Dandelions - Chapter 6

You'll remember me
When the west wind moves
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Will's Point of View

The night seems a different universe altogether. Each turning, each dark corner, is a consequence of the happenings in daylight. But in daylight, things have significance. At night, each frosted, empty turning in the streets are just another damaged thing the world resents. It's so ugly, but that can't be helped.

The telephone box I'm looking for looks ominous where it stands, surrounded by trees, and the faint whir of police sirens the only distinct sound. There's probably addicts dealing in those woods behind the telephone box. I step inside and push the coin into the slot and dial a number.

It rings three times before someone picks up. 'Hello, this is Curnloe Institutionalized Security Unit, may I help you?'

The voice is gruff, masculine, doesn't suit the seemingly professional and courteous words that shapes it.

'I'd like to please register an appointment to see Cindy Vaughn.'

Silence.

Eventually, he speaks. 'What is your family connection?'

'I'm her brother.'

This time, the silence stretches many miles before shying away from a dirt road where the sun is angry.

'Name, please?'

'William Vaughn.'

'You will have to verify your identity when you attempt to visit your...sister.' My teeth bite together. 'When were you planning on coming?'

'Tuesday, four-thirty.'

'I've got it booked,' and then he says, rather robotically. 'Jewelry, silk, perfume, red, pink, yellow and orange clothin and make-up may not be work on the grounds.'

I take a deep breath in. 'Okay, thank you.'

I put the phone down before he's a chance to say anything else.

My teeth grit together, make clashing noises as I leave the telephone box. A car drives on the road at a steady pace, headlight brightening up the darkness. My breath shudders, and I speed my walk up to a light jog. The change in my pockets jingle.

It's as I'm turning into my road that I notice that the Hartley's light is on. It's late, well, technically it's early. 2 am. No one's light is on after I've come back from what I can my night-time strollings. I glance into their kitchen window as I walk past.

Mrs. Hartley is putting away dishes, and this is the first time I've seen her at ease. She's smiling, and it's a soft smile, an old smile. I notice that her husband's isn't in the driveway. That's why she's smiling.

But she knows, and I know, that he'll be back soon. I wonder if she's lonely now, or if she's afraid. Maybe both. And, almost exactly on cue with my thoughts, her smile fades. She looks out of the window, and she sees me.

She knows, and I know.
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Kalla's Point of View

There is a knock on my door, though it is open. The knocking sounds hollow, crisp. I look over to the door.

My father stands there, and he is smiling, but at the same time, he is not smiling. He is uncomfortable.

'Hi, Kalla,' he says.

'Hello.'

'Uh.' His back rolls, and he blinks towards my window. 'Can I come in?'

'Yes.'

He shuffles into the room, and I look around my bedroom, trying to see what he sees. There is a bed, currently unmade because I have just gotten up. My wardrobe is built into the wall, and a mirror acts as its door. There are fingerprints around the edges. A chest of drawers lies beside my bed. I look at my father.

'I saw this,' he says, and holds out a leaflet. I take it. Being advertised is the milkshake cafe, ten minutes walk away from my house. A pink, strawberry milkshake is enlarged on the front, with a coating of whipped cream. I look at my father.

'Well, I saw it and I thought that may be...' he shrugs, and his gray turtleneck rises higher over his throat. 'Maybe it's time for you to get a job.'

'At the milkshake cafe?'

'Well, that's what I was thinking, yes. But anywhere, really, in general. It's good practice.'

'Okay,' I say.

His face relaxes. 'Good. Maybe you can go this afternoon and see the manager. I'm sure there are spaces for waitresses.'

'Okay.'

He nods, uncomfortable again. 'Well, have a good day at school.'

'Okay.'
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The girl with the red hair is sitting in my chair again. I sit by the window.

While I am sitting down, I think of what all the other people in the world are doing. I wonder if they're crying. I wonder if they're okay. Perhaps flowers are dying right now, maybe and elderly man is, too. I wonder what he's thinking. I wonder if he's scared.

When the tutor enters, he seems flustered. His hair resembles scattered straw and he is huffing.

'Quiet down, now!'

His voice is loud, and people glance at each other with furrowed brows before obeying.

His voice is gruff as he takes the register.
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I do not go into the balcony that lunch break. I stay in the library and look at books. I like the picture books, and I wonder if that is how the author sees the world.

'Hi,' a voice says.

I turn around and it is Will that stands there. His dark hair is shining and he is so tall that I have to lift my neck.

'Hello.'

Will looks around, and I look around, too. The library is not very big and there are not many people inside today. There are never many people inside. A boy with ginger hair and a hunched frame sits on a beanbag in the corner by the window. His hair covers his face.

'I was wondering if you wanted to...hang out...after school. Today.'

He is looking at my face. His eyes resemble an angry ocean, still for just the present.

'I have to go out after school.'

His eyebrow lift. 'You have to go out?'

'Yes.'

I do not understand why his lips are you twitching. His eyes look down at the floor, and his eyelashes brush his cheek. He looks up.

I feel as if I have to say something.

'I am going to ask for a job.'

His face clears as if it has been swept by waves. He straightens his back. 'Maybe another time, then.'

He is inviting me out. Maybe I should do something in return.

'You can come with me if you would like.'

In his eyes, waves rock. 'Really?'

'If you would like.'

His lips, dark in color and usually motionless, stretch and curve upwards. He does not look like the boy from the balcony when he smiles. 'Okay. I can meet you after last period bell at the gates.'

'Okay.'

One side of his mouth curves. The ocean in his eyes is gentle. 'Bye, Kalla.'

'Goodbye.'

Upon the fields of barley.