A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews everyone, they keep me going!
Chapter 21
Small Change, Big Impact
THE NEW EARTH
Lark Creek, Virginia, Lark Creek Junior High, Nurse's Office
"He's waking up, I think."
Sure enough, Ms. Adams, the school nurse, was correct. Jess was stirring on his cot, moaning quietly to himself.
"Ugh." He groaned, shielding his eyes with the back of his hand. There were so many bright lights in this room that it almost made him sick. His head throbbed, and all he could remember was hearing Leslie's voice, clear as day. He couldn't remember what she had said, exactly, but he did remember how sweet and melodic she had sounded, even more than she had three years ago. He now remembered that Leslie had been concerned for him –why, he couldn't recall- and how angelic her face had looked.
"Jesse? Are you awake?" A voice asked.
Still dizzy and confused, he assumed the speaker was the person –if you could call her that- he had most recently spoken to.
"Leslie?"
"Leslie? No, Jesse, this is Ms. Adams, the nurse."
Still tired, all Jess could utter was another "Ugh," as he tried to push himself up off the cot. Ms. Adams, however, pushed him right back down.
"Stay put, young man, while I check to make sure you're in tip-top shape."
Flopping back down listlessly, he squinted in the light and rubbed his forehead feverishly.
"Where am I?" He managed.
"The nurse's office, as one should be, in your condition." Ms. Adams answered back crisply, not looking up from the package of disposable thermometers she was trying to open.
"In my condition? What do you mean?"
"You fainted. Fainted dead away."
"Dead?" Jess squeaked, as Leslie's fourteen year old face flashed through his mind. He now remembered their "conversation" inside his head, and how she had warned him about a girl named Samantha. Her last words to him rang in his mind:
"I'm sorry for what's about to happen."
Did she mean the fainting? Or the girl named Samantha, the one who haunted his dreams…
"It's just an expression, child!" The nurse exclaimed, snapping him out of his trance.
"Oh yeah, sorry."
"Humph."
Vision now clear, Jess surveyed his surroundings:
A small, clean, pale blue room with many cabinets and medical instruments on the walls. Another cot sat beside his own, covered in a strip of white crepe paper and a thin pillow with no real cover- only another piece of crepe paper. A clear rod hung from the ceiling, and a blue curtain was pushed to the side, near the other cot, so he could see in front of him.
A small white counter with what seemed to be hundreds of narrow, yet spacious, rectangular drawers was nestled contentedly under a window the spanned the length of the unit. The window showed the front office of the school, where secretaries and librarians were running around with papers and files and talking to one another from room to room.
Ms. Adams herself was by the counter, still fiddling tirelessly with the thermometer box. The nurse was probably in her mid-fifties, tall and bony with long, salt-and-pepper hair that was always slicked back into a low bun. Sometimes, mixed with that salt-and-pepper hair you could see a tiny gold chain. That gold chain held a pair of golden half-moon glasses, which often slid off her bird-like, bony, crooked nose. She wore practically the same outfit everyday: Brown loafers with bobby socks, a long straight-cut cotton skirt that showed only the tiniest bit of her socks, and a crisp button down blouse with a collar.
"Ahh…HA!" Ms. Adams cried suddenly, and suddenly the package of thermometers flew open. Smiling to herself, she selected a thermometer from the box and walked over to the cot. She placed it under his tongue and gave him a stern look –a look like one might give a large, hairy dog that had a habit of jumping on beds when he wasn't supposed to- and exited the office for a moment.
Fiddling with the thermometer under his tongue, Jess pushed himself up on his elbows and peered out the window. Ms. Adams was talking to someone. He could only see the back of the person's head, but it looked quite a bit like Mr. Sullivan. Now the nurse was now done with her chat, and she was coming back into the office. He quickly lay back down.
Without a word, she entered the office and extracted the thermometer.
"Your temperature is a bit higher than it should be. How's your head feeling?"
"Bad. Like I have a really horrible cold."
"Mm. And the rest of you?"
"Achy, sore. My neck hurts about as bad as my head."
"Mm. Figures. Mr. Aarons, I believe you lucked out today."
"I don't have head trauma or internal bleeding?" He suggested, and he silently added to himself: And I'm not going crazy?
Since he didn't add on the last –and probably most important- question, Ms. Adams thought he was making a joke. A small smile tugged the corner of her mouth.
"Well, yes. No trauma or bleeding, but that's not necessarily the luck I was referring to. Mr. Sullivan has been very kind to you. He said that since its Friday, you will be excused from your classes, and given the rest of your work to be completed by Tuesday."
"Oh, okay." Jess answered, not sure exactly what to say.
"Who can I call to get you home?"
"Um…probably my Mom, Mary Aarons."
"Alright then. Phone number, please."
"Eight seven four, sixty-seven twenty-nine."
"Thank you." Ms. Adams dialed the number and tapped the counter impatiently with her finger.
"Mary Aarons? Hello, this is Eugenia Adams, the Lark Creek Junior High nurse. I'm calling regarding your son, Jesse. He fainted this afternoon…yes, he's doing fine…sore, with a bit of a high temperature and a headache, completely understandable symptoms…yes, he can come home, his teacher has requested it, actually…you're on your way? Wonderful. Goodbye, Mrs. Aarons."
"Your mother is on her way." Ms. Adams reported as she hung up the phone. Jess only nodded.
Suddenly, the door to the nurse's office burst open, and an out-of-breath seventh grade girl stood in the doorway.
"Ms. Adams! You've gotta come down to the race field!"
"Amelia, for the last time, I cannot help you decide if a butterfly is injured, nor can a provide treatment." The nurse said in a bored voice, like she had repeated herself several times. Jess stifled a laugh.
"No, it's not that! Dan Taylor and Eric Green are in a fight, and when Kyle tried to intervene, they socked him in the mouth! They're still fighting down there, and Carrie's trying to fix Kyle up, but probably only because she likes him, and…"
Ms. Adams sighed and held up her hand.
"Amelia, stop, please. I'll come down and help you, but please, please stop talking so fast."
"Okay, can do! Come on!" And she raced out the door.
Jess was left a little flabbergasted by the girl's capacity for words, and Ms. Adams suddenly looked very old and very tired.
"Amelia is a sweet girl, but after she talks to me I need some ice cream and a nap." She said, more to herself than Jess. At this he did laugh, and the poor nurse barely noticed.
"Stay here until I get back." She ordered, and almost numbly followed the overly energetic girl to the race field.
Alone with himself –and truly himself, no Leslie anywhere in his mind-for the first time in what seemed to be a long while, Jess happily allowed his thoughts to wander frivolously, and yet, he couldn't help but wonder what Leslie would say about Amelia.
--
By the time Ms. Adams had returned from the catastrophe on the race field, Mary Aarons had arrived at the school, disheveled and nervous.
"Your mother is here, Jesse." Ms. Adams said. Jess was rather amazed. The woman had survived a fight between two seventh grade boys and had come out unscathed, not even one strand of hair falling from her bun.
Mary, however, was an entirely different story. She ran in, wearing a jogging suit, her hair in a messy ponytail, and no makeup. This was abnormal for Jess to see, and he had to refrain himself from blurting out the truth: She looked awful.
"Mom?"
"Honey! Are you okay?" Mary cried, running to her son and folding him in a hug.
"I'm fine Mom." He mumbled, struggling against his mother's embrace. When she at last released him, he stared at her terrified face.
"Are you okay? You look more worried than me."
"Well, I'm not entirely okay, but I feel better now that I see that you're alive and well, with no head trauma or internal bleeding." He grinned as his Mom used the same examples he had, but then was reminded why he had passed out.
Yeah, I'm just hearing voices in my head. He thought yet again, and wished Leslie had never even spoken to him in the first place.
"How did it happen?" Mary pressed.
"I'm curious myself, if you don't mind, Jesse." Ms. Adams added.
At that moment, Jess did mind. He minded very, very, VERY much, in fact. Fighting anger, (you would probably feel angry too, if you had to tell your mother and the school nurse that you fainted because your dead best friend inhabited your mind and told you that you were going to meet a girl that you've dreamed about because someone tampered with the space-time-continuum, wouldn't you? Yes, I figured.) He cleared his throat and began to speak.
"I wasn't feeling well today. Ask Mr. Sullivan. I guess maybe I'm dehydrated or something." He answered smoothly, surprised at how easy it was to lie, and even more shocking: His mother and Ms. Adams were eating it like it was candy.
It's not really a lie. He consoled himself. You're just…making stuff up. Like Leslie did with her scuba diving essay. And besides, it's either lie or get yourself locked up in the nuthouse!
"That's understandable." Ms. Adams supplied kindly.
Before Jess had the chance to confess the full truth (even if it made him seem crazy) Mary had whisked him off the cot and pushed him towards the door, thanking Ms. Adams enough for both of them, and taking him to the car so fast he could barely see where he was going.
"The sooner we get you home, the better." She said.
And while he trusted his mother's judgment, something told him that pushing a person who had just fainted as fast as they could go was probably not the safest thing in the world to do. So he was very thankful indeed when they got to the truck and even with the offering of a cheeseburger and soda at McDonald's, (a rare and treasured offer) he assured his mother that all he wanted was rest. Mary fell into a dutiful silence, and for the first time that day, Jess Aarons felt totally at peace.
About thirty minutes after they returned home, Jess fell asleep on the couch watching TV, and slept soundly until his sisters returned from school.
--
He woke to the sound of Brenda and Ellie arguing over the car.
"Mom, I've gotta meet Jake at the Doghouse Diner by six!" Brenda was whining. "Tell Ellie that she can rehearse another night."
Shooting Brenda her best "Older Sister Glare", Ellie began her rebuttal.
"How about you tell Brenda that she spends enough time sucking spit with her boyfriend as it is, and that my acting career is far more important!"
"What's sucking spit?" Joyce Ann piped up as she skipped merrily into the kitchen, brown ringlets bouncing. The youngest Aarons child had recently celebrated her fourth birthday, and had began afternoon daycare at Lark Creek Elementary so she could take the bus home with Maybelle and her best friend, Billy Jean Carter.
"It's…nothing, sweetie. Why don't you go upstairs and play Barbie dolls with May?"
"Okay!" And she skipped off to get her beloved big sister. However, when Maybelle came into the house, Super-Extreme-Barbie seemed to be the last thing on her mind.
"Humph!" The young girl declared loudly.
"What's wrong with you now, May?" Mary sighed, trying her best to look sympathetic.
"Timmy Williams." Maybelle declared, plunking down angrily between her two older sisters. Joyce Ann squeezed in to be next to May, which earned an angry glare from Brenda in response.
"What about Timmy Williams?" Ellie asked, for once genuinely curious.
"Alexandra likes him."
"So? Girls can have friends who are boys." Brenda snapped insensitively. "Look at Jess and Leslie." Jess had to fight snapping at his sister.
"Who's Leslie?" Joyce Ann asked, and it was clear that everyone in the room was tiring of the little girl's constant questions.
"Jess's dead girlfriend." Brenda stated lazily, earning a hard stare from her mother, who was about to lecture her. Jesse, however, was faster.
"Do you ever think about anyone but yourself?! You don't know about Leslie, or who she was! You don't know about anything!"
"Brenda, Jess, please." Mary tried, but her son wasn't done.
"All you care about is your stupid boyfriend! At least Ellie does something worthwhile with herself, and doesn't go around parading her bare butt like you do."
"What are you implying, smart-ass?" Brenda snarled.
"Maybelle, Joycie, go into the other room, and never repeat that word, do you understand me?" Mrs. Aarons commanded.
The girls, wide-eyed, immediately obeyed, scampering like frightened rabbits.
"As for you, Brenda Jane, apologize to your brother this instant!"
Neither Jesse nor Brenda listened however, and continued their attacks.
"I'm implying that you're a…a…" He faltered.
"A what? What am I, Jesse Oliver, huh? Are you too scared? Scared after your girlfriend died?"
"Shut up, you…you…FEMALE DOG!" He yelled, and raced out the door.
"'Female dog'?" Brenda repeated slowly, but a look of true rage crossed her face as she understood the intent of her brother's remark.
--
Jess ran like never before, anger giving him the strength. His head throbbed, his sides ached, and his breath came in shallow gasps, but he still ran, unable to stop.
How dare Brenda say those things about Leslie! She didn't know anything, did she?
No, she doesn't know anything. That's why you told her so. He thought, but yet he couldn't help but feel he was disappointing Leslie by yelling at his sister, no matter how wrong she was.
Still running, he found himself deep in the woods, and that he had, indirectly, gone around the land that was referred to as Terabithia, and was now on the hillside that they had hiked up when Leslie had told him about Janice Avery and her father. (They had gone indirectly to their kingdom, as Jess had noticed that Maybelle was thinking about following them.)
Glancing around, he noticed a bit of barbed wire fence about twenty-two feet from where he stood on the hill. The fence signified the end of Farmer Thomas's property. Farmer Thomas lived on the right side of Terabithia, which had made Jess so cautious about property lines when Leslie first discovered the land, as a quite a bit of Terabithia belonged to him. (Not all of the kingdom belonged to Thomas, most of it was on the property that stretched out behind the old Perkins Place.)
Many people in Lark Creek referred to the house the Burkes' had lived in as the ol' Perkins Place, though the real Perkins family had moved out almost six years ago, and had rented it out to different people until Leslie's parents had purchased the house. After Bill and Judy had sold it, a grumpy old man named George Aster and his thirty year old son moved in. About five months after, George moved out, complaining about the noise of the school bus in the mornings. His son stayed in the house for about another two months before moving back in with George, and the house had been put on the market for almost a year. No one bought it however, and for whatever reason, no one wanted to rent it, either. One time, old man Aster had said it was because Leslie had lived in the house and then died. His exact words were:
"Bet nobody wants ta buy this place cause of that silly kid that drowned here last year. The parents sold me the house after their kid died. Cowards, I could sense it. Who moves outta a perfectly good place jus' cause their kid dies, anyway?"
That had earned George a punch in the nose, courtesy of Jesse Oliver Aarons. It had also earned Jess three months of heavy-duty grounding. (It hadn't even been a full year since the death of his friend, and the grief was still very fresh.)
So as Jess reached the bottom of the hill and turned towards his own home, it wasn't the for-sale sign in front of the old farmhouse that surprised him, for that was always there. It was the strange mini-van and three men in front of the for-sale sign that surprised him. Cautiously moving down the hill he called out.
"Afternoon, Mr. Aster!" Jess called as he calmly crossed the road between his own home and the Burkes' old house.
The old man turned around in circles, his cane swinging around with such reckless abandon that Jesse couldn't help but wonder why he used it in the first place if he could balance while doing something like that.
When Mr. Aster located the source of the voice, he stopped spinning.
"Who are you?" He barked, pointing his cane in the general area of Jess's face, holding it as if he were holding a gun to his enemy. In spite of himself, Jess took a step backwards.
I bet he has a lot of friends. He thought to himself, shaking his head lightly as he realized that he had unintentionally phased the thought as a remark that Leslie would reply to. No reply entered in his mind, and his spirit was dampened.
"Hey, you! You kid!"
Mr. Aster's voice snapped Jess out of his trance.
"Yes sir?"
"Who are you?"
"My name's Jesse, sir. Jesse Aarons, but please, call me Jess. I live next door to your house."
Mr. Aster snorted. "It's not my house anymore, thank God."
Had the old man said anything but that, Jess would've felt relief that the man didn't remember that he had punched him in the nose almost two years ago. However, pain washed through his stomach at those words, and he was reminded for the second time that day –had he really only learned it that afternoon? - that the mind was incredibly linked to the body.
Suddenly, a sleazy looking man walked over and stood beside George. He smiled, showing that one his right front tooth were gold. He wore a black T-shirt, jeans, black loafers, a loose turquoise tie, and an eggplant colored suit jacket with the collar flipped up on one side. His hair was greasy and black, and his hair line was greatly receding. The rest of his thin hair was drawn back in a skimpy ponytail.
"Who's the kid?" The sleaze-ball asked lazily.
"This is one of the kids that live across the street. His name's Jackie."
Before Jess could tell the two men his real name, the third man appeared. He was skinny, short and blonde haired. Though George Aster wasn't the tallest man in the world, even he stood several heads above the meek looking man.
"Jackie, this is my son, Randy." George explained, gesturing to the blonde man.
"Uh…um…h-hi." Randy stuttered, his voice high pitched and girly. Jess found him very…odd.
Regardless if Randy Aster was strange or not, he at least deserved a greeting of some sort.
"Nice to meet you, Randy." Jesse managed, and felt awkward, now wishing he hadn't said anything at all.
"And this," George continued, pointing to the black haired man. "Is my real-estate agent, or rather, my lifesaver, Phil Banks."
"Nice to meet ya, Jackie." Phil stuck out a filthy hand.
At that moment, Jess decided that Phil Banks wasn't worthy of a hello, but he didn't exactly plan on immediately correcting the strange, dirty, (Dirty was reserved for Mr. Banks.) and…obviously unintelligent men.
"My name is Jesse, not Jackie." Jess argued, then regretting it. Thankfully, no one paid him any mind.
"So, George, why don't ya tell your little neighbor here the good news!" Phil smiled, and Jess had the desire to throw Phil –or even himself- over a cliff.
"Ah, yeah!" Randy echoed.
He looks even creepier when he's excited… Jess thought to himself.
"I sold the house." George said triumphantly, as if saying: 'I just won the Pulitzer Prize'.
But, considering who the house had belonged to before, Jesse found it more difficult to believe that someone new would be moving into the house, rather than George Aster winning an award of that magnitude. (And of course, as it seemed, that man winning an award representing anything good or decent seemed impossible.)
"Excuse me?"
George squinted at his face really hard, his eyes becoming nothing more than narrow slits, set deeply in his sagging, wrinkly, skin.
"I. Sold. The. House." He repeated, as if he were talking to someone that was very stupid.
When Jess still said nothing, Randy came up with another possibility.
"Maybe he's deaf."
Phil seemed to think that the idea was incredibly idiotic, and demonstrated so by slapping his client's son on the back of the head.
"He can't be deaf, moron! He was talking just fine a moment ago, and clearly too, without a hitch."
"Helen Keller could talk." Randy argued, and Jess was rather surprised that he had actually stated something smart and, on top of that, correct.
"Yeah, but not well!" Phil shot back.
George just put his head in his hands, as if he had a headache. After a few more moments of listening to his son and his real-estate agent argue over trivial things, he put his hands up in defeat.
"It doesn't matter if the kid is an air head or if he can hear or anything!" George shouted above the others.
"What matters," He said after the men stopped talking, "Is that we finally sold this damn place, even though the neighbors are crazy!"
Now, Jesse didn't like being called crazy –who would- but he forced it to roll off his back, and considered the source.
"What we should be thankful for," Phil added with a smirk, "Is that the house was sold, even though that stupid girl died here a few years ago!"
This remark caused all three to laugh, but Jess became stiff, his spine like a board. His eyes flashed, his jaw locked, and both hands came up in front of his chest in fists. After they finished their joke, Aster cast his eyes on Jess. One eyebrow came up in surprise at his facial expression, and he turned to his cohorts, looking confused.
"Hey, does he look okay to you?" George asked, jerking a thumb loosely into the direction of his young neighbor. Both Randy and Phil looked at him skeptically.
The real-estate agent was the first to speak.
"Maybe a little tenser than usual, but still weird."
That was it for Jess's self-control. A low, ominous growl came from his throat and all three shot him a look.
Determined not to punch anyone again –though who deserved to be punched more, he couldn't decide- Jesse spun around on his heals and shot off like a rocket towards his own home. His sneakers skidded on the last bit of the gravelly dirt driveway, not even noticing that he had reached the small stretch of pavement that separated his house from Leslie's old one. All he noticed was that he could run faster on a smoother surface.
Jess was fuming. Who did they think they were, anyway? To criticize him while he was present, and even worse, speak of Leslie's death so lightly. He didn't expect them to have the same respect for her that he and his family did, of course, but he did expect them to have some form of decency to speak politely about the death of a young girl.
Apparently I expected too much. He thought to himself.
He was so busy wishing that he had socked all three of them while he had the chance, he didn't notice that his father's truck was only a foot from him, and was slowing down in a desperate attempt not to run him over. Jess just kept on running, until he was at last safe on his own driveway, sprinting towards home.
Jack Aarons, the man inside the truck, cursed under his breath as he tried not to hit his only son. More frightened than angry, he hoped that the boy's strange behavior had nothing to do with him passing out at school. (Mary had phoned he husband at work after Jess had fallen asleep, explaining what had happened.)
When Jess disappeared from his sight, Jack sped up the truck, wanting to make sure everything was alright.
When he parked the vehicle in its spot a few moments later, Mr. Aarons was somewhat relieved to see his son sitting quietly on the porch, knees pulled into his chest, with his arms spread across them, chin resting on his elbows.
Slowly climbing from the cab, Jack closed he door as softly as he could and approached Jess, who seemed to be staring into space.
"Jess?" He asked gently, laying a hand on his son's shoulder. He was shaking mildly, and his breathing was heavy.
"Dad…" Jess said, voice trembling, and speaking so low that his father had to strain to hear him.
"Yes?" Jack answered, crouching down beside the troubled boy and silently praying he wasn't having a relapse of some kind.
Now, Jess meant to tell all about the three rude men across the road, but instead he said something else.
"Somebody's moving into Leslie's house."
A/N: There you go! Sorry it took so long to update, I had a very busy week, and had absolutely no time to write. Please tell me if you think I put any unnecessary details in this chapter. I noticed I haven't been describing the settings very well, and while I like to give my readers some room to imagine settings and characters, I was starting to think I was being a little bit too vague. As far as the added characters: I wanted to give you a better description of Phillip Banks. Ms. Adams is, in appearance, based off of a real person. Amelia's personality is based off of an old friend of mine, as is George Aster. Randy is entirely real, from his name to his appearance to his personality. (He's actually a blending of two people) I was missing designing characters, and decided to add in these people, as to give you a better understanding. :) I know I haven't incorporated any REAL language in any of my stories before, but after glancing over the novel in the bookstore the other day; I decided it would be alright to use the language they use. On another note, I have a new longest chapter, and I'm very happy about it. :) Sorry for my rambling, please review!
WORD COUNT: 4,590!