Jaylea's name is pronounced Jay-Lee. I know this is slow going so please be patient with me. I'm not completely sure what I want to do with this story, pretty much going along with it and trying to see where it'll end up. Please review. I wanna know if this story is worth continuing. Thanks.
My name is Jaylea. On July 4th, 2006 I played outside with my little brother Philip. I had just turned 9 two weeks before. It was twilight; I remember the fire flies dancing around. Philip thought they were stars. We played with fire works while our parents were in the back yard grilling with the rest of our family. They didn't know what we were up to. The rest is kinda fuzzy, I remember lighting another one and standing too close. The sparks went crazy and then it exploded in my face. The pain made me pass out but not before Philips piercing scream cut through the night air like a blade.
I lost my sight that day. It's been 9 years ever since.
"Jaylea Tia Moore, come on!" I hate it when mom uses my full name.
We're leaving for Forks now. My mom thinks that moving, running away, is the best solution for when things so wrong. Mom is a baker, one of the best I've ever met. She can turn some frosting into a perfect replica of any shape or form, her cakes, pies, cookies, pudding, it's all amazing. I used to wanna be a baker too. Not anymore.
This time we're leaving because mom yelled at her boss and got fired. Also because I got in a fight at school and was suspended.
"I'm right here mom." I mutter going to stand by her, following the scent of her vanilla perfume to the car. I don't know what my mom looks like but from my memory she has golden ringlets and cat-like green eyes, her smile can bring out the best in people, her hugs heel broken arms and scraped knees and … okay, I may be exaggerating a little bit here but still. I don't remember what I look like and I've never asked anyone. It just aint something I've ever been preoccupied with.
"Philip!" Mom called over to where Philip was sitting with his girlfriend, Cathy; I can smell his deodorant and her coconut shampoo, one of the perks of being blind- your other sense are enhanced. Just turned 13 two months ago and the boy already has a girlfriend. I didn't have my first boyfriend till I was 15! And it lasted for two weeks! Unbelievable…
I hear him say goodbye and smell salt water tears starting to run down Cathy's face. Poor kid.
Lucky for me, I only had to say goodbye to two people, Mitchell and Anna, who really weren't my friends but just separate loners who needed a table to sit at during lunch.
I hear Philips footsteps running up to us and raise my hand just as he's climbing in the car to ruffle his hair. From what I remember, Philip has golden blond hair and fair skin but every time I think of my lovable little brother I picture the tiny, angelic 4 year old boy from my memories. I have to remind myself sometimes that he's taller now.
I climb in after him, taking my seat and buckling in.
I hear mom fondling around her purse for the car keys but she finds them at last. The engine roars to life and were off. The tires moving over the concrete fills my ears but I tune it out with the radio, mom adores classical music and she pops in a CD of Chopin.
"Alright, you both will be going to Forks High. Philip your skipping a grade so you'll be a freshman," I hear the movement of the air as Philip pumps his fist up and hiss a "yes!" Mom continues ignoring him. "Jaylea you'll be a senior, see if you can get a fellow student to help show … uh, help you get around." She changes her words quickly remember that I can't see anything anyone tries to show me.
I hate the first few weeks of a new school, having to memorize how many steps between each class, in the hall, the stairs, etc. And of course always people treating the new girl like she's a retard. I'm blind people! Not stupid!
Nobody is my family is stupid at all really. Philip is smart enough to skip his 8th grade year apparently. Dad was smart enough to be a brain surgeon. Moms really smart too, she's the only reason I passed physics, let alone any other math related subject.
I rest my head back and try to imagine Forks, last night Philip and I had looked up info on the small town with the oh so handy Internet. He had read the words to me and described what it looked like from the minimal amount of pictures. He had read, "'Forks is in the heart of the Olympic Peninsula, between the Olympic Mountains and the Pacific Ocean beaches. The population was 3,120 at the 2000 census. Forks is under a near constant over-cast and it rains just about everyday…'" Pretty soon we decided this was boring and I made him some blueberry pancakes, his favorite, for dinner. I had dubbed Forks boring after about the first sentence but I loved listening to his voice too much to ask him to shut up. Philips voice is so clear, and gentle. It's still young too not fully developed.
I'm usually the one making us dinner; mom was working pretty late at this job. She worked at some restaurant making the deserts. Perfect job for mom.
I'm not exactly sure when my thoughts became my dream…
I was 9, sitting down in our old kitchen on the tiled floor. It was hot; mom was just taking some brownies out of the oven.
I used to love watching mom cook she always got so engrossed in what she made. Her face was the mask of both peace and focus.
"Jaylea?" Mom is peering down at me now with a worried expression. She looks exactly like she does from my memories.
With a chill racing up my spine I notice the dark blurriness of the edges of my dream. The darkness grows, slowly covering my eyes like a blanket. Back then I was terrified of the dark. I remember waking up in the middle of the night screaming because I couldn't see. Then I couldn't see during the day or night.
"Jay-" Moms voice is cut off when I'm suddenly jerked awake.
"What?" I ask, my eyes flying open jumping in my seat.
"Wake up Jaylea we're here." Philips voice murmurs around a yawn. What time is it? Getting out of the car I notice the distinct change in atmosphere from before. The sun must either be down or it's over-cast; I feel no heat on my face or bare arms. The wind blows sharply and I shudder, wishing I'd remembered what Philip had said about the weather in Forks and had not wore a tank-top and blue jeans. Bad idea.
"Here," Philips voice is closer now, outside the car with me. "It's your blue Jefferson High hoodie." I feel the soft fabric against my arms and pull it on. I've had this school sweat shirt since 10th grade in Oregon.
"Thanks."
"Anytime." I love the sincerity I hear in his voice.
"Okay, let's get our stuff inside then." Moms soprano voice says from where I'm guessing is behind the trunk… yeah, her vanilla perfume is coming from back there… the wind will definitely be helpful when it comes to my sense of smell. "Jaylea, I got your viola with me I'll put it in your room."
I always get a little uneasy whenever someone touches my viola. It's not like I can see what their doing.
I reach in and swing my backpack over my shoulder and grab my other two bags in my hands, recognizing them because there the only ones with leather handles. I follow Philips footsteps into the house; mom must be holding the door open.
"I can smell the rain getting ready to come down," I tell mom this as I walk by.
"Well, we only have one more bag. I'll get it!" Her voice carries off in the direction of the car and I hear her slam the trunk.
"Okay Jaylea," Philips voice is somewhat serious next to me, "There's 15 stairs about 5 or 6 feet in front of you. To your left is the kitchen to you right is the living room. I'll show you your room." This is our standard routine for a new house. I'll have to memorize exactly how many foot steps between each area and so on. I'm used to it; it used to drive me crazy though.
I follow his voice and his footsteps keeping pace with mine next to me as we make our way up the stairs. Philip is always humming or something, out of habit, so I know precisely where he is. He really doesn't need to do that nowadays though since I've gotten used to the smell of his deodorant and clean-smelling guy shampoo.
He was right about the 15 stairs part.
"Alright so to your left appears to be a bathroom, the only one. To your right is my room, roughly 5 feet away is your room also to the right. A closet is across from your room and at the end is a window." He opens the doors. I listen to the familiar sound, and then tap the glass of the window.
"Moms room?" I ask.
"Down stairs, the living room leads into it."
I swallow and think about where he said my bedroom was and the sound of him opening the door, the click as he closed it. Philip is silent but I know he's still there, I can hear the subtle sound of his breathing.
I put the bag I'd been holding in my right hand down and slowly, cautiously, raise my hand. The feel of cool wood answers my wandering fingers and I slide my hand down to where I presume the door knob to be. It takes a few seconds but my hand eventually finds the cold brass, I turn it and push. The door opens; I feel the change in the air against my face.
Philip grabs my bag and walks in with me. He must have recently gone through a growth spurt; his footsteps are so much clumsier now.
"How tall are you Philip?"
"Uh, 5'8 last I checked. Mom thinks I grew a couple more inches though."
"Huh, you're taller than me." I say, remembering the last time mom had taken me to the doctors for a check-up. They measured me at 5'6.
Philip chuckles and I try to picture the 4 year old boy from my memories as a 5'8 teenager. I couldn't.
"So, what's my room look like?" I ask, taking slow steps forward till my legs bumped into something soft.
"That's your bed. It's twin-sized and your viola is on it too. Uh, the walls are white, the floor is wood, there's a desk right here," he says this tapping on the wood of the desk, "for your computer I guess. Um, there's a bookshelf right here," I follow his voice with my unseeing eyes and he taps the bookshelf. "There's a small closet and dresser." He knocks on these both walking past the. "Two windows on both sides of your bed. No curtains or anything. Two matching nightstand on both sides of you bed too." His voice wanders over in front of me, a little to the left standing, where I guess, must be the window because he's tapping on the glass. "And that's just about it. You want me to help ya get all your stuff set up?"
"No that's fine. You go check out your room; I'll survive a few moments alone I think." It's a little bitter joke we have, how you'll very rarely ever find us without the other.
I haul my bags to rest on my bed and open the one with my Hopkinsville High Tigers key-chain, from the two months we spent in Kentucky; this one has all my clothes, my quilt, and pillow. I make my bed, having to re-do it a few times when I noticed I put it all on wrong. Then I set to the task of getting all my clothes in the proper drawers and closet hangers. This takes some time because I have to check each item before I put it in to make sure it's not really a skirt when I think it's a shirt or something like that. Finally I've finished with the first bag.
One down, two to go.
My second bag has some house warming things I pretty much take with me wherever we go. Its a few posters, despite the fact I can't see them I still like having them, some jewelry, really just two pairs of fake diamond earrings which I never wear and a ring that I have to keep around a chain because its too small for my fingers, alarm clock that says out load what time it is when I press a button, and all my toiletries. After getting all this set up I take to my backpack.
My backpack is pretty much full of books, Braille written of course. I love reading, even if it is just by touch. I'm stuck in the middle of In Search of Lost Time by Marcel Proust right now so I don't put this up on the shelf I just toss it on the bed hearing is soft thump.
"Hey, dinner will be done in half an hour." Moms voice says from the doorway, she always speaks softly when she's coming up behind me 'cause she's afraid she'll scare me. I heard her footsteps coming up the stairs and her breathing as she stood in my doorway watching me put up my things. It's kinda hard to surprise me nowadays.
"M'kay." I mutter more to myself than to her. Moms' footsteps move down the stairs and she hums quietly to herself in the kitchen.
Finally finished unpacking I press the large, familiar button on my alarm clock.
5:14 p.m., the monotonous voice announces. I still got awhile till time to eat so I lay down on my bed, resting on my stomach with my feet crosses in the air. I open In Search of Lost Time and start off where I left. My sensitive finger tips trace along the lines feeling the raised bumps.
"C' Mon, Jaylea. Time for dinner." Philips voice calls from the doorway. I'd been so entranced in my latest novel that I hadn't heard his approach or breathing, for the first time in a long time I was startled. But I hid it well and, after placing my bookmark on the page, trudged down the stairs not feeling very hungry.
Turning left I found my bare feet on top of cold tiles and the appetizing smell of steak and potatoes filled my nostrils. "Mom, I'm not really hungry right now."
"You should eat something DJ; you got a big day tomorrow." Moms voice spoke, she must be sitting down her voice came from below me. Mom is actually 5'8 so she has to be sitting down.
"I'm really not hungry." I say again.
Mom sighs, Philip is cutting his steak, and the knife scraps the plate before he stops. I cringe at the noise.
Mom doesn't say anything but I can imagine her pursed lips and furrowed brow. I make my way back up the stairs and close my door behind me.
I fall on my bed, a bit on intention, and keeping my face buried in the pillow start tracing my fingers over the bumps of my current reading.
By the time I stopped my clock told me it was 12:48 p.m. Ugh. Great, not only will I be the new, blind kid tomorrow at school but I'll also have trouble keeping my eyes open. Just great.
Philips television alarms me. What the hell is he doing still up? I groan as I push myself up and the bed squeaks loudly.
"Philip, why are you still up?" I ask opening his door, forgetting to knock yet again. Oh, well.
"Eh, can't sleep. And its only Saturday you know. We don't have school till Monday. I was wondering whether mom reminded you of that or not."
"Well, she did not." I say going to sit next to him, tousling his hair as I do. "What are you watching?" I ask trying to make sense of all the voice coming from the tiny TV set.
"It's a commercial for some day spa in Port Angelus." He says around a yawn.
"You should go to sleep." His breathing sounds tired.
"Yeah I could say the same to you big 'sis." I can hear the smirk in his voice.
"Why can't you sleep?" I ask.
His shoulder shrugs against mine. "Just can't."
"Wanna go for a walk? Get a feel on the town?"
"Okay." He says suddenly awake and chirpy. He helps me up and guides me outta his room, since I haven't gotten used to it yet, with his hand on the small of my back. We tip-toe quietly down the stairs as to not wake mom which isn't totally necessary. Mom is one of the deepest sleepers I've ever met.
I never changed out of my hoodie and jeans and Philip grabbed himself a jacket on our way out.
We usually do this every time we move someplace new; it makes it easier the next day. Especially for me if I know what to expect.
Philip is murmuring everything around us in careful description. We only have one neighbor that he can see and even that house is awhile away. It's a two-story and has a police cruiser in it and a big tree.
After about half an hour more on walking and listening I begin to smell the rain planning on coming down on us.
"We better head back, it's gonna rain soon." I say and we start a haste walk back to the house.
"So what do ya think of our new town?" Philip asks as we climb up the stairs.
"It's very … quant. Small. Simple. Probably won't be hard to adjust to." I say.
"That's good. See ya in the morning Jaylea."
"See ya." I mumble, the tendrils of sleep starting to pull me under. I hear the click of Philip closing his door and mine follows soon after.
I crawl under my quilt and try to drone out the rain beating against my windows. I can't so I grab my CD player, plug it in, and after shuffling through my CD's I decide on something peaceful. I put in Bach, Air on a G String. I allow my mind to be carried away on the soft music.