Behind his eyelids, he saw flashes of red before the burning color settled to hurt his eyes. Raising a hand weakly to shield his precious blue orbs from the sun, Joe turned to his side and tried to snuggle some more into his bed.

Pooey! Sand in my bed! Yucks!

He spat out more gravel and as consciousness returned to him, he realized that his bed had suddenly turned into a granite block smeared with soil. Dumfounded at having familiar comfort wrested out from him sometime in his sleep, Joe laid very still, thinking that he was perhaps still in some bad dream.

*"Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things…"

Maria?

That was the only thought that came to Joe's mind when he heard the soft singing. There was indeed a cathartic quality to the motherly sounding voice though a faint accent commanded her diction- an accent that he knew he should recognize but which was totally foreign to him.

I think my brains are on a holiday to WaWa land… Only I can think of such a strange paradox.

Hmm… maybe not one… maybe I just forgotten where I heard it before.

Think… think harder Hardy…

"Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things"

The lady who sold me the damn drink! It's all coming back, baby! I'm not on my bed! I'm somewhere, held captive by a kind-looking woman who reminds me of a sweet old nanny!

Am I in danger? Hmm…

Joe was baffled then. Slowly, he opened his eyes, squinting them against the sun rays that greeted his eyeballs so enthusiastically like a long lost friend. He struggled up, using his right hand to push himself up. Rubbing his eyes, he let the scenery fill his view as blurry colors and overlapping shapes focused into recognizable sight.

Trees. He was in a clearing bordered by plenty of trees. There was no snow. He was in a tropical region and half-sitting, half-lying on a forest path. Sand stuck to his arms and languidly, he brushed them away when a musky rose scent wafted to his nose and soon after, the plump, kindly face of the middle-aged lady who sold him the spiked drink filled his entire view.

"You sure take a long time to wake!" She exclaimed before ruffling his hair. Unsure of what he was supposed to do when faced with his captive, Joe bit his lips and remained in that uncomfortable position. His right hand was so tired of supporting his weight.

"Come! Help me pick up as many dead leaves as you can!" She reached over and clapped him on the back. Joe noticed then that a basket half-filled with dried, shriveled leaves lay just next to her.

He was unable to contain his curiosity.

"Dead leaves? Why would you want dead leaves for?" Joe stood up shakily. The weirdness of her request and the fact that she was unlike any of his many previous captors who had Uzis all ready to shoot at him had thrown him off guard. The woman was collecting her leaves after she picked up her basket. Joe decided to play along and bent over to pull out a soggy brown leaf half buried in the soil.

"Because they are one of my favorite things." She turned to him and winked- the twinkle in her eyes reminded him so much of his own mother. With that reminder, Joe felt like running into his mother's arms. He would be extremely ashamed of wanting to be affectionate with his mother, just like a little child, had he been back in Bayport. But at that moment, there was no denying that he missed Laura terribly.

And Fenton.

Then Frank most of all.

Must be because my enthusiasm for fun got me and Frank separated so far away from home.

I may never go back home! Frank kept most of our money!

I only have enough for two meals at most…. *shudders*.

And I don't know where's the Embassy!!!!

I'm a goner.

"You look like a prune now!" She waved a hand in front of his face and he jolted back to reality. Shaking his head, he threw the leaf into the basket and she beamed, pulling it out from her basket and examining it after. Nodding with satisfaction, she put it back again.

Normally, Joe would have branded her crazy. But because of his experience with Clown and now, this lady whom he had no nicknames for, he felt like he, being normal, was actually the crazy person.

What is normal and what is not may just be because the majority dictates it to be so.

Maybe we are all crazy… the boring people that is. And they are the ones who actually know some ancient knowledge. When we laugh at them, they laugh back at us silently- calling us the ignorant fools who knows nothing.

Besides work, play, eat, crap and sleep.

"Now, what are you thinking of?" She tilted her head to one side out of curiosity. Joe compressed his lips and shook his head again, not knowing that he was wearing his thoughts on his face.

"You must think I'm an oddball!" She guessed his thoughts and he was not shocked by her accuracy. She pointed down the trail he was sleeping on and indicated for him to follow her.

Which he did after hefting up his backpack and wishing that, somehow, it was all a dream.

"It's not that… just… you pick up leaves… dead leaves… not even flowers…" Joe finally found a voice and it sounded more like a series of croaks. His throat was as dry as sandpaper and swallowing saliva hurt so much that he choked.

Immediately she stopped and rummaged through the dead leaves before she drew out a seal plastic glass that was suspiciously just like the one he drank from before he slipped into dream land.

She turned around and passed the drink to him.

"There!"

"No!" Joe refused the drink animatedly and actually took a step back.

"This one won't make you sleep. You're very boring when you sleep… not that you're any more interesting now."

"My mom says I look like an angel when I sleep! And I look so lovable that she can just look at me for ages! I don't find her getting bored when I was young!" Joe suddenly felt very defensive but the water was indeed tempting.

"Then you're only useful when you're sleeping." She winked at him again and he had a nagging feeling that she was laughing at him inside.

Man, I must have sounded like a child!

His own words replayed in his mind and he giggled before breaking out into loud guffaws. He must seem so ridiculous that he was funny even to himself.

Man! An Eighteen year old sounding like an eight year old! I must be degenerating…

She joined in the mirth. Laughter broke the tension and unfamiliarity between the both of them. Peeling off the cover of the plastic glass, she drank from it before passing it to him.

"See, no drugs. No poison." She spoke to him finally after the laughter broke. But the shared moment of light-heartedness was enough for both to take a step forward to knowing each other.

Joe took the glass and drank from it- plain water tasted sweetest when it was soothing a parched throat. They walked down the trail for a quite some time in silence, stopping on occasions when she bent down to pick up a leaf. Joe could not comprehend why she would want to pick up dead leaves- and not only dead leaves but dead leaves that caught her interest. If that was not strange, Joe did not what was.

"You haven't answered my question. Why do you pick dead leaves?" Joe could not help asking again when, for the umpteenth time, she bent over and cooed over one brown paper that once was vibrantly green with life.

"Why not?" She replied without answering him- without taking her eyes off the leaf.

"Because… because…" Joe gestured around vaguely, not knowing what else to say. "Well…"

"Just because no one does it?" She straightened herself up and plopped the leaf into the basket, now almost filled.

"Not only that, it's the one you picked and choose…"

"I only have one basket- of course I want the best." She turned around and smiled at him before she continued down the trail.

"Ok, let's not talk the leaves. Why was I drugged?"

"Because you refused to go. We have no choice. Your brother has to meet someone special all by himself."

"Someone special? Who? Clown? Did he kill Frank???" Joe laid a hand on her shoulder and when she spun around, Joe saw that she was trying to stifle her giggles.

"You're such a worry wart!"

"Look at the situation I'm in! My brother's somewhere but I don't where! I'm halfway round the world, drugged, then brought to this forest, stuck with someone who loves dead leaves! Not just any dead leaves but the best ones! Are you trying to find out which ones died the most tragically by reading into their veins?" Joe threw his hands up in the air in an act of capitulation. All she did was look at him with some tragic sadness.

"WHAT?" He yelled, a little peeved.

"Do you hate to be persecuted just because you're different?" She pursed her lips as her black eyes dimmed to a shimmering dark grey.

"Hmm…. I…." Joe could not meet her eyes. Instead, he looked down and stared at his feet covered by a pair of running shoes which was once gaudy but now seasoned and faded. They were bright blue with streaks of green. Without the usual shoelaces, they seemed a little funny. It seemed as if in the whole Bayport, he was the only who had fallen hopelessly in love with this pair of overpriced shoes that Frank commented looked like Darth Maul with a bad case of diarrhea. Joe had been hurt when all his friends thought he had lousy taste and were very expressive of their opinions. He had spent extra hours in Mr. Pizza just to buy the pair of shoes and he really loved it a lot.

For no reason why. He just liked it. Liking the pair of shoes did not make him a bad person- it just proved that his tastes were different. Who's to judge what's beautiful and what's not? But he was given hell for a couple of weeks because of it. The only thing that stopped him from throwing the pair of shoes away even though he loved it was the price he paid for it.

And despite the bad press, he felt it was worth every single penny. It was beautiful to his eyes, extremely light and he won the hundred meter sprint in the previous Bayport High annual sports meet with it.

After which Tony bought a pair, Phil bought a pair and Chet bought a pair.

Frank shook his head and muttered, "Monkey see, monkey do."

"I love dead leaves. They were once bursting with life, each one of them giving us that extra bit of shade- converting that extra bit of carbon dioxide into oxygen; cleaning our air. When they die, they fall to the ground and were contended not to have pompous ceremonies despite the good they have done simply because they could not do anything else. I just love them. For those reasons and more… something more that I cannot explain. Do I answer your questions?" She answered him softly while gently rummaging through the leaves like they needed to be comforted by understanding hands.

"Soowies." Joe mumbled and wriggled his toes in the constraints of his shoes. Vanessa once told him he was a typical guy. Guys stare at their feet and wriggle their toes when they did not know what to do.

"Oh, forget about it." She passed the basket to him and he took it from her and followed her further down the trail. He could tell that the trees were dispersing, not as densely spaced.

"So?" Joe stopped in mid-stride and asked her after a spell of silence between the both of them

"So what? You made me sad so you can carry this for me!" She continued trekking at a speed that was amazing for someone her age.

"I don't mean the damn basket! What about Frank? Where's Frank?" Joe hurried after her, spilling some leaves out of the basket as he did so.

"Hmm, tough question. Maybe he's already at Um." She replied disinterestedly. At the mention of the blasted island, Joe seethed.

"It's that stupid island that got us separated…"

"Or reunite you two… look." She lowered her voice mysteriously and pointed ahead. Joe saw that the trail actually led out of the forest. He could see some sort of beach in the distance but it was still very far away.

"Wait… are we on Um?"

"You're on an island. Does the name matter?" Her flippant tone put a scowl on Joe's face. Joe was certain then that she and Clown must have arrived from the same planet.

Or at the very least, the same island.

"It's so far away… are you sure Frank's going to be there?" Joe grumbled, not wanting to walk any more.

"He'll probably be so happy that I took his whiny brother away for a while! So much more peaceful for him, don't you think?" She turned back and beamed at him. When she turned around, Joe stuck out a tongue at her.

"Sing along with me. You'll find the journey much shorter with a song." She called to him and started singing.

"Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things…"

Wild geese? Yuck.

Then he smiled, for who was he to judge the composer's tastes? Wild geese never hurt anyone.

But what if our tastes actually cause harm to people? Is it still a matter of perspective?

Shaking his head, not really wanting to think then, Joe hummed along with her and caught up with her in no time at all.


* My Favorite Things from the musical, The Sound of Music.