Chapter 5 - Michelle's Story
September 30th, 2020 - Tulsa, Oklahoma
"Did you *see* Brittany and Sabrina today?" I asked Taylor, wincing as we walked home from school.
"Oh yeah..." he said, smiling in a slightly sleazy way.
"Taylor!" I snapped, glaring at him. "Don't do this to me! I would have to shoot myself if you turned into someone like Aaron Denver. I can't stand people like that... Actually, if you went like that I'd shoot *you*, not me."
"Relax Shelle..." he said, laughing. "You know I'm not like that. I was just messing with your mind."
"Well stop it!" I replied. "You scare me when you act like that... Why *do* guys end up like that? Have you noticed everyone's turning like that?"
Taylor shrugged. "Adolescence? Their emerging hormones?" I groaned. "We're eleven Taylor. We don't *have* emerging hormones."
"Some people do."
"Well, you'd better not. Or else I won't like you," I threatened him. "I won't have them. I'll stay the way I am."
"I'm sure you will," Taylor replied, a little sarcastically.
"Anyway, Brittany shouldn't have worn her tiara. It made her look stupid. I wouldn't have worn it if I had won. I mean, I wouldn't even *enter* the competition, let alone advertise that I'd won it," I said.
"Okay..." Taylor shrugged.
"I wouldn't!" I protested.
"Okay..." Taylor agreed, getting a little pissed off.
"I wouldn't!" I persisted.
Taylor sighed. He looked up at the sky and turned back to me.
"Well?" I asked.
"Michelle..." he said, wincing a little. "You always brag when you win things. Like whenever your team wins in sport you take all the credit, you can't stand it when I do better than you in a test... the only thing that would stop you from doing what Brittany Simpson did is the weird little notion you have in your head that it's wrong to be beautiful."
"I don't have any weird little thingies in my head," I replied.
"Yes you do," Taylor insisted. "It's like you think its wrong to be a girl. You're always trying to prove that you don't conform to the female stereotype. There's nothing wrong with being pretty..."
"Well you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" I said bitterly. I couldn't believe he'd turned this into an attack on me. I wasn't conceited. And I didn't have any weird... whatever-he'd-called-thems.
"Mom's pretty, right?" Taylor said more gently. "That doesn't mean she's not smart. You know she's very smart..."
"You'd know better than I do. You're her favourite," I replied.
"Shelle..." Taylor moaned.
Taylor and I had been so busy arguing that we hadn't realised that we'd turned into Burnt Hill Road again. Great. That was all we needed. The freaks would come and talk to us again. "Just leave me alone Taylor," I said. "I know how you really feel now."
We continued walking up the road, approaching the creepy house. "I was just trying to be... honest," he said helplessly.
"Yeah... well go be honest with someone else," I replied.
"Michelle! Taylor!" a voice called.
We both turned around. That old woman, Felicia, was sitting up on her top-floor balcony working on a tapestry. "Hi!" I said cheerfully. I knew Taylor wouldn't want us to talk to her so I was determined to be as friendly as possible.
"Hi..." Taylor said less enthusiastically.
"How are the two of you? Aren't you playing basketball this afternoon?" she asked cheerfully.
"No," I replied. "We're just on our way home from school."
"Will your parents be there to greet you with an afternoon tea?" Felicia asked kindly.
"No," I said, trying to look sad. "We have to make it ourselves."
Taylor gave me a look. "We don't eat afternoon tea," he said. "Our parents don't want us to join the legions of people that make Americans the fattest people in the world."
"Well there's no harm in having a treat every now and again," Felicia said warmly. "If you come inside I'll get you some lemonade and cookies and we can eat them on the balcony."
"Oh thanks," I said. "That would be cool."
"Well, I'll just go downstairs to let you in," she said. Felicia disappeared into the house and I began to walk down the path, towards the door.
Taylor glared at me and grabbed my arm. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked, following me anyhow. "Don't you remember what happened last time we went in there?"
"Look Taylor," I replied. "She invited us up to eat with her. She's being extremely nice. We were obviously wrong. Unless of course... you have issues." I smiled sweetly at him.
Taylor didn't have a chance to reply because as soon as I'd said this Felicia opened the door. "Come on in," she said, holding the door open. "That's a lovely skirt you're wearing Michelle."
Taylor snickered. "Thank you," I said politely as we walked in. "I don't like wearing dresses though. I think it's a very sissy. I only wear them because of our school's sexist dress code."
"Well it's very pretty," Felicia said, walking into the kitchen. "Whoever picked it out must have very good taste."
"Our mother did," Taylor said. "She likes skirts."
Felicia handed me a jug of lemonade and gave me a plate of sandwiches. "Would you take these?" She picked up a tray of cookies and smiled to herself. "I suppose she lives in them, am I right?" she asked Taylor.
"Yep," he said.
Felicia led us up the stairs and up onto the balcony. "So, what *do* you like to wear Michelle?" she asked, placing the cookies on the table. We also put our food on the table.
"Pants..." I replied.
"And Fly Girls T-shirts," Taylor smirked, as we sat down.
I glared at him. "We at least I'm not stuck in the twentieth century!" I snapped. "Taylor likes the Beatles."
"Really?" Felicia said. "So do I. When I was a young girl I went to one of their concerts. I was just about your age I think."
"Wow, that must have been great," Taylor said enthusiastically.
"Oh it was. I screamed my head off. I had a bit of a crush on Paul McCartney," Felicia reminisced.
"Really???" Taylor said, nearly jumping off his chair in excitement. "He's my hero!"
"You do music?" Felicia asked.
Taylor nodded. "I play the piano."
"Oh, how delightful!" Felicia replied. "Do you sing?"
Taylor shrugged. "A little. But I prefer playing..."
I rolled my eyes. Yet another person who preferred my brother to me. "I play the piano too, but I don't play the Beatles. I mean please! This is 2020, not 1920."
"What grades are you up to?" Felicia asked.
"Fifth," I said.
"Eighth," Taylor cut in. Why did he have to beat me at *everything*?
There was a silence. "Where's your husband?" I asked.
"Skylar?" Felicia asked. "He's building in the garage..."
"What's he building?" I asked.
"A shrine," she replied. "We want to have our own little place of worship in the house."
Taylor raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Our parents had brought us up to beware of hypocrisy in religion.
"Do you have any children?" I asked.
"We had lots of children," Felicia replied. "Nine in fact. But we ended up losing seven of them. Now we only have two boys, the eldest and the youngest."
"Oh that's so sad," Taylor said. "How did you lose them?"
Felicia's face clouded over. "I... It was awful. I don't want to talk about it."
"How old are the ones you still have?" I asked.
"We have Neuton, who's 40 in a couple of months, and Stanley, who's 20," she said.
"Wow, twenty years apart..." I commented.
"But enough about us," Felicia said. "I'm just dying with curiosity about your family. Do you have any brothers or sisters?"
I smiled. We were obviously completely wrong about Felicia and Skylar. Or Felicia, at least. I shook my head. "No, we're the only children. Our parents don't want to overpopulate the planet."
"That's the only reason?" Felicia asked. What was she talking about? "So what about your parents?"
"Our parents are called Tweedle-Tay and Michaela," Taylor said. "They're both 37. Mom's a lawyer and Dad's an architect."
"So they make a lot of money?" Felicia asked.
Taylor shrugged. "I guess so."
"They must be goodlooking to produce the two of you," she commented. Neither Taylor nor I said anything. "So, what are they like?"
"Parents..." I suggested. "Mom's stylish, I suppose, but she can be a bit of a... a bit sarcastic," I corrected myself.
"But you have to admit she's witty," Taylor argued. "She's pretty nice normally. She just gets a bit stressed."
"She says I make her hair go grey," I put in. "But it hasn't, it's just blonde..."
"She's a little neurotic..." Taylor mused.
"A bit of a trouble-maker?" Felicia asked.
We shook our heads. "I wouldn't say that," I said.
"Dad's smart, but not as smart as Mom," Taylor said. "He's more fun with us."
"More down to earth," I agreed. "He doesn't try to confuse us."
"Mom doesn't try to confuse us!" Taylor protested.
"Speak for yourself, Mr IQ of 180!" I replied. "Mom doesn't confuse Taylor because he's probably smarter than she is." I paused. "Dad's cool. He taught me how to play soccer, but it's not exactly my best sport. He's funnier than Mom too..."
"So you're parents are generally happy people?" Felicia asked.
Taylor shrugged. "I guess so."
"They don't experience long periods of depression?" she continued.
"Ah... no..." I replied, shaking my head.
Taylor looked at his watch. "Oh god Shelle!" he said.
"Watch your language!" Felicia snapped. She smiled. "I'm sorry, I just can't stand people taking the Lord's name in vain."
Taylor stood up. "It's 4:30pm. We have to go now. Our parents will be home soon."
"Thanks for having us for tea," I added.
"Yeah thanks," Taylor put in.
"Thank *you* for coming," Felicia said. She walked us down the stair and to the door. "I hope I'll see you again soon," she said.
"Yeah, us too," I replied.
When we were back on the street Taylor turned to me. "Come on Shelle!" he begged me. "You can't tell me you don't think they're weird!"
I looked him straight in the eye. "I don't," I lied.
September 30th, 2020 - Tulsa, Oklahoma
"Did you *see* Brittany and Sabrina today?" I asked Taylor, wincing as we walked home from school.
"Oh yeah..." he said, smiling in a slightly sleazy way.
"Taylor!" I snapped, glaring at him. "Don't do this to me! I would have to shoot myself if you turned into someone like Aaron Denver. I can't stand people like that... Actually, if you went like that I'd shoot *you*, not me."
"Relax Shelle..." he said, laughing. "You know I'm not like that. I was just messing with your mind."
"Well stop it!" I replied. "You scare me when you act like that... Why *do* guys end up like that? Have you noticed everyone's turning like that?"
Taylor shrugged. "Adolescence? Their emerging hormones?" I groaned. "We're eleven Taylor. We don't *have* emerging hormones."
"Some people do."
"Well, you'd better not. Or else I won't like you," I threatened him. "I won't have them. I'll stay the way I am."
"I'm sure you will," Taylor replied, a little sarcastically.
"Anyway, Brittany shouldn't have worn her tiara. It made her look stupid. I wouldn't have worn it if I had won. I mean, I wouldn't even *enter* the competition, let alone advertise that I'd won it," I said.
"Okay..." Taylor shrugged.
"I wouldn't!" I protested.
"Okay..." Taylor agreed, getting a little pissed off.
"I wouldn't!" I persisted.
Taylor sighed. He looked up at the sky and turned back to me.
"Well?" I asked.
"Michelle..." he said, wincing a little. "You always brag when you win things. Like whenever your team wins in sport you take all the credit, you can't stand it when I do better than you in a test... the only thing that would stop you from doing what Brittany Simpson did is the weird little notion you have in your head that it's wrong to be beautiful."
"I don't have any weird little thingies in my head," I replied.
"Yes you do," Taylor insisted. "It's like you think its wrong to be a girl. You're always trying to prove that you don't conform to the female stereotype. There's nothing wrong with being pretty..."
"Well you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" I said bitterly. I couldn't believe he'd turned this into an attack on me. I wasn't conceited. And I didn't have any weird... whatever-he'd-called-thems.
"Mom's pretty, right?" Taylor said more gently. "That doesn't mean she's not smart. You know she's very smart..."
"You'd know better than I do. You're her favourite," I replied.
"Shelle..." Taylor moaned.
Taylor and I had been so busy arguing that we hadn't realised that we'd turned into Burnt Hill Road again. Great. That was all we needed. The freaks would come and talk to us again. "Just leave me alone Taylor," I said. "I know how you really feel now."
We continued walking up the road, approaching the creepy house. "I was just trying to be... honest," he said helplessly.
"Yeah... well go be honest with someone else," I replied.
"Michelle! Taylor!" a voice called.
We both turned around. That old woman, Felicia, was sitting up on her top-floor balcony working on a tapestry. "Hi!" I said cheerfully. I knew Taylor wouldn't want us to talk to her so I was determined to be as friendly as possible.
"Hi..." Taylor said less enthusiastically.
"How are the two of you? Aren't you playing basketball this afternoon?" she asked cheerfully.
"No," I replied. "We're just on our way home from school."
"Will your parents be there to greet you with an afternoon tea?" Felicia asked kindly.
"No," I said, trying to look sad. "We have to make it ourselves."
Taylor gave me a look. "We don't eat afternoon tea," he said. "Our parents don't want us to join the legions of people that make Americans the fattest people in the world."
"Well there's no harm in having a treat every now and again," Felicia said warmly. "If you come inside I'll get you some lemonade and cookies and we can eat them on the balcony."
"Oh thanks," I said. "That would be cool."
"Well, I'll just go downstairs to let you in," she said. Felicia disappeared into the house and I began to walk down the path, towards the door.
Taylor glared at me and grabbed my arm. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked, following me anyhow. "Don't you remember what happened last time we went in there?"
"Look Taylor," I replied. "She invited us up to eat with her. She's being extremely nice. We were obviously wrong. Unless of course... you have issues." I smiled sweetly at him.
Taylor didn't have a chance to reply because as soon as I'd said this Felicia opened the door. "Come on in," she said, holding the door open. "That's a lovely skirt you're wearing Michelle."
Taylor snickered. "Thank you," I said politely as we walked in. "I don't like wearing dresses though. I think it's a very sissy. I only wear them because of our school's sexist dress code."
"Well it's very pretty," Felicia said, walking into the kitchen. "Whoever picked it out must have very good taste."
"Our mother did," Taylor said. "She likes skirts."
Felicia handed me a jug of lemonade and gave me a plate of sandwiches. "Would you take these?" She picked up a tray of cookies and smiled to herself. "I suppose she lives in them, am I right?" she asked Taylor.
"Yep," he said.
Felicia led us up the stairs and up onto the balcony. "So, what *do* you like to wear Michelle?" she asked, placing the cookies on the table. We also put our food on the table.
"Pants..." I replied.
"And Fly Girls T-shirts," Taylor smirked, as we sat down.
I glared at him. "We at least I'm not stuck in the twentieth century!" I snapped. "Taylor likes the Beatles."
"Really?" Felicia said. "So do I. When I was a young girl I went to one of their concerts. I was just about your age I think."
"Wow, that must have been great," Taylor said enthusiastically.
"Oh it was. I screamed my head off. I had a bit of a crush on Paul McCartney," Felicia reminisced.
"Really???" Taylor said, nearly jumping off his chair in excitement. "He's my hero!"
"You do music?" Felicia asked.
Taylor nodded. "I play the piano."
"Oh, how delightful!" Felicia replied. "Do you sing?"
Taylor shrugged. "A little. But I prefer playing..."
I rolled my eyes. Yet another person who preferred my brother to me. "I play the piano too, but I don't play the Beatles. I mean please! This is 2020, not 1920."
"What grades are you up to?" Felicia asked.
"Fifth," I said.
"Eighth," Taylor cut in. Why did he have to beat me at *everything*?
There was a silence. "Where's your husband?" I asked.
"Skylar?" Felicia asked. "He's building in the garage..."
"What's he building?" I asked.
"A shrine," she replied. "We want to have our own little place of worship in the house."
Taylor raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Our parents had brought us up to beware of hypocrisy in religion.
"Do you have any children?" I asked.
"We had lots of children," Felicia replied. "Nine in fact. But we ended up losing seven of them. Now we only have two boys, the eldest and the youngest."
"Oh that's so sad," Taylor said. "How did you lose them?"
Felicia's face clouded over. "I... It was awful. I don't want to talk about it."
"How old are the ones you still have?" I asked.
"We have Neuton, who's 40 in a couple of months, and Stanley, who's 20," she said.
"Wow, twenty years apart..." I commented.
"But enough about us," Felicia said. "I'm just dying with curiosity about your family. Do you have any brothers or sisters?"
I smiled. We were obviously completely wrong about Felicia and Skylar. Or Felicia, at least. I shook my head. "No, we're the only children. Our parents don't want to overpopulate the planet."
"That's the only reason?" Felicia asked. What was she talking about? "So what about your parents?"
"Our parents are called Tweedle-Tay and Michaela," Taylor said. "They're both 37. Mom's a lawyer and Dad's an architect."
"So they make a lot of money?" Felicia asked.
Taylor shrugged. "I guess so."
"They must be goodlooking to produce the two of you," she commented. Neither Taylor nor I said anything. "So, what are they like?"
"Parents..." I suggested. "Mom's stylish, I suppose, but she can be a bit of a... a bit sarcastic," I corrected myself.
"But you have to admit she's witty," Taylor argued. "She's pretty nice normally. She just gets a bit stressed."
"She says I make her hair go grey," I put in. "But it hasn't, it's just blonde..."
"She's a little neurotic..." Taylor mused.
"A bit of a trouble-maker?" Felicia asked.
We shook our heads. "I wouldn't say that," I said.
"Dad's smart, but not as smart as Mom," Taylor said. "He's more fun with us."
"More down to earth," I agreed. "He doesn't try to confuse us."
"Mom doesn't try to confuse us!" Taylor protested.
"Speak for yourself, Mr IQ of 180!" I replied. "Mom doesn't confuse Taylor because he's probably smarter than she is." I paused. "Dad's cool. He taught me how to play soccer, but it's not exactly my best sport. He's funnier than Mom too..."
"So you're parents are generally happy people?" Felicia asked.
Taylor shrugged. "I guess so."
"They don't experience long periods of depression?" she continued.
"Ah... no..." I replied, shaking my head.
Taylor looked at his watch. "Oh god Shelle!" he said.
"Watch your language!" Felicia snapped. She smiled. "I'm sorry, I just can't stand people taking the Lord's name in vain."
Taylor stood up. "It's 4:30pm. We have to go now. Our parents will be home soon."
"Thanks for having us for tea," I added.
"Yeah thanks," Taylor put in.
"Thank *you* for coming," Felicia said. She walked us down the stair and to the door. "I hope I'll see you again soon," she said.
"Yeah, us too," I replied.
When we were back on the street Taylor turned to me. "Come on Shelle!" he begged me. "You can't tell me you don't think they're weird!"
I looked him straight in the eye. "I don't," I lied.
