Ka§eY (rollercoaster96) wrote in paperthin_wings,

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WOW! look at all the members!!!

so I posted a story here already... well this is the "uncut plus some" version I'm handing in for an English project... the cut version was for writer's craft. (yeah... I know... too lazy to write ANOTHER story.)


True Callings

by Kasey Gregorashuk


It was as if a thunder storm was occuring in my head. Thunder rolling from the back of my head to

in between my eyes. Lightning flashing from temple to temple, and all I wanted to do was lay there in the

dark of my room and be alone with my storm, hoping it would eventually fade away. Storms like these dont

leave rainbows when they're over, they leave my mother nagging at me for being lazy. I layed there

breathing, staring at my stucko'd ceiling, wondering who the hell came up with the idea of that shit anyway

when the thunder started again, so I thought.

BANG BANG BANG... that wasn't in my head, that was someone banging on my bedroom door.

Before I had a chance to get pissy that someone was disturbing me while I hid in the darkness, I heard my

sister outside my door.

"Dinner's ready Astrid" the angelic voice called to me on the other side on the particle board door

that had a hole in it from my fist. I couldn't get mad at her, it wasn't her fault my head was throbbing. My

inability to get angry at my sister was probably why she was sent as the messanger. Whatever, a girl's gotta eat.

So I rolled out of the bed and stood up, apparently too fast because my head spun which didn't

help the head ache at all. After I staggered over to my door like a drunk person with one leg shorter than the

other, I opened my door to find my sister waiting there for me. I don't need a 8 year old escort to go down

to dinner. It's not like she'll be able to catch me if I fall down the stairs. My sister was like a mini-me, when

it came to looks anyways. We were both taller than the rest of the kids our age. Even then at 16 I was taller

than the few female friends I had. We both had the big lemon-shaped, deep emerald eyes that belonged to

our mother. She had his nose though. So we didn't look exactly the same, nothing a little cosmetic surgery

and hair dye wont fix. I preferred my extremely unnatural green hair though. My mom and step-dad hated

it (which is why I did it obvisouly). My sister's brown hair was my step-dad's. Dark chesnut with highlights

that shimmer in the summer sun. It was the one thing I hated about my sister- her father.

The light in the hall was blinding compared to the lack of light in my room. I squinted and told my

sister to lead on. Needless to say, as soon as I safely got downstairs to the kitchen the nagging started.

"Astrid you need to set a better example for Emily! Laying around in your room for hours. People

are going to start thinking you're a hermit," she actually stopped to take a breathe, I was impressed. "It's the

middle of October and you're pale as a ghost. Most teenagers still have tans from the summer! The black

clothing doesn't help your complexion either. My god the brightest thing on you is your goddamn hair..."

This is about where I tuned her out. I'd bet my left arm that it ended with "why can't I have a normal

teenager?". News flash mommy dearest, there's no such thing as a normal teenager! I just walked past my

[loving] mother into the living room to take my spot in front of the tv.

My family doesnt eat like civilized families, we sit at flimsy old "wooden" tv trays so we can stuff

our faces and fry our brain cells with mindless prime time sitcoms all at once. Oh joy. I entered the living

room to find my step-father sitting in his digusting excuse for an arm chair drinking a beer and laughing at

some unintelligent joke on whatever show he was watching. Judging by the automated laughter coming

from the tv I was betting on a lame prime time comedy. I sighed and turned back into the kitchen and headed

towards the bathroom. My head was pounding and despite my dislike for medicine I reached for the asprin.

That was a bad idea.

"What do you need those for?" my mother started. "It's not like you have any stress, you're just a

teenager. You don't have to deal with the crap that goes on in this house day in and day out..." Right mom,

it's not like you stress me out or anything. My life is just peachy. Stupid bitch. I ignored her and swallowed

those white circles of compressed chemicals that would stop the storm. Once again, that was a bad idea.

"Answer me Astrid! Why the fuck are you taking asprin?" she raised her voice more than her usual yell for

that. It didn't help the head ache.

"I've got a fucking headache ok?"I really should learn to watch my mouth. To add to the already

throbbing head ache, I ended up with a red face and tears running down my cheek.

I didn't know my mother could move that fast. She had been in the kitchen, a fair distance from the

bathroom but with a good view of it. It all happened in a blur. I don't think I got 'ing headache' out and she

had made her way to the bathroom, lifted her closed hand and made contact with the right side of my face.

"You watch your fucking mouth you mouthy little bitch." Speak for yourself. It's something you

get used to. Pain eventually stops hurting. It becomes a release. The punch in the face didn't hurt as much

as the constant feeling of hatred I got from my mother.

She had been beautiful. I had seen pictures of her when she was young, before she had me. She

could have been a model or an actress. She was tall and thin, with beautiful blonde hair. Blonde hair that I

possessed but didn't appreciate and covered with bright green. Another thing she hated me for. My mother

had the most deep emerald coloured eyes. A green which has faded to some disturbed shade of grey. She

was still tall and thin, but now she was drawn out, tired looking. She looked old but wasn't. Her hair had

faded in some spots from golden blonde to almost white. My mother was only 35. To her that was old. She

had been a young mother with me, eighteen years old with a beautiful future ahead of her. She can't blame

my father for her now terrible life because he left her as soon as he found out she was pregnant, so she

blames me. Her mother wouldnt let her get rid of me, give me up for adoption like some pathetic animal. If my

grandmother was still alive I'm sure my mother would hate her. Actually, she resents her still. My mother

didn't even go to my grandmother's funeral. I went alone, at the age of twelve; alone with family members I

had never known because my mother refused to associate with them. She was too bitter for her own good.

As soon as my mother walked away from me, leaving me in pain, crying in the bathroom, a tension

left the air. There was always tension when my mother and I were in the same room. I went back up to my

room. It was really the only place my mother wouldn't enter. It was my sanctuary when I was in her house. I

couldn't even call it home, it was just a shelter from the rain. One day I'll just run away and she'll never find

me and she'll never be able to touch me again. I turned the light on when I entered my room. It was a small

room, very similar to a jail cell. Who knew a jail cell could be so comforting. It was my dark purple sanctuary.

My walls had been painted dark purple, by my choice with my money, so even with the lights on it would

be dark.

I was an artist at heart. Paints,brushes and empty and full canvises were scattered about. Paris is

calling to me. I starred at the picture I was currently working on. The bright blue of the sky startled me a

little. It was my dream captured in paint. A scene in Paris, a girl sitting at a cafe just watching the people

around her. A genuine smile on her face.

I walked over to the mirror on my wall. It was one of those full length mirrors, I hated it because it

showed all of me. I had pictures of my friends taped up all around the edge of it though. Looking into my

mirror was like being with my friends in spirit. We were there, together. They were my family, the only

people I could say I loved, except for my half-sister.

I started crying when I saw my reflection. The beginning of a black eye had started to develop. My

friends wont be suprised. That wasn't the first black eye I had come to school with after a weekend at home.

It was the thought of my teachers and other students that made me cry. I was so tired of being called into

guidance. I was tired of people asking me if I was ok. I'm not ok, I will never be ok. I never told anyone but

those closest to me about my home life.

I looked at my clock and wiped away my tears. It was 9 o'clock. Not only did we not eat like

civilized humans, we ate at the dumbest hours. They ate. It wasnt often I actually made it to a meal. I decided

it wasn't worth staying awake. I took one more glance in the mirror and noticed the mascara and eyeliner

cascaded all over my face from the tears. Oh well.I undid my second-hand jeans, pulled them down around

my feet and kicked them into the general direction of my laundry basket. They hit the floor. I crawled into my

single bed and covered up with my black comforter and shut my eyes. Maybe tomorrow someone will find

me and take me away from this hell hole.


I woke up to the sound of my alarm clock beeping at me around 7am. I said a few choice words and

rolled out of bed and slammed my fist into my alarm clock. That hurt me more than my alarm clock. I had half

an hour to get ready for school, because it took me about half an hour to get to school. I could take the bus

every morning with the rest of the maggots from my school, but to avoid verbal harrassment I walked.

I rummaged through the clothes on my floor and chose a less wrinkled pair of black jeans. As I

slipped them on I noticed myself in the mirror. My eyes were puffy and red from crying before I went to bed.

They were kind of burning too. I kind of resembled road kill, with my raccoon eyes from the make-up the

day before. I turned away from my mirror in search of a clean shirt. I found my Ramones band tee in the

bottom of my drawer and slipped that on and proceeded to the bathroom downstairs.

My reflection wasn't any better in the mirror down there. I grabbed a clean wash cloth and removed

the excess make-up, only to reapply fresh black eyeliner, hott pink eyeshadow and black mascara. The make-

up didn't hide the puffiness, it just helped hide my general dislike for my face. I actually liked the way my

bed head looked so I just brushed my teeth and headed for the door. Luckily enough my mother was still

asleep that morning.

I pulled on my denim jacket, covered with band patches. The weather was decent, being October

and all, so that was all I needed. I tripped over the pile of shoes at the front door. Considering there's only

4 people in this house, that's alot of shoes. I kicked several pairs of shoes out of the way in search for my

hot pink and black Chuck Taylors.

I opened the door to a brisk breeze and the early morning sun. Autumn was my favourite time of

year. Everything slowly dying. Leaves changing colour like an old person's skin as they reached the ages

nearing death. Drying up and falling off the trees and blowing away in the wind. I sighed. If only I could

just blow away with the breeze and never have to come back. I stepped off my porch and walked down the

leaf covered cement path to the road leading to my school.

The walk to school was almost silent. The occasional crunch of leaves under foot and my gentle

footsteps were the only noises I could hear. All the other kids were sitting at home, eating a well-balanced

breakfast with mommy and daddy before getting on the big yellow school bus to take their lazy asses to

school. I caught myself wishing for a car to drive by. Just so I wouldn't feel so lonely. Maybe I should walk

in the middle of the road. It was then that the silence of my walk was broken. I heard my name being called

from behind me. My heart stopped momentarily. I stopped walking and listened again before turning

around. It was a guy's voice. Steve! I turned on my heel to find my best friend Steve running towards me.

As usual he didn't have a backpack, but neither did I. We didn't do homework. He got his work

done in class, I just didn't do mine. Instead of a back pack he carried his skateboard in hand so he could run

at me. He was such a beautiful person, to me at least. He was just an inch taller than me. His hair was kind of

shaggy and a natural dirty blonde. He had piercing blue eyes, that when we got into deep conversations I

found myself getting lost in.

"Why do you always walk to school alone?" He asked me when he had caught up.

"Why do you always run to catch up with me?" I teased.

"Because I hate seeing you alone." It was an awkward half a second before I replied. For some

reason things had been changing between us. We had been friends forever. We grew up together. He knew

more about me than I probably knew about myself. He knew why I had a black eye and why I looked puffy

behind the make-up.

"If you didn't run to catch up with me you wouldn't see me, now would you?" Whoa did I just flirt

with him?

Our friendship was the kind of friendship you only saw in movies. Girl grows up in house from

birth. Boy moves in to house nextdoor when girl is 8 years old. Boy sees girl playing outside. Girl sees boy

watching her and asks him to play house with her. Boy and girl become best friends and go through puberty

together. Boy meets other girls and falls in "love" a million times. Girl secretly loves boy. Boy secretly loves

girl. Neither want to admit it. It made me laugh to think about. Apparently I laughed out loud at that moment

because he asked me what was so funny.

"Nothing, let's just go to school".

The silence of my walk disappeared as Steve and I talked all the way to school. We talked about

everything. He asked me about the black eye and I told him what happened.

"You know you could live with me. My parents wouldn't mind." He offered, probably for the

millionth time.

"Running away to nextdoor really won't help me at all. It would probably make things worse." I

replied, probably for the millionth time. "and besides, it doesn't hurt."

"That's not the point." he looked at me earnestly. I could have cried right there, but my face was

having enough problems that morning.

"Why do you care so much?" I said, the tears welling up in my eyes. "Noone else does."

"I know you're worth it."He said softly, looking into my eyes. We had stopped walking. He reached

for my hands. "You're the most beautiful person I know." I couldn't help but cry when he said that. I had

seen my reflection in the mirror, I was far from beautiful.

"No I'm not." I sniffled. "Look at me, I'm a mess. My face is now blotchy from crying, I've got puffy

eyes from crying yet again. Not to mention the lovely black eye." I shook my head and began to walk away.

I stubbornly couldn't believe that someone, even Steve, could care so much about me. He grabbed my hand

and pulled me back to him.

"Yes you are Astrid. You've been through so much and it's just made you stonger." The look on

his face was one I hadn't seen before. It was intense and a faint shade of red. He was frowning but looked

extremely passionate about what he was saying to me. "You are an amazing artist. You're going to go places

with your art." Paris. "Astrid..." He stopped suddenly. It was almost as if what he wanted to say was stuck

in his throat.

"Steve..." I said carefully. I could feel my heart starting to race. Something was happening there.

That day, walking to school, things changed with the two of us. He was my best friend, but I knew there

was more there.

"Astrid," he started. Oh my God! What's happening here? "I..." I looked away from him, unable to

look him in the face because I was about to break down again.

He reached his hand out towards my face and gently move my face to look at him. My heart was in

my throat. I felt as though I was going to be sick. Steve's face had gone extremely red but looking into his

eyes I knew he was extremely calm. He leaned in close to me. I closed my eyes and felt his soft lips on mine.

Holy fuck! I felt as though I was flying. I was no longer in my body. It was as though I was an angel looking

down on us. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. This must be what cupid sees. I put my hand at

the nape of his neck and held him close. I never wanted to let go of him. Unfortunately, we had to come up

for air.

"Whoa," I stuttered.

"I'm sorry," he started. "I just couldn't find the words to tell you how I felt."

"Do I look like I'm complaining?" I said and started to laugh. I had never felt so happy. So this is

happiness. This is love isn't it? This is what it feels like to have someone love you. I threw my arms around

him. We stayed like that for a long time. When we finally pulled ourselves apart he brought me by the hand

to the curb and sat down. He had gone from looking so intense to looking sad. Something was on his mind.

"Steve, what's wrong?"

"I want you to be happy Astrid."

"Are you kidding me? This is the happiest I've been in 16 years!"

"More than that. You'll never really be happy here." Just then Steve reached into his pocket and

pulled out an envelope.

"What's that?" I asked, confused.

"Plane tickets."

My heart, which had just settled down, began to beat out of my chest again. What is he doing?

"Plane tickets?" I looked at him with one eyebrow raised. "Steve, what are you planning? What is


"Paris Astrid." I started to tear up again. To my suprise I wasn't tired of crying. The last 20 minutes

had been the happiest tears I had ever experienced. "I'm taking you to Paris Astrid. I talked to my parents

already. They agree that you need to get away and they know how I feel about you. They helped me save

up enough money to get us there and survive for awhile." He began to ramble on about how his parents had

gotten us an apartment in downtown Paris. Near a cafe! I felt as though I was drunk. I was ODing on

happiness. If I had died right then, I would have died a happy woman.

We finally decided instead of sitting on the curb all day that we'd skip school and go back to his

house. His parents were always so nice to me. Then again, they were the kind of adults that as soon as their

son moved out they would put plastic over the furniture. But they were really nice people, always looking

out for their friends and family. I was family. It made me smile thinking about how kind some people can be.

Steve and I walked up the front path. Their house looked like every other house on the block. The

only difference between their house and mine was they had a beautiful garden. Our front lawn was covered

in weeds and there wasn't the slightest bit of colour. I took in a deep breathe, enjoying the scents of the last

of autumn's flowers.

"Mom? Dad?" Steve called when we walked in. "Astrid's here."

His mom came in from the backyard.

"Hello dear! How are you?" She said with a motherly tone, hugging me so tight I almost couldn't


"Better now." I said smiling. "I can't believe you're sending me and Steve to Paris. Aren't you going

to be worried about him?"

"Oh hun, of course we'll be worried." she had ahold of my shoulders. I felt safe. "We're not stupid

dear, we aren't just sending you two over there hoping you'll get along fine by yourself, we have family that

lives over there."She was smiling at me the way a mother should. " My sister moved over there three years

ago. You two will be staying with her for the summer."

My heart sank.

"Oh...just the summer?"

"Oh well yes dear," she cocked her head to the side, almost confused. "You and Steve will leave at

the end of the school year. As soon as exams are over."

"What about my mother? How am I supposed to tell her?" I was scared. I was hoping I could just


"Leave her to me Astrid." she had a glint in her eyes when she looked at me. It gave me hope. Why

couldn't I have had a mother like this? "I'll talk to her after Christmas. I don't want things to get bad for you

at Christmas." She hugged me again and told Steve and I to get to school.

The leaves began to disappear and the snow came. Every day that passed as Christmas got closer

made my heart beat faster. I couldn't look at my mother. I avoided her more than ever. I knew as soon as

Steve's mom talked to her it was going to be living hell for me. It was going to be a long six months, but I

knew it would be worth it.

To my suprise, my mother wasn't angry with me once I confronted her about going. Steve's mother

had apparently explained that she was sending Steve to Paris for the summer to visit his aunt and she didn't

want him to go alone. She said that she knew she could trust me to go with him, that we'd look out for

each other. Thank you, thank you, thank you! My mother bought it, thankfully it wasn't a complete lie. She

actually seemed sad that I wanted to go so far away. Maybe this will be good for both of us. Maybe we'll

both appreciate each other more if we're thousands of miles apart for two months.

Once I knew my mother was ok with the idea of me going to Paris, the school year seemed to fly by.

Before I knew it, it was June and Steve and I were getting ready for exams. Neither one of us were worried.

We both knew pretty much all we had to, with or without doing homework.

"So..." Steve started, after leaving our English class after our exam. "How do you think you did?"

"Good enough to go to Paris!" I giggled. I could hardly wait, and it was getting harder and harder

to hide my excitement. "Steve, won't it be great? The two of us, sitting in a little cafe, drinking french coffee

and eating european pastries?" I laughed and hugged him.

He smiled at me and said, "I love you so much, Astrid, we could go to Cambodia and it would still

be great!" I squeeled like the girl that I am and kissed him in the middle of the hall. We walked home

together. English was our last exam of the year. Three school years down, one too go. First stop...PARIS!

The next three days were spent in my room packing. My mother amazed me by buying me new paints and a couple new brushes.

"I, uh, figured you might need these." She said, turning to rush out of my room.

"Thank you." She stopped suddenly and turned around and looked at me. I could have sworn she

was about to cry. She just looked at me, with her sad eyes, and then went back down stairs to tend to Emily.


When Steve's mom came to pick me up to take me to the airport, my mom answered the door. I was

just coming down the stairs and heard our mothers talking.

"You're sure she'll be ok over there?" That was my mother's voice. She's concerned? I stayed

where I was momentarily. I wanted to hear what my mother had to say.

"Of course I'm sure." Steve's mom. "Astrid is a good girl, her and Steve will be just fine. My sister

is over there, she'll take good care of them. No need to worry."

"I'm her mother. How can I not worry?" Whoa! As I sat there on the stairs I began to cry. All that

time I thought my mother didn't care about me. In that moment I was proved wrong. I knew then, that Paris

may be calling me in that moment, but my mother will always be there, calling me to come home. This is

home. I'll be back.

I dried my eyes, stopping in the bathroom to check my face, and went to the front door. Steve's

mom looked at me and smiled.

"Ready to go, Astrid?"

"Yeah, I'm ready." I looked at my mom and smiled weakly. "Just one more thing I have to do before

I leave." I walked to my mother and dropped my suitcase on the floor beside her. She looked at me,

confused. I said goodbye and threw my arms around her. I could feel the stuttering of her body. She was


I heard her whisper, "I'm sorry, Astrid. Come home to me." I began to cry again. God, I do this


"Don't worry, Mom, I'll be back. We'll fix this. Tell Emily I said goodbye." I whispered back to her.

"I, love you."

We seperated and I looked at Steve's mom. She nodded at me, smiled and reached for my bag.

"I'll get that." My mom sniffled. "It's the least I can do." I couldn't help but smile. Things are going

to be ok.

My mom waved us off. Steve held my hand the entire way to the airport. I like the way this feels.

Love, it's a good feeling. I love Steve, he loves me. I love my mom. She really does love me too. I sighed and

felt Steve squeeze my hand a little tighter.

"Things are going to be great, Astrid."

"I know." I looked him in the eyes and smiled. "I really do."

When we got to the airport his mom handed us our tickets, gave us both hugs and kissed Steve on the forehead.

"I'm going to miss you two. Behave yourselves. Have fun. Call me, and I'll see you in August." She

laughed and hugged us both again then shooed us off towards the gate for the plane.

I sat on the plane with my head on Steve's shoulder the entire flight. He held my hand until he fell

asleep and his grip loosened. I was thousands of feet in the air and I had never felt so safe and so happy. It

didn't seem long when I heard the pilot say we were approaching the airport. I poked Steve in the side and

he sat up.

"Are we there yet?"

I laughed, "Yes, yes we are." He looked at me and smiled.

"You're going to love my aunt."

"I don't know how much of this 'love' stuff I can take." We both laughed. Holding hands we exited

the plane and walked into the sunlight of the airport. The smell of new beginnings was in the air, or was it jet

fuel? Either way, the warm and fuzzy feeling inside me wasn't about to fade away. It was the beginning of my

life. That day, in the Paris International Airport, Astrid Dawn Ollson was reborn. Life will never be the same

again. I looked at my surroundings and smiled, a genuine smile.


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