EQUILIBRIUM - BK 2 Portal Chronicles

by Imogen Rose

  What was I doing back here anyway? I knew that my mom wouldn’t have transported me back; after all, she had wanted me to stay. So who had? Who had captured Kellan and me, held us captive in the dark place and then transported me back here? And why? And where was Kellan?

  The tears started up again. I wanted the warmth of my family, of Kellan. I started picking clothes off the floor absentmindedly, folding them and making piles of them on my bed. Then I took the pile of t-shirts and went to put them into my dresser. I slid open a drawer to find it filled with empty chocolate wrappings, coke cans and gum. Some gum remains were stuck to the bottom of the drawer. I opened the rest. They were all the same, and I let go of my newly-folded pile of t-shirts from my arms, dropping them on the floor and then collapsing down beside them. Tears streamed down my face. I felt completely lost.

  I sat like that for about an hour, feeling totally sorry for myself, and must have dozed off. The doorbell woke me. I thought about ignoring it, but whoever it was, was persistent and wouldn’t give up.

  I opened the door to Monica, who looked furious, but her expression quickly changed as she looked me up and down. It was an interesting display of expressions–surprise, disgust, pity, more anger. She grabbed my arms roughly and pushed me into my bedroom.

  “Arizona Stevens, what the hell?”

  I shook my head, not knowing where to start. Tears started to pour down my face again.

  Monica looked shocked. She had never seen me cry before. She looked very uncomfortable, but reached over and patted my shoulders awkwardly. What I needed was a hug, but that was out of question. Even the fleeting touch of her pats was better than nothing. I looked at her gratefully, trying to suck in my emotions to make the tears stop.

  “Here,” she said, handing over a box of tissues.

  I took them and proceeded to sort myself out. I must have looked dreadful. Monica waited patiently while I gathered myself and then looked at me carefully before quizzing me again.

  “Arizona, what’s going on? What’s happened to your hair? It’s blond! And why are you so weepy?”

  “Monica, I can’t talk about this right now. I need time to think.”

  “Well, at least go and take a shower. You stink worse than usual.”

  I nodded and made my way toward the bathroom, flinching at the thought of having to shower in that mess. Monica was sitting on my bed, waiting for me, when I emerged looking and feeling slightly refreshed. I got dressed quickly; blow dried my hair and felt around for lip gloss in my jeans pocket.

  “What are you looking for?” Monica asked staring at me puzzled.

  “Lip gloss.”

  “Lip gloss?” she laughed, and extracted hers from her pocket and threw it at me. “You don’t use lip gloss,” she mocked.

  I ignored her, dabbed some onto my lips–kiwi–and then sat down beside her. She stood up and looked me up and down.

  “Wow, Arizona. You look like a model. What happened? Did your mom and Ella kidnap you and throw you into model school?” she laughed.

  “Oh, Monica, I don’t even know where to start. I’m starving. Let’s go and get some burgers.”

  “You’ve got hockey practice tonight, are you sure you’ve got time for burgers? Do you even want to eat before practice? You’ll throw up.”

  “Oh, I forgot. I’m going to text Coach to let him know that I’m not well.”

  “He’ll bench you,” Monica warned.

  So true. Coach could be a real pain. Missed practices meant being benched for the weekend game. The games were over anyway, if anything there would be a friendly. However, that was the least of my worries at the moment. So I shrugged and texted him. “Okay, M, I’m ready for a burger. Let’s head over to Sonic?”

  “Sure. Then we can sit and eat in the car and you can tell me about this new look. And why the hell you’re so weepy.”

  We drove up to the Kendall Park Sonic and sat in Monica’s Toyota happily devouring our burgers and sipping our drinks.

  “A, I’m going to have to drop you off and head over to lacrosse practice in a while. So, can you start spilling? Where have you been and what’s with the new look?”

  “M, pleeease–can we drop it for now? You’d never believe it anyway. I need to do something about my hair. Can you help me get it back to its normal color?”

  “I could try, but why risk me screwing it up? You should get a hairdresser to do it properly. Anyway, why do it at all? I think you look great.”

  “It’s gonna freak everyone out.”

  “Since when do you care about freaking anyone out?” she asked surprised.

  “Well, maybe I don’t, I guess. But I like it better darker. This looks ridiculous.”

  “No it doesn’t. You look amazing. Okay, maybe it does look a bit ridiculous, but only because it’s you! You look so unlike you.”

  “I’ll have to put up with all the mocking….”

  “No, you won’t. Just floor them,” she said as a matter of fact.

  She was right, of course. No one would dare mess with me. They never did. I would just sort them out. I always did. I felt better again and smiled. I would make an appointment with a hairdresser, but in the meantime freak everyone out. It might even be fun. I felt so much better by the time Monica drove me home.

  “Why did you change the color anyway? And when?” Monica wasn’t giving up.

  If there was one thing that I had learned from my experiences in the last few weeks, it was that it was better to try to explain the truth to my closest friends. No point in trying to blow off Monica with a reasonable explanation–although I couldn’t for the life of me even think of a reasonable explanation for this current blond look–it would be better to just tell her the truth. But, timing was everything and this was not a good time. After all, she was in a hurry to get to practice.

  “Monica, the explanation for this blond look is not simple. It’s majorly complicated. I will tell you, I promise, but not right now.”

  “Geez, A. You really got me worried now. And super curious. I don’t need to go to practice. If you need me to stay and talk, I will. In fact, I think I should.”

  “No, M. Go. I really need some thinking time,” I said firmly. I really did.

  She looked at me unhappily, but shrugged in resignation and drove me home. We didn’t talk on the way back, but the silence was not entirely uncomfortable. She stopped in my driveway to let me out.

  “Are you coming to school tomorrow?”

  “Yes, I guess I have to. Can you pick me up?” I really missed my Jeep. My yellow Jeep–left behind in Darley land.

  “Sure, see you tomorrow,” she said and drove off.

  I turned around and stared at the house. How I had missed it! I remembered back to my trip here with Kellan and Ariele–how I hadn’t been able to work the garage combination. I know now that it was because we had visited here in the wrong dimension, but I didn’t know that then. I had been so confused. The house had still been here, but we didn’t live in it. The garage combination hadn’t worked when I had tried it. So, even though I had the front door key, I now walked over to the garage door keypad and started pressing the numbers.

  “Hey, Arizona?”

  I turned around to face Raymond, our next-door neighbor. I was so glad to see him that I nearly hugged him, but held back. That would be so unlike me, Arizona Stevens.

  “I like what you did to your hair, very pretty. Is your dad home?”

  “No, Mr. Golden, he isn’t. He went down to Atlantic City for a few days.”

  Raymond gave me a sympathetic shrug. He was a good man. Both he and his wife, Beth, had always been there for me. They were both in their sixties. Their kids had moved out a long time ago. They had sort of adopted me. It was their door I knocked on when I needed anything–which was quite often as Dad was away a lot.

  “Come over and have dinner with us then, Arizona. Beth made carrot cake, it smells divine.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Golden. That sounds so good, but I just at
e. And I have a bit of a headache, so I think I’ll go inside and lay down for a while.”

  “Well, let us know if you need anything. Beth will check up on you later.”

  I nodded thankfully, fighting all instincts–Darley instincts–to give him a hug and went inside to a quiet and lonely house. No sounds of Ella playing, Kellan or Harry laughing. I sat down on my bed and let my tears flow freely. After all, I was by myself with no one to keep them from. The tears turned into a stream and I could hear myself sobbing, loud, gut-wrenching sobs. I lay back on my bed, turning onto my side to allow my tears to fall off my face into my pillow. Were these tears of happiness at being back home or those of hopeless loneliness? They certainly didn’t feel like happy tears. But, why? I should be stoked to be home. Back to my real life. Isn’t that what I had been desperate for the entire time I’d been away?

  I must have fallen asleep, for the next thing I knew it was morning again and time for school. I couldn’t avoid it for another day, not that I even wanted to. The house was so quiet without Gertrude or my dad around. I assumed that Dad was still in Atlantic City and Gertrude… well, she must still be in my alternative life–this was all way too screwed up. As I sat on my bed–in my room–I wondered how I should handle all this. I had to be able to push myself to go through the motions until I could find a way to contact Kellan. It was going to be deathly scary, but I had to hold myself together so I could properly help Kellan. However, first I needed to find him. I checked my cell phone in desperate hope that Kellan had somehow managed to text me.

  I had several missed calls on my phone mainly from Beth. Before heading to school, I’d better stop by her house to let her know that I was okay. I also had a bunch of text messages–none from Kellan or anyone else in my Darley life–which I couldn’t bother dealing with just yet. I showered and got dressed quickly. There was no hiding my blond hair, so I blow dried it and made it look extra nice, and added some of Monica’s (which I had conveniently forgotten to hand back to her) lip gloss to complete the look. I gazed at myself in the mirror. You’d think that I’d be used to this Barbie look by now. Not so. I ran outside as soon as I heard Monica pull up on the driveway.

  “You look awesome, A!” she said as soon as she saw me.

  “Thank you, M. It’s going to be an interesting day.”

  “No kidding,” she laughed. “You better bring your backpack, though….”

  I had forgotten my bag, I didn’t even know what homework I had, but I knew I hadn’t done any.

  “Oh, give me a sec, I’ll get it and I also need to knock on Beth’s door.” I hurried off and was back moments later to where Monica was patiently waiting.

  “So, are you ready to talk?” she asked pointedly. “You look a bit sad.”

  “I suppose. I honestly don’t know where to start. Can I ask you a few things first, so I can get things clear in my head before I try to explain them to you?”

  “Sure,” she sighed.

  “Have you seen Simla or Justin this weekend?”

  “Simla or Justin? No, but then I’d no reason to. Why?”

  “What about Ariele? Have you heard from her since Saturday?”

  “No. She said she would call once she got to California, but she’s probably been too busy getting settled in. Have you heard from her?”

  “I have, sort of,” I replied hesitantly.

  “Sort of?”

  “I actually saw her.”

  “Skype?”

  “No, not exactly,” I said, wondering how to continue with this conversation. Luckily the school came to view and we had to stop talking anyway as Monica pulled into the parking slot and stopped.

  “We’re going to be late, can we continue with this later?” I asked hopefully.

  “Well, I guess,” she said unhappily, clearly dissatisfied.

  I started walking toward my first class, English, aware of the many looks I was getting. I had fleetingly forgotten all about my blond hair. I was reminded now. Puzzled looks all around me, everyone trying to figure out what was going on. I wondered if I was recognizable, if everyone knew it was me. Perhaps they thought I had lost my mind and tried a different look. Perhaps they thought I was a new student. Either way, no one approached me. That suited me just fine until I saw some of my ice-hockey teammates walk up the corridor toward me. I had to make a quick decision–throw my hood over my head and make myself as invisible as possible by keeping my head down, or flash them a cheeky grin. I opted for the latter and smiled widely, winking at them as they approached me with their mouths gaping open. I laughed. “What’s up, guys?”

  “A?” they said in unison and then started laughing.

  “Hello, boys,” I replied as I flicked my hair and fluttered my eye lids.

  “Geez, A. Stop! You’re making my stomach hurt. What’s with the hair?” Christian managed to splutter between guffaws.

  Christian Taylor was captain of the team. I had never noticed how hot he was before. At six-foot two-ish, blond hair, green eyes, he was smokin’! Why was I just noticing this now? We had known each other for years. Before, I had only ever noticed his gross stench after games. I tried to suppress this new aspect of my observations because it was clearly a Darley thing. Laughing along with Christian were Brandon, Noah, Kyle and Nick. I waited for them to stop before I continued.

  “Like it?” I asked mischievously.

  “I think you look hot,” said Noah, sounding surprised at himself. The others looked me up and down and nodded in agreement.

  “It’s not just your hair,” continued Christian. “Your face looks different too somehow, it’s–I can’t think of the right way to describe it–pretty?”

  Nick and Kyle exploded into another fit of laughter.

  “You look like a girl,” Brandon added with a smirk.

  “Well, I am a girl,” I said, rolling my eyes at them.

  “We hadn’t noticed,” retorted Nick, “well, until now.”

  “Get used to it,” I said, and dismissed any further talk about my looks, quickly changing the subject.

  “Have you seen Justin?”

  “No,” Nick replied looking around at the others. “He missed practice last night.”

  “Yeah, he’s in trouble. At least you texted Coach,” said Christian.

  “Did he go to the party on Saturday?”

  “No, he wasn’t there, either. Why are you asking about him anyway? Where have you been? Did you go to that girl’s hockey camp you swore not to go to? Is that the reason for this new look?” Brandon asked looking at me curiously.

  “Nope,” I said before he could press me any more, and pushed past them to get to class. “See you guys later.” I could feel them gazing at me as I walked down the corridor, so I stopped momentarily to flick my hair at them.

  As I was sitting in English class, it occurred to me how differently people reacted to me here than they had in my alternate Darley life. My short stint as a Darley had exposed me to a certain familiarity with my fellow students that I had sort of grown accustomed to. The feely-touchiness in Darley land had been uncomfortable at first, and looking around I could well understand it. I knew everyone in my class fairly well, had known most of the people in this class for years. Yet they seemed detached toward me. They were all normal and affectionate with each other, but not with me. That’s because I had spent years making sure that people stayed at a distance. I wasn’t really sure why. I had put myself in a situation where my fellow students almost feared me. They all treated me with respect and were friendly enough. I noticed them glancing over at me, being careful not to linger to avoid angering me. There were occasional friendly waves, smiles and several quizzical looks at my new hair do. There would be no hugs or touching of any kind, not even from my closest friends. There never was.

  When I had arrived in New Jersey from England, I was about eight-years old. My life in England had been very different from the life I was suddenly faced with here in Princeton. In addition to the obvious trans-Atlantic differences, I
had moved from a life in an all-girls boarding school to a day school. Suddenly, instead of spending my evenings with my friends, I had to deal with my parents. My parents had been so much easier to deal with in small doses. When we lived in England, I always went home to stay with them during the weekends. I spent Saturdays doing fun stuff with my dad while my mom–or Mum, as I used to call her then– worked and then they switched on Sundays. It worked really well. Both days were filled with activity; I went to my karate, junior dressage, soccer, tennis and swimming classes. There was never a dull moment. My days at the boarding school were fun. We had classes during the day and the evenings were reserved for homeroom, which meant homework followed by downtime with the girls and then lights out at nine. The routine suited me.

  Then, when we moved here to New Jersey, everything changed. I was suddenly faced with having to deal with my parents every day. Not ideal, in fact, far from it. I very quickly discovered the severe flaws in their characters and the sham of a marriage they had. They clearly couldn’t tolerate each other. I could see that, even at the age of eight.

  I quickly attached myself to my dad. After all, despite his issues with gambling and alcohol, he was laid back and easy to deal with. Mom and I butted heads all the time over absolutely everything. I came to hate her. By the time I was twelve, I expressed my frustrations and anger physically. This led to broken windows and walls with holes. I was eventually sent to a shrink and spent a short stint at a behavior unit, which had been awful. However, I did learn to control my anger and with that my emotions. I had become unaffectionate, distant and unapproachable. I developed an even deeper hatred for my mom, after all, she was to blame. She’s the one who sent me to the shrink. I had detached myself more and more from her, my dad and my friends, blanketing myself in a safe, untouchable façade.