The Beast, the Anti-Conformist Table, and a Wizard of Oz Reference
.:*:. .:*:. .:*:.
When Calla woke up the following morning, she almost believed that she was at home. In her old room. But, of course, she wasn't. As soon as she stepped outside her bedroom door, it reaffirmed that. She sighed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and turned back into her room to get clothes for her first day at County High.
Stepping out of the bathroom after showering and getting dressed, Calla towel-dried her hair as she headed downstairs. She found her dad in the kitchen making breakfast. "So. . .what are you going to do today?" she asked, sitting at the table.
"I don't know. Wander around town. Get acquainted with the locals. Maybe find a place to open up a studio," he answered.
"Ah. . .something constructive. And I have to go to school. You know that I've never had to be the new person in anything? I don't want to go."
"Do you want me to drop you off and walk you to the front door?"
"Please, no. I. . .No. Not gonna happen. It's enough that you dragged me on this quest."
"You can't always throw that back at me, you know. You'll like it here. Give it time. And the benefit of a doubt. For me. And Mom."
Calla turned away from him, nodding, her eyes welling up with tears. She brushed them away before they fell. "Can I take that beast?"
"I suppose. Until we find you something."
"Please let me pick it out this time. No more of those gas-guzzlers." She headed back to her room and grabbed her backpack which was filled with the books that she would need for the day ahead. After pulling on her tennis shoes, she grabbed the keys and headed out the door. "See you around 3:30."
Calla parked beside a familiar car and waited a moment before getting out so that Bright's passenger could get out first. He smiled at her and waved when he noticed who she was. Pulling the strap of her backpack over her shoulder, she locked the doors, returning Bright's smile. "Hey, Cale," he said.
"Hi," she replied, glancing at Amy.
"Oh, uh, this is my sister, Amy. Amy, this is Cale Porter. She's new."
Amy reached for Calla's hand. "Nice to meet you," she greeted, before heading off to catch up with her friends.
Bright read the front of her shirt as she headed over to where he was standing. "The Atari's?"
"The Ataris. More of an 'iss' at the end. It's a band," she corrected.
"Are they big where you come from?"
They had started walking towards the building. "No. On my planet, they're known as 'underground punk.'"
Bright laughed. "I didn't mean for it to sound that way."
"I know. I was just messing with you."
"So. . .What's your first class?"
"Art. I'm excited."
"You're an artist?"
After a long silence, "Maybe someday. . ." She grinned.
Bright smiled with her. "What else do you have today?"
Calla handed him her schedule. "For the next two weeks, this thing will be permanently fixed to my hand."
"Nope. The only thing we've got is last block tomorrow."
"Oh. But, hey. It's an open block."
By this time, they had entered the school. "This is your locker." Calla gave him a curious look. "It's right there on your schedule," he answered her unasked question, smiling. "Maybe I'll see you after school."
Calla nodded as she started to put the books she wouldn't need just yet into her locker. Closing the metal door, she looked around, taking in her surroundings. At least I've made one friend. . .I think, she thought, shouldering her bag again before heading for the art room.
.:*:. .:*:. .:*:. .:*:. .:*:. .:*:.
After her second class of the day, it was time for lunch. Calla wasn't as hungry as she thought she would be - especially after skipping breakfast earlier. She grabbed a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich and a carton of milk from the line and turned to face the sea of tables full of people she didn't know. Everyone looked the same to her. Except one person. He was alone, tucked back in a corner table, reading a book. She headed towards where he was seated. "Is this, possibly, the anti-conformist table?" she asked, a half smile on her face when she realized that she had startled him.
He looked around, his headphones now hanging around his neck. "I suppose it is."
"Can I sit?"
"Yeah, sure. I'm Ephram Brown."
"Calla Porter. Or, Cale." She reached for his hand, and shook it.
Ephram nodded, returning to his book, and pulling his headphones back on.
Calla watched him for a moment before she began to eat. When she was finished, she opened a zippered pocket on the front of her bag, producing from it a CD. She slid the case across the table to Ephram. He removed his headphones again and turned the case to read the writing on the disc. "I think you'll like it," she said, standing. "Thanks for the seat and for not asking questions."
Ephram nodded as she walked away. Okay, he thought. It's not every day you get a CD from someone you just met. . .So. . .I wonder if this 'Dishwalla' is any good. . . He put the CD in his discman and pressed play.
.:*:. .:*:. .:*:. .:*:. .:*:. .:*:.
Calla entered the library shortly after the bell that started class sounded. Students had already staked their claim on most of the tables. However, there was an empty one near the windows. She headed for it, hoping that no one would reach it before she did. She took out her CD player and a sketchpad, then looked out the window.
"Is this the anti-conformist table?" a voice asked, pulling Calla from the world within her sketchpad.
"Ephram. Sure. Now that you're here." She smiled as she moved her bag to the floor.
Ephram took the chair opposite Calla at the table. "I listened to that CD." He pushed it across the table towards her. "You were right. I liked it."
Calla picked it up. "Then keep it. I have it stored on my hard-drive. I can make another copy." She handed the CD back to him.
"Thanks." He took it back and placed it inside his backpack. Opening the book he had been reading during lunch, he pressed the play button on his discman, heading back to the fictitious world within well-worn pages.
Calla opened her sketchbook to a new page. She searched beyond the window for something to draw, then returned her gaze to Ephram. The first line she made was the curve of the side of his face. Then the slope of his nose. And his eyes, focused on words she couldn't see.
Once she was done with the shadowing and the tinier details, she held the sketchbook an arms-length away. She liked it. Gently closing the pages, she put it away. Then, she leaned back in her chair to watch Ephram. Glancing at the clock, she began timing how long it would take for him to get that feeling when he knew someone was watching him. A while later, after he had turned four pages, he looked up at her.
"Eleven minutes."
"Huh?" Ephram questioned, taking the headphones off.
"Eleven minutes," she repeated.
"Eleven minutes. . ."
"Yeah. Before you realized you were being watched."
"I haven't known you long enough to judge you, but I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that you're odd."
"Thank you." She smiled as she sat up and leaned forward. "So, are we required to stay here during open blocks, or can we leave?"
"We can leave."
"Oh. Are you on an open block, or did you skip class to read in the library?"
"Open block."
"Oh. . .Think you would, possibly, be willing to show me the wonder that is Everwood?"
Ephram pursed his lips, thinking. He glanced at the clock. There was still a good hour of school left. "I, um, yeah. I suppose I could."
"Really? Thanks." She stood up and grabbed her bag from the floor.
Ephram stood as well, putting his book and discman away. "Payment for the CD."
"Ah. An exchange of my goods for your services." At the look on Ephram's face, she rethought what she had just said. "That didn't come out right, did it?"
"Nope." He grinned. He liked Cale. She had an amusing personality. Definitely a good change from the typical Everwoodian. He wondered about her story and why she was here. But he remembered his first days in Everwood a year ago. The reason that brought him here. Also, she was glad that he wasn't asking questions. If she wanted to tell him, she would.
"So. I can tell you're not from here. Well, not from here, from here. You know?"
"Yeah. We moved here a little over a year ago."
"Oh."
"From New York."
"Hmm. . .Never been, but always wanted to go. Too bad my Dad's little 'expedition of destiny' didn't lead us East."
"Yeah. I miss New York. . .But, Everwood. . .I don't know. I used to hate it, but I still don't like it. I don't not like it though, either."
"Yeah. I get what you're saying. There's no place like home." She laughed quietly to herself. "Now I sound like Dorothy."
Ephram pondered that a moment. "If you're Dorothy, would that make me Toto?"
"Do you enjoy being carried in a picnic basket and being scratched behind the ears?" She followed him down the front stairs and to a bike rack.
"Um. . . Only on good days. . .So, no, I guess not." He pulled his bike from the rack and walked over to her.
Calla produced her keys. "Is this more of a walking situation?"
"Well. . .I guess it depends on what you want to see."
"Everything."
"Okay. . .It's up to you."
"Um. . .Let's see. . .How long do you expect this to take?"
"I'm not sure. . .More than an hour, I'd say."
"Why don't we put your bike on the back of the beast, and we can drop it off at your house where you can tell your parents where you are so they don't worry and get really upset at me, someone you just met, and then we can see Everwood in its glory?" Calla questioned.
"I think you're set on rapid-fire. But, yeah. We can do that. But I don't think my dad would worry too much if I were late."
Ephram helped Calla load the bike into the back of the SUV, then they both climbed in. Ephram gave her the directions to his house, smiling at the concentration on her face. "You can turn the radio on if you'd like," she said as she pulled to a stop at the light. "Or, I think there's a CD in there."
Ephram pressed the play button, and the familiar guitar-and-drum-driven sound of punk filtered from the speakers. "You may be odd, but at least you have a good taste in music."
"Thank you, my new, blue-haired friend."
"It was an impulse thing," he said, ruffling his hair, then smoothing it back down.
"My mom freaked when I dyed mine purple a few months ago. . ."
"Why'd you go back?"
"She never liked it, but she put up with it. . ." Calla trailed off, remembering the look her mother gave her every morning. She would shake her head, but she would smile. Calla changed it back after the accident. She did it for her mom. It kind of seemed silly to her now. "Do you. . .nevermind." She was going to ask Ephram if he thought it was weird to change something for someone to make them happy, even if they were dead. But she wasn't prepared to open that can of worms.
"This is it." Ephram pointed to the house. Calla stopped next to the curb and got out to help Ephram with the bike. She opened the back and took it out, wheeling it up to the side of the house. "I'm gonna leave a note for my sister, then I'll be right back, okay?"
"Yep," Calla nodded, returning to the Durango. Ephram returned a couple of minutes later. "So, where'm I headed? I'm completely lost."
Ephram laughed in reply.
.:*:. .:*:. .:*:.
When Calla woke up the following morning, she almost believed that she was at home. In her old room. But, of course, she wasn't. As soon as she stepped outside her bedroom door, it reaffirmed that. She sighed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and turned back into her room to get clothes for her first day at County High.
Stepping out of the bathroom after showering and getting dressed, Calla towel-dried her hair as she headed downstairs. She found her dad in the kitchen making breakfast. "So. . .what are you going to do today?" she asked, sitting at the table.
"I don't know. Wander around town. Get acquainted with the locals. Maybe find a place to open up a studio," he answered.
"Ah. . .something constructive. And I have to go to school. You know that I've never had to be the new person in anything? I don't want to go."
"Do you want me to drop you off and walk you to the front door?"
"Please, no. I. . .No. Not gonna happen. It's enough that you dragged me on this quest."
"You can't always throw that back at me, you know. You'll like it here. Give it time. And the benefit of a doubt. For me. And Mom."
Calla turned away from him, nodding, her eyes welling up with tears. She brushed them away before they fell. "Can I take that beast?"
"I suppose. Until we find you something."
"Please let me pick it out this time. No more of those gas-guzzlers." She headed back to her room and grabbed her backpack which was filled with the books that she would need for the day ahead. After pulling on her tennis shoes, she grabbed the keys and headed out the door. "See you around 3:30."
Calla parked beside a familiar car and waited a moment before getting out so that Bright's passenger could get out first. He smiled at her and waved when he noticed who she was. Pulling the strap of her backpack over her shoulder, she locked the doors, returning Bright's smile. "Hey, Cale," he said.
"Hi," she replied, glancing at Amy.
"Oh, uh, this is my sister, Amy. Amy, this is Cale Porter. She's new."
Amy reached for Calla's hand. "Nice to meet you," she greeted, before heading off to catch up with her friends.
Bright read the front of her shirt as she headed over to where he was standing. "The Atari's?"
"The Ataris. More of an 'iss' at the end. It's a band," she corrected.
"Are they big where you come from?"
They had started walking towards the building. "No. On my planet, they're known as 'underground punk.'"
Bright laughed. "I didn't mean for it to sound that way."
"I know. I was just messing with you."
"So. . .What's your first class?"
"Art. I'm excited."
"You're an artist?"
After a long silence, "Maybe someday. . ." She grinned.
Bright smiled with her. "What else do you have today?"
Calla handed him her schedule. "For the next two weeks, this thing will be permanently fixed to my hand."
"Nope. The only thing we've got is last block tomorrow."
"Oh. But, hey. It's an open block."
By this time, they had entered the school. "This is your locker." Calla gave him a curious look. "It's right there on your schedule," he answered her unasked question, smiling. "Maybe I'll see you after school."
Calla nodded as she started to put the books she wouldn't need just yet into her locker. Closing the metal door, she looked around, taking in her surroundings. At least I've made one friend. . .I think, she thought, shouldering her bag again before heading for the art room.
.:*:. .:*:. .:*:. .:*:. .:*:. .:*:.
After her second class of the day, it was time for lunch. Calla wasn't as hungry as she thought she would be - especially after skipping breakfast earlier. She grabbed a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich and a carton of milk from the line and turned to face the sea of tables full of people she didn't know. Everyone looked the same to her. Except one person. He was alone, tucked back in a corner table, reading a book. She headed towards where he was seated. "Is this, possibly, the anti-conformist table?" she asked, a half smile on her face when she realized that she had startled him.
He looked around, his headphones now hanging around his neck. "I suppose it is."
"Can I sit?"
"Yeah, sure. I'm Ephram Brown."
"Calla Porter. Or, Cale." She reached for his hand, and shook it.
Ephram nodded, returning to his book, and pulling his headphones back on.
Calla watched him for a moment before she began to eat. When she was finished, she opened a zippered pocket on the front of her bag, producing from it a CD. She slid the case across the table to Ephram. He removed his headphones again and turned the case to read the writing on the disc. "I think you'll like it," she said, standing. "Thanks for the seat and for not asking questions."
Ephram nodded as she walked away. Okay, he thought. It's not every day you get a CD from someone you just met. . .So. . .I wonder if this 'Dishwalla' is any good. . . He put the CD in his discman and pressed play.
.:*:. .:*:. .:*:. .:*:. .:*:. .:*:.
Calla entered the library shortly after the bell that started class sounded. Students had already staked their claim on most of the tables. However, there was an empty one near the windows. She headed for it, hoping that no one would reach it before she did. She took out her CD player and a sketchpad, then looked out the window.
"Is this the anti-conformist table?" a voice asked, pulling Calla from the world within her sketchpad.
"Ephram. Sure. Now that you're here." She smiled as she moved her bag to the floor.
Ephram took the chair opposite Calla at the table. "I listened to that CD." He pushed it across the table towards her. "You were right. I liked it."
Calla picked it up. "Then keep it. I have it stored on my hard-drive. I can make another copy." She handed the CD back to him.
"Thanks." He took it back and placed it inside his backpack. Opening the book he had been reading during lunch, he pressed the play button on his discman, heading back to the fictitious world within well-worn pages.
Calla opened her sketchbook to a new page. She searched beyond the window for something to draw, then returned her gaze to Ephram. The first line she made was the curve of the side of his face. Then the slope of his nose. And his eyes, focused on words she couldn't see.
Once she was done with the shadowing and the tinier details, she held the sketchbook an arms-length away. She liked it. Gently closing the pages, she put it away. Then, she leaned back in her chair to watch Ephram. Glancing at the clock, she began timing how long it would take for him to get that feeling when he knew someone was watching him. A while later, after he had turned four pages, he looked up at her.
"Eleven minutes."
"Huh?" Ephram questioned, taking the headphones off.
"Eleven minutes," she repeated.
"Eleven minutes. . ."
"Yeah. Before you realized you were being watched."
"I haven't known you long enough to judge you, but I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that you're odd."
"Thank you." She smiled as she sat up and leaned forward. "So, are we required to stay here during open blocks, or can we leave?"
"We can leave."
"Oh. Are you on an open block, or did you skip class to read in the library?"
"Open block."
"Oh. . .Think you would, possibly, be willing to show me the wonder that is Everwood?"
Ephram pursed his lips, thinking. He glanced at the clock. There was still a good hour of school left. "I, um, yeah. I suppose I could."
"Really? Thanks." She stood up and grabbed her bag from the floor.
Ephram stood as well, putting his book and discman away. "Payment for the CD."
"Ah. An exchange of my goods for your services." At the look on Ephram's face, she rethought what she had just said. "That didn't come out right, did it?"
"Nope." He grinned. He liked Cale. She had an amusing personality. Definitely a good change from the typical Everwoodian. He wondered about her story and why she was here. But he remembered his first days in Everwood a year ago. The reason that brought him here. Also, she was glad that he wasn't asking questions. If she wanted to tell him, she would.
"So. I can tell you're not from here. Well, not from here, from here. You know?"
"Yeah. We moved here a little over a year ago."
"Oh."
"From New York."
"Hmm. . .Never been, but always wanted to go. Too bad my Dad's little 'expedition of destiny' didn't lead us East."
"Yeah. I miss New York. . .But, Everwood. . .I don't know. I used to hate it, but I still don't like it. I don't not like it though, either."
"Yeah. I get what you're saying. There's no place like home." She laughed quietly to herself. "Now I sound like Dorothy."
Ephram pondered that a moment. "If you're Dorothy, would that make me Toto?"
"Do you enjoy being carried in a picnic basket and being scratched behind the ears?" She followed him down the front stairs and to a bike rack.
"Um. . . Only on good days. . .So, no, I guess not." He pulled his bike from the rack and walked over to her.
Calla produced her keys. "Is this more of a walking situation?"
"Well. . .I guess it depends on what you want to see."
"Everything."
"Okay. . .It's up to you."
"Um. . .Let's see. . .How long do you expect this to take?"
"I'm not sure. . .More than an hour, I'd say."
"Why don't we put your bike on the back of the beast, and we can drop it off at your house where you can tell your parents where you are so they don't worry and get really upset at me, someone you just met, and then we can see Everwood in its glory?" Calla questioned.
"I think you're set on rapid-fire. But, yeah. We can do that. But I don't think my dad would worry too much if I were late."
Ephram helped Calla load the bike into the back of the SUV, then they both climbed in. Ephram gave her the directions to his house, smiling at the concentration on her face. "You can turn the radio on if you'd like," she said as she pulled to a stop at the light. "Or, I think there's a CD in there."
Ephram pressed the play button, and the familiar guitar-and-drum-driven sound of punk filtered from the speakers. "You may be odd, but at least you have a good taste in music."
"Thank you, my new, blue-haired friend."
"It was an impulse thing," he said, ruffling his hair, then smoothing it back down.
"My mom freaked when I dyed mine purple a few months ago. . ."
"Why'd you go back?"
"She never liked it, but she put up with it. . ." Calla trailed off, remembering the look her mother gave her every morning. She would shake her head, but she would smile. Calla changed it back after the accident. She did it for her mom. It kind of seemed silly to her now. "Do you. . .nevermind." She was going to ask Ephram if he thought it was weird to change something for someone to make them happy, even if they were dead. But she wasn't prepared to open that can of worms.
"This is it." Ephram pointed to the house. Calla stopped next to the curb and got out to help Ephram with the bike. She opened the back and took it out, wheeling it up to the side of the house. "I'm gonna leave a note for my sister, then I'll be right back, okay?"
"Yep," Calla nodded, returning to the Durango. Ephram returned a couple of minutes later. "So, where'm I headed? I'm completely lost."
Ephram laughed in reply.
