The Familiar (3 page)

4

My alarm clock buzzes in my ear, jarring me out of my dream state. I lean on my pillow, and rub my eyes, realizing that it’s Friday, only one week till summer vacation. The dream weighs heavily on my mind, and as I start getting ready for school, unanswered questions bounce around in my head. As I pull one of Mom’s old summer dresses out of my closet and grab my favorite Doc Marten boots, I think about my father and suddenly something dawns on me. I open my sketchbook and turn to the drawing I had made of the stranger the day before. I stare at it and realize that it’s him, except in my drawing he looks more mature. I wonder how I had managed to create a mental picture of him, even before I knew what he looked like.

I glance at the clock and realize I’m going to be late. I rush downstairs, with my backpack on one shoulder, and find Mom wearing her Japanese robe and sipping her tea in the kitchen. I grab a piece of buttered toast and gulp down some juice.

“Gotta go Mom!” I say as I scamper out the door. She doesn’t even have a chance to say anything before I’m off, gliding down the street.

My dress ruffles in the wind as I speed through Main Street. Andy isn’t waiting by the tree and I wonder if he’s gone ahead without me. I run into school and jostle my way through the crowded hallway as the bell rings. When I reach my locker I jam my board in, slam it shut and race towards class, making it just as the warning bell rings.

Mr. Schmidt waves me in. “Saved by the bell, Hazel!” he says dramatically. I give him a slight sneer and slip into my seat. I quickly check my phone to see if Andy has sent me any messages, but see none. As Mr. Schmidt begins his lecture, I space out and think about my vision from last night. I wonder what Mom saw in my father and what connection they must have had to incite such a magnetic reaction. I picture them staring at each other across the large room. The heat of their gaze gives me a chill down my spine, making the hair on my arms stand on end. I feel a warm ripple, and when I look down, parts of my skin start growing blurry patches of black fur. My heart races as I raise my hand urgently.

Mr. Schmidt regards me impatiently. “What is it now, Hazel?”

“Uh… Sorry, I really have to go to the bathroom.”

He rolls his eyes. “If you really must, go ahead then.”

I fast walk out of the classroom, leaving my backpack behind. I slow down when I reach my locker, trying not to attract any attention. A few students and teachers pass me, but nobody gives me a second glance. I quietly open my locker and pull out my skateboard. The hallway leading to the exit is empty, and I walk as inconspicuously as possible, the squeaking of my boots fraying my nerves. I manage to reach the door without detection, and leap on my board without looking back. I can feel the ripples still radiating up and down my arms, and as I zip through Main Street, my lower back begins to pinch. As I pick up my pace, my heart beats out of my chest at the thought of shifting right in the middle of the street. I finally make it past town, and feel some relief when I turn the corner and see my house. I jump off the board and sprint down the mossy brick path.

I open the door and scream, “Mom!”

Suddenly my body stiffens, and I feel as though I’m falling. Mom runs towards me in slow motion as my body slams on the ground. While recovering from the shock, I’m disoriented and my body aches all over. Mom bends down on her knees, and I look around realizing that all my clothes are scattered in a pile around me. What used to be my body is now covered in silky black fur, and my hands and feet are now paws. I am stunned, but fascinated, as I study my feline limbs. She picks me up gently while pulling my underwear, which was hanging off my tail, and carries me into the kitchen.

“Oh, Hazel… This is happening too quickly.” She sets me down on the kitchen table and opens the fridge, pulling out a frosty glass bottle with a green liquid inside. “This is the tea you’ll have to drink until you can learn to control your powers,” she says as she grabs a small bowl out of the cupboard. She pours a few tablespoons of the tea into the bowl and sets it in front of me. “Drink it, Hazel. It will transform you back in a little while.”

I bend down awkwardly, not knowing exactly how my feline body works, but I manage to crane my neck, stick out my sandpaper tongue and take a few tentative licks. I work up a rhythm and quickly lap up all of the tea. She cradles me in her arms. “I’m going to bring you to bed now, you need to rest.”

Mom carries me to my room and places me gently on my bed. I feel kind of dazed, but my body instinctively curls up, burrowing in the warm spot between the blanket and my pillow. She pulls the curtains shut, and kisses me on my furry head. “Try to go to sleep honey. You’ll wake-up and be your old self again before you know it.”

5

The next morning, I open my eyes, shove my hand in front of my face and wiggle all my fingers. I’m relieved to see that I’m human again. The heavenly smell of pancakes wafts into my room, and I grin, knowing that it’s finally the weekend. After dressing in some black leggings and a long sleeve shirt, I pull my hair into a messy ponytail and head downstairs. The scent of sticky sweet maple syrup greets me as I saunter into the kitchen. Mom is already eating, so I grab a few pancakes off the warmer and slather them with extra butter and syrup.

“So, I take it you slept well?” she says while pouring herself some orange juice.

“Yes, I guess you could say I had a really long cat nap,” I reply jokingly.

“From now on, we have to make sure you drink your tea. We cannot afford any more accidents, okay?”

“Okay, Mom. I promise.”

I gobble down my pancakes and get a second helping. “I’m curious… How does the whole ceremony thing work anyway?”

Her eyes squint as if she’s picturing a distant memory. “Tell me what you remember from your vision the other night.”

I describe to her what I can recall, which feels bizarre since they are in fact her own memories.

She nods. The smile on her face so bright it’s clear that she’s feeling nostalgic. “Yes, that’s pretty accurate.”

I’m starting to feel anxious with all these life-altering situations being thrown my way. “Will the same thing happen to me? Will I even have a say in the matter?”

“Yes, it hasn’t changed much over the years. The order is steeped in tradition, so most of these things have stayed the same for hundreds of years… As for having a say in the matter, of course, everyone has the freedom to make their own choices, but most accept that the right decisions will be made for them. There is usually a reason for everything, even though it may not be apparent right away,” she explains.

I pause, take a breath, and contemplate my next question. “So, what was his name anyway? I guess I can’t call him my father without even knowing his name.”

“His name is Erik.”

I can see she still loves him by the way her eyes glint, tearing ever so slightly at the mention of his name. I realize now, that it must have hurt to keep something so important to her a secret for so long.

“What was he like?”

The glint in her eye is now accented by the rosiness of her cheeks. “Your father was really intense, thoughtful, intelligent, sometimes temperamental,” she says with a slight smile.

“Hmm… I guess he was a bit like me then?” I reply sarcastically.

She grins. “Well, actually, yes you are a lot like him. In many ways…”

“What happened to him? How could he have disappeared without a trace?”

Her eyes swirl tempestuously, and she hesitates before replying. “Hazel, you will learn soon enough that there is a lot of darkness in our world. I did everything I could, looked everywhere, spoke to anyone who knew him, and to this day, I still have no clue what happened to him.”

I see the pained expression on her face, and I know better than to continue pressing the matter. “Mom, I’m sure he’s somewhere out there… I have no doubt I’ll get to meet him one day.”

I lean in for an embrace. “Thanks for breakfast, Mom, delicious as always,” I say, getting up from the table. “I’m going to see what Andy is up to.”

“Okay, sweetie, have fun.”

When I get back to my room, I check my phone and see a message from Andy:

Sorry, I didn’t call you yesterday. I got a really bad stomach bug and was puking all morning. I’m feeling okay now, so if you’re up for a movie let me know.

I text back:

That’s funny, because I wasn’t feeling too hot myself. I wonder if we got the same bug? I’m up for a movie though, so let’s meet up for a matinee okay?

The phone beeps almost instantaneously:

Seriously? It totally must be the same bug, but hey, at least it was only the 24-hour kind. I’ll go get ready. See you in a bit.

I take a quick shower and wear my usual movie theater attire: baggy cargo pants, a ribbed tank top, a hoodie, and my Converse All Stars. I leave the house, with my hair still damp, and ride down to Main Street, where the small theater and main shopping hub of the town are. Andy is already waiting for me by the ticket booth. His hair is also still wet, but unlike me, he actually bothered to comb his, so that thick strands hang effortlessly around the frame of his face. His outfit is pretty much the guy version of what I have on.

“I’ll buy the tickets, you buy the snacks?” I say with a grin. Without waiting for a reply, I hand the guy at the ticket booth my money and hold up two fingers.

Andy gestures towards the snack bar inside. “Okay, I’ll go ahead and buy you your greasy popcorn.”

“Extra grease, please!” I say as he traipses away, shaking his head.

After buying the tickets, I find Andy at the snack counter trying to balance two tubs of popcorn, two giant sodas, and a box of Raisinettes in his arms. I save him from potential catastrophe, grabbing my popcorn and one of the sodas as he approaches.

“Thanks, this popcorn looks perfect,” I say, tossing a few kernels in my mouth.

He shakes his head while making the
tsk
sound with his tongue. “With the crap you eat, I won’t be surprised if you have coronary by the time you hit thirty.”

“That coming from the guy holding a large popcorn, Raisinettes, and a giant soda?”

“Everything in moderation,” he says defensively.

We enter the half empty theater and settle into seats at the back, sinking down and leaning our feet in the seats in front. The lights slowly dim and the movie begins. I zip up my hoodie and dig into my popcorn, as the title credits roll.

Being the only movie playing at the theater, we don’t have much choice, but we’re both sci-fi fans, so it’s something we’re looking forward to. In between buttery handfuls of popcorn, we gasp and shriek at the action on the screen. We even skip the obligatory sarcastic comment here and there. Towards the end, when the hero rescues his true love from being turned into a clone, a weight abruptly falls on my shoulder. I turn and find Andy asleep on me. I’m surprised, but feel guilty waking him. He looks so peaceful with his lips slightly parted and his hands still holding the half eaten box of Raisinettes against his chest. He usually only dozes off when I drag him to a romantic chick flick, so I brush it off as fatigue from his illness the day before. I let him nuzzle my shoulder until the movie ends. When the house lights illuminate the theater, he wakes with a start. I pretend not to notice, as I gather my things.

“That was pretty good, huh?” he says, suppressing a yawn.

I try not to laugh at him. “Yeah, especially that last scene, I can’t believe they ended it like that!”

Andy looks blank. “Uh, it was predictable though. I kinda saw it coming…”

I decide not to call him out on it and ruin his cool guy exterior. We grab our boards, and throw our trash in the garbage. In front of the theater, the weekend crowd mills around window-shopping and strolling, the kids holding balloons with ice cream dribbling down their chins as the sun begins to set. My stomach growls and I whine, “Can we grab a bite at the diner? I’m still hungry.”

Andy stares at me in disbelief. “Seriously? Who kidnapped my best friend and replaced her with a ravenous zombie?”

“Well, you coming or not?” I say as I stroll down the street, dodging shopping bags and strollers. Safe Harbor Diner has been a town institution for as long as I can remember. It still retains much of its retro décor, including the blue neon sign of a whale drinking a milkshake on the window. We enter and take two stools at the counter. Hannah, a senior from school, is busy making a milkshake. Her blue uniform and white apron matches her sparkly blue eyeliner to a T. She looks up at us, and fixes her frosty blonde hair as she eyes Andy.

“Hey, guys! What can I get for you?” she says in an overly chipper voice.

“I’ll have a grilled cheese sandwich with tomato, fries, a side of mayo, and chocolate milkshake.” She writes it down meticulously, even though I always order the same thing.

She glances over at Andy and smiles sweetly. “Hey, Andy, how about come coffee and a cherry pie? It’s freshly baked.” I raise an eyebrow and peek at him, anticipating his reaction.

“Just the black coffee, I guess,” he replies, oblivious to her subtle advances. Hannah walks away, looking mildly disappointed.

I lean over and whisper mischievously, “She’s totally into you, in case you didn’t notice.”

He scrunches his nose. “She’s just friendly… And even if she was, she’s not really my type.”

“Your type? Please enlighten me,” I say jokingly.

Andy blushes. “I don’t really have a type... When it’s there, you just know it.”

I playfully nudge his shoulder. “Well, if you just put in a little bit of effort, you could probably get most of the girls at school you know.”

His face gets even redder. “I’m not interested in those girls, and anyway, you shouldn’t have to make an effort for someone to be attracted to you. Just look at Mom and Dad… Every time he looks at her, it’s like the first time he laid eyes on her. I won’t settle for mediocrity,” he replies, obviously irritated by my line of questioning

I’m stunned by his response. “Well, you have a point, I suppose…” The awkward moment lingers as Hannah returns with my milkshake and Andy’s coffee. I take a long sip as I muster the courage to tell him about camp.

“So, I have something to tell you,” I announce.

He frowns and puts his coffee cup down on the counter. “What now?”

“My mom wants me to go to camp this summer… It’s an arts camp and I guess I’m going to give it a shot.”

Andy looks pleasantly surprised. “Really? That sounds awesome! I’m sure it’s a great opportunity.”

“Yeah, it is... I’m just a little nervous about the whole thing though… As you’re well aware of, I’m not really good at meeting new people, and just the thought of leaving town makes me kind of sad. Even though it’s only for a few weeks, you know I’ve never really been away from home before.”

Hannah brings my food, and I grab a fry and dip it into some mayo. “It sounds corny and all, but I’m really going to miss my mom, and… I guess I’m even going to miss my best friend.”

Andy’s eyes smile, the corners crinkling as he gazes at me. “I’m going to miss you, too.”

A moment passes, and I’m taken aback when he pulls me close and gives me an affectionate hug. My cheek rests on his neck and I can feel his heart beat as I lean into his chest. I break away, suddenly confused.

“Well, I hope you don’t forget me while I’m away,” I blurt out nervously, breaking the silence.

Andy steals a fry from my plate. “Of course not, that would be impossible.”

When I finish my food, we step outside, just as dusk is setting in on the bustling street. Andy covers his mouth, trying to hide a yawn. “I think you need to go home and get some rest. I have to go and start prepping for my trip anyway,” I suggest.

“I guess I’m still kind of tired from that stomach bug,” he says, making a face. “Oh, and by the way, you know my mom is probably going to want to throw you a bon voyage dinner, right?”

“Sure, why not. It’ll be nice,” I tell him.

He hops on his skateboard and pushes off in one fluid motion. “Catch ya later,” he says, his voice drifting away. I watch him till he’s out of sight, and then head the opposite direction.

When I get home, the light is peeking from underneath the door of Mom’s studio. She must be in the middle of one of her all night painting sessions, which usually means it’s best not to disturb her. I go up to my bedroom, kick off my shoes, and grab my sketchbook before plopping down on my bed. The blank page stares at me from my lap as I take out my pencils, and close my eyes, trying to visualize my father’s face again. It comes to me clearly; my hands draw at a frenzied pace, quickly adding details as I remember them. After fifteen minutes, I stop and look down at my work, studying his face, satisfied that I’ve captured him even better than before. I write his name “Erik” on the corner underneath his likeness, and close the sketchbook, yawning while I set it aside. My pants slip off easily, and I toss them on the floor before curling up underneath my blanket, falling asleep almost immediately as my head finds the perfect spot on the mountain of pillows.

My subconscious goes from a fuzzy blackness to a vivid scene of my parents. It’s as if someone has turned on a TV and its screen flashes from darkness to a scene in the middle of a movie.

Mom is leaning on a kitchen counter, pressing oranges into juice. Her long hair falls down her back in thick, luxuriant waves. It looks like she’s just rolled out of bed with only her panties and a slightly wrinkled white man’s button down shirt. My father is wearing boxers and a plain white t-shirt. His body is more muscular than I had previously remembered, and his hair is overgrown, wavy, tousled from sleep. He’s frying eggs and placing them onto plates. They’re laughing, and making jokes at one another, though I can’t hear what they are saying, since the scene seems to be on mute. As they sit on the kitchen stools eating, they gaze into each other’s eyes, and it’s obvious that they are in love.