Chapter 65 – Curiosity Killed My Caution

One of the worst things you can do if you want something, is to wish for it. No, I’m not talking about tossing off your idealism and your dreams, desires, or any of that. That’s a whole other discussion.

I mean the passivity of wishing. The emotional defeat of resorting to wishing. Wish for millions of dollars to make your problems go away (…because that always works). Wishing things were different. Wishing you had more time. Wishing in retrospect you hadn’t made utterly stupid choices. I’ve done all of those things.

So, what do you do? What you can.

Take yourself back many thousands of years. Humanity at the beginning. Depends on who you ask so far as how these first steps were taken. But let’s try this.

Africa, torn asunder by changes in climate and geology, makes life very difficult for those humans. Most die. But the survivors fight on. Some travel far and pretty much die out, this time.

I can only imagine that at some point one of these early people wished that their lives weren’t so shit, that things could be easier. Because, even then, people had what I am calling one of the worst things: They could imagine that which wasn’t there.

But that’s only the beginning. Imagining or wishing is just one step. You don’t get to a civilization of billions by wishing. You take your thoughts. You take whatever’s in your power, whether you know the full extent of it or not. And you act.

Then you fail. A lot. It can be paralyzing to fail. Everything you imagined, everything you dreamed, up in fading smoke, like the first efforts at fire. But you keep at it. You keep going. You keep trying and fighting and finding the tools, the knowledge, and the determination to take a thought and make it a reality.

So yeah, the worst thing you can do is resign yourself to wishing and the best thing you can do is turn it into willing.

Not to say that’s a particularly profound notion. It isn’t. It’s fairly obvious and easier to say than implement. But it’s one you need to remember.

For sixteen-year-old Kenzie, frozen by time and her parents’ stares, it would be a good nudge.

The television slipped into an old truck commercial as I backed against the wall and asserted, “It’s probably not about me.”

Yeah, it could be about a weapon found on campus or drugs. The report was vague enough. It didn’t have to be about a girl with unexplained powers to transform boys into girls.

Mom shook her head and declared, “Those administrators. I bet they told the news. So many people and they can’t keep their damn mouths shut about private things. And I do not trust that vice principal.”

Well, at least their focus wasn’t on my failings for the moment. Dad nodded with my mom’s words and added, “There was something off about him.”

I turned to creep away, but mom caught me, “No. Sit. Tell me everything you’ve blabbed in your classes.”

Her finger came down hard on an empty patch of cushion. I found my way to the spot with my hands in my lap. Dad scowled and glanced away. This was mom’s interrogation.

She leveled her head and indicted, “You told me you were careful. 'Careful' means you don’t say anything that other people don’t need to know about you or what’s going on. Were you careful?”

No use fighting. No use worming my way out. I’ve tried so many things through the years. She was convinced I’d done something wrong to bring this about and none of my words would dissuade her from that.

“Not as careful as I should’ve been.” I alternated between my feet and fleeting glimpses of mom’s hardened exterior.

To tell her all the ways I disappointed her would’ve taken well into the afternoon, so I kept it simple, “I mentioned what happened with that boy to a few close friends. I said that I wasn’t sure what happened. But it’s hard to sit anywhere in a classroom for long without weird stuff happening.”

Mom scoffed, “Close friends…You think any of those so-called friends there have your interests in mind? They would sell you out in an instant. You take care of yourself first. But you didn’t and now we pay for it.”

I wanted to defend my friends, light a fire inside myself, push back against my mom’s dismissal. But it was morning, and my mind was still waking up and absorbing all this. A listless excuse.

She demanded more. I looked to my dad. He sat far enough away with his hand touching his lips. He didn’t move his hand, but he looked back.

“I don’t remember everything I said. I went with what my teachers told me to do.”

Easing back, mom clutched the arms of her big chair. “The teachers. You don’t know who they might know. You be very careful. Keep your nose down. Don’t volunteer anything.”

Obedient nod. She closed her fingers and sighed. “This is a mess. But we can get out of it. You say nothing this week. Your friends ask, you say everything is fine and you listen to their big mouths instead. Your teachers ask, you do what they say but you keep to your work. If there are strangers or news people asking questions, you say you don’t know anything. And you say absolutely nothing to that vice principal. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

No tears. No clenched jaw. She could sense those and turn them against me. I looked at her. She wanted my eyes with my promise. I focused on feeling as defeated as possible. It wasn’t hard.

She inspected that, nodded, and said, “Take your shower and get ready for school.”

I took a little longer than usual with my shower. I deserved it.

Since there were no special clothing commands from mom, I dressed gray. Only once I had my clothes on did I realize it was Spirit Week.

What was the Monday theme? Summer was sure to be wearing it. I could only remember one of them was pajamas, but I wasn’t playing the odds.

Breakfast was standard but there was a ghost of the aroma Lea had conjured from the range. I held a breath of it, like a tangible stand-in for her.

Mom’s last words before she left were a harsh reiteration of, “Careful. Very careful. This whole week.”

Careful nod in response. She finished by drawing me in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. I could appreciate both once she was out the door. Dad shook his head a few times without words.

We left early. Didn’t matter. The line of cars from the nearest signals piled up on alternating sides of the road. We slipped through a crack.

Dad finally spoke as we merged with the walls of cars, “Like your mom said. You keep quiet this week. Especially with that Lea. Got it?”

Resigned nod by this point. I brushed some lingering sleepy from my eyes. Our first look at the parking lot showed nothing out of the ordinary. Mondays were often the busiest. This one looked normal.

No news vans. No people standing around. Nothing weird (…so far). Even the smokers out front were in usual attendance.

Dad gave me a scruffy hug and reiterated everything he’d said in exactly the same words. I nodded in the same way.

Outside the car, my stomach dropped about two miles below my feet. No reason for it. Well, one reason for it. One missing energetic, cheerful reason.

As dad drove away, I scanned the nearby crowds for Lea. Normal, black-haired Hispanic girl. That could describe a third of the people around me. I started towards the gym.

I considered heading towards Spanish but, with the crawling crowds, it would be faster to try the girl’s lockers first and then swing around the side of those classrooms.

Slipping along the edge of the tennis courts like usual, I suddenly stopped. Lea stood before me. I took a step back.

Her head was down, eyes locked on her feet. Her hair hung in a tangled mess. Her hands were balled and trembling like she wanted to clench them even tighter, but the flesh of her palms held her back. She wore loose, dark jeans, oversized black flannel, and charcoal-toned Vans.

“…Lea? Are you okay?”

No response. I curled my lips back as my face felt hot.

“…Wes?”

Slowly, as if the motion ached, Lea raised her head to look at me. Her cheeks were bitter red without tears. A pained scowl carved through her face.

“What did you do to me…?” Her words crackled.

I gripped the straps of my backpack for support.

“Did something happen?”

I felt paralyzed beyond what words came out of me. The fury on her face. The bitterness screaming from her. It had to be something truly terrible. My reckoning.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!” Her voice howled through the narrow corridor of fence and wall.

My knees wobbled. Her words were so harsh they seemed to rake at her throat to escape.

“I’m sorry!” The only thing to come to mind. Easily said. Followed with a whimper.

“Where did you send me?!”

The fear slipped under a current of confusion. “Send?”

I grappled for meaning but my thoughts were dashed by her next words.

“Beside the flood basin…you blasted me away. Somewhere else…”

My head gave the smallest of shakes.

“I don’t…I don’t understand. I helped you.”

She clenched her teeth. “You killed me! Then you did it again! And worse and WORSE!!”

I cupped my mouth. I wanted to close my eyes. I wanted to run away. I wanted all this to go away. No more…

Art by Alexis Rillera/Anirhapsodist