured, words sharp and impassioned as her eyes turned misty. "Don't be put of if something looks dangerous or difficult, or is supposed to be or even really looks like it is. I mean... what's the good of your life if you're not willing to chance it? To have one shot, winner takes all, every card on the table. Like my gran always says, art is simply what you can get away with, and, and even I haven't figured that out yet."
"Really?" Jess squinted despite himself, unable to hide his surprise. A smart girl like Leslie not knowing the answer, well, it was probably enough to make Mrs Myers pack her bags and go home.
Leslie blushed slightly, waving her arms widely to rouse herself. "It's not for anyone to say, everyone has to discover it for themselves, look beyond the monotony of school, work, marriage, going home to watch T.V and eat chips – oh, so boring, there's more to it, there has to be. There's more than this. "
Jess closed his eyes, letting himself be taken away by Leslie's words not just to him, but the entire world. He let the power behind every decibel lift him into the sky, flying as she set the course: next stop everywhere. But then, as her speech drew to a close he worried, sweating almost as he wondered if he could truly follow. He, Jess Aarons, a dumb kid from Lark Creek...
"What if it's not enough, you know? Not everyone gets what they want. My Dad says." He shifted uncomfortably. "Er, that change is, well, it happens, no matter what you do. Nothing stays the same, and we have to get on with it."
"Ah, fantastic." If Leslie had a tail it'd be wagging right about now. "Remember that there are explanations earned, and explanations that are completely and utterly common sense, taken for granted."
"Then how do you decide which is which?"
"Take a wild guess. Usually works for me," she said, nonplussed as she brushed imaginary dust from her top.
"A guess!" He sort of stuttered a bit, unsure if Leslie was only joking now. "What if you get it wrong?"
"Then kick and scream, through the toys out of the pram," Leslie implored, arms waving more madly than ever as she paced a hole through the floor. He honestly believed that she was about to full on dance around the room in a minute. "Join a cult and worship the spaghetti monster. Be stupid. Get angry, things never get solved by running away, or robotically accepting things. Part of the problem equals part of the solution. Something only becomes inevitable when you assume that it is. Ha!"
Her smile was growing wider and more radiant by the second. She loved people arguing with her like a spider loved something entangled in its web.
"You're bonkers," he stated. He didn't mean it in a bad way either. Jess remembered the first picture he'd seen of Einstein, tongue sticking out and hair like he'd been sleeping in an anti-gravity chamber. The first thought that had come into his mind was bonkers, that guy had to be completely bonkers to look and act like that.
"So, my King." Leslie skilfully, and seemingly at random, transformed back into the noble Queen of Terabithia. With all its rapture and grandiose that was a million miles away from everything he knew, like an alien comet had decided, on a whim, to park outside his house. "For putting up with me for so long, you are granted one request."
"A request, you say?" Jess clumsily attempted to get the regal tone down to no avail.
"Anything you want, if it is in my power, I will do it. The first thing that enters into your head. Your response will speak volumes." Leslie crouched down so their eyes were level, staring at him intently as she finished, "All you have to do is trust me."
"People always say that." He wasn't talking so much about Leslie; it was just a thing you heard a lot in life is all, his retort had even left his mouth before he'd fully registered Leslie's words.
"Do I look like people?" Their noses were almost touching now and he couldn't help but squirm a little under her dauntless, smiling gaze. Her all seeing, unflinching blue orbs, a paradox of fire and ice, terrifying and wonderful, one undeniable storm like the very heart of the Sun.
His own eyes were evasive as he said to the wall. "Just, don't forget about Lark Creek, Leslie."
"Huh?" Leslie stood up, breaking the spell. Jess felt her eyes on him, waiting for him to elaborate, but no such thing was forthcoming.
She nodded uncertainly, and then again as if reassure herself. Out of the all things in the universe, that had been his first thought, Jess Aarons' only request.
"Yes, yes. Of course," she said, smiling serenely once again, "if that's your only request then I'm duty bound to fulfil it."
He smiled gratefully, uttering his thanks. It was a joyous happy moment, the type of thing that was worth remembering.
As they chuckled together, they felt like two co-conspirators in their own small piece of the world, hiding a great big secret from everyone else, something that belonged to them, their moment. The feeling of being impervious to harm was inescapable. Freedom, that same feeling of weightlessness whenever they swung into Terabithia.
Yes, he nodded to himself. Nothing, nothing could touch them here.
"Now, about that attic," Leslie started, suddenly and ominously bursting out into a grin. "I believe there's a way to get on to the roof." She darted off before she'd even finished, desire evident.
Lord, Leslie falling off the roof and breaking her neck, yeah, that could definitely touch them. "Hey, Leslie, wait up, you'll wake your parents up."
"Ah, good idea, they can join us."
Oh, lord...
Somewhere close by a certain bird was covering for an absent fat lady; readying its throat as its wings outstretched slowly. "Ka-kah!"
II
Jess Aarons was rarely 'blessed' with dreams during rest. On the odd occasion he was, they usually took the form of fragmented and meaningless memories, the type that quickly and unavoidable slipped through one's grasp before the first whiff of breakfast.
This was unfortunately no exception. Jess tapped on his skull irritable, urging it deliver something more appealing in the future. A vision of him as a successful artist capturing some unspeakable beauty on canvas perhaps? Yes, or even Miss Edmunds singing a poignant melody about true love would suffice if his brain lacked the necessary creative spark.
Lord, he nodded, Miss Edmunds would always suffice. Jess was already looking forward to their next encounter on...
"Bloody bank holidays," the frustrated boy cursed under his breath as he felt the lure of sleep rapidly slipping away. Today had the ignominy of being called Tuesday, February 21, 2011.
While he would always be eternally grateful to whatever forces conspired to allow an extra day off school. One day, a glorified long weekend, was simply not enough to sharpen the minds dimmed by the onslaught of the evil and corrupt institution propagating the name education.
He lifted himself gravely out of bed like a worn out corpse on Halloween that didn't quite have what they were looking for on Thriller.
His dishevelled face was forcible pressed into his palm as he yawned, attempting to avoid the wrath of his sisters. May Belle in particularly had been yappering on about some dumb dodgeball game recently. Jess shook his head, he'd been playing dodgeball with her incessant chattering ever since.
"... Jesssss?" May Belle whispered with awed reverence. Unsurprised to find her already up, he warily asked why she was talking like she did in Church.
"It's huge!" May Belle said, pointing to the base of his neck. Lord, why couldn't she learn to talk-
He screamed a perfectly manly and heroic scream crafted from pure machismo and chivalry as he practically hit the ceiling. Jess clawed madly at his chest to get rid of the deceptively small monster crawling relentless up his body with nefarious intentions.
"Say this sort of thing at the beginning!" He glared at May Belle, breath ragged after the confrontation had ended and the monster had hobbled away in defeat. Unfortunately the day began its rapid decline in earnest
"What's the fuss – May Belle, are you alright, I heard a..." His father rushed into the room like a man ready for action, expression chiselled out of stone as he scouted the room for the perpetrator.
"Oh no, Daddy, it was only Jess," May Belle said so matter-of-factly, Jess was a saint for not renouncing her on the spot. "He got scared about this incy bitsy bug, it's fine now."
Jesse Oliver Aarons Sr scorn turned towards his only son, an expression that needed no interpretation on his face. Jess sunk back into his bed hoping it might take pity and gobble him up.
"Jess," his father said tonelessly. "The boys are having a drink this Friday. Some of the guys are talking up new jobs at Ardie's. It would be good for you to come."
Mercifully his father went to work soon after, the faithful 'birripity' of the truck irritating him more than usual.
"Great," he said aloud as he heard May Belle innocently waking up Joyce Ann, completely and utterly oblivious to her treachery.
Eventually habit kicked in and he grudgingly got ready, catching the bus by a whisker as always and then disengaging May Belle and Joyce Ann with their friends for some respite.
Leslie was absent today. He would've been more concerned if not for his suffocating melancholy, which dismissed her absence as most likely the result of a cold or something. She had been a little quiet on Friday when he'd stayed over, he reasoned.
In any case the eternal ray of sunshine that was Mrs Myers was enough to preoccupy him.
"March, April, May." She clicked her fingers for emphasis. "It'll go like that, but the excuses about not revising won't. This is why I've set out an extensive programme of revision, including mock exams on the topics decided on by the new Education Committee. Any questions?"
Lord, why do people assume that teenagers and children are these blank pages just waiting to be written on and have no ideas or opinions of their own?
Myers continued to drone on with incandescent rage at a chip on her shoulder to 'pull your socks up', the 'time of plenty was over' and it was now time for everyone to 'curtail their greed, take responsibility for the next generation' etc etc.
Jess shook his head, he didn't remember having 'plenty' to begin with, never mind getting greedy. Oh, and she started rambling about some daft committee coming to inspect the school, and how they should be on their best behaviour from now on or Mr Turner, the principle, would be having words. If they were all to act different from normal, didn't that defy the whole point of an inspection?
Mercifully school came and went with all the attention it deserved. After completing his routinely disproportionate amount of after-school chores for the day, Jess Aarons trudged back to his room, wasting his last on opening his beloved scrapbook which figuratively captured all the things in his 'good pile'.
Leslie had given it to him a while back so he was loathe to use up a page on a silly homework assignment that served no practical purpose whatsoever. Still, he remembered Judy suggesting in one of her 'unstuck' moments that life was basically an amalgamation of good things and bad. They existed in two different piles and everyone's was different. The trick was in how you weighed them.
He guessed it wouldn't hurt to see:
This morning I got up, got attacked by a venomous monster, got ready for school, ate breakfast, took the bus to school, learned, fell asleep at lunch like everyone else after Monster Mouth reached the 50 minute mark, wrote out the proper way to live, woke up, ate lunch while pretending to work in class, got bored with work, went home, did Brenda's chores again, played with May Belle, made Joyce Ann's dinner, had mine outside with Miss Bessie, went upstairs to open up my scrapbook and do this crummy homework assignment about my day.
He stared at the words with disgust. Who wants to read about that? Lord, it even bored him!
When an encounter with an insect was your most exciting and thought provoking 'event' in the daily drudgery of life, you knew you were scraping the bottom of the proverbial barrel. Jess sighed, feeling like a picked-at-random extra in a movie to give the setting some much needed 'realism'.
He knew he should really start revising for the looming exams, but the whole day had depressed the hell ought of him for some reason.
Jess discarded his pen when he heard his sisters climbing upstairs, collapsing back into his insect ridden bed once again before they could disturb him.
"Do what you want," he said to no one in particular, drifting away to sleep, "I don't care any more..."
Lord, tomorrow was another day. Nothing to see here except a repeat, the only thing that could possible thrive in Lark Creek's turgid atmosphere.
How boring.
Author's Confessions: For those that read the original version, apologies for the delay. I've decided, after great thought of course, to revise this story a little. This chapter can be considered a prologue whereas 2-6 are more or less the same with some revision and improvements. Just to reemphasise, this story isn't a rewrite, it's merely been improved (I hope).
I feel this chapter serves as a necessary buffer between the original material and the fanfiction. I did worry that this may seem like undercooked psychoanalysis, a silly and needless flashback outwith the story. But the more I thought about it, I figured that for a character to go from A to B in a story, you need to first show them at A in some capacity. I don't consider the first part of this chapter a dream, it just so happens that Jess was recalling previous events at the same time as the reader got a crash course.
Thanks for reading and feedback is always appreciated
Shamo9