The Unwanted Winter - Volume One of the Saga of the Twelves

by Richard Heredia

  Well, she is new, thought Mikalah. How is she supposed to know anyway?

  Her hair was bleach-blonde, but not the usual golden-blonde haired sort so often associated with Los Angeles. Rather, it was many hues lighter and rail straight, cut just below her ears with a slight inward curl at the ends. She wore no bangs; instead, she wore her hair parted in the middle, showing her broad, smooth forehead. Compared to most of the girls in the class, she was at least a hand shorter than the average and slighter of frame by ten to fifteen pounds.

  She looks like a first grader was Mikalah’s first impression of the girl.

  “Her name,” went on Mrs. Smith, “is Nixy.” This caused most of the students to sit up a bit straighter, glancing at one another in surprise.

  A strange name, indeed!

  The sisters shared a mutual expression. Weeeeirrrrd, was the silent message between them.

  Undaunted by the quizzical expressions of her class, Mrs. Smith continued. “She is from Scandinavia, which is a country very far from here, so I would like for all of you to show her how comforting and welcoming we can be here in the United States.”

  Heads swiveled back and forth like a field full of Meerkats. The kids peered amongst themselves, Mrs. Smith and finally back to the newest member of their class.

  “Okay, so who would like to be Nixy’s partners for today, and show her how we do things here at Yorkdale?” asked the teacher.

  Almost immediately, Elena raised her hand and announced, “I would like to!”

  Mikalah rolled her eyes at her “Miss-Do-it-all” sister, knowing Elena wasn’t just offering her services but Mikalah’s as well. Because, god forbid, Elena could NEVER do anything on her own. Since, she always had to be the center of attention; she’d always drag Mikalah into doing what she didn’t feel like doing at the time.

  What a freakin brown noser! Why does she always have to include me in all of her little-miss-do-good plans? Can’t she do anything on her own!

  Mrs. Smith looked around at the rest of the students, then gazed back at Elena, and did a circuit about the class once more. “Come on now, who else…?” She asked after a time.

  Mikalah sighed, knowing Elena was going to pull her into the mix no matter what she did, so why not, at least get credit for it with Mr. Henderson looking on.

  “I will, Mrs. Smith,” ventured Mikalah with a raised hand, her voice not nearly as enthusiastic as her sisters’ had been.

  “Ah, the Herrera’s come to the rescue again,” decried the teacher with a smiling glance toward Mr. Henderson, who seemed quite pleased with the outcome of this initial encounter.

  He turned and made a slight waist-high wave to the class and moved to leave the room.

  Mikalah watched his tweed encased form retreat into the deeper recesses of the hallway and out of sight, when…

  “So it’s settled,” continued Mrs. Smith to Nixy. “Why don’t you go and sit in-between Elena and Mikalah, dear. We’ll have Jessica come and sit up front here where there is still room. Come on Jessica, come and sit up here beside me.”

  Jessica grimaced at having to sit so close to the teacher, but didn’t utter a sound. She began to gather her things for the move, while Nixy shouldered her heretofore unseen backpack. With measured steps, she began to move down the aisle of desks to sit between the sisters, nodding to each of them as she sat down and began to unpack some of her school supplies.

  Over the pale girls’ back, the two sisters smiled at one another. Elena was quite satisfied, while Mikalah’s was full of sarcasm and mock thanks.

  Dragged me into the frying pan AGAIN, thought Mikalah as she looked away disgusted just as Mrs. Smith began to commence with the day’s first lesson.

  The door closed with an audible click.

  *****

  Mr. Henderson, long gone, already most of the way back toward his office, was thinking of the strange little girl entirely done up in white – skin, hair, and clothes. She was entirely white, he mused for a while as he walked up to the private entrance to his office. He inserted the key to the locked door and walked within the room beyond, seeing huge pile of paperwork stacked upon his desk. His thoughts strayed to the grind of his typical workday. He sighed, all notions of the pale-skinned girl in white buried before the onslaught of the bureaucracy that sometimes dominated his task of running Yorkdale Elementary School.

  ~~~~~~~~<<<<<<{ ☼ }>>>>>>~~~~~~~~

  ~ 2 ~

  2nd Nutrition

  Thursday, November 18th, 10:20am…

  “Because our playground is so small and we have a lot of kids going to this school, we have three recesses and three lunches. That way there is enough room for everyone to play without the yard being overcrowded. It can get kinda dangerous when a bunch of goofy kids are running around, acting crazy,” explained Elena.

  She, Nixy and her sister Mikalah stood in the breakfast line underneath the large awnings covering the tables and benches of the eating area in the northern portion of the schoolyard.

  “The little kids go first. You know, the 1st and 2nd graders, and then we go – the 3rd graders with half of the 4th graders. The big kids go last. You know, the rest of the 4th graders and 5th graders,” droned Elena.

  Nixy nodded here and there, but mostly watched the multitude of children eating, talking and running about. She had a strange look on her face that Mikalah couldn’t quite discern. She frowned. Then she caught Elena looking at her from the other side of Nixy. She rolled her eyes.

  “Elena, you don’t HAVE to tell her everything on the first day,” whined Mikalah.

  “Why not, she has to know the rules, right?” considered Elena. “Besides, Mikalah, you’re just bored, because you already know all of this stuff.”

  “No, I’m bored, because you just talk too much about things that don’t need to be talked about. I think you just like the sound of your own voice too much. Because I don’t, I’m sick of you talking already.”

  “It’s okay, really,” interjected Nixy in her thick-tongued accent, though she betrayed no expression and continued to stare about at the milling mass of kids. Her eyes were cold and distant, as if she were thinking of something else entirely. She gave off the impression the sisters weren’t worthy of her full attention. Her focus was elsewhere.

  Elena made a face at her sister, taking a few side steps as they crept ever closer to the front of the line. For a second time, Mikalah frowned at Nixy’s expression.

  “Okay, since this is Friday,” Elena proceeded as if she had never been interrupted, “we’re probably going to have a muffin or corn bread for breakfast with milk or juice –.”

  “Sometimes they have chocolate milk,” Mikalah piped, suddenly excited to talk about something that interested her.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” said Elena, giving Mikalah a hard look. “Do you like chocolate milk, Nixy?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never had it before.”

  Both sisters took a half step back in surprise.

  “Yeah right,” said Mikalah, chortling. “Everyone’s had chocolate milk before. You’re just playing a joke on us.”

  Nixy glanced at Mikalah with her stone-washed, blue eyes and gave her what appeared to be a tentative smile. It didn’t reach her eyes. “No, where I come from we don’t have this… this… chocolate.”

  “Wow, Scandinavia must be very far away from most things then, huh?” inquired Elena.

  “You have no idea,” muttered Nixy. Her smile broadened. Neither of the girls caught sight of her tongue as it danced across the front of her teeth, playful and gay - a tongue that was way too big for a child of her size.

  “Yeah, with no chocolate that place has gotta to suck.”

  Elena gave Mikalah a sharp look for saying such a thing.

  “What?” pleaded Mikalah with a silent shrug. Then, she said aloud, “a place with no chocolate has gotta suck big-time, don’t you think?”

  “Well, yeah, but…..jeez, Mikalah, you don’t have to be so completely honest about
it.” Elena spread her arms wide.

  “Why?” Mikalah raised her eyebrows, challengingly.

  “Well, I hope I get to try some then,” intoned Nixy with another small upturn of her lips, her tongue vanishing. Her head was on a swivel, almost as though she was looking for someone.

  The line progressed as usual, and before long, the three girls each had a muffin and milk, but there hadn’t been any chocolate milk left. So, the sisters made their way toward their favorite table in a disappointed silence. Nixy, in tow, couldn’t stop gazing left and right at the multitude of children playing and hollering around them.

  When they had seated themselves, Nixy quickly waved her right hand in front of her chest all of a sudden. Over her food, she made in a series of complex gestures and signs, chanting in some queer language that neither of the sisters could make out. Abruptly, she closed her eyes for a few breaths before she exhaled, re-opened her eyes and glanced about.

  The sisters stared from Nixy to each other, mutual expressions of “what was that all about?” etched upon their young faces.

  After an awkward second or two, “Were you praying?” asked Elena.

  “Of a sort,” answered Nixy.

  “Of a what?” inquired Mikalah, a bit confused.

  “Oh,” said Nixy, chuckling behind her hand. “I forget the way I am used to talking is much different here in this country. I meant to say, ‘yes, I was’. I guess, you could call it praying, but it is a little not like praying. Do you understand?” Her eyes boring into Elena’s with such intensity, her gaze was borderline ferocious.

  Elena almost moved back a bit, but caught herself. “I guess…,” she began, “like praying and giving thanks? Is that it?”

  She’s just different that’s all.

  “It is more like asking for a warding…,” began the pale little girl. Upon seeing the confusion in eyes of her companions, she added, “You know, a warding - a thing of protection?”

  The sisters glanced at each other, as though their mutual stare could bring some sort of comprehension.

  Then, “Oh, like when we asked God to protect us from temptation?” ventured Elena.

  “Yes, like that,” smiled Nixy somewhat broadly for the first time that day. She bit into her muffin and took a small pull from her milk container, gulping it down as quickly as she could manage.

  The sisters seemed quite pleased at being able to communicate with someone who had come from so far away and had a new, but interesting way of speaking and such unexpected ways about her.

  Even Mikalah had to admit it.

  This was why Mr. Henderson and Mrs. Smith were so pleased to have them show Nixy around. She and her sister were polite and naturally inquisitive; thus, they were the best suited to handle situations just like this.

  All the other kids were too into themselves and, as their father would have said, never paid attention to detail. They would have made fun of Nixy, eventually, and the poor little girl would’ve come to hate her new school, and quite possibly her new home as well. Both were so far and so different from her homeland, she needed someone to reassure her, to let her know everything was going to be fine.

  Rather quickly, a brown, long-haired girl from their class named, Laylanie, came up to their table, breaking the reverie. “Hey, are you guys going to play on the bars today?” she asked out of breath.

  “Naw,” answered Elena. “We’re still talking with Nixy and showing her how we do things.”

  Laylanie gave the new girl a cursory look-over.

  Nixy returned it with a blank stare. Her eyes were suddenly glossy.

  Laylanie turned on her heel, saying, “Okay, I guess it’s ‘stay with the weirdo’s day’ today.” She laughed so loud, it was most likely heard half way across the playground as she galloped away.

  I knew it, nothing but a bunch of retards! concluded Mikalah to herself.

  The sisters both shook their heads, half-closing their eyelids in disgust.

  “Don’t worry about her, Nixy. She’s always been a little mean,” offered Mikalah, “especially to girls she’s just met.”

  Nixy just shrugged and kept on eating her muffin, drinking her milk in regular intervals, her eyes staring after the girl named Laylanie.

  “So, where do you live, Nixy?” asked Elena, trying to lighten the mood darkened by her thickheaded friend.

  “Not far, atop that hill over there,” she answered, pointing to the only natural feature visible from the schoolyard.

  “Heeeey, we live about half way up that hill too on Milbur Drive. Do you live on Milbur?” asked Elena, taking a big bite of her buttered muffin, talking through her food.

  Gross! Mikalah grimaced at her sister’s lapse in manners.

  “No, I live on the top of the hill,” replied the little girl.

  “Yeah, but on what street do you live, Nixy? There are like three streets that go up the hill from three different ways. There are roads and houses on all of them.” Mikalah implored, shrugging her shoulders palms up and outward from her body. “So, which one do you live on?”

  “I just live at the top,” was the answer, short and final.

  “Okaaay,” was Mikalah’s reply, giving her sister the “Oh well” shoulder-bunch and raised eyebrows.

  Elena stayed quiet, not quite sure what to say, feeling uneasy all over again. Nixy continued to peer across the playground at Laylanie as she scampered about the jungle gym at the far end of the school’s property.

  By chance, another, much smaller girl walked across Laylanie path. Each made way so the other could pass. It was common occurrence on a playground as small as the one at Yorkdale Elementary, but its’ effect on Nixy was immediate. She stiffened, stifling a gasp.

  Mikalah wasn’t sure if the girl was choking on her muffin, glancing at her sister with concern upon her face.

  Elena was about to ask if Nixy was alright when she spoke.

  “Who is that girl?” she asked through clenched teeth, pointing directly at the newcomer.

  Mikalah felt her eyes widen when she looked upon Nixy’s face and saw what seemed to be unbridled fury boiling in the others’ eyes. She brought a hand to her mouth. It was her turn to be shocked.

  “That’s Marissa, Marissa Avalon. She’s a good friend of ours, but she isn’t in the same class with us this year, which is sort of blows… Why do you ask?” wondered Elena, caution in her tone.

  Nixy was quiet for a time. She seemed preoccupied with steadying her breathing, stood there, clenching and unclenching her fists.

  To the sisters, the tiny Scandinavian was confounding to watch. It seemed like a thousand emotions were playing across her visage – all of them distinct, some of them direct contradictions to others. It was beyond strange. It was unnerving.

  Why is she mad at Marissa? questioned Mikalah to herself, unsure where the query originated. Maybe it was a feeling, a sense that something was wrong.

  “I… I was just curious,” replied Nixy, belatedly, watching the tiny form of Marissa Avalon half-walking, half-skipping across the yard toward the handball courts.

  The pale-skinned girl seemed much more than curious.

  Another silence befell them.

  “Well, maybe one day we could go and spend time at your new house up on the top of the hill,” blurted Elena, trying to say something to fill the anxious moment.

  “Hopefully,” the pale Scandinavian uttered. “That would be quite expedient.” Her pale, blue eyes were glued to Marissa as she struck up a conversation with some of her other girlfriends.

  Well, this was all turning out to be hugely unfunny, thought Mikalah, finishing her milk with a big gulp, wanting to rid herself of the situation.

  The bell rang. Rather timely, in her opinion. She was already gathering what was left of her “school” breakfast.

  All at once, the playground was suddenly a cacophony of howling children and pounding feet, as kids everywhere, scrambled back to class.

  ~~~~~~~~<<<<<<{ ☼ }>>>>>>~~~~~~~~

 
~ 3 ~

  Sonny

  Thursday, November 18th, 3:33 pm…

  Kimberly Madison waited beside the parking lot at the back of Eagle Rock Junior/Senior High School. She held her Physics book against her breasts, backpack slung over one shoulder, with a look on her face that seemed to melt from anxiety one minute to irritation the next.

  She was a pretty, fifteen-year-old girl, despite the black lipstick and overzealous use of black eyeliner and sky-blue eyeshadow. She had a typical complexion for a Caucasian with a narrow, bird-like face, an aquiline nose and prominent cheekbones. To any stranger, it looked as though she powdered her face with white cover-up to extenuate the contrast between her black lips and eyes with her complexion, but she hadn’t. She was naturally pale, porcelain-white skin that never ceased to burn, even from the weakest rays of the sun. She was always working some sort of moisturizing lotion or sun screening oil into her face to avoid it. Because of this contrast, her blue eyes stood out moreso, especially when framed against the blackness of her hair. Those orbs were the only color amidst the absence of color, black and white, with two luminous pools of crystalline blue in the middle.

  She wore a black pair of torn up jeans, the brand long scratched away by her own hand to give them a look onto themselves - unique, hers. She had cut all of the holes and placed the metal studding. She’d even sewn the patches and etched the various drawings in permanent marker. About the upper portion of her person, she wore a clinging t-shirt, plain white, under a form fitting leather jacket, a pair of broad reflective sunglasses covering her eyes. Her ever-present fifteen-holed, Dock Martins encased her feet, laced up to the eighth hole and tied there, to let the topmost portion of her shoes fold back down onto themselves. They bounced and flopped with every step.

  Not walking now, Kimberly was leaning against the railing on one side of the narrow walkway running adjacent to the parking lot itself. It was constructed bordering what had once been called, the Boy’s Gymnasium, but, for reason’s Kimberly deemed idiotic, was now termed – The South Gym. More ridiculous politically correct bullshit to keep the parents of all the rich kids happy, she was fond of saying regarding the matter.