Hail Mary

CHAPTER FIVE

Twelve years ago, I was a lonesome 16-year-old who was entirely trapped in his own bubble, never caring about the world. I usually preferred to keep to myself and did not allow anyone in -- not even my parents, not even my brother.

It was the summer after my eleventh year in school. Like most days, I'd wake up early in the morning to make sure my parents were not awake to see me leave the house, or I wouldn't hear the end of their yelling and screaming, telling me that I was not going anywhere with my life.

"Cliff?" I heard my little brother say who was still in his bed as he rubbed the sleep off his eyes, squinting as he tried to get a proper look at me.

I was careful not to make a sound when I was grabbing the backpack under my bed, but it didn't surprise me that he was woken up by the hushed sound, since he was a very light sleeper.

I pretended not to notice him. I pulled my trainers from the other side of the bed, holding each one in my hands, my backpack slung on my right shoulder. I made sure that the cans in the bag wouldn't create noise as I assisted the weight with my forearm.

I tiptoed out of the room that I shared with my little brother, thankful for the gap between the door and the sill because my parents wouldn't be able to hear the loud click of the doorknob.

Chip, my little brother who was barely ten years old, whom I shared a bedroom with all his life -- who often looked at me like I was an alien in my own household, who was positive I was eventually going to annihilate our entire family – like anybody else, was like a little glitch in my program, a nuisance. I have doubted if I ever liked him since he was born.

Did I feel guilty that I treated him as if he was invisible?

No. I could only care less.

I departed from home without a hitch. As soon as I was sure I was far enough, I bent down on the pavement to put my trainers on both feet -- left first, then right.

I attempted to be covert as I was traveling the streets of the borough, but the clanks of metals -- now that they were loose inside the bag -- were making it impossible. I reveled at the sound if I was being honest. I felt satisfied knowing that I was free to do whatever it was that I liked.

I entered an empty alley, trash bags, empty cans, and bottles that were for recycling were left lying on both sides of the road, nesting against the external walls of the buildings. I went straight ahead and followed the trail toward a tall gate. I hunched over and made myself small to fit into the gaping hole between the barbed wire, and took a deep breath like I was about to dive into deep water.

I resumed my upright steps until I was faced with a tall wall at the far end of the desolate space. I took the time to observe the whole area. There were a few small populations of grass that sprouted in between bald spots on the ground. Two or three abandoned cars were found parked on different corners; the wind whistled through the tiny gaps of broken glass windows.

It was eerily quiet, but it was the kind of quiet that I welcomed wholeheartedly.

I proceeded to my mission for the day. I opened the zip of my bag to reveal the cans of spray paint, each one a different color than the next. I let the cans spill on the ground by turning the bag upside down before organizing them with their corresponding shades. My index finger tapped my chin as I tried to decide which color I should go with first.

Once I had decided on gray, I stood up and finally started creating various lines on the wall.

"You know that that's vandalism, right?"

I jumped at the sudden sound that echoed in the area. I could feel the goosebumps rise on my arms and behind my neck.

I automatically turned around and averted my sight from my masterpiece on the wall to the scrawny girl who scared the living hell out of me.

I looked around again, trying to see if there was someone else with her. I was relieved to find no one.

Her hair was brown and loose as a few strands were gliding in the wind. Her cheeks were flushed, and freckles like constellations around her sharp nose. Her pink lips were pressed in a tight line, neither smiling nor giving away any emotion, arms folded behind her. She was wearing a white mini dress, the fabric so thin I could see the patterns of her innocent underwear.

I cringed at myself, and quietly cursed as I closed my eyes. I shook my head and went back to my spray painting. I felt her steps as she got closer. I squirmed at the thought of being in proximity to another individual -- a girl even, to say the least. I was slightly panicking, trying as if I might not mind her.

"This is vandalism." I heard her say again from behind me, as if I had not heard her the first time. Her voice sounded meek and unsure even though she evidently wanted to sound confident.

"This is an abandoned area." I caught myself saying, but immediately regretted it. This girl succeeded in finally getting a reaction out of me with just two sentences. I was getting angry at myself.

I decided that it would be the first and last time that I would respond to her. I was very sure that it would also be the last time I was going to see this mysterious girl anyway.

"It's still vandalism if it's not your property." She commented matter-of-factly.

I continued, unfazed, the spray of paint satisfyingly whizzing against the concrete.

"Millie!"

I heard another sound, this one smaller and meeker than the previous one. I turned around again and saw a small girl holding a bunch of white flowers, running towards the other person who was standing behind me.

The tall girl automatically cowered down to hold the small girl up to her waist. Face to face, they giggled at each other, and I watched as the tall girl kissed the little one on her forehead, which was reciprocated with a tight embrace by the other, thin and tiny arms lingering on the other's shoulders.

"Millie." The little girl said, who continued giggling as if she was being tickled.

It was only then that I realized that both girls were just walking around without shoes on, nothing to protect the soles of their feet from the elements, barefoot.

A tear almost escaped from my eyes.

My heart sank. The sweat formed beads on my forehead. And I heard the sweet release of the breath from my lungs.

What a strange, strange feeling.