Shipwrecked

15-Ryann

They started watching us, training us without us knowing. Brooklyn and Noa and I were special, I guess...
I could feel the large droplets tickling my shoulder as it landed on my yellow plastic coat that my mother made me wear when it rained.
It was chilly outside; cool enough that I could see my breath. I felt the little hairs on my legs stand on end when the breeze blew by, ruffling my long corduroy skirt.
My neighbor's little brother stomped around, splashing in his rubber boots.
She stood there glaring at me from under her pink polka dotted umbrella, her eyes a penetrating black.
She had dark hair. She always had it drawn back from her face with a ribbon. Her warm skin made her white dress seem brighter.
She could've been my sister.
Her teeth had metal on them so when she closed her mouth her lips poked out more than they should.
I remembered learning of these devices in a book I had read. They were called braces, meant to straighten out one's teeth.
Apparently only the older kids got to wear them, which fit, considering not all of my teeth had fallen out yet.
It makes sense to me now. She was one of the high school kids. The ones that weren't special enough to leave. I never knew that was their reason for bitching though. At least not at that age...
I just thought that the older kids were mean because they could be. Which, of course was true, but I never knew they had another reason.
I felt the cold water seep through my strange patterned leggings as her brother splashed me repetitively.
My laced canvas sneakers were already soaked so much that when I wiggled my toes I could hear the mush of the water in my wool knee socks.
She glanced at me as I made the sloshing sound with my feet.
I licked my dry lips.
"Didn't your mom teach you how to match?" she asked a little too loudly.
I nodded.
"Then why don't you?" she snapped.
"Because," I started, "this makes more of a statement, don't you think?"
"Yea, maybe if you're trying to announce that you want to get punched."
I shrugged and went back to staring at the ground.
I couldn't have cared less what she thought of my mismatched clothing. I was just furious that she could treat me the way she was.
I clenched and unclenched my fists in my mittens. One of them had a hole in it.
Now I see that I did kind of dress weird. I looked like an old homeless lady. I wore so many layers of clothing, and most of it was torn.
But then, all I could think about was how the bus could not have been any later.
I felt like I would blow a gasket if she spoke another word to me.
I got this feeling a lot. My mother took me to anger management so I knew how to control myself, but it wasn't easy.
He started jumping up and down, again. Up and down, up and down.
The water splashed all over the place, and she simply stood there not even blinking an eye.
She didn't care; he wasn't touching her with the mucky rain water.
I flinched every time the cold water hit me. I could tell she was stifling a laugh.
She looked down at her brother. His name was Raleigh.
"Good job Raleigh." she praised him. "Just a little tip buddy,"
"Yes?" he asked, a little too anxiously.
"Aim for the face."
He was young but he understood. He grinned and kicked water up at my face leaving my skin stained with dirt and grass.
I closed my eyes and took it. I had to. I couldn't get a call home to Mom, not before school even started.
I heard the squeaky breaks as the bus came to a stop on the corner of our street and I opened my eyes and waited for them to get on before I climbed up the steps and shuffled down the aisle.
He scurried to sit down in one of the only seats in the front and she strutted towards the middle and plopped down in her seat with her friend.
I was left standing there like an idiot with nowhere to sit but the very back seat. Like always.
They called it the loner spot.
No one ever wanted to sit there and since I was the last one on the bus, I always ended up there, sitting in the corner while the older boys smoked, did drugs, kissed girls, and talked about sex.
I sighed and shuffled to the back as everyone laughed and whispered about me.
Several kids took up the whole aisle so I had to squeeze by them, then when I brushed their shoulders they yelled at me.
I could feel the tension in my muscles as I walked.
"Hey, how are you baby," one of the guys said as he smacked his gum.
"God, she's so scrawny. We could fucking beat her sorry little ass Kyle." said another.
"We'd get fucking arrested,"
"Who cares?"
The first guy chuckled, "You're right dude!"
I kept my eyes straight ahead. The back of the bus seemed to be getting farther and farther away.
This girl stuck her foot out in attempt to trip me and I snapped. I hopped over her foot and grabbed her arm as I walked by.
I pulled her out of the seat, smashing her face against the window in the process.
Once I had her up I could tell she was twice my size, big and burly.
She threw her fist out and tried to punch me in the face but I ducked and dove under her legs twisting her arm and bringing her with me.
She growled in pain as she hit the ground, blood trickled out of her nose.
I turned and tried to run away but a big guy was blocking my way.
He grabbed me from behind and wrapped his arms around my neck pulling my feet off the ground.
I kicked and screamed as I tried to get out of his grip, but he was too strong for me.
I was beginning to see black fuzzy stuff blocking my vision and I gasped for air as I kicked him in the gut and braced myself as he fell to the ground as well, clutching his stomach.
The girl was back to her feet, but blood was dribbling down her face and I was almost sure she couldn't see me too well, so I turned and jumped off the boy's chest kicking his nose as I ran for the door of the bus.
The driver didn't even blink an eye as I pried the doors open and ran down the street to my house.
It wasn't until I got home and locked the door that I peeked tentatively through the curtains.
I sighed with relief when I saw no angry teenagers at my curb.
I smiled to myself, thinking I had showed them, and dropped my leather backpack on the floor.
It wasn't until my mother walked through the kitchen and into the foyer that I realized how much trouble I was in.
"Oh dear god Ryann, what is that in your hair?" she shouted, reaching and hand out to one of my braids. The red liquid that coated them and ran down my temples ended up on her hands.
"Blood," I answered.
We heard a knock on the door and I flinched, ducking down.
My mom started to breathe heavily at the booming sound of a man's authoritative voice.
"Ry," she whispered, "I want you to go upstairs and clean this mess out of your hair as quick as possible, you hear me? Then sit down on your bed and read a book or something, sleep if you'd like, I don't care. Just do anything and everything to act like you're ill and pretend like nothing ever happened, okay?"
I looked up at her confused, but nodded anyway.
"Go on now then," she said sternly.
I slid out of my shoes and walked up to my bedroom as quietly as possible. Mom headed back into the kitchen buying me some time and waited for the man to knock again.
"Open up this door or I'll do it for you!" he called.
"Just a second!" she shouted back.
I could hear her tying her apron, rummaging around for some flour to toss on it. She threw an already baked loaf of bread in the oven and set off the timer to pretend it was just ready, which from the smell of the house I bet it was done only moments ago.
Smart lady, my mother...
She opened the door and I could tell the man was furious. He stomped through the house loudly, ferociously and I was reminded of the task at hand.
I looked at myself in the mirror, the rugged cut on my hairline. How was I to hide that?
I took my fingers and ran them through my hair under the water in the sink, the blood slipped out and through my hands.
The water turned dark red and I flinched, it was way more blood than it should've been.
I could hear Mom downstairs talking to the man, or should I say men. There seemed to be several of them.
"So how has your morning been thus far Mrs. Rivera, pretty peaceful, no?"
I could almost picture the creases on my mother's forehead as she replied, "Why, of course it's been peaceful, my baby, she's fast asleep, I just watched some television, now I'm waiting for my bread to be done."
The timer went off exactly on cue.
"Oh, there it is!" she said sounding surprised. "Would you like some?"
My mother's bread is hard to resist.
"I'll take a slice," one of the men replied.
"Lovely," Mom said and I heard her rummaging around for a knife.
"Perfect," I bet she started slicing the bread, "one for you, one for you, and one for you."
Three of them...
"This is very delicious," one of them said after a little while of silence.
"Why, thank you, it's a family recipe."
"Speaking of the family," another began.
I gasped, nearly hitting my head on the faucet.
I was so busy finding amusement in my mother's ability to trick people, I forgot my sickness role, the role I assumed was very important in the game my mother and I were playing.
I rummaged around for something to cover my cut.
"You said your baby was upstairs sleeping, correct?"
"Yes," my mother replied.
"Perfect well you see, as we remember, all of your other children are old enough for school. Shouldn't they all be at school? Shouldn't Ryann be at school?"
"Well, yes, she should be in school, if, of course, she was well enough." I could almost picture the look of concern on my mother face as she said this. "How did you fellas know it was Ryann whom was ill?"
I found an ice wrap bandage and stuck some cold water in the pouch to form the allusion it was melted ice. I wrapped it around my head and figured some other cover-up methods.
The men seemed speechless. Mom was too confident, too sure of herself for the panicked lady they were looking for. The lady who knew her daughter was a goner if they found out what she had done.
"May we see her?" asked one of the men. "We don't mean to impose, but..."
My mother laughed a kind of strange giggle, "I find it quite strange that three grown men ask to see my nine year old daughter, but if you must."
I dove onto my bed knowing that they were close, and tried to look as ill as I could.
By the time Mom walked through the door with the men I somehow had worked up a cold sweat and I felt dizzy from worry, so I guess my role was more convincing.
"Be quiet gentlemen," Mom whispered outside the door, "she may be sleeping."
"Momma," I croaked as she tiptoed into my bedroom, the men behind her.
"Oh, darling, you look terrible! Are you feeling better?" she asked siting down at the foot of my bed, grabbing hold of my cold hand.
"I feel a little better from the water I guess but still weak," I pretended to look surprised when I saw the men standing in my room.
"Who are they?" I asked
"These lovely men, why honestly I don't know where they come from..." she looked to them.
I must have inherited my poker face from my mother. We both know exactly who they are. At least she does, I have a hunch.
"We're from the R.O.S.S." said the big, tall, bald one in the corner. He had a beard longer than my hair that was scruffy and gray even though I bet he use to have brown hair based off his skin tone. He must be older.
"Oh," I said pretending not to know what that was. "Well, it is just like my mother to invite strange men into our home." I joked.
Mom slapped me playfully, "You must not be feeling too bad if your cracking jokes Ryann." she said.
I pulled my blanket over my face a little rolling over towards her and tickling my nose with the strings at the hem in the process.
I screwed up my face and sneezed several times.
"Okay, maybe I was wrong..." said Mom.
The men ignored our conversation. They didn't seem too convinced.
"You said something about the water. Do you mean the rain water?" one of them asked. "How did your hair get so wet?"
"I took a bath," I said, giving them a strange look.
"Oh really," one of them walked into the bathroom and pulled the shower curtain back.
I was smart I ran the water and planted some dirty clothes on the ground.
He stuck his hand down and brushed the cold, plastic surface of the bath with his fingertips anyway.
"Well, it appears so." he said.
I gave him a strange look as did my mother.
"What happened to your head girl?" one of the other men asked me, the one who hadn't talked at all. He obviously didn't seem to believe my alibi.
I decided I'd better be convincing. I decided to tell the truth about the cut....just not how I got it.
I cut my forehead." I said simply not wanting to seem to jumpy and ready with a story.
"How did that happen?" he asked.
I fake blush. "It's quite embarrassing actually, see it was kind of late last night..."
I could tell they were eager. They wanted to get me for something, anything.
"I had to use the bathroom."
I wait for them to push.
"And," one asked.
"And, I didn't really want to turn the lights on because I knew they would hurt my eyes and possibly make me dizzy."
"So?"
"Well, when I got up, I stumbled and tripped on something and fell into the bookshelf."
They glanced to the shelf next to the bathroom door with its sharp corners.
"And it cut your head?"
"Yes, do you want to see? It's very gross; it's been bleeding all night and now is all oozy. I personally think it's cool, but some don't agree."
The men shook their heads.
I was hoping they'd say that.
"Just wait till I show Michie Mom, she's gonna freak. And Pete, he'll think it's awesome!"
My mom laughed a little and patted my hand which was wet and clammy with sweat.
"You're silly Ry." she said. "You should rest more. I'll be back to rewrap your bandage in a little while, just let me escort these lovely men out of our home."
Mom stood and headed for the door. The men hesitated before following her.
I could feel their eyes on me so I faked a cough and pulled the blanket over my shoulders, closing my eyes and sniffling.
It wasn't until I heard the door close softly behind them that I relaxed a little.
I could hear Mom escorting then out and thanking them for their concern.
The men growled a little and I think I heard her yelp.
Then the men were whispering something so sternly to my mother, but I couldn't tell what it was. She followed along I heard a "yes," and an "okay," as well as several other agreement words.
Then I heard their vehicles start up and Mom slam the front door and climb up the steps, exhausted.
She didn't come in my room like I thought she would though. Instead she headed for her bedroom and slammed the door behind her.
I heard her weeping through the walls like I sometimes did when she was watching a tragic love movie or finishing a good novel.
But this, this was different. My mother never cried in front of me for real reasons.
She cried when she saw sad stuff on the news and when my siblings and I got character awards at school. She cried to make Daddy guilty when he canceled her dinner plans. But my mother never cried for real.
I sighed and listened to her, but it only made me sad and I had to turn on my music to block her out.
I ended up falling asleep and when I woke my mother was sitting on the edge of my bed stroking my hair.
"Ryann," she began.
"Yes," I answered.
"I love you."
I blinked once, twice. "I love you too mommy." I said, just because I knew that's the way things worked.
If someone tells you they love you, you say it back. But it only works if you do love them. That's when it comes naturally.
"Sweetie, I just wanted you to know that, just in case."
"Just in case what?"
"Sweet heart it's too hard for mommy to explain." she said.
I was silent for a while.
"Does this have to do with me being different?" I asked.
She slowly narrowed her eyes at me, "How'd you know about that?" she asked quietly.
I gulped. "It's obvious isn't it?"
She grinned a little.
"I'm different. I do things the other kids don't. I stand up for myself."
She grinned some more.
I felt relieved. My mom was proud of me. For the first time she was prideful instead of ashamed of my behavior. Or maybe she was proud all along and I just never really realized.
"You're proud of me." I said, almost like a question.
"She squeezed my hand, of course I am. You're so smart Ryann. Not many kids your age find out. It usually takes a few more years."
"Mom, what exactly did I find out about?" I ask.
She knows what I mean.
She sighs, "Honey, they're going to try and take you away from me. Once they find out for sure, of your differences, they're going to take you. They aren't going to give you much choice in the matter and the little choice that thy do give you, it's gonna be hard to understand."
"What do you mean?"
"When the choice comes, you'll know."
She gulps, "I just wanted to tell you, and I know I am probably selfish for telling you this, but sweetie, when they give you the choice, remember, those you love, those you care about, they have no way out. You, you my darling, can escape if you really want to."
I nodded and looked into my mother's deep, dark eyes.
"Don't let them convince you. Not like they did me. Not like they did so many others."
My mother was one of us. She was different too, just like me.
"I won't mom." I said though I could tell she wasn't too convinced. "I promise."
"Good," she said. She pulled me close and hugged me tight, kissing the tip of my nose.
"Promise me one other thing?" she whispered.
"What?"
"Don't react to the other kids like you did today. Don't ever do that again, at least not anytime soon okay?"
I groaned, "But Mom..."
"Sweetie, trust me." she said. "It's better that way. The longer it takes them to find you, the better."
I took a deep breath.
"Promise?" she asked
I felt the dryness in my throat the chap of my lips. I had too.
"Promise,"