I know it's been a while, but I've been bombarded with homework! Sorry!
So here's the next chapter.
Chapter 2
Returning Past
I put the picture back into the box, and searched for another. There weren't many. He was on Enterprise for such a short period of time, about half of which was spent coming back to Earth. The box's contents were mostly data disks storing transmissions from the crew. Up until then, I never really grasped how much he missed them- so much so that he had to abandon their old transmissions. I closed up the box, but then thought twice about doing so. I reopened it, and randomly pulled out one of the data disks. There was an old computer up here, so I walked over to it, and turned it on. I put in the data disk, and watched the screen. The old monitor flickered as it came on, the scratchy sounds of static evident, though faint.
The transmission date came up against the black screen, and I could see that it was the day before my first birthday. Jon's smiling face soon replaced the text, and for the first time in a decade, I heard his voice.
"Hi, Trip-" and he said sweetly in the only way I could understand at the time- "hi K'Ela, happy birthday!"
Then he began to talk to Dad with a more solemn tone. "How's it going, Trip? Did you end up going to your parents' house?" He paused. He looked as though he wanted to ask something, but wondered if it would be too painful for both of them. "I really hope you're doing well. Last time we spoke, you looked a little..." He sighed. "Tired." He hesitated once more, unsure of what to say exactly.
Hearing this, my heart sank. I realized Dad wasn't too stable then. I know I've asked him about it before, but he just shrugged it off saying that it takes a while for anyone to get used to change.
Jon continued. "I wish I could have sent you a transmission in real time, but things are getting really busy around here, and it's hard to find time that both of us can spare." He rested a second, sitting back a bit in his chair. "Trip, I've been trying to avoid bringing this up, but... you don't seem to be doing so well. Please, Trip, just talk to me about this. I don't want anything to happen to you, and it might help even a little, just... to get a few things off your chest." He allowed the idea to sink in before saying, "I'll talk to you in a little while, whenever's best. Goodbye."
And with that, the screen went black. So did my mind. Jon's words echoed in my thoughts: "You don't seem to be doing so well. Please, Trip, just talk to me about this. I don't want anything to happen to you." What did that mean? I didn't want to think that he was that hurt by everything that happened, moving back to Earth, being a father. But now that I looked back on everything I could remember, it all made sense, and I almost couldn't believe that I never saw it before.
I tried to think as far back as I could, even just to salvage a scrap of an image.
I jumped into my dad's arms, getting him to wake up completely, though I think possibly hurting him in the process. It was early in the morning, at least for Dad, since he stayed up much later than I did. He sat forward in the chair, putting his arms around me.
"I know. I'm awake," he said, hugging me. "You alright if we go out now?"
I shook my head with a frown.
"Why not, K'Ela? Why don't you want t' go t' school?"
"I'm not like 'em, Daddy. I don't like when they pick on me."
His shoulders slumped. "I know, I know..." He sighed. "But the truth is, you *are* like 'em on the inside." He almost said, "No- you're *better* than them." Maybe it was better that he didn't. He kissed me on the cheek, and it did make me feel a little less sad.
"Now c'mon," he said with a smile. "You gotta catch the bus."
As we walked to the end of our street, he held my hand to make me feel more at ease about going, although now that I looked back on this, I could see that holding my hand helped both of us. His face showed how nervous he was just to face the other parents at the bus stop.
The air was humid and hot, as a Florida late summer day should be, the heat not so intense in the early morning. As we reached the end of the road, it became evident once more to me how different we really were. The other children were away from the parents, talking and playing, and some attempting to cause trouble, while the younger ones of course, who were still unsure of themselves, stood beside their parents, refusing to stray from their protective aura. The older kids were talking in their own little group as well, but none of their parents were there, for protection against embarrassment on their kids' parts. The parents were talking with one another, but once in a while one of them had to walk over and pull away a disobedient child.
No one really acknowledged our arrival as friends do with each other, and not many hellos came from the "clique" of parents. Although, one person always was friendly to us, and she made sure to say "hi"- Sarah Eston. Her younger sister, Elisabeth, was one of the children that was off with the others, but she would later become one of my friends. I stood behind Dad the entire time.
When the bus came, I didn't want to leave.
"You're gonna be fine," he told me as he hugged me goodbye.
I got on the bus and looked for a seat. The same glares I had gotten the year before hurt me much more now that I wasn't the "new kid;" I was just different. I almost started to cry, because I knew that the same treatment would be coming with those stares. Just then, I felt a tap on my shoulder, and I turned around. It was Elisabeth.
"Do you want to sit with me?" she asked me.
I just nodded, and we walked down the aisle until we found an empty seat. I sat at the window, and waved goodbye to Dad. A smile appeared on his face, one that was genuine now, out of happiness that I had left some of my anxiety behind, and he waved back. I watched him as we drove away, unwilling to leave my only comfort behind by turning away. But eventually, we drove too far for me to see his face, and I had to be aware of the bus now.
The rows of seats were half full, the single Vulcan child quiet and dignified, while the human children were a blend of the quiet and the timid, and the hyper and uncontrollable, with the majority being somewhere in between the two extremes. Still, the cacophony of voices and laughter was a bit unsettling when I knew that mixed in were a few snickers and insults, many of which were at me. Of course, the Vulcan had insults thrown at him as well, and some spoken directly to him because they knew that a Vulcan may say something along the lines of a disapproval, but he couldn't fight back physically. In my mind, that was even crueler than exclusion.
But I couldn't say life was *completely* bad, because there was always that group of kids who thought it was cool to have someone different around. They were my friends.
When we arrived at the school, I and the rest of the second grade were led into the cafeteria by the principal, so from there we could be put into groups by who our teachers were. There was a dank smell that, though faint, still made me crinkle my nose. The whole school smelled old. Built in 2136, the brick and cement were now chipping away, and though the age of the school was covered up with new coats of paint, and the classrooms of the younger grades were filled with bright and happy colors, it smelled used. The scent of sterile material had dissipated years previous to my first day.
The principal then let the teachers call off their student's names, and we all walked to our classrooms. We had to go up a flight of stairs to the second grade classrooms, and down to the end of the hallway. As I entered, I saw the small, wood and metal desks, ink scribbles covering small sections, and stuck to the front of the desks were name cards. We now had to search for our own names, then sit at that desk. It sounded easy enough. Mine was simple to spot, as it was right next to Mrs. Griffin's desk, on the right side of the room. I went right over to mine, unwilling to converse with the other students, some of which had never been in a class with me, and were whispering together. I didn't bother to pay attention.
I looked at the laminated name tags, carefully stuck on the front of our desks with masking tape, to see who sat beside me. Once I sat, to my right would be Elisabeth Eston, and to my left would be David Quinn. I didn't know David, but at least I knew Elisabeth.
I looked up as a short boy stopped at my desk. He had sandy blonde hair and hazel eyes. He, as all the others I haven't met before, was staring at me to try to figure out what species I was. He stared only for a few seconds, then looked at my name tag.
"K... Ka... Kella..."
"K'Ela," I corrected.
"What kinda name is that?"
"Xyrillian."
He gave me a confused glare.
"Who are you?"
"David Quinn."
"You sit here, then," I said, gesturing toward the desk to my left.
"I know," he said somewhat unkindly.
He was a little hesitant to sit down, but realized he was going to be there for a long time, and sat. The rest of the class was enough to make a teacher go insane. All those that were not already sitting were talking with their friends (although everyone sitting was talking to their friends as well), and their voices combined with those that came in through our open door created a shrill tumult that filled the classroom.
I was the first to notice that the teacher had called our attention. Mrs. Griffin was tall and lean, her features plain, but seemed much prettier with the addition of her thin-framed glasses and patient smile. "Class..." she called.
It took a little while for them to notice her, but they did, and they sat down.
The next few hours were a blur in my memory, and were barely more than a few scattered pictures that left gaps between events. The next thing I remember is coloring a paper of number patterns; one that, when colored correctly, created a picture. It was simple addition and subtraction, and I wasn't the only one who had this paper. Mrs. Griffin had given us this time to talk, while still doing some work.
I was coloring contentedly with my dull yellow crayon when I heard, "So what species are you, anyway?" I guess David finally decided to speak to me.
I looked up, a little stunned by his question that came out of the blue, and somewhat because I wanted to verify that he was speaking to me.
"So?" he asked, becoming a little impatient at my silence.
"Xyrillian," I said quietly.
He waited a moment to speak, coloring in another abstract shape on the paper. "How do you say your name again?"
"K'Ela." I was about to stop there, but then I abruptly added in, "Tucker."
"So then... your dad's human," he inquired.
I nodded.
"And your mom's..."
"Xyrillian," I helped. "But I've never seen her." I went back to coloring.
"What happened to 'er?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. I just never saw her."
He looked a bit confused. "Did she die?"
"Maybe."
My memory skipped again. Second grade was so long ago that the whole experience had almost dissipated from my mind. I next remember coming back home, Dad picking me up and tossing my backpack on the floor next to the stairs.
That night at dinner, I felt compelled to ask about my mother.
"Dad?"
"Hm?"
"...What happened to mom?"
He stopped eating, but still looked at the table. "Do you want to know about her?"
I nodded.
"...I really wish I could tell you everything about her, but..." He stopped, knowing he'd have to tell me something. He wanted to wait until I was older to tell me everything; he knew there were things I wouldn't have understood at the time. But for now he would just have to answer my question. "She died, K'Ela. On her ship."
I accepted this, knowing she was most likely gone from the start, but I didn't just leave it at that. "What was her name?"
"Ah'Len."
"Do you know how she died?"
His eyes became far away, and he seemed frozen. He didn't move; he just sat and stared at the floor to his right.
"Dad?" I asked quietly, leaning toward him to see his face more clearly.
By saying that, I jolted him out of his daze. I then really wished I hadn't said anything, because he sat in silence for the rest of dinner. If I only knew the guilt he felt before I asked.
I had to end it somewhere, although I wanted to end it a little bit later... Anyway. Good? Bad? Tell me, I can take it! Just keep to constructive criticism if you have to say something bad about it. (Don't just tell me it sucks!)
I have a good concept of the next chapter, and of the end, but... see... there are those pesky chapters in the middle where I have just bits and pieces of plot. I'm not quite sure what to do, or what you want to see, so if you have something you REALLY want to see written, just post and tell me about it. You never know, you might just see it (and you bet I'll be sure to thank you). Here's your chance to participate!
(I feel like a homeless person on the street... "Please? Help a poor author out with writer's block?")
Chapter 2
Returning Past
I put the picture back into the box, and searched for another. There weren't many. He was on Enterprise for such a short period of time, about half of which was spent coming back to Earth. The box's contents were mostly data disks storing transmissions from the crew. Up until then, I never really grasped how much he missed them- so much so that he had to abandon their old transmissions. I closed up the box, but then thought twice about doing so. I reopened it, and randomly pulled out one of the data disks. There was an old computer up here, so I walked over to it, and turned it on. I put in the data disk, and watched the screen. The old monitor flickered as it came on, the scratchy sounds of static evident, though faint.
The transmission date came up against the black screen, and I could see that it was the day before my first birthday. Jon's smiling face soon replaced the text, and for the first time in a decade, I heard his voice.
"Hi, Trip-" and he said sweetly in the only way I could understand at the time- "hi K'Ela, happy birthday!"
Then he began to talk to Dad with a more solemn tone. "How's it going, Trip? Did you end up going to your parents' house?" He paused. He looked as though he wanted to ask something, but wondered if it would be too painful for both of them. "I really hope you're doing well. Last time we spoke, you looked a little..." He sighed. "Tired." He hesitated once more, unsure of what to say exactly.
Hearing this, my heart sank. I realized Dad wasn't too stable then. I know I've asked him about it before, but he just shrugged it off saying that it takes a while for anyone to get used to change.
Jon continued. "I wish I could have sent you a transmission in real time, but things are getting really busy around here, and it's hard to find time that both of us can spare." He rested a second, sitting back a bit in his chair. "Trip, I've been trying to avoid bringing this up, but... you don't seem to be doing so well. Please, Trip, just talk to me about this. I don't want anything to happen to you, and it might help even a little, just... to get a few things off your chest." He allowed the idea to sink in before saying, "I'll talk to you in a little while, whenever's best. Goodbye."
And with that, the screen went black. So did my mind. Jon's words echoed in my thoughts: "You don't seem to be doing so well. Please, Trip, just talk to me about this. I don't want anything to happen to you." What did that mean? I didn't want to think that he was that hurt by everything that happened, moving back to Earth, being a father. But now that I looked back on everything I could remember, it all made sense, and I almost couldn't believe that I never saw it before.
I tried to think as far back as I could, even just to salvage a scrap of an image.
I jumped into my dad's arms, getting him to wake up completely, though I think possibly hurting him in the process. It was early in the morning, at least for Dad, since he stayed up much later than I did. He sat forward in the chair, putting his arms around me.
"I know. I'm awake," he said, hugging me. "You alright if we go out now?"
I shook my head with a frown.
"Why not, K'Ela? Why don't you want t' go t' school?"
"I'm not like 'em, Daddy. I don't like when they pick on me."
His shoulders slumped. "I know, I know..." He sighed. "But the truth is, you *are* like 'em on the inside." He almost said, "No- you're *better* than them." Maybe it was better that he didn't. He kissed me on the cheek, and it did make me feel a little less sad.
"Now c'mon," he said with a smile. "You gotta catch the bus."
As we walked to the end of our street, he held my hand to make me feel more at ease about going, although now that I looked back on this, I could see that holding my hand helped both of us. His face showed how nervous he was just to face the other parents at the bus stop.
The air was humid and hot, as a Florida late summer day should be, the heat not so intense in the early morning. As we reached the end of the road, it became evident once more to me how different we really were. The other children were away from the parents, talking and playing, and some attempting to cause trouble, while the younger ones of course, who were still unsure of themselves, stood beside their parents, refusing to stray from their protective aura. The older kids were talking in their own little group as well, but none of their parents were there, for protection against embarrassment on their kids' parts. The parents were talking with one another, but once in a while one of them had to walk over and pull away a disobedient child.
No one really acknowledged our arrival as friends do with each other, and not many hellos came from the "clique" of parents. Although, one person always was friendly to us, and she made sure to say "hi"- Sarah Eston. Her younger sister, Elisabeth, was one of the children that was off with the others, but she would later become one of my friends. I stood behind Dad the entire time.
When the bus came, I didn't want to leave.
"You're gonna be fine," he told me as he hugged me goodbye.
I got on the bus and looked for a seat. The same glares I had gotten the year before hurt me much more now that I wasn't the "new kid;" I was just different. I almost started to cry, because I knew that the same treatment would be coming with those stares. Just then, I felt a tap on my shoulder, and I turned around. It was Elisabeth.
"Do you want to sit with me?" she asked me.
I just nodded, and we walked down the aisle until we found an empty seat. I sat at the window, and waved goodbye to Dad. A smile appeared on his face, one that was genuine now, out of happiness that I had left some of my anxiety behind, and he waved back. I watched him as we drove away, unwilling to leave my only comfort behind by turning away. But eventually, we drove too far for me to see his face, and I had to be aware of the bus now.
The rows of seats were half full, the single Vulcan child quiet and dignified, while the human children were a blend of the quiet and the timid, and the hyper and uncontrollable, with the majority being somewhere in between the two extremes. Still, the cacophony of voices and laughter was a bit unsettling when I knew that mixed in were a few snickers and insults, many of which were at me. Of course, the Vulcan had insults thrown at him as well, and some spoken directly to him because they knew that a Vulcan may say something along the lines of a disapproval, but he couldn't fight back physically. In my mind, that was even crueler than exclusion.
But I couldn't say life was *completely* bad, because there was always that group of kids who thought it was cool to have someone different around. They were my friends.
When we arrived at the school, I and the rest of the second grade were led into the cafeteria by the principal, so from there we could be put into groups by who our teachers were. There was a dank smell that, though faint, still made me crinkle my nose. The whole school smelled old. Built in 2136, the brick and cement were now chipping away, and though the age of the school was covered up with new coats of paint, and the classrooms of the younger grades were filled with bright and happy colors, it smelled used. The scent of sterile material had dissipated years previous to my first day.
The principal then let the teachers call off their student's names, and we all walked to our classrooms. We had to go up a flight of stairs to the second grade classrooms, and down to the end of the hallway. As I entered, I saw the small, wood and metal desks, ink scribbles covering small sections, and stuck to the front of the desks were name cards. We now had to search for our own names, then sit at that desk. It sounded easy enough. Mine was simple to spot, as it was right next to Mrs. Griffin's desk, on the right side of the room. I went right over to mine, unwilling to converse with the other students, some of which had never been in a class with me, and were whispering together. I didn't bother to pay attention.
I looked at the laminated name tags, carefully stuck on the front of our desks with masking tape, to see who sat beside me. Once I sat, to my right would be Elisabeth Eston, and to my left would be David Quinn. I didn't know David, but at least I knew Elisabeth.
I looked up as a short boy stopped at my desk. He had sandy blonde hair and hazel eyes. He, as all the others I haven't met before, was staring at me to try to figure out what species I was. He stared only for a few seconds, then looked at my name tag.
"K... Ka... Kella..."
"K'Ela," I corrected.
"What kinda name is that?"
"Xyrillian."
He gave me a confused glare.
"Who are you?"
"David Quinn."
"You sit here, then," I said, gesturing toward the desk to my left.
"I know," he said somewhat unkindly.
He was a little hesitant to sit down, but realized he was going to be there for a long time, and sat. The rest of the class was enough to make a teacher go insane. All those that were not already sitting were talking with their friends (although everyone sitting was talking to their friends as well), and their voices combined with those that came in through our open door created a shrill tumult that filled the classroom.
I was the first to notice that the teacher had called our attention. Mrs. Griffin was tall and lean, her features plain, but seemed much prettier with the addition of her thin-framed glasses and patient smile. "Class..." she called.
It took a little while for them to notice her, but they did, and they sat down.
The next few hours were a blur in my memory, and were barely more than a few scattered pictures that left gaps between events. The next thing I remember is coloring a paper of number patterns; one that, when colored correctly, created a picture. It was simple addition and subtraction, and I wasn't the only one who had this paper. Mrs. Griffin had given us this time to talk, while still doing some work.
I was coloring contentedly with my dull yellow crayon when I heard, "So what species are you, anyway?" I guess David finally decided to speak to me.
I looked up, a little stunned by his question that came out of the blue, and somewhat because I wanted to verify that he was speaking to me.
"So?" he asked, becoming a little impatient at my silence.
"Xyrillian," I said quietly.
He waited a moment to speak, coloring in another abstract shape on the paper. "How do you say your name again?"
"K'Ela." I was about to stop there, but then I abruptly added in, "Tucker."
"So then... your dad's human," he inquired.
I nodded.
"And your mom's..."
"Xyrillian," I helped. "But I've never seen her." I went back to coloring.
"What happened to 'er?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. I just never saw her."
He looked a bit confused. "Did she die?"
"Maybe."
My memory skipped again. Second grade was so long ago that the whole experience had almost dissipated from my mind. I next remember coming back home, Dad picking me up and tossing my backpack on the floor next to the stairs.
That night at dinner, I felt compelled to ask about my mother.
"Dad?"
"Hm?"
"...What happened to mom?"
He stopped eating, but still looked at the table. "Do you want to know about her?"
I nodded.
"...I really wish I could tell you everything about her, but..." He stopped, knowing he'd have to tell me something. He wanted to wait until I was older to tell me everything; he knew there were things I wouldn't have understood at the time. But for now he would just have to answer my question. "She died, K'Ela. On her ship."
I accepted this, knowing she was most likely gone from the start, but I didn't just leave it at that. "What was her name?"
"Ah'Len."
"Do you know how she died?"
His eyes became far away, and he seemed frozen. He didn't move; he just sat and stared at the floor to his right.
"Dad?" I asked quietly, leaning toward him to see his face more clearly.
By saying that, I jolted him out of his daze. I then really wished I hadn't said anything, because he sat in silence for the rest of dinner. If I only knew the guilt he felt before I asked.
I had to end it somewhere, although I wanted to end it a little bit later... Anyway. Good? Bad? Tell me, I can take it! Just keep to constructive criticism if you have to say something bad about it. (Don't just tell me it sucks!)
I have a good concept of the next chapter, and of the end, but... see... there are those pesky chapters in the middle where I have just bits and pieces of plot. I'm not quite sure what to do, or what you want to see, so if you have something you REALLY want to see written, just post and tell me about it. You never know, you might just see it (and you bet I'll be sure to thank you). Here's your chance to participate!
(I feel like a homeless person on the street... "Please? Help a poor author out with writer's block?")