[size=18]This is a piece I started working on a little while ago:
Uncle Sam was staring at me. And it was starting to send shivers down my spine. Even though I knew he couldn’t see me. “Indi, who’s all in the house?” His voice was soft and relaxed. “Only ma and Demi, uncle Sam.” I said, turning to stare into his sightless green eyes. I’d forgotten how uncomfortable it was to be around Uncle Sam, no matter how kind and funny he was. It was sometimes weird to feel his eyes boring into my back with a concentration so deep it was almost unbreakable. Mama often told me the story of how Uncle Sam lost his sight. I had memorized it after all these years. I turned back to leaning over the railing of our rap-around porch, watching the tree line not but fifteen yards in front of me. It was one of those days where things were so quiet you could almost hear the breeze whispering, noise, noise, noise. The screen door opened and Mama appeared, sky blue dress swishing around her calves. Her long red hair was struggling to burst from the bun she had detained it in. “Indi, sweetie, you mind going to get your little sister from the Hemmin’s?” she asked, gliding over to lean against the railing with me. Pushing myself from the rail I said, “Sure mama, can I stay for a while?” She nodded and sent me into the house to put on a pair of shoes. I never wore them, always following my great-grandmother’s footsteps (sometimes literally). She never wore shoes, even when she was outside, though she never went more than thirty feet of her house. Slipping on a pair of sandals, I glanced at the clock. The little hands behind the glass face read 11:30. Mama was still standing on the porch when I returned, this time holding a plate covered over with foil. “Take this to Mrs. Hemmin for me, and don’t let the flies in it!” She said, setting the plate carefully in my hands. Flashing a smile, I turned and hurried down the steps and down the concrete walkway as fast I could without dropping the plate. The Hemmins were our closest neighbors, and my best friend, Bess, was a Hemmin. My sister, Lily, or I was always around the Hemmin’s. Both of us had a best friend in them. My shadow seemed watery with my hair billowing around my form making my shape fuzzy at the top. The concrete road was almost so thin barely two people could walk abreast. My sandals made flip-flop sounds against the warm cement. Almost there, I thought to myself as the road began, slowly, to slope upwards. I felt the familiar stretch in my thigh muscles as my pace lengthened. My mother insisted I had legs like my father, the legs of a runner and a racer. Every time she mentioned it she would tell me about the day she first met my father. Mama was romantic, and had a story for everything. She loved flowers and nurturing things. Lily and I both supposed this is how she did such a good job of raising us. I had finally arrived at the Hemmin’s and knew so from the way the familiar blue flowers sprung up and also from the noise I could hear. There were nine Hemmin children, four girls and five boys. All the kids at school called them The Hemmins Nine. As I rounded the last bend a blond head popped out from behind the nearest bush and shouted, “Boo!” “You’ll never scare me Willy.” I said when I could place the blond, bouncing blur with a face. The little boy’s blue eyes shone from under his gold bangs. “Aww ma-yan.” He whined in his southern accent. “Hi Indi.” Bess suddenly seemed to appear from the thin air. Little Willy hurried away, scurrying under a clump of bushes. Bess hopped by my side the rest of the way to the house. “Whatcha got?” she asked, pointing to the plate. “Some cake my mother wants yours to taste.” I answered, staring at the brown painted nail pointing at the plate in my hands. “Why are your nails brown?” I asked, even though I had a good idea why. “Lauren said brown is a natural color. She said it would go nice with the rest my plain self.” I sighed. “Lauren was lying to you, Bess. You don’t need any brown nail polish to make you look better. And as for you being plain, it’s true, but in a good way.” Bess’s older identical twin sisters were always telling her strange things. I had no idea why she believed them. Usually she caught them in the lies they told, but lately she had been slipping up. I wasn’t very fond of the twins. We were going around the back of the house where Mrs. Hemmin was busy hanging up a pair of jeans. Kay, Bess’s cousin, but still a Hemmins Nine, stood in a corner with a book under his nose. “Hi Indi, how’s your mother?” Mrs. Hemmin asked when she had caught sight of me. Mrs. Hemmin was a tall woman, with thin, long arms and legs. She moved like a ballet dancer. “She’s fine. She told me to give you this.” I handed the plate to her. After a peek she said, “Your mother is a dear, sneaking me sweets.” She said with a secretive smile. Bess and I headed upstairs to her room. I didn’t even notice that Kay had followed us up until I turned to close the door. Kay was like a ghost, silent, pale and easily frightened. In all the months that he’d been there I’d never once heard him yell like his cousins. It probably had something to do with his lost parents. We had settled on the floor with a sports magazine before Bess spoke. “Lauren told me that things that blend in with an individual usually stand out in a crowd.” I frowned and said, “Bess, your sister is the worst liar in the universe. We’ve been through this all before. You’re fine the way you are and nothing that blends in with your skin tone is going to make you stand out in a crowd.” Bess looked up with a pout. “I’m still plain.” She said stubbornly. “I know you are dear, plainly pretty.” My tone indicated that the conversation was over. Kay’s voice was so low I almost didn’t hear him when he said thoughtfully, “Maybe blue would stand out.” Bess and I looked at him, “Maybe.” Bess said. I huffed; Kay picked fine times to start giving his opinion. Though I wasn’t complaining, I was happy he was talking more. Last year, when he had first come to Kimperton, he hadn’t spoken at all. Bess and I had done the best we could with him for months. Not even Ne-ma, my great-grandmother, could get him to speak. The room was silent for a while, the only sounds being to turning of the pages in the magazine and in Kay’s book. We heard the twins get home a little while later. “Let’s go down stairs. Lianne said she would bring me some ribbons back.” Bess said, lifting herself from the floor. Kay and I followed her faithfully down the stairs to the kitchen. The twins stood in the middle of the floor, posing, as Mrs. Hemmin squealed with delight. “You two look absolutely perfect! Oh, wait until your aunt and uncle see you!” Mrs. Hemmin hurried out of the kitchen looking for hair ribbons, leaving the twins and us alone. “Wow, you guys look great!” Bess breathed from beside me. Kay and I looked at each other and I saw him roll his sky blue eyes heavenward from over the top of his book. I settled back into a kitchen chair as I watched Bess ‘oh’ and ‘ah’ over Lauren and Lianne’s new outfits. I can’t say they didn’t look pretty. Their gold hair shone under bright, grass green hats, each with a ribbon falling elegantly over the brim. The dresses were the same green as the hats, with white polka dots, accented with a small white bow in the front and white gloves. Mrs. Hemmin returned a moment later, carrying two brilliant green ribbons. The twins looked stunning. Kay watched too as Mrs. Hemmin and Bess fussed over the two. I sighed; the crinkle in my forehead I knew made me look old deepened. I knew I would have to deal with the consequences of this later on. I always did. Bess had always had a slight jealousy for her older twin sisters, mainly because they got a lot of attention and because of their beauty. She acted like it didn’t bother her around other people, but Kay and I knew what she was really feeling, neglected and plain. No matter what he or I told her, she still felt uncomfortable. Bess and I had been best friends since the second grade. It kind of hurt that she couldn’t see that I was right. The twins had already left the kitchen to change when the first signs of the Bess Depression started kicking in. “Hey ma?” Bess turned to her mother, who was busy at the sink with carrots, “You think I could get another dress for the reunion?” Mrs. Hemmin paused in her peeling, “Maybe, we’ll see about it.” Then she turned back to the potatoes. I could see the strain already on Bess’s face. Kay put his book down. Shifting almost uncomfortably and playing with the hem of his shirt he said very quietly and very slowly to Bess and I, “Why don’t we go to the strawberry field?” Kay hardly ever suggested going anywhere, besides the backyard. Bess’s face relaxed a fraction, “Yeah, lets go.” The walk to the road was quiet but comfortable. I stared at the shifting gravel as my feet swished around in it. It was not very long before we reached the fork in the pass that led to the clump of strawberry bushes we called ‘The Field’. Kay and I settled for lying on our backs, faces turned to the sun like flowers while Bess folded her long arms and legs over a log. “The reunion is a week away and I still haven’t figured out what I’m going to wear.” She said, sighing a little. “I could lend you something.” I offered helpfully. “No, but maybe you could help me get something at the store?” her tone was hopeful. Bess was intimidated by lots of choices. I was a little too, but not as much as Bess. The atmosphere was slowly thickening, I could tell, especially when Kay grabbed the hem of his shirt and nearly ripped it off. He hated discomfort. “You know, Bess, it doesn’t matter what you wear, as long as you have a great time.” My statement hung in the air fizzling and popping in my ears. “Do you really think so?” The tremble in Bess’s voice was unmistakable. Sitting up quickly I caught her in time just after her bottom lip began to quiver and before she burst into tragic tears. “Bess don’t start crying, please.” The nearly whispered plea almost went unheard. Both of us turned toward Kay, and Bess’s bottom lip steadied, though her eyes were still pooling with unshed tears. We made a pitiful sight, the three of sitting there looking sad and sorry for ourselves. Ne-ma would probably be clapping her birch stick rapidly on whatever happened to be handy (people too), and saying how we all were too young to be sorry and tired. That we should never look sad or unhappy until we were adults. I could almost hear her wise, good-hearted voice bubbling from thin lips. It would have made me laugh had I not been currently wrapping an arm around Bess, trying to get her to stop crying. Kay and I still hadn’t determined if Bess’s extreme emotions were because she kept them all pent up or because she was dramatic. I was more leaning toward dramatic because it was so often that we went through the scenario. Bess’s wails of distress had gotten slightly louder now. “B, it isn’t good for your skin if you cry like this. It’ll make it all splotchy and red.”
Subject: Indiana Reverie 
Thu Jul 17, 2008 7:22 am