Five minutes later Mike and I walked out of the school. "Meh meh meh, blah blah blah, lunch detention isn't so bad, is it Mr. Ward?" Mike mimicked Mrs. Green bitterly. "Who does she think she is? What a bitch…" I shook my head and said,
"Listen, you were the one who talked back. Just let it go. At least it's only one lunch detention; it could have been three." I watched Mike look over the little white piece of paper in his hand. He then huffed and stuffed it into his pocket.
"You're right. This is beneath me. I need to see the drama people, they'll make me happy again." I laughed as I replied,
"Right…right after they eat you alive."
"It's a funny ole' world isn't it?" Mike quoted. As we laughed I realized how much I loved Michael Ward. He had been my best friend since the sixth grade and he meant the world to me.
We walked down to the small sandwich place just off campus. As we walked inside I smelt the warmed sandwiches and smiled.
"God, I love eating here." I said to Mike. Mike was looking around as he replied hesitantly,
"Uh, really? Well, it seems nice."
"What isn't there to love about this place?" I asked as we walked to the counter. "It's privately owned, homemade food, no MSG…it's wonderful." Mike looked at me skeptically and said,
"Liz, while this place is many, many things, I wouldn't say that wonderful is one of them."
"How are you doing today?" Asked the clerk from behind the counter. I looked and smiled as I replied,
"We're great."
"Yes…yes we are." Mike said in a dismissive voice.
"What can I get for you folks?" he asked as he took out a pad of paper and a pen. I scanned over the menu above the counter one last time before I ordered.
"Give me a Philly cheese steak please with a large…orange soda." The guy wrote down my order as he asked,
"Anything else?" Mike replied,
"Actually I have a question, do you serve anything here that isn't fried or saturated in grease?" I looked in embarrassed shock at Mike as the guy answered slowly,
"Yeah…the veggie sandwich…"
"Alright then I'll have that." Mike said quickly. "With a water." The guy looked back at me with restrained enthusiasm. "Is that all?"
"Yeah, that's it." The man scratched some math on the pad.
"For here or to-go?" he asked.
"To-go." Mike said. The man looked up at Mike with disdain as he told us.
"$9.68." He then went back to make our food. I turned to Mike and said,
"You know it's attitudes like that that people get loogies in their food."
"Listen, I'm paying for this sandwich and I want to be informed of what I'm buying with my parents money!" Mike replied, flabbergasted that I would question his judgment.
"Mike, take it from someone who's worked fast food. It's not about what YOUthink. It's about what they think."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Mike asked. I took a breath and said,
"It means that when YOU ask questions, it gets people upset…and then they spit in your food." We both glanced over at the man making the sandwiches; he was an older guy in his fifties and made eye contact with Mike and me. Mike took a step back and leaned against the counter; he said,
"Liz, he's like sixty. He can't spit in people's food: he'll lose his dentures or something." The guy walked over and handed us our food; we stood up, paid and left the shop as quickly as possible.
Mike and I ate our dinner back in the cafeteria. When we were done it was 4:30 and our drama meeting was about to start. We went to the auditorium and listened to speeches about how the drama department is impartial and doesn't play favorites to anyone. We left the auditorium two hours later mentally exhausted and never wanting to see a stage again. I waited with Mike till his mom came and picked him up. Mike went home I went to the Spanish club meeting. It was pathetic: some white stumpy woman ran the club and could barely put two words together in English let alone speak the Spanish language. When the meeting was over I felt like I wasted hours of my life just because my father wanted me to have extra curricular activities on my college applications. I stood by the doors putting the last of my things into my bag when lightening flashed in the window. I stopped, looked out the window and thought, 'Well, this will be an interesting walk home…' I put my hoodie in my backpack took a deep breath as I walked out the door.
It wasn't a long walk to my house, maybe a mile and a half at most; however, walking alone at night made it seem a lot longer. I walked along the busy street trying to keep aware. 'Stupid Brent.' I thought. I had to walk home because he told dad he was "working"; he wasn't working, he was at a party making out with skanky sophomores. I couldn't tell dad about Brent lying or else Brent would ruin my home life, as I knew it.
Most of my friends had no brothers and they always told me how they'd kill for an older brother, especially and older brother like the famous "Brent Daniels": football and basketball star, president of student council, straight A student, and "totally popular". HA…little did they know. Most people tend to overlook the darker aspects of their idols. Sure he was smart but obsessive with a serious anger problem and enough mood swings to keep a circus busy. Sometimes I felt genuinely scared of him, I mean, he was a lot bigger and taller than me and when he got mad he was unpredictable. When we fought my dad would have to intervene so I wouldn't end up with a black eye.
BOOM. Thunder rumbled loudly and I got the chills. I rubbed my cold arms with my hands then pulled out my hoodie and slipped it on. As my head was inside the darkness of my hoodie I heard splashing water close by, as if someone was running through puddles. When my head popped out of the hoodie I looked around. Beside me was a large concrete storm drain and it looked like someone ran through the stagnant puddles. I shrugged and continued to walk until I heard someone shout.
"Lizzie!" At first I thought I heard someone, but I shrugged it off; I assumed it was my imagination. "Elizabeth!" It called again; the voice was a girl's and sounded extremely familiar, almost like my mother's voice; it seemed to come from the drain. I looked and thought, 'Okay, there is no possible way mom is down in that ditch…just keep walking.' I turned on my heel and walked until I heard it one more time: "Liz come down here!" I stopped, stared for a while at the concrete ditch, then left the sidewalk and took a few steps toward its edge.
"Hello?" I called down into it. "Is someone down there?" I heard feet moving around in water but no answer. My mind began to work, 'My God, what if it's a stalker? Or a rapist? No, it's couldn't be, that was a girl's voice…could it be a girl rapist? Can girls do that to girls? What if it's Lisa? It sounds a little like her voice…' "Lisa? Is that you?" I called down. I didn't hear any response. I looked around one last time as I debated with myself whether or not I should go into the drain. I looked at the large cement outfall as I remembered my father's warnings about the drain: 'After rains, there could be flash floods; the wrong kind of people hang out in those ditches; they leave broken glass and needles and dangerous stuff in those things so don't take that way as the short cut home.' That's what he always told me. A wave of spite passed over me. What did Dad know? Big fat nothing; he couldn't even see through all of Brent's lies about working and school and parties and grades…just to name a few.
With spite-empowered curiosity I walked down the side of the concrete drain. It was a deep, smelly drain full of stagnant, moss-laden puddles and empty pizza boxes. I looked into the outfall; it was the opening to a short pipe that ran under the street and opened on the other side. I could see night at the end of the tunnel but no person inside. "Hello?" I called again. I looked around in circles up and down the cement drain and saw no one. At that point I became frustrated, I was only hearing things…what a waste of my time. I shook my head and turned to run up the steep side of the drain. 'Stop imagining things.' I told myself, 'Let's go home and go to bed.' I took my first step to get out of the drain and felt something brush by the side of my foot. I looked down and saw a small box. It didn't look like trash to me…it looked like a gift. It had a pretty little ribbon and a crisp paper tag. Out of curiosity I bent down and looked at the tag, it read: Elizabeth Nicole Daniels. I froze; that was my full name. I stood up once more and looked around the drain. There was still no one there. I looked back down to the box; it was no bigger than the palm of my hand. I bent down again to check the tag and it still said my name.
This storm drain was becoming way too eerie for me. Hearing voices, miniature gift boxes with my name on them…I didn't like this. For the last time I squatted down and looked at the tag on the box and it was still addressed to me. That moment I felt water drop on my head and I saw multiple rain drops on the cement; it was beginning to rain. 'DUDE!' I thought to myself sarcastically, 'Rain? Honestly, could it get any better?' As the rain quickened I pulled my hood over my head and ran up the wall of the drain. I stood at the top for a moment then looked back down in the drain; the little box was still there. Knowing my brain would never forgive me if I didn't, I ran down the side of the drain, slid the box into my front pocket and began home.
I got to my house, soaked from the steadily falling rain, and opened the door. The house was warm; I could feel the goose bumps on my arms beneath my soaked sweater. I took off my shoes and began to walk up the stairs.
"Lizzie? Is that you?" My dad called from the kitchen.
"Yeah, it's me." I said back. My dad came out from the kitchen with a kitchen towel and wet pan.
"You're soaked!"
"Yeah, yeah I am." I said with a roll of my eyes. I shivered as my dad said,
"Listen, I'm sorry you had to walk in the rain Liz; you're such a trooper for understanding. Brent was working and the truck's in the shop-"
"Yeah, no prob dad." I interrupted. "Listen, I'm really cold and I need to take a hot bath okay?" My dad paused as I continued walking up the stairs.
"Okay." He said as I went in my room. "Dinner is downstairs when you're ready!" I dropped my bag on the floor, fell on my bed, and shivered as I rolled into my comforter. 'It's sooooo frickin' coooold.' I thought to myself. I sat up pulled off my sweater and threw it against my wall. 'That hot bath sounds so good right now.' I got out of bed and went into the bathroom. After the tub filled I got into the water and breathed. 'God what a day.' I thought. 'Stupid people, stupid clubs…' I looked down at my thighs, 'stupid STUPID me, why did I eat that sandwich…it tasted so great…' I knew that I had a weight problem. I was constantly reminded that I was thirty pounds over weight every time I put on my size 18 pants, and every time I went shopping for clothes, and anytime I ate anything in my house. I closed my eyes and rubbed my wet hands over my face; I had to stop thinking so negatively. I would go on a diet and stick to it this time, for real.
"Liz…" My eyes opened and I looked around the bathroom. It was the same voice that I heard at the storm drain, but this time it was outside the door and a lot weaker. I sat up, grabbed a towel and as I wrapped it around myself I flung the door open; no one was there. I walked into the hallway and looked in my brother and dad's rooms…no one was there. 'Okay, bath time over.' I thought. I drained the tub, grabbed my things out of the bathroom, and went into my room. I put on my pajamas and wrapped the towel around my hair. I jumped onto the bed and stared at the wet sweater on my floor.
"What the hell is going on today?" I asked the wet hoodie. After a few moments I crawled to the edge of my bed and pulled the box out of the wet hoodie. I observed it: the white wrapping paper was now soggy and the black ribbon was crushed. I waited a moment then carefully peeled the ribbon and wet paper off. Beneath the wrapping was a black cube; almost like an oversized die. I sat with the cube in the palm of my hand. 'Oookay…' I thought as I stared at the cube. I turned it over and over looking for a lid or something but there was none. I set it in my right palm and stared again. "What kind of joke is this?" I asked the cube. BEEEEEEEEP. I heard the fire alarm go off and I jumped. I clenched the box in my fist as I went to my hallway. The towel fell off my head as I looked up at the fire alarm on the ceiling; the alarm wasn't blinking and wasn't going off. "What?" I asked loudly over the noise when suddenly my right palm stung. "Ow!" I exclaimed and dropped the box. The prolonged beep stopped. I looked at the palm of my hand and saw a small bubble of blood in the center of my palm. I rubbed the spot where the blood was and looked; there was a prick there as if a needle stuck me. I continued to rub the prick then looked at the black box. What I saw next was really amazing, the cube started to vibrate violently on the carpet until it fell apart. I cradled my hand as I watched the box disintegrate; it fell apart like it was made out of black dirt, the pieces disappeared into dust.
"What the hell?" I asked no one as I breathed again. I looked at my hand. 'Did that box prick me? I don't get what just happened…' I felt like I couldn't move. That moment Brent walked through the front door.
"I'm home dad!" he shouted as he swaggered in. Oh my god, he was drunk.
"How was work, Brent?" My dad called back.
"Great." He said with a giddy smile as he walked up the stairs. He eyed me holding my hand and said, "Heeey…Lizzie." He laughed and said as he stumbled toward me, "Liz, Liz, Liz…Lizz-IE…" When he got to the top of the stairs he came to me, patted my head and whispered to me, "How's my little…secret-keeper, huh?" I began to open my mouth but that moment I felt a twang of pain in my head and my hands. I didn't reply; I turned, grabbed the towel off the floor and walked into my room. I shut the door behind me as I rubbed my hands together and looked around for my painkillers. I took two and sat on my bed; it was really uncomfortable. I rubbed my temples and closed my eyes. "What's going on?" I groaned as I rolled on my side. As I lay on my side my eyelids got heavy and could hardly stay awake. I closed my eyes as my heart raced and I thought, 'God, this hurts…thank God it's Friday.' I had no idea how thankful I would actually be; I had two whole days of rest after that night, and God knew I'd need them.