Memories

The extent of her parents’ hatred stunned her, but her fear held her back and she found herself unable to say anything. She shivered as flashes of the blonde girl being taken away in Kindergarten flickered through her mind, even as the girl’s face had slipped from her memory. Even as her reverie ended, her parents were still struggling to say something. It was as if they were locked in an argument that was all important, but neither one of them wanted to anger the other, neither one of them wanted to hear any disagreement from the other, and neither one of them really knew what the other’s position was. Mr. Valedette’s face reddened as if he wanted to explode in reprimands of his wife, but no sound emerged as if he could not come to think of her as anyone to argue with, as if she was all at once precious yet appalling and admirable yet shameful. Sometimes, he talked to his friends on the phone suggesting such things. Mrs. Valedette looked as if she sought her husband’s support, yet her own misgivings told her that he should not give it to her and like she wanted to launch into a huge debate justifying her actions if only she could reconcile them with her soul. At last, Katelyn’s muscles seemed able to obey her once more and she turned away from Victoria’s body and quietly slipped away to her room and lay on her soft bed.

As the days had passed, she had grown increasingly isolated from her classmates. She had almost told her parents once about the girl that had been arrested for helping, for she had always loved her parents, but then she had seen the article in her father’s newspaper, and she had been silent. The article was written in plain writing, which, then being in Grade One, she could read:

Witches Rising Against Us Again: Who will be Next?

Calton—Just two days after the Social Unity Party claimed its place as a fringe party, its cofounder Sylvan Ecclestie was caught practicing traditional witch magic in public. Traditional magic is the kind that uses eyeballs and frogs’ legs in its spells. Police refuse to provide details of the incident at the present time, except that it was the light shining through her skin that drew their attention. She is presently in custody, awaiting judgement at court tomorrow.

When asked to explain the incident, cofounder and leader of the Social Unity Party Miss Leste explained that Ecclestie is responsible for her own actions and Leste was unaware of Ecclestie’s plans, claiming, “Sylvan did not plan the incident. She wouldn’t. She knows the punishment and I don’t believe she meant any harm.” Whatever the cause, using traditional magic in public is illegal. Experts suspect Ecclestie will face reverse magic in addition to imprisonment.

Katelyn had looked away from the newspaper. She was sure she should not sympathize with the witch, but something inside her told her Ecclestie’s actions did not justify her punishment, though she had not known the extent of the magic or consequences. Something about the paper saying “Leste was unaware of Ecclestie’s plans” and Leste saying that Ecclestie did not plan the incident did not seem to align. Katelyn had closed her eyes momentarily before walking to her room, determined to keep her feelings to herself. Nothing good would come of them, yet she began to see the blonde girl as brave and to start wondering why she should not have helped and wishing she were as strong as the girl. Of course, she did not think she had seen the blonde girl at all following her disappearance, even now, so she feared what would have happened if she had done anything.

She had fallen into more complete isolation, afraid of her friends and her parents. That week, her mother started a new job, having previously worked night shifts, and was no longer able to watch Katelyn when she was not at school, so Katelyn was immediately given a babysitter to watch her. The babysitter had been a staunch conservative, trying to indoctrinate Katelyn into the “witch protests upset the natural balance” argument. Every time she had made the argument, not because of something Katelyn said, but because it had always been on her mind and would come forth at the slightest provoking, and every time she had begun, Katelyn felt a hole tearing through her chest, driving her away from everything she had known.

“Father, please, don’t force me to have a babysitter,” Katelyn had cried one evening, twisting her brown hair around her finger nervously with the image of the blonde girl etched in her mind, though by now the image had blurred as she began to forget the girl’s features.

“Katelyn,” her father had looked up from his newspaper with a serious expression on his face and had looked down his nose at her, “your mother and I have to work; we cannot watch you. Therefore, you need a babysitter.” Now, Katelyn wondered, If you are going to get rid of the babysitter why even bother, but she was older now. At the time, she had been five, but now she was fourteen, old enough, in her parents’ eyes, to look after herself. If they were to be arrested for Victoria’s murder, however, it would be more than likely that she would need an entirely new guardian, replacing them rather than Victoria.

Katelyn had bowed her head and walked away saying nothing more of the subject, ashamed that she had asked. She had returned to her room and lay on her bed, beginning to cry.

Katelyn twisted on her bed, trying to blot out the images of Victoria’s still body lying on the floor and trying desperately to sleep. Whatever she did, the memories kept coming. She remembered crying. She remembered the way her heart beat erratically, or perhaps she was feeling it again now, renewed. Why should I cry over all the babysitters I never liked and yet I cannot even think to call the police for the death of the only one I ever liked? Katelyn questioned herself, but it did not matter.

She remembered waking up the next day and slipping off her ruby duvet, and then morosely walking towards the white doors of her closet. She had pulled out a short black dress that pleasantly made her feel like she was going to attend a funeral, fitting with her state of mind. She loved the way the top layer of the skirt, lace, flitted above the satin underskirt and hugged her to just above her knees, flaring out minimally. It had a simple unembellished halter top with long sleeves, so she would not stand out, but would still look nice. She had pulled it on with a pair of white tights, so that she would not look like she was going to a funeral, but at the same time would not upset her mood. She had gone to the bathroom and lightly combed her mid-length hair before running down the stairs to see her parents and eat breakfast, which she had hoped would at least lighten her state of mind slightly, but instead of her parents she had found a stranger.

“Good morning, Miss Katelyn,” the young woman had greeted, her blonde hair thrown into a messy bun matching her wrinkled blouse and rumpled skirt, “I am your new babysitter.” Katelyn, unimpressed by the woman’s disorganized dress and failed address, had already begun to dislike her. Now, when she looks back, though, she cannot say if she had not judged beforehand to hate all babysitters. Even Victoria, she had hated at first. Would it have ended differently if I had looked as if I liked Victoria? Katelyn wondered, but this question brought her back to her guilt over not doing anything when the blonde girl had been taken away in Kindergarten. Would I not have just endangered myself? At the same time, she could not help thinking that her parents must have known Victoria was a witch. She had been leader of the Social Unity Party, which was nicknamed the ‘Witch’ Party because it was suspected every member was a witch, not that that could be confirmed. Every member was female, however.

After Katelyn had surveyed the babysitter for a while, the new babysitter felt compelled to say something else, blushing slightly. “My name is Laura,” the woman had added, finally remembering to introduce myself.

“I have to go to school,” Katelyn had declared in an uninterested, irritated tone.

“Certainly,” Laura had replied and before Katelyn could have taken another step towards the kitchen to have breakfast, Laura had whisked her out the door and into her navy Jeep.

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Katelyn had stared out the window watching the row of dull brown houses pass by while tipping her head towards the glass, almost in defeat, and almost missing the heart-cleaving lectures on witchcraft, not that she had ever seen her former babysitter in the mornings before school. Finally, they had arrived at the school where Katelyn had first begun to feel disillusioned with the opinions of her town, and Katelyn had hurriedly jumped out of the Jeep.

As she had spotted the other first graders running through the tall grasses in the front courtyard, a pang had risen to her heart. “I can go the rest of the way,” she had muttered curtly and had walked off, being careful not to tread her black ballet flats in the mud.

She had walked into the school, shivering slightly, perhaps from the cold, or perhaps from apprehension because of her already foreboding day, made worse by her ever-increasing hunger. She had been sure that she hated this babysitter, and she was convinced that she could tell her father and he would understand, yet some foreign voice in her head had kept telling her he would not, and everything would be exactly the same, if not worse.

Looking back, she realized Victoria had been better, but if she had never met Victoria, her parents would not be murderers and she would not have to worry about what would happen to her if they were arrested. She had dragged herself into her classroom and had slouched in her desk, trying to hide her internal pain, though she knew it was too obvious. Still, no one had said anything, and no one had seemed to notice she was there, which was almost worse than if they had. At least to say something they might have made her feel less alone. In her mind, everything had been worse and would only get worse. At least in those days she had been able to sleep. It was not that late yet, though. She had just come home with Victoria and Victoria had been about to leave before she had been offered tea. They had come home slightly later than normal because of the traffic, so it had been almost four o’clock when they arrived. Then, there was the murder, which was quick. Too quick. Then, they had stared at her body in silence. Now, it was only six o’clock. She had not eaten dinner, but she was not hungry either.

She tried to sleep for a few minutes, but she woke up almost immediately. She glanced over her homework. Science, more specifically physics, stared back at her. It asked her potential energy and gave her mass and distance. She multiplied 3.42 g times 6.8 m: 23.256. She checked the back of the book: 228.1 J. She tried again to no avail. Raising her hands to her face, she moaned slightly and pushed the homework away from herself. There was no way she would be able to focus on it. She was destined to fail. Deciding that she must be failing because she was distracted, she lay back on her bed and tried to sleep again, but an uncomfortable feeling arose in her chest. She could not just leave her homework there. When she tried again, she got the same answer as she initially got. Even if she adjusted her significant digits, her answer was still off by a factor of near ten. She flipped through her book looking for a formula, but decided she had to know and stopped looking. She looked at the next question. If a block weighing 5.9 g is pushed diagonally across a room that is 4 m wide, what is the work required? Sighing, Katelyn shook her head. No idea, she thought. 5.9 g times 4 m. She already knew that was not going to work. It occurred to her that she did not even know what process she was supposed to be using.

At least in the early years of her education, everything had been easy, or perhaps that was just her judgement looking back on it. Surely, it had seemed hard at the time and at some point she would look back on her Grade ten science and wonder why she ever found it challenging. Still, in the early years, she was sure her experience had been shaped more by the teachers than anything else. Every year, the teacher seemed dramatically different.

Once she had sat down in the Grade one class, she felt cold and empty. Perhaps, it had been because she had not eaten. The day she had met Laura had been different, though, because Laura was not the only person she had met that day.

“Good morning, class,” Miss Caroline had pronounced, her formal tone ever radiating across the rows of carefree students. Could teachers age a hundred years from one grade to the next? Her honey blonde hair had been neatly combed, almost too perfectly into a low ballet bun while her starched white blouse had been neatly ironed and tucked into her black pencil skirt. Her dull blue blazer and matching blue pumps had given her colour against her indifferent visage, but it was a cold colour and a weak one. If Miss Caroline formed a great contrast to their Kindergarten teacher, she formed in even greater one against Laura. “We have a new student joining us.” Her words had been so punctual, each one clearly articulated, but Katelyn had not understood why they would have a new student so late in the year. The term was already half over. “Now, on with the lesson,” she had declared, brightening almost imperceptibly as she launched into whatever they were learning today, which Katelyn did not really have the heart to listen to right now. She had searched the class for the new student, but to her surprise she had found many of her classmates looked unfamiliar and she had soon given up, returning to staring at her desk blankly. She had taken out her notepad and started scribbling down whatever the teacher was saying, even though she did not comprehend it, so that she could at least read it again later. She had spent the whole morning wavering in this state of half-consciousness, barely able to think, as her stomach had repetitively reminded her that she had missed breakfast until finally it was time for their lunch break.

She had walked to her backpack, only to find she had not packed a lunch. Wavering between panic and fear, she had approached an empty table and sat down, laying her head on the cold wooden surface.

“Hey,” someone had greeted coming towards her, and she had looked up to see a pale black-haired boy with bright green eyes, a v-neck white shirt with a lace fringe at the bottom, a black jacket, and black pants.

“Do I know you?” she had questioned, and when he laughed she had realized that she had phrased the question so that it sounded like she was trying to scare him away. No, I have to be less sharp, more accommodating, and yet distant and less friendly, she had chastised herself.

“No,” he had responded, not seeming to care, “I am new.” She had felt that something about him seemed familiar, however. She had been surprised by his lack of reaction to her tone. Perhaps, she had needed to be more direct, ruder in order to actually scare him away, but she had been unsure if that was what she wanted. “Have some lunch,” he had advised her, opening his and offering it to her.

“I... I am not... I didn’t...” she had stuttered. The friendliness had made her uncomfortable. She had not wanted to appear like a poor girl, for her parents had not been by any means struggling financially and she had wanted to create a sense, no—an air, of pride.

“Forget your lunch?” he had supplied.

“And skip breakfast?” a blonde girl in a pale blue t-shirt and jeans had suggested, sitting on her other side. Her eyes were a clear, pale blue. She, too, had looked familiar. The girl had pulled out her lunch. Katelyn had been frightened by their perceptions and how much they seemed to know about her and she still was. She needed to pull her defences closer to her and to keep them out. She was afraid of anyone coming close and knowing anything about her. Perhaps, that was why she did not have friends.

“How do you know that?” Katelyn had demanded, causing them both to look at her in alarm. Great, she had thought, it was just a lucky guess. “Don’t you have friends to bother?” she had sighed defensively.

“No,” the blonde girl had folded her hands on the table, “I don’t have any friends. I guess I just have that effect.” The green-eyed boy had glanced up at her sharply, almost seeming to notice something, and his eyes had brightened slightly. “I am Hanna.”

“I am Ki,” the boy had introduced.

“Katelyn,” Katelyn had whispered, resigned, as she had nibbled on Ki’s muffin.

Katelyn wondered if they would understand her sorrow following Victoria’s death, but she could not admit to anyone that she had liked Victoria. She certainly could not reveal anything that might lead them to suspect that she had a part in it. They could not know why her failure was so painful, so close to her heart. No, she resolved, I can tell no one. Not the police, not Ki and Hanna. No one.

She rose from her bed as her heart continued beating painfully quickly. She threw her Science ten across the room and when the guilt started to flow in, she gently set it back down on the desk underneath the window. Outside, the sun had started to sink. The daylight was almost gone as the red, orange, and yellow colours filtered into the sky. It could have been pretty, almost beautiful, but it struck her as meaningless. It happened every day. It did not stop when Victoria died, and it would not stop for the next million years. It was an unfortunate reminder that in the end Victoria’s death meant little and that no one cared. Katelyn wished that she did not care, but as soon as the thought entered her head, she felt the regret. All she was doing was showing the same hatred as everyone else, the same hatred that had gotten Victoria killed.

She rose from her bed and slipped outside into the cold night air, but as soon as she was at the end of the block, she turned around. If she got lost, she might never find her way back.