Jack the Green Slider [v2]

Jack the Green Slider

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Blessed silence. Naomi had nine more minutes to doze. Who knew what had possessed her to use that damn submarine klaxon for an alarm clock....ZZZZZ....

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"ALL RIGHT ALREADY."

A quick shower, and she was more awake. She shuffled into the tiny kitchen and, like a balletic zombie, dumped water in the kettle and turned it on, pitched yesterday's grounds in the trash, grabbed a filter, scooped coffee in, plunked it on her favorite cup, and shambled back to the living room to check mail and IRC.

A sharp pain lanced through the left side of her head. Wincing, she looked up and saw a pale shimmering greenish outline around everything in the room, brighter on the right. What the hell? This was like what she'd heard about migraines, but she'd never had one in her life. The pain faded fast, and she shrugged it off. Caffeine withdrawal, maybe; the kettle had switched off, so she got up to go pour that cup. But the cup was right here, with dregs in the bottom. She glanced at the laptop's clock and gasped. Where the hell had forty-five minutes gone?

Dammit! She was already late for school. She grabbed a granola bar and headed out the door.

With some ancient Bowie track on the iPod and the granola bar clamped in her teeth, she slammed the SUV into reverse.

WHUMP.

"Oh hell, what did I hit?"

She jumped out to see. Nothing. Wait—there was a guy in a heap on the sidewalk across the street. What? Across the street? She couldn't have hit him that hard!

She darted over.  "Omigodi'msosorryareyouokay?"

He groaned, flexed his limbs, patted himself here and there, and then shrugged. He was a small guy, in a sleeveless T-shirt and jeans, and barefoot. Shrimpy, but kind of cute, she thought. He had bushy dark blue-green hair, and looked up at her with the most vividly green eyes she'd ever seen. Had to be contacts.

"Did I really knock you all the way across the street?"

"Um. Yeah, but I, uh, sort of slide." He stood up. Shrimpy was the word; he came up to her chin, and she was no giant. "Watch this." He took a sort of lunging step and seemed to push off with the other foot, and slid down the sidewalk about ten feet, like he was on rollerblades.

Her jaw dropped.

"I've always been able to do that. Don't ask me how it works."

"Wow." She managed to shut her mouth but it was a few seconds before she could form actual words. "Uh, I'm Naomi."

"Jack. Nice to meet you."

"Augh, I'm so sorry about that. I was late for school, I'm so sorry—" Stop babbling, girl! she told herself.

"Well, don't let me keep you. I'm okay, really." But he didn't really seem in a hurry to move off. Or slide off, or whatever.

"You know what? Forget school. I didn't finish the homework anyway. Lemme buy you a smoothie or something to make it up to you."

Yeah, he was definitely cute. And those incredible eyes...

***

A couple of smoothies, an hour people-watching at the mall ("Did you see that lady with the poodle?" "I know, I swear that was a dye job!"), a movie ("I didn't even know there was a Plastic Man I and II!" "Just wait till 'Mister Miracle' comes out next summer!" "Oooh, Big Barda on the big screen!"), an hour and a half and a ton of quarters at the little game arcade in the theater lobby, hot dogs and orange slushies, four hours at the ice rink ("That sliding thing you do looks so fun," she said; obviously he didn't need to rent skates); all very cornball stuff, but she hadn't had this much fun in a long time.

They found themselves at dusk parked along the ridge above the reservoir. The moon was just setting; it was a sliver above the hills, like slender bull horns, with a dim glow filling up the darkness between, and a brilliant star directly above. Without a word, they slid into the back seat, and he slid into her.

OK, he wasn't shrimpy all over.

***

"Ouch, I'm cramping up!" She stretched a leg as far as she could and massaged her calf. "You know what we should do now?"

"Hit a gym?"

"No, you idiot! I'll hit you!" And she suited deed to word. "I wanna go dancing."

"I'm game, but I wouldn't have any idea where."

"There's a new all-ages club I've wanted to check out. 'Le Vapide' or something."

He snickered. "You're making that up."

"No, really! It's from Latin or something—I think it's supposed to mean 'steamy'."

It was crowded and hot and more sweaty than steamy, and the music was indeed vapid, but Naomi and Jack had a great time. But then, they'd have had just as much fun with a boombox in a parking lot.

On the way out, she asked, "Do you have a place to stay?"

"No, I was just passing through, but then someone ran into me, and I haven't been able to get away."

She giggled. He'd been making her giggle all day.

"Well, if we're quiet, we could probably sneak in without waking my sister up."

***

As he came back to bed after a last bathroom trip, she realized they weren't contacts. Drifting off to sleep in his arms, she seemed to sink into a vibrantly rich green sea.

***

She swam up through thick soft blackness. There were quiet voices on either side, and a soft beeping, and a nasty smell: disinfectant with hints of urine and blood. She struggled to open her leaden eyelids, to see her mom, her sister, and a woman in scrubs.

Her mom squeaked, "Oh God, Naomi, you're okay! We were so worried! How are you feeling now? Any funny headaches, hallucinations, anything like that? They say they got it all out, honey, and they expect a full recovery. You'll need some chemo just in case, but don't worry, hon, we'll get through that."

With a huge grin, her kid sister held out a small jar. "Here, sis, check this out! Your brain's little passenger!"

With an arm that weighed fifty pounds, she reached up and took the jar. Inside was a little pinkish-greenish lump no bigger than a pea. As she tilted the jar, it slid from side to side.

Smiling, with eyes brimming, she whispered, "Nice to meet you, Jack."