Chapter Five
February 18, 1981
The morning was quiet and still, the sun just barely peeking above the horizon. Sequoias and oaks reflected the sunlight in a red hue as they stood like British soldiers along the gravel road Sara and Allen drove every morning. Hills rolled into the distance and the scents and sounds of the ocean hung lightly in the air. The whistles of the cormorants mingled with the squawks of the crows, and Sara listened to the birds as they interrupted the silence she and her father sat in. But the sounds made it seem ever the more peaceful.
Their Chevy slowed to a halt at the stop sign, crunching on gravel and disrupting the calm around them. Sara sat in the backseat, her head leaning softly against the window and her backpack on her lap. Today she was in a light blue t-shirt and a pair of white shorts. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and rested on her shoulders. Up front, Allen was in his business suit again, briefcase on the passenger seat beside him.
"Dad," Sara asked as the car started forward once more. "Is Mom going to be home from the hospital today?"
Allen replied gruffly, in a distracted tone. "Yeah, she will be. She's going to feel sore though, so you should give her some space."
Sara agreed to do so as Allen made a sudden right turn into her school parking lot.
The school was a small one, both in size and student body. There were only 200 or so students, from kindergarten to eighth grade. The building was a one-story building in the shape of an "L." There was no cafeteria—students were expected to eat in their classrooms or outside if the weather was nice, with their own bag lunches. The parking lot was shaped like a fan, the curved edge facing two ends of the road. One straight side faced the numerous picnic tables students sat at to eat, and the other faced the large playground.
The jungle gym, slides, monkey bars, and swings were all placed on a large square covered in gravel. Beyond the playground, there was a field of grass where older students played football and soccer. And beyond the field, there were trees that kids climbed and hid behind in hopes that the playground supervisors wouldn't find them.
Sara stepped out of the car and onto the grass. When she shut the door and waved, Allen drove off. She hoisted her backpack further onto her shoulder and walked off to the playground. Max Hall was out playing soccer with some other rowdy fifth-grade boys. A group of girls in Sara's grade sat on top of the monkey bars, sitting daintily like the princesses they thought themselves to be. The girls had started to talk about boys, except for Sara, who always kept to herself and rarely said anything if she wasn't in a classroom.
Sara sat down against the school building, setting her backpack on the ground beside her. She reached inside and pulled out a slightly tattered notebook and a pencil. Inside the notebook as she turned the page, was a long list of book titles, most of them with distinct checkmarks next to them. Sara took the pencil up and placed another mark next to the title Moby Dick.
She gazed at the page for a beat before a sigh escaped from her. The next book on the list was at the town library, and she wouldn't be able to go get it until after school. That meant math class would be spent with her dozing off as the teacher explained the same concepts over again, merely because most of the class couldn't figure out how to use a protractor. Then in language arts, Sara would again fail to write an imaginative short story.
Afterwards, Mr. Montgomery would read a dreary and boring book that Sara had already read two years earlier. Lunch would come, and Sara would sit alone at a picnic table, placidly watching other students crawling around on the playground and eating their lunches.
Finally after lunch, her favorite class of the day would come. Science. Recently they'd been working on a biome project. They were required to write down observations and diagrams of how the "Biome in a Bottle" worked together to provide life to all the insect specimens inside. Today they were going to release the creatures, and Sara was looking forward to it. The project had been enjoyable for her. She had relished the chance to satisfy some of her curiosity about certain insects and plants.
The school bell suddenly rang, and the supervisors blew their whistles to alert the students. Sara stood and, with the weight of a boring day ahead, began walking into the school building. A stampede of students ran behind her, and one seventh grader suddenly knocked her roughly against the wall of the building, without looking back. Sara rubbed her elbow, simmering noiselessly as she glared after the boy. It was going to be a long day.
"Now, remember," Mr. Montgomery drawled, gesturing at the chalkboard. "When you draw a right angle, you need to put that little square to show that it is a right angle."
Sara's head sat in her cupped hand as she stared straight ahead. Her math booklet was open in front of her, and she had successfully completed the page they were supposed to do in class that day as her teacher explained and explained again. She understood everything completely, and was becoming exasperated at the fact that the rest of the class failed to realize it.
She stared down at her paper as Mr. Montgomery continued. Her pencil was held loosely in her right hand and she slowly began to make little swirls in the booklet.
"Mr. Montgomery, how do you use a protractor again?" Meghan Berg asked, though she was more interested in how many times she could wrap a strand of hair around her pencil.
Good God, Sara thought to herself, trying to hold in a soft chuckle. How could people be so stupid?
Mr. Montgomery sighed, and ordered the class to pull out a blank sheet of paper. Sara did so, snapping out of her stupor to obey the nonnegotiable commands of a teacher. After the first example, Sara realized she already knew how to do it. Sighing, she flipped the page over. She doodled more swirls on the page, and before she knew it, she was thinking about the book she had just finished last night. The swirls turned into waves, and the waves soon merged with the back of a whale.
Five minutes later, the picture was complete, and Mr. Montgomery had finished talking about the use of protractors for the third time that week. He was now walking in front of the rows and handing sheets to the first person to pass back down the rows. When Sally Baker turned around with the sheets, she saw the sketch Sara had drawn and grimaced.
"What is that?"
Sara looked up from the sheet she had been given to the expression on Sally's face. Instantly her cheeks reddened and her stomach squirmed.
"It's just…just a doodle…"
"Doodle?" Sally repeated skeptically.
Sara hesitated to reply, and was saved from the trouble when Mr. Montgomery spoke.
"Sally, turn around," he commanded.
The girl rolled her eyes and faced the front of the classroom, but Sara couldn't help but fear the contents of a note Sally passed to Meghan a few minutes later. Her insides gave a particularly painful lurch when the girls struggled to hold back a fit of giggles, and were scolded by Mr. Montgomery.
Soon the bell that signaled the end of class rang, and the students headed out to their lockers. Sara opened her own and piled in her math binder and book. The picture she had drawn sat on the top of these materials and Sara stared it down before she grabbed it and, after crumpling it up, threw it in a trashcan. She snatched her things for language arts out of her locker and with a sigh, slammed the door to it.
On the way back to her classroom, she failed to notice Meghan and Sally sneaking over to the trash. They argued silently over who would reach inside, and with an annoyed eye-roll, Sally reached inside and pulled out the crumpled piece of paper.
Sara sat alone at a picnic table, her lunch spread out on the table in front of her, looking less than appetizing; a bruised apple, a bag of carrot sticks, and a soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She assumed Allen had been in a rush that morning and hadn't bothered to make sure she would actually eat her lunch.
Most of the other students had already wolfed down their lunches and were now swarming over the playground equipment. Sara watched them lightly as she nibbled halfheartedly on a carrot stick. She didn't hear the pair coming up behind her.
"Hey, Psych Ward."
Sara raised an eyebrow and turned around to see Meghan and Sally standing there, grinning evilly. When she saw who it was she retorted, "I'm surprised you even know that word. It's too bad you don't know how to use it yet."
"Ha, ha," Meghan replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
Sara kept eye contact, and asked, "What are you doing here?"
"We want to see how crazy you really are," Sally answered, smiling.
Sara sighed. "Well I'm afraid my mental state isn't that interesting. I'm not crazy at all."
"That's not what this picture says." Meghan held up the once crumpled piece of paper, now flattened, to Sara's face.
Sara blushed and suddenly felt a wave of awkwardness sweep into her stomach.
"I threw that away," she said quietly, reaching out to snatch it from Meghan, who pulled it out of her grasp.
"I wonder why…" Sally said sarcastically.
"Give it back."
"No, I don't think I will. I still have to show it to the rest of the class, you know." Meghan's tone of voice grated on Sara with every syllable.
"I don't see why something I drew makes me crazy," Sara muttered.
"Well, if you bothered to take a proper look at it, you would see that it's a whale. It's dead. It has a harpoon sticking out of its side. It's covered in blood. Does that sound like a normal drawing to you, Sally?"
The other girl shook her head, making small 'tsking' noises at Sara.
"Well," Meghan said as if she had just concluded important business. "I'm going to go show this around now, alright? Later, loser." She and Sally burst out in quiet snickers as they walked away, leaving Sara to sit there, simmering.
Sara watched them go for a few moments. The two of them walked off to talk to a couple of boys Sara knew, and they showed the picture to them. Sara was finding it harder and harder to restrain herself as the two showed it to more people. Finally, the two approached Max Hall, and Sara couldn't hold it in anymore. She stood up and stormed over to them.
"Give it back, right now," Sara said tightly, her teeth grit.
"Umm, didn't we already settle this?" Meghan said snobbishly. "No."
"Give it to me. Now."
Max looked at Sara uneasily as she glowered at Meghan and Sally, who were certainly not taking her seriously.
Meghan rolled her eyes and turned back to Max who slowly tore his eyes away from Sara's infuriated face. Meghan opened her mouth to speak, lifting the picture, but before she could, Sara swung out her leg and kicked the girl as hard as she could in the shin.
Meghan collapsed to the ground with a cry, and Sara stood there, trying to restrain her anger further. A year or so ago her mother had said never to hit people. So technically, she wasn't disobeying, right?
Meghan lay curled up on the ground, writhing in pain, clutching her lower leg. Sara grabbed the piece of paper on the grass that she had dropped and tore it up, tears burning her eyes. Suddenly, Sally leapt at her, grabbing her ponytail and bringing her to the ground. Sara struggled to fight back, unable to turn around and get off the grass because of the hold Sally had on her.
The next thing she knew, Max had launched himself at Sally, bringing her off of Sara. Sally scratched at his face and he simply held her down to the ground to prevent more damage to Sara. Sara staggered to her feet, but was knocked down again by a well-placed kick from Meghan. When she opened her watering eyes after landing, she saw a playground supervisor standing over her.
Sara felt fear climb into her stomach and she scrambled to stand, ignoring the pain shooting from her back and the throbbing in the back of her head where her hair had been pulled. She gulped down air and stood in front of the supervisor, looking only at the ground.
"Office, now," the woman ordered, not looking just at Sara, but at Meghan, Sally, and Max as well.
The sky was a gloomy gray when Sara got off the bus that afternoon. No weather could fit her mood better. She was old enough to walk home by herself now, and she began to do so, slowly trudging down Aberdeen. Her head still ached and her knees burned from when Sally tackled her to the ground.
Max suddenly walked up beside her, not saying a word. Sara mumbled a greeting to him, not making eye contact. They walked silently at first, but when they reached the row of stores, Max spoke up for the first time.
"That was sweet."
Sara looked up at him.
"What was?"
"When you kicked Meghan. That was sweet." He turned his permanent smirk towards her. "Totally cool."
Sara sighed. "I wish I hadn't."
"It was still sweet."
Sara chuckled despite herself. "I'm sorry I got you in trouble."
"You think I was just going to stand there while they beat you up?"
"They weren't going to beat me up," Sara defended.
"Yeah? Well you were doing a pretty good job of pounding Sally while she pulled your hair. Real good."
Sara didn't miss the sarcasm in his voice as she watched him. She noticed with a pang of guilt that his bottom lip was swollen and cut and he had long scratches down his face.
"What?" Max asked her, noticing she was staring at him.
"She scratched you good," Sara whispered.
"It only ticked me off because I couldn't get her back. I could only hold her down. Dad would kill me if I hit her."
"I'm scared of what my dad's going to do when he comes home…" Sara mumbled, looking at her feet as they stopped at the corner where they separated.
"Nah, he's cool. You won't get in too much trouble."
Sara shrugged, her stomach twisting. The principal had called their parents, and had caught her father at work. Sara knew he would be coming home angry. She wasn't sure how that was going to turn out, but she could take a good guess. It only made her feel worse though, since her mother had just gotten home from the hospital.
"I'll see you later, Max," Sara said quietly as she began to walk away.
"Yeah! Later, Psych Ward!"
Sara lay under the covers of her bed, curling up in a warm ball on the cool night, staring out at the softly pattering rain. Her bedside light was on and a book was open on the pillows beside her. She remembered only after she returned home that she was supposed to go pick up her book at the library. She was reading it now, but her mind was distracted.
Her father was late. Very late. It was nearing midnight, and she was growing increasingly nervous with each passing minute. Laura was sleeping on the couch downstairs and had been ever since Sara returned home. Sara knew it was from the painkillers she was taking. They always made her drowsy.
Sara turned the page, and glanced out the window as she did so. No cars. Another page turned a minute later, and she looked out again. No cars. It went on like this for what seemed like forever and as one o' clock neared, Sara drifted off.
Shouting. Lots of loud shouting from the first floor. Sara's eyes shot open, and as soon as she registered what was happening, she wished she hadn't. She noted that her bedside lamp was still on and she reached out and turned it off before pulling a pillow over her ears. This time it was her fault they were arguing. It was all her fault this time, and nobody could tell her otherwise because it wouldn't be true. A tear squeezed out of the side of her eye and she angrily ignored it.
She was intent on blocking out the words of the argument, but failed as her name was brought up.
"Sara needs to make friends!" she heard her dad shout.
"And I suppose that buying her a pet will help her with that?"
Sara blinked, her grip going slack on the pillow clamped over her head. Pet? She sat up in bed, and gingerly made her way over to the door. She twisted the knob open a crack and continued to listen.
"She'll take him for walks. It'll get her out of the house, and everybody loves dogs! They'll stop to talk to her!"
"But what about the guests?" her mother pleaded.
"Screw them! Sara is more important than the comfort of the damn B&B guests!"
Among the shouts, Sara could hear the yipping of something she could only assume was a dog. She left her room and tiptoed down the hallway to the stairway. She slowly made her way down them until she could see the scene below. Her mother was lying on the couch, a bottle of wine on the table beside her, next to an already used glass. Allen was standing at the door, with a blue leash in his hand. Sara followed the lead to a little brown puppy beside his feet.
"Dad?" she said nervously. "Are you mad at me?"
Allen and Laura turned their gazes to the stairs and Sara. The puppy looked up and as soon as he saw her, he stood and began to wag his little tail.
"Sara, what are you doing up?" Laura inquired in an irritated voice.
"I woke up when Dad came home," Sara explained quietly, clutching the stair railing as she looked down at them all.
Allen was reaching down to the lead tied to puppy's neck, and when he undid it, the chocolate lab rushed straight for Sara. It managed to get its tiny legs over the stairs and clamber up to Sara's bare feet. He sniffed her for what seemed like ten minutes before leaping up to her eagerly, his little tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth.
"Sara, let's go upstairs," Allen said, taking off his leather jacket and putting it on an armchair.
Sara's stomach squirmed, unsure of what was going to happen. As she turned to go upstairs, the little dog followed her, yipping at her heels. She struggled to make it to her room without tripping, and when she sat on her bed, the puppy hopped on with her. Allen stood in the doorway, watching Sara as she apprehensively scratched the dog behind its ears.
She looked up at him, gulping down more nerves.
"Umm…are—are you mad at me?" she asked, pulling her knees up to her chest as the puppy continued to pounce all over her.
Allen breathed out a sigh through his nose and meandered over to the bed. He sat down on the edge and let out another whoosh of air. The puppy galloped over to him and sat in his lap, licking his face.
"I'm not mad at you."
Sara set her head on her knees and wrapped her arms around them, staring at the puppy.
"I'm just disappointed that you would sink that low."
Her eyes fleeted the floor. Disappointment was worse than anger.
"Can I at least tell you my side in it?" Sara mumbled.
"No. It wouldn't matter, because it was still wrong." He looked at her sternly.
Sara agreed with a small nod. She paused, before she asked the question she'd been wondering for the past few minutes. "Why did you get a dog?" she asked softly, reaching out and petting the animal.
"Because I thought it would be good for you."
"Why?"
The puppy tilted its head at Sara, its eyes big with curiosity.
"Because you'll have to take him for a walk every day."
"Exercise?" Sara said incredulously. "I don't exactly need it…"
Allen sighed and scooted closer to Sara, slipping his shoes off onto the floor.
"So you can go out and meet people. You aren't going to make any friends just staying at home."
"I have friends," Sara defended, watching Allen as he adjusted Sara's pillow and set his head on it.
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
Sara hesitated, trying to think of somebody. There were the kids that came to the B&B, but they never stayed long and never contacted her after they left. "Max Hall," Sara said quietly, laying her head down next to his.
Allen raised an eyebrow incredulously.
"Max?"
Sara nodded. "He helped me fight off Sally today."
"He's a bad influence," Allen stated sternly.
"He's nice and funny," Sara retorted.
"I don't want you to talk to him."
"But he's the only friend I have!" Sara cried.
"That's what the dog is for."
Sara glared at him, though she looked away after a while, realizing she was being ridiculous. Max wasn't really her friend. He helped her out of a sticky situation. That was all.
"What's the puppy's name?" Sara inquired through a yawn, pulling the blankets over herself as she lay down.
"You get to name him."
Sara looked at the puppy that had abandoned the bed to sniff around her room.
"His name is…umm…" She struggled to come up with a name. She'd never had to name anything before. "Max."
Allen sighed, with the beginnings of a scolding imminent by the way he tensed.
"You said I could name him," Sara replied, looking at the little dog.
"Max it is, then," Allen said, closing his eyes, his head still resting on the soft pillow.
Sara looked at Max. The puppy looked at her with his head tilted again, his big brown eyes matching her own.
"Come here, Max," she whispered, patting the mattress.
He stood and wagged his tail, trotting over to her and hopping onto the bed beside her and Allen. Sara turned her face towards her father's, and Max wiggled his little body in between the two of them. She pet his head softly, her eyes heavy with needed sleep.
Laura stood quietly at the door to Sara's bedroom as her daughter fell asleep with her new dog and her father by her side. Laura sighed heavily, letting out a small smile as Max yawned and set his little head on Sara's slack hand. Things weren't all that bad sometimes, she supposed.