A girl named Finn

Chapter Four - Must. Not. Forget.

Jack

Sarah and I settle into our after-school routine, which involves me making lunch and her telling me about her day.

It's usually filled with Sarah gushing about her latest group of friends. As annoying as it is, I really hope she does it again today.

I don't even bother to check if anyone else is home, because I know that they won't be.

Dad is hard at work, doing God knows what. And mom is out schmoosing the town people, or whatever it is she does.

Glancing over at Sarah, I was pleased to find that she is already going at warped speed telling me about her day.

"..I joined the debate team, Jamie is on the debate team, and she said that it's fun. I don't know if I will be any good though. It's all about talking though, so I think I can manage."

I try and hide my smile. Sarah has always been completely oblivious to most things and I hope she stays that way.

Her actions and opinions aren't swayed by fear of people's reactions to her, and I love that about her.

She continues to tell me about how they played volleyball in PE and that she has tons of homework to do. Unlike me, most of her classes are ahead of her previous school, so she has lots of catching up to do.

I offer to help her out if she gets stuck. She jumps off her chair and comes over to me and throws her arms around me squeezing me as tight as her little arms will allow.

"What's this for?"

She smiles up at me as I ruffle her hair and hug her back.

"Just cause."

After lunch Sarah heads up to her room. Standing at the foot of the staircase, I yelled, "Hey Sarah, I am going down to the basement, okay? I have my phone if you need me." I shouted.

The basement formally became my space a few years ago, regardless of our actual address. Arising from an agreement I made with my parents around our third move.

Annoyed at their lack of interest in Sarah and helping her adjust each time we moved, I had arranged with my parents that they would pay to have my studio set up each time we moved in exchange for me 'helping' them with Sarah. They didn't need to know that I have been doing it all along and would continue to do it regardless. I don't see why I couldn't gain from their complete ignorance and lack of interest in the lives of their children.

Heading down the stairs to the basement, I flick on the lights. The smell of clay hits my nostrils and all the tension of the move and the annoying new town disappears.

I had been working on a piece to assist with my application to California Institute of the Arts and Columbia. They are the only two schools I haven't heard back from, so I figured perhaps I should add something to boost my application.

And Cal Arts is also the reason I have to endure Mr Banks' American Lit class, as it's one of the criteria for admission. Speaking of which, I have five chapters to read before tomorrow.

Shit. Must. Not. Forget.

I set an alarm to get out of here by ten knowing that I can easily get lost down here for hours. It has happened to me quite a few times. The only way I realised it previously was when Sarah would yell at me from the top of the staircase, or send me a text on her way back to bed from a bathroom run.

She usually swings by my room on her midnight bathroom runs, even though she has a bathroom in her bedroom.

It's our thing, we check up on each other.

Before I know it my hands are gliding across the base of my sculpture covered in clay, and the entire outside world no longer exists. I have a ridiculous smile on my face.

This is totally my thing. Sculpting.

I do this simply because I can. I don't mean to be arrogant. I mean it as a simple statement of fact.

I don't know how it came about. It's just something I was able to do. One day, I was placed in front of a blob of clay, and my hands just started moving, as if they had a life and mind of their own.

I don't know if the ability was always there, and I only just discovered it on that day. I had been sitting there for nearly two hours. Long after the summer camp class had been dismissed.

Yes my parents forced us to go to summer camp as well, the ideal opportunity to get rid of your kids for a bit without any judgment.

So after the trance broke, I found myself sitting in front of a fifteen-inch tree. I was in complete shock.

I had somehow managed to transfer the image that was in my head onto the clay.

I wasn't even aware that the image was there. The tree in front of me was a miniature replica of the tree I played in, in the backyard of our first home.

I looked at the carved lines on the bark, the extension of the branches, the bunched up leaves, it was all there. I was in shock. I couldn't believe I had done that.

I went back the next day and the next to do it again. Initially, I had only gone back to see if I was still able to do it, petrified that it would have just been a fluke. Part of me felt like I had just discovered I have super powers, and I was convinced that at any moment they would disappear, just like everything else in my life.

But it didn't. In fact, I got better each time. That's how it became what I do, an extension of me. So it may have started out as something I do because I can; now it is simply something I need to do. I still have that tree. Somehow, I don't think I will ever be able to create anything as amazing as that.

But that's not the answer I give on my application forms when I am asked why I do what I do. The answer on my application forms are way more rehearsed, generic and fake, it goes something like this:

The ability to mould, shape and influence absolute mush into something beautiful....something that will last forever...beauty that can transform and affect people's lives, people's thinking... My ability to put my stamp on the world...

It took me days to compile that load of crap.

Before I know it, the alarm I set is beeping annoyingly. I head to the kitchen to grab some food before settling in my room.But before I can leave the kitchen, I see the driveway light up as one of my parent's cars pulls in. Not in the mood to have any sort of interaction with either of them, I walked away before they entered. Making my way to my room, I checked in on Sarah who was fast asleep.

Settling down on my bed, I cracked open The Scarlett Letter. About twenty minutes in, there is a knock at my door. I know who it is, since Sarah would never knock, because she never needs to.

"What?" The annoyance at the intrusion was obvious in my voice.

"Hey Jackie", My mother weakly whispers. I can tell that she is trying, but the problem with this is that it's way too late.

I ignore her and continue reading, or at least try to. She decides to ignore my attempts at brushing her off and tries again, sitting down on the edge of my bed.

"So how was your first day?" I barely looked up at her and mumbled something resembling, fine. She decides to power through.

"How is Sarah? Did she have a good day? I see you guys had supper. Don't worry, I tidied up." What the f**k? This woman is seriously trying my patience. Is she expecting gratitude because she wiped down a counter? I ignore her, it's for the best. Accepting defeat, she rose to her feet. Hesitantly, she raises her hand and touches the top of my head as she says good night and walks out of my room.

I am not quite sure what the hell that was, but I am glad it's over.

It's just a little after eleven when I finally finished the five chapters. I decided on a quick shower before heading to bed. On my way to my room after my shower, I can hear the attempted hushed argument my parents are having downstairs. There used to be a time when I would try and listen to find out what it was about. Now, I ignore it. It doesn't concern me. It's not as if I need to be concerned about the two of them separating, if it was an option, it would have happened by now. I closed my door to ignore the fools downstairs.

Morning comes way too soon and I am abruptly awoken by Sarah standing at my bed, pulling and shoving my shoulder. She is complaining about my inability to hear my alarm and needing her to do this every morning. Moaning, I roll over tucking my head under the covers.

"Go away Sarah."

"No Jack. Come on, I am going to be late if you don't get up right now! And I don't want to be late. If I am late, I have to walk in alone."

And I can hear the sadness and fear in her voice. Crap! Now I feel bad.

"Fine, give me five minutes, I will meet you downstairs..."

Sarah is sitting at the kitchen counter having cereal, when I get there. She has prepped a bowl for me too.

"Thanks Squirt." I said as I ruffled her hair. She hates it when I do it and more so when I call her anything besides Sarah. I don't do it often, but I have to tease her. It's part of my job. She is furiously texting, so she doesn't pay too much attention to me.

"Hey PeeWee, who are you texting?" She ignored me. I give her a few more seconds of mercy.

"Smelly, I said, who are you texting?" Her head snaps up at the mention of her most hated pet name I have for her, but I have to admit I didn't give her that one.

This nickname has been my go-to, since she was about eight. Sarah had gone for a sleepover. The little girl had a nine-year-old brother. And the i***t had gone and told all the girls that he had just walked past the bathroom and Sarah was in there making a 'giant smelly', his words. The girls teased her and so did the silly boy. They had also gone through the trouble of calling her the highly creative name of "Smelly".

I obviously roughed the boy up a bit the following Monday, nothing hectic. I just scared the s**t out of him, excuse the pun, and made sure he stayed away from her. But I still tease her about it every now and then.

"I was just washing my hands!! That's all! How many times do I have to tell you that?" Sarah was literally fuming. That was the first and only time Sarah was grateful that we moved around a lot. She couldn't wait for us to leave.

"Whatever" I said between chuckles. "You haven't answered my question, who are you texting?"

"Oh, yes. Jamie, can we give her a ride to school this morning?" Dropping her bowl and mine in the dishwasher, she waits for my response.

She doesn't see my confusion.

"Jamie is a girl, right?" I asked as I reached for my wallet to give Sarah her lunch money.

"Yes, doofus, I did say 'her'." She rolls her eyes at me.

"Oh, right." I am a bit distracted by the fact that I forgot to get cash for my own lunch, so I would need to stop at an ATM. Sarah takes my silence as reluctance.

"Earth to Jack?"

"Sure, get her address." Once we are in the car Sarah gives me the directions to her friend's house. She tells me that Jamie asked that she wait in the driveway. She was given specific instructions to not come to the door. I don't have the heart to tell Sarah that that is weird.

Besides, I really want to see her.