A marvelous story written by ElysiaBySammiKC! Check Out her Blog!
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When I was 10, my parents moved to a new town. It was a lot smaller than where we used to live and the kids weren‘t as friendly. I was bullied a lot because of the way I looked. Karey Lynn said my hair was too long and boring, Bailey Redd thought I was dumb because I didn‘t speak up, even the class nerd Thomas Black told me I should just stay home. Mom and Dad were too busy with work and raising my big Brother, who had “cute little issues” in his brain. He was retarded, is what most people told me. I knew it too. Until I was 8 and he was 10 I wasn‘t left alone with him cause he would hit me or do something dangerous. He got a little better when he started seeing a professional lady in the next town. He was the reason we had to move. Sometimes I liked to imagine that he was normal and he would ask me how my day was, tell me he would beat up anyone who bullied me, tug my hair without ripping it out, or even make fun of me. Mostly he just played with blocks.
They were those really big wooden ones with the letters and numbers. The kind babies use. He had four sets of them and would play with them. Mostly just nonsense words, even though Mom tried to teach him real words. He knew real words, he could communicate. Brother could tell everyone what he wanted, how he felt, if he was angry or hungry. Sometimes it would come out in screams, sometimes in whispers. Those blocks were the only way to play with him, but by the time we had moved I was too old to be playing with blocks, so I stopped.
The summer after we moved my Dad started giving me and my Brother an allowance. I had to get good grades or do chores, Brother just had to not make Mom upset or throw a tantrum. Whatever. I liked to buy ice cream with my money at the corner store and then climb up to tallest hill in the part next door. The ice cream would be melted by the time I got up there, so I would have to drink the sweet liquid from the packaging. It still tasted good. Then I would sit back and watch the clouds roll above me. I would imagine that there were shapes in them, like normal people sometimes do. It was really lonely and I would always go back home feeling sad when I saw my Brother making his nonsense blocks, and my Mom trying to work on her computer while cooking dinner. No one asked me how my day was or what I did. It was fine though.
One day there was a boy on my hill. He looked about my age, really normal. Except he looked a little frail, his pale face the color of the moon despite it being summer. Andrew Daniels from my class would tell me my skin was the color of wood because my parents wouldn‘t let me inside. At first I was extremely perturbed by the boys presence. This was MY spot. I had MY ice cream and I wanted to look at MY clouds. I felt rebellious. I sat down in my normal spot and ignored him, drinking my ice cream and staring into the sky. He didn‘t move or speak to me. I didn‘t look at him. He was still there when I left. He was also there when I got back the next day.
Why are you here? I asked him, irritated when he finally looked at me a smiled. He shrugged and pointed to the sky. He wouldn‘t speak to me no matter how much I talked to him. His facial expressions were how he would reply, also his body. He didn‘t tell me his name. I didn‘t tell him mine. If he went to our school he might have heard about me and run away. There was a part of me that wanted him to. This went on for days. Eventually I started buy two ice creams so we could drink them together. I would leave home earlier and return later, no mater what he was there before and after me. Every day I would complain to him and tell him about my life. He would let me talk as much as I wanted, always paying close attention to me.
I told Mom and Dad about my friend. They were happy for me because they knew I hadn’t made any in school yet. Yet. Brother gave me his “F” block for a few minutes after my story, but apparently he needed it to write “ Fhruey.” I continued to meet up with the boy all summer. We would lay close to each other and I would talk enough for the both of us, our ice cream soup lingering on my tongue as I pointed out shapes and stories in the clouds. On the days there weren’t any clouds I would bring a book and read it, pointing out pictures to him. He smiled a lot more the closer to the end of summer we got.
After school started he disappeared. He wasn’t a student either. I went back to having no one to talk to in school. I was still bullied. The next summer he was back. We both looked older. When I asked him where he went he just smiled and pointed at the sky. I stopped asking him questions because I was afraid he would leave. We did this for four whole summers, even though I made some “friends” in school. We ate lunch together and talked between classes. I was still bullied a lot because my Brother entered the school and people didn’t like him. I stood up for him though, despite the fact I was younger. Brother brought his blocks to school, which people would steal or intentionally mess up. He would get upset and start yelling, so the teachers would call for me to come and I would calm him down. Whenever he saw me he would get really happy and try to give me some of his blocks. I usually got upset and told him to stop playing with them at school or he’d never be left alone. Sometimes he would cry and I would have to calm him down all over again.
Dad started giving me bigger allowances for helping my Brother get home from school and settled. Mom was less stressed because she didn’t have to deal with Brother while she worked. I became his baby sitter during school time, so my parents would be less stressed. When I was 14 I began to become interested in things like my appearance, clothes, boys and girls. The boy on the hill didn’t seem to change much. He got older of course, but his clothing was plain and his hair cut the same.
Of course he didn‘t say anything when he saw me that summer, dolled up with makeup and new clothes. He just smiled like always. My Mom and Dad told me to invite him over. When I asked him he would shake him head apologetically. Of course it would have been pointless to ask him why. I was OK with it, our secret friendship. Maybe if my parents met him he would get scared or if he met my Brother he would be uncomfortable.
I still bought the ice cream for two, we still laid under the sun (although I began to wear sunblock), and we still watched the clouds. I began to notice things about the clouds. The shapes of the dragons, bunnies, cars, all became clearer. When I told a story with them they actually moved. The boy would get excited, watching as everything I said unfolded before us. After that fourth summer I decided to go back to the hill by myself and watch the clouds. He wasn’t there, of course, and the clouds were just normal fluffy balls of white. Nothing was special. He was never there when school was in session, maybe his family was only there during the summer? It made sense.
Right after I turned 15 and would be starting High School, my parents decided to move again. There was a special school for my Brother in the next state over, where he would be taught in a better environment. Brother seemed excited, he told us he liked adventures. I told him I hated them. I got really angry at my family. My Mom for always leaving Brother to me, ignoring my feelings, my Dad for always working, and my Brother for taking everything away from me. My parents explained to me, for what was one of thousands of time, that my Brother was special and needed special care. I screamed at them. I screamed at them like I was 10 again. I cried too. My Brother cried, crushing his blocks into us in hopes of placating. My parents pointed out I was upsetting him. I should be more cautious of my Brother.
So I ran away. If my Brother was so important to them, then they didn’t need me right? My idea of running away was to go to the hill. It was night and there weren’t any clouds. When I got to the top and saw the boy sitting there, I cried some more. He fumbled to my side, confused. He didn’t touch me, he never touched me. We sat down and I cried, hugging my knees to my chest, managing to tell him that I would be leaving. That I hated my family and didn’t want to leave. Of course he never replied. He just stared at me, sad and confused. I knew I wouldn’t be able to see him again when we moved. He would have to spend the summers alone. I would have to eat my ice cream and stare at the clouds by myself.
When I had calmed down we fell onto the ground close to each other, like we had for countless summer days. I picked out shapes in the stars and told their stories. We stayed there for hours, watching the moon move across the sky. I talked about everything I knew I wouldn’t get the chance to until I heard my name being called by my mom and dad. They would find me, we would go home and argue some more. I would apologize to my Brother and play with his blocks so he would be happy again. In a week we would move to a new home, and I would try to make friends. My eyes never left the stars above me when I reached my hand over to where the boy’s should have been. How long had I been aware of the fact he wasn’t really there? Maybe since the first day. Maybe not until that exact moment. It didn’t matter anymore. He was never real.
When I was 10, my parents moved to a new town. It was a lot smaller than where we used to live and the kids weren‘t as friendly. I was bullied a lot because of the way I looked. Karey Lynn said my hair was too long and boring, Bailey Redd thought I was dumb because I didn‘t speak up, even the class nerd Thomas Black told me I should just stay home. Mom and Dad were too busy with work and raising my big Brother, who had “cute little issues” in his brain. He was retarded, is what most people told me. I knew it too. Until I was 8 and he was 10 I wasn‘t left alone with him cause he would hit me or do something dangerous. He got a little better when he started seeing a professional lady in the…
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