Candlelight to Daylight

I am lost in the darkness again. Perhaps, I have gone blind from the blow to the head I received. Such fanciful thoughts have always intrigued small children. This blackness, however, holds the stench of Decay. I am nauseated by it, but I do not know where I am. I do not know how to escape. If only a small pinpoint of light could be seen in any direction, I would run to it and free myself from this dream.

Pillars of light fill the darkness that clouds my mind. Suddenly, I am awake, a cold sweat seeping from my pores as I sit up in the semi-darkness. As I move, so does a figure cloaked in candlelight across the room. Disoriented and confused, I open my mouth to scream, but somehow even the hideousness of the creature seems to be softened by the candlelight. It could also be the glasses that are perched on the barely existing nose of the huge ogre that Neesa referred to as Bo.

He sets his book down next to the flickering candle on the desk as he speaks to me softly, "Did the light from my candle awaken you?"

"Bo?" I ask, trying to figure out why he is in my room without actually asking.

"Big Ogre, actually," he more grunts than replies now, "Neesa is a creative one in a pinch."

I sit mulling this over for a moment. My head hurts too much for me to make sense of what is obviously a simple concept to him. He looks at me with apparent disinterest, waiting for me to continue. Somehow, I get the feeling he knows what my question is. Perhaps, it is a sign of respect or politeness that he waits for me to ask.

"Why are you in my room?"

"Neesa was needed elsewhere and wanted to make sure you were cared for. I volunteered because I figured I could get some reading done."

"Oh," I can think of no other reply.

"Which I can do if you will go back to sleep. You'll be safe. I assure you," he says with a smile and a wink.

Strangely comforted by the presence this hulking beast of a man who volunteered to protect me, I lie back down and pull the covers up to my chin. Though the pain in my head seems to have lessened I still drift quickly back into sleep.

~~~

My sleep was dreamless. At least, I don't remember any dreams this time. I awake to find Neesa leaning over me. Her face expresses concern and affection I wouldn't expect from someone that I have only just met. With everything I have been through, I can't find this odd, however. It just seems right. I blink before forcing a smile.

"Feeling well enough to go to school, darling Bella?" She asks.

"I dunno," I reply slowly sitting up to see how bad the pain in my head is.

As I sit up, she tilts my head forward. I wince a little bit as she gently pulls the hair aside. I hear her take in her breathe sharply before putting one hand under my chin to tilt my head upward. She peers into my eyes, anxiously seeking for something in their depths.

"Bella, darling, that's a nasty bruise on your head."

"But I have to go to school. It's only my second day."

"But you've got to be in pain."

"I can't let them beat me that easily, can I?" I reply defiantly.

"Such wisdom in one so young. You shouldn't have seen enough of the pain of this world to have such thoughts," Neesa says, "But if you want to go, we better get you ready."

In moments, she has my bag packed and ready to go. We walk in silence to the car, warmed by sunlight this morning instead of drenched by rain. I can still see clouds in the sky, but the chance of rain does not concern me. I am concerned about the chance of a renewed attack this morning. I do not wish to let their cruelty send me into hiding, but I do worry that their childish pranks will prove more painful.

I try to distract myself from this by immersing myself in the homework assignments that Mrs. Baxter had neatly stashed into the top of my backpack. Neesa allows me to work in silence though I see her eyes stray from the road to me a couple of times. We reach the school and she leans over to give me an affectionate hug before I step out of the car.

"Be good today, Bella," she says with a slight smile.

"Always," I reply as I swing the door closed and wave good-bye.

In moments, I am back in the classroom where Mrs. Baxter acts as if nothing went amiss yesterday. My head still aches terribly, but I try to ignore the pain. The aspirin that Neesa packed into my bag for me help a little, but a dull ache still punctuates the day, spiking every time there is a loud noise. Recess is outside, but Alfred has apparently been warned for he says nothing to me. I see Betty looking at me as if she wants me to join her, but her other friends get her attention before she can invite me to do so. It is Marjorie who comes to distract me from the pain in my head by showing me a new doll her mom got her.

As we are playing with the doll and discussing our first couple of days at this new school, I see Alfred watching us again. I can tell he is holding back. It is only a matter of time before even the thought of punishment will not deter him any longer. I find my lips moving before my mind has even begun to think.

"Next time, his pain he feels he must share, Let it be redirected to his underwear."

"What an odd thing to say," Marjorie says, looking at me quizzically.

"Yes, it is," I reply, blushing slightly.

"From what you told me about yesterday though, he would be getting what he asked for," she replies.

I nod to her. Internally, I sigh heavily. It seems so harmless, yet I really should have more control over the things that I do or rather say, especially knowing how much they have already changed my life. I am still mulling over this when we return from lunch to find a friendly little woman with a cart full of art supplies waiting at the door of the classroom.

"Miss Jamison, you're early," Mrs. Baxter says as she opens the door and ushers us inside.

Then the two adults follow with Miss Jamison in the lead pushing the cart of supplies. It turns out that once a week, the art teacher comes in and we get to make a project. Today's project, she explains to us is to make a thank you card for someone. Apparently, she feels that we all need to be a little more grateful for the people in our lives. I smile to myself because I know exactly who I am going to make a card for.

As I arrange the supplies that she provided on my desk, I hear a snicker from the back of the room. I half turn to see Alfred walking toward me with a pair of safety scissors and that devious look upon his face. He has closed half of the distance between our desks when he lets out a yelp of pain and falls to the floor, writhing in pain. My heart sinks because I know what has just happened.

"Alfred, quit being making a fuss," Mrs. Baxter says.

She marches down the aisle to grab him gently but firmly by the shoulders and pull him to his feet. She is instantly convinced this is no ploy to get out of doing his art assignment by the tears pouring down his pale face. He tries to struggle away from her, attempting to adjust his pants at the same time as slurred words come between sobs, "But...Mrs...Baxter...I...it...hurts..."

"Go to the nurse's office. I am sure she can help you," she says, realizing that whatever hurts is probably not something he wants shared with the whole class.

As he hobbles away toward the nurse's office, Alfred turns to look at his friends in the back of the room. This time there is no support from them. In fact, one of them is obviously trying to hold back gales of laughter. My heart aches for him in that moment. I feel incredibly guilty as I try to remember exactly what I said to bring such pain to him. Then it dawns on me that he was planning to do something to me with the scissors (probably give me a new hairstyle). My guilt fades away a little bit and I quietly go back to working on my "Thank You" card.

I carefully cut some shapes from gray construction paper and glue them to the card stock. In a matter of minutes, I have a very crude but friendly looking ogre gazing back at me. I draw a pair of glasses on his almost non-existent nose and write "Thank You" in lopsided bubble letters across the top. Betty looks at my work from her seat a few desks over and giggles. The art teacher is much less impressed, shaking her head sadly, but leaving me to my creative machinations. None of this affects me. I am just looking forward to presenting it to my new friend Bo.