we dream of somewhere else : {gaby}

[goat]

camilla schrader-fairbanks

The only reason I enjoy summer is because it gives me an excuse to wear dresses. I mean, I wear dresses whether or not it's ninety degrees outside, but now if my parents try to get on my case about it, I can bring out the old "it's too hot for pants" excuse. My dress today is light blue, and it used to reach below my knees before I tore it shorter. I'm supposed to be watching my mother as she teaches me to carve, but it's awfully boring, so I decided to toy with the frayed edges of my clothes instead. She hasn't noticed yet. She's still blabbering on about "proper techniques" or whatever. I wish I could be outside, dancing around the trees.

She clears her throat. I glance up, staring right into her unamused face. "Pay attention, Camilla," she says, in that stern voice of hers.

I roll my eyes. How rebellious of me! "This is so boring, mother! I'd much rather be doing anything else."

"You have to learn to do this!" She waves her carving tool into the air. "None of your siblings are going to take over when we can't run the shop anymore! It's all up to you!"

That's my mother, always at the edge of her short temper. She's just passionate. I huff, and cross my arms. "Can we do this some other time?" I ask.

It's my mother's turn to huff. She leans back into her chair. "Fine. At least go help your father with something."

I'm out of my chair before she's even finished her sentence. The tiny carving room we were in leads right behind the counter of our storefront. My father is deep in conversation with a customer, but he excuses himself when I walk in. "Camilla!" He smiles, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. When he looks me over, though, his smile fades. "Did you cut that dress?"

"Technically, no," I reply, shrugging his arm off.

"Adults don't destroy their clothing," he says. Ugh! All these reminders of my impending adulthood! I'm telling you, once my final Reaping passes, I'll be out of here! And they'll have to run this store by themselves, until the day they die!

That was rude. Let's pretend I didn't think that. "Mother wants me to help you," I tell him, completely changing the subject.

He nods. "Well, good. I need a couple deliveries done."

Thank god! Thank the heavens! I can finally go outside! My father grabs a small wrapped package from underneath the counter. I bet it contains one of our famous wooden ducks. The name of the person it's for is scribbled on the paper. I peer closer at what can only be my mother's messy handwriting. Oh, dear.

"You know her?" My father asks. "She lives right outside the town square."

"Yes." I don't tell him that the woman is a nasty old hag who glares at every teenager who passes her home. In a fairytale, she'd definitely be the evil witch.

"Well, get going!" He claps me on the back before going back to help the customer.

I step out into the warm light of the afternoon. The heat doesn't feel too bad right now, underneath all these trees, but I'm sure it'll get worse. Good thing I tore my dress shorter! I set a course for the town square. My father has a few more packages for me to deliver after this one, so I make sure my pace is quick enough. I walk past scattered houses, workers on their lunch breaks, children chasing each other with flowers in their hair. How I envy them! Maybe after I deliver these things, I'll take a few hours for myself and lay in the nearby meadow.

As I'm passing by the backside of a building, something catches my eye. There's a pile of trash behind the building, which is unusual, but there's also a person sitting on top of it, which is even more unusual. I stop my brisk walking and backtrack to get a better look. Yes, there's definitely a girl on top of that garbage pile. Why?

"Excuse me? Miss?" I take a cautious step forward. "Are you planning on taking yourself out with the garbage? Because I can assure you, you're definitely not trash."

[Sleepy Fluttershy]

Leticia Wheeler

Summer. I am rather surprised to admit this, but when I get up this morning, my heart is almost singing. It has been a while since I've proudly brought my books and an E- grade from school. And it will be quite a while until I get to do this again. Summer, summer, summer! This thought chases me in my mind every day and even makes me happy... Kind of... Personally, I would call it "pleased with the circumstances", rather than "happy".

But it doesn't last long. When I put a book in my bag, dress up and go to the first floor, my head still deep in the summer euphoria, I slip on the wet floor right in the middle of the kitchen and something hard hits my nose. The table. My leg accidentally kicks the sink full of dirty dishes, and somehow one bowl flies up in the air, landing on my head. "OUCH!" A loud bang follows, when I try to get up and drop a tin bucket. Water starts running out of it in every direction imaginable. I stand up and glare fiercely at my sister who couldn't choose a better moment to clean the kitchen. "THAT HURT! A LOT!" She murmurs "Sorry" with her face white like snow and big blue eyes wide open. But this is not going to do my nose any good. A red stream is rushing down my face and clothes. I throw another dramatic glance at the Wheeler family standing all around me with a variety of worried expressions and go upstairs again to patch my nose up. There is silence behind me. I am sure that mom still stares sadly at me (she doesn't like the way I treat my sister), my brother, Lucas, feels sorry for us all and Aileen starts coming out of the shock and sobs loudly. I can hear that sob when I get to the first-aid cardboard box on a wobbling shelf and stop the bleeding. Now I have a bruised nose, a dizzy head and blood stains on my T-Shirt. When I come down again, I hear mom's voice from the kitchen, but I don't care. She wants me to apologize for rudeness, perhaps. But I think it's not that necessary. Aileen washed the floor and was the reason I fell down, wasn't she? I yelled at her and was the reason she was crying. It's only fair. No apologies are in order. Besides, I don't think her crying was nearly as painful as my nosebleed. And my head still hurts.

I grab my bag and decide to wander around the district for a while and then find a safe, quiet place for a bit of reading. But as soon as I pass three or four streets, another complication appears out of nowhere. My stomach starts to growl with demand, almost making me unable to walk. I know the symptoms. I know the illness. And I know the cure. I take a left turn and soon reach a two-storey building. In its shadow my paradise lies. People on this street use this dark corner to stock all the rubbish possible, including food and broken furniture. The first part is what, in fact, interests me much more. No one usually comes here during the day, especially in summer. The grown-ups are doing their work, the children are enjoying their freedom, or helping the adults. I am not likely to be noticed here and can do whatever I can. I dip my right arm into the trash and it finds something. I pull it out. An empty can. Again. The rotten apple. Not my thing. Finally, my left pocket is full of delicious treasures: a burned piece of cake, fish remains and the dry cheese. Let the feast begin! I pull myself up to the top of the trash pile and sit there, making myself comfortable (legs crossed, book in one hand, food in another, leaning against the wall). The shadow falling from the building is cool and the air is not as hot as everywhere else in here. I try to open the book and tuck into my findings, but...

There are always these tiny "buts" in my life. Suddenly a girl appears from behind the building. She doesn't seem to head for the trash pile, so maybe she's just passing by (though getting lost is more likely, not many people choose this road). I don't want to go away. I'm not a thief or homeless, I'm just enjoying myself in the garbage. She won't even look at me. But she does, and seems quite surprised to see me on my throne in this Alladin's cave. A typical home girl in a blue dress. Probably an A+++ student and a weeping embodiment of kindness, like Aileen. She won't speak to me, she will just give me one of those compassionate looks from her arsenal and turn away. But she is not doing it. She
starts talking instead.

"Excuse me, miss?" Yes, definitely Aileen. Though a little older. Maybe my sister will be the same thing when she grows up. "Are you planning on taking yourself out with the garbage?" What was that? A joke? It is possible that she's not a lost cause after all... "Because I can assure you, you're definitely not trash". Thanks for the explanation. Of course I am not trash. I'm a human. Not that hard to notice!

What do I answer? I take a deep breath and try to scare her away. I don't come here to spend some time with my sister's twin. Raising an eyebrow, I ask with a horrid grimace: "Didn't your parents tell you that good little girls don't talk to strangers in the street?" Then I stretch my legs to let the hole on my pants show (it is right above the knee) and go on: "As for your question, I am just having breakfast on my villa here." I pull the stinking sardine out of one of my pockets and take a bite: "Mmm... Mouth-watering! Want some?"

Now she will scream. Or look at me with confusion. And then run away. She definitely will. And I will finish my snack in peace.

[goat]

camilla schrader-fairbanks

People are not always nice to me. I think it's because they're not used to having kindness given to them, so they lash out in anger. In turn, the people they're cruel to become cruel themselves. It's a vicious circle that I won't play into. I won't let my heart become cold. I want to help the mean people, instead of stooping to their level. When the girl scowls at me, I simply respond with a smile.

'Didn't your parents tell you that good little girls don't talk to strangers in the street?" She asks, before making a big show of eating what can only be something from her throne of trash. Does she not have any food at home? Perhaps she's homeless. Oh my, that could explain her sour attitude. She offers me a bite.

Maybe she's trying to get rid of me. That's what those sorts of people do, after all. They push everybody away. It pains me that there are people in the world that aren't happy. There's so much suffering in our very own backyard. It's impossible to fix everybody, but there's a girl in front of me who could use my help.

"No, thank you," I say, clutching the wrapped package tighter in my hands. "I already had breakfast."

I walk closer until I'm under the shadow of the building. I can see her better now- A bruise is spreading across her nose, and her shirt is stained with drops of blood. I wonder what she's been through today. Maybe I should talk to her. I know I have deliveries to make, but it feels wrong to leave an obviously troubled person alone! "I'm Camilla," I tell her, even though she didn't ask. "My parents are woodcarvers. We mostly make ducks."

That information wasn't necessary, but I tend to ramble pretty badly. Keep it in check, Camilla. Offer to help her. "Are you hungry? I can buy you food. Eating garbage isn't sustainable. I'm going to get some money from this delivery, if you're willing to wait."

[Sleepy Fluttershy]

Leticia Wheeler

The girl doesn't run away, though. I wonder if she's really lost her way home. She smiles at me. I know it's impossible, but that's what she does. Like I am the new shiny toy, not a scary thingie sitting in the trash. "No, thank you. I already had breakfast". Lucky you, then. You know what breakfast is. And I don't. So, maybe, if I keep silence, that's the end of discussion and this blue elf will finally leave me alone.

There is a short pause and I try to take a closer look at her. She's not as small as I thought. Pretty high, actually. I hope she isn't older than me. It would make that "little girl" comment look ridiculous. Though she knows nothing about life, it's clear. She is lucky to run into me, not some criminal gang. Wonder if she would have the time to say "hello" before they robbed her. And where are the parents looking? I catch myself on a thought, that I've almost forgotten about the Aileen part of her. Maybe I should just try to be as nice as I can and show her the right way?

Then the girl speaks again. "I'm Camilla. My parents are woodcarvers. We mostly make ducks." Well, that explains it. She probably was delivering something and decided to use this road as a shortcut... Why would I care anyway? And what is that she is trying to do? Make friends? "Are you hungry? I can buy you food." Is it only me or has this really gone too far? "Eating garbage isn't sustainable". That's what they always tell the kids at home and at school, child. It turned out to be more than sustainable, when I tried it first. Don't believe what they tell you, just try it and you'll understand. You only have to choose carefully if you don't want to get into a hospital. Her voice drives me out of my thoughts again: "I'm going to get some money from this delivery, if you're willing to wait". Interesting. She probably thinks I'm homeless, or that I haven't been eating in weeks. Maybe I have to answer something instead of just spitting on the ground and taking another bite, like I was actually planning to do seconds ago.

I lean independently against a broken chair and clear my throat. When she's talking to me like that, it's simply annoying, because now I almost want to say something awfully polite to her. But that's not gonna happen. I will talk, in the way I always do it: "I'm Leticia. My mom works in a factory. She mostly makes money." Now I have to turn a phrase "And I don't need your charity, kid" into something more original and not very rude: "And don't worry about me, I'd rather be a trash queen, than a food beggar. Besides, it's only my breakfast. The dinner will be much more 'sustainable' than this". Probably shouldn't have said that last one... Am I really going to describe my menu to someone I barely know? Especially if this someone looks like my 'honey-angel' sister.

Let's talk about something else... I am trying desperately to figure out, what to say before she becomes even nicer. "And I'm sure it won't be the money of your own. Stealing from the family budget is a dishonest thing to do. By the way, you didn't just take this road to meet me, did you? I can show you the way if you're lost. Isn't it rude to keep the customer waiting?"

[goat]

camilla schrader-fairbanks

She leans back and clears her throat. An act of intimidation.

"I'm Leticia. My mom works in a factory. She mostly makes money." I think she's mocking me, but I can't be completely sure. This girl- sorry, wait, she gave me her name. It would be rude not to use it. Leticia carries herself like there's a ten foot wall around her, a wall that came as a result of being hurt one too many times. She assures me that her dinner will be more sustainable than whatever she can pull out of the garbage. Well, I'm not swayed. People who need help often deny that they need it. Maybe she doesn't even see that there's a problem.

Leticia says some more things, something about me stealing from my parents' business (not true!), implying that I'm lost (which I'm not!), and telling me it's rude to keep the customer waiting. Well, if it's rude to keep a customer waiting, but the customer in question is rude, doesn't my rudeness cancel out? I don't know. I didn't do well in school.

I walk just close enough that my face isn't obscured by shadows, but so there's no garbage under my bare feet yet. "It wouldn't be stealing," I tell her, something that feels suspiciously like annoyance bubbling up my throat. I choke it down. "Besides, it would be for the greater good. Everybody has to eat."

My eyes glance down the path I need to follow. The old hag's house isn't far from here. I shudder thinking about walking up to her front porch, the very porch she judges me and other kids from. "And I'm not lost. I would prefer to keep this customer waiting. Between you and I, she isn't pleasant."

An idea strikes me. Maybe, if I play my cards right, I could get Leticia to come with me! Technically, she did offer. It would get her away from this questionable pile of garbage, where she'll have no choice but to properly converse with me! I wouldn't have to face the terrifying woman alone, either. I take a dramatic step backwards. "She's a creepy old woman, that one. I suppose I'll just have to go alone. Unless your offer to show me the way includes escorting me there, of course."

[Sleepy Fluttershy]

Leticia Wheeler

The girl takes a few steps forward. One more move - and she will step on the rubbish... No, she won't. She starts speaking again. "It wouldn't be stealing". Looks like she's a bit annoyed by my words. Well, I don't know what she means by stealing, but having your parents work day and night and then giving the money away to feed some random person in the street is definitely not fair. And it's a ridiculous thing to do for someone above the age of ten. Besides, I have already refused her help and made myself quite clear about it, what else does she want? "...It would be for the greater good. Everybody has to eat". She's got the point. Everybody has to eat, including her and her family, why waste money on me? I've got my own mother to care about feeding me dinner.

She looks away and stares somewhere with something that looks pretty much like terror in her eyes. "And I'm not lost. I would prefer to keep this customer waiting. Between you and I, she isn't pleasant." That's interesting. Who is this mysterious customer if she's so afraid of her? She wasn't afraid of me... Is there really someone she fears? I try to remember the people living in the street down that path. They are all unknown to me, except for my school teacher. She's rather nice to everybody who acts nicely (and Camilla looks more than just nice), which means it can't be her. Maybe someone I don't know.

"She's a creepy old woman, that one. I suppose I'll just have to go alone. Unless your offer to show me the way includes escorting me there, of course." A spark shines through my head instantly. Yes, of course, my teacher has got a mummy, how could I forget about her? She came to our house a couple of times to inform my mother about my grades and bad attitude, when the teacher was busy. I escaped her through the window in my room, but my sister was crying all day long after her visit. She really can freak people out. So that's it, then! Camilla is not afraid of the homeless weirdos, but a tiny old woman scares her.

Even if she didn't invite me, I would follow her there. I have to take revenge for the last time she paid us a visit and all the tears Aileen spilled in her pillow. We may not see eye to eye and may not like each other, but she's still my sister. And she doesn't have the stomach to do it herself, so I have to complete the mission instead. I laugh quietly and ask in an amused voice: "Wait, you mean you're afraid of my teacher's mommy? Third house on the left, right? That creepy old hag is definitely not a gift to the humanity, is she? Well, of course I'm coming! Just wait till I climb down, okay?"

I jump down from the trash pile, take the book and shake the rubbish off my pants. "Let's go!" Time to have some fun.