The Two Hundredth and Seventy Seventh Life-Part Three
I climbed out of her window, leaving my backpack there. I wanted to show her the cardboard box. I would be at my house for about an hour, gathering everything that I needed while Basil cleaned the room and set up my bed for me. I would have offered to help, except I was absolutely hopeless at building anything. Except fixing objects. Mechanical was my forte, and I wasn’t good at anything else. I laughed as I shoveled things into my bag, then zipped it up slowly.
I ran downstairs quickly, my sock-clad feet slipping and sliding. I cursed my own inability to remember anything, even my shoes, or wearing matching socks. One of mine was black, the other a slightly different length and shade of cobalt. Interesting. I studied my socks for several minutes, probably wasting my life. When I looked up again, eight minutes had passed. I blinked, but quickly shook it off and went into my pantry slowly and carefully, checking for the sweet stuff that Basil liked. I didn’t quite understand the concept that food could be sweet. I only knew two things. Good, or not good. I didn’t quite understand how… Inclusive the taste could be, if it was true.
As I finished up in the kitchen, a small grocery bag now laden with food, I heard the front door creak, which could mean only one thing. My family was home, and now I would have to interact with the dunderheads. Joy, I thought sarcastically, rolling my mismatched eyes. That’s another reason that they didn’t like me. One of my eyes, yellow, slowly counting down, like a clock, every year? Freaked them out.
“Julian?” One of them called. I wasn’t sure who, but then again, all of their names were stupid. Stupid, stupid.
“Yes?” I responded, sighing softly as I swung the grocery bag around. Gravity kept all of the food safely inside. Intriguing.
“Where are you, dear?”
I cringed, both at the pet name and the ending of the sentence. “The kitchen” I said hastily, hoping that the conversation would be over quickly. However, as I heard four pairs of feet trod over to the chipped door, practically the opposite of Basil, beautiful gorgeous Basil, I lost all hope.
At last, I slipped into Basil’s window. She stared at me, a bit angrily. I didn’t blame her, to be honest. I was practically three hours late. It was now ten forty nine, the seconds ticking and ticking until my birthday came in the morn.
“Where were you?” She asked accusingly, though I could tell that she didn’t mean to use that tone. I still winced though, in the futile hope that she might salvage some pity for me. The headache was still hurting, pounding against the walls of my head like some captive beast that wanted to be freed.
“My family talked to me.” I said quietly. Now she would understand. My family tried too hard to include me in everything they did. It was beginning to be ridiculous.
“Ah, I see.” Basil nodded sagely, then handed me the journal, roughly twenty more pages done. I won’t lie, I squealed in delight, right before the deja vu hit me. I groaned softly, holding my head in my hands as the notebook slipped out of them, hitting the floor with a resonating thud. Basil sighed nervously, knowing that if I dropped my beloved notebook, that I was in some sort of severe pain. She was right, of course. It was so, so painful. I couldn’t focus for the noises that flickered around my skull, whispering things that I wasn’t supposed to know, and which I instantly forgot.
I didn’t notice that Basil had left the room, and once my vision started to clear up and behind my eyes wasn’t stinging, I felt slightly bitter toward her. She just left. The action wasn’t like her at all, and I held out some hope that she was just going to get some medication or something. I ignored the fact that the med bottle, which lay at my feet, was full. I picked it up and rubbed it into my face none too gently. Sighing in relief, I sat down on Basil’s surprisingly soft bed, waiting for her to return. Eleven exactly. Not long now.
I ran downstairs quickly, my sock-clad feet slipping and sliding. I cursed my own inability to remember anything, even my shoes, or wearing matching socks. One of mine was black, the other a slightly different length and shade of cobalt. Interesting. I studied my socks for several minutes, probably wasting my life. When I looked up again, eight minutes had passed. I blinked, but quickly shook it off and went into my pantry slowly and carefully, checking for the sweet stuff that Basil liked. I didn’t quite understand the concept that food could be sweet. I only knew two things. Good, or not good. I didn’t quite understand how… Inclusive the taste could be, if it was true.
As I finished up in the kitchen, a small grocery bag now laden with food, I heard the front door creak, which could mean only one thing. My family was home, and now I would have to interact with the dunderheads. Joy, I thought sarcastically, rolling my mismatched eyes. That’s another reason that they didn’t like me. One of my eyes, yellow, slowly counting down, like a clock, every year? Freaked them out.
“Julian?” One of them called. I wasn’t sure who, but then again, all of their names were stupid. Stupid, stupid.
“Yes?” I responded, sighing softly as I swung the grocery bag around. Gravity kept all of the food safely inside. Intriguing.
“Where are you, dear?”
I cringed, both at the pet name and the ending of the sentence. “The kitchen” I said hastily, hoping that the conversation would be over quickly. However, as I heard four pairs of feet trod over to the chipped door, practically the opposite of Basil, beautiful gorgeous Basil, I lost all hope.
At last, I slipped into Basil’s window. She stared at me, a bit angrily. I didn’t blame her, to be honest. I was practically three hours late. It was now ten forty nine, the seconds ticking and ticking until my birthday came in the morn.
“Where were you?” She asked accusingly, though I could tell that she didn’t mean to use that tone. I still winced though, in the futile hope that she might salvage some pity for me. The headache was still hurting, pounding against the walls of my head like some captive beast that wanted to be freed.
“My family talked to me.” I said quietly. Now she would understand. My family tried too hard to include me in everything they did. It was beginning to be ridiculous.
“Ah, I see.” Basil nodded sagely, then handed me the journal, roughly twenty more pages done. I won’t lie, I squealed in delight, right before the deja vu hit me. I groaned softly, holding my head in my hands as the notebook slipped out of them, hitting the floor with a resonating thud. Basil sighed nervously, knowing that if I dropped my beloved notebook, that I was in some sort of severe pain. She was right, of course. It was so, so painful. I couldn’t focus for the noises that flickered around my skull, whispering things that I wasn’t supposed to know, and which I instantly forgot.
I didn’t notice that Basil had left the room, and once my vision started to clear up and behind my eyes wasn’t stinging, I felt slightly bitter toward her. She just left. The action wasn’t like her at all, and I held out some hope that she was just going to get some medication or something. I ignored the fact that the med bottle, which lay at my feet, was full. I picked it up and rubbed it into my face none too gently. Sighing in relief, I sat down on Basil’s surprisingly soft bed, waiting for her to return. Eleven exactly. Not long now.