“Sounds like a place I would like to take a test.”
“It gets better. We’re given these pizzas, you know the kind you take home and bake?”
“Papa Murphys?”
“Yeah. Like those.”
“So I’m carrying this pizza in one hand and trying to find a seat. All the other students are sitting down, taking the test and leaving, one by one. Now I have a seat.”
“Good. Now you can sit down.”
“No, I can’t, because I don’t know the answers to the test, but everyone else does. They’re finding the answers.”
“Really. So where do I come in.”
“In a minute. So I’m searching, searching, running around trying to find someone to tell me where to find the answers. All this time I am carrying this pizza around like you see the waiters do in a restaurant with it held up high in the air.”
I made the motion with my free hand.
Aaron squeezed my hand as we maneuvered around an ice caked corner.
“This sounds like one of those dreams where your wish never gets fulfilled.”
“Oh, but it does. And you’re the one who fulfills it.”
“How?”
“All the other students leave. They’ve all found the answers. They’ve finished the test. I see an exit that leads out onto this street in some town. I don’t recognize it. The streets are narrow, the buildings high and old fashioned like you would see in Europe.”
“I gotta say, Julissa, you have vivid dreams.”
“Last night I did. Anyway I start wandering the streets still in search for the answers on the test. I’m still carrying the pizza, holding it up high in the air.
And then I see you.”
Aaron smiled. “Now we’re getting to the good part.”
“Yes we are. You’re in this big black car, like one of those stretched limousines. It has a sun roof and you’re standing up in the car facing toward the rear looking at me. I chase you down the street for awhile.”
“I don’t stop the car?”
“You’re not driving.”
“Still, if your dream was real I would stop the car.”
“That’s good to know. Anyway, I catch up to the car, because I think it did stop for a red light or something.”
“And I tell you the answers.”
“No, you don’t. You show me. You reach out and pull the plastic wrap off my pizza. You take the instructions for baking the pizza and flip them over. And guess what?”
Aaron shrugged his shoulders.
“There were the answers for the test.”
“You had them all along.”
“Yes, I did.”
“That’s quite a story, Julissa.”
“What do you think it means?”
“I don’t know, but it sounds that whatever you are looking for you already have the answers. You just don’t know where to look.”
“But I now know that if this dream were to be true, you would be the one to show me where to look.”
“Answers come from the sea of consciousness.”
From the sea of consciousness?
Heavy thinking.
Aaron stopped.
I looked up. We were standing in front of the school. I was a bit disappointed. My time with Aaron had gone too fast. And I had done most of the talking.
I apologized.
“Not at all,” Aaron said. “I loved your dream story, especially since I was in it.” He let go of my hand and handed me my backpack.
I heard the first school bell ring. “Will I see you later?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
He smiled, a more mischievous smile than before. “Whether or not you ditch biology class.”
“And miss cutting apart a pig? Never! What are you doing for lunch?”
Aaron looked to the sky.
Snow fell in big fluffy flakes.
I framed the picture of Aaron’s face turned skyward in my mind; a beautiful picture, one of a handsome young man with long blonde hair and blue eyes, with lips parted and his tongue stuck out in an attempt to catch a snow flake. A picture of a young man, caught in a childish act.
I noticed he wasn’t the only one sticking his tongue out to catch a snow flake.
Others were to.
But where others lapped up snow flake after snow flake, Aaron’s tongue remained dry. No flake touched him. They swirled around and about him, but not near him. In the snowflake pattern, I could see a bubble.
No flake touched him.
I felt and saw the flakes on my hair. I felt them on my face. They touched and melted and made my face and hair wet. I looked around. Other students playfully passed us. Flakes touched their faces, their hair, and their gloveless hands. Some stuck, some melted. Their faces turned wet, their hair mussed, just like mine.
But no flakes touched Aaron’s beautiful face. None touched his hair. He looked perfect. Too perfect. No smudges. No wet hair.
The drama queens would be envious.
Aaron cut into my thoughts. “I have to go home at lunch,” he said. “With this amount of snow the driveway will need shoveling.”
“You do that here, in California?”
“Shoveling? Yeah. A bit of hard work is good for the soul. Least that’s what Bernard tells us.”
“Sounds like Bernard tells you a lot of things.”
“He knows best.”
I heard the warning bell go off.
Bernard stood at the front door, washing fingerprints off the windows.
I saw Aaron’s face go sour.
“Okay,” I said. “Then I’ll see you in Biology. Thanks for walking me to school. It was nice. Maybe we can do it again.”
“My pleasure. No slipping.” He pointed to the sidewalk as he walked away.
It was hard for me to reconcile the little boy who had just stuck out his tongue to catch a snowflake with the boy who had said, answers come from the sea of consciousness.
Aaron was fast becoming like no other boy I had known. He was beautiful, but when his face turned sour, as it did a moment ago, I felt chills run up and down my spine. And yet, the holding of his hand could melt the coldest of coldest girl’s heart. I only saw kindness and tenderness in the way he listened and replied to my ramblings. I sensed a complexity in him that is rarely found in one so young.
It was way too early to say I was falling in love with Aaron, but it wasn’t farfetched to believe that I could or would.
11 SNOW & CRYSTALS
I watched Aaron stop and chat with Bernard for a moment as he entered the main doors of the high school. Seconds later, his cousins emerged out of nowhere. They became, as Cherrie so aptly described it, Aaron’s bookends and the threesome walked down the hall, unimpeded by the masses.
Jason Chavez corralled me as soon as I stepped foot through the front entrance.
I offered Bernard a “good morning.”
He reciprocated with a smidge of a smile, nothing more.
“Bichin day.” That was Jason’s opening line.
I couldn’t help myself. “Good morning to you too, Jason.”
“What do you think?”
“About what?”
“The snow.”
“Believe me, Jason, we have snow in Minnesota.”
“Yeah, but in August?”
“I can wait. Snow could wait until November or even Christmas for all I care.”
“Don’t think you understand.”
“What?”
“It’s snowing on the mountain.”
I closed in on my first period class—history. The final bell was about to ring.
“Don’t you have class, Jason?”
“Phys. Ed. Coach Schatz won’t care if I’m a few minutes late. He won’t even notice and I dress real fast.”
“So,” I said, stopping at the entrance to my class door, “why are you so excited it’s snowing on the mountain? You a climber?”
Jason almost bit his tongue. “Shit no. I ri
p flake. There’s powder to burn. Do you snow board?”
So that was it. Jason was angling. “No. I’ve never even skied. Well, nothing really big, anyway.”
“I could teach you to rip flake.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Tomorrow. I’ll teach you.” Jason turned and started for his classroom. He yelled back. “The whole town is going nuts. August snow means early money.”
The bell rang as I slid into my seat. I had forgotten what sustained the city of Shasta was the flood of money from outdoor enthusiasts, whether they were golfers, snow boarders or mountaineers.
There was a lot of excited talk in the classroom about the snow and what everyone’s plans were for the next day. I hated to remind everyone it was Wednesday and we still had Thursday and Friday’s classes to get through, not to mention the week-end’s homework assignments.
I couldn’t find the joy.
Several of my classmates showed me the way.
“If it keeps snowing,” they said, “they’ll close school tomorrow.”
“Why?” I said.
“Because the buses won’t run.”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“Most of the kids here live out of town.”
I hadn’t given that much thought. Shasta City wasn’t all that big, but the surrounding area was sizeable. Most of our student populace rode buses to and from school.
I was perhaps the only one in the room, and possibly the only one in school, praying it wouldn’t continue to snow.
What if they cancelled the rest of the day at school and sent us home early? What if I didn’t get to see Aaron this afternoon? I looked out the window. Snow fell in heavy concentration.
I fretted as I walked to my next class. Happy faces everywhere. I tried to not look too glum.
I saw the drama queen trio approaching. Too late! No escape.
It appeared it was Sandra’s turn to do the talking.
“Hey, we hear you’re dating Aaron Delmon.”
There was no beating around the bush with these three.
“Where’d you hear that?”
“Talk around school.”
“It’s not true. I haven’t dated anyone from this school yet.”
“We were hoping you were.”
“Why?”
The three of them looked at each other. “The Delmons...well...ah they’re to die for, don’t you think?”
“I think,” I said, “they’re normal guys. Just misunderstood.”
I didn’t believe this for a second, but I wanted to be nonchalant as possible about my interaction with the Delmons.
“They’re a bit put-offish.” Charleen added this.
“You could say that. But you would be too if people looked at you different.”
Come to think of it, the drama queens were looked at different, just in a good way versus the way the Delmon’s were viewed.
I began to suspect the three drama queens wouldn’t mind hooking up with the three Delmon boys. I had a hard time working that one through my mind. The prim and proper queens, hand in hand with Beaumont, Belmont and (NO!) Aaron. Maybe I should be implying a hands-off relationship with Aaron.
“Aaron and I have been hanging together a bit,” I told them.
It was Brittany’s turn. “You know he was selected to play Romeo.”
My stomach caved. “Who? Aaron?”
“Yes.”
“In drama class?” Forgive my denseness. I was still trying to digest the news.
The three DQ’s looked at each other. The bell rang. We scurried to class.
It was hard for me to get my head wrapped around speaking Spanish. Coming from Minnesota, I don’t have an ear for it and I couldn’t remember ever hearing it spoken out on the streets. A few words in movies and on TV made up the extent of my exposure to the Spanish language.
The news of Aaron landing the role of Romeo didn’t help with my concentration in Spanish class. It could only mean he would be kissing another girl in the not too distant future.
I know I’m overacting. After all, this is just a play. But somehow it still feels as though someone punched me in the gut, and it wasn’t Cherrie.
I looked up to see Mr. Albom eyeing me with concern. I’m sure I’m looking rather off-color. I smile with the intent to let him know I’m okay. Another visit to the front office and I’m sure they’re going to send me straight to counseling. I dove into the assignment. The end of class couldn’t come soon enough.
Phys. Ed. allowed me to physically vent, and vent I did. As I said, indoor hockey isn’t my specialty, especially since it does not require ice or roller skates. But I made ham-work out of the drama-queen’s team. Thirteen scores in all. Finally Ms. Wroblewski substituted in Ann Widebody, Widebody being the name most of us gave Ann in tribute to...well, yes, her wide body. Not that she was all that obese. She came from Irish stock—short and stout and nearly as wide as she was tall.
“You sure were on fire,” Ms. Wroblewskie said, as she handed me the score chart.
I was flabbergasted to see only three scores behind my name.
“I’m feeling spunky today, Ms. Wrob. Didn’t I score more than this?”
“You were off sides on a number of them.”
“Ten of them?”
“Let me see.” Ms. Wroblewski took the chart. “Ann must have missed some scores.” She handed the chart back to me without making any modifications.
“That means I only get three?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll grade you accordingly.”
“Okay.”
I eyed wide-body Ann with contempt. There was no avenging her oversight, though, as I could see she was not going to score, and even if, by happenstance, she did, I didn’t think I had it in me to short her the way she shorted me. What was I going to do? Overlook her one possible point?
Courtesy of wide-body Ann’s inability to move up and down the floor with any measurable speed and the rest of my teams’ brown nosing, the drama queen’s team walked away with another win—22 to 17.
Wednesday, hump day, fast became a dump day—as in dump snow and dump on Julissa. Last I heard, ten inches of snow had accumulated. Guesses for the mountain ranged from one to five feet. Five feet! Wishful thinking from Jason and his snowboarder friends, I presumed.
I wasn’t at all looking forward to math class. It didn’t disappoint. Our teacher, Mrs. A. Carlisle-Steinberg, AKA Mrs. Aces, sprung a quiz on us.
I hadn’t exactly had my mind on math the past week other than one female plus one male equals a couple. Fortunately some of what was covered in the quiz I remembered from my freshman year at White Bear Lake. Others, like the girl who walks along the edge of a high cliff at a meter per second and the ship down below that keeps even with her and what is the average value of the distance from girl to ship over the duration of her stroll? confounded me.
We don’t have cliffs in Minnesota and, as for ships, the largest I had seen was a wake-boarding boat on Goose Lake in White Bear Lake. Not that any of that mattered to Mrs. Aces. She thought in pure analytical math terms. I’d rather be the girl walking along the shore while Aaron, piloting the sea going vessel, followed my every move. No amount of calculation could sum up the stimulation derived from my day-dream of being stalked by Aaron.
I really didn’t know what to do at lunch. Aaron was on chore duty, home shoveling snow from the drive way. Cherrie was off running errands. I wasn’t about to sit on the wall in the quad and be pummeled by snowballs. So I joined the two-hundred or so students roaming the halls.
I had never seen so many get so excited over a little bit of snow. I looked out the windows as I strolled and saw the snow showers tapering off. The dark bellied clouds passed on. Light started to break through. I fully expected to see sun by school’s end. This didn’t dissuade the snow worshipers from partying on, however.
I felt the energy building as I pressed my way through the crowds of party goers. I saw chaos at its best, in the form of two-h
undred hyped up teenagers, mingling and moving about. Despite the full contingent of hall monitors on patrol, a snowball or two made its way into the building. Then I saw something that made me stop in my tracks.
Way down the hall I saw Aaron, Beaumont, and Belmont. They walked, spread apart in near division, strolling through the revelers.
My first emotion was disappointment. Why hadn’t Aaron told me he was available for lunch? Or better yet, why had he lied and said he was going home to shovel snow? Then another emotion took hold; one of curiosity.
From afar, I saw the trio bumping into the masses. Nothing strange about their action, given the bedlam in progress, however, I sensed a design to the Delmon’s wanderings. They were reaching out, touching as many students as possible. A placing of the hand here, a shoulder bent there, skin to skin contact. Again, nothing unusual about the physical push since that is what it took to maneuver through the agitated crowd. It’s what followed that piqued my interest to the extreme.
As the Delmon’s swept by, hands touching skin, those who came in contact with Aaron, Beaumont, and Belmont, quieted to the point of sloth. They acted like sprinters, who in the last ten meters came to a faltering stop when their energy ran out. I moved off to the side, away and out of sight of the approaching trio.
A snowball came from out of nowhere behind me. I watched it as it honed in on Aaron’s face. I expected him to duck, swat it away—do something! He didn’t flinch. Just as the snowball was about to smash into his beautiful face, it burst apart as if it had slammed into a wall. For an instant, I saw Aaron’s features mirrored in the snow shower. And then it fell away, his face untouched.
I watched the Delmons from my hiding place as they passed. Fear took hold of me. What was Aaron doing? What had Cherrie said? They’re like addicts siphoning off energy from human beings.
To do what?
Why did Aaron need energy beyond what his body could produce? Was this their secret? Harnessing energy from others so they could perform super human feats? Like pulling the LC tank off the side of the mountain? Or, for a second, causing a dead pig’s eyes to open and its heart to beat? And was it possible for them, as I felt this morning when Aaron took my hand, to transfer vigor to another and give them the ability to stand erect and tall on ice?
Solstice - Of The Heart Page 10