I Am Iris

Chapter One: Don't Quack at Me

I wanted to make sure I couldn't see a thing. If I took even a tiny glimpse, if my eyelids accidentally fluttered, this would be totally pointless. I squeezed my eyes even tighter, to the point of discomfort.

I didn’t want to hear anything, either. If I focused my attention on the sounds around me, if I caught just a single word being spoken, or a single footstep passing by, then I'd be zipped back to reality, and that's never pleasant . I put my left hand over my ear.

I needed to shut out the world, I needed to erase all thoughts. I just needed to mindlessly move the pencil against the paper. Whatever I subconsciously drew, that would be a clue. That would tell me all the answers to my questions- a clue to what? I don't know yet. What questions it would answer? No idea.

I heard about this on TV. It sure seemed pretty nifty to me. There was one woman with powder blue hair and so many zippers it would make you think they kept her skin from falling off, and she discovered her calling and that she'd become rich (well, upper middle class) through the cat figurine industry, and obviously it was true because all old woman with colorful hair love cats, even ones that are just porcelain with chipped paint in pale pinks and fading golds and-

Suddenly, I felt my right hand being emptied. Someone had stolen my pencil during my psychological experiment!

My eyes opened the second- no, millisecond- I had realized that. My ears finally activated in that way that ears do.

My teacher, Ms. K. was hunched over me, her face red and wrinkled with anger. Her hand holding my pencil was gripping it so hard that I thought she just might break it if she didn't loosen her tiny hand muscles.

Hand muscles? Is that the right word... Words? Term? I guess so.

I heard the hustle and bustle of all the students rushing out of the classroom holding their unnecessarily large text books... And I heard Ms. K screeching at me, her hands flying mindlessly in the air, and she almost slapped her own skin, which already appeared to be hanging ever so loosely off her face.

"You weren't paying attention the whole hour! All you did was doodle that ridiculous picture of a duck wearing clothes!" Her voice was like worn leather and milk that turned chunky after being expired for months- a combination that resulted in an unpleasant sound.

I looked down at my creation for the first time. What do you know? It was a scribbly dibbly duck with an oversized beak and a shirt that almost reached the crooked, web feet. Peculiar. "Anything's better than a porcelain cat, I suppose, huh?"

"True, true."

"And take into consideration that I drew that with my eyes closed," I added. "If I really wanted to, it could be much better. Maybe I could have given it a top hat, even. There's nothing happier in the world than a luckling duckling with a big, tall top hat, especially if it has a red bow tied around it." I smirked up at her.

Ms. K ignored me. "No wonder you failed your last test- oops, no- most of them, actually. Two tests ago you got a B minus! In a parallel universe that's almost good. What happened?" The last two words were less loud, less angry. More perplexed and disappointed as if she wasn't even expecting this. You'd think by this time she would at least be indifferent to this sorta thing.

"No, no, no," I sighed in annoyance, "I do pay attention during class, or, at least, on  semi-rare occasions. You see, today more important things needed to be done. A psychological experiment, actually." Ms. K seemed like she was about to say something as she opened her mouth, but then I guess she must have forgotten. "And the reason why I failed the last test was not because I didn't pay attention. It was because I didn't study at all. I alternate."