Chapter 2: Take Me Away!
Sarana's Gift will officially launch 1/29/2016! I hope you enjoy reading this chapter. Also ... I would love to hear your comments and thoughts about the story. Please leave your comments and questions. The next chapter will post on 12/23/2015 ... or, from now till 1/29/2016, you can get a complete copy of the story by leaving a note on the Email Us form on the right.
Artists: if this story inspires a piece of art, please share it and what it means to you. We'll share it here on the blog. Send to joycewycoff@gmail.com.
Sarana's GiftChapter 2: Take Me Away! (Available here until 1/20/2016)
The Radiant Question, Joyce Wycoff
Sarah talked and paced around her room while Chloe painted her toenails.
“Mom keeps talking about how difficult it’s going to be to handle the commute while Dad just raves about how cool Stanton will be. Last night he showed me all his oil paintings again. I like them even though they’re all landscapey.
“How come I never see them?” Chloe asked
“Mom won’t let him hang them anywhere except in the guest bedroom. She’s never been much into art.”
“Why didn’t he go to art school?”
“He told me once that he really wanted to but then started working at the shoe store so he could buy a car. I guess he just never got back to it. He acts like this is a second chance or something.”
Sarah exhaled loudly and her hands flailed as she tried to find more words. “What if ... what if I just don’t have what it takes. What if I’m not a real artist. I’ll disappoint everyone.”
“What am I going to do?” Chloe grumbled to herself. “You won’t be here when I need help finding the perfect shoes for the dance. Who’ll go with me to the next Halsey concert or help me with all those history dates,” she continued itemizing complaints in a low monotone.
Sarah sighed, “Mom seems really worried about the money. Maybe this is all too expensive ... ”
A stuffed green turtle struck Sarah across the face. Startled, she looked up to see Chloe glaring at her. “You really are a jerk. You aren’t listening to me at all!”
“Chloe, I’m sorry. It’s just ... well, I just don’t know. Stanton seems so amazing. Did I tell you that one of the project teams wrote and produced a seven-minute video about Malala. Can you imagine actually meeting the youngest Nobel Peace Prize winner?”
“Stop!” Chloe demanded, “I can’t hear one more thing about your precious Stanton.”
Sarah traced the design on the turtle’s back and imagined herself somewhere else ... somewhere in warm water, swimming with the turtles. She shook her head and sighed. “I’m sure I’d never get a chance to be part of something really major like that, anyway. Besides, we’ll ... you know ... we’ll see each other on weekends.”
Chloe turned toward Sarah, her brown eyes sad and damp, “No,” her voice cracked, “No, it will all be different. How will I learn my lines for the school play without you? We’ll never be able to meet for lunch and laugh at the emos who look like they grew up in a basement--”
“--with their ghost skin and black hair,” Sarah finished Chloe’s thought, trying to lighten the mood.
“Really, Chloe, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I would have to get up at 6 every morning and everyone there has all this video experience ... and what if no one likes me or wants to be friends? What if I’m just not good enough?”
Chloe puffed air out of her mouth in her standard expression of dismissal. “Oh, stop being such a dweeb. Of course you’re good enough, who did all the designs for the last three dances and won the Digital Art competition? Of course you’ll get in.”
“But, you know,” Chloe said, glancing sidewise at Sarah, “you could also just stay here with me. There are art classes here, too, you know, and you could work on the yearbook staff.” She paused and then rushed on, “and ... and we could be together!”
Sarah rested her head in her hands and mumbled, “I know. I keep thinking about that. Over and over I keep thinking about that.”
“Arrrgghhhh!” Sarah said, standing up and shaking both fists in the air. “It’s just too complicated. Stanton has all those fun classes and great teachers. Mr. Roberts says it will make all the difference to my future and that I might even get into the Art Institute if I do well at Stanton.“
“See, you do want to go!” Chloe crowed. “I knew it!” her voice trembled. “You can’t wait to get away from here. Away from me! You know I really hate this!” Chloe jerked up off the bed, glared at Sarah and stomped out of the room.
The sound of the door slamming rattled Sarah. She sat down and listened to Chloe’s footsteps on the stairs. Her throat tightened and she wanted to race down the stairs and stop her. Instead she flopped across the bed and buried her face in her pillow. Her thoughts jumbled. She wished someone would just make the decision for her.
Moments later, Sarah’s mom entered the room. “Sarah, what’s going on? Chloe acted really upset. Did you have a fight?”
“Maybe it’s a mistake.” Sarah’s voice was muffled by the pillow.
“What’s a mistake?” her mom asked.
“My, my best ... Chloe hates me.” Sarah’s voice broke. “Everyone thinks I’m, uh, I’m being a diva for even thinking about going off to Stanton.”
Sarah turned toward her mom, “I’m scared. Stanton is so far away. All my friends are going to forget me. And I ... I won’t know anyone.” Sarah sat up with her head in her hands.
“I thought I really wanted to go there, that it would be so amazing. But what if I can’t make it there? What if they don’t like my art?” she whispered.
Sarah’s mom sat on the edge of the bed, “You know, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” she said in an even voice. “You can always stay home and take art classes here.”
Sarah sniffed and looked up. “But, Dad said ...”
“I know what Dad said,” her mother cut in, “but, he’s just remembering how much he wanted to go to art school. This is your life, Sarah, and if you want to stay here with your friends, that’s okay. It would be much easier on you,” she paused before continuing, “... on all of us actually.”
Sarah’s mom spoke a little faster, “It’s a long trip every day and you will be so busy you probably won’t see Chloe much. And, I would miss you, too, you know. It’s so good to have you home every day to watch over Danny.”
“Danny!” Sarah groaned. “Who’ll take care of him after school?”
Sarah’s mom’s back was straight and her tone was even. “I talked to the office about extending my hours, so I can afford to pay Mrs. Griffith to take care of him. They think they can probably adjust my schedule.” She hesitated and then continued, “Of course, it will make it harder to get to Danny’s after-school activities.”
Sarah glanced up at her mom. “I’m sorry, Mom. I forgot how expensive all this is and how much harder it would make it for you. Maybe this isn’t a good idea. Maybe I should just stay here. What if I try and I’m just not good enough?”
“Well, the admissions counselor did say that the competition is very fierce and lots of students don’t make it.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t go at all. Maybe I won’t even get in.”
“Your father and I want the best for you, Sarah, but you have to make your own decision. When are you supposed to hear from them?”
“Sometime this week.” Sarah tried not to look at the envelope that had arrived yesterday. She pulled away and curled into a ball, her back to her mom and stayed there until the door clicked.
Sarah got up, walked across the room and picked up the envelope. She sat down holding it for a long moment then slowly slit the top, pulled out the single sheet of paper and held it in her lap.
“Yes or no?” Her heart pounded as she finally unfolded the paper.
“Unfortunately, we are unable to ...”
The paper fluttered to the floor as Sarah fell back on the pillows, her arms over her eyes. Her chest tightened as thoughts flitted through her mind like moths around a porch light ... Unfortunately, ... Chloe will be happy ... Mr. Roberts will be disappointed ... not good enough to get in ... Mom will be relieved ... Dad will be sad ... we are unable to ...
Sarah stood up and paced around the room. She picked up her journal to write but the words stuck in her pen. She tried to watch an episode of the Gilmore Girls but her mind darted about like a drunken bat. She wished she could just go somewhere, get away. Thought snippets rolled across her mind like a reader board ...
no hour-long commutes ... no cool video projects ... we are not able to ... not a real artist ... too expensive anyway ... just not good enough ... too scary ... it just doesn’t matter ... I don’t matter ...
Shaking her head, she went to her desk and folded gold-foil origami elephants until her eyes grew too heavy to do more. She kept seeing those words, “Unfortunately, we are unable to ...”
Finally, she crawled under the covers and closed her eyes ... I’m really not going to Stanton. I’m really not good enough. I can’t get in. Impossible ...
Suddenly, crowds of people were shouting and tugging at her.
She was running, falling, trying to get up, trying to call for help ...
Over there! A silver-white horse ...
He looks fast. He can take me away ...
Question: What does Sarah need? What do you think is going to happen next? (Please leave your comments or questions in the Comments section below.)
Artists: if this story inspires a piece of art, please share it and what it means to you. We'll share it here on the blog. Send to joycewycoff@gmail.com.
Sarana's GiftChapter 2: Take Me Away! (Available here until 1/20/2016)
The Radiant Question, Joyce WycoffSarah talked and paced around her room while Chloe painted her toenails.
“Mom keeps talking about how difficult it’s going to be to handle the commute while Dad just raves about how cool Stanton will be. Last night he showed me all his oil paintings again. I like them even though they’re all landscapey.
“How come I never see them?” Chloe asked
“Mom won’t let him hang them anywhere except in the guest bedroom. She’s never been much into art.”
“Why didn’t he go to art school?”
“He told me once that he really wanted to but then started working at the shoe store so he could buy a car. I guess he just never got back to it. He acts like this is a second chance or something.”
Sarah exhaled loudly and her hands flailed as she tried to find more words. “What if ... what if I just don’t have what it takes. What if I’m not a real artist. I’ll disappoint everyone.”
“What am I going to do?” Chloe grumbled to herself. “You won’t be here when I need help finding the perfect shoes for the dance. Who’ll go with me to the next Halsey concert or help me with all those history dates,” she continued itemizing complaints in a low monotone.
Sarah sighed, “Mom seems really worried about the money. Maybe this is all too expensive ... ”
A stuffed green turtle struck Sarah across the face. Startled, she looked up to see Chloe glaring at her. “You really are a jerk. You aren’t listening to me at all!”
“Chloe, I’m sorry. It’s just ... well, I just don’t know. Stanton seems so amazing. Did I tell you that one of the project teams wrote and produced a seven-minute video about Malala. Can you imagine actually meeting the youngest Nobel Peace Prize winner?”
“Stop!” Chloe demanded, “I can’t hear one more thing about your precious Stanton.”
Sarah traced the design on the turtle’s back and imagined herself somewhere else ... somewhere in warm water, swimming with the turtles. She shook her head and sighed. “I’m sure I’d never get a chance to be part of something really major like that, anyway. Besides, we’ll ... you know ... we’ll see each other on weekends.”
Chloe turned toward Sarah, her brown eyes sad and damp, “No,” her voice cracked, “No, it will all be different. How will I learn my lines for the school play without you? We’ll never be able to meet for lunch and laugh at the emos who look like they grew up in a basement--”
“--with their ghost skin and black hair,” Sarah finished Chloe’s thought, trying to lighten the mood.
“Really, Chloe, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I would have to get up at 6 every morning and everyone there has all this video experience ... and what if no one likes me or wants to be friends? What if I’m just not good enough?”
Chloe puffed air out of her mouth in her standard expression of dismissal. “Oh, stop being such a dweeb. Of course you’re good enough, who did all the designs for the last three dances and won the Digital Art competition? Of course you’ll get in.”
“But, you know,” Chloe said, glancing sidewise at Sarah, “you could also just stay here with me. There are art classes here, too, you know, and you could work on the yearbook staff.” She paused and then rushed on, “and ... and we could be together!”
Sarah rested her head in her hands and mumbled, “I know. I keep thinking about that. Over and over I keep thinking about that.”
“Arrrgghhhh!” Sarah said, standing up and shaking both fists in the air. “It’s just too complicated. Stanton has all those fun classes and great teachers. Mr. Roberts says it will make all the difference to my future and that I might even get into the Art Institute if I do well at Stanton.“
“See, you do want to go!” Chloe crowed. “I knew it!” her voice trembled. “You can’t wait to get away from here. Away from me! You know I really hate this!” Chloe jerked up off the bed, glared at Sarah and stomped out of the room.
The sound of the door slamming rattled Sarah. She sat down and listened to Chloe’s footsteps on the stairs. Her throat tightened and she wanted to race down the stairs and stop her. Instead she flopped across the bed and buried her face in her pillow. Her thoughts jumbled. She wished someone would just make the decision for her.
Moments later, Sarah’s mom entered the room. “Sarah, what’s going on? Chloe acted really upset. Did you have a fight?”
“Maybe it’s a mistake.” Sarah’s voice was muffled by the pillow.
“What’s a mistake?” her mom asked.
“My, my best ... Chloe hates me.” Sarah’s voice broke. “Everyone thinks I’m, uh, I’m being a diva for even thinking about going off to Stanton.”
Sarah turned toward her mom, “I’m scared. Stanton is so far away. All my friends are going to forget me. And I ... I won’t know anyone.” Sarah sat up with her head in her hands.
“I thought I really wanted to go there, that it would be so amazing. But what if I can’t make it there? What if they don’t like my art?” she whispered.
Sarah’s mom sat on the edge of the bed, “You know, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” she said in an even voice. “You can always stay home and take art classes here.”
Sarah sniffed and looked up. “But, Dad said ...”
“I know what Dad said,” her mother cut in, “but, he’s just remembering how much he wanted to go to art school. This is your life, Sarah, and if you want to stay here with your friends, that’s okay. It would be much easier on you,” she paused before continuing, “... on all of us actually.”
Sarah’s mom spoke a little faster, “It’s a long trip every day and you will be so busy you probably won’t see Chloe much. And, I would miss you, too, you know. It’s so good to have you home every day to watch over Danny.”
“Danny!” Sarah groaned. “Who’ll take care of him after school?”
Sarah’s mom’s back was straight and her tone was even. “I talked to the office about extending my hours, so I can afford to pay Mrs. Griffith to take care of him. They think they can probably adjust my schedule.” She hesitated and then continued, “Of course, it will make it harder to get to Danny’s after-school activities.”
Sarah glanced up at her mom. “I’m sorry, Mom. I forgot how expensive all this is and how much harder it would make it for you. Maybe this isn’t a good idea. Maybe I should just stay here. What if I try and I’m just not good enough?”
“Well, the admissions counselor did say that the competition is very fierce and lots of students don’t make it.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t go at all. Maybe I won’t even get in.”
“Your father and I want the best for you, Sarah, but you have to make your own decision. When are you supposed to hear from them?”
“Sometime this week.” Sarah tried not to look at the envelope that had arrived yesterday. She pulled away and curled into a ball, her back to her mom and stayed there until the door clicked.
Sarah got up, walked across the room and picked up the envelope. She sat down holding it for a long moment then slowly slit the top, pulled out the single sheet of paper and held it in her lap.
“Yes or no?” Her heart pounded as she finally unfolded the paper.
“Unfortunately, we are unable to ...”
The paper fluttered to the floor as Sarah fell back on the pillows, her arms over her eyes. Her chest tightened as thoughts flitted through her mind like moths around a porch light ... Unfortunately, ... Chloe will be happy ... Mr. Roberts will be disappointed ... not good enough to get in ... Mom will be relieved ... Dad will be sad ... we are unable to ...
Sarah stood up and paced around the room. She picked up her journal to write but the words stuck in her pen. She tried to watch an episode of the Gilmore Girls but her mind darted about like a drunken bat. She wished she could just go somewhere, get away. Thought snippets rolled across her mind like a reader board ...
no hour-long commutes ... no cool video projects ... we are not able to ... not a real artist ... too expensive anyway ... just not good enough ... too scary ... it just doesn’t matter ... I don’t matter ...
Shaking her head, she went to her desk and folded gold-foil origami elephants until her eyes grew too heavy to do more. She kept seeing those words, “Unfortunately, we are unable to ...”
Finally, she crawled under the covers and closed her eyes ... I’m really not going to Stanton. I’m really not good enough. I can’t get in. Impossible ...
Suddenly, crowds of people were shouting and tugging at her.
She was running, falling, trying to get up, trying to call for help ...
Over there! A silver-white horse ...
He looks fast. He can take me away ...
Question: What does Sarah need? What do you think is going to happen next? (Please leave your comments or questions in the Comments section below.)
No comments have been added yet.
