My Home Planet

I guess you could say I was your typical alien stranded on earth. I had all the usual questions: where did I come from? How did I get here? Why had I come here? I had no recollection of life before earth, but somehow I knew I’d had one. Since I didn’t really differ from normal humans, I fit in pretty well on earth. I couldn’t remember anything before Mrs. Wilson took me in. She wouldn’t tell me anything about where or how she got me, just that we needed each other. I agreed with her there. I loved Mrs. Wilson more than anyone in the world—possibly in the universe.
I don’t know what brought the memories on—maybe the sense of comfort as I settled into my new life—but soon after I turned nineteen I began to remember.
I sat on the couch in our living room at eleven o'clock on a Friday night. The romantic comedy playing on the television provided the only light in the room, and Mrs. Wilson snored softly in the recliner. I'd had a hard week of classes at the local college, and I was enjoying relaxing. I don't even know why I thought of it, but I did.
The ocean. I didn’t know what else to call it—I didn’t remember it having a name. Unlike the choppy, ever-moving ocean on earth, this ocean sat completely still. Even my strokes through it as I swam barely rippled the surface. The expanse of bright green almost resembled jello, but it lacked the stickiness. The land dropped off right where the ocean started, but not having something solid under my feet didn’t scare me. The ocean held me up. An oxymoron of an ocean—strong, yet I still cut through it easily with smooth, quick strokes. I weighed nothing in this ocean; I could move freely—do whatever I wanted—and not fear falling. And possibly better than any other feature, I stepped out completely dry.
I stepped out, not onto sand, but onto bright green rubbery-foam. The entire stretch of land looked like a child’s foam floor puzzle. I marveled that the foam was exactly the same color as the ocean, but, upon closer inspection, I realized the ocean was actually transparent, the bright green showing from the foam far below. I lay down on the soft foam, enjoying the far-off sun.
After that first memory, they just seemed to flood over me, one after the other, colliding on their way.
At the edge of the foam, the yellow fuzz covered the ground. The fuzz felt like a furry blanket before its first washing. I knew shoes didn’t exist here and I knew why.
I breathed in and out blue. The air was blue, but such a light blue that you could easily see through it. It reminded me of the ocean in the morning on earth, when a light fog hangs over the water. I blew and a cloud of blue puffed out of my mouth, swirling away.
I recognized clouds of purple held up by short black trunks as the equivalent of trees. Identical, they dotted the landscape in a symmetrical pattern. Had someone planted these purposely? I hadn’t known then and I didn’t know now. I buried my face in a cloud of fluff and breathed in the scent. For some reason I thought of Gain detergent.
Peace and an almost startling silence surrounded me as I ambled along. Quiet such as this didn’t exist anywhere on earth—on earth something always moved. There were no other creatures around, aliens or animals—if we had animals. I couldn’t remember any. I knew aliens did live on this planet, but I didn’t know where. I walked through my memory a little more before I remembered.
Most of the planet remained natural because everyone lived in one central city. My steps slowed with apprehension as I neared Wwespo, the city. The blue air slowly became a murky gray and towering black buildings stood out starkly against the yellow sky. Aliens lived in something like colonies in these foreboding black buildings. I picked out the one I had lived in. Food and other necessities were manufactured in shorter versions of these buildings. The aliens hadn’t considered entertainment a necessity. I hadn’t really minded though—I’d rather wonder off and enjoy nature. I wouldn’t have missed television even if I’d known about it.
Gray aliens walked the red-dirt streets slowly, without purpose. The streets were dry because it only rained every tenth day. When it did rain, no one went outside. I did.
I remembered the strange looks I had received. I enjoyed the rain. I enjoyed nature. I changed color—going from happy orange to sad blue to angry red, but never gray. I knew they could change color too, if they’d had any emotions. I wondered why they didn’t.
The sun shone eighteen hours a day; pitch-black night with no moon was three hours long. The aliens worked eighteen hours and slept three. They had no weeks, no years, only days. Why keep track when you had nothing to look forward to? Why live?
I left the city in my memory for I could stand to be there no longer, just as I could not stand to be there when I’d lived on Tespp. I worked like they did, but not all the time. Sometimes I escaped.
I ran through the trees and remembered rain. Like the ocean, it wasn’t exactly water. It slid off my skin without leaving a trace and disappeared into the yellow fuzz. I stuck my tongue out and caught a drop. It sat on my tongue leaving a sweet, spicy taste until I gulped it down. I tried to catch it in my hands, but it just slid through my fingers. I turned my face to the sky and the soft drops slid down my cheeks like tears. Only then I’d never heard of tears.
A guard caught me, as they always had, and dragged me back to Wwespo, back to my factory. My punishment was no lunch. I wasn’t hungry. The factory smelled bitter, but no one else noticed. Various machines and tables and assembly lines crowded the large, dark room—a window two feet square provided the only light. Gray aliens did their work quickly and efficiently. Machines droned, metal clanked, no one talked. I wasn’t like them. I did my work quickly and efficiently, but I was blue.
The aliens never talked. I knew they could because I did; at least I thought I did. They just ignored me.
The minute no one was paying attention, I left again. I didn’t really want dinner anyway. They wouldn’t get mad; they didn’t care enough.
But someone did care. Someone said I didn’t belong on Tespp. They made me a human, opened a door in the bubble, and shot me to earth.
Terror rendered me speechless, unable to argue with their decision. I didn’t want to leave my ocean, and my trees, and the rain.
I came back from my memory to the dim room. I looked over at Mrs. Wilson's sleeping form.
But I’d forgotten them. And now that I was home on earth, they didn’t really seem that great.

Early Mornings

I am not a morning person. Up until I was a teenager, I'm pretty sure I never saw a sunrise unless it was from an airplane (and even that was rare--I tended to sleep the entire 24 hour trip) or the few days I suffered from jet lag after every trip from Singapore to America or vice versa. I always enjoyed those days, though. My whole family being awake at three or four in the morning, and just hanging out until the sun came up. Then we would walk in the early morning coolness (although even that was hot to us after being in America) to the roti prata shop and enjoy the breakfast we had missed so badly while we were gone.
Even though I enjoyed those early mornings, as soon as jet lag was over, I was back to sleeping in until nine or so (one of the joys of being homeschooled). When I was seventeen, I got a job at a daycare that required me to wake up at 6:00 AM. I set my alarm and asked my dad to make sure I woke up. I took it for granted that he would already be awake--he's the only early riser in our family. While I didn't enjoy the actual waking up, I did enjoy heading out of the house while the world was just waking up. I actually kept getting up early even after that job was over, but before too much longer, I remembered how much I enjoyed sleeping in.
My next job was at Mcdonalds the summer before I started college. My brother and I both got the morning shift from 4:30 to 1:00. We figured that way we could get our work out of the way in the morning and have the rest of the day to do stuff. We were kinda wrong. We ended up going to bed as soon as we got home in the afternoon and basically sleeping until we had to leave for work the next morning. We were so exhausted all the time. Jody drove us in my awesome car, Blue32, and one morning he drove down the wrong side of the divided highway. When I pointed this out, he switched lanes. We jumped at the chance to change to the daytime shift.
Of course, in college, I had to wake up early every morning except for Saturday. Although some of my fondest memories from college are the Saturday mornings when my brother and I would get up early and go to Krispy Kreme or Bagel Heads, just the two of us. Now whenever I have the chance to go out early in the morning, those mornings are what I think of.
With all these fond memories, you'd think I'd be happy when Gehrig wakes me up at seven.

Singapore Memories v.1: The Van

Something got me thinking about our old van the other day, and I started telling Mike stories about it. It had personality for sure. Since I was only four when we got it and eight when we got rid of it, I only have vague memories of it in itself, but I do remember some stories involving it.
It was an old Ford van--this picture was the closest thing I could find to how I remember it. I have no clue about the year (other than that it was old) or the make, but this looks about right. Of course, the steering wheel was on the other side, and it only had one side mirror for some reason (I remember my dad saying that was crazy, and I didn't understand why). Also ours was older than this one and had a hatch in the roof that you could open to let more air in. And it was all white with a black interior.
Another weird thing about our van was that the seats weren't in rows like every other van I've been in, they were all around the sides. It was pretty weird, but it was useful if we had to move something large. We could also fit all of our bikes in the back when we wanted to go cycling at East Coast Park. I always thought it was so cool to be riding my own bike at East Coast instead of a rented one.
Now on to the stories.
We'd been promised that monkeys were everywhere in Singapore, but once we got there, we didn't see one (of course, later on we saw plenty). We kids (especially my brother) were so disappointed. Someone told us that we should visit Bukit Timah Nature Reserve--we'd be sure to see some monkeys there. So we headed to the other side of the island to trek through the jungle. We walked forever through that place and didn't see one monkey. We walked dejectedly back to the parking lot, complaining to Mom (as if she could do anything about it), to find a bunch of monkeys sitting on top of our van.
We couldn't believe it! But there they were. One was trying to pry the hatch open, and I was terrified he would get into our van and we wouldn't be able to get him out. A little one had found a piece of gum someone had stuck on the roof and was chewing it. We just watched them for awhile, wondering how to reclaim our van. Then they ran off, disappearing into the jungle. And we were finally convinced that there were monkeys in Singapore.
Our van was a pretty large vehicle by Singapore standards, and we didn't fit in many of the parking lots. The ones we did fit it, we barely managed to scrape under. We always had to remember to close the hatch (it was always open because, obviously, our van didn't have air conditioning), but, inevitably, one time, we forgot. After that, instead of a hatch, we had a hole in the roof. From then on we had to stick an umbrella out the hole and open it over the top every time it rained.
Since it was so old, the van was also unreliable at times. I remember hating storms because whenever it rained hard, the van would stall and we'd be stuck in the middle of the road. To this day I have a phobia of stalling when I drive through a large puddle.
For a few weeks when I was about five, my parents would drive a woman (who is now like part of our family) to the hospital every day for chemotherapy. We would all sit in the van waiting for what seemed like hours and hours. It was so hot, and we would get so bored. Sometimes Mom and Dad would let us get out and play in a small patch of grass or in an empty parking space. The thing I remember better than anything is getting amazingly thirsty. My older siblings told me to spit and swallow, but they forgot to mention the "and swallow" part. That method was not successful for me.
I also remember sitting squeezed into the back of the van with the last load of our furniture and belongings as we drove away from our first home in Singapore for the last time. Something wicker was squishing me into my seat, and as I looked out the back window at our house, I thought that I should be sad. But I wasn't. I was excited to move to our new home.
While we were home on furlough when I was eight, something happened to the van and whoever was taking care of it for us had to junk it. That was the first and only vehicle we ever had in Singapore, and I'm sure the rest of my family has more memories of it than I do. I think I was sad when I found out it was gone. I asked Dad if I could have the key, and I, the hoarder of the family, still have it somewhere. I'm not sure why other than the memories it holds.

A Lamp Unto My Feet: Chapter 7

I struggled to keep my mind on my email—it was hard since I only had one—then I attempted to update my homepage. But how could I put an update about my life when it seemed like the only thing going on was the one thing I was trying not to think about? Thankfully before too long, I heard the front door open.
“Kids! Come carry the groceries!” Mom called.
She’d gone grocery shopping without me? I loved to go grocery shopping with my mom. It was a dumb little thing—Mom was busy, she couldn’t wait for me just to go grocery shopping—but it made me feel so completely alone and abandoned.
“Erika! Emma! Egan!” Mom’s voice was more forceful as she headed for the kitchen. She stuck her head in the study door. “Riki? Did you hear me?”
“I’m coming,” I said. I closed Internet Explorer, and escaped before the picture confronted me again. Egan nearly collided with me at the bottom of the stairs. We were apparently the only two reporting for duty. I was willing to bet Emma was asleep, and Enid was either asleep or suffering from her usual lethargy.
“I hope she got ice cream,” Egan said. “And Cap’n Crunch.”
When we reached the open trunk, he began searching through the bags for treasure.
“Stop that, Egan, just carry them in,” I scolded.
He stuck out his tongue at me and continued scavenging. I grabbed as many bags as I could carry and turned to go inside. Mom came out the door just as a bottle of ketchup—a plastic bottle, thankfully—tumbled out of the trunk to the ground.
“Egan. What are you doing?” She sighed. I barely had to glance at her to see that her face was more lined and tired than it had been a few days before. More pain than I could bear swelled in my chest. I pushed it down, unable to face it. I deposited the groceries in the kitchen before practically running out to my tire swing.
I climbed into it facing away from the house. I rested my cheek against the rope, feeling the warm scratchy burn as my tears slid down between my cheek and the rope. My head and my heart were both so full that I couldn’t think or feel straight. I couldn’t face any of my family without feeling a mixture of anger and sadness. I didn’t want to be selfish, but I couldn’t help it.
“Sweet pea?”
How come time went by so quickly in my tire swing? Dad was already home? Thankfully my tears had long dried. I waited for him to walk around where I could see him.
“How are you doin’, kiddo? I’m sorry if we’ve been neglecting you.”
“I’m okay,” I said. “You haven’t been neglecting me.”
“You sure? ‘Cause you’re our stable one, and I think sometimes we might depend on you too much.”
I was the stable one? I guess if you equate being quiet with being stable. I was glad Dad thought that though. I was flattered. I guess I could be pretty stable.
“I’m here and your mom’s here if you need to talk or need a hug or anything, okay? Most of all, God’s here. Have you been keeping up with your devotions?”
I dropped my gaze to his feet and shook my head. The truth was I hadn’t even thought about reading the Bible. I was too confused about right and wrong—about everything I’d been raised to believe.
“I know it’s hard to find alone time right now, but devotions are important; I know you know that. God’s the One Who’s gonna get us through this.”
“I know.” I managed to raise my eyes to his face so he wouldn’t know I was lying. He wasn’t even looking at me. I could tell he was staring at the window of Emma’s room. Before I could get annoyed, he looked at me, his eyes telling me he loved me. He ruffled my hair and kissed my forehead.
“C’mon, it’s time for dinner, and after dinner we’ll dig out the air mattress. I think Emma will be quite comfortable in the study for a while.”
My heart soared with hope, but dropped again at the thought of Emma’s reaction.
I climbed out of the tire with Dad’s help, and he wrapped his arm around my shoulder.
“I can sleep in the study,” I said.
“Sweet pea,” he started, but paused. “Well, we might just have to do that.”
The kitchen was bustling with activity when we walked in. Egan had two hands full of silverware with Gus tugging at his arms, begging to help; Emma was attempting to carry three glasses of tea at the same time; and Mom was trying to get the food into the dining room while encouraging everybody to be careful not to spill.
“Here, Em’, let me help.” Dad quickly and smoothly saved the ill-fated tea glasses and carried them into the dining room.
“There you are, Erika,” Mom sighed. “Can you help set the table? Egan’s a little distracted.” If possible, her eyes were even more tired than before.
“Gus!” Egan exclaimed as the silverware he was carrying clattered to the tile floor. “Now they’re all dirty!” Gus merrily grabbed as many as his hands could hold and started for the dining room—his goal achieved. “Mom!” Egan whined.
I realized everyone’s patience was running a little low—even Egan who had little patience to begin with. My pity for my brother was not significant enough to cause me to step in, but my sympathy for my mom was. I was, after all, the stable one.
“It’s fine, Egan,” I said. I bent to help him pick the scattered forks and spoons up. “We can just rinse them off. You go ahead and do these and I’ll get the others from Gus.”
“Okay,” he growled. I was having a hard time remembering if there had been a time when Egan and I had actually gotten along.
I chased my nephew down and sweet-talked the silverware away from him as everyone else finished setting the table. By the time I got the last few pieces of silverware on the table, everyone else was seated. I quickly sat down by Emma, avoiding Enid’s eyes.
Dad swept his gaze around his somber, grouchy family before leaning forward. “Let’s pray,” he said. He bowed his head and began to pray. I closed my eyes, but I couldn’t pay attention to his words.
God was going to get us through this, huh? Why had He gotten us into this in the first place?

I washed the dishes alone while Mom, Enid, and Emma watched Wheel of Fortune and Dad and Egan set up the air mattress. Emma warily inquired what we needed that for. When I told her I was going to sleep in the study, she lost it. She asked why she was so terrible that I didn’t want to be in the same room with her before running upstairs and slamming my door.
“Sweet pea,” Dad started, but he looked lost. I couldn’t stand to see that look on my Dad’s face—if he was lost, we all were.
“It’s fine,” I interrupted. “She’s just being dramatic.”
As long as she wasn’t dramatic with anything in my room, we’d both get over it.
Dad nodded and left me alone in my new room. I lay on the cold, rubber mattress for a while, just staring at the ceiling. I tried not to think about Smith, but I couldn’t help it. Had he done something wrong? I couldn’t imagine Smith doing anything to hurt anybody. Surely it must have been Enid’s fault. I wondered if Mom and Dad knew what had happened. Would they be harboring Enid if it were her fault? I wasn’t sure about anything my mom and dad might do anymore. It seemed like the principles I’d grown up with had just been thrown out the window. Was everything a lie?
Was God a lie?
The question chilled me completely through. I jumped off the mattress and ran upstairs. I definitely needed some flannel sheets and a blanket. I stopped at the top of the stairs—all the doors were closed and all the lights were off. Everyone was asleep and the linen closet was tucked snugly away in my parents’ bedroom.
I trudged back down the stairs and grabbed the throw off the couch. It took two minutes curled up as tightly as I could on the air mattress before I retreated back to the couch. I was still wearing my jeans and t-shirt, and I wrapped myself in the throw, snuggling down into the overstuffed couch, but it didn’t help.
This was a chill that wasn’t going away.

A Lamp Unto My Feet: Chapter 6

The TV was on loud when Emma, Egan, and I walked through the front door. The ride home had been a rather sober one with Egan’s occasional reports of elementary stupidity the only conversation.
“What’s on?” Egan yelled, running into the living room. I knew it wouldn’t hold his attention for long—even from where I stood in the hall I could tell it was a talk show. Mom didn’t like Egan and Emma to watch talk shows so I knew Enid would either turn the TV off or chase Egan out of the room. I was betting on the latter, but I wasn’t sticking around the find out. Mom apparently wasn’t home and I didn’t feel like being the peacemaker.
I jogged up the stairs toward my room and the solace of a pair of jeans. I’d attended the same Christian school since K-4, and I’d been wearing skirts to school every day since I started. I hated it. Mom said she didn’t see what the big deal was—she wore skirts all the time and she thought they were more comfortable than pants or shorts. She kept hoping I would grow into a love of skirts and dresses. I actually did have a few skirts I liked now, but I didn’t wear them unless I had to.
It wasn’t until I reached the doorway of my room that I noticed Emma clumping along behind me.
“Where am I supposed to go if you’re gonna be in your room?” she sulked.
I fought against my emotions, but I couldn’t help it—I felt bad for her. She was the one who had to give up her room completely. Who knew what Cashel and Gus would be getting into in there while we were at school.
“I’m just gonna grab some clothes and then I’ll go check my email.” Our family only had one computer too. “I’m sorry. I know things are tough right now.”
She sighed and I knew we were friends again.
“I guess they’re not so tough for us as they are for Enid,” she said.
I nodded, but I couldn’t help thinking that they weren’t so tough for Enid as they were for Smith. I tossed my book bag on the bed and began rooting through my drawers for jeans and a t-shirt. Emma closed the door and flopped down on my bed.
“Why don’t you like sharing a bed with me?” She asked.
I shrugged as best I could while in the middle of peeling my school clothes off.
“I don’t like sharing a bed with anyone.”
“Oh. Okay. Were you talking to Blaine Anderson today?”
I paused just for a second before pulling my shirt the rest of the way on. I could tell by Emma’s tone of voice that she was going somewhere I didn’t want her to go. Was this the only reason we reconciled? Just to fight again?
“Uh yeah.”
“He’s not a nice guy, is he?”
“How would you know?” Completely changed, I opened the door hoping to escape before this conversation went any further.
“I’ve heard stuff,” she said.
“Well, when seventh grade gossip starts being true, I’ll be concerned about what you’ve heard.” I closed the door behind me before she could think of a retort and headed for the stairs, my steps charged with annoyance.
“Riki,” Egan and his whine met me at the top of the stairs. “Enid won’t let me watch TV.”
Enid was married and gone when Egan was too little to remember. He didn’t really think of her as a big sister, just as someone who visited occasionally. He thought Elton and I had authority over her since we were the big brother and big sister.
My annoyance was eager to include him and I didn’t have a problem finding a reason—he sure found it easy to be nice to me when he wanted me to do something for him. I bottled my annoyance with some difficulty and answered in the proper big sister way.
“You’re not allowed to watch talk shows. Go do something else ‘til Mom comes home.”
“But where is Mom? Why can’t Enid change the channel?”
“Good grief, Egan, do I control everything? I think it’s pretty obvious that I don’t. Go do your homework.”
“Why aren’t you doing yours?” He scowled, his niceness disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.
I shoved back the words “shut up”—forbidden words in the Young household—and squeezed past him, taking the steps three at a time. Did I have to run away from every single member of my family to get some peace?
I was nearly to the door of the study when Enid shouted, “Emma!”
I sighed, deflated. What was so wrong with wanting to be alone?
I dragged my bare feet on the carpet as I made my way to the living room—I didn’t have the energy to pick them up. My loud, demanding siblings had drained me. I stopped in the doorway, not bothering to say anything. Enid was alone on the couch—the boys must have been asleep upstairs.
“Hey,” she turned to me. Her eyes were red and swollen, but the rest of her face was ashen. Her beautiful strawberry-blonde curls were greasy and tangled and pulled back in a messy ponytail. Her mouth tried to smile, but didn’t succeed—a dimple barely appeared in her right cheek before it disappeared. I shrank back from this person who used to be my beautiful sister. “Wanna watch TV?” she asked.
“I—I gotta do homework,” I said.
She nodded and turned back to the television. I retreated quickly, but not quickly enough—not before I saw the silent tears run down her pale cheeks.
I sat staring at the blank computer screen for a few minutes trying to figure out if I did have homework. I hadn’t exactly paid much attention in school. Had I lied? Had I really made my sister cry by lying?
I shifted uncomfortably in Dad’s desk chair and my knee bumped the desk, waking up the sleeping computer. That thing was the lightest sleeper ever—it woke up if you walked past it too hard. It whirred softly and the monitor clicked on. I found myself looking at a picture of my entire happy family taken—goodness, had it only been a month ago? We’d gone on a picnic right before Elton left for school. Smith’s grin lit up his entire face as usual. He had Cashel in one arm and the other arm was wrapped securely around Enid’s shoulders. Enid held a tiny Gio, her face just as happy as Smith’s. Elton had Gus on his shoulders and both were laughing. Mom and Dad had their arms wrapped around each other looking more like newlyweds than the parents and grandparents of all these children. There I was sandwiched between Smith and Elton, looking just as happy as anyone.
What had happened? The question I didn’t want to ask rang in my brain. What had gone wrong with our family? How had it happened so fast? Or maybe it hadn’t. Had Smith and Enid been having trouble back then? Surely there had been some signs. People didn’t just decide to separate within a week, did they?
I hated those questions and I hated the sadness and confusion they brought with them. I quickly clicked on the Internet Explorer icon and made the picture disappear.

A Lamp Unto My Feet: Chapter 5

I opted to sleep on the couch until we could figure something else out. I was kinda hoping that Emma would insist that it was my bed and I should sleep in it, she would sleep on the couch. I should’ve known better. She just got upset that I didn’t want to share a bed with her.
Needless to say, the next morning did not start out well. Dad was basically the only one who said anything at all during family devotions. At breakfast, Emma was barely talking to me, and Egan was insisting that he had to take Gus to school with him. Enid sat at the breakfast table, staring into her cup of black coffee, ignoring everyone. Dad kept an eye on Cashel and Gio while Mom reasoned with Egan and Gus.
“I’ll wait in the car,” I said. Not that anyone was listening.
As I started the car and turned the radio on to the oldies station, I knew that this was not going to be a fun ride to school.
Emma appeared first, climbing into the backseat and slamming the door. A few minutes later, Mom shoved a frowning Egan out the front door. Egan scowled his way to the driveway until he saw that Emma had left the front seat for him. His face miraculously brightened as he got in and began flipping through radio stations.
We got to school without exchanging more than three words (those words being “Egan, stop it!” uttered by Emma). I parked and we parted ways rather eagerly.
My friend Clare was waiting by my locker when I got there.
“I’ve got some news,” she said.
“Hm,” I grunted, opening my locker and all but ignoring her.
This didn’t discourage her—it never did.
“There’s a party on Friday night.”
I stopped transferring my books from my backpack to my locker to look at her and give her what I hoped was my best “you’re so wasting my time” look.
“So?”
“So we’ve been invited.”
“Hm.” I went back to unloading my books. “Who’s throwing this party?”
“Blaine Anderson.”
I sighed. I didn’t feel like dealing with this right now. Although my school was a private Christian school, that didn’t mean that it didn’t have its fair share of wild kids. Blaine Anderson was one of these wild kids. He was good looking and pretty friendly, but I could imagine what went on at one of his parties—if I ever took the time to think about it, which I rarely did.
Clare wasn’t a bad person, but she was always waiting for the opportunity to become one. I spent most of my time pulling her back.
“I don’t think I’ll go,” I said.
“C’mon, Rik, you have to!”
“You know I have no interest in going to one of Blaine’s parties.”
“But he personally invited us! And—besides—I can only go if you go.”
“Who says?”
“Blaine.”
“Can we say jerk?”
Clare could see she was losing the argument. I have to admit that it was kind of flattering that Blaine wanted me to go to his party so badly, but I couldn’t imagine why he would feel that way. We didn’t exactly run in the same circles, and I wasn’t exactly the most exciting person of the year.
But that didn’t matter. I wouldn’t go to his party, and I was doing a good thing by keeping Clare from going even if she didn’t think so.
“Please, Riki, just this once.”
“Clare, I don’t feel like convincing you that I’m right. You know that my parents would never let me go. You know that I have no desire to go. Let’s just forget it.”
She sighed and slumped against the locker next to mine. I got the books I needed for my first class and was just about to suggest we should start walking when I noticed Clare was staring over my shoulder.
“I can’t believe you’d give up that,” she said.
I turned to see Blaine across the hall talking animatedly to his best friend Carson Wilkes. For a second I couldn’t believe I’d “give up that” either. Blaine was the stuff prince charmings were made of—messy brown hair, perfect skin, dark brown eyes, and a mouth that could be sweetly serious or teasingly flirty.
Before I could make myself turn away, he spotted me.
“Hey, Erika.” That perfect mouth turned up in a smile just for me.
My mouth went dry and my brain went blank, but I managed to smile and nod before turning and walking quickly away.

“Whatcha doin’ this afternoon?” Clare asked as we followed the crowd heading for the front door.
I tugged my heavy bookbag higher on my shoulder and glanced nonchalantly around. I was keeping an eye out for Blaine while trying to think of an answer that would let Clare know she wasn’t invited to my house.
Why was I keeping an eye out for Blaine? I wasn’t exactly sure. It’s not like I liked him or anything. I just—I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about that smile.
“Riki?” Clare nudged me. “What are you doing this afternoon?”
“Uh—I have to help my mom—uh— ” I tried to think of something I knew would repel her. “Clean out the kitchen—I mean, really heavy duty stuff. Should take all afternoon.” So I’m not a good liar; is that such a bad thing?
“Oh,” Clare looked slightly skeptical, but she had no reason to think I was lying to her, I never had before. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Uh, yeah. See ya’.” We paused at the bottom of the front steps, an uncomfortable pause. I had no clue what to say so I just turned and walked towards my car.
Perhaps I had hurt Clare’s feelings, but I didn’t exactly have time to worry about it. I stared at my feet as I walked across the asphalt parking lot. The day was surprisingly hot for spring and I could feel the warmth rising on my bare legs. I saw the pair of scuffed Doc Martens just in time—I stopped walking barely short of bumping into Blaine. He stood right in front of me—I was close enough to see that the top of my head was even with his nose and also close enough to smell cinnamon on his breath. Big Red.
“Hullo again, Erika,” he smiled and for some reason the Big Red song popped into my head.
So kiss a little longer, stay close a little longer, hold tight a little longer.
I shoved back a giggle and just smiled and said, “Hey.”
“Did Clare tell you about my party?” He asked.
“Uh yeah. She did, but—”
“Are you gonna be able to come? It would rock if you can make it,” he said. He leaned slightly closer and said, “I mean, I would really love it if you came.”
I don’t know what made me do it—I knew I didn’t fit in Blaine’s circle of popular people, I knew I had no desire to be in or near that circle, and I was pretty sure they got involved in some stuff that could pretty well be defined as bad. But right then I, Erika Young, the unnoticed one in a family of noticeable people, was in the spotlight. And Blaine’s brown eyes were so beautiful.
So I said, “I’ll try to make it.”
And, besides, if divorce wasn’t bad, what was? I wasn’t sure anymore.

A Lamp Unto My Feet: Chapter 4

Dinner went by without a hitch. We all carefully avoided the subject. Even the boys seemed to know to stay away from the subject of their daddy. I ate as much as I could, but it wasn’t very much. Normally Mom would have noticed, but she was just about as hungry as I was.
After dinner the boys went back outside to play accompanied by Enid, Emma, Egan, and Dad while Mom and I did the dishes. I looked out the back door as I dried a plate. Dad, Emma, Egan, and Gus started a game of basketball while Enid pushed Cashel on my tire swing.
The phone rang as I was putting a stack of plates in the cabinet.
“Can you get it?” Mom asked, up to her elbows in soapy water.
I ran to the hall and grabbed the cordless on the fourth ring.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Riki! How’s it goin’?” The last voice I wanted to hear came through the phone, loud and clear as usual.
“Um—hi, Elton.”
“Is something wrong?”
I knew he’d be able to tell by my voice. I did not want to be the one to tell him. How would I? How did I get out of it?
“Do you wanna talk to Mom?” I asked.
“No. I wanna talk to you. Spill, Rik. What’s goin’ on?”
“It’s—it’s pretty big,” I stammered.
“For pete’s sake, Erika, just tell me,” he was beginning to sound slightly impatient.
“Who is it?” Mom came through the doorway, wiping her hands.
“Here’s Mom—” I shoved the phone at her and went into the kitchen before either could protest. “I’ll finish the dishes,” I called over my shoulder.
Only when I put my hands into the dishwater did I realize they were shaking. I knew Elton got annoyed that I wouldn’t talk to him—he used to get jealous of Smith sometimes.
I cringed—the “used to” sent a knife through my heart.
Mom had finished most of the dishes, only the pots and pans were left. I went through them quickly but thoroughly, running on adrenaline. Just as I put away the last pot, Mom came back into the kitchen with fresh tears on her face.
To my horror, she held out the phone to me.
“He wants to talk to you,” she said.
Unable to say no, I took it from her.
“Yeah?” I said slowly.
It took him a minute to say anything, and when he did, his voice was raw with pain.
“I am so sorry, Riki. I was being a jerk. I know this must be really hard for you especially because of Smith. I know you only talk to him, but if you need to talk, I’m here to listen, okay? Will you at least consider it?”
The lump in my throat only allowed me to whisper, “Okay,” but he heard and that’s all he needed. I handed the phone back to my mom. I wanted to run, but there was nowhere to run to—Cashel still sat in the tire swing and Emma’s presence hovered in my room.
I retreated to the living room and turned on the television.
A lot of my friends at school had their own TV’s in their rooms, but we only had one in our house. Mom and Dad said that’s all we needed. I knew I wouldn’t be alone for long. Sure enough, Dad came through the door within five minutes. I was still flipping through channels, unable even to concentrate on what shows were on.
“Whatcha watchin’, sweet pea?” he asked.
“Nuthin’.”
He sat down in the recliner with a sigh. He still wore his dress pants, but he’d taken off his dress shirt and now wore only his untucked white T-shirt.
“Why don’t ya’ turn it to the news?”
I turned it to NBC, which I knew was his favorite station for news, and tossed the remote on the coffee table. I kicked my sneakers off and tucked my feet underneath me. I stared at the television, unseeing. I was grateful for my Dad’s normalcy, but it confused me. How could he be acting like nothing was wrong? This was a pretty big thing, wasn’t it?
Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe Smith and Enid just needed a little time apart. Maybe we emotional girls were blowing this out of proportion.
But what if we weren’t?