talking.
“Gang, we have a new recruit.” He gestures to me. “Introduce yourself.”
“Um...I’m, uh, Molly,” I say as everybody turns to me. I curse myself for stumbling twice on a two word sentence. Everyone responds with their own greetings.
“The rest of you guys introduce yourself now.”
“Smaller Sally.”
“I’m Hannah,” the young woman to Smaller Sally’s right says. She has wavy brown hair and brown eyes.
“Matt.” Short brown hair and beard with thin rimmed glasses.
“I’m Kristina.” Long brown hair with extremely energetic eyes.
“Big Sal.”
“Nathan.”
“Rebekah, with a ‘K-A-H’. Survival specialist..” Golden-brown hair that reflects the sunlight. She’s wearing a leather jacket that looks several sizes too large. She speaks with a slight accent, especially on the consonants. Is it German? I’m not sure. Everybody in Hopetown spoke very similarly.
“I’m Emily. Fighting director.” She’s like a powder keg - short, but bursting with energy. Her hands are constantly moving.
“Nicholas.” His back seems to be bent from the weight of bearing too many problems.
“Anna.”
“Desmond.” Tall, with fiery hair. He reminds me of my mother, although I’m not sure exactly why.
“And I’m Mike, as you know.”
“Umm, nice to meet you all,” I say. Again, everyone responds, saying that it’s very nice to meet me as well. I struggle to imprint all of their faces on my memory, afraid that I’ll forget their names at an awkward time.
“Your training begins tomorrow,” Mike tells me. “Eat up.”
I nod bluntly and try not to scream.
I just joined the Rebellion.
I still can’t believe it. I’m afraid that I’m dreaming, that I’ll wake up and I’ll be back in Hopetown with the same life and the same problems I’ve always had, but this is real. Terrifyingly real. This is so much more real than Hopetown ever was, and I guess I’m not really sure how to feel about that.
I’ve always been afraid of reality, I realize now. Hopetown was a brutal piece of reality, but if there was one thing we did best there, it was wishing ourselves into another dimension. The drunks lay on the street and didn’t feel the cold, because they imagined a different life. I stared out into the horizon and wondered about what could have been. My mother told herself optimistic lies so often that she really started to believe them, even though it wrenched her heart out.
This place, this camp, this new home of mine, is real in a completely different way. There is no denying reality. There is only changing it.
I could try changing reality a bit. I’ve always wanted to, after all. I just didn’t really…
Hopetown was a different world that it might be worth it for me to forget. This is my life now. This is the choice that I made and I burned my bridges back into the past the moment I ran out of the gate to meet the snowmobiles.
I survey the camp some more. It’s beautiful. Even more beautiful than the ocean. The ocean has always been beautiful to me in an intimidating way; it was beautiful in a cold manner and not something I could love. Only revere. I believed in the ocean because it was the only thing left to believe in. It was too big for me to understand, and therefore, I could mold whatever cast I needed right onto it.
This place, however, with its spectacular view of the forest, mountain breezes, and smell of smoke and pine needles has a different feel. It’s not perfect, and its beauty lies in its imperfection. This is the type of place that I can grow into.
The ocean was my mind. This is my heart, a heart I’ve been missing my entire life. The ocean used to whisper to me that I was complete and didn’t need to fill the hollow spot in my chest. It whispered that it was natural and healthy, and that filling it would only force me to carry an extra weight. But this mountain, these forests, these smells, are preaching the opposite, and I find it harder to move on than
“Gang, we have a new recruit.” He gestures to me. “Introduce yourself.”
“Um...I’m, uh, Molly,” I say as everybody turns to me. I curse myself for stumbling twice on a two word sentence. Everyone responds with their own greetings.
“The rest of you guys introduce yourself now.”
“Smaller Sally.”
“I’m Hannah,” the young woman to Smaller Sally’s right says. She has wavy brown hair and brown eyes.
“Matt.” Short brown hair and beard with thin rimmed glasses.
“I’m Kristina.” Long brown hair with extremely energetic eyes.
“Big Sal.”
“Nathan.”
“Rebekah, with a ‘K-A-H’. Survival specialist..” Golden-brown hair that reflects the sunlight. She’s wearing a leather jacket that looks several sizes too large. She speaks with a slight accent, especially on the consonants. Is it German? I’m not sure. Everybody in Hopetown spoke very similarly.
“I’m Emily. Fighting director.” She’s like a powder keg - short, but bursting with energy. Her hands are constantly moving.
“Nicholas.” His back seems to be bent from the weight of bearing too many problems.
“Anna.”
“Desmond.” Tall, with fiery hair. He reminds me of my mother, although I’m not sure exactly why.
“And I’m Mike, as you know.”
“Umm, nice to meet you all,” I say. Again, everyone responds, saying that it’s very nice to meet me as well. I struggle to imprint all of their faces on my memory, afraid that I’ll forget their names at an awkward time.
“Your training begins tomorrow,” Mike tells me. “Eat up.”
I nod bluntly and try not to scream.
I just joined the Rebellion.
I still can’t believe it. I’m afraid that I’m dreaming, that I’ll wake up and I’ll be back in Hopetown with the same life and the same problems I’ve always had, but this is real. Terrifyingly real. This is so much more real than Hopetown ever was, and I guess I’m not really sure how to feel about that.
I’ve always been afraid of reality, I realize now. Hopetown was a brutal piece of reality, but if there was one thing we did best there, it was wishing ourselves into another dimension. The drunks lay on the street and didn’t feel the cold, because they imagined a different life. I stared out into the horizon and wondered about what could have been. My mother told herself optimistic lies so often that she really started to believe them, even though it wrenched her heart out.
This place, this camp, this new home of mine, is real in a completely different way. There is no denying reality. There is only changing it.
I could try changing reality a bit. I’ve always wanted to, after all. I just didn’t really…
Hopetown was a different world that it might be worth it for me to forget. This is my life now. This is the choice that I made and I burned my bridges back into the past the moment I ran out of the gate to meet the snowmobiles.
I survey the camp some more. It’s beautiful. Even more beautiful than the ocean. The ocean has always been beautiful to me in an intimidating way; it was beautiful in a cold manner and not something I could love. Only revere. I believed in the ocean because it was the only thing left to believe in. It was too big for me to understand, and therefore, I could mold whatever cast I needed right onto it.
This place, however, with its spectacular view of the forest, mountain breezes, and smell of smoke and pine needles has a different feel. It’s not perfect, and its beauty lies in its imperfection. This is the type of place that I can grow into.
The ocean was my mind. This is my heart, a heart I’ve been missing my entire life. The ocean used to whisper to me that I was complete and didn’t need to fill the hollow spot in my chest. It whispered that it was natural and healthy, and that filling it would only force me to carry an extra weight. But this mountain, these forests, these smells, are preaching the opposite, and I find it harder to move on than
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