The King was furious.
The Queen was mad but stood in front of her daughter as her husband raged across the castle grounds.
The young prince had been banished from the domain, ordered to never return or communicate to the young princess. She made it her life’s mission to talk with the you first prince whenever she was away form court.
However, on one of their clandestine meetings, the king met up with the king and held a sword of shame upon the prince’s head and was forced to surrender to the king and lead him to his home under an escort of knights. The father scorned his young prince and laid the young man’s future in the hands of the neighboring kingdom.
The young girl wanted to come to his rescue and rebuke her father; that he was wrong to punish the young prince for something that was her decision as well. The king acknowledged this cursed his young daughter with a mark on her hand and ear; so that she could hear him from any distance, from dark cave, to bright field, she would never be without the words of her father’s wisdom.
Whether she wanted it or not.

non semper erit aestas  

Seventh period was American History and it was held in a small room off the side of the computer lab. Mr Acuff taught the class and he was never a teacher who decorated the classroom with anything except for an old map of the Untied States of America on the left side wall. That was it. No test reminders, or some good-natured words of wisdom. Nope, just a political map by its lonesome on a painted grey wall. Everyone took their own seats and I sat down near the back only because I could and readied my notebook to take down notes as I had heard that Mr. Acuff liked to start on day one with either a lecture, a pop-quiz or some kind of reading assignment.
The bell chimed and, as I had been lost in thought about how my day had been so far, I didn’t see Kris sitting next to me until the bell rang.
He didn’t look at me but the fact that he could have chosen the empty desk in the front row made me scowl a little. I almost wanted to tap him on the shoulder and ask how many classes he failed last year but I knew he would either answer me with a smirk or a sarcastic comment that would make me look bad. I decided to not say a anything.
I only wished he would have done the same.

“You’l love Mr. Acuff’s class,” he said as we walked out the door at the end of the period.
“I’m sure I will.”
“Really, he does have a lot stuff up there,” Kris said as he pointed at his head. “There are some days where he repeats himself. Kind of like my grandpa.”
I nodded in reply. Kris’ grandfather suffered from Alzheimer’s and every few minutes he would ask you who you were and then tell you all of these stories, only to ask you who you were again.
Then, the same stories again, unless you reminded him of something else.

I stopped at my locker and Kris went on down the hall. I continued to watch him out of the corner of my eye as he walked further and further away. Good.
“Hey, Jazz,” Kim shouted from behind me. I was so focused on watching Kris leave that my skin crawled in fear for a split second.
“Kim.”
“Looks like we made it. We survived the first day back at school.”
“No detention?”
“Came a little close during sixth period,” Kim replied as she looked down the hall. “Apparently, Mr, Springer is aware of the hiding places in the shop area.
“What were you doing?”
“We were just walking in that direction and he called our names out. It was like freaky that he knew my full name and who I was. I don’t think I’ve ever said like, maybe, three words to the guy.”
“Going to try again?”
“Probably on Wednesday.” Kim replied with a laugh. “Well, I’m going to my house to get my work stuff.”
“Do yo I have a ride home?”
“I don’t know.”
“You do,” I replied with smile.
“Thanks, Jazz.”
“No problem. Now, get to work.”
“See ya, girl!”
Kim ran down the hall.

As much as I hated Tom, and no matter how much I wanted to deny it, I envied Kim. I didn’t want to drag Alex to Reardan and force him to hang out with me all day, but it would have felt great to talk to him about the day and maybe other things. It was okay, I would see him later that night when I went to get Kim, so everything would be cool.
I grabbed the books I needed for the night, threw them into my backpack and then took my purse from my locker. Three teachers, Mr. Acuff included, decided that the first day was just perfect for several writing assignments. If I made good time getting home I could have it all completed before picking Kim up from work.
I closed the door to my car and went to start the engine.
It clicked and clicked, but nothing happened.
I tried again and the engine roared to life, only to die just as quickly.
“No, no. This card is like less than a year old.” I said out loud as I removed the keys from the ignition and popped the hood open.
Dad and Kris had shown me a few pointers about cars: checking the oil and tires, how to avoid fuel backsplashes, and how to avoid driving like a crazy idiot. I learned that by not doing whatever Kris did behind the wheel.
Everything looked fine under the hood, as far as I could see. Battery cables were attached, nothing looked like it was on fire, smoking or melting away. However, that was as far as my knowledge went.
I feared having to call my dad. Not because he would yell, but because I wouldn’t be able to describe what was wrong without sounding ignorant, which I was. I would be able to feel the vein in his forehead grow as I told him what was happening.
I took a few steps back as I pondered when to call Dad. Without my car, how could I pick up Kim or see Alex later on? Jamie could pick her up if she had to and I could always just call Alex later on.
“Car problem?” A voice behind me asked. A voice I didn’t want to hear. Our school had, maybe, three dozen guys who knew what to with a car and HE had to be the one who showed up.
“Yes,” I replied, as I didn’t turn around.
Kris walked up to the car and looked at the engine. “Won’t start?”
“Starts, but then dies.”
“The bane of car owner and the sound of dollar signs to a mechanic.”
“Right,” I replied.
“I can take you home.”
“I’ll just call my parents.”
“I’ll do you one better: I’ll call them for you and let them know you’re okay and, for your dad, let him know the car will be fine until we can come back and look at it.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“I would. Actually, it may come better from me.”
“Really,” I asked. “You have some nerve to assume I can’t—”
“You’re right, you will so be able to explain what’s happened to the engine as that vein in your dad’s forehead expands over the phone.”
“Okay,” I replied as I held my hands up in a bit of despair, disdain and disenchantment as Kris closed the hood.
We walked to the parking lot on the east side of the school to Kris’s car.
He held the passenger side door opened for me as I laid my backpack in the back seat.

“Hello, Mom. Small problem with the car.”
“I’ll get your father.”
“No, you don’t have to.”
“Hello?” Dad said just a second later. I bit my lip, I really didn’t want to say anything.
“There’s a problem with the car. It won’t start.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m fine. A friend from school is driving me home.”
“Where is the car?”
“In front of the school,” I replied as Kris only nodded.
“Okay. I’ll go out and look at it. We may need to tow it home.”
“Sorry.”
“No, Nothing you could do about it,” Dad replied, but I could hear the tension in his voice of having to come out to Reardan in the dark. “Let me know when you get home.”
“I will. Love you.”
I hung the phone up and laid my head against the window.
“He took that well,” Kris replied.
“Yeah.”
“Hey, I’m sorry about Saturday. It was a stupid idea to go to the studio, but I was kind of moved to go there to talk to you.”
“Moved?” I asked as Kris accelerated to his normal cruising speed of eighty miles per hour.
“Well, something got to me, and I really wanted to talk to you. More so than the day before.”
“I don’t want to talk.”
“I understand,” he replied.
“Thank you for taking me home though.”
“You’re welcome. As I said, I’ll go out and help your dad with the car. Someone needs to hold the flashlight.”
“You know more about cars though.”
“I know that and you know that but I’m going to let your dad call the shots.”
“You learned something from him.”
“Yep,” Kris replied as he tapped at the steering wheel; which was something he did when he really wanted to say something but didn’t know how to phrase it.

Kris pulled the car up the driveway and hesitated as he placed the car into park.
“Does your dad still have his gun collection?”
“He added a new one this year…something named after a horse.”
“Okay.”
“He won’t shoot you, since you brought me home.”
“I feel a little better knowing that.”
“Come on, before they come to the door and see us and think the worst.”
Kris nodded as he killed the engine.

I walked to the front door, halfway expecting them to be there, armed, with word of wisdom and sarcasm about the situation. Or maybe with a rifle, once they saw who the “friend” was.
I unlocked the door and stepped inside, leaving Kris on the door step.
“I’m home!” I yelled.
Dad walked down the hall in a pair of jeans, a flannel shirt, and a look of a parent who detected something was amiss.
“My friend can drive you into Reardan to look at the car.”
“No, your mother and I will drive into town to look at the car.”
Mom stepped out the of the living with her purse already on her shoulder. “Dinner is on the counter for you.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “Can you pick up Kim from work too?”
“And then drive her back to Reardan?” Dad asked with a hint of annoyance.
“Yeah,” I replied meekly.
“No,” Dad replied.
“Okay, I have a back-up plan for that,” I said as I opened the door ever so slightly, to not let my parents see who I was talking to. “Can you pick up Kim instead?”
Kris nodded, ran to his car, and started it up.
I closed the door and turned to face my parents.
“Who was that?”
“Her name is Aylesea, she’s new and offered me a ride home.”
Dad looked out the window at the car. I hoped that the glare of the headlights on the glass, the darkness, and my dad’s lack of really wanting to care about who was in the car would be decided in my favor.

My parents left and I sat at the dining room table starting at the dinner mom left for me: mostly vegetables with a small piece of meat. I wanted to eat, but the fact that I was able to spin another lie out of thin air made me feel sick to my stomach. I knew if I continued the vicious cycle I would return to how I was in eighth grade and the summer before ninth: living in the shadows of who I once was. I struggled to rise above those days. Sure, I loved the feeling of the wind in my hair and to have someone close to me at all time, guiding me on how to smoke a cigarette, how to run through the darkened woods like a laughing idiot and how to feel alone when I needed him the most.

My parents learned of the cigarette smoking pretty quickly and wanted to blame it on Kim. I denied it was Kim’s fault, going so far as to make up a group of friendly phantoms who taught me the ways of the mighty tobacco leaf. I gave them names and locations where we went—these being names that I made up, but sounded just local enough to be taken seriously. My clothes were ripped muddy on the nights we ran through the woods without a care in the world—the same woods that were behind my house as Kris lived on the other since of the ridge. I came home with my clothes dirty and torn, along with some scratches and I told my parents that we ran through the woods like madmen, when, in actuality, we were in the forest with some blankets some Kris’s house and there were times when in the “shuffling” that our clothes became muddy ripped. I guess that kind of segues into the feeling alone part as it occurred a few days before school started.

I threw the food into the garbage disposal, went to my room, and threw my backpack to the floor. I wanted to call Alex, but he was at work, I wanted to tell him that I missed him and wanted him with me during the day as everyone else I knew had someone near them. I wanted Alex to deck Kris across the face only because I believed he could do it.
But then Kris would meet him, and maybe tell him of those dark days.
And I had sent Kris to pick Kim up!