The Traversing Book I

Chapter 1

Late May, 2168

Connecticut

Spring in Connecticut has finally arrived. New England is such a pretty place to live, but we had so much snow this past winter, I couldn't wait for the green lawns and sweet, fresh breeze. I live in Bridgeport, and have my whole life. It is comfort to me. As you look around, the skyline of Bridgeport is very flat, with the exception of some forest of trees that surround the schools and along the highways. To make things seem more normal I guess. There are strict city codes in Connecticut, and I'm thinking every state, that there cannot be any buildings or trees in rural areas above a certain height because everyone now relies on solar energy to run everything, and there can be no blockage of the sun's powerful rays.

I find myself looking down at my house and all the flowers out front, all carefully manicured, looking bright and pretty. A cute square sign that says "MORROW" on it was sticking from a post in the dirt by the front steps. Just like how Mom left it. I think I must be dreaming, and I never want to wake up. I feel a gentle tug, and realize my mother is leading me across the street into the wildflower fields. We are running and laughing, and one of my pink flip-flops slips off and goes flying behind me. I instantly feel the soft dewiness of the grass between my toes. We both stop suddenly, breathless, and fall down dramatically on the ground and laugh. I lay there in the grass and look over to my mother. Her dark hair is spilling over her shoulders, her dark brown eyes scanning the sky.

"I love you," I say to her and smile. She looks over to me and grabs a piece of my dark red hair in her fingers. "I love you too, Kokia."

All of a sudden I am jolted awake by a loud blaring sound, and I realize it is my alarm clock beeping, telling me to get up out of my warm bed. I swing my feet around, and end up throwing my soft pink comforter across the floor in protest. I got up from my bed, my feet stepping on my clothes from yesterday, and I kick them with my foot. My room is not in the best of shape, I admit it, and I have never been accused of being neat. I turn around to look at my reflection in the mirror, and instantly wished I hadn't. I looked haggard and sleep deprived. I turn away from the mirror and walked over to my closet and opened the door. Before me was a disheveled mess. There were more clothes on the floor than on hangers, and I honestly didn't know which ones were clean or dirty. I just grabbed some jeans from one of the piles and then plucked my favorite bright red short sleeved shirt off of a hanger. I got dressed in a hurry and went out to the kitchen to see my 8 year old little sister, Sepa, sitting at the breakfast nook eating a bowl of cereal. Our father was already at the table reading his newspaper, which he intermittently folded down so he could drink his coffee.

"Hey Kokia," my Dad said to me, his smiling eyes peeking at me from behind the paper.

My Dad was so easy going and has done so well with Sepa and I after our mother died. There were some dark times, but Dad always made us feel secure as a family and did the best he could as a single father. But the missing her never goes away.

"Welcome to the land of the living," my Dad joked with me as he got up from his chair, tossing the newspaper on the table. "Looks like rain girls, so I am going to go out early to try and beat it. Have a good day!" he says as he looks at the incoming gray skies through the window. He grabs his briefcase that was leaning against the table and takes one last swig of his coffee before putting it in the sink of dirty dishes. "Love you!" he yells to us as he opens the door and walks down the steps and quickly gets in his car.

"Bye Daddy!" I say to him right before he is out of earshot. Sepa turned her head and looked at me with a big frown. She liked us to spend a little time together before school, and I have been neglectful of that lately. Especially since I started dating Trast. I run into the bathroom and pick up my squishy blue brush and pull it through my tangled hair. I had to tug to pull through the knots that I allowed to happen last night. I toss and turn a lot in bed, unable to sleep sometimes since my mother's death. We were never really told why or how she died. She worked for American intelligence, and everything is secret and not available to anyone, not even family.