Super Unnatural
‘My life is normal! I think.’
By: Emma Drew
“Kasidi, wake up! Wake up, Kasidi! It’s time to get up!”
Have you ever wished that your parents never had that little brother of yours? Or at least left him at the hospital rather than bring him home to aggravate the living HELL out of you every day of his six years of life.
“Brenden, if you want to live to your seventh birthday, I suggest you get off of my leg and leave now!” I mumbled into my pillow.
“Get up, first!” he yelled in his high-pitched, immature male voice.
“Time to get up, Kasi. Brenden leave her alone,” my older sister, Nina, said from the doorway. (Thank God, for sisters who believe that you shouldn’t be woken up by a 71 pound twerp jumping on your leg.)
Thirty minutes later, I was up and trotting downstairs for breakfast, a twenty pound book bag in hand.
“See ya later, Mom!” I shouted, swiping a granola bar from the counter.
“Aren’t you going to have breakfast first?” my mother yelled back while she flipped another pancake.
“Got it right here!” I hollered back, holding up said bar as I slipped into my champagne coloured hummer. “Keys, keys. Where are my keys?” I thought aloud, “Ah, here they are!” I pulled my keys and fifty million key chains out of my purse and slipped it into the ignition. The car sputtered, warming up after the long north Texas December night. “Come on! Come on, ya piece of junk!” I slammed my fist down on the dashboard and the hummer kicked into gear. “That’s better.”
“Hey Kasi!” a guy’s voice called from behind.
“Dray!” I half-squealed as my boyfriend, Dray, came and picked me up, spun me around and set me down again. (He loves to show off how strong he is. Even though picking up a girl who only weighs 104 pounds isn’t all that hard.) “So how was Virginia?” Dray had just spent two weeks in Virginia with his father while he was buying a new horse for their farm.
“Pretty nice, actually. We got a couple showers but they were light and brief. And I did get to be the first to ride our new horse, which was awesome.”
“Really? So what’s the breed, colour, age, name, you know the basics?”
“6-year-old, bay, Quarter Horse mare, which we call Jasmine.”
“Aw!”
“I know. You’ve gotta come see her sometime.”
“How’s this afternoon sound?”
“Sound’s great. Well, we’d better get to class. Mr. Rohday will have a cow if we’re late.”
“Really? So he is pregnant. I thought it was just all those doughnuts.”
Dray and I were still laughing as we entered Mr. Rohday’s classroom and headed for self-assigned seats in the back corner.
“Nice of you to join us Miss Arik and Mr. Slaji,” Mr. Rohday hissed in that hoarse, I-really-should-get-my-throat-checked-out-soon voice of his.
“Sorry, but we were busy calculating the speed at which the average teenager goes up the two flights of stairs to get to their classroom on the second floor,” I retorted with my sly grin and innocent eyes.
“Oh, really, and what conclusion did you two come to?”
“We found our results to be inconclusive, sorry.” Students (especially my, um, group and I) were always poking fun at Mr. Rohday’s abnormal interest in science when he was a World Geography teacher. My class always got the most enjoyment with this. Mostly because I was always making fun of the portly geography teacher.
“Can anyone tell me what the name of the blah blah blah blah,” if boring lessons was an Olympic sport, Mr. Rohday would win the gold medal hands down.
Apparently Dray agreed with me because a carefully folded note, addressed to Kasi, signed: Dray, just landed on my textbook. My drooping eyes moved slowly to the paper, I stared at it for a few seconds, (my mind took a while to start up again after listening to Mr. Rohday for twenty minutes) and then I lifted my numbed head from my hand and picked it up.
Hey Kasi,
Mari just sent me a text. She wants us to meet her at the Bunkens after school, ASAP. Jasmine’s gonna have to wait, I guess. By the way, is that a new toupee Mr. Rohday is wearing. Lol.
I smiled and looked up at Mr. Rohday, who was still droning on about the religious buildings and monuments in the city of Jerusalem. I then turned back to the note.
I’m not sure, I wrote, but it kinda looks like something he picked up off the side of the road to me.
“What’s this? A note perhaps?” the note suddenly disappeared from my desk. I looked up and it was in Mr. Rohday’s hand. “Maybe I should read this to the class. I’m sure we could all use a good laugh.”
“Mr. Rohday, I really wouldn’t if I were you,” I warned, knowing good and well that the entire class would surely get a good kick out of what Dray and I had just wrote.
“Nonsense, Miss Arik,” he then cleared his throat and began reading:
“ ‘Hey Kasi,
Mari just sent me a text. She wants us to meet her at the Bunkens after school, ASAP. Jasmine’s gonna have to wait, I guess. By the way, is that..a..new toupee… Mr. Rohday..is wearing.’” The whole class roared with laughter, Dray and I looked at each other with weak smiles. (We were trying not to bust out laughing ourselves at the look on our teacher’s face. That would have been disastrous.) “Um, well, I can assure you that all my hair is still firmly attached to my head, thank you, and I would appreciate it if you’d refrain from passing notes in my class.”
“Did you see that look on his face when he realized what he was reading?” my friend, Patricia, laughed, heading towards our cars.
“I know! It was priceless!” I responded, smiling as I reflected on the class before.
“I swear Mr. Rohday looked like a tomato, he was so embarrassed.” I followed Patricia to her small red Mustang before heading over to my hummer that was parked on the other side of the student parking lot.
“Hasta Patricia.”
“Bye, Kasidi.”
I sighed, glad that another class with Mr. Rohday was finally over. Only about a hundred more to go, I thought.
“Hello, Kasidi,” Coach Genzen said as I was unlocking my car, “I heard about what happened in Mr. Rohday’s class today. That’s was pure gold!” (Coach Genzen was the most popular teacher at Cannon High School and the varsity football coach and everybody loved him.)
“Really? Lordie, I forgot how fast word travels at this school. Anyway, good luck at the game on Friday.”
“Luck? Why would we need luck?”
“You’re right! We could probably smoke the other team with only half our guys and Harley of course.” (Harley is the only girl on our football team and she could easily kick the butt of any of the guys.)
“Yeah, I swear if that girl gets any better we’re going to have to change the rules so it’s two quarters instead of four. We don’t need to beat the other schools too badly.”
“Know what you mean. I really do feel sorry for Brickston High.”
“Ditto on that! Well, see ya later Kasidi.”
“Bye, Coach Genzen.”
“Hi, Kasidi,” Mari’s mother called from her front yard garden.
“Hi, Mrs. Herkos. Is Mari here?”
“Yeah, she’s in the Bunkens field with Dray.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Herkos. By the way, your garden is looking wonderful.”
“Why, thank you. The weather and the new fertilizer I bought is really helping.”
“Mari!”
“Kasi! How ya doin’ girl?” Mari exclaimed.
“Just fine, thanks for asking. And how are you doing?”
“Ok, I guess.”
“Where’s Dray? Your mom said he was already here.”
“Oh, he’s saying ‘hi’ to his other girlfriend.”
“Kiwi?”
“You got it.” Kiwi was Mari’s palomino Quarter Horse mare of nine years and Dray just couldn’t get enough of her. I swear, if he could, he’d certainly dump me for her. Well, except for the fact that it would be a tad bit weird that he would be going out with a horse.
“So what was so important that Dray and I had to rush over here ‘ASAP’?” I asked when Dray had finished his little courtship with Kiwi and came over.
“Um, well,” Mari said, suddenly serious, “I think my dad is cheating on my mom.”
“What?!?” Dray and I screamed in unison, startling the nearby horses.
“I know. I was walking home last week from the movies and I saw a strange car parked across the street from my house. I didn’t think much of it until I realized that my dad was in the front seat. He was with some blonde chick and they were….” Mari looked away, not bothering to finish her sentence. She didn’t have to. We both knew what she was going to say.
“Mari, I am so sorry,” I said sympathetically.
“Don’t be. It wasn’t your mother he was with,” then she turned to Dray, “Um, Dray, I’m sorry but when I saw that girl, I instantly recognized her. It was your mom.”
“What?” Dray whispered weakly, “It couldn’t have been. No way!”
“I’m sorry, Dray. I didn’t want to believe it either but it’s true!” I was lost in my own mind. Questions ran through my head as I looked on at my two distraught friends.
How could they do this? my brain screamed, Don’t they realize what this is going to do to their families, to Mari and Dray?
“Are you sure it was my mother?” Dray asked Mari, his eyes begging our friend to say that it wasn’t true.
But much to his disappointment Mari nodded for she wasn’t able to speak anymore. Both teenagers had tears in their eyes now. Even I was starting to tear up. The ever-faithful Kiwi must have sensed that Dray and Mari were upset because the little mare trotted over and playfully nipped at Dray’s arm in an attempt to cheer him up.
“Hey, girl,” he managed to choke out through his sobs.
“Kasidi, where have you been?” my mom shouted from the kitchen.
“At Mari’s house,” I answered gloomily, not bothering to stop. I slammed my bedroom door shut and flopped onto my bed, grabbing my pillow at the same time. Weird day, I thought.
“Kasidi!” she shouted again.
“What?!?”
“It’s time for dinner!”
“I’m not hungry!” and I really wasn’t. I mean when you just find about that your boyfriend’s mother has been having an affair with your best friend’s father, food is the last thing on your mind.
Thump. Thump. Th-thump.
“Huh?” I said, sleepily. Thump. Thump.
“Kasi!”
“What the hell is going on?” I whispered, getting up and going to my window.
“Kasi! Are you there?” it was Dray.
“What the hell are you doing here? Don’t you know what time it is?” I hissed as I opened the window.
“I know. I’m sorry but I needed to talk to you. Can you sneak out?”
“Sure, just let me change.”
Ten minutes later a very groggy and irritable me staggered out the window and down the side of the house.
“Come on,” I groaned.
I yawned, entering the stallion stable. (It was the middle of the night what did you expect) My horse, Jet, whinnied as Dray and I approached. (I guess he was surprised to see humans up this late. Even though I had paid him some late night visits on occasion but not for a long time now.)
“Hey Jet,” I mumbled, burying my face in his fluffy, black winter coat.
“He sure is looking great,” Dray said in awe of my handsome hunk of horse flesh, “Are you racing or breeding him this season?”
“Racing ‘em. Well, at least I think we are ‘cause we just got Toad and since he isn’t going to be a racer, it’s only natural that we’d be racing Jet.” Toad (his name is actually Smooth Country Rythm but we like to call him ‘Toad’ for short) was my family’s (but mainly my mom’s) 9-year-old, sorrel and chestnut, Quarter Horse stallion. (Now that’s a mouthful.)
“Cool. I’m looking forward to seeing this guy in the winner’s circle again.” Jet has been the National Arab Racing Champion two years in a row, “Are you riding him again this year or is your dad?”
“I am ‘cause my dad’s not going to be here for half the season.”
“Cool.”
“Dray, are you alright?”
“No, I can’t say I am. I mean I just found out that my mom is having an affair with the father of one of my best friends!” tears quickly filled my boyfriend’s eyes and spilt over, landing on the hay covered stable floor.
“Dray-“
“What am I going to do, Kasidi? I couldn’t even look at my mother when I got home today! And then I saw my dad! I wanted to tell him but I, I, I just couldn’t!” Dray was sobbing hysterically now.
“Dray. Dray! It’s going to be alright. We’ll figure something out, together. You’re not alone. I will help you in any way I can!” (Now he’s got me crying!)
“I know Kas but-“
“But nothing! Now stop your blubbering and grab a horse.”
Dray smiled when he figured out what I was saying and ran to the back of the barn to Lightfoot’s stall while I mounted Jet.
Seconds later two teenagers riding bareback burst through the barn doors. I’d always loved riding bareback the best for I was able to feel Jet. Feel his excitement for the run, his love for barrelling down a dirt rode, just barely getting out of the way before smacking head first into a tree. I shifted my gaze just catching a glimpse at Dray and Lightfoot. His tears had since dried and he was thoroughly enjoying this ride just as much as Lightfoot. I smiled, thinking about how odd it looked: him, with his dark complexion, riding the white Arabian and me, with my couldn’t-be-whiter skin, riding Jet, the head-strong, black stallion. It was certainly odd. I whistled, urging Jet on. His racing instincts automatically kicked in and we were soon leaving Lightfoot and Dray coughing in our dust.
“Kasi!” Dray whined. (He hated to be bested at anything. Especially at horseback riding and especially by his girlfriend.)
“Catch me if you can!” I hollered, still urging my mount to go faster. And just then I see Lightfoot’s muzzle appear right beside me. (Oops, did I forget to mention that Lightfoot was a retired racing champion and the reason why Jet didn’t win his first national racing event.)
“That was awesome,” Dray laughed as we approached the barn.
“Yeah, especially the part where Jet and I SMOKED all ya’ll!” I taunted.
“Yeah, yeah. You just got lucky. That’s all.”
“That had nothin’ to do with luck, honey! That was all skill!”
“In your dreams.”
“You wish.” We both entered the barn with only the sound of the crickets and horse hooves.
“What are you two doing in here?”
“Uh, oh.” I turned around and Nina was right there standing in the doorway, just glaring at us.
“Well?” she hissed.
“Um, well, ya see…” I had nothing. I could think of no excuse that would get us out of this… predicament and I couldn’t very well tell her what was really going on.
“I’m waiting,” then she started tapping her foot. (That’s when you know she’s pissed and that you had better answer her quick or face certain doom. In this case: her waking up my parents and us having to explain what was going on to them too!) I looked to Dray, silently telling him to help, please!
“Dray, we’ve got to tell her,” I sighed.
“Alright, whatever. But you’re doing all the talking.” (I really wish he hadn’t have said that.)
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” I groaned.
“So let me get this straight: your mother is having an affair with Marisol’s father?” Nina asked after we’d finished telling her what had happened that day. (And was no small task seeing how my darling sister kept interrupting.)
“Yep,” Dray and I responded.
“And you came over to talk with her because you were upset about it?”
“Yep.”
“Got it.”
“Good. Now are we off the hook?” I asked, cautiously.
“Nice try, little sis,” Nina said with that yeah-right-you-two-are-so-busted-no-matter-what-the-reason look that I thought only mothers used.
“You’re not going to tell Mom are you?”
“No but I’ll figure out a suitable punishment that I’m sure our parents would agree with had they been the one’s who caught you.”
“But Nina!” I whined.
“But nothing, Kasidi! You know you’re not supposed to be out here this late and with him! I thought you were going to tell me that you were pregnant when you said that, ‘Dray, we have to tell her,’” she snapped. (She is going to make a great mother someday.)
Dray and I looked each other. “If she is, it’s not my kid,” Dray joked, “Kasi, is there something you’d like to tell me?”
“Ha, ha, very funny. I don’t plan to have a family for at least ten more years.”
“Alright, guys. Dray, you had better get home and Kasidi you need to get back in the house and back to bed. Now march!” (Like I said: she’s going to be a great mother someday.)
“Go mustangs!!” my friend, Elizabeth, and I cheered. (I am so not going to have a voice after this and I have a concert on Tuesday! Oh, well.) We were killing Brickston High. 16 to zip, nada, nothing and it was only the second quarter! (What do you expect from the twelve year district champions?)
“M-U-S-T-A-N-G-S! Go, Mustangs!!” the cheerleaders chanted.
“M-U-S-T-A-N-G-S, Mustangs!” the crowd repeated back.
“Touchdown, Mustangs!” the MC blared. The Cannon High students all stood with their arms in the air, screeching at the top of their lungs. (And if you saw how many kids – and teachers, and parents, and even some of the Brickston High students – were there believe me, you’d know how loud it was!)
At half time the band got up and played a beautiful song (I must say: our band kicks ass!) and by the end of the third quarter the Brickston High students were starting to leave. (I guess they were a little embarrassed that their team was losing so badly.) But unlike them, Cannon High never left until the last player was off the field. (Unless you were a little freshman and didn’t know any better.)
“Kasi! Dray! Liz! Wait up!” we were heading out to Dray’s black Dodge Ram after the game (Final score was 34 to zero, by the way) when Carlos, the quarterback for the team came running towards us.
“Hey, Carlos, my man, way to go! You really showed those Brickston Stallions what’s what!” Dray cheered.
“Yeah, no one messes with the Mustangs!” I yelled, just loud enough to get everyone around me to turn and shout ‘Amen!’ then go about their own business.
“Mustangs suck!” some guy roared with his head sticking out his window. (Oh and you may want to know that this guy’s car was moving and he was the one driving!) So needless to say, he kinda drove his car straight into the flagpole. Everyone in the parking lot burst out laughing if they weren’t going to help the poor idiot.
“Like I said: no one messes with the Mustangs,” I said sheepishly.
“So are have you told your dad yet?” I asked Dray, tossing another piece of popcorn in my mouth. It had been a week since Mari told us about her dad and Dray’s mom.
“No, I just can’t figure out how to tell him.”
“Dray, he needs to know.”
“I know, I know but…”
“How’s about I go with you?”
“You’d do that?”
“Um, duh! What kind of girlfriend do you think I am?”
“The best!”
“I know but if you could just say it again.”
“Kasidi,” Dray said, hopping of the couch and getting on one knee, “you are the greatest girlfriend.”
“Hey, you two scoot over. Older sister with more popcorn comin’ through,” Nina shouted.
By the middle of the movie I was already playing that oh-so-terrified-chick-I-need-a-man-to-protect-me card so, needless to say, I had my face buried to Dray’s black, short-sleeved Pirates of the Caribbean shirt. It was right around that part where the guy in the front row yells like a complete retard, ‘Don’t go in there!’, when I heard a scream that I honestly didn’t think came from the movie.
“What was that?” I asked, not even trying to hide my concern.
“It was just the movie, Kas,” Dray responded, just as a girl screeched when the…er… monster (which, by the way, was really, really lame) just happens to be standing there when she pokes her head out from around the box.
“No, it came from outside.”
“Stop being paranoid, Kasidi,” Nina said, her eyes glued to the screen while she blindly slipped another piece of popcorn into her mouth.
“I’m not being paranoid, thank you very much!” I snapped, getting up and walking to the window and peered out, “I heard something.”
As I looked out the rain-spattered window I could help but think how weird it was: the fact that on the night where we were watching a horror movie and there are creepy noises happening outside is the night where we have a huge thunderstorm. (A bit awkward, isn’t it.) Staring out into the pale darkness, I thought I saw something. I tried to look harder to see if I could catch sight of it again. There it is! I thought hopefully. No, that was a squirrel. I rolled my eyes, wondering why it was always a squirrel.
“Wait a second,” I whispered. A dark figure was running like the devil himself was after it. (And it was certainly not a squirrel.)
“Kasidi, come back and sit down,” Nina groaned, not really paying attention to anything but the movie and the big bowl of popcorn resting in her lap. Of course just as she says that the ur… thing slips in a puddle and another um…thing comes up behind it and starts stabbing(?) it. Wait just a gosh darned New York minute! Stabbing?!?
“Hey you!” I yell, running like a flipping moron out into the pouring rain.
“Kasidi!” Dray and Nina shouted, jumping up, spilling the two massive bowls in the process, and rushing out the door after me.
By the time I reached the rather bizarro scene, the ‘stabber’ was already over the river, through the woods, and at grandmother’s house. All that remained was a little girl, who couldn’t possibly be older than twelve, weeping and shivering in a bloody rain puddle.
I knelt down easily, bringing the frightened child into my arms. “It’s alright now sweetheart, everything’s alright.”
Blood flowed away from the knife wounds left on her frail body with the gushing rain. She was breathing heavily, shaking uncontrollably as well. Nina and Dray both skidded to a stop beside us, the always animated, Dray, predictably crash landing onto the street making the girl giggle.
“Come on, Kasi, lets get her inside,” my sister hollered above the sound of the storm, her maternal instincts (and limitless common sense) kicking in instantaneously.
Inside, we cleaned her up, dressed her injuries, and put her in one of my many, many lameoushisly big t-shirts. The poor thing had classic signs of prolonged abuse. (I mean: broken arm, bruises, cuts, black eye, scars, the whole nine yards.)
“He can’t get in here? Can he?” she said, her voice raspy and cracking.
“No, he can’t,” I answered, not even knowing who ‘he’ was but not wanting to put her through any more stress. With that settled the broken child drifted into sleep, still in my arms. I kissed her head softly.
“How’s she doing?” Dray asked, setting a cup of tea on the coffee table and sitting down next to me.
“She’s just fallen asleep but she was definitely shaken. She asked if ‘he’ could get in.”
“She talking about that guy?”
“I think so. And why do you always assume it’s a guy? A woman could have easily done this,” I attempted to joke.
“’Cause a woman wouldn’t have the balls to do this,” Dray smirked, making me laugh, “And you said ‘he,’” he added, sipping his tea, his pinky in the air to show that he was teasing me.
“Neh!” I shot my tongue out at him.
I must have fallen asleep because what I thought was only a few seconds later, I awoke with a start. I looked at the small clock on the coffee table next to the couch. 4:38 AM. Now when did I fall asleep again? I wondered, rubbing my eyes and sliding my feet onto the floor and stepping on something. I looked down. It was Dray. I shook my head in amusement. He had apparently rolled off the couch and into the floor last night. Nina was fast asleep in the burgundy recliner on the other side of the room. The young girl was curled up in her arms, breathing lightly as she slept. Not really wanting to wait around and do nothing until they woke up or go back to sleep, I ran upstairs and threw on some loose, white sweat pants, my wrinkled CHS (that’s Cannon High School for those of you who don’t know) Mustangs t-shirt with the horse being shot out of cannon (lame, I know, but can assure you I did not come up with it), and my tennis shoes and jogged out the door.
The mares whinnied and stomped their feet as I pulled the creaky old barn door aside. They were ready to get out of their stalls obviously and wondering what had taken me so long.
“Hey, Venus!” I called to my horse in the second stall. The first was empty, the third held one of my other horses Moonstar Flame, and last but least there was my mom’s horse Leah. That’s just the left side though. On the right was Daisy Rose (who was Nina’s), Shadow Mist (belonged to Mom), and Roaming Angel (my dad’s). Venus (registered name: Venus Showgirl) was my 8-year-old, piebald, Arabian mare that stood at 14.3 hh high. Moonstar was a 9-year-old, 14.3 hh, gray, black, and chestnut, Arab/Paint mare. Then there’s Lady Leah Lynn, who was a 13-year-old, 16.2 hh, dark bay, Australian Stock Horse mare. Now for the right side again! Daisy: 15-year-old, 15.2 hh, skewbald, Morgan mare. Shadow: the three-year-old, 15.1 hh; piebald Quarter Horse filly. She’s the foal of our stallion Toad and Lizzie Deko’s horse Misty Gray. And don’t think I forgot little miss Angel. She was a 10-year-old, 15.1 hh, chestnut (with white markings) Mustang mare, who, although very slender and petite, was a spitfire who didn’t take any crap from anyone. (But is strangely good with children under ten.)
Comments (0)
You don't have permission to comment on this page.