Pulse of Heroes (8 page)

Michelle spent most of the weekend upstairs
in her room, although she was well on her way to recovery. She was
still weak and napped frequently. But when she wasn't napping, her
mind circulated back to the events at the mall. She went over every
little detail that she could remember, trying to figure out why the
whole thing felt so strange to her. She told herself time and time
again that whatever it was that she felt was so odd was probably
all in her mind. After all, it was the holidays, and perhaps Xander
was out with his family. Nothing strange about that, right? That
made perfect sense, right? And the fact that the guys all had
different skin colors and that one was obviously Asian shouldn't
really change the actuality that they could still all be part of
Xander’s family. She had read about many famous people that adopt
children from different countries and different continents as if
they were collecting wild butterflies from faraway forests and
jungles. Xander was obviously wealthy. He drove a fancy car and
wore expensive clothing, and had probably adopted all the guys
while traveling around the world. Yes, she thought, that was a
perfect explanation.

Later that afternoon Michelle attempted to
read a book, watch TV, and even played a game of cards with her
father. But no matter how hard she tried to concentrate on these
tasks, her mind wandered back to the scene at the mall. The whole
situation was starting to annoy Michelle, and she began making a
deliberate, conscious effort not to think about it anymore.

By the Monday morning of Michelle’s holiday
break from school, she was feeling like her old self again. She
woke up early, and was dressed and at the breakfast table before
her dad even left for work. She had a voracious appetite and helped
herself to seconds. Her parents were delighted, and her father was
relieved that she would be able to join them for the holiday dinner
at the mayor's house. After the table was cleared away and the
dishes dried and put back into the cabinet, her mom led her into
the living room where a large Christmas tree stood. Michelle was
surprised that it had been there the whole weekend and she hadn’t
even noticed it, not even by smell. She might have been a bit
cynical about Christmas, but was always powerless to resist the
fragrance of a fresh Christmas tree.

It used to be a family tradition that
everybody would pile into the car and go pick out the tree on one
of the many lots that dotted the area. This had continued even
after Toby left home. Michelle couldn't help but feel disappointed
that she missed it this year, and that her father had been forced
to go pick one out by himself while her mom was busy worrying over
her temperature. Michelle felt sorry for her father when she
imagined him walking around the Christmas tree lot all alone, cold
and wet without any of the rest of them there. She wished she could
have gone along with him.

The sound of rattling ornaments in a
cardboard box roused Michelle from her daydreaming. Usually, the
tree would have been decorated by now, but her mom had wanted to
wait until Michelle felt better. Every year it was the same ritual
of placing each ornament in just the perfect location, while her
mom retold the history and memories associated with it. When she
was little, her dad would hang them as she pointed out where they
should go. Michelle had heard the ornament stories God knows how
many times, and yet every time she heard them they still made her
smile.

“Mom, what’s that smell?” Michelle asked.

“Oh my gosh! The cookies! I hope they’re not
burning,” her mom answered in a panic, already rushing to the
kitchen. So while her mother was tending to her famous gingerbread
cookies, Michelle was left to finish up the tree on her own.

Michelle was nearing the last of the
ornaments when she came across one wrapped in white tissue paper.
She couldn’t remember ever having seen it before. It must be made
of glass, she thought as she unwrapped it, but to her surprise it
wasn't. It was an odd looking pear-shaped ceramic ornament, flat
and crudely made, and pressed into the lower section there was a
roundish disk that did look to be made of glass, but unlike any
glass Michelle had ever seen before. It had whirling colors of
blues and turquoise with iridescent specks of purple, gold, silver
and green. There was also some sort of crackling effect to it; it
almost looked like the glass was somehow peeling, not unlike the
colored layers of an abalone shell. Michelle moved closer to a lamp
to get a better view, but the light wasn’t bright enough. So she
walked into the downstairs bathroom where her parents had recently
replaced the regular light bulbs with new iridescent halogen ones.
Michelle was shocked. The little piece of glass was beyond
beautiful. It had so many layers of color and so much depth; it was
unbelievable. She kept tilting the ornament under the light, and as
she did so she was no longer looking at the glass but into blue
eyes. She had seen those eyes before, but only once. With a sudden
fear and realization she dropped the ornament straight into the
sink and it made a loud clank and crashing sound. It was those
eyes, the eyes belonging to the boy in the mall. They looked just
like that glass; that's what had made him seem so unusual. They had
layers of blue in them with specks of gold and silver around the
pupils. They were unlike any eyes she had ever seen before:
beautiful, gripping, stunning, not human, monstrous.

Michelle was startled by a knock on the door
and her mother's voice calling her, “Honey, is everything okay in
there?”

Somewhat frightened, Michelle looked down
into the sink. The ornament was lying there, shattered into bits
and pieces. “Yeah, I'm ok, Mom. I just dropped my cell phone,”
Michelle answered, trying to sound as normal as possible. She heard
her mother's footsteps walking back towards the kitchen. Guilt and
remorse swiftly filled Michelle's heart. There was no way she could
repair the damage, as some of the fragments were no more than dust.
She started wrapping the broken pieces in tissue paper, placing
them in the bottom of the garbage bin as quietly as she could. To
her surprise, the blue disk was still intact and lay beneath a
large shard. Michelle carefully picked up the glass and placed it
in her pocket. She washed her face and exited the bathroom as if
nothing had happened, heading straight to the kitchen to enjoy one
of the cookies while they were still warm.

Michelle contemplated whether she should call
Samantha and tell her everything that had happened at the mall. But
what if all this nonsense was completely made up in her head?
Samantha would surely think her crazy; she might even tell her mom
about it. No, she would definitely need more evidence of something
strange going on if she was going to share this with anyone. But
what kind of evidence could she get, and how? Michelle was
determined to come up with a plan.

Dinner that night was pleasant and festive
enough, although Toby was definitely missed during the holiday
vacation. They talked about that for a while, and eventually the
conversation led to talking about the important gathering they had
been invited to at the mayor's house. Her father had forgotten to
mention one crucial detail: it was a formal event. Michelle and her
mother immediately looked at one another, both with the same
thought on their mind. What were they going to wear?

“Daddy, you could've told me a little bit
earlier. I have nothing to wear.”

Her mother chimed in next, “Darling, you
could have given us a smidgen of information?”

Her father looked confused and almost hurt
when he answered that he had no idea it was such a big deal. Her
mother responded that in the bigger picture of things, it wasn't,
but that formalwear was a much bigger hassle for women than for men
because men pretty much all wear the same outfit to any formal
event and no one bats an eye.

Michelle agreed with her mother. “Yeah,
you're going to wear the same thing you do to your office every
day. All you have to do is wear a fancier tie and nice cufflinks,
and you're set.” Her father listened to her rationality and was
forced to agree. Michelle continued, “I have nothing to wear, not
even shoes.”

“What about the black and white dress that
you wore a couple years ago? It looked so pretty on you,” her
mother said.

The black and white dress was really nice,
but her mom was mistaken because the last time Michelle wore it was
actually more like four years ago. She had definitely grown since
she was 12 years old. Great, Michelle thought. They're going to
have to go back to the mall two days before Christmas. What a
freaking nightmare! There were always the small boutiques in town,
if she had the luck to find something that would fit and be
reasonably priced.

Michelle stood in front of her closet, her
feet surrounded by the different dresses turned inside out and
bundled like dirty laundry. She was sweating and frustrated. It's
not that Michelle didn't have any skirts or dresses, but they were
mostly cottony summery types. And the black and white dress was
completely out of the question. When she held it up against her
body, it looked like a little kid’s outfit. She just wanted to
scream! Just then, she heard her cell phone ringing from somewhere
in the room, but she couldn't locate it. She frantically searched
in her bed, under her pillow, then under the bed, but to no avail.
The phone rang its last rotation; if she didn't pick it up right
then and there it was going to be sent off to voicemail. Like a
star athlete, Michelle dove towards her closet and pretty much
belly-flopped onto the pile of clothes that was lying on the floor,
triumphantly emerging with phone in hand. She answered just in
time. It was Samantha.

Naturally, Samantha wondered why Michelle was
out of breath, and Michelle explained to her how the phone was lost
under the clothes, and why she had the clothes on the floor to
begin with. Although Samantha was sympathetic, what she really
wanted to talk about was the winter formal. In fact, she burst with
enthusiasm telling Michelle every little detail of the night, right
down to the kind of punch they served. Michelle was happy for
Samantha; she could imagine her smiling from cheek to cheek, and
she always got that little blush when she was really happy.

Of course, Michelle wished that she could
have been there too, and had a wonderful date like James who not
only got Samantha a corsage but also gave her a matching bouquet of
flowers.

“That's wonderful,” Michelle said to
Samantha. “You're lucky to have such a nice guy like James.”

Samantha immediately yelled back at Michelle
that she shouldn't forget that James was lucky to have someone like
her.

“Okay, okay. I didn't mean it like that. You
know exactly what I meant,” Michelle giggled while holding the cell
phone a few inches away from her ear.

When Samantha asked Michelle what she had
been up to, Michelle felt conflicted as to what to tell her, and
instead of answering there was a moment of uncomfortable silence
that lasted a little bit too long.

“Michelle, what's wrong?” Samantha asked,
sounding sincerely concerned.

Michelle had to think of something. “Oh,
nothing,” she answered. “I just spaced out a little bit. I think
it's from being sick you know.”

Samantha wasn't buying it. She knew Michelle
well enough to pick up on when there was something bothering her.
It didn't sound like Michelle was in one of her contemplative
moods; Michelle was holding something back, she was sure of it. But
she also knew how stubborn Michelle could be, and recognized that
trying to pry information out of her was a losing battle. Michelle
would tell her whatever she needed to when the time was right.

The girls made plans to meet the next morning
for an early walk and then Michelle was going to join Samantha's
family for a late breakfast. After hanging up, Michelle realized
that she had made a mistake by accepting Samantha's invitation,
because she and her mom were going to have to go back to the mall
to try and get something to wear for that stupid dinner. Oh well,
she thought, she’d have to eat fast.

The next morning was nicer than what was
expected. The weatherman had said that there was a 68% chance of
precipitation, but it was beautifully sunny and warm out. Michelle
knocked on Samantha’s door as quietly as possible so she wouldn’t
wake up the rest of the household, but when no one answered she
went to the side yard and began throwing the little prickly round
seeds that collected under the maple trees at Samantha’s bedroom
window. They were very light, and it was difficult to get them to
reach the second floor, so Michelle set out to find small pebbles
to get the job done right. She was actually surprised at how hard
it was to find any sort of rocks or gravel around Samantha's yard,
but eventually she came across a small cactus garden and gathered a
few pebbles from there. Michelle had a pretty good aim, and hit
Samantha's bedroom window on her first try. Samantha appeared at
the window and motioned to her that she was coming downstairs. A
few minutes later, Samantha was at the front door and immediately
gave Michelle a big hug.

“Why didn't you just text me?” Samantha
asked.

“Oh, I don't know. I've seen it done in the
movies so many times that I thought I should give it a try,”
Michelle answered jokingly. “Actually I left my cell at home,” she
added.

The girls started their walk slowly, but
every few minutes they added speed to their gait. Eventually, they
were fast-walking, so much so that they began sweating. About a
year ago Samantha's mom, who was a nurse, told Samantha that
jogging was actually quite traumatic to the joints and the knees,
and that fast-walking would burn the same amount of calories and
give her the right cardio exercise that she was looking for. When
the girls first began their fast-walking activities they felt very
self-conscious and uncomfortable because from the outside it looked
kind of silly. It was something that older people did, not
teenagers. But once they realized that they broke out sweating
within a couple of minutes, they decided to forget about what they
looked like to other people. Michelle thought that was very mature
of them.