Chapter 3: In Which There is Considerable Contemplation
Sorry for the lateness.
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The clock on the car radio read almost noontime, but it was dark outside because of the clouds from the storm. The rain washed all the colors and guts of the butterfly off her windshield. That made it easier to drive. (Let's all cross our fingers that there won't be anymore butterflies flitting around in the middle of a storm.)
Why is she so afraid of hitting freaking butterflies?
She pulled into the parking lot and situated herself in one of the only available spots. Then, instead of getting out of the car and sprinting through the storm, she leaned the seat back and took several deep breaths, contemplating and re-contemplating the ridiculousness she had just encountered, all the while trying to understand exactly why it was bothering her so much. It wasn't the first weird dream she ever had, but there hadn't even really been one so very clear and memorable. Usually, when you wake up from a dream, it's hard to remember it at first, isn't it? There's a period of time that it escapes you, and then eventually it all comes back—or some of it comes back. No, that's not how it was for this dream: Elena remembered it as if she had just lived it. Her memory was as concise an uninterrupted. She remembered the beginning, the middle, then end. Then again, it's not as though she was certain where the dream had begun.
Dare I say... the dream was real?
Of course she didn't have an umbrella. The clock blinked 12:23. (Those two seemingly unrelated statements actually are related.) She finally reasoned it made no sense to go back to school for the rest of lunch and then only two periods of classes. If she was going to miss school, she might as well miss the whole thing. After all, there was no sense running through the rain at that point; by the time she dried off, it would be time to run again. And, since she was so utterly far away from school (all the way at the edge of the parking lot!), it just wasn't even worth it. So, defiantly, she started the windshield wipers back up and pulled out of the parking space.
How are those related at all?!
"Elena?" Aunt Jane called from the kitchen. A few seconds passed and little cousin, Seth (whose name may or may not have already been mentioned) excitedly rounded the corner. He was about four, he was blond, and he was probably going to be a very attractive young man once he grew up. But, for now, he was simply adorable and in the 95th percentile for weight, so he looked like a six or even a seven year old. That's rather irrelevant, isn't it?
Lemony, those things are what I call "character details". They're pretty relevant, unlike the fact that Elena didn't have an umbrella and the time was 12:23.
"It was a bad day this morning," Elena said honestly.
"I thought we talked about this," said Aunt Jane. "Weren't you going to start seeing the school counselor, Mr. White? He's a very nice man, I met him just last week. He's expecting you to show up one of these days."
"I'd rather be at home."
"What made today any worse than others?"
Elena ruffled Seth's hair and bit her lip. "A butterfly," she answered.
"A butterfly?" Aunt Jane repeated, hanging her head a little bit. Perhaps her sympathy was all dried up.
Or perhaps you don't deserve sympathy just for hitting a butterfly with your car.
(Oh, also, I must mention that Seth has been prattling on for attention in the background of this entire conversation. His commentary is not stimulating enough to put down on paper and, since the others are ignoring him, we might as well ignore him as well.)
By the way, Lemony, this - what you're doing here - is the equivalent of a character in a movie or TV show stopping what they're doing and yelling "HELLO AUDIENCE". Just keep that in mind.
Maintaining it was such a chore. She loathed talking on the phone and staying up late was always the bane of her existence. The little girl in Elena was enchanted by fairy tale and Disney romances, but the cynical adult in her just said, "Pfft."
Hello, gender stereotype.
Elena laughed at the prospect. She wasn't exactly movie star quality, certainly not someone who could be defined by her "beauty." And, she wasn't exactly one hundred percent chaste, either. (Don't look at her with those judgmental eyes; it was Harrison's birthday, it was only fair.) Why should anyone look upon her and dub her a sufficient replacement for one commonly known as a "Chaste Beauty"?
Ah, not really. As I recall, you said you didn't love him. So why... gargh, I can't expect any sense with this character.
Then Elena reminded herself that she was once again further contemplating the insane dream. She decidedly hugged her pillow and threw herself down on the mattress (Seth might have been in the doorway, continuing his annoying streak, but he was ignored) even though the amount of sleeping she had done today was already utterly disproportionate to the amount of awake time.
Oh weird dreams...
Surely you have a LITTLE BIT of Genre Savviness? I mean, realistically real dream that you remember even though you never remember yours? Maybe... maybe just a little suspicion? Please?
