Wind Damage

01. Stretch

Wind Damage

© Stephanie Penn 2013-14

01. Stretch

. . . . . . . . . .

               

        When I sneeze, a part of my soul escapes into the air. The particles travel faster and faster into the air, spiraling out and away.  I used to watch them fly away and do nothing to try to get those pieces of my soul back. I used to not care.

        But that was before I met her.

 . . .

        The earth’s heartbeat pulsed in sync alongside sneakers pounding on wet pavement. She, however, stayed still, as if waiting for a flat line.

        She sat on the cold metal bleachers, fidgeting with her damp shorts and sweater that seemed to envelop her. Every once and a while she’ll look up and fixate on the runners passing by her, one by one, as if longing to be one of them. Then, as quickly as she looked up, she would turn away, as if repulsed by the notion, and went back to fidgeting and shivering. Sometimes she would stop and stay as still as possible, fighting the cold until she grew red faced from holding her breath. She tried so hard to desperately stand still, as if maybe time would stop still if she did, but her efforts were in vain.

        Her slightest tremor shook the rickety metal bleachers that were so rusted over, the bench moved alongside with her from the exertion of pressure on the weak legs that barely supported the girl. It also squeaked like hell. My body tensed up each time she moved. It pissed me off like hell.

        “Can you not move around so much?” I said. My voice slightly echoed, and a few runners turned to stare at the sudden outburst.

        “Please,” I added much softer.

        She jumped and whipped her head fast with wide doe-like eyes, making the thousands of water droplets that struggled to hang on the side of the benches plummet to their deaths. “Sorry,” she said and stood still again, her face growing redder as she held her breath once more.

        Mara Meyers. Three months ago, she was a star student with the universal consensus that she was the best student that ever walked the school floors. Three months ago, she was a star athlete and had each team fighting over her recruitment. Three months ago, she was voted most likely to be the most successful person who even graduated from this crappy excuse of a hell hole disguised as one of the nation’s finest high schools. Three months ago, she had it all, and everyone wanted to be her friend, if not her. Three months ago, she was good at everything she touched and wouldn't be caught dead not participating in class, even if that class was gym class.

        Today, she was everything but.

        This year, she arrived at school a mess. Rumors indicated that she turned to drugs over the summer, like brother, like sister. I knew that wasn't the case.

        As a child, little Mara was always running away when she saw her brother’s friends come around. Little Mara, always turning up her nose whenever she saw us around. Little Mara, already sworn off drugs after countless nights of helping out a drunk or all doped up brother get inside the house. Besides, Ian already had said that it wasn't drugs that turned her into this.

        I sneezed. Loudly.

        She jumped again. Her mouth formed an O shape as she began to speak, “Bless-“