Zandra Páztor and Isis Augustine are students at Seaside High School. Zandra's the new kid, and Isis has to show her around. Zandra jumps to conclusions, thinking Isis is the pretty and popular girl of the school, but Isis assures her it's not as ea...
I had to be wheeled out to the car in a wheelchair because my body'd still kinda weak from everything. Getting up to hug Danny was I think the first time I got up since the accident. Gosh, that was about eightish month ago. Too long. One of the worst parts of the hospital is that I couldn't listen to any music. I mean, there was that lame elevator music that was always playing, but really. I couldn't use my phone while I was there, and they wouldn't tell me why.
On the way home, Liz put in an album she said was by my favorite band, and It really calmed me down. It probably was my favorite band. Nobody spoke the whole way home. When we finally got home, they got out the fold-able wheelchair to get me out of the car. I tried to tell them I could walk on my own, but they insisted.
God, they musta spent bank on the hospital bills, and just the whole experience must have been horrible. It felt weird walking -well being wheeled into- into an unknown house. Well, I guess I know it, but I don't remember it.
I told them I was tired and that I just wanted to sleep in my bed. I walked shakily upstairs, then realized I didn't know which room was mine.The room on the far left of the hallway was beige, green and real big. The next one I entered was next to the beige room and was dark green, black and white. The last one at the far right was all shades blue, green and purple. It HAD to be mine, I mean, It looked so pretty and calming. I don't know how to explain it, but I feel drawn to it.
There was a bookshelf stuffed to the brim with books, from Jack In The Beanstalk to Moby Dick. There were wondrous wind chimes hung from the ceiling, laced with beautiful beads and feathers, gems and dyed rope. They weren't ornate, In fact they looked home-made, but they were amazing. There was black writing along the walls, as I read them, I realized they were quotes. Gandhi, Rumi, Chuck Palahnuik, George Carlin, Shakespeare. I sat on the bed, and gosh was it soft. I skimmed over the writing, and one caught my eye:
"You say that you love the rain, but you open your umbrella when it rains. You say that you love the sun, but you find a shadow spot when the sun shines. You say that you love the wind, but you close your windows when the wind blows. This is why I am afraid;you say that you love me too."
(William Shakespeare)
Reading it, I felt a spark in the back of my mind, like a memory was trying to claw its way to the surface. Suddenly, I got an image -albeit pretty vague and brief- in the back of my head of me sprawled out on the bed writing on the wall with a black sharpie, clad black skinny jeans and a large blue sweater looking happy and healthy. As fast as the picture came, it left. 'Weird' I thought.
I lied down wearily on the bed, not bothering to get under the covers or change. I smiled as the security of sleep soon dragged me down into a deep, deep slumber.
~Sierra
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