XIII. Stuck
"Consistently he's been my knight in shining armor..."
I have to be dead. I know I'm dead. Why else am I seeing my mother in the living room of our house?
I opened the front door and see her sitting in the family room with a cigarette in her mouth. It's raining outside, but my yellow raincoat served its purpose of keeping me dry, even though I hate it. Hate it with a passion. I can dodge the rain, but not the taunts from my classmates. But dad was persistent. Mom didn't seem to care if I went out in a swimsuit, but dad threatened to take away my allowance money, so I wore it.
Dammit. I know this scene: it's happened before. I'm not dead!
I'm ten years old as I walk in on mom watching the news, smoking a cigarette for the the first time ever. She doesn't look up as I stand beside her and look at our large T.V. There's media footage covering some school in Littleton, Colorado. I'm transfixed on the screen, watching the school from a bird's eye view, which is surrounded by several police cars and paramedic vans. The captions under the screen send chills crawling down my spine. I can't recall what it said exactly, but...there was a shooting? More than one person involved? Are they students there? All of these are ambiguous to the networks who are covering footage of the school named Columbine. There are students walking out of the school in a line, all with their hands behind their heads as the S.W.A.T. Team escorts them out. There's more footage of kids and parents embracing each other, weeping.
"Mom..." I say softly. "You're home early." I continue to face the television.
She doesn't look up either. Vince, fourteen, comes into the living room with a bag of Lays', which would cost him a hell of a scolding from mom, but even this doesn't break her gaze. "Mom, you're still watching that?" He sounds irritated, his voice indicating that he's in the beginning of puberty.
Still no words come out of her. Suddenly, hand trembling, she flicks out her cigarette on the nearby astray on the table beside her; grabs both Vince and me; and holds us close on either side.
I never forget the words she utters before she falls silent again:
"I'm glad our family isn't broken."
Later I realize that she was referring to the parents of the children who were killed in the tragedy. The "broken families" she called them. The irony in that statement is overwhelming. I look over at Vince, and he stares back at me with a head shake. Don't ask, is what he's communicating.
So I don't. I lean my head against mom's, and Vince leans his head against mine.
The instant I open my eyes, I find myself in darkness. In the next moment, an excruciating pain aches throughout my entire body. Nope, I'm very much alive. It feels like I've been hit by a car. If I know anything about death, it's not supposed to hurt. I close my eyes and listen to the sounds around me.
I'm lying down on my back with rain pattering me from above. From way up above. I stare at the faint light from the sky down from this hole of blackness that I've fallen into. What a drop! That has to be at least ten feet.
I gasp as I feel something moving across my legs from down below, like...paws. Very, very slowly, I sit up, grunting like I'm ninety two years old.
Rats. Literally: there are two huge rats crawling over my rain boots. Their silhouettes are enough to make them appear menacing.
"I didn't mean to crash into your home." I say. "It was well hidden." Yeah, I'm out of it: crazy Vivian here is talking to a couple of rats. I put my hand to the back of my head and whimper. Man, that hurts! I've found the source of my pain. It's no wonder I had that flashback; I knocked myself out falling down here.
Where am I? Inside a well? A sewer? The only two things I can gather waking up with water and rats. The rain comes down harder and I begin to think. Okay, I remember falling straight down, and the last thing I saw was Rick rushing towards me—
I freeze. Rick! What happened to him? Has he gone to get help or something? Tornado sirens come alive, and I shudder. I should be alright down in this hole, right? Can I call someone from down here? I try and keep my thoughts focused on anything but the sirens. It's all I can do as I get pelted with fat rain drops falling so rapidly that it's beginning to hurt me. There's a shallow pool starting to form around the base of this...well that I'm sitting in. I stare up above at the opening that gives me a view of the dark blue sky. That has to be some ten feet high at least! It must mean that I'm inside a well. Every drop of rain sounds like a pebble as it hits the sleek walls which are too steep and slippery for me to just climb my way out. I need to rely on someone else to rescue me, or I'm rat bait. Pun intended.
"Eeek!" The rats are getting restless as they move on my lap. Just by the dampest of light from above can I tell that one of the two rats has something in its mouth that looks like a notebook paper. It's probably getting soggy by the second, but it looks fresh. With a jolt, Rick comes to mind, and my heart skips a beat.
"Would you pick a place and sit still?" I grab the rat with the paper by the tail as he starts to crawl up to my chest. "And preferably not there? Ouch!" One of his claws rakes across one of my boobs, fortunately covered by my raincoat. I snatch the paper from his mouth and set him down on the floor beside me. "Dumb rat." I mutter, then chuckle at myself. Yep: I'm touching a rat that I have no clue where it has been.
Clumps of grass and dirt spray me from up above, and I shriek, covering my face with my arms. Another clump of dirt showers me directly on my head down to my face, causing me to cough. Hey! I'm not dead! No need to bury me!
I look up cautiously, anticipating more, but nothing happens. From what I can see, no one's up there. I guess the wind is responsible for that. I spit out dirt when I notice that the sirens have died out. Sirens. Rick. Rick. "RICK!" I shout his name and wait for a reply. Nothing. I try again, standing up in the water that's now at my ankles.
"RIIIIIIIICK!"
He's gone to get help right? Of course he has! He isn't one to run away from a situation like this, right? I have no choice but to trust him. He or my cell phone, if the rain lightens up a bit.
"Ugh." I tilt my head down as it rains harder, soaking through the hood of my rain jacket and getting my hair damp. It's starting to hurt more the faster it comes down, and the pool of water around me rises slowly above my ankles. Suddenly I hear an extra down pour of water, and look behind to see that there's a hole in the well where water is rushing in. Dammit! Now the well's going to fill up faster!
So much for using my phone. It'll be damaged before I can press a single digit out in this rain. You want to live don't you? Mom's not ready to see you yet, and you're not ready to see her either.
I look down at the paper that I took from the rat, and flinch at a flash of lightning, but it provides enough light for me to see that my name is written on the paper. Well, I'll read it before the water completely destroys it. Hastily I unfold the paper and shield it from the rain with my head to the best of my ability. There's hand writing on this that I can't make out due to lack of light, so I pray for another flash of lightning.
Another one does come, and I catch the first line of the note:
Vivian,
I've gone to get help.
That's all I need to read. Rick should be returning with an ambulance or something! I can trust him. Consistently he's been my knight in shining armor ever since he came back to Degrassi, something that I've never had before. I've had zero luck with boys throughout school. From sixth grade to the middle of ninth grade, I went to school with a class clown named Andrew Watkins, who had the grace of nicknaming me "Vivi-Midget." Unfortunately, the name stuck. I still shudder at the memories of a giant boy tugging at my ponytails and tickling my tummy. Worst of all, he did the cliche of holding my books high above his head where I couldn't reach them. Those times weren't the most memorable, but then again it wasn't like I was interested in the selection of boys: all of them were too stupid, ignorant, or rude—including the upperclassmen boys.
Rick isn't one of those guys. For one: maturity. For second: maturity, and third: maturity again. It's a wonder, due to my history, that a guy is actually sweet to me! Sure, I've helped him out a few times, but that's only because he has helped me as well—just like he's going to save me now. I cradle his message close to my chest. Thank you, Rick. You've instilled a light in me after such a long period of darkness and grief. Who am I kidding here? I'm fond of this kid, this good kid, who has gone to get me help, even if it means leaving me out here alone. He'll be back. I kiss Rick's note and tuck it into my jacket.
One of the rats crawls up to my chest again. "Didn't I tell you no?" I pick up the rat by the tail and hold it away from my face. I can tell that it's kicking its forelegs around. I sigh. He's just avoiding drowning in the water. I roll my eyes and set him down on the rim of one of my rain boots. If you bite me, you're going in. I look up at the top of the well again. It's not raining as much anymore, and tornado sirens aren't sounding, but I can't find relief in this well. Now's the time to talk to someone on my phone.
Hastily, I dig into my pocket and whip out my cell phone. I flip the screen up to look at the monitor. Damn! I discover my battery is only at 10%. I can only make one call. Who should it be? It would be a great idea to call my dad: I hate the thought of him worried sick about me, but I decide that the persons to call is Rick: he saw me fall into this well, and that's probably the last time he saw me alive. He deserves to know that I'm not dead. I dial his number in less than two seconds.
"Pick up, Rick. Please." I beg out loud.
Rick's P.O.V.
A portion of my stress has been knocked off. I called Vivian's father to tell him the news concerning his daughter's condition. Telling Vivian's father about what happened to her was one of the most terrifying things I've had to do, second to telling my mother that I might have killed my girlfriend. Here I am sitting inside of my home, stuck here while Vivian is outside, just a few yards away, trapped inside the well. If I have learned anything about today's events, it's this: no one can make me feel like dirt. Not Spinner, Jay, Alex, Paige, Jimmy, and anyone else who tried to get rid of me at Degrassi. They don't know anything about anything about me, so their actions, their words are like tiny pokes in comparison to what happened today; what I did to Vivian. If she dies, it's my fault. I let her come with me; I put her in danger all because I was running away, like I always do.
My cell phone hasn't been charged, so I'm left waiting by my phone just in case Mr. Graham calls me. Mother's not home either, or I would have her wait to call Mr. Graham. I can't stop thinking about poor Vivian, and the image of her drowning is haunting me. Not Vivian: a living angel of all people!
In order to come to my senses, I walk into the bathroom and take off my glasses, setting them down on the sink. I stare at myself in the mirror. There I am with a long face and split hair; how it dries with no attempt to groom it. Unkempt in a nutshell. My physical appearance reflects the way I feel: like trash. I'm supposed to have changed through my therapeutic sessions and through counseling. I don't know who I am anymore. Even though I had serious anger issues last year and the year before, I knew who I was: the theater kid, but since my reputation as a psycho overbear-ed the minds of Degrassi students, my circle of people, who are all strange and unique just like me, have turned against me.
It's hard to believe that someone like me had friends to most people, but I did have a good friend. Jeff Bridges understood me on every level. I spoke in theater jargon, and he understood me without translation. He laughed at my jokes, which is something that I couldn't even get my past girlfriends to do. This morning when I tried to reconnect with the Thespian Troupe, in which Jeff is now the head member, they all pretended not to know who I am; it was as if I never joined the troupe at Grade 9. Jeff included. He claims that he never knew anyone who abused women, and would never be friends with the sort. Everyone who I encountered would at least acknowledge that they're disgusted with me and be honest, but to have a close friend or anyone tell you that you don't even know who they are and pretend like there was no relationship between you and him EVER is a stab in the heart. I had a good friend once, and now he's gone like the rest of the student body. Everyone except Toby. And even Queenie who didn't like me before: she never said anything, but I could tell by her body language in theater class that she didn't care for my attitude. Back then I couldn't see it, but now, with a level head on my shoulders, I do.
As soon as I hear another voice from the living room, I escape my thoughts. Who's there? I dash into the living room, and gasp as I hear a voice coming from my cell phone. Her voice.
"Hello, Rick? It's Vivian." My heart skips two beats. "I'm calling to tell you that I'm okay, but this well is filling with water, and I won't be able to last long. Please hurry."
There's a sudden chill in the air. Her voice sounds so shaky. She's probably frightened, and that's enough to frighten me.
I rush over to the phone and pick it up, staring out at the rain. "Vivian? Vivian!" I say. "Listen to me: I'm so sorry for leaving you out there all alone. Are you okay?"
"Rick!" She cries, and I can hear the rain coming down hard on the other end. "Please hurry, Rick. This storm's getting worse, and this well is filling up with water! I don't know how long I have." Her voice is quaking as if she's about to cry.
My heart's hammering in my chest. She's alive, but she'll drown if someone doesn't reach her soon. Stay calm. I think. I have to talk to her to keep her talking; to confirm that she's alright on the other end. "The weather is hitting Toronto hard. There's another storm heading this way." THAT'S supposed to calm her? "B-but thankfully not any tornadoes. Don't worry, Vivian. I'm right here. Keep talking to me." Hopefully I compensated enough from the latter.
I hear a gasp from Vivian. "You okay?" I ask again.
"I'm fine right now." She says. "So there's going to be more rain?"
"Yeah, unfortunately." I reply. "I've contacted your dad and an emergency crew. We're all coming to get you, okay?"
"How long will it take? This water's coming in fast..." Vivian's voice shakes again.
"It's okay. We'll be there soon." I have to be calm for Vivian's sake. "Keep talking to me. I thought you were...another Terri." The absolute worst day of my life happened the moment she fell and didn't get up. She was bleeding severely from the head—and I had done that to her. Thank god Vivian came to. I don't know what I would've done if she was in a coma...or dead.
"Good thing history didn't repeat itself, huh?" She sounds calmer now.
"It's a wonderful thing history didn't repeat itself." I reply.
"Ugh!" She squeaks on the other end. "Oh, you rats!"
"What?"
"You heard right!" Vivian responds. "They're just squeamish because of the rising water, but—AAAAAHHH!"
I hold the receiver away from my ears as Vivian screams at the top of her lungs. It reminds me of the sound of a helpless girl in a slasher movie getting stabbed; sharp, loud, and terrifying. It's as if my heart has been struck by lightning as it pounds quickly.
"Vivian, what happened? Are you alright?"
No reply. No connection.
"Vivian!"
The dial tone hums.
These next few seconds are all a blur. All I can recall is squeezing the phone in my hand. I don't remember throwing it at the front door; I don't remember when the door opened—with father on the other side; and I definitely don't remember it hitting him in the chest. It feels like I'm going to drop dead of a heart attack. For the first time in months, I lost my temper, and took it out on my father of all people.
The reaction on this man's face hardly registers. He just freezes, staring directly at me with the beady brown eyes I inherited.