Perfection Is Possible
Sandra doesn't want to go on with life. She's missed two years of school thanks to her never-ending depression. Her parents, who can't take her anymore, send her off to a rather strange boarding school. She has almost no problem adapting to the new school, and each day, she improves as a person. But... At what cost?
Andrea Young feels uncomfortable in her own skin, as she's different from most 14-year-old girls. How far will she go to change that?
Kill Me- Second Part of Introduction
"Now think about something you wish to improve." He says. I close my eyes, think hard. There are so many things I want to improve about myself. The first one that pops into my mind, I use that one. I tap the necklace and then...
Was I expecting some sort of magical reaction? I had lived in the world of fairytales for too long, maybe. Or maybe I was expecting it to be something more realistic, like a button with a hidden prank or something. But nothing actually happened. I had been fooled.
Just then, the bell for class rang. It was the one thing normal about this school. It was so strange, just all of it. The people were the first strange thing you'd notice. They were the friendliest human beings ever. Some of them were so perfect, it was impossible to list a defect. Nice, beautiful, smart and talented. They were just that: perfect.
The second strange thing was the classes. It was not your average second, eight or eleventh grade. There were only 3 categories: beginner, intermediate and advanced. Greg explained that every new student was placed on beginner.
My beginners class was full of average people. They weren't perfect like the others, but at least they seemed better than me. I took seat next to the window, to have some air and entertainment. Back at my old school, I could never sit in the middle of the classroom.
"I'm Alaira, want to be friends?" A girl with a southern accent told me. She was for once, the most unique person of the group. Her skin was light but her hair was a dark shade of brown, and she had small, brown eyes. In a way, her face seemed so similar to Drea's. Yet it was so different.
"Alaira, I'll probably forget it soon." I told her. "I'm Sandra."
She smiled and sat next to me. She stuck her hand inside her jacket and took out a necklace. It was golden, a circle with lines but the pattern of the lines was different to mine. "A'ight so, have you tried out your necklace?"
"Have you tried your necklace?" She repeated, slowly and putting weight to each syllable.
"What do you mean by that?" I frowned.
"Well I'm guessing an older student is taking you around. They must have a necklace that's similar to yours, right? That is a wishing necklace. Anything you wish to improve, you wish onto your helper's necklace." She explained,or that was at least what I was able to understand. She spoke so quick it was hard to catch what she said word for word.
"Do you actually believe it works? I thought it was a first-day of school prank or something similar."
"It's very true!" She told me. "I'm a shy person, the fact that I was able to just walk up to you proved my wish came true!"
"Maybe it only did because you believed it. Like a placebo effect on medicines."
" I find it highly unlikely. A placebo can't cure cancer. "
It was amazing to see that the the thing about the necklace was true. It was that same day, on Physical Education that I learned of its power. I'm completely inactive. I can't score in any sport to save my life. It was a magical happening when the teacher called me up for a race.
The contestants were eight girls: two advanced's, three beginners, two intermediates and me. They were all tall and in optimal shape, whereas my body was so irregular and unfit. I expected to faint in the first 50 meters, but to my surprise, when I started the race, I felt as light as a feather. Finished it the same way, and in first place.
"Congratulations, Sandra!" They said. I realized, that was the first time anyone from my class had praised me.
Now that I think back, I have made so many wishes ever since. In only three months, I managed to enter the advanced class. I kicked out depression. Maybe what I needed was school, or Alaira, or Greg or maybe even Fabiola- Alaira's helper. It was a thing I realized for the first time ever in my life: Perfection is possible.
"My, Sandra, your cooking is delicious!" Mother told me, with an expressionless face. In the months I had gotten better, she worsened. She didn't stand the exact six feet she used to, now she's gotten smaller and has put on weight. She barely cares about make-up and her clothes have gotten really unfashionable lately. She's aged 30 years in 3 months. She finally began to appear her age, and maybe even more.
I smiled at her. She made me feel pity. Was this how she felt when I was depressed?
The doorbell rang, and I stood up in a matter of seconds, ready to answer the door. Mother called behind me: "Sit, Sandra. I'll go get it, most probably they want me." She said in her low, raspy voice. I was definite: she wasn't the same woman I left behind months ago. The immortal lady had become so vulnerable with time.
"Sandra!" He called. I wondered what Greg was doing at my home, specially during vacation.
I opened my mouth to ask him What in hell do you think you're doing? but just then, the phone rang. He grabbed my left wrist strong, not letting go of it. I tried to go get the phone but he pulled even harder. I struggled against his large hand on my tiny wrist and he then caught both of my hands. "Let me go, jerk. The phone is ringing."
To my luck, my mother had heard it. She picked it. "Sandra, it's for you. It's some Fabiola." She told me.
"Please, Mrs. Young, hang up that phone."
"Mother, tell me, what is it?"
Her face said it all. It was something important. Her eyes opened wide, her jaw dropped. She hung up the phone and turned away. "Fabiola told me to tell you that someone you knew named... Valeria? Was it?"
"Alaira." I guessed. Greg loosened his grip on my wrists, until he completely let go.
"She has passed away." She said, her voice monotone.
I don't know what happened after that. I know I fell, and I fell hard. I bumped my head against the kitchen table, breaking the glass and some plates. The impact must have opened my skin, because when I woke up, my arms were full of stitches.
I woke up in a car. The car that smelled of strawberries with the red seats and classical music playing at a rather high volume. That was Greg's car. My arms burned like hell's flames were on them. It was the only proof that this wasn't a dream, because I couldn't see mother.
"Where's...." I began to ask, but my voice failed me.
"She's at your house, where we left her." He answered.
"Alaira." I said. Silence filled the air, the only sound was the one of the wind hitting the car.
Alaira, why did she have to die?
Greg pulled over to a strange spot. He turned towards me and I sat up, naturally. I wondered what he wanted.
"Before I tell you this, I need some sort of reassurance." He grabbed my left hand. Then, he put a bracelet with numbers."I'll tell you what killed Alaira."
He pulled my necklace close to his, the distance between us was so little: my face was almost on his! The connection of two necklaces together let out a bright light, which seemed to only get brighter. It got brighter, and brighter, until my eyes were about to scream in pain. Then, I blacked out.
It was a cemetery. There was a coffin, three men taking it down. They were dressed in dirty clothes, so I guessed they were workers. A single woman stood, static, in front of the grave, dressed fully in black. Tears came down from her eyes as she held on tightly to a piece of paper, most likely a picture. She was a woman with a pale complexion, but dark hair and eyes. My guess was she was no older than thirty, and she stood no more than five feet tall. Beautiful, overall. She looked somewhat familiar.
I stepped out of the car, out in to the pouring rain. My clothes were soaked in just a matter of minutes, and oddly enough, the only thing I wondered about was whether Greg's bracelet was fine, but when I checked, it was not there. It was gone: and that scared me, but regardless, I kept walking forward. Curiosity killed the cat.
There was a faded name carving on the grave. It read "Michael Angelo Shea 1978-2003", but that was clearly not of someone I knew, plus they had died too long ago. I wondered for the body in the coffin, that the men were done with putting down. One of them approached the lady and whispered in her ear: "I'm very sorry for the death of your daughter, Widow Shea."
It was her coffin that I had so calmly watch descend. And only one person attended her funeral! Now, where were her friends? Her friends from school? I tried to get close to Widow Shea, and attempted to hug her, but she would not respond. I whispered in her ear "I miss her too" but there was no reaction from her part. By that point, I felt frustrated.
"She's not able to sense you. We lie in different dimensions, at the moment." Greg said, behind me.
"Greg, it's Alaira. Where's Fabiola?" I said.
"Fabiola doesn't need to be here. She was just but a helper."
"And Alaira's friend!"
"You don't get it. Do you think, that, all those skills you get because of the necklaces come for free? No! Everything in life has a price."
"Do you mean..."
"The necklace is paid with half your life. The other ones, they're paid with years or months, depending on how necessary they are. Alaira, perfect example of a complete human waste, ended up being the perfect being. But she paid with too much life for it."
"Are you meaning..."
"Your clock is ticking too, Sandra. I'll have to take your soul soon."
"Greg, exactly what are you?"
He sighed, as if I had just asked a trick question but he remained qualm. "A demon, that is."
"Fabiola is too. She took Alaira's soul."
"What did she do with it?"
"It's...sort of like human food. An energy source." I shrugged at the thought of one day having to become food. Alaira was food.
"Is there any way of avoiding the fate?"
"Bringing me another soul, of course."
I gasped at the blasphemy that he had just said. A sacrifice. It meant that Drea... No! She would never do that! Drea was my sister, she loved me. She would never hand me to a demon... Or would she?
"Drea did. You were her sacrifice." Greg read my mind.
"No, she's my sister! She would never do that!"
"Sister, mother, stranger: does it even matter? Your life is before the others'. Se didn't care, no one does!" He laughed "That's the grace about these things."
I sighed, and looked down at my feet. "How much time do I have to find the new soul?"
"You have no time. I'm sorry, Sandra. It's time for you to leave."
I snapped out of it. I woke up. I was in the car, lying down with Greg in the driver's seat. He drove fast, maybe even too fast. I had two options: jump off the moving car and meet certain death or stay there and let him kill me. My chances are now or never.
Thanks for reading "Perfection is possible"! I really appreciate it, it means a lot! Now, I'm sorry I couldn't make it a longer story or even show you a glimpse of the school year, the changes Sandra faced. Maybe I'll make a Prequel or make the complete story. MAYBE.