Chapter Twelve
Visions
Paivi was able to relax at Lolly’s Ice Cream Shoppe. It all just felt so comfortable. Jason and Mr. Anderson were discussing baseball over their hot fudge sundaes. Paivi and Michaela were reminiscing about things that Torsten had done when he was younger. Mrs. Anderson and Aimee were laughing along with the girls. Torsten could only shake his head in embarrassment, and sink lower into his seat.
“And remember,” howled Michaela, “when we were at Taco Caliente that one time? We were waiting for our food and Torsten was gone. All of a sudden we heard this mooing sound. We turned around and there was Torsten, hiding in the plants next to the counter, mooing like a cow!”
She pretended like she was separating some invisible plants and stuck her head through.
“MOOOO!”
Paivi was laughing so hard she started choking on her hot fudge brownie sundae. After she was able to swallow again, the girls collapsed into laughter. They were laughing so hard that they were crying, tears streaming down their faces.
“Dude, I was like nine years old,” protested Torsten meekly.
They returned home around eleven, after dropping everyone off at their homes. Paivi said goodnight to her parents and Torsten and headed up to her room. She had to pretend she was going to bed, but she felt it would be a long time before she got any sleep.
She shut her door and lit a candle, placing it on her desk. She turned out the light and could hear everyone else in settling into their rooms for the night. She sat on her bed, folded her long legs Indian-style and rested her hands on her knees. She remembered seeing people meditate this way in a movie.
She took a few deep breaths, focusing her gaze on the candle.
Score of the Chicago-Green Bay game, she chanted over and over in her mind. She tried to picture people playing football, and even Soldier Field itself, which she’d only ever seen on television. After about twenty minutes of watching the candlelight dance on the wall and peeking at the glowing numbers on her alarm clock, she gave up. Paivi blew out the candle in a huff and angrily got into bed, stuffed animals flying right and left.
What was she going to do? Maybe she’d have to break down and talk to her parents. Maybe they knew how to control this and just kept it from her, or maybe they could get the score for her.
What was she thinking, though? If she told her parents, they would know Christian was blackmailing her. What would they do? March into school and talk to the principal? Worse yet, what would Christian do?
It was all too much. She grabbed Mr. Teddy Bear off the floor where she had thrown him, squeezing him tight. A few hot, angry tears rolled down her cheek, wetting her pillow.
When she opened her eyes, she was sitting in her family room. The television was on, showing the last play of a football game between the Chicago Bears and the Green Bay Packers. Mr. Anderson was sitting on the edge of the couch and Torsten was on his knees in front of the screen. Both teams were at the line of scrimmage with two minutes left on the clock. Green Bay had the ball and the score was tied.
“How are they going to win this game?” shouted Paivi. “Tor, move your big fat head. I can’t see.”
She threw a pillow at him.
“They HAVE to win!” screamed Torsten. “We can’t lose to those idiots!”
“Shhhhhh!” Mr. Anderson’s gaze was glued to the screen as he hushed them.
Green Bay ran the ball down the field, picking up a few yards. On the next play, the Green Bay quarterback threw the ball and it sailed through the air towards a player in green and white. Out of nowhere a member of the Bears jumped into the picture. He snatched the ball out of the air, right in front of the ball’s intended target and sprinted down to the opposite end of the field.
“Go, go, go!” they all screamed.
Mr. Anderson jumped off the couch, knocking a bowl off the table, sending popcorn cascading across the floor.
Chicago’s number 23 wove in and out of the players on the field, zigging and zagging. He ran into the end zone and the referees signaled a touchdown.
“Yeah!” they all screamed, Paivi and Torsten jumped up and down, exchanging high-fives.
“Yahoo!” shouted Mr. Anderson, throwing his blue and orange Bears cap in the air.
An extra point was kicked, leading to more cheering as the clock ran out. Paivi looked at the screen, noticing the score of 21-14.
Paivi sat back down on the couch and closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, her family room was gone. She could feel the ground below her feet. She looked around, completely unfamiliar with her surroundings. The ground was hard and dusty; there was no grass to be seen. In the distance, she could see high, rocky peaks. In front of her was row after row of large, metal buildings, the same dusty brown color as the ground.
The sun was high in the sky, the air hot. There was not a soul to be seen. Paivi heard the sound of an engine in the distance. Someone was coming. She didn’t think she should be there. Everything felt wrong. She panicked and tried to move from where she was, looking for a place to hide. Her feet wouldn’t budge — they were glued to the spot.
Oh god, please don’t let them see me, she thought, her heart beginning to race.
To the right was a large metal fence, topped with razor wire that glinted like diamonds in the hot sun. Paivi could see four trucks in the distance. Two trucks led what appeared to be a large group people, and two followed behind. As they got closer, Paivi could see that there were men in the back of each truck, wearing some kind of uniform. They pointed large guns at the group.
The trucks entered through a gate, which moved aside as the truck approached. They drove right past Paivi, taking no notice of her. The men wore sand colored clothing and floppy hats, which shielded their heads and faces from the blistering sun. Behind the two trucks came the column of people. Paivi had to look closely to see that they were all women. It was hard to tell at first. She couldn’t decide if their clothes were meant to be brown or were so on account of all the dust.
The women were very thin and most were either browned or reddened from the harsh sun. They looked like so many bundles of rags held up by sticks. None of the women turned to look at Paivi, but she could see that while all of their faces were different, they were all frighteningly the same. The eyes were dull and sunken — their lips were dried and shriveled, like plants that hadn’t been watered in ages. These women had given up hope long ago.
As they passed by Paivi, moving mechanically like so many zombies, a woman turned, staring directly at her. Her empty eyes burned into Paivi, and she could feel a scream stuck in her throat. She knew this sunken miserable shell of a person.
It was her mother.