A Miserable Summer's Day

A YA short story exploring a mini-subplot from a full length fantasy novel.

                     Some days I wish I could make the smile spread across my face.  Today was that kind of day.  I felt it in bones when I opened my eyes.  Already the weather was against me.  Flat gray clouds blocked out the sun and rain tapped against my window.

“So much for summer.”  I kicked my blankets down to the end of my bed and lay there.

“Una,” Mom called from down the hall.  “Breakfast.”

The grumbling in my stomach agreed with Mom, but I couldn’t convince my legs to move.  What was the point?  Another boring day without Reed.

“Una.”  Mom’s voice came from the doorway.  “Did you hear me?” 

“Yeah.”  I turned my head in Mom’s direction.  Her forehead wrinkled above her dark blonde eyebrows.  “I think my legs stopped working,” I said.

Mom’s face relaxed and she let out small laugh.  “Up you go,” she said as she crossed the room and reached for my hands.

My body was dead weight, but despite the odds I came to a stand.  It was a miracle.  My legs still worked.

“Come on, I made your favorite.  Blueberry pancakes.”  Mom had already turned and headed back down the hall.

Scanning the room for a hair tie, I spotted the latest postcard from Reed propped against the stack of books I’d meant to read over the break.  Greetings From Hong Kong, scrolled across a glossy image of tall, lighted buildings.  It’d be the tenth time I read it since yesterday afternoon, I thought as I picked it up and flipped it over.

            Dear Una,

Missing you, but having a blast here.  Bought you a pretty bracelet.  Went shopping in Mong Kok.  Walked in the nature parks.  You’d love it.  Hope you’re having fun!

See you soon,

Reed

            I set the card down and sighed.  Just like Reed to have a good time without me.  Wonder what the bracelet looks like.  I grabbed at the pink hair tie sitting on the shelf next to the postcard and pulled my hair back into what was surely the lumpiest pony tail ever.  Why bother looking in the mirror?  I knew I’d only feel worse at the sight of myself.

            At the dining table, Mom set a stack of pancakes in front of me.  “Help yourself,” she said, wandering back to the kitchen.

            For as much as I loved blueberry pancakes, I just didn’t feel like eating them.  I slid one onto my plate anyway and sliced it again and again until it looked like an unfixable jigsaw puzzle.  Then I pushed the pieces around in the syrup.  The slow, gooey mess looked like how I felt on the inside after four weeks of being stuck at home with no one to talk to.  I needed more friends.  It wasn’t Reed’s fault I felt so crumby, but I couldn’t help secretly blaming her anyway.

            “Aren’t you hungry?” Mom asked, settling down in the chair next to me.  She blew over the top of her steaming tea and sipped it.

            “Not really.”  I kept my eyes fixated on the plate.

            “What’re you going to do today?”

            “Hang out.”

            “Are you reading anything?”

            “Sort of.”

            “Oh.”

            Then silence.  What did Mom want me to say?  I couldn’t make myself happy just because she wanted me to be. 

            “I’m going to get dressed.”  I pushed back from the table.

            “Okay.”  Mom’s reply was drowned out by the buzzing in my head.

            Back in my room, I shut the door behind me and plopped onto my bed.  What a miserable day.  Maybe I should clean this place up, I thought as I looked at the scattered clothing and mini formations of books, papers, sketch pads, and cds.  Maybe later.

            A knock came from my door.  “Una?”  Silence.  “I’m heading out now.  Call me if you need anything.”  Silence.  Then the sound of Mom’s footsteps padding down the hallway carpet.

            Five-four-three-two-one, the door opened and closed.  I think I heard the lock click too.

            The goat stared at me from the window sill.

            “What’re you looking at?”  I accused it as I grabbed its fluffy mass in my hand and readied to throw it.  On second thought, maybe it’ll listen to me.

            Lifeless, plastic yellow eyes gave me their full attention as I asked, “What should we do today?” 

There was no reply.  Of course not.  I wasn’t crazy just bored.  I pulled gently at the tuft of polyester fur attached between what should have been shoulder blades.  I was talking to a stuffed goat.  That couldn’t be good.

I tossed the goat onto the heap of blankets at the end of my bed.  Think, Una, think.  There has to be something to do.  I looked around again.  Okay, I’ll read that book.  I crossed the room to the bookshelf and willed myself not to look at the postcard from Reed again.  Instead I grabbed the copy of The Adventures of Terrince Blue.  Pirate stories were always a good distraction.

Settling back onto my bed, I opened to the first page.  ‘It was a dark and stormy night…’ Good, at least Terrince was having the same lousy weather as me.  I could almost imagine being on the ship.  The rain probably tapped on the deck the way it tapped on my window.  Finally, I had some place interesting to be other than this boring room of mine.

A knock came from my door.  Then again.

            My eyes shifted to the left and I listened for who it was, but heard nothing.

            Again, another knock.

            “Alright,” I mumbled as I rolled off my bed.

            My hand just touched the knob when another, louder knock came.  I jumped at the sound and drew my hand back.

            “Who-who’s there?” I stammered.

            No reply.

            I heard the lock click behind Mom, right?  Right. 

            Another loud knock, followed by a few rapid ones.

            Kneeling down to the floor, I tried to peek under the door.  Dang it, the hallway was to dim to see anything.  Okay, stay calm, there’s probably an open window somewhere and the wind was doing it.  Yeah, that made sense.  This happened a lot during bad weather when the right—or wrong—windows were left open.

            Nothing to do but open the door and check, I told myself.  My hand clenched itself into a ball and I had to will it open as I reached for the door knob.  I prayed I wouldn’t hear any of the familiar creaks of the door opening.  I’d probably freak out if I did.

            The knob slipped at first in my sweaty palm, then I managed a firm grip.  The door noiselessly granted my wish as I slowly pulled it toward me.  Blood never sounded so loud as it did then, rushing into my ears as I peered into the hallway.

            A hand shot out and grabbed my wrist.  My eyes were caught in the intense gaze of a girl with piercing green eyes.

            “You have to come with me,” she managed to say just as I let out a startled scream.

            “Una!”

            The weight of the book was removed from my face.  Mom stood over me, deep lines of concern puckered her mouth and around her eyes.

            “What?  Where is she?”

            “Who?  Why were you screaming?”  Mom sat on the edge of my bed.

            “I-I don’t know.”  My eyes darted around the room.  The brightness of the gray day had faded into a bruised colored evening sky.  The rain still tapped at my window.  “I guess I fell asleep.”

            Mom shook her head and smiled just a little.  “I guess so.”  She stood up.  “By the way, you have a phone call.”

            “I do?  Who is it?”

            “Who do you think?”

            In a flash I was out of bed and down the hall.  I grabbed the phone and fell into the reading chair.

            “Hey, Una!”  Reed’s voice was unbelievably chipper.

            “Hey!”  A smile spread across my face.  Maybe today wasn’t so miserable after all.