Chapter Four

54 4 4
                                    

In which Adriel gets better acquainted.

------------------------------------------------

After supper I went up to my room and looked out my window. Everything was much too quiet and I didn’t like it. I went to my music collection and after much consideration selected a tape I hadn’t played much recently. When the rebellious western rhythms of Bon Jovi’s “Blaze of Glory” filled the room it made me feel better. I half-expected Allain or Ian or Averill to come pound on my door, but none of them did. Maybe they felt the same way as I did.

I took Bubblegum and drifted out on the balcony and curled up on the settee amid the gaily-colored cushions Mom had put there. She had made it into a sort of boudoir, with hanging plants and bright fabrics. It was warm and cozy, but it was too open, too near to the right outside—too still, too hushed, too alien and scary. Behind me the music swelled likes a symbol of the real world, something only a few steps away, but out of reach at the moment. The defiant sound made me think of Mike, and I looked towards their house. There were no lights there. It was completely, totally dark in comparison to the cheery twinkling lights from the barrio lower down.

Quite suddenly the whole thing scared me. I knew it was irrational, but I retreated into my room, into the magic circle of the music, as if nothing could touch me there. Once again I stretched out on the floor to think.

I must have fallen asleep there, for the next thing I knew, I woke up with a snap, a bit disoriented, wandering what had woken me up and why was it so cold, where was my blanket? Then I realized that what had woken me was the sound of someone screaming his head off—the echo still lingered in the night. It couldn’t have been the TV—nobody ever turned it up loud enough to be heard upstairs especially at night—or the stereo, because that had already been off for sometime. Then I realized where I was and that it was cold because I had forgotten to close the window. I ran to it and leaned out into the night. Lights were flashing on in houses down below.

As previously mentioned, my position afforded a clear and proximate view of the Flores house. As I watched, a light flickered into view. The kitchen door slowly opened. I strained to see as a figure entered. Goosebumps blossomed when I registered that it was a figure in white, carrying what appeared to be a lighted candle. I didn’t wait to see more, but shut the window and barred it securely, then jumped into bed and huddled deep under the covers in the middle of all my pillows. The next thing I knew, Mom was knocking on my door and asking why I hadn’t turned off my lights. I stuck my head out to look at my watch. It was ten in the morning and all of a sudden I felt warm.

Sheepishly I opened my windows, turned off my lights, put on a tape, made my bed, bathed, dressed, and ran downstairs for breakfast. And then I didn’t know what was the matter with me.i kept going to my bedroom, then to the balcony, then down to the kitchen, the living room, out to the garden, and all over again, like I had something urgent to do but I hadn’t the faintest idea what it was. Allain, who was blissfully strumming away sprawled on the living room sofa, even put down his guitar once or twice to stare perplexedly at me. Finally Mom complained I was making her dizzy and would I help her in the garden if I had nothing better to do, and I quickly beat it back to my room. But even Boyzone couldn’t make me relax, so I snitched some of Ian’s tapes and put them on. At least they were more recent than Allain’s Elvis, Beatles, and Simon and Garfunkel Collection. Ian was hooked on Air Supply, Bread, Chicago, the Eagles, Led Zeppelin, Jefferson Starship, and other ‘70’s, ‘80’s, and early ‘90’s bands. I actually found some heavy metal, and for once the chaos made me feel right at home. Ian stuck his head in once or twice to comment on my choice of sounds, but after I hit him with a couple of pillows he didn’t come back and I was left to my sounds and my own churning thoughts.

Adriel [Completed]Where stories live. Discover now