Tiffani, I thought, looking at her nametag that my arm had nearly hit moments ago. Most teachers didn’t let you call them by their first name, so she must have worked in the office. She couldn’t be a teacher. We must have been going to get some papers, like a new student packet and a sticker name badge. Those things I was used to. I’d filled out plenty of them over the past few years.
As we passed what I thought to be the office, my mouth opened to tell her we were there, figuring she wasn't paying attention. She noticed my hesitation and motioned her head farther down the dimly lit hallway. We passed three more doors—two on the right and the one to our left was set aside by itself.
Tiffani plucked a too full keyring out of her pocket and unlocked the silver lock. What type of school locked their students in a classroom? This definitely wasn’t a place I wanted to be. I thought Mom had made a mistake. I looked for her, but she was gone. I called out to her, but she didn’t answer me.
Just as tears formed in my eyes for the first time in a long time, I fought them. The last time I remembered really crying was when I was supposed to be a big sister, and then something happened and that was taken away. Mom said we had to be strong, and although she cried earlier today, that was only in front of me. We didn’t cry in front of others.
The door creaked as Tiffani pushed it open and pulled me into the small room. The awful yellow paint on the walls reminded me of dried mustard. I hated the color yellow. I hated this color even more.
Refusing to go any farther, I planted my feet and shook my head. Her grip slightly tightened around my fingers, but I managed to pull them free.
"Paige," she addressed me sternly, forcing a smile on her face. "There is nothing to be afraid of in here. I'm sorry about the lock, but we use it to keep you safe." She dropped the keys into her deep pocket, then stooped down to my eye level again.
While I pulled on the ribbons that decorated my hair, my eyes fixated on the polished gray floor, not wanting to look at her. I didn’t want to answer her, and I definitely didn’t want to be locked in a room. I was tired of everyone claiming to be keeping me safe when I didn’t know what they were keeping me safe from.
I saw stars before anyone spoke. At one point, the shoes were black. I could tell by the small amount of fabric that was still visible, begging to be seen. The rest of his shoes were painted with brightly colored lopsided stars. They weren’t even that great, if you asked me.
"Hello," he said. His light brown eyes searched my face, and he reached for my hand. "I'm Cal." He smiled and pushed his hand closer to mine.
Freckles decorated the bridge of his nose, and his left front tooth was chipped. He had to be around my age. Either that or he was extremely short for his age, because he was only a few inches taller than I was. Most boys were a lot taller than me. I wasn’t exactly what you would call tall. I was average at best.
Tiffani laughed, standing up and backing away from us.
"What's your name?" he asked, taking my hand in his, growing impatient.
"Syd...age. No. That isn't right. My name is Paige," I stumbled over my words, realizing Sydney wasn't my name anymore. Mom would be so upset I messed up. My stomach churned with worry, and again I fought the urge to cry.
"Okay. Sydage it is." Cal giggled, pulling me to his side and looping his fingers through mine.
"You can't...You can't call me that," I said, trying to sound mean. My eyes were on the verge of tears springing free, and my voice cracked as I forced the words outward and bit my lip.
"Fine. But I don’t like Paige either. Can't I call you something else?" His freckles almost disappeared as he scrunched his nose in disgust. I didn’t blame him. I really didn’t like my new name either. It was a perfectly beautiful name for someone else, but knowing it wasn’t mine to keep made me hate it. Paige was a loaner name. Soon, we’d move again and I’d borrow someone else’s name for a while.
I rubbed my eyes, hoping to convince the tears I didn’t want them around and they wouldn’t be falling down my face now or anytime soon. "I don’t know what you can call me," I said, wishing I hadn't met this boy. I tried to pull my fingers from his, but it was no use. His fingers were glued to mine, and they weren’t stuck with the stick glue you used in kindergarten. Somehow, he’d figured out how to mimic superglue stickiness. There were only two ways to unstick that stuff as far as I was concerned. Either you could press your luck and wait for the sticky to wear off, hoping for the best, or you could chew off what you could. Putting my teeth anywhere near him was absolutely out of the question. Right then, anyway. I still reserved the right to bite him if I needed to defend myself. That was always an option for self-defense.
"It's okay. See?" He motioned to a table that had construction paper stringing end to end. "We can paint stars."
At the same time, my blue eyes bulged in confusion, and I gave up fighting him. His eyes ignited with excitement.
"I've got it! Your name can be Jaci. It means moon. My daddy studied the stars and the moon." He thrust a slender paintbrush through our intertwined fingers and dabbed the bristles into a glob of blue paint.
"Okay," I quietly answered him, confusion stirring around in my head. I would argue that I didn’t want yet another name, but this name had a story. None of the other names I'd pretended to be mine had meant anything. Secretly, I liked that I finally had a name that was only mine. Secretly, I liked that he gave it to me even more.
“Your skin is like my sister’s was,” Cal said, dipping the tip of the brush into red paint and making a line begin on my forearm and rest on his.
“What do you mean?” I asked, wondering if his sister didn’t have freckles either.
“You must be colorblind, since you don’t see it. Mom said special people are born colorblind.” He smiled, and his grip tightened on my fingers. I wasn’t sure what he meant. I saw colors like everyone else. I knew we now had red paint on our arms and also knew the walls in here were the color of mustard. Yellow.
“I see color,” I said, stopping our hands midstride and untangling them.
“No. You see souls. It’s what my dad would have said, and he was a smart man,” he said and smirked, looking through his thick lashes. I could tell he was annoyed, but I didn’t know what I’d done to cause him to feel that way. The way I felt was far from annoyance. My heartbeat in my ears sounded like the washing machine in the basement of the house we now lived in. No matter what Mom put inside it, it always made a thudding sound, until one day I shoved one of Phillip’s shoes under it, because he wouldn’t be around to use it. What Cal had said didn’t really make a lot of sense to me, but I didn’t question it either. Cal’s dad did sound like a smart man, and I didn’t have a dad to ask, so I kept my mouth shut. Plus, I didn’t want to further upset him.
He flipped his hand over and took the brush into his grasp, pausing to put his hand over mine as he guided the bristles on the paper. I wasn’t sure if he was weird or I was, but I was certain he was unlike anyone I’d ever met before, and I thought that was a pretty high number. A number much larger than either of us was capable of counting. That was the thing about moving around so much. You met so many people and learned so many names that eventually they all seemed to blur together. I knew Cal wouldn’t fall in the blurred lines my life had conformed into.
We spent the rest of the day swishing paintbrushes, big and small, around to create masterpieces of stars and moons. Each time a paper was full he’d drop my hand long enough to retrieve a new piece and then took my hand in his again. Normally, I didn’t like strangers touching me, but Cal didn’t bother me. I didn’t have to tell him I needed a friend today. He knew. There were only two other students, but they stayed away from us and played with blocks at the other end of the room.
A teacher never came in that day, but Tiffani returned to ask me how I liked my new home. Nervously, I answered as simply as possible. I knew Mom would be upset if I told anyone too much about us. I refused to talk to anyone more than I had to, especially Cal.
Each time he’d scoot closer or his grip would tighten around my hand, my skin would get warm and my tummy felt like butterflies were dancing in it.
After three hours of painting, Cal randomly dropped the brush from our hands, looked at me, and quietly said, “We’re finished.” He smirked again and flipped his hand over to take my palm with his. I wanted to drop his hand immediately, but he made me feel something I hadn’t in a very long time. Safe.
It didn’t matter how many things Mom said we did to remain safe, I never felt that way. There was always this feeling in the bottom of my stomach that told me we weren’t. There wasn’t any particular reason to it. I’d just never felt the feeling everyone had told me I should. Until Cal, that was.
“Want to come to my house?” he asked, pulling me to my feet and not waiting for my answer.
“Okay,” I simply answered, knowing I shouldn’t, but I didn’t care. I was afraid most of my life, but Cal made that disappear and so I wanted to live in the moment of disappearance with him a little longer.
Two
It was dark, and I didn’t know what time it was, but I knew Mom would be more than upset with me. I shouldn’t have come to his house, and I was certain we shouldn’t have played astronauts as long as we had, but it was fun. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually been allowed to go to someone’s house and play, if ever, other than the occasional birthday party. Usually, those were cut short by Mom saying we had to leave for one reason or another. Honestly, I’d never been to anyone’s house without her, that I could remember anyway. I couldn’t deny the blended mix of fear and excitement swirling in my body knowing I might be in trouble but having fun with Cal.
Being new to town, I wasn’t familiar with the area, but I knew my address. It was written on the inside tongue of my left shoe. Mom always wrote our new address onto my shoe, which I knew wasn’t normal, but it meant I always got a new pair of shoes when we moved. The downside was watching her burn my old shoes to ash the night before we left.
As I slipped off my shoe, I was careful to hide my foot behind his mom’s seat so she wouldn’t see me recite my address out of my shoe. Cal’s amber eyes widened with curiosity. My shoulders simply rose and fell in response. I hunkered down in my seat, hiding from his mom, and signaled for him to stay quiet by holding one finger in front of my lips, hoping he wouldn’t rat me out. I wasn’t sure why certain things needed to be a secret from other adults, but Mom said they needed to be, so I went along with what she said.
I’d never really had the desire to explain myself to anyone, but I would have to Cal, if I knew Mom’s reasons.
Cal’s mom repeated my address as she typed it into her phone, so it could give her directions. As soon as she clicked one last time, her phone recited we’d be at my house in ten minutes.
Fighting back the tears that didn’t need to come, I bit the inside of my lower lip and grabbed Cal’s hand in my own. He didn’t say a word, which I was happy about. I knew it was weird that only after a day I went home with someone, especially a boy. I knew I wasn’t supposed to go to strangers’ houses, but he didn’t feel like one to me. I hoped Mom wouldn’t be too mad, but she would be. I’d been strong all day, in fact, until I heard what little time stood between Mom and me. The trouble I’d be in never truly set into my bones.
Cal scooted closer as his mom’s phone announced we were five minutes from my house when she clicked it for an update. I’d started recognizing things a while back, but didn’t see the point to tell his mom where we were supposed to be going. That’s what her phone was doing.
When we pulled in, Mom was sitting on the porch steps, and she didn’t look mad. She’d been crying, and instantly, just like that, I was sad again. A tall man stood as soon as we were parked, but he didn’t approach the car like Mom was doing.
After I opened my door, Cal climbed out of the car with me, never dropping my hand. I wasn’t sure why he didn’t, but I was happy he chose to hold onto me. I needed it.
“Pai—” had barely left the man’s lips when Cal interrupted him.
“Her name is Jaci!” Cal corrected him as he straightened his shoulders, defending the name he’d given me. The first name I’d actually liked in my entire life. Slowly, I shook my head in protest and disbelief.
I’d never seen my dad, but I knew this had to be him. My skin reflected the color of his, and when he smiled, it was a wide smile. The widest of smiles. He opened his arms as he knelt down to where we were standing, and I dropped Cal’s hand.
Running as fast as I could, I leaped into my dad’s arms. I didn’t know if a daughter could always recognize her father, but I did mine. Maybe I remembered more of him than I thought I had.
“Her real name is Memphis, young man,” his gruff voice answered Cal as he cleared his throat, and a small musical laugh floated out of him. “Don’t go telling that to anyone, though.” He winked in Cal’s direction, and Cal nodded in response. Mom wanted to be mad. I could tell by the way her lips set into a thin line. Without looking, I knew she was biting the inside of her lower lip, just like I did when I was upset. I didn’t just get my manners from her.
“You’re in trouble,” she said, her voice not sounding as serious as it usually was when I heard those words. She eyed Cal and slightly turned her head to the side to wink at his mom, but I don’t think she knew I caught onto her.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, but clung to my dad’s neck.
“She’s a shit liar. Cal’s mom called us before you even left the school.” He jumped into the conversation, thankfully before Mom gave me a speech, which I knew I deserved, and would still get when no one was around. At the very least, I knew she’d list all of the terrible things that could have happened to me. She was great at reminding me of the bad things that could happen.
The happiness overflowed within me, and I had to remind myself to breathe. I had a name, actually two names I liked. In one day two people helped me find my home. All the fear that had stayed inside me for basically my entire life was gone.
“You staying for dinner?” Dad asked, but Cal hesitated, looking up to his mom for permission.
“I’ll pick you up at eight.” She smiled and nudged him toward us.
Three
By the end of the sixth month, my family had fallen into a comfortable routine, and the best part, it usually included Cal. Each morning Mom and Dad would take me to my new school, and each day Cal and I would spend eight hours indoors painting or drawing. The school wasn’t typical. In fact, I was starting to question if it was a school at all, but never mentioned it to anyone except Cal. The only answer he’d ever given me was, “My dad said it’d be okay.” Unlike the first time he’d referred to his dad, I did have a dad to ask his opinion this time, and that was exactly what I intended to do today after school. I didn’t know if it was my newfound friendship with Cal or the fact that my dad was finally in my life, but for the first time that I could remember, I wasn’t afraid to ask. I might have been young, but I knew locking students in a room wasn’t right, and no other teachers I had met in the past stuffed stethoscopes into their bags when they thought no one was looking.
I’d narrowed my suspicions down to maybe Cal, the rest of the students, and I had cancer. Perhaps this was some type of children’s hospital for kids who were dying. That would make sense. Maybe Dad came home because I was dying. I knew that thought alone should frighten me, but it didn’t. At least it was an answer. I hadn’t gotten many of those my entire life, so having something definite, even if it was death, kind of comforted me.
Suspiciously, my eyes roamed Cal’s freckled face and then traveled my caramel skin. I forced them to open wider, trying to see something wrong with us. We looked like healthy kids to me, and I’d never really been too sick.
Out of frustration, I voiced my thoughts outright to him. “Do you have cancer?”
I was tired of always hiding what I thought. Maybe I’d always hated it, but kept my mouth closed because I knew it would make Mom hap
py. She’s happy now. Dad made us both happy.
Instinctively, Cal dropped his paintbrush in midair, splatting blue paint across the paper. “What?” he questioned me, but I knew he heard me.
“Do. You. Have. Cancer?” I spoke slower this time. Maybe he needed time to process what I’d asked. Most people didn’t talk so freely about it, but despite all the things Mom asked me to keep between us, cancer was never one of them.
He didn’t answer, just stared at me as if he didn’t understand, so I explained, “Mom said her daddy, my granddaddy, died while she was pregnant with me. He had cancer. It makes you sick, and then you die.” I shrugged and chewed on the inside of my bottom lip. I knew I’d scared him a little because he blankly stared at me, and then without so much as a peep, he picked the red brush up and started painting stars. After getting to know him over six months, I figured out he only painted stars when he was nervous. On happy days, like Monday, he painted the sun and a pond with a purple frog on a yellow lily pad. It bothered him that we were out of green paint, because that’s the color both the frog and lily pad should have been, but I talked him into using purple and yellow.
After he’d finished painting it, he smacked himself on the forehead and said he should have mixed colors to make green, repeatedly for what seemed like half of our lifetime. Paint flew all over both of our clothes and faces. I had no clue how much time passed before I took his hand in mine and guided the brush into yellow and blue paint to make green and began painting stars of all sizes. Soon after, he calmed down and thanked me. He didn’t offer an explanation, but I didn’t really need one. I got him, and he kind of understood me. When I was nervous, he held my hand, and when he was out of control, we painted stars.
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