I closed my eyes and relaxed. It was the first moment since I'd awoken that no one wanted anything from me. No one asked me any questions, no one wondered why I wasn't "ready," no one was smacking me on the butt. Of course, I wondered how Cassie dared to do such a thing, but thinking about it didn't help me understand.
"I was trying to get her ready," Cassie explained. Nina said nothing.
Mrs. Auburn sighed as she looked at me. I must have been quite a sight. My hair was a mess. I probably needed a shower, and I was wearing an old, worn nightgown, most of which was gathered in my fists. I opened my hands and let it fall into place, covering my bare legs.
"Come here, you," Mrs. Auburn said, in a voice that seemed more tired and sad than angry or frustrated. "Why aren't you ready?"
"I don't know," I said softly.
She looked at me reproachfully and sniffed. "I think you can get by without a shower, but we need to do something about that hair." Looking down, beside her, she said, "Nina, would you get Marcie's shampoo and conditioner? Cassie, will you pick out something for her to wear? Get everything together: dress, shoes, underwear... and lay it out on—" she glanced around the messy room and sighed once again. "Lay it out on my bed."
Nina came up and handed her mother the hair products. Mrs. Auburn thanked her and said, "Now will you go find the hair dryer and a brush? Bring them down to the kitchen." Then, after giving me a look that told me she'd brook no nonsense, she turned and walked down the stairs. Meek, wordless, I followed her all the way to the kitchen. Once there, she pulled a chair over to the sink.
"Oh," she said, looking around and missing something. She looked up and called out, "Nina? Will you bring me two big towels? Please?"
I stood there before her, in that ragged, old nightgown. I still had no idea why I was here, what was going on, what we were "getting ready" for. A word came into mind: forlorn. I was forlorn! I was sure that if I looked for the word in the dictionary, next to the definition would be a little picture of me, with my slept-on hair and hole-full gown.
I had nothing but questions.
How had I gotten here? Why didn't I remember anything? Why was everyone treating me so strangely? They all seemed to think I belonged there, somehow.
And where was Jerry?
Then, I realized that I hadn't seen Mr. Auburn, either. Jerry must be off with his father somewhere.
"Sit down," Mrs. Auburn gently commanded. As I did, she scooped my hair into the sink. I tipped my head backward so that my face was looking upward into hers. All my uncertainty and confusion was written there, plain as day, for her to read.
And she did read it. She gave another sigh, much heavier and deeper than before, and said, half-hurt, half-reproachful, "Marcie, you break my heart when you look at me like that."
"I'm sorry."
"I'm not mad at you. I just wish you'd gotten ready by yourself. We still have time, if we keep moving." She listened for Nina's footsteps, but they didn't come, so she turned on the water, adjusted the spray, and waited for the water to heat up.
"Do you know who I was talking to on the phone?" I shook my head no. "I was talking to my sister Julia. She's very ill." Mrs. Auburn took a deep breath and made an effort to kept herself from crying.
"Is she sick?" I asked.
"Yes," she breathed. "Very sick. She has cancer."
"Is it bad?"
"They don't know yet," she replied. We heard Nina's pounding footsteps on the stairs, so Mrs. Auburn quickly dried her eyes. "Not a word to the girls, alright? It's just between us. I don't want to ruin the day."
"Okay," I agreed, and she gave me a weak smile. She took the towels from Nina, arranged one under my neck, and began washing my hair.
I closed my eyes and relaxed. It was the first moment since I'd awoken that no one wanted anything from me. No one asked me any questions, no one wondered why I wasn't "ready," no one was smacking me on the butt. Of course, I wondered how Cassie dared to do such a thing, but thinking about it didn't help me understand.
I tried to relax, clear my mind, and enjoy the shampoo.
"I always loved doing this," Mrs. Auburn said.
"Mmm," I agreed.
After two applications of shampoo, she worked the conditioner into my hair, combing it through. Then, the final rinse, and soon I was sitting up as she towel-dried my hair.
"This is the nicest thing that's happened to me today," I told her.
"Hmm," she replied. "Well, we're not done yet." It sounded like a threat.
Nina sat down as if she had a ringside seat at a show.
Mrs. Auburn dried her hands, plugged in the hair drier, and put the hair brush in easy reach.
"All right, now," she warned me. "Just remember that you could have done this yourself hours ago, so you have nothing to complain about. Understand? And I don't want to hear any yelling."
Nina big-eyed, got her fingers ready to stick in her ears. I smiled at her, and her eyes grew even bigger.
Mrs. Auburn turned on the hair drier, grabbed the brush, and went to town on my head, brushing and pulling without any grace or pity. I was beginning to wonder whether I was better off with Cassie.
"Ow!" I shouted, as the brush grabbed a knot of hair and ripped it free. Then, a moment later, as another knot came free, I added, "Oooch! That hurts!"
"You have to learn to brush your hair," she countered. "Every day! Otherwise you get knots. Like this one!" She tugged and tugged and brought tears to my eyes.
What in the world was going on this house?
"Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!" I said. "You're burning me with that hair dryer! Can I do it myself? Eee-yow!"
"Too late!" Mrs. Auburn said. "If you like, I can let Cassie finish."
"No!" I protested. "I'll stick with you."
"Smart girl."
I looked at Nina. She wasn't laughing. She seemed to be studying a bizarre anthropological ritual. She shrugged at me and smiled, but kept her fingers in her ears. I smiled back.
She sat there until the very end, which was the moment Mrs. Auburn turned off the hair drier. "Thanks!" I said, as I jumped from the chair and ran up the stairs.
Mrs. Auburn had told Cassie to lay my clothes out on her bed. It was easy to tell which room to go to: Cassie was standing at the door of one, and she said, "It's all ready for you, Princess Marcelline." Her face didn't give her away, but I knew she was waiting for me to pass so she could give me another swat. I covered my bottom with both hands, and walked through the door turning, so I faced her the whole time.
In the room, which was clearly the master bedroom — Mr. and Mrs. Auburn's bedroom — a lovely blue dress was lying on the bed. It was a nice acqua color, with long sleeves. Cassie had chosen a pair of dark blue shoes to go with it.
"Nice," I said. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," she said, with surprising civility. "Hey, your hair looks good."
"Oh, thanks," I said, smiling. I turned to look at myself in the mirror, and as my hand went toward my head...
Whack! another slap landed on my behind.
"Cassie," I said, trying to keep my temper... but she was already gone. Finally alone, I quickly changed, and went downstairs to join the others.
Well... the story could go on like this for days, couldn't it? I'll try to cut to the chase.
What everyone was getting ready for, it turned out, was a portrait. Mr. Auburn arrived from work (he'd taken part of the day off), and we piled into their car. Mrs. Auburn had Nina sit between Cassie and me "so they don't fight."
I was already puzzled by... by everything so far, but that one just went over the top for me. "Why would we fight?" I asked. "I don't want to fight."
Mrs. Auburn replied, "Marcie, don't even start!" in a tone that sealed my lips for the rest of the ride. Cassie gave me a superior smirk.
God! And to think there were times when I'd actually wished I could be *part* of this family!
In any case, the day went on. We had a picture taken: Mr. and Mrs. Auburn with Cassie, Nina, and me. I hung back each time, since of course I didn't belong, but they always pulled me in and sat me in the photo. I couldn't understand why they wanted me there, but clearly everyone agreed that they did, so I went along.
I still didn't remember a thing; had no idea what was going on or why I was here. However, the general idea seemed to be that Jerry and I had traded places, similar to the way that Maisie and I had done our mom-swap. This time, however, it was a full-on family swap.
Everyone certainly treated me as though I was part of the family, and no one mentioned Jerry at all. At times I wondered whether this was a bizarre new reality show, but I couldn't catch even the smallest glimpse of cameras or microphones.
At the same time, the idea that I might be on TV kept me quiet. I didn't want to have a memory lapse on national TV. I imagined a couple of teenage girls saying: Oh my God! Did you see it last night? That Marcie girl didn't know what was going on! It was like she forgot everything! What a goof she is!
After the photo, we went out to lunch together. I found myself sitting next to Mr. Auburn.
"You're awfully quiet today," he observed, with a twinkle in his eye.
"I told her about Julia," Mrs. Auburn told him in a low tone. He nodded.
"Try not to worry, kiddo," he told me. "We don't know much yet."
Of course, Cassie hadn't missed any of this, and soon Mrs. Auburn, against her will, was telling the girls about their aunt's illness.
"I didn't want to tell you before your trip," she told Cassie, "because I didn't want you to worry."
Cassie chewed her lip, and Nina looked to me, so I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile.
I wanted, in all honesty, to tell them that I wasn't quiet because I was sad about this Julia person, but I had enough tact to know that it would have been the worst thing to say. Instead, I accepted it as the cover to my confusion.
When we got back to the Auburn's house, Mr. Auburn (who still thought I was sad about Mrs. Auburn's sister) took me aside and said, "Would you like to go for a walk with me in an hour or so? If you want to talk, we can talk. If you don't want to talk, we can just walk. How does that sound?"
"That sounds good," I replied, smiling. It did sound good. I like Mr. Auburn. Even though he can be a terrible tease, I trust him. I decided right then that I was going to tell him about my difficulty and find out what was going on.
I trudged up the stairs. Nina and Cassie were behind me, and I felt my spider-sense tingling. I had to protect my backside from Cassie. So, once I got upstairs, I put my back to the wall. She smiled. She knew why I was doing it.
"Well?" Cassie asked. "Aren't you going to get changed?"
"Yes," I replied. "I'd like to."
"So, do it."
"I will." It was then that I realized I had no idea where my clothes were. Except for the old nightgown, which I'd left in Mrs. Auburn's room, but I couldn't wear that.
Cassie studied my face. "What's with you?" she asked. "Usually you can't wait to get out of that dress."
Now that she mentioned it, the dress was a bit uncomfortable. "I don't know what to wear," I told her lamely.
"How about jeans and a t-shirt?" she suggested.
"Okay," I agreed without moving. Nina stood there, too, watching me. My behavior must have seemed quite odd to them, but I just didn't know what to do. In this situation I couldn't just follow along, and I had no idea what to do next.
Cassie gave me a funny look and said, "Do you know, if you want to actually get your clothes to change into, you have to go into your room?"
"My room?" I asked blankly. Cassie responded by pointing to the messy room I'd been in earlier, the one where we'd fought over the nightgown.
I entered the room, hands carefully covering my derriere. "If this is my room," I wondered aloud, "who made this mess?" I shook my head, perplexed.
Cassie and Nina, who thought I was joking, burst out laughing behind me. "It must have been your evil twin," Cassie replied with a grin.
I looked at her expression. Was she joking? At this point, anything seemed possible.
Then I broke down. "Oh, my God," I sighed. I couldn't pretend any more. I had to come clean.
Cassie looked at me with concern. She wasn't teasing when she asked, "Are you alright?"
"I don't know," I replied. "I'm wondering whether this is all a dream, or maybe if I've lost my mind."
She relaxed her concern and smiled. "Well, if that's all it is...," she replied, "You might have lost your mind, but I'm sure this isn't a dream."
"Yeah," I countered, "but, you could say that, even if this is a dream."
"Okay," she agreed, nodding, giving me the point, and she began looking around my room. Her eye stopped on my window, and she walked over to it. Looking outside, she moved around for a bit. It seemed like she was looking for something, and then she found it.
"Look," she said, smiling. "Come over here and I'll prove to you that this isn't a dream."
When I didn't move, she beckoned with her hand. "Come on, come over here," she coaxed, so I went over. She put her hand on my shoulder and said, "Do you see that little bush over there?"
I could see it, just barely. I moved a little closer to her, and she moved back to make space for me. "Yeah, I see it now," I told her.
"Okay. Now: can you see what's behind the bush?"
"No..." I began, and then — I bent forward slightly, trying to get a better look. I still didn't see anything. The bush was in a funny spot, and I could barely see it from the window, let alone whatever was behind it. So I bent a little more and turned my head...
At that same moment, I felt Cassie's hand leave my shoulder.
Suddenly, in a flash, I knew what was coming. I leaped back, facing her. Her right hand was raised.
"I knew it!" I said. "You were going to slap my butt again! Why do you keep doing that?"
She shrugged. "Because I can? Because it never gets old?"
"Hey, news flash!" I retorted. "It just got old! It's official! Cut it out! It hurts!"
Mr. Auburn called up from downstairs. "What's going on up there? Is everyone okay?"
"Yeah, Dad!" Cassie called. "We're just playing. Everybody's fine."
I went over to the bed, shoved aside a pile of clothes, and sat down. I put my face in my hands. It was just too much. It was all too much.
"Marcie, what's wrong?" Cassie's voice was full of concern. "Seriously now: Talk to me."
I sniffed and said, "I don't know what's going on. I don't know why I'm here. I don't understand anything."
"What don't you understand?"
"Anything! How did I get here?"
"Oh, come on. Are you serious? Do you want me to ask Mom to explain how babies are made?"
"No, not that!" I spat. "I mean TODAY. I woke up on the couch downstairs... in that nightgown..."
I hesitated, not sure how much to say, but heavily burdened. I wanted to unload my distress, and so I looked up at the two girls to see if I could dump it all on them. They both stood there, listening, concerned and frightened. Well, a little frightened, anyway. And I didn't want that. I didn't want them worrying on my account.
As they waited for my next words, I drew a few ragged breaths and thought for a moment.
Was there an easier way to find out what was going on? Maybe there was... I thought for a moment, then took a different tack. I sniffed and wiped a tear from the corner of my eye, then asked them, "Can you tell me just one thing? Where's Jerry?"
"Jerry?" Cassie repeated, as if she had no idea who or what I was talking about.
But Nina got it in one. Her eyebrows arched, her mouth formed a perfect oh!, and she murmured, "Uh-oh!" in a soft little voice.
Cassie looked from her to me, and her to me again, and then she got it, too.
"Oh, crap!" she whispered. Then swallowing hard, she looked me straight in the eye and said, "Wait a minute. Don't tell me: you think you're Marcie Donner, don't you?"
"Well, yeah!" I responded. "Who else would I be?"
"Uh, try Marcie Auburn?"
"WHAT!?"
© 2008 by Kaleigh Way
Comments
Where's Jerry?
Well, I think we know now. Great chapter here. I liked the cliffhanger. That explains why things are so messed up. She got her wish, but not quite what she wanted.
May Your Light Forever Shine
May Your Light Forever Shine
Cassie guessed that?
Boy, this must happen a lot.
I know what Marcie Knew.
I know what Masie knew.
What I don't know, is what I know!
or what to think...
Sarah
Dump The Twilight Zone ...
Enter, The Outer Limits
This is getting wierd with a captial W.
I'm impressed.
John in Wauwatosa
P.S. In this World is she a real girl, bits and all?
John in Wauwatosa
Yes, all real, all the time
I wish I could just dump the story whole right now, but I can't!
I'll warn you when the *real* twist is coming. I can't wait.
Please
Whatever you do don't make your entire series, from book one, to this third book, all a dream series; when she wakes up and she has always been Marcie Auburn. That is way to horrible, and cruel to consider, that everything she has gone through is not real and all a dream.
You have totally lost me in the twilight zone with the last two chapters.
Please let her wake up on the plane and she just has to worry about the egotistical little twit, that is captain of the Amazons.
I'm assuming that Marcie Auburn is all female too? It sounds like Cassie was saying she was born her sister, a genetic girl, and Jerry never was. Why did Cassie know about Donner? Ok, I'll wait like everyone else. This story has gotten weird though and it give's me the creeps.
I've really enjoyed the entire series up until now, but that is because I have just read all the other chapters at once, and now I have to wait for the next one to be written.
You did a good job so far Kaliegh, keep up the good work.
Joni W
At Sea
Both Marcie and me.
Completely at sea.
A Boat was to have been...
Now, nowhere to be seen.
Two Marcies now...
The question is how?
And which is which,
And why the switch?
And why SHOULDN'T I have a cow?
forlorn ....
... that’s how I feel too.
Marcie I can soooooo relate.
What the ... is going on here?
I would be totally freaked out by now if I was in her place.
Actually I'm freaked out as it is just reading the story.
Kaleigh if your aim was to confuse and frustrate your readers you did a mighty fine job. That alone would not be so bad if the story would not be posted in tiny pieces every two days. This is just plain cruel. Maybe I should report this story to Amnesty International as torture of the readers.
Please don't keep us hanging any longer but explain what is going on here.
I really love the Marcie stories and your writing style Kaleigh but at the moment I feel as frustrated as Marcie must have felt those last two episodes. Please show mercy.
hugs
Holly
Friendship is like glass,
once broken it can be mented,
but there will always be a crack.
Sorry!
For the first time I honestly regret writing in serial format. When I get to the end of the whole story, I'll start posting more often.
I don't want to give away the story, but in the end she will be safe and sound and back at home.
The next Marcie story will be more like the previous: we'll find out what happens with Maisie and the media and other stuff.
Kaleigh
The whimpering is getting on my nerves :)
I wish you would go back to posting daily but other than that, I'm fine with how the story is going. :) This is serial writing the way it's done.
I don't think I have much more of an idea of what is going on than anyone else but I find the details and twists and turns fascinating.
Hurry Friday! :)
Hugs,
Erin
= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.
= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.
I Agree With Erin
In that I'm fine with how the story is going. So far it is different than I expected, but so what. It is interesting and entertaining if somewhat confusing. Keep it Up.
My dreams are vignettes not movies!
This is fun, but did I get in the wrong story or somethign? I thought we were on a plane and we were going to the south seas? I am confused.
Gwen
... see now you feel exactly
... see now you feel exactly like Marcie (and well proababaly all off us, save Kaleigh)...
... but I'm sure there is a perfectly easy and normal explainantion for it all.
Normal the Marcie way any way.
Friendship is like glass,
once broken it can be mented,
but there will always be a crack.
There will be some sort of explanation tomorrow...
... which Marcie won't believe, but you may if you like.
Kaleigh
Tomorrow?
Or Friday?
Yes, Friday
Thanks.
Oh, my.
Oh one hand, it's probably realistic to think that a normal teenaged girl in the flush and stress of powerful new hormones could have some mental issues and fantasize that she was a comic-book superheroine type of boy turned girl having scads of exciting adventures. Jetting around the country. Meeting ghosts. Fighting crime. Cameramen clustered around her door. Escaping through a secret tunnel. Oh, my. Which is more likely to be the dream and which is more likely to be reality?
But really, what a great story, and great characters. My disbelief is so suspended I think it floated away weeks ago. I can't wait for Friday, and beyond.
Thanks so much for writing these stories and sharing them with us. Count me another devoted fan.
JoEllen Lynn
within driving distance of Wauwatosa but not writing as much as John. Or as well.
Very insightful comment!
Let's see if anyone in the story thinks that way, too.
(And thanks!)
Kaleigh
A Jump Too Far!
Fortunately, dreams do not have to make sense and the quote above proves it. I am also sure Kaleigh has thought her plotline out, so there is no reason to jump all over the place in our anxious waiting for clarity.
Face it, this whole third story has been weird: The secret tunnel was interesting and the 'hazmat' was funny; even Ida's cooking and its effect on Marcie was in the Marcie Donner fashion we could expect, but from the moment the trip was announced something appears to have gone awry. For one thing, no one but the well traveled makes a trip overseas quickly -- remember passports? Two, the Amazons and their nicknames are a little far out. Three, in this supposedly dream sequence, the nightgown and the messy bedroom -- though the mess may account for Marcie sleeping on the couch -- has been introduced for purposeful misdirection or importance to the story. That is good mystery writing. Finally, we have the above quote. What Marcie needs right now is some air turbulence to wake her because this dream, as dreams go, makes little sense. The deduction Nina and Cassie has made, unless this has occured before with Marcie, is a jump too far. In a dream, that's okay, we take shortcuts and making sense is not a requirement. But, "Where's Jerry?" in reality could just have been an inquiry about a boyfriend, or even a brother, and in itself means little to nothing I suspect. Remember, this is the Marcie Donner Story.
It will being interesting to see what Kaleigh has up her sleeve and what card she plays next. For myself, I hope she returns to the type of outlandish adventures found in the first story, Rules are Rules, but "Marcie Auburn", how mundane!
I am a grain of sand on a near beach; a nova in the sky, distant and long.
In my footprints wash the sea; from my hands flow our universe.
Fact and fiction sing a legendary song.
Trickster/Creator are its divine verse.
--Old Man CoyotePuma
Clever, Holmes, very clever, but...
Your comments are very insightful. Suspiciously insightful. Just wait until I catch your informant!
HOWEVER!!!
After I read what you'd written, I spent a little time walking around Boston, talking to myself about passports...
You aren't the first to mention Marcie's passport, and I was a bit worked up, thinking, "Okay, so I didn't mention her passport! So what? I didn't mention her shoes, either, but no one thinks she's barefoot!"
And then I started thinking, "The story has built-in fact checkers: if she doesn't have a passport, she won't be able to get on the second flight."
It was my aha moment... but now, you'll have to wait and see how it comes out.
Kaleigh "Irene Adler" Way
Passport Resolution
It's possible/even likely that Marcie's parents got her a passport in the course of the legal name change process. Passports are more necessary these days as they are needed (or soon will be) for any trips out of the country.
Rush Passport.
Passports can be had in one day. I got my first passport for a rush business trip to Torino Italy. After getting an appointment, I applied in person the next day at the passport agency in the Thomas tip O'neil building, downtown Boston. I arrived in the morning and waited on line for short time to apply. Once they went over the paper work, I was told to come back in the afternoon to pick the passport up. time from making appointment to getting passport was around 24 hours. Also you need proof of travel, like an airline ticket.
Kylie
Trippy
I'd say this is more like a trip through the Twilight Zone and I love it.
I wonder if we'll see how Jerry Donner is doing. Only time will tell. *tick* *tock*
Thanks!
Hugs
- Terry
Hmmmm
this could almost be the 'lives of Walter Mitty'. an over active imagination. or it could be a really bad reaction to food poisoning ;)
I'll be patient Kaleigh, although I am intrigued.
A.A.
A Clear Prologue
SPOILER WARNING: If you haven't seen "The Sixth Sense" and don't want it spoiled, don't read this comment.
I can't help but read the above lines from the beginning of Chapter 1 of the story, as looking back on a completed vacation to the South Seas as an authoritative narrative begins. (This was apparently being described up until Chapter 7, when Marcie apparently fell into a deep sleep on an airplane, and into what resembles for all the world, an intense and vivid epic-length dream.) It's an oft-used device for starting a story, and as a literary convention we expect it to signal what the story is going to be about, a virtual plot-declaration. It tells us the narrator survived the ordeal, whatever it was, and is now going to relate it to us, and it tells us the narrator has full knowledge already of what the ordeal was.
Granted, it's just a convention, and literary conventions get violated, stretched, and expanded all the time, so we'll have to wait and see. Nonetheless, it does raise certain expectations.
For example, if the narrator is someone else's dream, then how can they be telling us the story? That raises more serious questions than the Bruce Willis character in "The Sixth Sense" did. He was merely dead.
I like it, high fever induced by food poisoning, Typhoid Ida!
In a high fever a person will dream the weirdest of things, like cheerleaders called the Amazons, of suddenly changing sexes and changing families and George Bush being, ... Oops, cheesy political joke there. Insert politican of your choice instead.
Or maybe the plane crased or there was an accident and she's in anesthesia induced halucinations?
Or everything before was a Bobby Ewing leaving the shower Dallas dream.
Keep up the wacky stuff.
John in Wauwatosa
John in Wauwatosa
Yep, I'm like totally
Yep, I'm like totally confused here.
You make me wonder if my home really is my home.
Will I get lost trying for my kitchen?
I sure hope the loo are where I left it.
And what's with all that spanking?
Is there more hidden dimensions too this.
I do hope there will be proper propriety shown.
Ah, I think?
with much offended dignity.
And in a most pompously airy manner.
Yoron.
Ps: I've never been to Hawaii.
And now it seems I newer will...
wow
this is the mother of all plot twists and i dont have a clue what is going on. Marcie Auburn? WHat happened to her mother, how could she approve of this. I was starting to wonder if something bad happened to marcies family and the Auburns adopted marcie. But you said everything will be good in the end and your not the type to write such things. But i cant fatham what is going on and if marcies mother is still in the picture that she would be allright with marcie becoming Marcie Auburn.
I love this
That reminds my of one my
That reminds my of one my other favorite authors, Douglas Adams. Book one: "This not her story", book five: "This is her story"
M
Martina
more confusion
say what now?