Wahooo my first Escaflowne fic! plz read and review puppy dog eyes.
Thanx to mysterychild, tiki-chan and jordan for being my beta-readers, sniff sniff I love you guys. newayz enjoy reading, and don't sue me unless you want...lint! cuzI don't own a thing!
Liberty: Chapter 1
"What happens if too early we lose a parent, that party on who we rely for only, everything? Why we are cut loose again and we wonder, even dread, whose hands will catch us now."
Charles Dickens: Nicholas Nickelby
He watched as the flames ate at his home, sweat ran down his face cooling the burning heat that had threatened to consume him too. The fire danced in front of his eyes making his maroon coloured orbs look haunting, disturbing. He breathed into the oxygen mask he was presented. He heard them cry out for help, smelled their burning flesh, he tried to pull them, oh God he tried hard. But fire isn't merciful, isn't, gracious, it's a greedy, ferocious, vicious, it is hungry. It is insatiable, and unless you plan to become part of its hellish dinner, you have to run. And run he did, anyone would have done the same thing; it had already devoured those he was trying to save. He watched as his beautiful mother was simmered in it, he was trying to drag her body to bathroom to dump water on her, however she never made it. That ravenous creature called a fire licked its way up her extended arm and almost gave him a third degree burn. She had died. Just like that. No 'I love you', no 'I'll miss you,' just the chilling screams of a dying woman. She ended with a thud. No dramatic, theatrical music in the background. She had been burned alive, eaten alive, and she had left the world fighting for her life, yet she didn't have a fighting chance. Where was the dignity in that? He should have died in that flame too dammit. And while all this was playing in slow motion in his mind, Van didn't cry. He couldn't cry. It was like his every emotion had taken a backseat to his thoughts. So instead of breathing which had become very difficult all of sudden, he did the only thing he could.
Van Fanel took off his mask and neatly hurled up every displeasure his body felt.
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Hitomi Kanzaki sighed and changed the channel.
"Hey 'Tomi flip it back!" complained her brother Mamrou.
Hitomi shook her head and looked disgustedly at her younger brother, "Seriously what is it with guys and Britney Spears? She's such a slut."
"You're just a jealous, opinionated, prude. Britney's hot," her brother countered sinking into the plush powder blue couch and crossing his arms. His bangs tickling his face lightly. Hitomi turned to her brother her coifed honey curls swishing along behind her facial features.
"I'll take that as a compliment baby brother," Hitomi answered, crossing her long legs. She continued switching the channel, till she found a movie which she would allow her fifteen year old sibling to watch, and settled up against the couch armchair. They had just moved again the second time in six months; luckily it was permanent this time. Her mothers traveling agency had decided that her mother had done enough traveling and had settled her mother and family in the little town of Liberty, which was thankfully very close to her old school about a twenty-five minute drive away from her old friends, and old neighbourhood. She hated moving so much, as any teenager would, mainly because of her inability to make good friends fast. Oh yes she was a charming, respectable girl, with a crazy sense of humor and a craving for excitement. And people were drawn to her like a moth to a flame because of her fresh personality. However when people got closer to her they only saw her "bookish" also referred to as nerdy habits, an opinionated look on life, and the prudish way she carried herself, along with being quite the introvert, but not being to scared to show how intelligent or sarcastically witty she could be, Hitomi was used to being called the "Ice Princess", "Miss Frost" among other crueler things. People failed to realize that she had a strong sense of who she was and so she was not as insecure as they were. Of course she was also impossibly naïve, innocent but she could not, she refused to change for anyone who thought she should "loosen up" a bit. But whatever…she would make friends. Even if it took her a while.
"Hitomi, hey Hitomi," someone called her name, and it came echoing through her peaceful darkness.
"Huh?" she asked sitting up banging her head into her brother's nose. The pain vibrated through her head, what a wonderful wake-up call.
"Dammit, Hitomi do you not want me to breathe?" whined Mamrou rubbing his nose gently, he had taken punches harder than that but those were expected, surprises hurt a helluva lot more.
"Oh sorry, what do you want?" she inquired annoyed that he had awoken her from her much needed sleep.
"Aren't you going to dance class?"
"Yeah…what time is it?" she questioned groggily.
"Quarter to six," he replied turning the T.V back to MTV, he had left as soon as she fell asleep.
"And you couldn't have woken me up earlier you idiot?" she cried as she began to run up her soft cream coloured stairs.
"Be glad that I got you up or else you wouldn't have been able to dance!" he called out as he watched girls in the Ciara music video "shake their tail feathers". Leaning back he stretched his enormous legs on the mahogany coffee table sitting in front of him, and placed his arms across the length of the chair. Yup, this was the way you spend your Saturday afternoon. Watching hot girls dance around all day.
"Lazy bum," he heard his sister mutter before rushing out of the house, he decided to ignore the comment.
Her black Lycra dance pants fit comfortably and held on snuggly to her lean form, and with her gray sweater she looked like someone who would appear in Flashdance. Sliding into her car and throwing her multi-coloured duffel bag behind her into the back of her BMW, she settled into the velour seat, gunned the ignition, and the lighthearted yet serious teen zipped down the street.
Ever since she was younger Hitomi wanted to dance, not the dancing they do on MTV mind you, ballet dancing, interpretive dancing, and waltzing. Anything smooth and utterly classy, anything beautiful. It was hard to pursue all three types of dancing so she asked to pick one, and interpretive dancing had been her choice, since it entailed almost all of the aforementioned genres. Usually interpretive dance didn't include any of that but she was lucky, they had found a dance school who would cater to her wishes, Floresta Dance School.
Turning right at the lights she drove for about five minutes then pulled up to the red bricked white pillared impressive structure. It was pretty, in the way that a mansion mixed with an office could be pretty. Okay so maybe pretty was the wrong adjective, just think about the type of mansion a business tycoon would have if he didn't have a wife. Meaning no flowers, just a circular gravel driveway (to drop your children off, the parking spaces were in the back) surrounding a circular patch of healthy green grass, with a tree in the exact middle. In other words strictly business looking, yet charming.
Parking her car across the street, even though she had to pay a fare it was probably easier to find a space than having to drive around. Grabbing her mostly emerald coloured duffel bag Hitomi ran across the street, stormed through the outstandingly bright white double doors, past the receptionist desk and almost literary dived into the dressing room.
"You definitely know how to make an entrance Hitomi," a familiar female voice commented.
"Hello to you too, Celena," answered Hitomi slipping her feet into her pink ballet flats and she took off her ash coloured sweater to reveal the matching tank top to her dance pants. She watched Celena disappear through the separating door, and heard the reprimand that was given to her for being five minutes late. If she didn't hurry she would have go through the same torture. Miss Eriya Cohen and her twin sister Naria didn't accept tardiness, if you punctual it meant you were focused and determined. They were great when it came to disciplining "wayward" or "lazy" kids, and they were as strict as a drill sergeant and as kind as Princess Diana on a good day. They knew the value of hard work because this was one of the top dance schools in all of this wonderful country called Gaea.
Stepping out into the florescent lit room Hitomi winced as Eriya's strong voice pierced the room, "Thank you for joining us Miss Kanzaki. Do you happen to know what time it is?" she asked sternly.
Hitomi nervously glanced at the clock, "Ten after six Miss Cohen," she replied in a small voice.
"Meaning that?"
"I'm ten minutes late."
"Yes but it also means you are interrupting your peers and our lesson time, first apologize to your dance mates and on Friday when you will arrive on time, please present me with a two paged essay on why tardiness is not acceptable."
"Sorry everybody for interrupting you," she apologized obediently. Her "dance mates" replied with the mandatory "it's okay" which was expected of the twin sisters as well, to avoid any rude comments and more "disruptions". (Sometimes it seems that school follows you no matter where you are.)
"Alright everybody from the top! Miss Kanzaki do your best to follow along, if you need any help just ask," she called out with a smile on her face. Hitomi nodded back, found a spot near the back where she positioned herself and their exercises began.
Like every tree stands on its own
Reaching for the sky I stand alone
I share my world with no else
All by myself, I stand alone.
The class was now separated in groups, and were now going through their warm up dances, stretching and releasing any tension in their muscles, breathing, pushing air, pulling imaginary objects towards them. The whole class was listening to the same song and trying to portray the story it was story it was telling however someone was annoyed, "Tell me why we start everyday with corny Disney songs?" complained Celena to her group members.
I know the sound of each rock and stone
And I embrace what others fear
You are not to roam in this forgotten place
Just the likes of me are welcomed here.
Walking gracefully and pointing her toes while doing so, Hitomi crossed her arms on her chest and brought them down in as fast as she had lifted them. Touching her face with her girl scouts positioned fingers; she pulled her fingers away and turned her face on her retreating digits. Circling half her face with her right hand she touched her chest then bowed and extended her arm fluidly, finally she stood upright rippling her body in time with the music. "I don't know Celena, but I do know if you don't stop talking the person who spased on us earlier is going to do it again," she answered continuing with her movements.
Everything breathes
And I know each breath
For me it means life
For others, it's death
It's perfectly balanced
Perfectly planned
More than enough
For this man.
As she predicted dance instructor Naria Cohen in her silver leotards, enchanting cat like features, just-from-Florida sunkissed skin, and dyed, shimmering silver coloured hair decided to join them, "Is there a problem Miss Schezar, Miss Kanzaki?"
Before Hitomi could give the expected reply Celena told her, "No Miss Cohen no problem, I was just wondering why we have to listen to unoriginal Disney songs everytime we practice."
"Oh, I believe you used the word corny. But they're not," replied the teacher raising her eyebrows. "Would anyone like to tell Miss Schezar why we listen to Disney songs at the start of every class?" she inquired looking at her and her sisters pupils. "No? Okay well it seems Miss Schezar was not the only one with this question. The reason class," she informed them walking lightly around each group dancing on the wooden floor, "is that you know these songs, and they are one of the easiest things to make actions to. Don't you remember that when you were a little kid you used to pretend to be Cinderella, or Snow White, or even Jasmine? Disney songs were made to make you feel like you were lighter than air, and that you could dance the night away. Even though they are clichés they are meant to inspire everyone. Everything is supposed to inspire us, because we are interpretive dancers, anything from nature, to the cars we drive, to the music we listen to. Everything students, and until you grasp that fact you will never be a dancer. But enough of the pep talk, me and my sister have something to announce," informed the trainer.
I've seen your world through these very eyes
Don't come any closer, don't even try
I've felt all the pain and I've heard all the lies
But in my world there's no compromise.
"Continue dancing wonderful pupils you were making me so very proud…but anyways, as my wise said we do have something to announce, our hopes of once again joining the group of young men across the hall have come true!" The group of girls stopped their actions and cheered. "Back to work ladies!" she called out and changed the ending song. "Also with these delightful gentlemen, we will be entering a dance competition. And if we're good enough—and hopefully we will be—we will compete in this years Couples Dance program. The winning school will have a chance to travel around all of Gaea to perform! But we are getting ahead of ourselves first we must practice, practice, practice!" notified the teacher clapping her hands and giggling like a giddy five year old.
"Now everyone let's start with some pirouettes," instructed Eriya and the class continued…
"Remember ladies we want suggestions for music selection by next week Saturday. Goodbye! Good luck during your first week of school!" the twins waved to their precious students, honey-suckle, and silvery ponytails swishing in time behind their heads.
"Those two are very odd people," commented a brunette when the herd of girls entered the dressing room.
"I prefer eccentric ladies!" called one of the two instructors, opening the door Eriya stepped through, "And Miss Kanzaki add half a page to that essay about why you shouldn't criticize your teachers when they discipline you, please. For your "spas" comment," commanded the blonde Miss Cohen, closing the door behind her.
"They also have the hearing of a cat," Hitomi grumbled.
"Thank you Kanzaki!" answered one of the two. And Hitomi slumped in her seat.
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Van stared at the quaint bungalow house standing proudly before him. It was almost identical to every other lining the God-forbidden street which was attempting to be something it wasn't. A real neighbourhood. It was like one of the ghetto "hoods" you saw in music videos all the time, except it didn't have wire-fences or toys, or makeshift tables with lawn chairs littering the lawn. Instead colourful flowers, and perhaps a tree or two—if you were lucky— were strewn across in perfect pattern. It was like every house was the remake of the last, but occasionally with different colours and accessories. People were very good at making the illusion of an little romantic street in which you could keep your door open at night and not have to be worried about a thing. Only with a keen eye could one see the peeling paint or a crack up the floorboards, or the group of suspicious looking teens not even a minute away. He could clearly see the graffiti on the walls which were painted over, and the burn marks on the house next to one he was facing. Which he was getting very used to seeing, by the way. This place desperately wanted to be the elegant yet somewhat rough suburbs, when it utterly and entirely…crap.
Bad adjective yes, but that's just what it was c-r-a-p. His mind couldn't muster up any other word to describe this place. It wasn't bad, but most certainly not good, or beautiful, or okay, or even ordinary. Just flat out blah. Add all the colour you want, change the design of the boring houses, and if you wish get rid of the kids that seemed to be getting louder and nearer at this moment, it would still be the same in his mind. It was then that Van decided he would leave this crappy-wannabe as soon as he got a proper job and education. He wouldn't return to Fanelia…then again maybe…Whatever, all he knew is that he was leaving this town, with the street and neighbourhood he would adjust to but never like.
Brooding Van was so lost in his thoughts—more like plans—that he didn't even realize his social worker with her brown tweed blazer and pencil skirt, a frilly white tank top, brown lizard scale patterned pumps, straight brown fluffy hair, high cheekbones, sharp yet pretty green eyes, and model like shape, was talking to him. Actually she was yelling at him now, but who has time for technicalities these days? "Van Slanzar Fanel, I'm talking to you," she proclaimed sternly, finally capturing his attention.
"Huh, oh sorry, I was thinking," he mumbled snapping out his daze.
"I said don't be rude, and remember to pay attention when people are talking to you," she restated.
"Okay," he agreed with a shrug beginning to walk down the cement walkway leading to the white front door. Mrs. Lenox stood beside his five foot ten figure, straightened her blazer and smoothed out her skirt, then lifted her hand to ring the doorbell. The voice that erupted from inside was enough to shake the whole town.
"I'm coming," boomed the baritone voice. Out strode—Van would have thought that anything his size would lumber— a man that no one would have believed could fit in the habitat he occupied, much less live in there. This enormous being would have given "Shaq" competition, because Van in his entire five twelve splendor had to look way up to even peer at this creatures face. He was probably seven feet and two hundred and fifty to three hundred pounds of pure muscle. Not a millimeter of fat on him. With a thicker neck than one of Mr. Mayor Schewartzenagar's arms, high cheekbones, strong jawline, two bushy dancing caterpillars for eyebrows, thin serious lips, and deep chestnut coloured hair which gray was trying to dominate. Then there was the mustache; perfectly trimmed yet bristled, as tainted with ash coloured hairs as his thick mane, it was like a ball of messy uncombed fur, sitting neatly on his lip, moving in perfect timing with them (lips that is). It was sort of troubling actually.
"It's wonderful to see you again Van," the man greeted driving his hand with incredible force. He had quite the firm handshake, and Van winced slightly.
"I'm sorry I don't remember you sir," Van shaking the man's hand back, slightly confused. If anyone that big had ever appeared at his door, he would definitely remember.
"That's right, it was probably fifteen years since I last saw you, I'm too big to forget unless your two and no sir call me Balgus," he smiled, large pearly white teeth glistening. "You must be Mrs. Lennox, well it's talk to you again will you come in? Stay for dinner?" he welcomed engulfing the dainty woman's hands in his paws.
Mrs. Lennox smiled a strained model smile and released her hand from his powerful grip. "No thank you but I appreciate the offer. It's always a pleasure indeed. But I must go, if you don't mind me asking, where's your wife?"
"Jenny's out buying groceries with Merle, the two of them should be home in about ten minutes, I'll tell them you said "hi"."
"Thanks Mr. Hoshino," she nodded, "Take care Van, have fun," she hugged him—weird— "You better behave Van, these are good people, friends of your parents, they'll take care of you," she whispered to him.
"Yes ma'am," he mumbled back grimly.
"And no mumbling young man," she ordered him patting his shoulders, then walked down the stairs and the walkway in a fashion that would have made a model proud. Waving one last time, Mrs. Lennox stepped out of Van Fanel's life forever, leaving him as always to fend for himself. Van seemed destined to be alone.
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She could hear her "mother" pull up into the driveway, but she didn't care she wanted to be caught. He continued to leave a burning trail down her skin, his hands went around her back and unclasped her bra like the professional he was, and he removed it and threw it to the floor. She ran her perfectly manicured hand through his thick black hair. She loved the way it curled just before his eyebrows, how it tickled her right where she wanted it. If only he'd move a bit faster…However this man, who happened to be older than her by about ten years, was intent on taking his time. He was now just hitting her stomach.
They heard her "mother" push the key in the whole and unlock the door. He was about to say something when she brought him up for a kiss. The duo got up from the couch which they had been occupying and into her "mother's" bedroom, she made sure she left a trail of clothes heading directly to that ivory and gold door. She left the door—a hair breadths wide—open, so that her "mother" could walk in at the perfect time. Her "mother" called her, but she was too busy to care, pale bright and sunny blonde hair, the colour of corn silk, mixed with dark ebony strands, creating an interesting pattern. Her "mother", as planned entered at the perfect time. Just as she was hitting the highest note in their wonderful crescendo, they didn't even hear her slam the door in disgust, so high they had gone. When they were done they covered with her "mother's" bed sheet, relishing in the afterglow.
It was at that moment, when contentment had just begun to lace through her body that her "mother" had decided to interrupt her. "What the hell are you doing?" she demanded.
The question had made her lover jump, but it was expected, and she told him to leave, while she dealt with her "mother".
"What I'm doing "mother" dearest is the very thing you do every night!" she yelled after the older man left. "You don't care what happens to me then you wench, you're too banged up to even care! Do you know how many nights I've been scared shitless that some creep that you bring home is going to knock me up too? You're such a conceited freak, who is too much in love with the good money that my father brings to you to even care! Do you know how many nights I've left you here after you're nightly fix, how many of you damned suitors come on to me, how many times I've left this house and enjoyed partying the night away at someone else's house! I could have been raped by now you slut! I could be dead in a gutter! You wanna know something else, I HATE YOU. And I'm going to enjoy the rest of my life partying and having great sex, which by the way you'll never have, while you rot in hell!" She hollered, finally being able to burst. Her "mother" did something so very predictable, and she had braced herself for it. A slap across the face hurt more than she thought it would, and she heard it echo off the walls.
"Get out you conniving witch, go to father, get raped, end up dead in a gutter, let some guy take advantage of you, overdose on drugs, choke on your vomit…I don't care just leave before I kill you myself," her "mother" sneered. But she stared at her instead, everything she despised stood right before, she wanted to make this thing called "mother"—who was her nanny—angrier. "LEAVE!" her "mother" roared, shaking the house, almost shattering the glass windows.
She skipped out of the, room dressed in toga, pale blonde hair following like a halo behind her, and left with everything she owned, or everything her father owned. Meaning anything that could hold in her Hummer.
Leave.
One of the single most freeing words a teenager could ever hear.
Leave.
It was a beautiful thing.
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He stared up at his white ceiling, he was absolutely tired, and yet he didn't want to sleep. He couldn't sleep. It was physically impossible, because as soon as he closed his eyes he could see them, he could hear them. Each and every time he shut his eyes, and his long eyelashes connected, it was like his senses extended beyond the natural world. He could feel his hand burn, he could smell her flesh smolder, and he could see the shape of his father lifeless in the corner. He had tried to forget, but it seems that forgetting was so intertwined with remembering, that it was one and the same thing.
'Focus on something else, and breathe dammit' he scolded himself. Something else…well how about that new family he was thrust upon? The most interesting he had come across in a while. Jenny—the giant's wife—was a petite pleasant looking woman, with auburn hair which bounced all the time, it never swished. She was a chef at a small restaurant down the street. She was a health nut, with the most original eye colour he had ever seen, it looked like the sun was setting over the biggest and clearest aquamarine sea in the world. When Balgus had caught him staring—which was extremely embarrassing—he told Van that, that was one of her many charms. The woman slapped her husband's arm playfully and blushed while shaking her head. Then there was Merle. Dressed in a tight fitting orange crocheted sweater and a black pouffy fifties skirt with black Converse All Stars, she had left a lasting impression. She was about two years younger than him, with flashing yet deep red hair, which was streaked with pink, electric blue eyes that peered playfully up him through cat eyes which were done up in pitch black mascara and cute lips which were lightly touched with cherry lip gloss, she looked so…He didn't even know how to describe her she was so beautifully unusual.
You do remember when he had resolved to leave this town after he got "a job and a proper education" right? Well there was now one complication. Merle Hoshino. He was infatuated with her. With her charm, with her grace, with her warm welcome, with the way she smiled, the way she laughed, with the way she hugged him goodnight. He hated it. He hated how all of a sudden a girl could show up and ruin your perfect plans. But he still had a chance, as long as he stayed infatuated with her, and not end up in love, he would get over her. 'You hear that buddy? Infatuated not in love. You didn't come to stay, you came for an extended visit.' He informed himself. Besides he didn't think it was right to have feelings for your adoptive sister.
He closed his eyes again. They opened with a flash, and he glanced at the time. It was three seventeen in the morning. Oh bloody hell, he was going to find some sleeping pills. He found the bathroom with little difficulty, and opened the medicine cabinet. Sleeping pills, sleeping pill, sleeping pills…where were the damned sleeping pills? 'Not everyone has problems sleeping idiot' he reminded himself. Okay, so screw the sleeping pills, he still had to find a way to tire himself out. Maybe if he made himself a sandwich, staying up all night was making him hungry.
So tiptoeing up the stairs—he was sleeping in the basement— the thin yet muscular onyx haired seventeen year old found his way to the kitchen. He would have to be quiet because everybody but him slept on this floor. He found the bread pulled out two pieces and threw them into the oven. Next he raided the fridge, pulling out the cheese and some ham and bacon concoction, he cut himself a couple of slices of cheese and then removed two slices of meat. When his toast was finished he slathered it with butter put the remaining ingredients on it, then stuffed everything back in the fridge, and gobbled it down finishing his meal with a glass of milk. Even after all that he still wasn't tired, so he would watch some T.V then use his uncle's exercise center.
Making his way back downstairs, he entered the incredibly neat and orderly rec. room. He would give his food some time to digest, then use the treadmill. Thirty minutes into the Matrix, or around the time "Morpheus was fighting Neo", Van got himself his running shoes and jumped (literally) onto the treadmill.
His father had always told him never eat past ten at night unless he wanted to be fat. And so every night when our young friend would have a midnight snack, he would either box it off, or run it off. He never gained any excess cellulite thanks his wonderful "papi". It was his dear father who had the best advice to give. It was always his dear father who wanted to move from the pleasant house they had been living in, always worried that the juvenile delinquents they had been living near would go farther then egging the house, and keying the car on Halloween. His father who was always scared for what family he had left. It was his father who had gotten him out of bed that night, his father was going to try to help his mother out, because she was pregnant again. It was his father who he saw get crushed underneath a fallen beam. It was his father…his stomach lurched. "Shit," was the only word he uttered as he ran to the bathroom and stuffed his face into the toilet bowl.
He didn't even have time to lift the toilet seat before it all came rushing out, his food, which he thought he had digested earlier, spilled out him. The first wave of nausea was gone so he wiped up what had gotten on the seat with toilet paper and dropped it in. He lifted the seat. He had to stop thinking about them…them. The second wave came washing over him and anything that was left in his stomach was violently wretched out. He had to stop, he thought as he wiped the sweat which was dripping down his face and he noticed his hand was burning again. It burned everytime he did this. This wasn't going to help them, this wasn't going to bring them back. He knew it. He told himself that everytime he felt like this, but it still came. Faithfully, dutifully. And it came again, Van put his face back into the toilet, the putrid smell ruling his senses. He felt the stomach acid and blood being rejected from his body and then it finally stopped, and he flushed the toilet. He had to stop. Not feeling any better than when he was looking into the water filled basin Van washed his face, re-brushed his teeth and tried to drink some water. The water had other ideas, so he spit that out too. He realized he was shaking. Turning off the water angrily, he clicked off the T.V, and headed to bed.
As usual our beloved, good-looking, brooding and serious young man, who would swear he had ulcers by now, left this reality and fell into the world of haunting memories. Our peculiar Mr. Van Fanel, was finally asleep.
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Hitomi watched the stars up above and traced the constellations in her mind, the "Big Dipper", and the "Little Dipper", Orion, and the Virgo. When she was younger she had wanted to dance up in the sky with the stars twinkling around her. That was her dream, and every night she wished on a star that one day she'd be up there with them and they'd have the time of their lives. Back when she was younger…back when she didn't know that by the time a star's light reached you it had already burned out, back when parents didn't argue as much. Back when she laughed more, back when people were friendlier. Life is full of innocence and "back when's". Funny when you were older reality seems to snatch away all your dreams, all of you innocence. So gazing at a star Hitomi did something she hadn't done in a long time, "Star light, star bright I wish I may, I wish I might… Stars I'm going to ask, that, if there's someone wishing to dance up there with you one day that they will get their chance. And stars don't let reality take away their hopes and dreams. Stars let their wishes come true. Oh and God, since you're up there too, can you make the stars burn brighter, and teach someone to hope as well." Then the naïve yet no longer innocent Hitomi Kanzaki hopped into bed, not knowing that someone who was going affect her life in a very serious way, was holding on to their last hope, wanting for someone to wish on the stars for them. But Hitomi didn't know about that…all she knew was that she wanted her parents to keep their voices down. They were going to bother the neighbours.
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Labour Day was in full swing, people were barbequing, kids were swimming, or running through the sandy beach playing Frisbee, and Van, well Van was being Van stretched out on the itchy green grass thinking. He was watching Merle and Jenny on the beach while Balgus was barbequing hamburgers, just like every other family. Merle had come over in white polka-dotted, black striped halter sundress, and asked him if he "wanted to join her and her mother on this regrettably not so sunny day for a glorious game of Frisbee"—her speech was one more eccentricity he would have to add the list of that Merle was. He would have accepted too, if he hadn't spent his second night there with his face stuck in a toilet bowl. So he told her he would have loved to, (he really would of just to make her happy) but he didn't feel too good so he would have to lie there instead. Merle smiled her enchanting smile and said that he'd feel better by them time dinner was ready. He nodded and watched her form bounce away. It was best he distanced himself from her anyways.
He looked back at Balgus, he really should be helping the monstrosity of a man, but whenever he thought about food as a whole, his stomach fluids seemed to slosh back and forth. He wondered abstractedly if that's what it felt like to be pregnant. His mother was pregnant. He would have been an older brother. Perhaps to a boy who would grate his nerves, who he would give advice to, who he would teach how to protect himself. They would play fight and argue all the time, but when worse came to worse they would defend eachother to the death. They would bleed for eachother, always be there for one another.
Or maybe he would have a baby sister; they would tease eachother all the time. She would spy on him with her friends, and he would steal her Barbie dolls. He would teach her how to dance, he would teach how to punch and kick just incase some guy decided to get fresh. He would kill any man who touched her below the neck. He would defend her dignity; he would always catch her when she fell. He would make her husband nervous. He would tickle her till she wet her pants, and then spin her around till they both fell down. And each time she needed a hero to hug her and wipe away tears; he would be there in a flash. After all, that's what big brother's were for. To annoy and be there for you, no matter what.
Sadly that dream had been run over by a bus, after shattering into a thousand pieces. Actually it was burned to a crisp. Okay, slow down kids. 'Slow down, breathe. Breathe dumbass! Breathe and don't think. Don't you dare take a step towards that bathroom.' He instructed himself. He had had a good breakfast, and he wasn't planning on becoming bulimic, he liked his food to stay just where it was thank you very much.
He had to find something to do, focus his attention on something else. He had to stop thinking about what could've been or else he would be puking every five minutes. They say idle hands make trouble, so he had to find some activity to do, something that would also make him tired enough for him to fall into a deep sleep tonight. Swimming. Swimming by himself, swimming with Merle (ooh that would be nice), swimming with Jenny, he didn't care. He just needed to swim. Van pushed himself off the floor, not a good thing to do when you're queasy. Steadying himself Van raced into the water, clothes and all. He had a change of clothes in the "family van" anyways.
"Hey Van, I thought you weren't feeling good," called Merle.
"I'm not, but if I swim I will," he hollered back.
"Well don't end up sick in the water," Merle warned.
"I won't," he notified then dove under into the refreshing clear liquid.
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Hitomi glanced at the sky, it was particularly gray for a Labour Day afternoon. "The weather man said it was going to be sunny today," she whined.
"Hitomi darling, the weather man gets paid to make an educated guess," observed her mother, tucking the strand of cocoa coloured hair that blown out from behind her small ears, back into its place. The two continued to stroll down the sidewalk in what looked like perfect peace, but both were struggling to find a topic which they discuss so that it wouldn't even divert to the second huge fight that Ira Kanzaki and her husband had had that day. "Do you think you're prepared for school?" she asked finally finding an okay subject.
"As prepared as I'll ever be, I have to apply for college or university this year," reported Hitomi shuffling along at her mother's pace. She was planning to work with troubled teens. Maybe even become a psychologist. When she was younger she had wanted to be a dance teacher, but that wasn't a sensible ambition according to her parents. So she had opted for the next best thing, at least according to her. Furthermore, if she was really good at what she did, she could write a bunch of self help books for teens and possibly help a few them while she was doing her job. Maybe, instead of having them on a steady flow of Prozac and Ritalin, she could actually help them with whatever problems they were having. Such as being misunderstood, or having horrible communication skills, or they didn't fit in, or perhaps their life is being dictated by two angry parents who couldn't control their tempers. Problems she understood, exceptionally well.
"Well darling in case I don't see you tomorrow morning because I have to go in early, good luck and do well," Ira Kanzaki offered.
"Thanks mom," Hitomi replied appreciatively.
"Now, where's your brother?" she questioned good naturedly.
"He's with dad," Hitomi imparted, looking at her mother warily.
"Oh," was all she muttered, but that "oh" was so full of meaning…
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Merle watched her "brother" splash through the water. He had been in there for over an hour, going back and forth like some lost fish that was desperately trying to find his way home.
Van Fanel. An interesting name for an equally interesting person. She remembered the first time she had saw him. He was standing, five foot ten of drool worthy hotness, in a scarlet red sweater and baggy blue jeans. But his clothes wasn't what had caught her attention. It was his face. Hard, chiseled, jawline, perfect almost heart shaped lips which naturally turned down made him look like he was constantly musing over something (which he was). High cheekbones that would give Johnny Depp a run for his money, and the most peculiar lopsided grin that would drive any girl into insanity, made him so endearing. However it wasn't those features that had captured her heart. It wasn't even his full hair which flew by on dark ebony wisps that had taken her. It was the very thing that that unruly mop covered, his eyes. His eyes were the most unusual, mesmerizing, enchanting things she had ever seen in all of her fifteen years. They looked like Hershey kisses mixed with strawberries then dipped in hot fudge. Like the Sahara deserts setting sun, mixed in with every chocolate goodie one could ever buy. And it wasn't only their colour which caught her by surprise, it was the personality she saw in them. Serious, and humorous, fiercely loyal, and protective, kind, stubborn, and utterly enigmatic Van had stolen her heart. The heart she so carefully guarded. She didn't even know how it happened. But that was okay, his beauty wouldn't be accepted by all, so she didn't have to worry about his heart being taken. Van was protective, and she knew Van would protect her heart with his life.
"Do you suppose we should remove the fish from the water, before he actually catches a cold?" queried Merle after her moment of reminiscing.
"Go ahead love, I'll set up the table," responded her mother dusting the sand from her small form. She pulled the red and white checkered plastic table cloth from the cooler bag, and spread it over the wooden picnic table. Pulling out other miscellaneous things and condiments, Jenny spread them out in an orderly fashion over the table.
"VAN!HEY VAN!" screamed Merle over the peace that had settled across the lake. When he looked up (he heard her while he was still halfway underwater) she waved her hand for him to come in to shore. For seeming so quiet, Merle had a vocal range that could match her adoptive father's. Upon arriving on shore Merle watched as Van's black shirt clung to his shaped abdomen in wonderment. He had the greatest physique in the world, lean (more like stick thin) but strong. The type that took a good eye to notice. A good eye like Merle's. "Well I'm glad you worked so hard out there. Such a workout is sure to bring out a hefty appetite, and we, being the hard working cooks that we are, are certain that you will be filled to the brim."
Van gave her his lopsided grin, and said that he was sure that whatever they cooked would cure his hunger, and followed Merle up the bank to their table. Jenny Hoshino gathered her little family around the table and told her husband to say grace, "Thank you God for…" Van was bowed his head respectively and swallowed his stomach's discomfort. It was the exact same prayer his father had religiously recited every night before dinner. The same prayer he said that night: Thank you God for food, family, and friendship. Keep us always mindful of those who have less than we, we ask this in Jesus' name. Amen. 'Forget the prayer', he told himself, 'tonight you're going to have one solid meal, and have at least seven hours of rest because tomorrow is school and you have to be able to think straight. Do it for them. Them. Oh God…'
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Her father had always been sort of a hopeless romantic, so had her mother, it was the reason he had moved here in the first place. She peered at the street signs that were lining the gray sidewalk, and the ten acre estates. Passing by the pearly white mansions with their winding driveways, and big statues, she felt a bit nostalgic, like she was back in Asturia again. Which was sort of stupid, but she couldn't help it if it reminded her of home.
Turning left she finally found it, asking Anthony, her father's butler to open the mechanical black iron gates, she drove her Hummer past the white limestone lion statues her father had imported from some foreign country, past the sprinklers, which were wetting the freshly trimmed grass. She drove past the willow trees, whose gently blowing leaves were going to start to change colour, past the way to the garage, all the way up to the front steps.
Grabbing two of her suitcases and her purse, she lugged less than a tenth of her baggage up the long stairs, and flung her lengthy, rippling lemony blonde wave behind her neck. She was so tired. She had been driving for five hours, and as soon as she entered this house she was going to take a hot shower and not wake up for school tomorrow. So preparing herself once again she rang the doorbell with a strained hand.
Anthony opened the door like the true butler he was, making himself disappear behind the wide, blindingly white painted door. She regained her strength and took a few steps in. "Daddy I'm home," she called out to her father.
"Millerna Sara Ashton, what are you doing here?" demanded her father, his looming presence coming out of the shadows. So much for a warm welcome, Millerna thought.
"Well my precious nanny told me to leave so I left, and now I'm here," Millerna proceeded in telling him while she dragged the luggage she had in hands toward the winding staircase.
"Why did she tell you to leave? What happened Millerna? What did you do Millerna?" he interrogated calling someone to help her with her baggage.
"What did I do? Christ Dad, I'm not always guilty. You should ask her what she did. I'm safer here than I was in that house, so you should be glad I'm here instead of there," she quarrelled exasperatedly. "But when you do call her and ask her what she's done, and she blames everything on me, I want you to know I refuse to go back to that house."
"What happened Millerna?" he persisted.
"Dad I'm tired, I just drove for five hours straight. Just ask her what went on. I'm going to take a shower, and go to bed. Good night Dad," Millerna retorted, then as an after thought she called to her father, "Tell Anthony to put the Hummer into the garage please Dad, the keys are still in the ignition."
"Millerna you do remember that school is tomorrow, how are we going to get you to enroll by then?"
"I don't know," she shrugged then disappeared into her bedroom.
Her father looked at her bedroom door and let out a heavy, weary, sigh. Daughters. Sometimes he wished he had sons, they seemed so much easier to raise. But right now he had a couple calls to make, and call in a few favours. He shook his head at the thought of all the talking he suddenly had to do. Women.
Thanx for reading and remember kids, REVIEW! I would appreciate some constructive criticism and flames...if necessary sighs...will be allowed. But be nice in a squeaky voice. JA NE! i luv those things aren't they just so cuuute!> ahem