Smoky Smell

When I'm in the city, I have my hot spots. The places I need to visit to feel like I have had a complete visit to the city.
One of the places is the Value Village. It's located in rather shady area. Violent graffiti covers the walls. Redundant posters cling every available surface, advertising a club here or a band there. The VV is right between an alleyway and a bicycle shop. I've never been in either.
When you come in, you're right away assaulted by this weirdly medicinal smoke smell. It's not pleasant, but for some reason I don't mind it. It's familiar I suppose, so I like it. The ground level is where the clothes are. The basement is for furniture and linens, and the top floor is devoted to books and housewares. I spend most of my time on the ground floor. Go figure.
There's a lot less hunting there, than in most of the thrift stores I visit. It seems like every third thing I pick up has some pattern that I like, or a shape I've been looking for or a color I desperately need. I always hate the dressing rooms. I don't know if it's a more accurate mirror or the lighting is bad, but I always, always look awful. It's depressing. But I spend like two hours in there, dealing with weirdly placed armholes, and unlocking locks, modeling clothes periodically for my mother. She sometimes drapes clothing she thinks I'll like over the door.
Most of those items end up among our final purchases. I'm a sucker for my Mum's taste, which is almost identical to mine, if a little more refined.
Once I left a note in an encyclopedia there. You had to hold it up to the light in order to understand what it said. I left it on page 56; Pipe. When I went back, a few weeks later, the book was gone, and my note was too. I always wondered who had gotten it. I had various scenarios in my head.
I've grown up being dressed in secondhand clothing all my life. I'm a fish out of water going into name brand stores. I miss the thrill of finding something truly lovely among racks of castoff ugliness. I don't like the uniformity. I don't like the way I look in those kinds of clothes. They're uncomfortable. And I'm not going to deny it, I look at the price tag, and shake my head. Once you start buying your shirts for two dollars, there's no going back to twenty dollar tank tops. Though I never liked those, so what do I know?

Morning

I'm going to miss a lot of things about summer.
I'm going to miss getting up late, and obscenely early, based on only how I'm feeling. I'll miss going for dim sum in the city every Sunday with my family. I'm going to miss my seasonal job at the market, and my sweet, loyal customers. I'll miss wrestling with my younger siblings. Hour long car rides and days where I sat out in the sun and only thought. Playing World of Warcraft with reckless abandon. Taking ridiculous, gritty photos to impress my Father. Sweltering hot walks through town. The world's best ice cream.
I going to miss it all.
I hope that I can be more proactive this year, so that my parents don't have to work as hard to make sure I am where I need to be and doing what I need to be doing. I hope that I will become even more dedicated to my music and that it won't be too terrifying in my new, difficult orchestra. I hope that my parents will feel the work that they've put into this new house and be able appreciate it, during the crazy, fully-scheduled school year. I hope I will find purpose in my schoolwork. I hope I will not miss my mother too much, with me at school and her at her job. I hope that I won't spill anything on white shirts. I hope that I will have my iPod always charged.
Thoughts like these always come up at the beginning of September, when letters start coming in the mail, announcing prep day, reminding me. They press. They bring a sourness and longing into these last days of August. I am, to say the least, unwilling to begin again. Usually.
This year is different. I'm going to a place where I want to be. Where I am relieved to be and excited to be. This autumn holds little of the regret and drudgery that I have come expect.

I am so ready.

Memoir

The book was a pale pink, ballet teacher pink. Somebody, she didn't know who, had drawn a lady in a green skirt, a tree and a horizon line on the front cover. She flipped through the already well-worn pages and savored each one. A picture of her and Erin, the girl who took karate, and wore her hair in a short, sandy bob. A picture of her and Aurora, who hugged her too hard with a grin too phony to really be believed. Herself and Ms. Fairly, standing by the pine tree. Herself and Bradley, looking slightly more demure, aware of the impending separation. .
She always got car sick, and the drive to the "States" was no exception. It wasn't particularly different here. More trees. More rain, but still the same grey colour in the sky and the same tired chill in the early morning. She wondered why such a fuss was made about coming here.

***

Nellie had always liked having new school supplies. They smelled nice and they accentuated the excitement of everything being different. No one had really talked to her, but they had barely had time to. The teacher had introduced her to the class before the bell had rung and she had enjoyed that, and the shy front she put up; she enjoyed that too.

But then suddenly everyone was standing up, and the teacher (Who wasn't her usual teacher apparently, just a substitute) was coming to the front of the class. Then they were all speaking in unison. Looking in the same direction. Nellie stayed in her seat, until the rest of the class sat down again, and then raised her hand.

"What was that?"

The teacher was a pointy, fashionable sort of woman, prone to wearing turtlenecks. Her name sounded like the word nails. So Nellie fixed it in her mind that her teacher's name was Ms. Nails.

"That, was the pledge of allegiance. We address the flag every morning and on Mondays we sing the Star Spangled Banner". Ms. Nails smacked her lips and wrote the words to the pledge of allegiance up on the board.

"We'll see how you do tomorrow. Okay?"

***

Nellie's cardigan was terribly hot. She took it off. It was only April, but the sun had come out blindingly and suddenly, and the girl was uncomfortable, in this unfamiliar playground, with all it's metal. She was waiting in line to get on a bar. She didn't really understand the point of them. Girls just basically spun around on them, their long ponytails hitting the wood chips with a strange swishing sound. They looked like giant croquet goals. Maybe they were things you had to experience to understand. She wished someone wanted to be a faerie with her instead.

The bar, when she finally commandeered one, was exactly what it looked like. It made her knee uncomfortable. And she panicked a little when she was she was entirely upside down. But she had waited long enough, and she was going to take what she could from it. She had fifteen loops to get through.

A short girl was watching her from her place in the line and after a few minutes of observation walked straight up to Nellie, who was on loop number 7. She had pretty, feminine brown hair, and she was wearing a sparkly pink and brown t-shirt. Her name was Laura. Nellie envied the length of Laura's hair, longed for her own shorn curls.

"Can I use this bar?" said Laura. Nellie hesitated and then nodded. She still had 8 loops left. But maybe Laura could be a friend. They switched places and Laura did a few experimental spins. Then she looked up at Nellie, and cocked her head.
"Do you know why I asked you?" she said.

"No."

Laura blinked. "Because I knew you'd get off easiest." And then she spun in three loops, without stopping once.

***

There was so much space at the new house. Tunnels to be made in the blackberry thicket. Nests to find. Trees to climbs. Thorns to be snagged in. The yard was their kingdom.

The baby was lovely, and she didn't cry much at all. Northie loved the baby. He loved the baby a lot. But he still went on adventures with Nellie. Her faithful companion. She missed him. Always.

They had found a clearing in the thicket, hidden away from the world by leaves and stalks and blackberries. Nellie had named it Paradise. She told Northie that he could be the founder, and she would be the Prime Minister. They settled into their roles comfortably. Stuffed moss into Ziploc and bags and called them pillows. Lugged their plastic dinner sets through the undergrowth. Made tables out of play wood and sticks. No one was allowed to know the way into the clearing except Northie and herself. They had to blindfold any outsiders who wanted to visit.

***

No one really knew the Spice Girls here. They all liked someone called Britney Spears. She missed playing Spice Girls. She had hoped that she might be able to pull some strings at the new school and be allowed to play Baby Spice. But nobody knew them. So she stopped playing spice girls.

***

Her Mother always told her to put things through the filter. Do to others what you would want done to you. She said that sometimes, people had less practiced filters. People like Laura. People like Jaimie. People like Ms. Anderson. People like Ms. Nails. People like Robbie.

***

Everyday, Nellie's Mother packed her a cheese sandwich on homemade bread. Cheddar. In preschool Nellie had peanut butter and honey. And in Kindergarten. But ever since starting first grade she'd had cheese. Which she liked.
Lunches were divided in two segments at the new school. The younger grades ate first. And then, the older kids flooded into the cafeteria. They were larger and very much aware of the division between the older and younger students.
Nellie was a slow eater. Sometimes, she got stuck in the transition from younger lunch to older lunch. Not pleasant. She started saving half of her sandwich for home.

***

Katie looked like a little miniature Snow-white. Puffy locks of coarse black hair. Pale, pale skin. She was tiny and she always wore a large eggplant colored duffel coat. She was brave and smart and irreverent.

But the most important thing about Kaitie was that she liked to play faeries.

***

Kaitie and Nellie spent most of their recesses fighting off the Bad Spirits with sticks they found underneath the big pine tree. The baseball diamond was full of evil winged vampires, who needed vanquishing. The lower playground was a faerie metropolis. Both Kaitie and Nellie had rabbit familiars who went everywhere with them. Kaitie was glad that someone else believed in the Bad Spirits. Nellie was glad someone else liked to do something other than swing on the bars.

***

Nellie looked up at the feathery clouds and wondered for a moment.

"If we were able to fly, wouldn't it look weird if we just shot up into the sky without any wings or anything?"

Kaitie cocked her head thoughtfully. "Peter Pan did it."

"True. But he's different. I'm thinking about Mary Poppins, with her umbrella. If we could fly, would we need something to help us steer?"

"I don't know" Kaitie said, distracted. "Let's go make a potion."

It had rained the night before and the lower field was dotted with varying sized puddles. It was an unspoken rule that you didn't go playing in the mud. So it was with a little bit of apprehension that Kaitie and Nellie knelt at the edge of the nearest puddle. Kaitie broke off the end of a long stick and swirled it through the water. It clouded as the dirt rose.

"Nellie. We more dirt and some grass." she continued to stir the puddle. Nellie turned on her knees and scraped at the moist earth with her dull fingers. She scrubbed up a handful of dirt and dropped it into the puddle. It was thickening satisfactorily. Nellie pulled up some grass and threw that in as well.

"This will keep away any bad spirits." Kaitie said, almost broodingly. Nellie nodded. They waited for awhile silently, Kaitie stirring vigorously and Nellie watching her. A shadow fell over the puddle. A sixth grader, with a brown paper bag filled with popcorn under his arm. It was popcorn Friday.

"Whatcha doing?"

Kaitie looked up at him. "We're making a potion to keep away the bad spirits."

"Bad spirits?"

"Yes. They get inside your head and control you. They're evil." Nellie nodded and Kaitie continued to stir.

"You guys are weird.." Nellie thought about the filter. The sixth grader spat the popcorn mush from his mouth and it landed in their potion. Nellie watched the pale yellow goo be swallowed up by the mud, and wanted to vomit. Kaitie watched it too. The sixth grader watched them watch the pieces of popcorn, smirking. Kaitie looked up at him for a moment and then started stirring again and said lightly.

"Perfect. That will definitely keep the bad spirits away. Thank you." After a moment of stunned silence, the boy walked away. Kaitie kept stirring and Nellie watched her.

And then they both smiled, in absolute unison, indifferent and different and happy.

Up and away..

Last week I went to orchestra camp. Because I am a cellist and that is what cellists do sometimes.
The camp was held in the eastern part of my state, which was different from last years camp. Super hot there, and really dry. I realized quite quickly that I needed to wake up and understand that elbow length sleeves and knee high legging were not, in fact, summer worthy clothing. I stupidly didn't bring a fan either, because I didn't anticipate the un-air-conditioned dorms.
Remind me not to do that next year, okay?
My roommate will remain nameless, so I can respect her privacy. But I want you to know that she is an absolute jewel of a person. Consistently and honestly kind and brave and concerned. She was the best person a girl like me could be roomed with. She laughed when I laughed, without a hint of condescension. She was tidy, and didn't mind when my alarm clock went off at absurdly early hours. She was as dedicated to music as I was, and understood when I would decide to skip breakfast and go practice.
Understood it so well in fact, that she loyally followed me up to the music building and practiced with me.
I cannot tell you how much I appreciated having her with me. She is a remarkable person.
We played English and Scandinavian music to kick off the Youth Symphony season. Did I mention that the camp was run by the symphony? Well, it was, and I was so glad to be in an orchestral setting again. I miss it so much after the season ends in May. The camp helps tide me over until September, when we start up again. The music was the reason I went to camp, and it didn't disappoint. Our final concert was fantastic, and we managed to get the work of four months done in one exhausting week.
I was reunited with my friends from last year's camp and it was like the year that we spent apart didn't exist, we picked up right where we left off, and it was lovely to see them. Most of them were in the other, more advanced orchestra, but we ate with each other and spent our free time (Which there was little off) together always. They were all so good to me. And Logan, stubborn and excited Logan, came with me, offering up a familiarity that I relied on adamantly. They all protected me when my bitch of a stand partner frightened me to a point of hysteria. They stood by me, even when it inconvenienced them, and for that, I will always be grateful. And more than that, we had fun together and understood each other, a little group of orchestra junkies.
I missed my family terribly, as I always do. I'm quite sure I came off as a total agoraphobic to most of the people I met, whether they liked me or not. I was glued to my phone when I was allowed, calling my mother just so that I could hear her voice, and know what they were all doing back at home. Hours away from them, I reveled in their ordinary activities and yearned to be back with them all week long.
I learned a lot though, so it was entirely worth it. My fingers are practically bleeding from playing so much and I'm finding myself looking up Holst and Elgar on wikipedia, after hearing about their lives during the daily lectures at camp. Music history really interests me. The ways that musicians have helped shape cultures are surprisingly important. They rally countries and rebel against tyrants and bring joy to those who have none. It made me proud to be among their ranks.