Chapter Text
Saturday, July 26th
It was a dream.
I hope it was a dream.
It felt so real – that was the weird thing. It was all black at first, but I was still able to feel a soft material under my legs and my hands. It felt smooth and plushy, and was probably stupidly expensive. Not that it mattered who could afford it in a dream.
I tried looking through the darkness, at my legs, at whatever I was sitting on, at anything , but it was all that same complete darkness. I tried to pinch myself, since my brain probably screwed up at dreaming, along with a lot of other things, but as soon as I found a good tight part of my skin, there was a noise that sounded throughout the room. Something that sounded like a small semi-auto pistol cocking, with more echo, like it was infinitely far away. I saw lights ahead of me – four of them, spread out in a line in the darkness. It felt...weird. Like I was being watched, or presented, or...something. They shone down in front of me, revealing the entire room.
I was sitting on a light purple couch, one without arms, for some reason, in a room covered in drapes, colored an unearthly blue – the kind of blue that you only see at the bottom of an ocean or in the Artic sky. There were a few bookshelves on the side of the room, made out of black wood, with those books inside that same strange blue color. On the opposite side of the room where I was sitting was a dark purple – maybe black, actually – armchair, and behind it was…darkness. It was like the light simply ended behind the chair – or, maybe more possible, there wasn’t a wall behind it. There was a small table in the middle of the room, about the height of halfway up my leg – and since I’m, like, five feet tall, it was pretty short. The floor of where I was didn’t seem to exist – well, I could feel a floor with my shoe, something hard keeping me from falling, but underneath it was transparent. I guess it was glass. Everything that touched the floor – the legs of my couch, the table, the armchair – all seemed to extend downwards into the darkness. The bookshelves and drapes seemed to go on forever.
I looked around for anything to do, since this wasn’t a fun dream without people to talk to and shout gibberish at me, or giant monsters to run from, or guns to shoot. Anything would be better than what was going on in my real life. I prepared to pinch myself again – finding that one good spot on my skinny arm was easier to do in light, but I heard that same cocking noise from above, and when I looked up to see what was going on, and I jumped.
In front of me were two people. Two men. One of them was…actually, I wasn’t sure if he was even human . His face was round, almost spherical, and his eyes were bulging out of his skull, bloodshot and cartoon-y. His nose was huge, jutting out of his face like a missile, and the only hairs on his head were a unibrow and a shaggy strip of white around the back of his skull. He was wearing a black suit that fit his scrawny frame perfectly. I yelped when I saw him – he looked crazy, and that big grin he had...didn't help me think to well of him. The other man – who looked more like a human, thankfully, was absurdly tall and bulky-looking, his jaw square and manly, his hair short on his head like a military cut, and he had a large scar on his forehead, straight and narrow. His face was...weathered and tired-looking. Silent and sturdy. He was wearing a blue sort of button-up shirt with circles on it, a black bowtie, and black pants, and he was standing straight, with his arms crossed, looking straight forward, eyes closed. After seeing these two guys, I did what anybody else would do – pinch myself until I woke up. It didn’t work. Why wasn’t it working? I didn’t know what these dudes would do. I didn’t even know why I’m here! I just had to wake up! Wake up, wake up wake up wake up wake up wak
“Welcome to the Velvet Room. ” the creepy weirdo said, his voice calm and smooth, but still…I don’t know. It sounded like a cartoon, inhuman, creepily calm.
I looked around, trying to figure out who he was talking to. Did anyone else show up with these two guys? I wish it wasn’t me. I hoped it wasn’t me.
It was me.
“My name is Igor. It is a pleasure to meet you, young lady,” he – it – Igor – whatever waved his hands, showing off the place I was in. “This is a room that exists in the planes between dimensions, between Heaven and Earth, the real and the imaginary….only a select few may enter, those chosen, those awaiting a spectacular fate. Now…may I ask for a name?”
I gulped a little bit. I didn’t know what this ‘Igor’ dude wanted. But…this was a dream. This couldn’t exist. Nobody looked like that. It didn’t matter. I chewed beneath my lip for a second before answering with my name. “Julie…Boucher…” I mumbled, sort of hoping that he’d hear it.
“I see…well, now that you have arrived, it is time for your sessions to begin. Consider this your first appointment. Now, how about we play a little game? To get to…know each other better…”
He reached into the inside of his suit with a gloved hand and pulled out a deck of blue cards, then it…just…disappeared in a flash of bright light, and three of the cards appeared on the short table. Dreams can do this sort of stuff, I guess. Though, if it was a dream, then how come I felt the light he made hit my eyes so hard? I rubbed my eyelids a little bit, feeling warmth on the flesh.
“Tarot cards. Your past, your present, and your future. Three cards, three truths…admittedly, a very simple spread, but a quite telling one.”
He gestured towards the first card on the table, and it flipped over without any hesitation. On it was a drawing of something that looked like a spear pointing downward, with little spikes popping out of it – or, maybe they were flowers? I looked up at the tall man, and he was still looking ahead with his eyes closed..
“Your past…the reversed Hierophant. A sign of rebelling against a norm, or against a society, and to examine how you handle situations…”
How'd he know what it was without opening his...
I sighed and nodded. I shouldn't be trying to make sense of this.
The card slowly fell onto the table, and he gestured towards the second card. It flipped over and hovered in the air a little bit. The card that showed was…a skull on a door. That...wasn’t very good. But...I shouldn't let a fake card get in the way of...
Who am I kidding? This is a nightmare.
“Present…Death," he chuckled as I tried to shrink up in the chair. "Be not afraid...it is simply a card representing the verge of a transformation, a transition, a new chapter. Very interesting.”
The card gently went back onto the table, and Igor flipped up the final card. It was an old Roman soldier in a chariot.
“Your future…the Chariot,” Igor stated. I could’ve figured that out. “To stay vigilant towards your goal, to gather and use all resources to get where you wish to go…”
Igor waved his hand calmly, and all the cards disappeared in a flash of blue light. “Curious…while you have had troubles with society and tried to revolt in the past, you will soon start a new chapter in your life. A new goal will present itself in the future, where you must become strong to achieve it,” he closed his eyes for a second. His toothy smile was still there, creepily enough, and when he opened his eyes, it felt like he was staring right into my soul with my beady pupils, like he was trying to figure out if what he said was true. “I look forward to our sessions in the future. You seem like quite the…intriguing patient.
He extended his hand toward the large man behind him. "This is my compatriot, Boris. He will assist in your journey, much like I will. Now, Boris, do you wish to introduce yourself?"
‘Boris’ opened his eyes, revealing a pair of bright and almost shining yellow irises. He looked at me hard, like he was sizing me up. “Hello,” he grunted, his voice heavy and low, like a truck engine. “I am happy to meet you.” He didn’t smile, just grimaced. At me.
“I hope this will set the tone for sessions to come, however, I’m afraid we’re all out of time for this meeting,” Igor said, still without any emotion in her voice. “Though, I assure you, we will meet again. We will see if your tarot predictions come true - and they always do. Now, Boris, if you may do the honors…”
Boris nodded, and a long black rope descended from the ceiling, though when I looked up at it, it seemed to just have come out from in-between the seams in the drapes. Boris grabbed ahold of the rope with a single ungloved hand, and slowly pulled it downwards, like he was ringing church bells, and, with that same cocking noise, all the lights turned off.
My eyes burst open. I felt another soft material under my hands, but…cheaper. In front of me was a grey cushion. In my lap was a self-help book for teens that my mom bought me for reading material. On the cushion next to me was a book on the weapons of the World Wars that I had brought as reading material, placed above a black MilSurp backpack.
Wait, why am I acting surprised? I know where I am.
I looked to my left, and I saw a wall rising above the street, with trees planted on the ground above it. You’d never see that kind of scenery in Tennessee. Maybe Maryland or Virginia or New York or Massachusetts. Not that I'd know, but still, it narrowed it down a little bit, I guessed. I couldn’t tell where the sun was in the sky. I forgot how long I've been on the bus, but I was able to take comfort that it was the last stretch between here and Massachusetts. My phone in my pocket probably had the answers, so I pulled it out and unlocked it. My mother had sent me a few texts at 0900 and 1100. It was now 1300. They were fairly simple;
How is the bus? Did you get any sleep? Did you eat?
Please send pictures!
I sighed. Pictures of what? Bus? I sent back, not sure what she meant. Though, I did feel a little bit hungry…I put my phone on my armrest, and opened up my backpack. I had packed three granola bars, a bag of NUTral chili-lime peanuts, some Puppy Treats cookies, a homemade vegan pita carefully wrapped in plastic inside a tupperware container, and a few MREs of different varieties that I don’t think I could prepare on the bus without drawing some attention. I could probably rip them open and eat the chocolate bars and crackers inside, though I don’t want to ruin them until I actually eat them when I got to Massachusetts. My big, silver flask still looked like it had most of its tea in it – I wanted to make that lasted, since it would probably be the last bit of actual sunbrewed unsweetened tea I could actually get before I got to my destination.
My phone buzzed again. Of Lydon, LOL! It’s been a while since I been there. Where are you?
I checked my maps app. Massachusetts , I texted back, then I plugged in Lydon’s location on it. We were approaching a bridge in about ten minutes that would take us to the island. 45 minutes away
I’ll text Rowan, call me when you get dropped off
I sent back a simple ok, and then looked out the window again. We were out of the recessed highway, by the looks of it. Still surrounded by trees.
I was 45 minutes away from what would probably be a really stupid year. But it’d still be better than the last six years of middle and high school.
I sighed. If only I didn’t…
I exhaled. Don’t think about that.
I read the book in my lap in order to pass the time quickly. If nothing else, it made my eyes glaze off the page. Stuff about ‘assertiveness’ and ‘depression’ and ‘bullying’. I already knew all that stuff. I’ve been through it. I’d much rather read about the world’s quietest carbine, developed by a British engineer, but I had promised Mom I’d read this whole thing before I got there. I was almost halfway through. I skipped a few pages, boring stuff about successful habits and turning in homework on time, which I never had any trouble with beforehand, but oh well. I hastily ate my pita, getting hiccups in the process – again, oh well. I felt tired, since I had only slept for what felt like four hours when I’ve been awake since 2000 last night, so I did have to struggle a little bit to keep my eyes open through the absolute banality of everything. Oh well.
At one point, I heard the wheels of the bus sound like they were going over a bridge, or something like that. Almost there.
By the time I had got to the back cover of the book and had learned absolutely nothing, we were already entering a town, with colorful brick houses, brick buildings packed closely together, trees, etc. All of them were shorter than three stories. It looked the same as a lot of towns in Tennessee, maybe less colorful and with less trees, though, and the buildings were probably older. Maybe even from the Revolutionary War, though obviously with a new coat of paint. I opened the window a little bit (though I had to get out of my seat to do it), and breathed in the smell of salt and wood bark. That was different. Really different. It still didn’t make me feel better…well, maybe a little bit.
After about five or so more minutes of driving, we reached a bus station. Small, not very packed. There was only one other bus there, and it was from a different brand that I’ve never heard of. We parked underneath a plastic roof, and the door opened. I was the only person to get off, thankfully – no hustle nor bustle – and I walked into the strangely relaxing ocean-smelling air with my backpack on and two suitcases in either hand. I was the only person outside, and after a few minutes, the bus pulled out. I was waiting for someone – who, I barely knew.
I walked inside the terminal, colored clean white with a reception desk and a few vending machines, found a bench, sat down, and pulled out my phone. I had a new text message, from Rowan. I didn’t assign him a contact image yet, so I was a bit confused as to who he was before I remembered. In front of building.
I sighed. I literally just sat down! After all that time on the bus, though...
Oh well.
I should get up.
After gathering all my junk and struggling a bit with it – as any five-foot tall girl would with suitcases that almost dragged against the ground – I walked out of the building, finding a sparse parking lot and one or two people walking around. One of them looked remarkably familiar, or, at least, I saw his picture once, and we did a few video chats, so I sort of recognized him. I guess.
He had on a polo shirt, a pair of slacks, and glasses, with his short, dark brown hair that almost matched my shade of inky black. He looked like Rowan, and remarkably friendly for a lawyer.
Rowan was looking around the parking lot next to a brown subcompact car that I had guessed was his. His eyes fell on me, grinned, and started walking towards me, like he was a friend who just happened to see me in the store. “Julie?”
I smiled, still somewhat struggling with my luggage.
“Oh, here, let me help you with that,” he said, gesturing for me to hand over the brown leather suitcase I had, and I carefully passed it over. He carried it without much effort over to his car, pressed a button on his keys, the trunk opened, and he placed it inside. “Was the trip good?”
“Long.” I responded quickly. 33 hours. No time to stop at a hotel. About an hour at each bus station along the way to sit in the corner and try not to attract the eye of anyone.
“Well, you’re going through six states…” he remarked as I put my other case inside the car’s back, and he put his hand to his chin. “Let’s see, the last time I saw you was when you were two, and…how old are you now?”
“Seventeen.” I answered, looking down. Everyone always confused me for an elementary schooler, and I always had to give that answer. I hated it, but at least he asked for my age.
“Well! It didn’t feel like that long…” he chuckled awkwardly. “That’s what happens when you grow older, I guess. How has Janice been? And Monty? Oh, sorry, your mom and dad.”
I knew what my parent’s names were. “Fine. Still in Tennessee.”
‘I see…” he paused, scratching his neck. I think he got on that I didn’t really feel like talking. “How about we get to my house, huh? I bet you’re tired and hungry. Not a good combination!” he laughed again, still awkwardly.
I nodded, and he unlocked the car using his keys. I got in, looking at the clean leather interior and the top-of-the-line electronics. Rowan entered, ignited the engine, and pulled out of the parking lot, asphalt rumbling under the tires.
“So, what has your mother been telling you about me?” he asked, innocently.
I thought for a moment, my arm resting on the armrest in the door, and my hand on my chin. I looked out the window at the old buildings, and I think I could see the ocean from where we were. Kind of neat. I felt…grumpy, for some reason. Probably just another dumb mood swing. “Not much.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s true. Janice always had the biggest mouth at the old Lydon High. Even now, she’s always telling me about what her friends did and who said what…calling me, texting me…”
Oh. I forgot to call my mom...I guess that could wait until we got to Rowan’s house.
A few minutes passed. “Are you looking forward to this year?”
I shrugged, maybe a bit apathetically.
“Well, Chelsea High is the best around, so that’s going to be miles ahead of your old school. Especially without, uh…” he sighed, letting me mentally fill in the blanks, then resumed talking in that awkwardly happy tone. “Well, I'm sure it'll be better here. Say, uh,” he coughed awkwardly, obviously trying to get off a subject I didn't want to talk too much about. "Was there anything you wanted to know about me?"
“Uh...what do you do for work?” I mumbled, still kind of unsure. “I know you’re a lawyer…”
“Oh, I’m a family lawyer at a local firm. It’s mostly a lot of child custody and divorces, but…its good work. Good for the soul. Helping people move on from the bad parts of their lives.” I had a hard time believing him.
Another few minutes passed. We were deeper into town, I think. I couldn’t see the ocean anymore. There was a few more modern-looking buildings, mostly open-faced restaurants and stores. Still a lot of trees, and still a lot of brick. I briefly envisioned myself leaning out of the window and shooting up the windows of buildings with a 9x19mm submachine gun, preferably one with a suppressor or a bullpup configuration, but Rowan stopped my imagination with a few words.
“So, did your mom tell you you’re going to summer school?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s the tail end of it, but you’ll still be learning a fair bit. Only two classes, both around two hours long. It was my friend Naveen’s idea – he’s going to be your English teacher for your class, and probably for the school year, too. He said it’d get you used to the high scho-oh, there it is!”
He pointed out to a building that looked like a bunch of rectangles smushed together, almost surrounded on all sides by smaller buildings except for where there were parking lots, and a space across the street with more, smaller, longer buildings. There were a ton of windows, and a tall tower in the center. There was an LED – actual LED – sign out front with a few messages, mostly telling me to have a good summer. I didn’t think I would, though it was sort of hard not to be impressed by it. My old school in Knoxville only had a letterboard like a fast food joint.
“Looks cool.” I mumbled again.
“That’s only half of it. They have a sports complex across the street. Like I said, it’s the best in the county by a mile or two.”
Sports complex? I've never heard of anything like that. Not that I’d use it. I never go to the games or play on any teams.
“It’s a bit of a nightmare to walk around it, honestly. Again, that’s why Naveen said you should take summer school. Plus, you’d get to meet a lot of new friends!”
I doubted that.
The town kept rolling by. He kept turning and twisting around the streets – in Tennessee, it was just straight lines. People always told me New England cities were weird. There were old wooden buildings, with long stretches of grass and trees, mixed with brick buildings with stores on the ground floor, mixed with pretty town houses colored blue and white with big front porches. Soon, the brick stores gave way to two-story townhomes, all alike, sort of like a suburb. We slowed down when we reached one, painted a calm grassy green, with a big sun room in front in lieu of a porch, and an additional story on top. He checked his mirror, then parked in a driveway next to the house. There wasn't a garage.
“Here’s home! 14 Longshore Drive,” he sighed, looked at me, and smiled. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”
He got out, I heard the trunk open, and by the time I got to the back of the car, walking in that slightly salty air, he had both of my suitcases in his hands. Good on him, I guess. I put on my backpack and followed him to the front door, which he unlocked.
The sunroom was okay. There were a few lawn chairs and a big swinging couch hanging from a frame. A lot of people in the South had them, and my family did, too. I noticed that none of the other houses had them here, though, but as if he read my mind…
“Added this room myself. Got rid of the porch. Janice always showed me yours, and I thought it looked like a really nice addition…” he set one piece of luggage down, unlocked his front door, and slowly nudged it open with his foot.
The house looked…okay. It was painted a pretty good white. To the left of the door was a stairway leading up, to the right was a living room, I think, with a sunken floor, two couches, a recliner, all three made out of blue fabric, though not the same color as the ones in me…never mind. There was aa large coffee table, a bookshelf, and a decent flat-screen in a red cabinet. Down the way a little, I could see half of a dining room table, and to the left of the living room-looking thing was more house. Rowan set my suitcases down by the stairwell and dusted his hands off on his slacks a little bit.
“This is the TV room. Well, not really a ‘room’, but…anyway…down that way is the computer room and the bathroom…” he walked down a little bit, not towards the area that he pointed out, and I followed him into what I guess was the kitchen. To the left was that dining room table, six chairs around it and a centerpiece of fruit in a bowl, and more house beyond that. To the right was a kitchen with counters going around the walls and somewhat halfway across the floor, a stainless steel refrigerator, and a clean, flat oven. There were a few windows along the wall that showed a small lawn, along with a glass door. “Pretty nice, huh? Usually keep the fridge stocked with some good stuff. And I cook every night. Try to, at least.” He chuckled a little bit, then walked down, back towards the stairwell, picked up my suitcases, and started walking up the stairs. I did, too.
The upstairs was a long hallway, with four doors inside. Rowan pointed to the one at the far end of the hallway. “There’s the other bathroom…and this is your room.” He opened a door on the right side of the hallway, and inside was a completely clean bedroom painted this egg-yolk yellow color. At the far end of the room was my bed, long side against the wall, with a dresser against it, another one next to the door, a hamer in the corner, and a window that looked out onto the street and directly at another house. There was an older TV on a square cabinet, and a blue bean bag on the ground. I can’t remember the last time I sat in one of those. Rowan set my stuff on the bed, and then smiled. “Go ahead and unpack. I’ll try to get lunch set up,” he was almost out the door when he poked himself back in. “Oh, also, Naveen, that English teacher I told you about, he’ll be around in a little bit to drop off a textbook for you and catch you up to speed on what you’ll be talking about in class. Come downstairs when you’re done!” he smiled again, and left, not closing the door. He seemed like a cool guy to talk to. I mean, if he’s who I’m staying with…it…might not be too bad.
I went to work unpacking everything. I had brought mostly shirts and nice pants, and only two pairs of jeans, along with two jackets of different thickness. I didn’t know how bad the New England winter would be, but this might have to do. The few books I brought with me, mostly historical picture galleries and a blank journal my mom bought for me, went on top of the dresser. I put my laptop on the floor next to the TV, near the only easily accessible power strip, along with the charger.
I still felt like…this mixture of anger and boredom and annoyance at everything. Every little thing. The sun was too bright. The walls of my room were ugly. The bed didn’t seem very…actually, no, it was spongy. I liked spongy.
I sat on the bed for a little bit.
An entire year here.
I looked out the window of the room for a few minutes. I could barely sea blue ocean above the trees.
Welcome to Lydon, I guess…