1st 5 Pages October Workshop - Milton Rev 1

Name: Michelle B. Milton
Genre: Young Adult Gothic Dystopian
Title: Trigger Warning

<i>Killdeer, Saskatchewan<i/>

<i>8:00PM<i/>

I was often visited by Leo Hart, even long after his funeral.

It was the last day before exams, and according to the clock on my cell Leo had been dead for 11 years, 344 days, 4 minutes.

A thin layer of mist had sunk down, and the last light of the sun filtered through the trunks of long dead quaking aspens, boxing in my birthday party. I stood by the lake, shivering and feeling sorry for myself. Micah said this would be ‘a year of firsts’; I had suffered enough firsts already; first broken bone, first F on a test, first dead body, and worse, first heartbreak.
Out of the corner of my eye, cherubic Leo lay on the water’s edge. Red-gold sunlight flickered on his brown arms, like I was looking at him through a slatted door.

Then the park was gone; there was only Leo and the green kitchen. His arms turned thick with blood which streamed from two cavities in his chest. He turned his head towards me and opened his mouth in silent question, his every breath a loud gurgle. He started crawling towards me, leaving a slow bloody trail on the checkered tile under him. I didn’t take my eyes off him, my heart pounding. He had never reached me before; but this time he might.
As he struggled closer, the air grew cold. I watched as his hands moved from olive to lime tile as he pushed himself towards me. I didn’t move, except when risking small,

controlled,

breaths.

“Hey!”

The icy air jerked back. The green kitchen turned to pebbles and rotted park. Leo was gone; there was nothing but the disturbed water over my shoulder, and the empty bank on the other side of Copper Lake Park. I rubbed the goosebumps on my arms.

“I’m talking to you, Brooke. I’m starting to think you really are just my lame cousin.”

Beside me, Micah squinted in the dying light, clearly disappointed. He’d mastered the art of the dishevelled-but-not mess. Paired with the distressed jeans and the acoustic at his feet, Micah fit the part of working class Romeo perfectly, though he’d never worked a day in his life. In this light, his skin practically glowed, a look I certainly didn’t inherit from the family.
Back when we were five, Micah was inseparable from Leo, even more than I was. I never had the courage to ask him if he ever saw Leo too.

Micah sat on a nearby log.

“Come here,” he said, and I joined him. “Look around! I delivered. This will be the best party of the year; just make sure people remember it’s yours, not mine. Do something interesting.”

He swept his arm theatrically towards the party. My terror was replaced with shame.
Last week I’d begged him to help me out, and in exchange, I ghost wrote the now infamous A grade essay ‘Breaking the Final Chains of British Rule: Pharmakon’s Emancipation of Canada’. I had wanted this party that bad.

And Micah did deliver. The speakers on the beach were finally pumping out music from the deep archives. Illegal bonfires were erupting all over the lakeside. Ten cases of soda, twenty cases of non-alcoholic champagne, seven cases of non-alcoholic beer… and the opportunity to get Riichi Cole alone!

This party was secret, exclusive, and well worth the risk of terrorist attacks. And as for the authorities, any academy classmates who blabbed would be discarded from Micah’s social life.

But despite all this, I just wasn’t in the mood. And not just because Leo was forcing me into rigged games of red light green light: I’d recently learned that perfect, kissable Columbina Adams didn’t want me around if I didn’t put out. Nothing about our relationship was right. I ended things; then she stopped coming to school.

Micah’s ‘can do’ attitude fizzled out as we sat in silence. Maybe Columbina was right: I was impossible to please.

“I need to say something.” Micah rubbed both his hands on his face. “Things aren’t good between Bean and me. It’s our three-year anniversary–  I haven’t heard from her in two days– has she said anything to you?”

My eyes watered; Micah had zero clue that Columbina– ‘Bean’– was my first everything.
I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and texted Riichi, casually wiping the edges of my eyes:

<i>*Are you here yet? *<i/>

Between Leo and Columbina, the Chairman should change my name to Waterworks.

“You too? Let’s just enjoy your party, okay?” Micah said, punching my shoulder gently.

“I don’t know. Tonight’s sucking pretty hard: you promised no supervision.” I forced a smile.

Executioner Hart sat in the dark just past the furthest bonfire, illuminated by the light of her cellphone. She was a thin blonde, twenty-three years old, in a grey skirt suit that made her look boring and old. The permanent scowl she'd inherited from the Chairman was an excellent, albeit off-putting poker face, though tonight’s expression might be genuine. She wasn’t even bothering to keep an eye on us, but the police stationed around the park certainly were.

Micah rolled his eyes; “I’m not the one who told Riichi I outsourced my assignment. I bet you he’s the one who told your granny-”

“The Chairman,” I corrected, hoping that wasn’t the case. Riichi was the only person who enjoyed my company outside Micah. Riichi was cute too, and that didn’t hurt.

“Whatever- the police knew where to find us. Riichi’s a rat: he’s dead to me.”

Text Message from: RIICHI COLE

<i>*On the dock. What’s up? If its about Micah, you know how serious I am about being Valedictorian. There can only be one; hashtag sorry. *<i/>

Micah put his hands on my shoulders as he normally did when he was going to impart some piece of useless wisdom.

“Listen,” he said in an undertone, “there’s a blind spot in their surveillance at the shed. Have fun tonight. Please.”

“Ok,” I said. Micah gave me an over-enthusiastic high-five.

I quickly spotted Riichi skipping rocks on the surface of the lake. Making out with him was worth Micah’s temporary disownment. I replied:

<i>*There’s a shed on the other side of the lake. Meet me there ASAP. *<i/>

“Yeah virgin, go to the kissing shed with someone gross so you have a chance.”

It was the first time we’d heard her voice in days, and it sounded off.
Columbina stood in front of us, arms crossed over a black sequined party dress, with a smoke and ash eye shadow that left me uncomfortably aware of her hateful eyes. Her lips were, as usual, glossed and candy apple red. She was wearing black! She always wore bright colours; she said dark colours were only to be worn at funerals.

“Bean!” Micah said, getting up. “I was getting worried!”

“Don’t touch me,” Columbina pushed him away when he tried hugging her; “who were you texting?”

“I’m glad you made it.” I evaded, hopeful I could smooth things over.

“No you’re not,” she said sharply. She then gave poor Micah a slow passionate kiss, glancing up to make sure I was looking.

I really hated her.

Text Message from: RIICHI COLE

<i>*I’ll be there. *<i/>

I was officially uncomfortable. I stood up, anxious to leave.

“I’m going to take a walk. You’re not invited.”

“We’ll be here.” Micah said, lowering his mouth to Columbina’s again. She avoided him, looking back at the dock.

Eat shit, Columbina Adams.