There was no God. Jolie was sure of it. There could not possibly be a God. For if there was a God, then why didn't her father get better? Why was her mommy still out of work? And why was she still so hungry?
There was no God.
Jolie was only seven, and while bright and precocious, her intelligence and natural curiosity was over shadowed by the poorness of her family. Her shabby clothes, obviously third time hand-me-downs, marked her. And as the teachers knew at the clean, gleaming school that Jolie went to - that meant that she had to also be dumb.
The other children, with their crisp clothes, their neat hair, and clean nails were doted on by their teacher. Jolie was not.
I'm Huckleberry Finn, Jolie told herself. I will go on adventures that they will never know! I will meet a Dauphin and see the world. They will be forever trapped in this godless, sterile hell.
Oh, the teacher was never cruel to Jolie. She was a kind and caring woman. But she had her prejudices, as all people do, and once she heard Jolie's drawling accent and saw the grimy clothes, she immediately wrote Jolie off. And while always kind and patient with Jolie, the teacher spent most of her time and energy making sure that the clean, polite children, with parents on the PTA were the ones that got most of her attention.
So Jolie's percociousness was taken for being a smart mouth and often punished. It didn't hinder her curiosity a single bit, but she did learn to be more cautious and wiser about when to pick her fights.
However, already she was getting a reputation for being a troublemaker, and even the kind teacher was ready to give up all of her meager hope for her.
"Oh Jolie! Why can't you be good?" she would plead, wondering if Jolie was removed from her family, and raised by decent, hardworking parents she would become a credit to society, rather then the leach she was quickly becoming, "would you please stop fighting with the boys?"
"It wasn't me," Jolie would say, trying to make her teacher understand. It was the boys that would usually pick on her. Generally at the urgings of the other girls who wouldn't let her play with them. "Too smelly" they would cry, and then make the boys, whom they had the benefit of playing with after school, and who all knew each other through camp, and parents and neighborhood cookouts, tease and torment her.
"But it wasn't my fault!" Jolie would cry. But the teacher, so sure that the angels that she spent most of her time on, would never be so cruel, would just admonish Jolie further. The injustice of it all burned in Jolie's soul, and soon she stopped protesting.
"Impertinent", "sulky", "petulant", said the school councilors, after they couldn't coax Jolie to trust their smarmy smiles and fake affection. Everyone decided that Jolie was a lost cause. Her family and background working against her. Her father had not worked since she had been born, because of a "disability", and her mother's fiery temper was forever getting her fired.
So that's how Jolie came to be up on the little hill behind the trailer that was her home. She liked coming here, all quiet and peaceful. No one yelling or crying. No pressure on her to explain why everything was her fault. She was just seven after all. And she needed silence in her life.
Jolie looked up at the stars, twinkling. She knew that stars were nothing more then balls of gas. She read about those in one of the books that were in her classroom that her teacher didn't think she was smart enough to read. Long resigned to the fact that she would be forever overlooked as smart and any chance of her being able to change these people's mind about her was long lost. So she just quietly read the books on her own, which she liked better then listen to the teacher drone on about stuff that she didn't really care about.
Without anyone to tell her the books were too hard for her, Jolie read everything, things from Robinson Crusoe to Alice in Wonderland, to Cosmopolitan and Newsweek. The teachers never noticed. She was busy teaching the bright young minds in her class. And as long as Jolie was quiet and good, no one ever noticed.
Unbidden, tears rolled down her face. Jolie wasn't sure why she was so sad, but she just had to cry. There was something wrong with her young life, something different, and she didn’t know what. She knew there was something wrong, but she couldn't pinpoint it, nor could she do anything about it, even if she could.
She stayed out on the little hill, well past her classmates' bed times. Finally, the cold of the night, and the gnawing of her stomach made her stand up and head on back to her home. She hoped that her mommy was asleep. Both she and her father had been drinking earlier in the day, and when they reeked of alcohol, Jolie knew better then to get in their way.
As she started down the hill, she noticed that something was not quite right. The trailer was glowing! It was not the soft gentle glow of homes that she had seen on television. Besides, the trailer never looked like the inviting homes from television. Television, Jolie decided, was just like God. Neither one was real. But that still didn't explain the glow. As she got closer, she realized what it was!
A fire!
Jolie screamed. She raced down the hill as fast as her thin legs would carry her, screaming for help the entire way. As she got closer, she saw the red flames flicking and playing inside the trailer. She looked around. Her parents were no where to be found.
"Help! Please! Someone help!" Jolie screamed. The trailers around hers were all dark from sleep. Slowly one by one, the lights turned on.
"Shaddup! I'm trying to sleep!" called out one of her neighbors. A gruff drunk whose only hobby was kicking a mangy little black dog and yelling at the kids.
"Please! My house! It's on fire! Mommy! Daddy! Help!" she screamed.
"My lord!" Mrs. Beasly, a stout, gossipy, but kindly woman that always had cookies for Jolie yelled when she saw the flames crumple the cheap trailer's roof. "My God! Someone! Call the fire department! Hurry!
"Oh dear," moaned Mrs. Beasly, clumsily patting Jolie on her head. "It'll be all right, it will. You'll see."
Jolie watched the flames lick higher into the chill night air. There was now a large crowd surrounding the trailer, watching it burn. Not a single person made a move toward the trailer.
"Oh dear, oh dear," Mrs. Beasly continued to mutter, transfixed by the terribly beauty of the fire. Jolie stood and watched her home burn. She supposed that she was sad that her mother and father were dead, but in a way it seemed almost as if it was a relief. Until this moment, she had not realized how much of strangers they were to her. It was as if they were just people in the passing, although she saw them everyday.
She suddenly remembered the time that her father took her to the county fair and won her a goldfish. It was only last year, but it seemed like an eternity ago, like it happened in a dream. But she still didn't feel anything. They were just people on television. She didn't feel any sadness for them.
"Oh my poor girl," cried Mrs. Beasly, looking at Jolie with that sad woebegone face. She looked at the girl stare eyelessly at the still burning trailer. Oh the poor girl. She's in shock, thought Mrs. Beasly. What will happen to her? She patted Jolie again clumsily and wondered if she wanted a cookie. Children liked cookies. Cookies made everything better.
Jolie only half noticed when Mrs. Beasly left her side, to go into her own trailer to get the jar of cookies. She knew that Mrs. Beasly meant well, but she needed more comfort then Jolie did. She let out a sigh as she heard the wail of sirens from the fire trucks rush toward her. Dispassionately she allowed them to hustle her out of the way, as they doused the fire. She watched as two firemen in scruffy yellow jackets yelled something and pointed, as they rushed to disconnect the propane tank before it over heated and exploded. She watched and wondered if her stuffed bunny would have been lucky enough to be unscathed.
"Jolie," said Mrs. Beasly, in that voice that was trying to be kind but was bearing bad news. "Jolie, come with me. There are some very nice people that would like to talk to you. Come on Jolie. It'll be all right."
It won't be all right, Jolie though, but obediently allowed her to be dragged to the group of police cars, ambulances and firemen. Everyone was walking around, some trying to avoid the polices' attention; others trying to get as much attention as they can.
"Hello there," said a pretty blonde woman that was sitting in one of the police cars. "You must be Jolie. I'm Patsy."
Jolie looked at Patsy with slight disdain.
"Are you all right? Can you tell us what happened here?" Patsy continued brightly, ignoring Jolie's look.
"There was a fire," she replied, looking at Patsy as if she was retarded.
"I meant," Patsy said with a slight frown, "how did it start?"
"Don't know. Just did, I guess."
"Fires don’t just start, Jolie. What happened? What did you see?"
"Nothin' much," Jolie was starting to enjoy frustration this Patsy woman. "Just saw stars."
"Stars?"
"Yeah, stars. Yanno, those things in the sky?"
"I know what stars are!" Patsy nearly yelled, losing her patience, "what does that have to do with the fire?"
"Nothin'."
"Nothing? Then why are you telling me about stars?"
"'Cause you asked what I saw." At Patsy's expression, Jolie had a triumphant grin.
"Now, Jolie. Stop being difficult," scolded Mrs. Beasly. Jolie forgot that she was still there.
"Not being diffic't. She's the one that's askin' dumb questions."
Mrs. Beasly gave her another look. "Alright then missy. Tell Miss Patsy what happened. Come on girl, don't make me swat you!"
"Ma'am!" said Patsy, looking shocked, "we do not condone hitting children! Especially one that has been through so much. And…lost so much."
Both Jolie and Mrs. Beasly rolled their eyes. This Patsy woman was not very bright. Joie decided that she probably got away with all she could and besides, as nice as Mrs. Beasly could be, she could also get awful mean pretty quick.
"Well, I told her. I was up on the hill, lookin' at the stars. I got cold, and came back down. That's when I noticed the house all glowy and stuff, and when I figured it was fire, I yelled, and that's when you came out Mrs. Beasly." Jolie gave Mrs. Beasly a beatific smile. The pain of losing her home, her parents, all that she owned was temporarily suspended in light of this new game.
"What were you doing up on the hill this late at night?" asked Patsy sharply.
"Watching the stars. Momma and daddy had been drinking, and…"
"Oh, say no more! You poor thing!" Patsy's face had remorse all over it. To have been short with this poor girl! This child of alcoholics, who got away from the abuse by sitting alone in the dark, outside in the cold! Why it was nearly midnight! No child should be outdoors alone like this! "Well come with me, we'll find you a nice place to sleep and you won't need to be outside anymore."
"But I like watching the stars," wailed Jolie. She knew what was coming next. Once, when she was much younger, probably only three or so, her momma had run away from home. Her daddy was in such a rage that he nearly broke the trailer down. Social services had come and taken her away. She didn't remember those days too clearly, but she remembered that she was very scared and the people she stayed with smelled funny. Finally, her momma ran out of money and came back and brought her home. For the first time that night, Jolie started to cry.
She didn't want to leave! She could stay here just fine. For almost two years now, she had been making her own meals and washed her own clothes. She could live in the trailer all by herself. She didn't need anyone to take care of her.
"Now, now Jolie," Patsy consoled her, "don’t cry. You'll like it there. You'll get your own bedroom and make some new friends. You'll love it. Come on now Jolie, don't cry."
At this Jolie cried longer. She suddenly remembered the roof of the trailer crumpling like tissue under the fire, and thick blackened smoke that was still in the air. She had no home now. She didn't want to leave. Although people like Patsy look at Jolie's life in horror, it was all that Jolie knew and had. She knew that she did not fit in anywhere else. She barely fit in here.
Before she realized what she was doing, she turned around and ran away from Mrs. Beasly and Patsy. She ran into the hills, away from the still lingering crowds. She supposed that she should be scared, but she was too exhilarated to feel much else. She fought the urge to look back at the smoldering trailer and the gawkers and gossipers.
"Jolie! Jolie!" Patsy and Mrs. Beasly were calling after her. Her small lithe body ran up the hills, finding easy purchase in the rocky soil. Soon she heard the deeper voices of the men calling after her too. Jolie didn't look back, she kept on running up the hill and then past it into the wooded area that surrounded half of the trailer park.
Once there, she found a big thick tree with low hanging branches. With a gulp of breath, and disbelief at her own audacity, she climbed up the tree, quickly scaling up, higher and higher. Dark and still, Jolie held her breath; less her panting gave her away. Mrs. Beasly, Patsy and a burly police officer came into sight.
"Jolie!" they called, "Jolie! Come out! It's dark and it's cold! Come out! We'll make some hot chocolate. Wouldn't you like that?"
Jolie held still, half-afraid her grumbling stomach would give her away at the thought of chocolate. She shivered slightly, grabbing onto the tree trunk even tighter, the rough bark cutting into her skin. She wished she her jacket with her. But all of that was in the trailer with mommy and daddy.
"Jolie! Come out! We're not mad! Come out!" they called. Jolie shivered as the wind blew harder.
"Well, it doesn't look like she wants to come out," Mrs. Beasly said, annoyance in her kindly voice.
"We can't give up!" Pasty protested, "she's just a little girl!'
"It's too dark, and we can't see."
"But…"
"She right," agreed the cop. He shone his flashlight around, but never straight up into the tangle of branches and leaves, "we can't find her right now if she doesn't want to be found. We'll go and grab a couple of dogs and come back with some more men in an hour. The dogs will sniff her out."
"Jolie! Please come out Jolie! Jolie!" Pasty looked stubborn. She wasn't ready to let a bereaved little girl spend the night in the woods. Patsy took a few more steps and got entangled in a thorny bush. She looked at the cop and nodded. "Fine. We'll get the dogs. But hurry! She's so young! Anything can happen."
Jolie watched them go, and stayed up in the tree a while longer, in case it was a trick. After long minutes ticked by, and the brisk wind was making her skin crawl with goosebumps, she gingerly came down the tree, her muscles tight and aching from being in one position for so long.
Dogs. They were going to bring dogs. Jolie looked around. She couldn't go back the way she came, since they may still be looking for her. She looked up and saw the stars twinkling. She gingerly picked her way through the woods, until she emerged from the other side, and onto a road. Noticing incoming headlights, she quickly dodged back into the bush, afraid that it may be a cop or that annoying woman Patsy.
Jolie knew the kind of person that Patsy was. She was just like her pretty teacher in school. They always seemed concerned and told you that everything would be fine. But they lived a different life. They never go hungry, and they always had clean and new clothes to wear. Her anger at the injustice warmed her. She got up out of the bush and walked down the road.
It was rather like Huckleberry Finn, Jolie decided, and walked down the road, still cautious of cars, ready to duck into the bush at the first sign of headlights.
As Jolie walked the stars in the night sky traveled with her. The night air was still chill, but there were fewer trees and the wind was gentler. Still, it must have been several hours, and the soreness of her feet, and the heaviness of her eyes made her want to stop. She had stop hiding every time a car came, and her walk was dragging. Finally, tired beyond her abilities, Jolie sat down and closed her eyes.
"Why hello there, girly." Jolie awoke with a start. She was freezing and the darkness of the sky showed that it was just before dawn. A dirty fat man with bad breath was peering down at her. "Are ya lost?"
"N-n-no," Jolie stuttered. Both from fear and from the cold.
"Now girly, ye're freezing. Come on. Why dontcha ride in my truck," Jolie looked at the man and the big truck behind him. "I gots some snacks there, and a jacket you can wear."
"No. I'm fine," said Jolie, tempted to take his offer. She was incredibly cold and the peanut butter sandwich she had for dinner last night seem so long ago.
"Come on girly. I'm only offerin' ya a lift. Got a daughter 'bout your age. Come on girly."
The truck did look inviting, and Jolie was so very tired. She didn't like the way the trucker looked, nor the stench of his breath, but her need for warmth and food outweighed her caution.
Warily, she climbed into the seat and with a chuckle the trucker turned on the heat. He also tossed over to her some stale sandwiches. Jolie gobbled them up quickly. The warmth was giving her a sense of security, and she was still so tired. Slowly her eyes drooped and she fell asleep.
She was falling down a hole, her tired and scratched legs in bright white tights and her dirty grimy clothes replaced by a crisp blue dress. She landed in a chair with a long table in front of her, filled with the little pastries and treats that she had seen countless times on television and magazines.
"Have some more tea!" cried an odd rabbit with a teapot. "Can't have cakes without tea!"
Jolie looked at the teapot and noticed a mouse sleeping peacefully inside. She giggled and reached for one of the tempting pink little cakes.
"Come on girlie."
Jolie looked around, and saw nothing.
"Come on girlie. Come on."
Jolie looked around franticly, and saw the dark shadow that was looming over her!
"Stop!" she screamed, "go away!"
"Now, now girlie, come on, come on…"
The shadow got darker and closer. Jolie's heart began to race, something was wrong. It wasn't right. Jolie started to thrash about.
"Ow! Stop it girlie!"
Jolie opened her eyes, the old trucker was on top of her, rubbing the scratches on his arm.
"Dammit girlie, hold still!"
Jolie looked at the trucker wide-eyed. He was breathing hard and his shirt was off. The arm with the scratches along it was holding her down. Jolie took a deep breath to scream. The trucker anticipated this and covered her mouth with his smelly mouth. Struggling Jolie twisted and turned, crying and struggling. The trucker's breathing became harder as he undid his belt.
There is a God, Jolie thought, as her young body was violated, her insides felt as if scraped by sandpaper. She twisted and fought, but the trucker just grunted and his breathing got harder. Jolie screamed and the trucker hit her hard over the head. As she closed her eyes, and the world got dimmer, she didn't have enough energy to scream or fight anymore.
There is a God and he is the Mad Hatter.