the light filters through the windows, and falls across me in thick stripes. my stomach looks like a tiger of shadow and light, asleep in the cave of blankets and sheets that is my bed. Early mornings are quiet, a time when everything is restlessly silent. i am awake before the sun, insomnia beating hard against my temples. many mornings i lie across the bed and close my eyes, while the sun slowly creeps towards my navel and travels across my body as it filters between the curtains. summer is especially important for morning thought, and sometimes i do not sleep for more than an hour. the sun helps me to forget about Lel, for an hour each morning. and while i want to remember her, i can’t without feeling a creeping, cold sickness.

in my sun-baked room, i lie in only my underclothes as it grows warmer. i can feel a rush of heat leap to my cheeks, and my head begins to pound so much that i have to close my eyes to impede a headache. the other occupants- my family- are beginning to wake up and will shortly leave the house for various destinations. their noises pull me away from my dreamy haze and wrap me in the dizzying world of suntan oil, floral print, and exhaust fumes. Mum and dad are awake and eating to the babbling radio, which swims in and out of bad reception. My sister is already on her way to a friend’s, and then to the lake to spend the day trailing along the edge of that water and pretending not to be interested in the boys out by the docks.

a sleepy paw touches my ankle, and Kitten stumbles up the bed towards me, flopping down beside my stomach in defeat. soon, i will get up and turn on the fan, sending waves of sweet air across the room to purify it. but i always miss the smell of sweat and the warm aroma of dirt from the potted plants, though the room is stifling without fresh air. Kitten purrs, her fur already stuck to my sweaty skin, and I am tempted to move her and release myself from the torture of too much padding. I don’t, of course. She is only this affectionate in the early mornings, and never during the day when she has more important things to do, such as ogle boy cats. I am sure that everyone is enticed by love in the summer- hot, long nights are sorry partners without another person.

…

everything began three weeks before school ended, and as i was graduating, i felt little need to actually attend. there is something to be said for failure, and it is that with failure comes the possibility of fun and excitement.

we skipped school and took the bus. i stretched out over the back seat, and my best friend, Lel, sat beside my head. The bus driver was kind, called me dear, and thanked me. We rode around for almost three hours, watching people get on and sit down, observing. when the bus was empty for a few minutes, two boys got on, and sat in front of me. the four of us took up an entire corner and a half of the bus, an L shape of dull, tired teenagers. i could feel my eyelids taking possession of my entire face, grappling to flop down over my eyes in defeat. Sleep won, and i drifted off, coming to when the bus gave a sudden jolt to hear Lel talking to one of the boys. Then I drift off again. It is when i wake up that I am confused, because Lel and the boys are gone. the bus is crawling through our smoky town, picking up students from bus stops close to the schools, dropping off mopey children in front of waiting parents. I scan the heads- mowhawk, red-blonde, a soapy blue that could have been Lel last year (this year’s version sports vibrant yellow) but no signs of my best friend. I can’t see the boys either- the bus has been mobbed by junior highschoolers- the most hated of all teenagers- who emit high pitched squawking noises designed to attract their mates (gawky, sweaty boys in baseball caps sprinkled with pimples in various stages of eruption.) I charged towards the front of the bus, and twist the sleeve of our driver in despair. seeing my wild eyes, he tells me that they got off of the bus over an hour ago. I slump back towards my seat, grabbing my bag from beside the imprint of my body. Lel’s backpack is there as well, and I feel a sudden sick pang of fear. Lele’s backpack is an extension of her body.

I grab the backpack and franticly press the "stop" button. As the bus slows to a halt, I am out the door in front of the jr. high snobs and down the street to Lel’s house. My sandals slap down the sidewalk, as though someone is running after me. I am beginning to lose air, and my breath comes in short, sharp gasps. I have not run this far since grade four, when i came second in the junior track competition. That was when i ran to please my classmates and because i thought maybe i would like to be a professional athlete. I stopped running when I grew breasts, for various reasons.

The block seems endless, and my face is alarmingly clammy, not the usual vibrant red colour it generally acquires in times of exertion. I make it to the gate when the ground comes zooming at me much too quickly for my liking. I close my eyes, and feel a very sharp pain before i lose all recognition.

Since it is the first time i have ever passed out, and i did not hit my head, the doctor attributes it to some sort of mental strain. I can hear his voice, deep and vibrating, as he explains all of this. my parents and Lel’s are hovering, looking concerned. Lel’s mother weeps "But she had Annabelle’s backpack" and i can’t remember who Annabelle is. and then… Oh yes, Lel is Annabelle. I sit up, only to be pushed back down. Frustration wells up.

"You rest, everything will be fine."

But it won’t. She’s gone. I open my mouth, only to be silenced by a slender finger (my mother’s.) "Quiet darling."

Mother never calls me darling. It won’t make me shut up, i’m determined now.

"No. She’s gone." The words are in a strange, slurred voice. An instant reaction. The adults swarm. They drag the story from my lips, reach down my throat to find the words, and pull them carefully out of me. I tell them everything, retch it back up, all of this disgusting business. When I am done, someone hands me a glass of water and a tiny pill with something engraved into it. The soupy living room (for that is where they have put me) fades after a few long minutes, and i sleep for years.

Actually, I sleep for a day. And when i awake, there is a deafening silence that pulses with my heart, contracting and retracting with every breath.

the ghosts under the eaves of my house watch silently as i climb out of bed. Looking around I realize that, the familiar room is mine, its walls decorated with writing and pictures. Lel drew most of them, crouched like an impatient tiger, holding a thin, twiggy paint brush in one hand. i wrote with a thick magic marker, in loops and swirls, surrounding her artwork. our pretty handprints dapple the low part of the ceiling, painted in long smudges above my bed.

I follow our hallway in a downward spiral, into the kitchen where dusty sunlight gives everything a fire-warmed glow. a glance at the calendar tells me that it is Tuesday, June 15^th. On a square three days away, a red circle and bright yellow letters spell out VACATION!!! I have already taken my exams- a special allowance as we are leaving before they begin. Were leaving, I don’t think I want to anymore. There is a note on the table, which tells me that I don’t have to attend school. I hadn’t planned to anyway, i wasn’t going back there because i had nothing to gain anymore. I have graduated, and everyone is reviewing; I have no interest in seeing any of them again.

There is a plate of strudels on beside the note. I take one, but the sticky icing that coats my fingers is repulsive, and i throw it back down, wiping my hand on the table cloth. The air is pulled taunt around my face, and i feel waves of nausea consuming me. Knowing that i am about to pass out, I fumble my way to the window seat, and flop onto the cushions just as the room darkens again.

The week continues like that, waking up and passing out, mother coming home to find me sprawled out on the floor or the couch. She is alarmed, doctors are called, and I am sentenced to bed for a week, no getting up except to go to the washroom.

"Do you feel the heartbeat, the rhythm, the pulse of his breath?"

"It is lost on me, the fantastic music of his voice"

"Try, try again. She’s buried in a shell, way out in the ocean."

"Oh Lel, run away. run now!"

Feet race off, covered in red socks that catch the light.