Friendship


She raised her hand like an Olympic runner after the gunshot. “I know the answer Mrs. Sheffield,” she enthusiastically said.
“Yes, Miss Mulsh, go ahead.” The teacher’s pen laid at the edge of her wrinkly lip from the suspense only possible from hearing the top student’s answer.
“James Randi, 1928?” She merrily replied.
“That is correct, good work! Just what one would expect from the Class President!” The teacher clapped her old hands slowly. Every clap made me feel sleepier, and sluggish. That question had saved us from a test next week though, and when the teacher’s lined face scrunched to a particular grin of pride, everyone cheered. I groaned and propped my head up with my palm. I would have done just fine on the test anyway.
Dull, just plain and regular. Everything felt too normal here. People came, and people went. They drove their cars, and they walked the streets. Students like people; machines learning to be mechanical and so like robots they did everything similar day in, and day out. I would puke to give a different flavor to this place, this school, its students, and her. If I held the internal clock of this city in my hands, I would open it up and put putty in the gears.
A single pin seemed to hold all of the pieces together, her. A literal Little Miss Perfect. Mulsh, or better known as Sarah, was that and more. For a ginger girl, Sarah’s face was not too pale and when she sat outside, I never saw her burn. Those thin orange eyebrows moved up and down on her clean skin, sliding effortlessly when she was mad, or sad. Her nose was small and cute, a single pair of wrinkles always appeared whenever she smiled. It was hard not to love such a girl, but I for one, had independence. I was different from the rest. Sarah Mulsh; I hate her.
“Hey!” Sarah called; her joyous bell of a voice rang like gongs in my head.
“Hello Sarah,” I groaned. Not even my locker provided me a haven from her. “What brings Miss Class President around today?” A small mirror in the back of my locker gave me a view of her, a perfect view to tell all I needed to know.
“You’re coming to Fencing today, right?” I looked at her through the mirror as I started packing up fourth period. Her hair was tied back with a black ribbon, and she had already changed into her bold red Gi-shirt.
“Don’t you mean Kendo?” I questioned, my eyebrow perking up as I looked at the mini-calendar in the back of my locker, “We just switched, remember?”
Slap!
She held it behind her back in just a way I would not see it with my mirror. The bamboo practice weapon stung when she tapped me on the head. Grasping my scalp, “Ow, what the heck!” I said. Other students were looking from their lockers now, and as I rubbed the ache away I turned to face her.
“A subordinate shouldn’t correct the Captain,” she crossed her arms and grinned.
“I’m your Deputy!” I defended, flinching when she put her hands behind her back again. Grumbling under my breath, I turned back around to my locker. She was just being stupid. How could she confuse the club’s new theme? The Club was relatively new for an extracurricular school activity. It was the one of the upperclassmen who broke the club originally from the Student Council, and while it was originally a Karate Club, that all changed quickly when Sarah Mulsh joined both the Council and then, the Club.
Clunk!
“Everyone agreed that you’d fill the role!” Sarah’s wooden toy was jabbed into the locker beside me. Most of the other students were used to seeing this, and paid us no mind until I lost my edge.
“…I don’t care,” I dryly mumbled. This definitely was not the best choice, as Sarah scowled and grabbed my shoulder. In a flash, I turned and slapped her hand away. “I never wanted to be put in that position in the first place!” I said. Sarah was as open-eyed and shocked as everyone standing around us. Millions of tiny spider legs were scaling up my back; I felt exposed. With a brief pause, I grabbed what I needed and started walking away from the sunned crowd.
“But it is expected of you,” I barely heard Sarah say as I exited the double doors.
When Sarah joined the Student Council, she moved around it very easily. Events and fundraisers became instant successes. It was not hard to see that she was after the Head Chair from day one, and then, after we had started school again after the fall break, she made Class President by a landslide. While the people were still the people, and the day bled seamless into another, she made them better almost immediately. Like a corporate takeover, Sarah then continued after the Martial Arts Club that was barely a few members strong.
I had thought of joining, for the exercise, but then Sarah came over one night and knocked me to the floor of my living room. She only grinned, “That’s the Captain of the Martial Arts Club’s special move.” The very next day she begged and pleaded and groaned and whined for me to join too. Sad to say it, it was a good idea. Even though I was never any good remembering specific techniques, I could think on my feet enough to inspire a few match-wins. Then, just as we got over twenty members, she decided to change it up. Between every week to every month, we alternated routines and activities. Once the month dedicated to sword-arts came up, I was shocked again by the similarities between us. A few match-wins became an almost unstoppable winning streak. The only person able to hold me back was Sarah, and then I was unanimously made her Deputy by the other Club Members.
“I’m home,” I greeted the empty school-side apartment. No one was home, again. It was not because Mom and Dad were at work this time, they were not off doing something, nor did I ever get home before then. As per family custom, I took off my shoes at the door and went to the dining room. Sitting on the lonely table in front of the large bay windows, were two picture frames and a small marble box.  It happened a while ago, not long after meeting Sarah. Father had an accident at work, and Mother was involved in a traffic accident a month later. The Full Moon was a natural page marker, its big white thumb highlighting both events of my life. It reminded me of the nights of both accidents. I was still alive though, and so I could not just give into it. Neither my folks, nor Sarah would ever let me willingly follow them to the grave.
The phone rang.
“Hello,” I yawned into the phone.
“What’s up?” Sarah hummed on the other end. I dropped my fork into my macaroni, grumbling something as I looked at the clock. It was seven, exactly after the second-hand had passed the large XII on the clock’s face. Sometimes I swore that she was watching me. If it was not a seven o’ clock knock on my door for school, it was the call on my phone to talk. Sarah started this habit after I had unfortunately gotten to know her better. Mr. Mulsh, the school’s superintendant, approved of me staying in the housing meant for older, non-minor, students. I only had to get good grades, and stay out of trouble. Like a clingy wool-sweater, Miss Perfect Class President-Captain-Chairman-of-Student-Council, made sure I did that and more.
We spoke on the phone for two hours, exactly, before she began to wrap it up. Trying to do the dishes, I held the phone between my ear and shoulder. “Wanna get together at the little ice cream shop next Tuesday?” I barely heard her say before avoiding an electrocution by phone in the water. The phone returned to my ear, suds adhering to it as I caught it inches from the water. “If we walk right after school, we can take the river-route rather than the train,” she positively pointed out.
“Whatever, sure,” I agreed, not thinking about the day she proposed.
“Awesome, but hey- gotta’ go now,” she hurriedly said, but quickly returned. “Good night!” I heard the receiver ring, but I followed up shortly with a click. The day had passed so quickly, and I had done so little, but tomorrow was just another day.
My locker was the gateway for my classes and the keeper of my books. It also seemed to be the best spot for Sarah to find me. “You know, for standing right behind me, you are really quiet today,” I commented, unable to see her through my locker mirror.
“Where were you?” she asked, but before I could answer she continued. “There were a lot of newbies at the Club yesterday, more than I could deal with! I had to cancel my Study Session and hold the Student Council meeting after to make up for it!” Sarah did not become upset very easily, and even now she was just annoyed. I had never seen her upset before, never a tear or red face; it was what I despised most.
“You somehow found time to call me last night, so you know where I was,” I argued back, finding it was difficult to pull a book free from the others. “I don’t do it because you want me to,” I got the book free and jammed it under my arm. “I go because I want to.” With that said, I headed to class.
Just another lesson, lecture, and learning exercise. Physics was a science class I could never wrap my head around. The entire math part involved in it was overwhelming. Sarah, as invading of my life as she was, constantly helped me study. Formulas and equations were really something else. It was like my brain had too much of it, and every day at noon until one o’ clock my left eye was the source of a blinding migraine. Only the one eye reacted this way to light, dark, open, or closed it did not matter, the socket straight back into my skull throbbed.
I could not even stare at the instructor for that whole hour-long period. A mere glance at my teacher’s face and it was as though a spiny hand had grasped my eye by the auxiliary nerve, pulled it from my head, and ran it across the texture surface of his old face. My eye watered when it looked at the smooth surface of the pen in my hand, and it burned as I focused on the little pieces of graphite inside. Without any other options; if I was not already asleep, I propped my head up by cupping my palm over my tormented ocular.
As the hour long agony drew to a close, it also meant the end of class. Mr. Allen; my Physics teacher, had successfully explained the formula to calculate gravity to the class without knocking a third of them out. My eye began to grow hot, as though I was sitting under a faucet of steaming water. Nothing was out of the ordinary. For a change, I had actually managed to write some notes this time, but it still was not enough to pass the test next week.
“Oh, yes, I do need to speak with you after class,” Mr. Allen said, pausing mid-lecture as he, once again, lost his train of thought. With one blood-shot eye, I looked up at the old teacher and nodded my head. In less than ten minutes from that moment, the class was abandoned and the hall was a constant source of muffled voices beyond the door.
“What is this about, Mr. Allen?” I curiously asked. He was erasing the board, fine grains of chalk wafted into the air with every pass of his arm, and my eye felt like it was burning. Never did a teacher have to talk to me about anything, Sarah always made sure of it, one way or another.
“Do you have access to allergy medication?” he asked, carefully setting an eraser down. Chalk dust rolled off his trousers in a thin cloud as he wiped it off of his hand. “I know that I am the only teacher in the building without a marker board, or an expensive budget-pushing hardware device, but that shouldn’t mean you suffer.” Mr. Allen turned around, pushing his silver frames up his nose.
“Suffer?” I questioned, I was so confused that even my irritated left eye squinted at him.
“You aren’t allergic to chalk dust?” At this point, Mr. Allen slowed his step as he moved towards his desk. Something about this seemed wrong, but I could not put my finger on it. Pulling a small copper key out of his pocket, Mr. Allen unlocked a drawer. “About how long have you been sick? I am no doctor, but if you gave pink eye to another student,” he said, slowly, as he dug around his desk. My eyes were darting around the room, as though looking for a way to escape this conversation. In the tick of the clock, I found it.
“E-excuse me, Mr. Allen, I am going to be late for next period,” I hastily lied, and with a twist of my body I was out the door. Immediately retreating to the first place I could find, I stood in front of the restroom mirror. “Geeze, Sarah couldn’t hit me hard enough to make a mark like this,” I commented about my eye. My left eye still had not recovered, and as I examined its new, dark-red color I could only sigh at its unsightliness. Even my eyelid was slightly swollen, with a sigh I leaned in close to the mirror to pull the bottom lid down a little. Very cautiously, I looked up towards the ceiling. With perfect timing, I cringed when it began to act up again. It was a miracle I did not start to yell. It was hurting on an entire level higher than in class, my lip even bled a little as I bit down upon it to keep quiet. Without forewarning, it stopped again, and I took a long rattled breath. Another look in the mirror revealed that the inflammation had gone down, but only a little.
It was about the time I was going to leave, before I really was late for next period that the sound of glass under my shoe brought me to stop. I turned away from the doorway, blinded by the bright florescent lights of the school’s hallway, and I looked back at the restroom. The bathroom was almost pitch black, the light coming in the window was nullified by an overgrown bush on the other side, but that was not the strange part. Even though my left eye was squinting, it had a great deal of low-light vision for just being in a lit environment. With ease, I looked up to the restroom light that was on a mere minute ago. It looked as though someone had hit it, or threw a rock up at it. The floor was almost completely covered by shards and chunks of glass. Confused and alarmed, I pivoted on my heel and got out.
I had only minutes to get to my class before I was late. There was plenty of time, but I couldn’t calm down. Something had me freaked out. The trip in and out of my locker happened so fast that I did not even bother putting away my books for physics. I could not run, I was blind in one eye from the lights, and I did not want to draw any more attention to myself. Every glance that passed me by felt like a fork scrapping over my skin. There were only the stragglers crawling to class left now, but their perplexed staring made me feel exposed and almost threatened.
The halls were soon empty, and not a single student was left amongst the walls and lockers. Custodians, with their dust mops and buckets, were in the middle of cleaning the floors. I had to calm down; there was no rush, after all Mrs. Sheffield did not take attendance until a few minutes after class had begun. My calves burned softly from the power-walking I had done, and I took notice of a small stack of tablets sitting alone on the waxed tiles. My suspicions proved accurate when I somehow brought myself to stop and kneel down for a better look.
“These are Sarah’s,” I said aloud. Sitting on the floor, with her name in crisp bold lines was Sarah Mulsh’s class supplies. “It isn’t like her to leave these behind.” Despite the delay in my trip, I casually walked into the noisy classroom and took a seat. The teacher came in, practically on my heels, after me. She carried an unnecessary armload of papers, binders, and a bag as she always did. Sarah, doing the usual pre-class overview in the book, did not even look up at me as I walked by and took my chair beside her. Since she was not paying attention, I laid the tablets on her desk without saying anything.
“Hm?” I heard her peep, finally looking up from the textbook. Obviously, with class starting, she was not going to thank me until later. To my surprise, she tried many times to say it with sign language throughout the period, but I just ignored her as well as I could and stared out the window. The restroom, talking with Mr. Allen, and the rest of this confusing world kept playing through my head. I could not stop thinking about it. “Are you listening to me?” Sarah said. She was standing in front of me, hands flat on my desk with her sling-style backpack only inches off the floor as it hung from her wrist.
I stared at her confused, “Did I fall asleep?”
“No, you psycho, you’ve been staring out the window all day!” She seemed a little annoyed, again.
“Sor,” I began to say, but I tightly closed my eyes as my head rung like buzzer. A white hot image of my bloodshot eye filled my thoughts for a split second.
“Are you okay?” Sarah asked, her tone taking a complete one-eighty degree turn. Her hand was on my shoulder now, and I looked up at her as though she suddenly appeared.
“Sorry, I’ve just been distracted lately is all,” I partially lied. Sarah’s concerns were obvious when she knelt beside my desk and propped her chin on it. Her sad face looking up at me was annoying, “What? I’m fine,” I tried to convince her.
“Sure? I mean, if you want to come over tonight and talk about stuff you know my parents won’t mind. Especially considering what today is,” she bit down on her tongue when my attention suddenly rushed in like an ocean wave at the beach.
“What is today?” I asked, or rather, snapped.
“The twenty fourth?” her head backed up cautiously to the very edge of my desk.
The twenty fourth? The moon is full today?” I quickly stood from my desk to the point my chair flew to the floor. Its sudden crash startled Sarah and she fell to the floor with a thud. “I’ll catch you later,” I said, catching all of my excitement and stuffing it back down.
“Hey!” Sarah yelled after me, finally getting off the floor. “I didn’t mean to!” she shouted after I had turned the corner. I was heading to my locker, and not a single person was left in the hall the slow me down. My locker opened, and then it closed, everything I had was left inside.
I had gone to the florist’s shop right after school. Mother enjoyed the small violet mountain laurels of the shop downtown, and father was always adding to a shell collection—which I added to last month. When I got home, my shoes came off, and I got the water ready in the vase. For several hours, I walked over again and again and presented myself before them. I told them everything about my day, as always, and what they have been missing. Eventually, the subject of my eye came up; I was fine and there was no reason to worry.
Hours continued to drag by until the sun itself was lured from its perch. Coming into my dark dining room with rays of white, brighter than my overhead light, a portion of tonight’s full moon shone in and across the shrine. Like before, my left eye saw through the shadows of the night as though the thin crack of white covered the entire floor. I was not going to cry. I would not be allowed to. I merely stared as hard as I could at those two picture frames until my eye began to softly ache again.
I could feel the smooth glass, the ornate curves and cracks as though my cranium was split open and someone was rubbing them against my brain. I remained glaring at the pictures, still leaving my eye’s vision upon them. When it happened, I did not even flinch or question it. The two picture frames rattled and tapped on the table at first, but when I finally blinked they fell over face-first. It sounded as though one had broken, but I did not stop—I left the house.
Something or someone had drawn me along, across parking lots, and through yards to Sarah’s house. The Mulsh residence was neither grand nor extremely expensive. It was decent, with a few carefully trimmed bushes and a short picket fence. Large with two well-laid stories and a sun room on top, they did live comfortably. What possessed me to seek Sarah out was beyond me, I was not sad.
“Oh, it’s you,” Sarah said after answering the door. She was still in her school uniform, minus the ridiculous v-neck sweater. “I was getting ready for bed, so just chill in the living room for a few, okay?” Sarah shouted down as she went upstairs to the bathroom. With care, I stepped onto the dark wood floor of the main hallway after removing my shoes. After a few minutes, I could hear the water from the upstairs shower as I lounged on the couch.
“What am I doing here?” I asked the blank TV screen, staring at my blurry reflection. “Tonight is just another night, just like any other.”
“Except you lost your mother on this day,” Sarah said from the doorway. She had a red towel wrapped around her head and pink cotton pajama pants on. After she flopped on the couch, she adjusted the strap of her tank top.
“That was fast,” I commented, retracting into my shell so her, normally cheerful, attitude wouldn’t slide under my skin.
“You’re welcome, besides, I figured I shouldn’t take long—having a guest and all,” she giggled.
Mreow!
“Hey Patch, how’s my kitty-buddy been?” Sarah spontaneously cooed when her large black cat hopped into my lap and rolled onto his back. Not amused, I ignored him. He was already purring, just lying in my lap, and his weird green left eye was begging me to pet him. Sarah fell for it first though, rubbing his stomach and making him even happier. Inevitably, I gave in and smiled—a little.
“I had forgotten you were still around, you elusive little fuzz ball,” I smiled a little more; Patch was pawing at my hand before he randomly ran off again. Sarah seemed to tense up following that, acting unusually quiet.
“Didn’t think you were going to come, after what I said before,” she spoke without looking at me.
“About what?” I asked.
“What do you mean, about what? I honestly thought I upset you, bringing up your folks so casually at school!” Sarah was practically standing on the couch.
“Not at all, I’m over it—remember?” I smiled, looking up at her.
“That’s right, you’re always reminding me,” Sarah stuck out her bottom lip as she slouched, defeated.
“Suppose that is just what friends are for,” I said, giving her a little push. Being comically dramatic, she fell over right onto her side and laid there laughing.
“You are right.” Sarah continued to lie there, staring at the ceiling. “Let’s go upstairs, just don’t hog the bed this time!” She scowled, getting up and going to the kitchen.
Sarah’s room was like a summary of our time knowing one another. Every shirt, picture, and award I had been around to see. Like the region’s arts tournament, back when Sarah first took over the Club. There was also the award she received for appreciation from the school. Pictures of various little places around town were pinned on the walls, and a large frame next to her mirror of the two of us. It was winter and I had lost my purple glove in the snow, but we still made a snowman. Coincidentally, it turned out the glove was rolled up into Mr. Frosty’s forehead like a snack cake.
“So what is bothering you,” she suddenly said, coming out of nowhere. After my heart fell back into my chest, I sat down and fell back onto the bed.
“It’s nothing, really,” I said, but I did not even convince myself. Sarah just gave me a look after she sat down and lay down beside me. “You are great at everything you do, and even though we are both involved with the same things—you are just better, right down to your home life. Where do you always find the time to reach down from your cloud to help me, Sarah?” It just flowed out of me, like the path of tears that escaped my right eye. I sniffed a little as I wiped them away, but more fell from it. “What have I done wrong? I don’t want what you have, or what you’ve accomplished. I accepted they’re dead even, but what purpose do I have around here now?” Sarah lay on her side, patiently listening to me vent. When I finished, she handed me a tissue.
“You do have a pur—what’s wrong with your eye? It’s all red,” she started to say, but with good reason she was pulled off topic. Sitting up quickly, I looked at the utterly pure red left eye. Instinctively, I covered it with my hand.
“I thought it was just chalk dust from Mr. Allen’s room, but it keeps throbbing,” I said, wiping my nose with my free hand.
“Can you still see okay?” Sarah asked, sitting up.
“Yeah, not so well in the light, but when it is dark,” she interrupted me.
“You sure it was Mr. Allen’s room?” she asked quickly.
“Of course, this happens every day around noon, but lately it’s been more and more, why?” I felt weird now, Sarah was acting bizarre.
“Oh, uh, nothing big; I can bring it up during the next meeting is all,” she said, settling down considerably.
The rest of the night was normal, we talked and laughed. The night became old quickly, and soon the full moon had disappeared long behind a cloudy night sky. We were both barely awake and falling asleep when I decided to go home. It was a school night after all, and Sarah needed the rest. On my way out the door though, she held me up long enough to give me some eye drops of her mother’s. Apparently the lady had the same problems with dust; Sarah told me that I should take it an hour before class to avoid problems. After thanking her, I went home and straight to bed.
Beep Beep Beep
I hit the alarm.
I realized my mistake too late as I began to feel bedsores across my ribs. I had overslept! Looking at the time, I had a half hour before the end of second period. In a flash I managed to shower and de-bed head my hair before stepping out with my black school sweater barely passed my shoulders and only one shoe tied. If I did not live in school lodging, it would not have been so bad, but it could not be much better either. A last second strip of apple strudel hung in my mouth as I got into the school half-dressed. I had only five minutes until the classes spilled out; I had to become decent—quick! That same restroom was my only chance.
The light was still completely wrecked, but at least the glass was picked up. Midday sun barely fell through, but it had to be enough—I could see what I needed to. Once I had fixed my outfit and finished my strudel, I almost walked out. “That’s right,” I said to myself, pausing mid-step. The purple eye drops Sarah had given me. I had less than an hour, but it should still work to some degree. Slowing down, I delicately applied three drops to my left eye. To my shock it released a cool burning sensation throughout the socket of my head, but I managed to resist rubbing my eye until it stopped. Staring at myself one last time in the mirror, I squinted hard; but I could not make out anything in the darkness now. “A cloud must have passed over the sun outside,” I concluded, and quickly hurried out to class.
“Okay everyone, before we get started, Michael Sunnt has something to announce.” Mr. Allen seemed strange today, but maybe it was because of my chat with him yesterday. I even felt a little different, as though something new was in the air around me.
“Good afternoon everyone, I’m Mike, and I am helping Student Council in recruiting members, we’re also looking for a new Class President from our grade right now,” Mike said, and I immediately bolted from my chair.
“What about Sarah?” I came forward and asked. People started looking at me as though I had come out of nowhere.
“Uh,” Mike paused, hesitating from the outburst until Mr. Allen gave him a wave of the hand to signal him to continue. “As I was saying, we’re taking candidates today and if you’re interested, come along with some good ideas for changes to be made for our school,” Mike concluded, walking back to his seat.
“We’re almost halfway through the school year, what happened to Sarah, you know—our standing President?” I continued, not dropping it despite Mr. Allen’s threatening stare.
“What, are you on drugs? I only know one Sarah, and she just applied, Sarah H. Leiha.” Mike scoffed, crossing his arms and looking away.
“No, you idiot, Sarah Mulsh!”
“I have no idea who you are talking about, and I’ve been on Student Council since before David graduated last year,” Mike continued. Vanquished, I sat in my chair puzzled. The window could not even entertain me now, but Physics was over before I knew it.
“Stay after class, again, please,” Mr. Allen growled as I gathered my books to leave.
“Yes, Mr. Allen?” I distractedly replied. Standing in front of his desk, I was still thinking about Sarah.
“Apart from your very rude outburst today, how are you feeling? Did you take some medication? Your eye is very clear today,” he asked.
“Oh? Yes sir, I got some meds from the nurse this morning. I feel a lot better,” I partially lied. Sarah’s drops, whatever the purple stuff was, made my eye burn coolly even though it still throbbed around twelve, but it was tolerable now.
“Good, now get moving along, wouldn’t want you to be tardy,” he advised. If the students did not remember Sarah, there was no way the teachers would. There was no other choice; I walked as fast as I could to the next class. Maybe she was there.
Mrs. Sheffield’s class, the only one I shared with her. For what felt like hours, I stared at the empty desk beside me. Several times during the lesson I tried to ask other students where she had gone, or if maybe she was sick, but no one knew a Sarah Mulsh. I racked my brain, dragged my nails across my scalp, and through my hair. What was going on, where was she? I was running out of options, and class had already entered one ear and flew out the other.
They were holding Student Council Auditions and Class President Applications in the auditorium. Sarah had to be involved if it was running smoothly, especially since Mike was no good at dealing with people. “Okay, okay, back up! Enough, enough!” I heard Mike yelling. His weakest trait was dealing with people, especially confused masses. Mike became overwhelmed easily, and so he’d rather follow given tasks than make them. Without a President, or rather without Sarah’s guidance, the stage was overloaded and pushing its limits with people. A third of the crowd clustered around a pair of people saying Student Council meeting times and places. This was the crowd trying to decide whether or not to join Student Council. The other side had a lonely girl trying to hand out papers for Class President Applications. Both sides were swarmed like a Wall Street takeover, with the other handful of Student Council members scattered in the masses trying to control it.
“Hey Michael!” I shouted, barely audible over the crowds of people.
“What? Oh, it’s you,” he somehow managed to reply, practically pushing people away so he could breathe. “Look, I’m real sorry I don’t know your friend, but as you can see I am very busy right now. No, over there! For the twenty-second time!” he yelled back.
“Need a hand?”  I offered.
“Break a leg!” Mike said before he began to sink beneath the crowd again.
Looking around on the tips of my toes I had to crouched and navigate between the legs to maneuver myself to the edge of the stage to find a traffic cone. It was a prop to the school’s last musical, almost singlehandedly made possible by Sarah. I was not afraid. I needed to find Sarah but I had to clean up the chaos in her wake first. Slowly, I drew a deep breath and then yelled through the cone at the top of my lungs, “Stop!”
It took nearly forty minutes, but when I was done I had assigned more members to handle Presidential Applications, and a couple to aid in gathering the inquisitive new members. There were lines, and everything was running smoothly. Mike even got the suitable job of keeping people in their lines.
“Phenomenal work on saving our butts back there,” one of the Student Council Secretaries said, fixing her steamy glasses.
“It wasn’t anything special,” I humbly replied, only doing what I had seen Sarah do at least once at every school function.
“I got one left, you want it?” the Secretary asked. Holding out an application, I took it without thinking. “Just remember, the time of your class speech and Student Council review are on the bottom,” she said, turning away and disappearing before I could ask about Sarah. It did not matter who I asked though. Not a single soul in the entire auditorium knew that name.
By chance, I wandered through my fog of confusion to the gymnasium. The familiar sounds of Kendo brought me out of my trance. When I wandered in though, my jaw dropped. Guidelines, set by Sarah to keep people from hurting themselves, were not being enforced now that she was gone. Injured from horseplay, several students were bleeding from the mouth as they did not wear mouth guards. Some of the guys were even showing off, having a mini tournament without protective gear or restraint. Their shirtless upper bodies unattractively ranged from flabby to ripped, marked with anything from big bruises or welts from the bamboo sticks. It was not even this bad under the original Captain! These guys would not just stop because I yelled at them though; they needed sense knocked into them.
Absentmindedly, I covered my left eye as I resisted picking up a bamboo stick right there and going berserk. Somehow I managed to keep my cool, and without any wearing any gear I played games with the boys. Sarah was the only one able to stop me because I could not see her moves coming. They might as well have been wearing neon lights explaining every step they were about to do. Their every move was sloppy, and I could pick them out easily. Pushing the Club’s allotted after school time; I beat every guy and girl in the Club before finally leaving the school without a mark. I was far from done though; I still had one place to check. I still had yet to check her house…she had to be there.
Everything was unfamiliar now that the very existence of Sarah Mulsh seemed to be wiped clean from it. I never realized how broad her achievements were, so broad that I could not use them to identify her, or remind others. I refused to give up and accept that she did not exist; she had done so much, so much for me. It was like she spent every minute we were together trying to make up for something horrible.
“What?” I gasped, standing in front of Sarah’s house, or at least what I thought was her house. It could not be the same comfortable home I had been in hundreds of times before, no; I would not accept it either. The hissing, frozen gas of truth chilled me to the bone. It was her house; the shattered windows, a collapsed roof, a door that barely groaned on its hinges and my shattered wooden fence that was laid around my hope.
As though my legs were dead, I took one messy step after another across the yard. Growing within arm’s reach of the door, I extended my hand to push the wooden barrier away. Instant pain seized my eye, and I covered it with my hand immediately. I was not going to stop, I needed to know, I had to know, and I had to see it for myself. A mere touch on the door sent it crying to the dirty floor beyond it. When it struck and lay flat where it lay, there were no dirt clouds, no second skin of dust scattered into the air. For an abandoned house, the floor was cleaner than it should have been. At first this tickled me, but then I rushed inside and looked at the living room
There were walking paths paired across the floor. The dusty layers had been disturbed by someone walking around on it, recently. Footprints, from the floor being walked a dozen different times, lead to the familiar couch. A filthy gray sheet covered it up from the elements. I did not care if I knew there was something living in the couch, or if something was growing on it, I seized that sheet and tore it from the furniture. Again, there was no dust or dirt to fly from the sheet. It was wet, from the water pouring in from the ceiling last night. My hand parted from my eye socket. The moment my gaze fell onto the couch, a painful image of last night flushed into my mind. Quickly, I covered my eye again, and turned back to the front door.
Thud, Thud, Thud
Footsteps on the stairs! I did not care if I was crippled by the flash of these images from my eye. When I flew over the door, I grabbed the stair rail to stop my momentum, the wood was cracked under the stairs but I did not care. “Sarah?” I called the shadows above. Again, my eye pulsed with another painful image, but I could not tell if they were mourning memories or if I was seeing something that was not there. My foot laid on the first step, and when the next pulse hit me I kept my eyes open. The room, for a few seconds, was filled with warm light.
On a set pattern, every few seconds brought another dull ache, but with it was another vision. Flower wallpaper on the walls faded in and out, a small light sitting innocently above the stairs popped in and out of existence. The last few steps before the top of the stairs were barely whole, but when I passed over them in the middle of a vision—I barely heard them groan from my weight. There was only one room I was interested in, Sarah’s. The pain as my left eye made vision after vision was barely noticeable at this point, and as I stood in the calming darkness before Sarah’s room I hesitated to open the door and see it for myself.
I pushed the door, carefully. “Sarah?” I pointlessly called out. Luckily, this door did not collapse at my touch. The air was cold and the goose bumps from the rogue breeze were the same as my heart; tightening up to defend itself. It opened, inch by precious inch, and for every creak it spent along the hinges’ trails I could think of one other time I had opened that very door. Those memories were too thin to absorb the blow, held too close to my heart, that when the truth hit, it kept going straight through and struck me hard.
Sarah’s old room, once warm and apple red, was anything but now. Through the darkness of the night, my left eye cut, its visual knife stabbing out at the shattered floor resting beneath the gaping window above it. The room had almost no ceiling left, it had all fallen through or worse it lay across what was barely still a floor. Sarah truly was gone, and with nothing left behind, did she actually exist? My hair fell down around my face after I had fallen to the floor. The weight of what I felt was too much, too much, and as I held my hand over my eye, I let the darkness take it all away. When there was nothing to see, there was nothing to feel sorry for, but there was plenty to be angry about.
My own failure to acknowledge Sarah’s help ran embers up my back. The possibility that Sarah did not exist was so impossible, so unfathomable it strained my heart. Conflicts, like small bombs, were detonating all across my body. I closed my eyes tightly, clenched my teeth, and yelled at the top of my lungs. When I opened my eyes, the door had slowly shut in my face. I felt a pressure from my rage behind my left eye; it shot like an unseen gun and ripped the door from the wall. The sound of the rusted metal breaking free, and falling through the condemned floor of Sarah’s room brought me to cover my head as chunks of wood sprayed through the air.
“Why does everything weird happen now, when it’s so pretty,” I mumbled. The tears were still fresh on my right cheek, but I did not wipe them away. The second day of the full moon, its slightly dulled edge felt like the wound throbbing in my head. I gazed upon the ghostly white circle until the last remains of day fell to night. At some point, I nodded off and I found myself waking up in Sarah’s doorway. My left eye had soon returned to acting up again, but I did not touch it.
With every pound of pain that run through my head, the darkness became alit by Sarah’s bedside lamp. Five seconds between flashes, I stood on my feet and used the doorframe for support. Something had caught my eye; grabbed its attention with a spotlight. A white piece of paper, the only clear thing I could make out in the vision, sat on the far wall by what used to be a window. I had to get closer if I was going to see it unfortunately.
I did not risk falling through the floor. Only during the brief few seconds where the vision was completely gone, did I take a single step. The only safe way around the empty, destroyed room was by side stepping the only solid part of the floor. Face to face with the wall, and spread out against it, I passed face to face with photos of Sarah and me, but I kept the feelings at bay. Suddenly, the floor gave out under my foot as another hallucination overtook my sight. A brief shriek and I fell back. My eye felt hot, but when I re-opened it I was laying on Sarah’s restored floor. As much as I wanted to remain on the warm carpet, this fantasy was not what I wanted.
There was no explaining how the room I remembered was suddenly under my feet. The only thing I could trust was what I could see. A thin white chalk circle drawn under the rug was partially exposed from when I fell. It gave off a dull silver glow even after I had gotten back on my feet. My skin was crawling, how a floor that was not whole enough to support a door, was suddenly real and perfect was too much. Ignoring the abnormally hot temperature of my eye, I immediately began to search, there was no telling how long this was going to last. I ran across the room, and nearly went straight into the wall. A calendar, perfect and white, rested on the soft apple wallpaper. Circled in blue highlighter, complete with a smiley face, was the first Tuesday of next month, the second. My breath was stolen away as a bold breeze cut through my illusion. The bright room was swallowed up by the darkness of the night again, but still remaining before my face was the calendar. It was clean, except for the blue marker, but it was real! That calendar was the only piece of Sarah here, or anywhere. I would have been stupid not to take it.
Rosianne’s Shoppe was a small building that was part of a kind old lady’s house that made home-made ice cream. Sarah brought me here for the first time to get us a couple of Rock Trail ice cream cones, after my mother’s funeral. The owner Rosianne, barely made enough to keep things running, but I had recently Okayed a project with her to host a fund raiser nearby. If the business did not jump after the other students discovered the location, especially with summer coming, nothing would.
“One small Rock Trail please, in a bowl,” I asked the nice old woman through her serving window. The sky was ribbed with stripes of clouds as far as I could see, but it was still warm. Late spring winds were gentle, and a smile slipped across my face as it blew over my face and hair.
“Didn’t order one for me?” childishly pouted a woman’s voice beside me at the picnic table. The plastic spoon nearly fell out of my mouth when I saw Sarah glancing over at me, less than a foot away. I was not overwhelmed though, I simply handed her the bowl and positioned myself to see her better. “Why, thank you stranger!” she joked, taking it from me and digging in. Sarah was not wearing the school uniform I always remembered her with. It was a cherry red dress that fell to her knees, with thin straps crossing over pale freckled shoulders and across her upper back. Easily hiding her face was a massive pink sunhat with a blue ribbon fluttering in the breeze on top. A dark pair of sunglasses hid her eyes perfectly from view. “Yah-know, I’m shocked you showed up, being as busy as you are,” she commented after a few quiet minutes.
“If I had forgotten you like everyone else, I probably wouldn’t have,” I said, but then I noticed the paper sticking out from under her rear. “What do you mean, exactly?”
“Well, registering for the Regional with the local Martial Arts Club, seizing Presidency of the junior class, and to top it off you’re Head of the Student Council now. Busy, busy, busy…” Sarah played, plucking up the school newspaper from underneath her seat.
“So, did you expect me to let everything you did fall apart when you suddenly disappeared?” I calmly asked.
Actually—I kinda did!” she laughed, and despite my angry face, I did too. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Sarah suddenly said, cutting the laughter in two with a less than happy tone.
“Feeling better?” I became confused.
“You really can be dense,” she teased. “You were sad for like, ever, but now look at you. I’m glad,” Sarah put the empty bowl and spoon down.
“Yeah, I guess you are right. Thanks Sarah, guess I really owe it to you,” I felt embarrassed as I finally said it, and we both shared a smile.
“Nope,” she suddenly rejected, standing up with a black umbrella suddenly appearing in her hand.
Still wearing a smile, I chased after her when she started strolling towards the road. “What do you mean, you’ve done everything for me,” I asked. Shivers ran up my spine; something felt wrong.
“Compared to what I’ve done, I still owe you so much more,” Sarah replied, her voice almost a whisper. “Unfortunately, you’ll soon figure it out before I can make it up to you, especially when it matures,” she continued, pausing for a car to zoom by the corner. Brashly, I reached out and forced her to turn around.
“Then why don’t you stick around, I need your help,” I pleaded, but Sarah merely smiled and gently pushed my hand away.
“…because you won’t be safe,” she said.
“Safe?” I reiterated.
“Trust me, if just for a little while more,” Sarah softly said, a weak smile trembling across her face. Slowly stepping back, into the road, I was too confused by Sarah’s change to keep within reach of her. She opened her umbrella, its thick black fabric blocking out the sun around her completely as she tilted her hat down to hide her frowning face. “Like you said, it’s what friends are for,” I heard her cry. The sound of a bus’ horn filled my ears, and I turned my head up the street.
“Sarah!” I yelled; she was what the bus was honking at! Broken from my trance I crouched down to burst into action. When I turned my head to her though, her face was revealed from under her hat. Sarah’s sunglasses had slipped down from the tears escaping her left eye. I was frozen stiff at the curb by the intense blue glow of her right eye, its sudden surge of light forcing me to recoil. My arms covered my face, the light was beyond intense, but then I heard the bus pass me by. I ran out into the middle of the empty road, barely able to see. Sarah was gone again.

I really hated her…