Dawn (7340)
Chapter 1
“Mother,
Mother, I’m going out to look at the flowers in the garden now, okay?” young
Christina chirped, already halfway out the door by the time she made the
announcement. She looked as rosy and
splendid as princesses came these days, her soft flaxen hair draped girlishly
about her neck and her neatly pressed dress glowing with a pale sheen in the
summertime sundance.
“Of course, my lovely daughter. Just be sure to stay away from the bumbling bees!” replied the Queen with a somewhat nauseating voice that parents seem to believe appeals to the young’uns. Mother was sitting at her throne, taking care of some sort of business or other with her beloved fountain pen, Christina noted with a smile.
The
princess skipped out of the castle gates into the elegantly trimmed garden
lined with rose bushes and rhododendrons.
Carefully, she looked over her shoulder, and when she was satisfied that
her mother was too busy (as usual) to pay her any mind, she darted through her
secret tunnel through a couple of rhododendron bushes into the adjacent field
(traveling through rose bushes is discouraged), rushing up and down the meadowy
hills until she arrived at the glistening moat.
“Hey,
Terance, Raoul, Micaela, are you there?” she called, her hands cupped on either
side of her mouth.
“Yeah,
I’ve got the ladder, just hold on,” came the reply from beyond the grassy
horizon.
Impatiently,
Christina tapped her feet on the rocky moat walls, enjoying the clackety-clack
of the loosely piled stones below her shoes.
All of a sudden, one of the stones gave, and Christina found herself
tottering precariously over the water.
“Yeek!”
she shrieked, her hands reaching out desperately, locking suddenly onto the
nearest graspable objects. When she
looked up, she realized that she was holding onto one end of a wooden ladder,
and Terance, with a wide smile, was holding onto the other.
“Um,
don’t let go,” said Christina, trying to regain some sort of footing on her
side of the moat.
“Oh?”
said Terance, temporarily letting go of the left side of the ladder, making
Christina tilt awkwardly.
“You
wouldn’t dare,” warned Christina, staring semi-threateningly at her friend.
Terance
picked up the left side and promptly let go of the right. “You were saying?”
“Hold
it straight so I can get out!” growled the girl.
Sighing,
Terance quit his games and held both sides firmly. Christina slowly pulled the ladder towards the edge of the moat,
straightening her body with meditative determination.
“Hey,
Terance, you still down there?” called Raoul from above.
Terance
answered, “Yeah, why?”
But
it was already too late, and the soccer ball smashed into Terance’s head,
causing him to let go of the ladder and, worse, levelling the carefully
arranged spikes of hair in the center of his crown. Being a responsible kid, he immediately regained his senses and
caught the ladder on the way down before Christina could tumble into the moat,
but now the duo was back to square one.
Christina
giggled helplessly, her arms turning jiggly and nearly unable to clutch the
wood any longer.
“And
just what is so funny?!” cried Terance.
“You
look like a sea urchin turned on its back!
With a little mouth in the middle of the spikes.”
“Oh
no!” cried Terance, reaching up to tap the middle of his head, confirming the
worst of his fears. “Christina, it’s
all over! My hair’s all messed up ….”
Of
course, Christina at this moment was some ten meters downstream, her mouth too
occupied with spitting out water to coherently express her heartfelt, chaste thoughts
about Terance. The boy squinted,
bringing into focus the only part of Christina that was consistenly above the
water: her gorgeous middle finger jutting heavenward in a distressed cry for
help.
The
boy ran along his side of the moat, catching up to Christina and seeing the
soccer ball bobbing a meters in front of her.
He looked at the princess, and then at the ball, and back and forth for
a short while, caught in a monumental dilemma.
“Which
should I pull out first?” he wondered out loud. But the debate was short; his heart was knightly to the bitter
end – a bit of logic would conclude that, first, the helpless soccer ball could
not possibly rescue itself while the tomboyish Christina certainly could, and,
secondly, the soccer ball seemed to be a good deal cuter, better behaved, and
all around more of a damsel in distress at this moment. Terance leaned over and snatched out the
cold, sputtering soccer ball, holding it dearly to his chest, and sure enough,
Christina climbed out on her own, ladder in hand, just a few seconds later.
“Oh
thank goodness you’re alright,” said Terance to the soccer ball, closing his
eyes selflessly as Obi-Wan once did in another legend far, far away. The pain would be transient, but the
sacrifice would last forever.
At
the top of the hill, Raoul and Micaela greeted Christina, asking what on Earth
had gone on down there, and where Terance had ended up.
“I
think he’s still down there,” said Christina sweetly. “He went to retrieve the ball.”
“Did
it fall into the moat?” asked Micaela.
“Yeah,”
said Christina. Terance’s head
appeared, and then his torso, and then the rest of his body emerged onto the
hill, crouched over but clutching the soccer ball.
“Ow,”
he groaned, clearly experiencing pain in his groin
Micaela
stared at him strangely, asking, “How exactly did you hurt your balls getting
the …,” but she trailed off before she could finish her question, suddenly
contorting her face in horror.
“Christina, which … what type of ball fell in the moat?!”
“What?!”
shouted Christina. “The soccer ball,
you perverted, messed up child!”
Raoul
cleared his throat, hoping to derail the conversation. “Christina, go get changed so we can
start. I don’t think you can pretend to
be in the flower garden for much longer.”
Christina
nodded, catching the spare outfit that Micaela always brought for her. She changed out in the open, noting that her
twelve-year-old body was honestly about as exciting to her guy-friends as the
lump of coal they would find in their stockings if Santa caught them peeping.
“Okay,
let’s play!” she announced, tossing her soaked dress over to the side. Unrelatedly, an old ant, weary of life,
climbed onto one of the pleats and waved his antennae one last time.
“Boys
versus girls?” asked Raoul.
“Nah,
how about you and me versus Chrissie and Terance. They make such a cute couple!”
“No!”
shouted Christina and Terance in unison.
“Aw,
you guys are no fun,” said Micaela, giving a somewhat suggestive wink in
Raoul’s general direction.
“Eww,”
said Christina. “That’s so … high
school.”
And
so the sexes were pitted against one another.
Terance managed to get the ball first, dribbling down the right side of
their makeshift field towards the smiley-face-adorned sacks of gravel that
marked the girls’ goal.
“Yo,
Raoul!” he called, signaling for a pass, then suddenly stopping short. “Hey, girls, what gives? Where’s your D?”
Terance
and Raoul turned around to see Christina and Micaela bent over a large rock,
not paying any attention to the game whatsoever.
“Hey,
guys, check this out!” shouted Micaela.
“What
is it?” asked Raoul.
“Your
mom! Ohohoho.”
It
may be noteworthy to remark that Micaela never really outgrew the ‘your mom’
phase of adolescence, like many individuals in the modern world.
All
four were soon clustered around the rock, each not daring to make the first
statement of their observations, which would undoubtedly come out sounding
stupid. But at last, Terance could take
it no longer.
“You
guys, you’re staring at a lump of bird poop.”
Raoul
nodded slowly in affirmation.
“On
a rock,” continued Terance, noting bitterly that the second statement to be
made also sounded quite stupid, and this he certainly blamed on his horoscope.
Raoul
nodded again.
“This
is no ordinary bird poop,” stated Christina with consternation. “This is pearly bird poop.”
“From
a pearly bird,” added Micaela. “Pearly
birds make pearly poop.”
“I
wanna see!” squealed Christina with delight, running into the forest.
“Why
are you so spazzy!” shouted Terance after her, and soon the four of them were
deep in the shadows of the woods.
“We’re never going to find some stupid pearly bird in the whole big fat
forest.”
And
yet the gang’s momentum did not break, through brush and thorns, mud and
streams, until at last they spotted a large iridescent bird in the distance.
“Wow,
it’s just like the inside of an abalone shell!” exclaimed Raoul.
“Your
mom’s an abalone shell!” exclaimed Micaela.
“Shut
up, Micaela.”
“It
must be the queen of all birds!” exclaimed Christina.
“Your
mom’s the queen!” exclaimed Micaela.
“No
shit, Einstein. That’s the only way you
can be a princess,” Christina said.
“Just watch the damn bird.”
At
this defeat, Micaela fell silent. In
all of your mom’s a history, your mom’s a your mom joke had never your mom
encountered a situation where your mom actually turned out to be true.
The
bird