At home, Gray refused help as he exited the car. He clutched his bag in a daze and followed Mr. Matheson to the guest bedroom where he’d be staying. Leslie watched him, eyeing his tense shoulders as he climbed the stairs. Savannah ran up the stairs after them, rushing past to her room and slamming the door. Leslie followed slower, closing the door to her room and finally changing out of her running clothes. She slipped on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and descended to the kitchen. She got out a soda and sipped at the carbonated confection. So, she asked herself, what do you think of the new boy?
A soft noise behind Leslie startled her. She jumped, clasping at her glass. She spun around. It was Gray, holding his castaway clothes. She hadn’t even heard him come down the stairs.
“I’m sorry,” said Gray. He looked at the clothes in his hands. “These clothes are dirty, and I didn’t know—”
“Oh, that’s all right,” said Leslie a little breathlessly. “The laundry room’s this way.” Leslie led the way past the kitchen and into the adjoining laundry room. She took the clothes from Gray and placed them in the washer. She added soap and turned the knob, pulling it on. Gray watched in fascination.
“You’re not used to technology, are you?” said Leslie. Gray looked at her sharply. “Are you from one of those religious colonies, the ones that shun modern science? Not the Amish—you don’t dress anything like them.”
Gray’s eyes flitted around. They landed back on Leslie’s face. “Your father’s taking me clothes shopping. And…school shopping. He said to remind you that movie night’s tonight and that all homework has to be done before that.”
Leslie blanched. “Homework! I completely forgot! I was going to help Savannah with her science report. I’ve gotta go.” She ran halfway across the kitchen, skidded to a stop, and turned. “Have fun shopping.” Then she sprinted through the house and up the stairs to Savannah’s room.
Savannah opened the door at the sound of Leslie’s footsteps. “About time,” she grumbled. She closed the door behind Leslie.
Papers were scattered all over Savannah’s bed, all information collected over the internet about chameleons. Savannah pushed them aside and sat down. “I’m done anyway. I want to talk to you.”
“About what?” asked Leslie. Savannah didn’t answer. She raised her finger and stared hard at the door, listening. Mr. Matheson’s low rumble was heard downstairs, and Gray’s unfamiliar voice answered. There were footsteps, then a door closed. All was silent.
“Okay,” said Savannah, relaxing. “Now we can talk.” She tiptoed to her bedroom door and opened it a crack, peering out. She turned back to Leslie. “So, what do you think he is?”
“What do you mean?” asked Leslie.
“Gray. Alien or time traveler?”
Leslie put her hands on her hips. “He’s not either of those.”
Savannah raised a finger to her lips, tapping slightly. She began to pace across her bedroom floor. “He’s got weird clothes, which made me think alien biosuit. But he doesn’t seem to recognize technology like automated transportation or lights or—am I right in guessing washing machines?”
Leslie was silent.
Savannah continued. “Aliens would have all that, right? Unless they live in a utopianistic civilization where they have put off all those worldly things and are living simplistic lifestyles. But then why would they send someone here? And would they even have extraterrestrial travel capabilities?”
“Is utopianistic even a word?” asked Leslie, trying desperately to throw off the conversation.
“It is if I say it is.” Savannah continued without pausing for breath. “But if he’s a time traveler, where did he get those clothes? Is it a piece of lost technology that we had once upon a time? Something that allows for time travel? And why is he here now?”
“I think you read too many sci-fi books,” said Leslie.
Savannah turned sharply and stopped pacing. “And I think you don’t think enough. You think it’s just a coincidence that you happen to find a boy dying washed up on shore, that he just happens to have clothes that attaches themselves to people and repair themselves, and hardly lets his eyes off a thin wooden tube? And now that boy is our freaking foster brother, and we don’t know anything about him! What if he’s dangerous? What if he’s come to—I don’t know—take over?”
“Why does everything have to be science fiction and fantasy with you, Savannah?” cried Leslie, throwing up her hands. “Why can’t Gray just be a boy who lost his parents in a storm? Why can’t he just be attached to a little piece of wood that is all he has left of them? And why can’t you admit that you just got tangled up in his clothes? They didn’t attach to you. Stop being so stuck in a fantasy world!”
“And stop being so blind!” said Savannah. “Ever since Mom died, you won’t look at anything besides yourself and how you’re such a poor pathetic little girl. You think the world can’t change.”
“I think the world can’t change? You’re the one who hasn’t changed. You still act like you’re twelve. You still play make-believe, like that’s going to bring Mom back,” yelled Leslie.
“Shut up!” shrieked Savannah. She pushed Leslie out of her room and slammed the door.
“Great,” muttered Leslie. “Now I’m the bad guy.”
I think it is what it is: A story you posted as you wrote it. As such, it is a first draft and there is room for editing/improvement. That said, I think it still fits with the feel of the previous story segments.
ReplyDeleteLooking forward to when you next write!