June
The sun’s rays seeped through my curtains illuminating my small, light blue room. The blindingly bright light forced me awake and marked today as a new day.
Today was the first day of summer break in this tiny town of Darrington, Washington. After this little break I would soon be in my junior year at Darrington Highschool.
I got up unwillingly and fixed my bed half-asleep. I dragged my feet down the stairs and went straight to the kitchen where my mom was cooking strawberry pancakes and scrambled eggs. The sweet aroma of the strawberries filled the air making my mouth involuntarily water.
My mother, Irene, was a short and plump, middle-aged woman: she had short, jet black hair, and wise black eyes. She was the typical mom.
I stood next to her while she flipped the pancakes over our tiny stove.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” She greeted me.
“Mornin’ mom.” I yawned loudly.
“Did you get much sleep? You look worn out.” She asked while sat a plate full of food down on our shabby table.
I leaned onto the stove and before I could answer, I yawned even louder.
I suddenly felt a tingly warm feeling on my left hand.
“Natalie, take your hand off that!” She yelled at me.
I realized too late that my hand was placed on the burning hot stove. I lifted my hand to see how much damage I had done this time. Sure enough there was a bloody burn on my palm, and like so many other injuries I had before, I couldn’t feel the pain.
While I stared at the wound, Irene rushed to the fridge and took the butter out. She hurried over to my side, and applied it on my burn.
My bright red palm slowly turned to its regular color, though the new scab was still a little bloody.
Irene wrapped my hand with a bandage, and she turned to her regular color too.
“Calm down, mom.” I soothed her.
She looked up and smiled, embarrassed, “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. After all these years, I still panic when you get hurt, how silly.” She laughed nervously.
“Not silly, just careful.” I kissed her on the forehead.
Irene has always been cautious of me, even when it was little things like scratches and little booboos.
I sort of had this disorder called ‘congenital indifference to pain analogous’ which basically means that I could not, in anyway, feel pain.
The doctors said that it had something to do with my nerves, and that there was a specific nerve that sent signals to the brain if something was ‘hurting’ me. But I guess mine wasn’t working right.
My parents didn’t find out that I had this disorder until I was a year and a half years old. It was when I tried to walk but fell forward into a glass cabinet. Then on the way to the emergency room, I was smiling like I didn’t have a care in the world.
That was how I was diagnosed with CIPA. Ever since then my mom has been a teensy bit, too much protective of me (my dad gave up on dealing with my sickness just recently last year).
Even though I had CIPA, Irene let me live my life and allowed me to go to school with the normal kids.
Some kids showed pity towards me because of my sickness, and others chose to ridicule me. I remembered coming home with bruises because the kids challenged me and said that my sickness was fake and that I could feel pain. To prove their points they would push me down the stairs or trip me on purpose.
That part of my life was harder for Irene than it was for me since she was uncertain on whether letting me go to school with other kids or pulling me out and home schooling me. I was able to successfully convince her to let me try to be normal and go to school with other kids.
Out of all the other children, I’ve managed to make a few friends that, didn’t understand what I was going through but, knew that I was still an ordinary person and liked my personalities.
One particular friend was Jason Yullie.
He has been my friend since we were born- we were born coincidentally on the same day, he’s older by a few hours. His dad and my mom were best friends since their childhoods too, and our families have never been apart.
He stood up for me when the older boys patronized me, and he kept me from making bad decisions. He and I enjoyed the same hobbies and each others’ company. We were inseparable.
Irene drank a cup of water to clear her head.
“So you and Jason up to anything today?” She asked to change the subject.
“I think we’re gonna hit the reserve today.” I replied with a mouthful of pancakes.
“Say hi to Lone for me, okay?” She got up to wash her plate.
Suddenly a light tap rattled against the front door, beating a familiar rhythm.
Irene and I both recognized who it was right away.
“Come in, Jason!” Irene shouted. We listened as the door unlocked- we thought it would be better if Jason had his own key to our house since he was here most of the time.
Jason strolled into the kitchen with the big smile he wore so well. His bright teeth shown great contrast with his tan face- I didn’t know how he could be so tan when we lived in a rainy, snowy town(maybe its because we were Sauk- Suiattle).
His hair was in its usual disheveled state, with his dark brown bangs partially covering his soft, dark brown eyes.
He wore a white t-shirt, and his favorite faded denim jeans.
“Good morning, Ms. Roze,” He greeted my mom politely, “Mornin’, Natie,” He grinned at me.
“Hi, Jason,” I smiled back.
He sat in the seat next to mine, grabbed my plate, and started to eat my leftovers- he didn’t like wasting food so he usually ate the food that I never finished (he was like an overgrown dog).
Irene stared at him uncomfortably.
I spoke her mind, “Jason, you know how much my mom feels weird about you eating my scraps. Why can’t you just get your own plate?”
He ate the last piece of my pancake, wiped his mouth then answered, “I’m fine, really. I’m too lazy to get my own plate anyways. When you start to eat all your food is when I’ll start to get my own plate.” He stated matter-of-factly.
“Ms. Roze, that was delicious.” He complimented my mom.
“Thank you Jason,” She said as she wiped her hands on a towel. “Natalie, give Jason whatever he needs. I have to get to work now. Love you tons baby.” She kissed me on the forehead then walked out the front door.
Jason and I cleaned up the kitchen- splashing each other with water in between cleaning.
“What are we gonna do today? Are we really going to the reserve?” I asked when we were finished.
“Yeah, but I thought you’d wanna go mountain climbing first.”
“Fine with me…Get the equipment ready while I get changed.”
“Sure. Don’t take too long.” He answered as he went to the basement.
I quickly took a shower, brushed my teeth and hair, and changed into white jeans, a tight blue turtle-neck, a thick white parka and my hiking boots.
I met up with Jason down stairs; he went to go start his black 1998 Jeep Cherokee while I locked the doors.
On my way to Jason’s jeep, I noticed a moving van in front of the house next to mine- nobody has ever lived in that house since Irene and I moved here.
The moving van suddenly started with a huge POP, then drove away. I walked over to the house to quickly greet the new neighbors.
There were only two people inside.
As soon as I stood before their house, a strange, sweet scent filled my lungs; the icky, syrupy aroma burned my nose, but made my mouth water.
I ignored it and knocked on the screen door a bit harder than I expected, I waited to hear something fall since I knew that was bound to startle someone. Instead, one of them hurried to one of the rooms and in less than five seconds the other one showed up in front of me.
I caught my breath as I looked at his face.



RemiWriter
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