Dancing In the Rain

When I was little, I had a huge imagination.

One of the products of said imagination was a Chocolate Milk monster. Big, brown, and gloppy, this monster was exactly what his name implies. 

And yes, let’s be honest. Even though I’m 17 now, the Chocolate Milk monster still holds a special place in my heart.

—

Outside, a gentle rain is falling.
I run out to meet the cloudy sky, the grass rustling beneath my bare feet. Ryan stands in the dim shelter of the porch, arms folded, a sullen expression on his face. Teardrops start to splatter my hair, my eyelashes, and I love it.
“Come on, Ryan,” I yell. “A little rain never hurt anybody.”
“I’m afraid I might melt.”
“I can’t say I’d regret it if you did.”
He doesn’t respond. So I do the natural thing. I start to dance.
The rain intensifies as I whirl around in my front yard, holding an invisible partner close. The raindrops crash upon the ground, denting the earth.
“What are you doing?”
“Dancing!” Raindrops blur my vision and I’m completely soaked.
“What?!” Clearly, he can’t hear me.
“I’m dancing! Come on, it’s fun!”
“I don’t dance.”
“You have to be lying!” This entire conversation has been screamed at the top of our lungs to be heard over the rain.
“I hate it!”
“So? Have some bravery for once.”
He doesn’t respond. But he does take two steps forward.
“I dare you, Ryan!”
The silence is almost louder than the thunder. He just continues to stare at me. I ignore him and continue my waltz.
When I look over, he’s on the first step, looking up at our leaky drainpipe and wincing as raindrops fall into his face.
“This is good. I didn’t know you had the guts.”
“I have the guts. Whether I have the stupidity is another matter.”
“Well, you’re here, aren’t you? Might as well go all the way. And being stupid is only fun when you’re with someone else.”
“You’re calling me stupid?”
“More or less.”
Ryan descends the rest of the staircase, and kneels to pick up some of the earth, which has now turned into a sloppy, yucky mud.
“I didn’t know you made mud pies,” I comment. Right before he slings a handful of mud in my face.
I close my eyes as mud runs into my mouth and ears and nose. It’s everywhere.
And Ryan’s going to pay.
I brush enough mud out of my eyes to where I can see, and then kneel. Mud squeezes through my fingers into a ball. I wind my arm back and… take too long to aim. Ryan’s ready for me, and he takes off running across the yard. He knows it’s even harder to hit a moving target. Smart man.
And then I hear something, beyond the rain, beyond the thunder. Laughter.
Ryan’s laughing.
Naturally, this provokes a joyous reaction in me because I’ve never heard him laugh before. And the fact that he’s even capable of such a thing cheers me up more than I can say.
So now Ryan and I are chasing each other around the yard, laughing.
This is fun.
I still have the ball of mud in my hand, so I easily catch up to him and then smush the mud into his shoulder.
“Avary!” His tone is a mixture of surprise and irritation. “This is a new shirt.”
“Oh.” We both pause, standing about five feet away from each other. “I’m not really that sorry for you.”
“I’m glad you have such sympathy for a fellow human being.” He bends down and seizes more mud. Then, either because I let him or I didn’t have enough time to react, he throws it. At me. Point blank.
More mud splashes into my face, making my eyes burn. A gritty taste fills my mouth.
He stands there, watching me react, chuckling as he does so.
“Nice, Ryan. Real nice.” I bring my hand from behind my back, and throw some mud into his face. “Right back at’cha, bro.”
“Maybe we should call a truce?” He blinks, his face coated in slime.
“No way. I don’t surrender that easily.” I take off running. “It’s your move now!”
What Ryan doesn’t know is that I have an arsenal. Recently my dad has been trying to landscape our yard. This results in a giant pile of dirt in our backyard. A pile of dirt which should now be a pile of mud. A giant, glorious pile of mud.
In other words: ammunition.
I run back and crouch behind the pile, waiting for Ryan to make his appearance. But he doesn’t show. I use the time while I’m waiting, muscles poised and heart beating, to make a pile of mud balls. When he does show up, I’ll be ready.
“Avary?” Ryan waltzes into the center of the yard, coming to a stop after a staggering run. “Did you give up already?”
I press my fist over my mouth to stifle a giggle. The laughter burns inside my lungs.
“Come on, are you really that weak? Hiding away like a coward.”
Oh, that’s just low.
He paces forward a few feet. Almost within range. “Are you too scared to finish what you start?”
Oh, if only he knew.
I bite my lip, silently urging him to move forward as if I can influence his actions by my thoughts. Come on… just a little bit closer…
“Well, I guess I’ll go back inside then and clean up. Might as well end this petty war—since I’ve obviously won it.”
This provokes me into action, and I leap from behind my hiding place without taking the time to consider my actions. I have two handfuls of mud at the ready, and countless more within reach. “I’m right here, Ryan. And this is far from over.”
“Oh. So Avary Townsend isn’t a coward after all.” He tosses me a cocky grin as he squats near the ground, molding the mud into another missile. “I thought not.”
“I’m glad you didn’t underestimate me. From what you were saying, I was afraid you had.” It occurs to me that I should have used the element of surprise and fired the mud minutes ago instead of just jumping out in front of him stupidly. Yet at the same time, this is kind of fun. I always did enjoy verbal sparring.
“No, that was just to goad you into coming out, and from the looks of it, that worked.” He grins and stands, slapping his hand against the ball of mud as if to intimidate you. Slip slap slop.
“You’re right, it did.” I squish my fingers deeper into the mud in my hands, preparing to aim. “And this time, I’m ready.”
I fire both of the weapons at him in quick succession, and then run around behind the dirt pile for more. He’s still recovering from the first two blows by the time I send two more. I continue this tactic for about the next five minutes, until Ryan wises up to what I’m doing.
“Sheesh, how much mud do you have back there?”
I gesture to the giant mud pile, as if its presence should be self-explanatory.
“Oh, come on. That’s not fair play. You can’t hoard that all to yourself.”
“It’s my property.”
“Correction: it is your dad’s property. And as such, I’ve been hired to work here, so I have just as much right to work here as you do.”
“That’s ridiculous logic, and you know it.” I grin and grab two more mud balls. This time, though, Ryan is ready. He’s got two more of his own to fire back. We continue this ridiculous game of fire and respond until I run out of prepared mud balls.
“Well, I guess that’s it then. I’m all out of mud.”
“Not so. You have that entire hill at your disposal.”
I quirk an eyebrow at him. “True.”
Without a word I run back behind, my trainers slapping against the mud. I’m soaked. And covered in mud. Even better.
Then, without further ado, I grab an armful of mud. Yes, that’s right—not just handfuls. An armful. Basically, I give the dirt pile a hug and then take the mud with me.
And throw it at Ryan.
Because I’m awesome like that.
It lands on him with a giant plop, blowing away any preconceived notions I had about cliché sound effects. And he looks like the giant Chocolate Milk monster come to life.
“Oh my gosh. You look terrible, Ryan.”
He just shakes his head in a perfect deadpan reaction. Thankfully, the rain is still coming down like a showerhead on steroids, so it won’t be long before the mud gets washed away—well, most of it. His clothes are likely to be stained forever. Like mine.
So it is that our fighting comes to an end. Or at least, I’d like to think that. Ryan seems to be too irritated to continue.
At least, that’s what I think as I turn my back and walk away in a triumphant mental high. But when I get a bucket-load of mud sloshed across my shoulders, I think differently.
I stop dead in my tracks, then whirl to face him. I can feel the mud dripping down my back. Ryan has spared no expense in getting me completely dirty. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“At least it wasn’t in your face. I was sorely tempted to do that instead.”
“Well, thanks. You’re so nice.” I can’t help but grimace at how gloppy the mess is. Then an idea sparks in my brain. “Okay, now that we’ve had your fun, and I’ve played your game, it’s my turn.”
“Your turn for what?”
“To show you how to dance.”
“Whoa, whoa. I said, I don’t dance.” He holds his hands up in surrender.
“Yet. You don’t dance yet.”
I squint up at the sky. The rain has softened, gently touching the earth with its drops. “Come on, Ryan. Are you scared?”
“No… I’m just wondering what my boss will say when he sees me dancing with his daughter.”
“Oh, don’t worry, it happens all the time.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Do you always dance with the hired men?”
“Only the special ones.” I close the distance between him. “We’re out here anyway. Here. Hold my hand.”
“This isn’t at all awkward to you, is it?”
“Uh… yes, it is. But I’m willing to risk it. If only to see the expression on your face.”
“You’re so kind.” He rolls his eyes. “I really need to get back to work.”
I hold up a hand. “Not yet.” Then I grab his right hand and lace my fingers through his, and then take his left hand and put it on my hip. “To spare you the difficulty, I’ll let you know that this is indeed as awkward for me as it is for you.”
He doesn’t respond, but I can see a slight grin on his mud-stained face. I inhale sharply and tell him the steps. Considering I haven’t danced in a while, it’s difficult for even me to remember how to do this.
A thought occurs to me. I really, really hope that Dad doesn’t come home right now. Because contrary to popular opinion, I don’t dance with the hired men. Ever.
“Okay, so… are you ready?” I whoosh out another breath after relating the steps to him in what I can only hope were coherent instructions.
“I, uh…” He pauses and stares down at our feet. They’re incredibly close. His boots are toe-to-toe with my sneakers, and they’re both speckled with muddy splatter-marks. “No. I’m not ready. And my apologies if I step on your toes.”
I give him a scrutinizing glare. “Are you ever going to be ready?”
“Probably not.”
“Well, might as well start now.” Without further warning, I start leading—despite the fact that I’m not the guy and technically Ryan should be the one leading. Right now, though, I don’t trust him enough to let him lead. Probably because he has no clue what he’s doing, and that slightly concerns me.
“Whoa—I’m not ready.”
I laugh. “Too late.”
“Where’s the music?”
“Don’t you hear it?” I nod my head to the rain. “It’s all around.”
He shakes his head. Probably surprised by my sappiness. I don’t really care.
“You’re so different, Avary.” He says this a few minutes later. “I’ve never met anyone else like you.”
I hesitate. “Is this a good thing?”
“I don’t know.” He stares at me. “I hope so.”
“Why do you leave all the time, Ryan?” I tip my head. I didn’t have a chance to think about what I was saying, but now it’s out in the open. Might as well go with it.
“I can’t stay in one place. I just… can’t.” He shakes his head. “It messes with my mind.”
“I don’t think that’s all.”
“I’m a wanderer, Ava. That’s all there is to it.”
I still don’t believe him. But another matter is at hand, one I feel like I need to address. “Ava?”
“Doesn’t everyone call you that?”
“No. And certainly not my father’s hired men.”
“Oh. My apologies then.”
“No… I like it.”
Then we fall into a comfortable silence as we dance. The rain has turned into a drizzle, and I can see a break in the clouds.
Ryan’s not a half-bad partner. His feet move expertly, sloshing in the mud. “I think we could stop now.”
I feign surprise, letting my jaw open even wider. “Oh, come on. Why?”
“The rain’s stopping. Not much point in dancing in the sunshine, is there?”
I lift my shoulders in a shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe there is, maybe there isn’t. And maybe we should dance all the time.”
“That would get really tiring, don’t you think?”
“I meant it as a metaphor.”
“Dancing through life, huh?” He laughs, and it appears like a bitter one to me. “Yeah, sounds like a great idea.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“Well, I only wish life was as easy as you made it sound.”
“You know what? I wish life was as easy as I make it sound, too.”
“You mean your cheesy sayings aren’t all what they cracked up to be?”
“What cheesy sayings?” I stop, wondering if what he’s saying is really true. “I don’t have cheesy sayings.”
“Yes, you do. ‘Dancing through life’?”
“Well, it’s a nice thought, if you think about it. Then again, I’m not sure if you have a brain.”
“Hey! You’re not one to give compliments, are you?”
“Only when they’re deserved. So in that case, Ryan, you are a very good dancer.”
He seems taken aback by this, but only for a moment. “Well, in that case, now that I’ve earned your approval… I’m done.”
I stop, remove my sweaty palms from his, and brush them together in an effort to clear off both the dried mud and the sweat. My efforts aren’t very successful. “Fine, then. Good. I’m getting tired anyway.”
Ryan laughs as he walks over to the porch steps and sits down. “I’m thoroughly tired out.”
“Not to be a killjoy here, but you’re not done with what my dad asked you to do.”
“Don’t remind me.” He moans. “Do you have anything to drink?”
“Just lemonade.”
“That sounds heavenly.”
“Well, come on inside and I’ll get you some.”
We pause, and both look down at our mud-covered selves. “Then again,” I continue, “that could pose a problem.”
“Tiptoe across the linoleum floor,” he suggests. “Not like that would help… we’d drop flakes of mud no matter what we do.”
“Dang.” I sit down next to him. “Well, we could get cleaned up.”
“How? I don’t suppose you have an outdoor bathtub.”
“No, but I do have a hose.”
“That… would be cold.”
“Aw, come on, where’s your sense of adventure, man?”
He stares at me and laughs. “You are weird.”
“Maybe so, but come on. I’ll spray you first.”
“No!”
“I don’t think you have a choice in the matter—you have to get cleaned up before you can return to work. Or do anything else, for that matter.” I grab his fingers and pull. “Come. On!”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this…” he mutters.
“I’ve decided something, Ryan. You’re no fun.”
“And your point is?”
“Relax. Lighten up. Have some fun every once in a while. It’ll do you a world of good.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing for the past two hours?”
“Exactly. Don’t you want to continue having fun?”
“No. Not if it involves you, because I could very well lose my job.”
“Well, you’re already involved with me, so just get over here.” I finally mange to yank him to the side of the house. I uncoil the hose and turn the metal spicket. “Here. It’ll be cold, but worth it.” I aim it directly at him, resisting the urge to aim it at his face.
He shrieks like a little girl when the water comes on. Can’t say I blame him, but it is still a humorous sight to behold. I’m laughing so hard that I can’t hold onto the hose. Before I know it, the water pressure yanks the nozzle out of my grasp and the hose goes crazy. Twisting all over the place, it douses Ryan and us both thoroughly. It’s going to take me forever to get clean. And dry.
After I erupt in screams slash hysterical laughter, I manage to grab the hose. I have possession of it for about two seconds before Ryan wrestles it out of my grasp. “Okay, Miss Ava—it is officially your turn.”
Then he proceeds to shoot water into my face. Up my nose. I scream, a gargled sound that’s muffled by the sound of volatile water. “Ryan—” I hold my hands up to block the incessant spray of stinging water, but it does no good. I splutter. Dance around a few steps. Then finally get smart enough to duck, which gets me out of the spray for now. Except for the fact that Ryan has chosen to re-aim. He shoots it at my face. Again.
At this rate, I’m going to suffocate. It’s going to be a swift and tragic death for me.
Finally, after who knows how long, the water ceases. I fall onto the ground, coughing up a lung.
“Ryan,” I manage to eke out. “I pretty much hate you right now.”
He’s doubled over laughing.
“You stink.” I shake my head, rubbing the water off my face and shaking it into droplets on the ground.
“Well, at least we’re both clean.”
I look down at my clothes. He’s got a point. “Well… yeah… but still, that was cruel.”
“Welcome to life, Avary.” He actually smiles. “Now can I have some lemonade?”
I just stare at him. “Are you serious? You think I’m going to give you lemonade after what you did to me?”
“Uh… yeah…”
“Well then, you are correct. But only because I want some too.” I toss a grin over my shoulder as I head up the porch steps. “Be right back.”
Aside from being sopping wet and dripping water all over the kitchen floor, grabbing two glasses of lemonade proves to be a cinch. I pour them into Mason jars, my favorite type of glass even though it’s not really a glass at all. When I come back out, Ryan’s sitting on the porch waiting for me.
“I really need to get back to work.” He runs a hand through his hair as I descend the steps. We both know that he needs to get back to work. But he’s not going back to work yet. And somehow, we both know that.
“Yeah, you do.” I hand him the glass of lemonade, and he thanks me for it. At least Ryan still has manners, though he can get quite cruel when wielding a hose. “But we both know that you’re going to drink your lemonade first.”
“Yeah, probably.” He sighs. “And you’re ruining my job. I hope your dad doesn’t fire me.”
“You’ve mentioned this before. If you’re really that worried about it, I’ll put in a good word for you.”
“Would you?”
“No.”
“Oh. Well, it was kind of you to offer.” An edge of sarcasm coats his voice, and I definitely don’t fail to notice it.
“Yeah.” I nod to his Mason jar. “How’s your lemonade?”
“Good. Delicious, even.” He closes his eyes. “I haven’t had lemonade like this since I was a little boy.”
“No? How could you live that long without lemonade?”
“Believe me, I had much more important things to worry about.”
“Yeah… I guess so.” I sip the yellow, tangy liquid. “But lemonade can help cure even the biggest of ills.”
He takes another swig. “I suppose so.”
After a few moments of silence, Ryan speaks again. “So, who do you think won the war?”
“Of our water fight?” I ask, and he nods in confirmation. “Well, I don’t know. I think I did. But I suppose to be fair I’ll have to concede to calling it a stalemate.”
“I demand a rematch. Someday.”
I smile. “Bring it on.”
So as we sit on the porch steps, partaking in some of the greatest lemonade known to mankind, I can’t help but think of what I’ve gained today. I’ve gained a friend. And an enemy.
And maybe, just maybe, something much more.

Here we are now with the falling sky and the rain

We’re awakening.

Here we are now with the desperate youth and pain

We’re awakening

Maybe it’s called ambition

But you’ve been talking in your sleep

About a dream

We’re awakening

Dream a little bigger, darling.

The wind whips through my hair, the weathered wood underneath my feet. I close my eyes and feel the spray of salt across my cheeks. This is the closest I've been to hope since I left Emasis.
I contemplate all these things. Everything that's happened.
We left two days ago, and now we're here on the beach. We're still no closer to finding Gesparo. It's wearing on all of us, especially Ryan. He's been snapping his head off at all of us, and I can only imagine what's going through that stupid head of his. To be completely honest, he's driving me crazy.
"I do, huh?"
Ryan's voice meets my ears, accompanied by a sinking feeling in my stomach. I whirl to face him, folding my arms. "Yes?"
"Do you always think aloud?"
I hope I'm not blushing, but I dare to meet his gaze. "Yes, don't you?"
He shook his head. "Never. I have too many dangerous thoughts to be voicing them aloud."
"I'm sure you do." I roll my eyes. "Now, I feel like I should be mad at you for sneaking up on me."
He sticks his hands in his pockets, an action which irritates me though I know it shouldn't. "Well, it's not like this is a private beach."
"No, but maybe it should be."
I get tired of smalltalk. "Why are you here, Ryan?"
"The same reason we're all here. To save the world." He laughs, a bitter edge to his voice. "Who knows if we'll actually succeed."
"What's this? Ryan, unconfident?" I shake my head. "You're slipping, Ryan. A few minutes ago you were giving a pep talk to bolster their confidence."
"Are you crazy, Avary? We've been out here for two days and there's still no trace of Gesparo. What makes you think he'll just randomly show up?"
"You mustn't be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling." At his strange look, I lean my arms on the pier and laugh. "My mom used to tell me that all the time."
"That's sweet." His expression tells me he isn't convinced.
"You can't just give up, Ryan. It's only been two days."
"Two days too long."
"I know you didn't want to come. Do you think I wanted to leave my dad behind? Heck no. The sooner we realize that we all don't want to be here, the better off we'll be."
"We're four kids and a golden retriever puppy who drooled all over my backpack."
I smile. "That's Luca for you."
"It's inexcusable."
"He's a puppy!" I shake my head as soon as I realize that what we're arguing over is petty. "This is stupid, Ryan."
"I'll agree to that."
"Why do you hate me?"
He scoffs. "I don't hate you."
"Let me rephrase that. Why do you hate the world?"
He stares at me. "I could be asking you the same question."
"I don't hate the world." _I just don't trust them._
"Then neither do I."
"You've got some burr up your saddle. Do you try to be a jerk, or does it come easily to you?"
I lose my temper before I can even think about what I'm saying. Then I wince and close my eyes. _Oops._ Judging by Ryan's mood right now, this is not going to be pretty.
"I'm not a jerk. You obviously aren't a good judge of character."
"On the contrary, I'm a very good one. Maybe that's the problem."
"If anyone's being a jerk right now, it's you."
"Thanks." I smile ruefully. Tears spring to my eyes. "That's really nice."
"We're never going to make it."
"Shut up, Ryan. Don't be a doomsayer."
"I'm just stating the truth."
"You mustn't be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling." The words come out a lot more harsh than I meant them to, but I turn on my heel anyway. "That's all I'm going to say."
I fold my arms against the harsh sea wind that now takes my breath away. It once was pleasant, but now everything seems dark and hurtful, in light of what just transpired. The chill reaches right down to my bones as I walk briskly back to our campsite and plop down next to the fire. The flames crackle and pop, dying to embers. I grab a stick and poke them back into flame. For the next few minutes, it's just me and the flames. I can see Ryan's outline against the midnight blue sky. He's standing there, watching the waves. I shiver and hug my knees closer to my chest.
What if he's right? What if we're just four big kids trying to save the world?
My own words echo through my mind. You mustn't be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling.

The Sound of Waves

The sound of waves meets my ears as sand squishes between my toes. I dump a pile of sticks down in front of Ryan. "There. That should do it."
"Thanks." He barely glances at me as he whips out his lighter.
"Well, that's convenient." I fall to the ground next to him and sit Indian-style. "What's for dinner?"
"Why are you asking me?"
"Because you're our leader. Duh."
"Sawyer has food in his backpack. Ask him."
I send Sawyer a questioning glance.
"In answer to your question, beef jerky," he says crisply. "And we'd better give Luca a big enough portion. A growing puppy needs his nutrients."
"You lied, Sawyer." Bailey huffs, zipping up her hoodie. "I'm still not charmed."
"How could you not be won over by those puppy dog eyes?"
"I don't know, but I'm still not convinced."
"Come on, Bails. He's not that bad."
"Whatever."
I grin at the two siblings, keeping my opinion to myself. I personally find Luca quite adorable, but certain members of our party do not agree -- specifically Ryan and Bailey. I don't know what they have against fluffy golden retriever puppys. I personally think Ryan's just too grumpy to care, and I'm not really sure what Bailey's problem is, but I'm betting it's just PMS. Or a temporary case of insanity. Either way, she and Ryan are both crazy to not adore Luca.
The smell of smoke tints the air, and I pull my jacket closer around me. It's cold out here on the beach. I guess my mental picture of soaking up the sun and the sand and the waves was in error.
I can't help but laugh as Sawyer stuffs the plaid jacket around Luca, primping and preening to make sure his dog is comfortable.
He shoots me a look over his shoulder. "What?"
I smirk. "You know what, you old softie."
He shakes his head. "Despite what you think, I really am quite logical. I'm not just fluff. In fact, I am a man of science."
"Show me."
"What's the square root of a cubed number?"
"Itself," Ryan says after poking the fire with a stick to flare the embers.
I roll my eyes. "Oh, please, this is elementary."
"Don't underestimate Sawyer." Bailey raises her eyebrows. "Sawyer's brilliance far surpasses any mere mortal man."
"Really." I pop a peanut into my mouth, not impressed.
"You dare to question my intelligence?" Sawyer then launches into a stream of scientifical terms that boggle my mind and render me speechless.
"See? Like I said. Brilliant." Bailey grins.
I shake my head. "Fine. I underestimated you, Sawyer, and for that, I am sorry."
"Hmph. Don't let it happen again." But if I'm not mistaken, he has a twinkle in his eye and the hint of a smile.
"We need to pitch the tent." Ryan is all business, and I've learned my lesson about arguing with him. So we spend the next fifteen minutes setting up our campsite.
After this, I feel the need to walk to the edge of the shore and look out at the horizon as the sky turns a crisp cerulean blue. I hug myself in an effort to keep warm and let the waves lap at my toes while I consider the vast wide ocean. It's mindboggling, really.
A tickle across the top of my foot draws my attention to a small hermit crab scuttling across my feet. I scoop it up before it can escape and hold it in my hands, careful to avoid his pincers. I head back to the campsite.
"Look what I found."
"Aww, it's so cute!" Bailey runs to my side and cups her hand around my own, letting the crab run into her grasp.
"Isn't it?"
"Oh, Luca's going to have a hey day," Sawyer quips, rising to his feet. Only Ryan seems uninterested, which really isn't a big surprise. He's been moody ever since we left Emasis, and it's really starting to annoy. I want to just slap a big smile on his face and be done with it. It's not like I'm happy to be away from home, either, but do I look like I'm sulking? Not yet.

This is Avary.

I think I may have found Avary's angle.

I've been struggling to create "new" characters after my NaNo novel. Specifically, I've loved Riah so much but I don't want to copy her. That makes me think that I can't have any strong-willed characters, so I've made all my females wimps, specifically Avary and Bailey.

Well, it took my own actions to make me realize how I could do this. Avary can have a temper, but the problem is that she regrets every single outburst. Every time she loses her temper, she goes into a pity party about how horrible she is. (Okay, I need to make sure this doesn't get annoying, but you get my point.) Riah didn't really regret her actions, whereas Avary regrets them so stinking much.

And yes, she's a lot like me.

It's not that I hate people, it's that I don't trust them. Only a few people are let in once I'm sure they won't trample on the pieces of my heart. 

If I do let you in, consider yourself very lucky. I've just handed you the key to my heart. I think I can trust you. Don't prove me wrong.

Notes, Again

I can't help but laugh as Sawyer stuffs the plaid jacket around Luca.
He shoots me a look over his shoulder as he primps and preens to make sure his dog is comfortable. "What?"
I smirk. "You know what, you old softie."

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Souvenirs: Because the Crew travels all around the world and through time! Brilliance! They should pick up things along the way.

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Write the beach scene, or some of it. It'll help.

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They end up playing, splashing around in the water -- "which proves to me that we're just four big kids trying to save the universe."

Notes of a Tired Dreamer

Avary's catalyst? --

Her desktop lamp wouldn't light unless she screwed the bulb in all the way. It was kind of how Avary felt about her life.

How did she grow up to be a bitter girl? Yet wonderstruck?

LISTEN TO COLOR.

LISTEN TO RILEY.

“Can you stop running?”

“Can you stop running long enough to let me go?”

Waterfall scenes: Maybe first time in the time warp bubble? Maybe they need to put a tracker on Gesparo, and that's part of the setback?
Dr. Flan's wife: Brilliant evil genius?
Dr. Flan: GEORGE CLOONEY? ♥♥♥
Clark: Harrison Ford, Kurt Russell
Ryan and Avary meet a la Boy with the Bread? Nah, too HG-ish.

Potential dog names: Luca, Luqa

Luqa: He's just sort of Sawyer's dog. The end.

This is uncanny.

I feel like I need an entire post dedicated to this.

I've known for a while now that a golden retriever is in the story. I don't know why. He just is. So I was browsing tumblr and this picture caught my eye because of the puppy.

Then I realized.

That is Avary's green backpack. And Sawyer's plaid/flannel shirt.

I'd been browsing Pinterest a while back and found this image, which reminded me of Avary a lot. And here it is again, in this picture.

Not only that, but I also found this picture on Tumblr and decided that the Crew has to camp on the beach. It's like these two pictures were meant to go together. See the guy in the plaid? It's Sawyer.

Like I said: uncanny.

I have been really weirded out by how this novel is falling into place. Seriously.

Not only that, but I was telling Mom about how it looked like this image was taken straight from my head, and Dad overheard.

Me: "And Sawyer wears plaid."

Dad: "Uh-huh!"

Me: "Red plaid."

Dad: "Yes."

He said it like it was a fact he'd known all his life. I was kind of weirded out wondering how he knew that. Then I mentioned Avary having a green backpack, and he said he thought of green when he heard Avary too.

The weird part is, I know this novel. I know these characters. I don't know how, I just do. Their stories are already in my head. They're just waiting to get out.

Don't ask me how I know that Avary has a green backpack or Sawyer wears plaid. I just do. It's in my blood.

I think I'm realizing more and more lately that it's the story I was meant to write.

It's good to dream.

These notes were written while watching the movie Dreamer.


Avary is close to her dad. Therefore, should Bailey be close to her mom to contrast that?

Which brings up the question, is Bailey and Sawyer's mom a spy?
It could add interesting dynamics because Ryan is the one who leaves, while Bailey deals directly with the consequences of that. Ryan was the leaver, and Bailey was the one left behind. It would solidify Bailey and Ryan's relationship and give them stuff to talk about. And definitely sort through.

Ryan - sort of named after baby Ryan. Which is interesting considering this is essentially a book on death and what you leave behind.

In Dreamer, they built up to breeding Sonador so they could race her foal or sell her filly or whatever -- and after all this drama, they discovered Sonador was infertile. That was incredibly depressing, but they found a way out of it. I love it when there's no way out and then you find one. I just need to figure out how to incorporate it into this story.

Does Clark have a truck? Maybe. (I realized tonight I drew a ton of inspiration for Clark and Avary from Dreamer. O.o)

The reason they are at the waterfall/beach scene COULD be that Dr. Flan miscalculated and dropped them at a random spot, so they're lost in the wilderness. Or, are they purposefully camping? Ooh, they could be camping out on the first time, trying to get their bearings of the new world before they go find Gesparo.

There are some things you can't leave behind.

That's becoming this story's tagline. I love how things that have been dormant for a long while are now finally, finally coming together. Like the line above. I always knew it had SOME bearing on the story, but it never fit in. Until now. It's like all the pieces of a mosaic falling into place, and I love it.

I've been collecting all the pieces for a long time. Now they're finally coming together. They're my souvenirs.

Thank you, Papa.

Firecracker Eyes // Ryan

The day I first met Avary was the strangest day of my life.
She was different than anyone I’d ever met. Unexpected. Ethereal, maybe. I can’t even think of the words to describe her. But now, as I sit in the midst of the dark cold woods, feeling the snow pile around me in giant drifts, her image brands itself into my memory once again.
“The name’s Avary.” Her words seem to echo, weaving themselves between the snowflakes, standing out against the howling wind. “What’s yours?”
Her green eyes were snapping like firecrackers as she stared at me, and I felt like running away. Only… I didn’t. I stayed. Rooted. Held captive by her gaze. “Ryan,” I said carefully. Tentatively. I felt like I was walking on glass. Like the floor would fall out from beneath me any moment. I really don’t know why. But I felt like she could either love me or hate me in an instant.
“Oh.” She crossed over, backlit by the stark lights of Dr. Flanigan’s laboratory. She didn’t shake my hand like I’d expected. She folded her arms instead, refusing to make any contact with me other than her eyes. Her fierce, captivating eyes. “What brings you here?”
It was like a splash of cold water. I realized that I had no reason. Not one that she’d understand, anyway. “I don’t know.”
“Oh, come on.” She began to pace around the room. “You have to have a reason. Dr. Flanigan doesn’t just let visitors stroll in unannounced.”
“I’m not unannounced.” I decided to play her game, coming over to the table and fiddling with a small glass beaker. “I’m his nephew.”
This seemed to affect her in some way, because she stopped in her tracks. “His nephew?” She looked for a moment like she almost believed me. Then she shook her head, and my hopes fell. “No, that’s impossible. Dr. Flanigan doesn’t have any family. Not anymore.”
“He has Sawyer and Bailey.”
“How do you know about them?”
“I told you, I'm related.”
“He’s lost all his extended family. And everyone in his life. They defected.”
“Then why are you still here?”
“I’m held here.”
Somehow, I doubted it. “How?”
She avoided my gaze. “I’m a prisoner.”
This somehow changed things. I don’t know why, but it did. The conversation ended quickly. Dr. Flanigan entered and confirmed that I was his nephew. Avary still didn’t trust me.
I wish she was here as the pine needles fall at my feet, blown down by the fury of the wind. I wish she was here now, to help me make sense of myself, if nothing else. I wish she was here so that her firecracker eyes would light up my world.
But she’s not here.
And there’s nothing but silence, coupled with the aching chill that the wind leaves behind.

Catalyst :: Ryan

Ryan's father had dirt-stained hands, and his eyes crinkled and lit up when he smiled. His father was the strongest man he knew. The ferocity with which his axe splintered wood; the way his jaw clenched in the midst of deep thought -- this was the meaning of strength. Ryan beheld his strength with wide-eyed wonder, a small boy idolizing his father. His father was his hero, his idol. The way it should be.

And then the dark days came, the ones that almost stole his light.

It was defiantly sunny that day in spite of the tragedy that would befall them. It disgusted him, the way the weather shone in the face of adversity. He was mourning that day, shouldn't the whole world too?

He raced home after his daily ritual of sipping down a Coke after school. He'd found a paperclip on the road. Simple pleasures. His dad had a knack for taking ordinary things and making them extraordinary, and paperclips were one such ordinary thing. Ryan couldn't wait to see the treasure his father would create next.

But his father was gone.

He'd left during school, his mother said. Her nose was red, her eyes tear-stained. Ryan couldn't understand.

"Why are you crying, Mama? Daddy will come back."


Silence.

"He's coming back, isn't he?"


The silence rang in his ears.

It wouldn't sink in. Couldn't sink in. He was positive that his dad would come home. Soon. Every day he'd run out to the mailbox, taking up his perch once more. His ears would perk up every time he heard the rattle of wagon wheels or the hiss of an incoming train. The train rumbled by on the tracks right behind his house, and Ryan was convinced that one day, his dad would be on it.

The days turned into weeks.

The weeks turned into months.

The months turned into years.

The gaping hole left in Ryan's heart would never heal.

Before the Beginning // Avary

She didn't know her mother, and she desperately wished she did. A few memories would surface, like stagnant dirt being stirred up in the middle of a lake. A yellow dress. A primrose. Tea. A faded photograph. Red curls. Ducks. The last one was completely random and still remained a mystery to her, and yet she knew it had some significance in the mysterious history of her maternal unit.

Her father rarely spoke of it. Young children often perceive deep things, and such was the case with Avary -- she knew it was painful to speak of. Somehow, somewhere, a deep secret was buried deep beneath layers and layers of sand. She knew the old fables and sayings: "X" marks the spot. But no matter how hard she tried to look, X was nowhere to be found. She knew someday she'd find the button that would unravel her father's tragic history. She only hoped it wouldn't unravel his life as well.

Despite the fact that her father was reluctant to speak of his true love, he and Avary had an extremely close relationship. She called him Daddy, and he called her Ava Bean. He worked assorted hours -- long days and long nights, flying among the stars. Avary couldn't wait to fly with him; until then, she was content to greet him when he came home. Her strawberry blonde ringlets would bounce through the air as she ran through the dusty sunlight, feet pounding on weathered wood as they ran: straight into his arms.

The days were long then. Summer days, stretching on and on. Twilight blended into midnight and midnight blended into dawn. Day by day flew by, turning into red check marks on a calendar. In that idyllic place just outside of reality, time decided to stand still. The sunlight filtered through the trees, and that was when Avary discovered the forest.

Her house, with clapboard shutters and a magnificent front porch, had many assets, the most remarkable being the one that it stood in the center of a giant forest. She hid in the woods more often than not. The trees guarded her with a strange solemnity, whimsical and resolute all at the same time. She felt comforted there. Safe. It was the only refuge for a dreamer in a world that was set to destroy everything pure.

Before the Beginning // Ryan

When he was young he'd take the bus into town and sit at a giant counter. The man would throw him a Coke and he'd slip a straw through the neck of the cool glass bottle.

The rain was soft against his skin as he exited the restaurant, feeling the dirt crunch under his feet. A million tear drops, a million memories. His life was so young then. A blank canvas.

He had two younger siblings. They adored him. Revered him. Ryan was the bread to their butter, the sugar to their tea. He had to admit this gave him a bit of pride, but what did he know. All he knew at the ripe age of six was that being a big brother made his chest burst with pride.

His mother was gentle. Strong. Beautiful. He thought she was the loveliest woman in the world.

He didn't see much of his father, who worked hard to provide for their family and had no energy to do anything else. His father would come home from his alternating jobs, field work and mining. On Tuesdays his hands were streaked with dirt and blood. On Thursdays his eyelashes were laden with coal dust. That was just the way it went.

The smells of Ryan's childhood consisted of peppermint and butter and the earth after it rained. Deep brown dirt colored most of his life as he learned and grew. His roots went deep in those years. Maybe too deep. If not for the memories pulling on his heartstrings, he'd have no regrets about leaving home all those years ago.

You've got a gypsy soul to blame.

These Are My Souvenirs

Here’s to the twilight
here’s to the memories
these are my souvenirs
my mental pictures of everything
Here’s to the late nights
here’s to the firelight
these are my souvenirs
my souvenirs

I close my eyes and go back in time
I can see you’re smiling, you’re so alive
we were so young, we had no fear
we were so young, we had no idea
that life was just happening
life was just happening

Here’s to your bright eyes
shining like fireflies
these are my souvenirs
the memory of a lifetime
we were wide-eyed with everything
everything around us
we were enlightened by everything
everything

So I close my eyes and go back in time
I can see you smiling, you’re so alive
I close my eyes and go back in time
you were just a child then, and so was I
we were so young, we had no fear
we were so young, we had no idea
that nothing lasts forever
nothing lasts forever
nothing lasts
nothing lasts
you and me together
were always now or never

Can you hear me?
can you hear me?
I close my eyes and go back in time
I can see you smiling, you’re so alive
I close my eyes and go back in time
you were wide-eyed, you were wide-eyed
we were so young, we had no fear
we were so young, we had just begun
a song we knew, but we never sang
it burned like fire inside our lungs
and life was just happening (and nothing lasts, nothing lasts forever)
and life was just happening (and nothing lasts, nothing lasts forever)
I wouldn’t trade it for anything
my souvenirs.