Yes, I am submitting another chapter to this one. But I have a good reason.
Remember how, when I started posting this story, I did so on days that Heather's story took place on? Well, today, November 19, 2018, marks the day that THIS part of the story starts.
So... I might have skipped over a lot by not submitting. But I was busy, so it's justified.
Anyway, enjoy this next part.
Heather waits at the small table in Steve's kitchen for one of her friends to arrive. Nikki was just there, helping her get ready for the day, which wasn't much really, and then said that someone would be there in less than five minutes to occupy her time and keep her company.
It has been two minutes and Heather wishes she could stand, walk around the corner, and see who it is.
A minute later, Finn pokes his head into the kitchen, "Morning," he says, remembering not to speak too loud. Heather nods. Finn reveals the rest of his body, and the bag he's carrying.
"…What's that?" Heather asks.
Finn puts it on the table, but the noise makes Heather jump. "Sorry. This is what I thought we could do today. If you're okay with it," Finn says quickly.
Heather nods. He then opens the bag and takes out a stack of blank paper, a few coloring books, and an array of coloring tools including markers, crayons, pencils, pens, and even a little paint.
"What would you like to do?" Finn asks.
Heather looks over everything. She then selects the coloring book closest too her. Then she looks at the coloring materials. She looks up, "…Can I have the crayons?"
Finn moves them closer to her, opening the box for her. He then picks a blank paper and starts with a pencil. Heather looks through the crayons, then realizes something.
"There are no reds in here?"
Finn looks up, "I remembered that you didn't react well to it before. So I took out all the red. I even opted to remove the dark oranges, too."
"…Oh," Heather says.
"I packed them all at the back of the bag. If you think you can handle it, then I can take out a few," Finn says softly.
Heather thinks about it, then shakes her head, "Maybe later…"
She selects a purple crayon and starts coloring the dress of the character on her paper.
Finn watches her somberly for a moment, then goes back to his own drawing. He pauses, then takes another paper out. He starts to draw with a marker. When he's done, he goes over it again, saturating the paper with the same colors.
Heather notices what he's doing, stopping her own coloring to watch. He then puts his fingers on the drawing and closes his eyes. There's a small burst of light, not enough to avert the eyes, over the drawing. He takes his hands back. The butterfly follows him, its wings green and yellow while the body is bright blue.
Heather watches it flight between them, twice the size of her hand. The entire thing looks to be made of paper. It turns about as if a wind propels it. Then the bottom of the wings start to fade in color. It continues until it reaches the tips of the butterfly's antenna, then the whole things pauses in mid air and crumbles to nothing.
Heather looks at the paper, seeing that nothing remains. "…You did that?"
"Yeah, it's my power," Finn states, flexing his fingers, "I like to call it color-pathy. Nikki says it's actually Palletakinesis."
Heather doesn't laugh, or smile. She simply hesitates at first, then asks, "Can you do it again?"
Finn smiles for her, "Got anything in mind?"
When Finn and Heather finish their session, which included a few dozen different creations, one well drawn still of a bowl of carrots, a half finished coloring book page, and a minor breakdown when Heather tried to handle a red crayon, the artist was relieved of duty.
Josh takes his place, bringing his own paper and pencils with him. He sits down, but sees that Heather is antsy. "Heather, what's wrong?"
Heather looks around, then turns to him, "Can we go to the dining room?"
He nods, then hands her the materials. He pushes her wheelchair to the new room and sets up Heather with lined paper and a pencil.
"…What are we doing?"
"I thought we could just write for a little," Josh says, "and… I brought some books to read if you get bored."
"…You want to improve my handwriting," Heather realizes.
"Well… August suggested I teach you what I've been learning in class. But I decided to ignore that and instead let you write whatever you want. It can be the same sentence repeated over and over. Practice makes one better."
"…What will you be working on?" Heather asks.
"An essay."
"For school?"
Josh pauses a second, then shakes his head, "For a blog."
"…Oh."
Josh realizes Heather isn't very happy with his choice of activity, "If you want to do something else-"
He stops when he gets a hint of her head moving. "…I could… I mean maybe… I could…"
Josh catches what she's fumbling over, "write how you're feeling? Or just things you've gone through, good or bad?"
Heather waits a moment, then nods.
"Sounds like a great idea. And if that is too stressful, you can write, 'August is a poopy head' over and over instead."
"Josh."
The two writing look up to see August waiting.
"It's eleven," he reminds.
Josh checks the clock, then sighs. "Looks like my time is up," he tells Heather.
"Oh… okay," Heather says.
"You can keep working on that," Josh states, "I'll check back later, kay? I'll be at lunch."
Heather nods in response. Josh then packs up his stuff, and gives August his chair. August sits and takes out some materials. "Did you look at the worksheets?"
Heather doesn't look up, or acknowledge him.
"…Heather."
"What?"
"Did you finish them?"
"Finish what?"
"The worksheets I asked Josh to give you."
"No… He didn't give me worksheets," Heather states, still writing on the paper. August peeks at her pages, finding them filled with different sentences, that really all mean the same thing.
"Of course he didn't," August mutters. He reaches into his bag, "Luckily I brought copies."
He puts them in front of her. She doesn't acknowledge them.
"Heather."
She then slowly moves her eyes. She sees the math equations, however simple, filling the page. She moves her eyes back to her sentences. "No."
"Heather-"
"I told you I don't want to do school."
"What about when you do finally go back to school? You don't want to fall behind."
"Maybe I don't care."
"What about getting your diplo-?"
Heather looks at him, moving faster than she has all day, let alone all week. "I. Don't. Care," she says, "what will it do me anyway? I'm an invalid. I'm useless. And I don't care about math. I know math, but… I can't… I can't, I can't, I…" Heather holds her head, "it hurts to think. It hurts to focus. You don't…" she shudders a sigh, "you don't understand."
August restrains from saying, 'I know more than you'd think,' but instead, he pulls the papers back. "Maybe… if I read one to you-"
"No."
"-You could try to solve it," August presses, "I'll start with an easy one. What's-"
"August just shut up, please!" Heather pleads.
August stares at her, seeing the tears streaming down her face. He knows that he did that; a part of him feels as though a blunt object bludgeoned it, but he knows he can't resolve the situation. He doesn't have that power.
Nikki walks into the room, "August." He looks over at her. "Let me take over."
August looks back at Heather, then stands. He walks out of the room and Nikki takes the chair next to Heather. Both are silent for a moment.
"…You have a Bible in your room," Nikki says softly. Heather doesn't answer. "…Do you believe?"
Nikki watches Heather struggle silently with the question.
"…I don't know," Heather answers quietly, "after… everything. …How can I?"
Nikki moves closer. She then lifts a hand, which is holding a tissue, and wipes Heather's tears away.
"…In a world so cruel, how can you not?" Nikki asks.
Heather looks at Nikki. She's smiling. "You…"
"I want to be here for you, Heather. Through our differences," Nikki puts her hand on Heather's gently. "But I know only He can help you heal."
Heather tears up, "How can I believe that? Why would He let me go through all of this?"
Nikki doesn't know the answer, so she stays quiet. Heather stares off in front of her, remembering her capture.
"…I was alone, Nikki. I couldn't sense Him, or feel Him. Like He left me."
"He has never left you, Heather," Nikki implores gently.
Heather sniffs, wiping her eyes though they still tear up. She looks at Nikki, "Do they know? Do your friends know about your faith?"
Nikki purses her lips, "…No."
"Why don't you tell them?"
"What would they think?" Nikki asks back.
Heather wants to ask Nikki what God would think of her actions, but doesn't. She doesn't have the right to question Nikki when she is doubting her own faith. The girls are quiet for a minute more, then Nikki heads for the door.
"Wait," Heather says.
Nikki turns back.
"…Did you bring your gloves?"
Nikki smiles, nodding. "Be right back." She leaves, only to return after a minute with the gloves. They are a little more clunky than normal gloves, with a few wires along them. It's also made of a metal looking material. Nikki shows Heather the inside, how it's padded for her hands, also protecting them from the chemical reaction they create. She then puts them on, demonstrating with some materials on hand.
Heather doesn't have many questions, since she doesn't understand half of the concepts Nikki brings up. 'She's right, we are really different,' Heather decides.
Eventually, Nikki lets Heather go back to her simple sentences. She sees what they say, but can't find it in her to address them. 'Lord, please show her the worth she has in You,' Nikki prays, 'that she isn't useless, worthless, or broken.'
I almost had this be them tutoring her. But that wouldn't have gone well.
So only August is trying that.
And yes, Nikki is Christian. I'm trying to add my faith into the story. ...I'll try to not make it all cheesy and cliche like some Christian based stuff is.
The plan to delete Country Lass: Origin in January is still in effect! (When I put up the revision, it will have a new title, too :D)
Until next chapter! Which I might not get up till the New Year.
Or I'll surprise even myself...
Created to Write