The Troubles of a Bookworm: December 2014

Hi! So sorry that I haven't been posting in a while, but I promise I will try more. Since November, not much has happened, but I'm not as busy, so yeah.
Anyway, I am starting this .... I don't want to jinx it by saying the B-O-O-K word... story with my friend Jane who lives all the way across the country!
It's on google drive and we really need a title haha. So. It's alternating chapters, I might post more, but this is the first one. I am Lucy and she is Kaitlyn.
Enjoy!

JANUARY 12 THE WEEKLY

Obituaries

On January 12, Victoria McCartney passed away due to a car crash. While police are still further investigating the crash, Victoria is IMMENSELY missed by her entire town and everybody around her. At only 32, beautiful, loving, and caring, she will not be forgotten. The memorial service for this exceptional woman, daughter, and fiancé will be held on January 31 at 1:00 pm.

“Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly…”

-Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll

chapter one

Stepping out into the quaint wintry landscape with its snow-capped evergreens and the sweet smell of the crisp, grey air, Lucy and Kaitlyn hooked arms, mounted their snow-grazed bicycles, and headed off down the street. Though the streets were blanketed with a thick layer of snow, Lucy breathed in the essence around her and decided to take her jacket off. She thrusted her dark blue jacket into the woven basket that had been attached to the handlebars of all her bikes since she was seven.

“Are you insane? It’s below freezing out here and you’re in a freaking sleeveless dress!” Kaitlyn exclaimed.

“Oh, relax,” Lucy replied. “Zoey’s house is just four blocks away, and I’m wearing a scarf and tights and boots. With the chunky knit socks! That you love! What more do you want from me, Kaitlyn?” She smirked but could practically hear Kaitlyn rolling her eyes.

Lucy loved the icy, frigid air biting her cheeks as she rode fast down the street. She relished the sting on her skin and the scent that only snow gives that is practically ineffable. To Lucy, there was nothing quite like looking out the frosty window and seeing fresh snow descend from the white-gray sky. Kaitlyn used to tell Lucy when they were little that Santa Claus, in fact, lived in the sky and not the North Pole, and that snow was just bits of his white beard falling off.

“That’s impossible,” Lucy would say.

“He has a very big beard,” Kaitlyn would answer.

They were very simple, low-maintenance children. That was the only answer Lucy would ever need to answer that question- he has a very big beard. Lucy remembered this on the bike ride and laughed. Kaitlyn asked why she was laughing.

“Life’s just funny, Kaitlyn,” Lucy stated.

“You sound very cliché, Lucy,” Kaitlyn remarked. After some silence, she added, “But it’s true.”

Lucy parked her bike and waited a moment until after Zoey welcomed Kaitlyn in. Though Lucy was never a very quiet girl, sometime she liked to pause her talking and take in the tranquility of things. She looked up at the trees, their branches bare and frosted. Before putting her coat back on again, Lucy thought how loud a quiet Sunday in January could really speak. She heard her boots click on the newly paved walkway and didn’t bother to knock, knowing that Zoey was expecting her anyway.

“How was Zoey’s?” their mother Josie called from the kitchen.

“Fine, but I’m famished. We spent the entire time cramming for the science midterm,” Lucy replied. She combed her fingers through her inky, shoulder-length hair as she and Kaitlyn traipsed into the kitchen, hyped up on adrenaline from racing back to the house on their bikes.

“And we managed to cram a bit of TV in there somewhere, too,” Kaitlyn added.

“I’m going to ignore that. But! We have homemade chicken stew,” Josie asserted.

This said stew was a Wethers family tradition- Josie’s great grandmother had come up with the recipe and had taught it to all her daughters and granddaughters and so on. Lucy knew that Josie wasn’t much for cooking, but this was the one recipe that she knew her mother could fully master. It was rich but not too creamy; plentiful with vegetables but not too much slightly gross celery.

“So, how was your studying? And the TV,” Josie added with a smirk.

“Hectic,” Kaitlyn deadpanned as she set down forks and knives on the dining room table. Lucy considered the dining room a breakfast nook where they often had dinner rather than a dining room. It was a rather prepossessing little room with a dangling chandelier, three upholstered, maroon colored chairs, and pale blue curtains draped over the windows. It was Lucy’s favorite place in the house to unwind.

“Which was hectic, the studying or the TV?” Josie asked.

“That’s for you to decide,” Lucy interjected, seating herself in her chair. After a number of years, they had each adopted their own chairs. She secretly resented anybody who took her seat.

“I’m surprised you guys are hungry. That Diane usually feeds you constantly,” Josie said.

It was not false- every time Lucy went over, Zoey’s mother, Diane, would always feed them snacks or anything homemade. Nonetheless, Diane would rarely give Zoey too many snacks. “The guests get the food,” she would say. Zoey always scowled at her but took the food anyway. Zoey was athletic and had a fast metabolism, but Diane always insisted that she wouldn’t stay like that forever.

Lucy waltzed into the kitchen for a second serving of stew. She gazed at the bulletin board above their old percolator. It was smothered in old works of art from elementary school days and fading photographs that were wilted around the edges of people that had come and gone in and out of their lives. Teachers’ notes and reminders and ripped yearbook pages. Mother’s Day cards and thank you notes. The doctors’ office schedules and emergency contacts. Yet behind all that, Lucy saw one thing that had been there for years that nobody bothered to remove - a lone, wallet-sized picture of her father, hanging in the corner like an unwanted bruised apple at the bottom of the fruit basket. Nobody had paid much attention to it, but at times, she allowed herself to remember her father. He left when she was barely two years old, much too early for any distinct memories of him. From the picture she could tell he was clean shaven and had short but messy, dark hair accompanied by piercing blue eyes with yellow rings around the pupils. She had probably inherited the bright, yellow-ringed eyes from him, considering that her mother had what she called “poop brown” eyes.

Nobody talked about their father much- he was a distant memory that none of them preferred to dwell on, especially Josie. Though Josie always described him as the “non-existent asshole of the house”, the little girl inside of Lucy inwardly liked to believe that he was a man on a mission and he left them for a reason, and would come back someday. Yet leaving is leaving and she knew it was immoral in every way, and so he was almost never brought up.

It wasn’t until Josie called her back into the dining room, wondering why she was taking so long to get her stew, that Lucy realized that she was lost within her own mind. She was constantly reading and new thoughts were incessantly taking up space in her brain and so she was constantly losing herself in them. Lucy was what Kaitlyn liked to call the “Persistent Wonderer.” It was true; of the twins, Lucy was always asking completely arbitrary questions about anything around her and often wouldn’t stop asking until anybody around her answered. Or at least until Kaitlyn answered.

Lucy left the kitchen while her stew was still warm.

Friday afternoon, Lucy had decided that she wanted to walk home from school.

“But it’s freezing outside,” Kaitlyn complained.

“No, actually, it’s four degrees above freezing, so that’s a plus,” Lucy

smugly retorted. She loved messing with Kaitlyn. She loved that Kaitlyn despised it but laughed at the same time. “Come on, it’s such a nice day outside! The sun is shining… You have on your nice new parka…”

Kaitlyn still wore a doubting look. Finally, she gave in.

“Fine. Whatever. Let’s go.”

They were sitting on a wooden picnic table with their bags parked by their feet, both of them on their phones. They were both scrolling through their text messages- Josie was not replying. Kaitlyn texted, we’re walking home. See you later. Lucy grabbed her bag, swiftly hopped of the picnic table, and headed off. Kaitlyn followed behind.

Halfway down the street, Lucy suddenly remembered why she hadn’t been answering. Josie usually stayed home from work Fridays to run errands, she’d been called in for work that day. She reminded Kaitlyn, and Kaitlyn nodded. It was silent the rest of the way home but for the snow dropping from the trees and the thoughts cluttering Lucy’s head.

Lucy learned two things when they finally arrived at home: the driveway had just been freshly shoveled after a late night snow, and that Josie’s car was here. Kaitlyn’s face grew pale. The last time they got home from school and Josie’s car was their, their great-grandmother had passed away. Although they were only seven when that happened, Lucy remembered their tear-stained, agonized mother sitting at the kitchen table with clumps of tissues around her and hoped something bad hadn’t happened.

The optimist that she was, Lucy brushed it off and let out a little chuckle.

“Don’t worry, Kait, we’re fine,” Lucy reassured her sister. She said it reluctantly because she wasn’t so convinced herself. She dug into her bag for her key, only to find that Kaitlyn had opened the door without struggle.

A cacophonous sound emerged from the kitchen.

“Mom?” Kaitlyn meekly whispered, less of a question for Josie and more of a reminder to herself that their mother was actually still in the house. After a little while, Josie responded with a submissive “I’m here” and the girls tiptoed over to the kitchen.

Josie was very sensitive, but it was easy to tell - or at least, for Lucy and Kaitlyn - when she was actually distressed. At this very moment, she looked terrible; like a crumbling, decrepit, abandoned house. Her under eyes were incredibly red and puffy and her nose was the color of a dried out tomato. She looked as if she was breaking apart. Lucy felt herself tear up at the sight and reached over to cradle her mother’s shoulders in her hands. She looked over to find Kaitlyn doing the same thing. Kaitlyn grabbed Lucy’s hand.

“Mama, what’s wrong?” Kaitlyn cooed.

Josie shook her head and let out a sob, a truly grating and heart-breaking sound for her daughters.

“Mom,” Lucy demanded, now extremely serious. “Mom, come on. You can talk to us, you know you can.”

Josie looked up.

“I… I have something to tell you.”

The Troubles of a Bookworm

Wednesday, December 17, 2014

The (28) Stages of Running a 5k

(to be titled) Chapter One!

Pages

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