Saint Joseph School

Amy lay huddled on the floor of the quad, moving her cheek gently against the stiff carpet feeling the rasp of it against her skin. She inhaled slowly, taking in the smells of coffee grounds and old dirt, a scent native to carpet. Her hand was still clasped over her elbow as she let her fingers explore the rough patches of skin for the hundredth time.

Earlier that day she had gotten into a scrap with a group of Hellions on the corner. Surely not the first time she had fought with them but this time she had been caught unaware. She was on her way back to campus from picking up her uniform at the new iCON station north of the train. Her cane slicking monotonously over the sidewalk concrete had distracted her and there were no taunts or the snide remarks that had always signaled an impending fight before. One of them had stepped up from the bridge railing and simply slugged her.

The ensuing fight was certainly not what the gang-bangers had expected from the slight, wry, blind girl and mere moments later the group of them lay, wincing and grumbling in pain, on the street. As for Violin, she was, herself, forced to take a knee in the dingy street with the sudden lancing pain that shot through her arm. It was broken, of that she was sure.

She had taken a deep breath and had begun to wait out the pain, knowing that her on-going mutation, unexpected and misunderstood as it was, would soon take over and mend the wound. It was ironic that the very thing that had stolen her sight, could so easily give her back the use of a limb.

She froze, partly in terror and partly in pain.

She grabbed her elbow and felt for the wound, felt for the break in the bone. But something was terribly wrong.

Now she lay safe in the quad back at St. Joe’s, her hand still tracing lines over the injured elbow. The skin she felt past her humerus was rough at first, but gave way to flesh that was overly smooth and supple. It felt like latex, almost, slick without being wet, as though it would be shiny to look upon. She could also feel what was likely a set of small, ascending ridges that terraced up the back of her arm, perhaps an inch or more. The ridges that met her elbow terminated into a small, sharp, bony point.

Violin shivered. The mutation had done something again. Again she had been wounded unexpectedly and again, something other than her natural flesh had been woven in the wound’s place. First her eyes; strange, useless, white, orbs that they had become, and now this.

She felt the floor for her cane and pulled it to her chest. She wondered if she should talk to Dr. Conrads.

~~~~~~*****~~~~~*****~~~~~*****~~~~~*****~~~~~*****~~


The pop of the loudspeaker coming on jolted Amy out of her thoughts as she drifted aimlessly in and out of attention. Sister Moltar was explaining, possibly for the seventh time, how the genius of Dante Alighieri portrayed the poet Pier della Vigna to a class that could only be characterized by soft sighs and muffled conversations. The loudspeaker crackled once and then did a sadly poor imitation of the voice of Ms. Sinclair.

“Sister Moltar, could you send Amy to the main office, please?”

Sister Mary Moltar did not even bother with a response, simply watched with a cool demeanor as Amy reached carefully for her cane, lifted her books over her shoulder, and tapped her way to the door. Mary leaned over and pulled the classroom door open, allowing the confused student to pass more easily.

Violin tapped her way down the hallway and carefully made her way to the main lobby in the front of the school. Every now and again her free hand would rub her shoulder where the bookbag strap cut into her jacket, and then drift down to once again scratch at her elbow. The strange ridges and point had not grown in two days, nor did they seem to be fading. A small, trill of fear tickled her heart.

The scent of fresh carpet cleaner and Sister Constance’s potpourri signaled that she had reached her destination. She hung a right into the office and stopped once her cane struck the base of the front desk.

“Ummm, I’m here.” She managed, not really knowing if there was someone standing there or not.

The voice of Sister Constance was a pleasant reminder of security. “Hello, Amy. Ms. Sinclair is in her office to your right.”

“Thanks.”

A soft knock was met with a gentle, “Come in.”

Amy pushed the door open and managed not to stumble into the room. For a moment, cane, feet, and bookbag ceased to operate in proper order and Violin nearly found herself having a similar encounter with the floor as yesterday in the quad.

“Eh…heh…Sorry.” She quickly found the chair in front of Gemini’s desk before the blush on her face and neck spread anywhere else. “What’s up?”

“I got a call from your mom today, Amy and I have good news.” Violin could picture Gemini, pert and prim, with her hands folded neatly on a spot-less desk. She didn’t actually know if the image was true, but Ms. Sinclair had the kind of voice that made her think of a woman like that. She even had the image detailed all the way down to the way her bun kept every hair in place without so much as a drop of hairspray.

“Really?” Violin shifted in her seat. “What is it?”

“Your parents have gotten a response from Seeing Eye Dogs of America,” Amy could almost hear the smile on her face, “You’re getting a dog.”

The squeal of joy that burst out from Gemini’s office was nearly enough to startle Sister Constance.

“He’ll be brought to St. Joe’s campus next Tuesday. He’s two years old and his name is Bailey. I’m sure you’ll take good care of him but before then, we have a few things to discuss about animal’s here on campus, Amy.”

((I hope everyone has enjoyed my inspiration in writing a story. Let me know if anyone wants to join in. Thanks!))

Amy sat impatiently tapping her pencil. Her seventh period class felt as though it had already lasted years and Sister Mary Moltar’s placid voice showed no signs of slowing. Her tentative fingers moved across her desk, feeling for where her tape-recorder should be, and for the twentieth time, it was right where she had left it.

‘It couldn’t be much longer,’ Her mind raced. ‘Only a few minutes, a few minutes and Bailey would be here.’

Ever since she had found out she had been approved for her first seeing-eye dog, the thought of her new dog, Bailey, had consumed every waking thought. She had already gone to Steel Canyon with Kim Stone to buy water and food dishes, a leash, a bed, tags, and anything else the two giggling girls could think of. In mere hours, the left side of Quad 3 had been transformed into something resembling a puppy condo, complete with a “Dog Crossing” sign over the Quad door.

Her morning “training” sessions were even going well. Tim, the trainer from Seeing-Eye Dogs of America, came out everyday to teach her the proper commands and how to care for Bailey. Amy felt as though she was learning how to walk all over again. She had to move a certain way and talk a certain way, and it was all very overwhelming. But overwhelming was crushed beneath the staggering weight of anticipation.

Briefly, she wondered if her quad mates would like him. Would they like having a dog on campus?

The bell chimed and before Sister Moltar could manage a ‘class dismissed’, Amy was out of her seat, her tape recorder was tossed unceremoniously into her shoulder bag, white cane was made ready, and she thus summarily tripped and went sprawling across the tile floor.

There was silence. Someone coughed.

“Heh….Sorry.” She shuffled as she picked herself back up, righted the cane, and chastely tapped her way to the door.

*************************************************************
Outside the main building there was a large amount of noise. Amy could pick out a few voices she recognized from the comms but her attention quickly became focused on the sound of Dr. Conrads and Ms. Sinclair calling her name. She did her best to rush over, trying not to stumble past the other people she could feel around her.

Tim’s voice cut through the crowd, “Hey Amy! You ready for the big moment.”

Without meaning to, she started to cry. She was too excited, too nervous, and too overwhelmed to do much more than rub at her face and nod.

She shifted her cane into the opposite hand and slowly extended her fingers in front of her. They were greeted by a warm, wet, swipe and a soft snuffle. She knelt down and ran her hand across of a large, furry, head that ended with another wet slurp. He was tall with short fur and big paws. A Golden Lab.

She smiled. He was perfect. Everything was perfect.

Who needed sight. She had Bailey.

Dear Mom,

Sorry I haven't written as many times as I promised. The braille keyboard you sent with me didn't work very well after I knocked my soda into my backpack last week and I didn't figure it out until my last English paper landed me in the councilor's office for drug testing.
Bailey is the best! I think he figured out St. Joes' Campus already and I've only ended up in the wrong bathroom once! My friend Kim says she can talk to animals but so far it seems that Bailey just has to pee alot and he thinks his dog food tastes like yellow, whatever that means.
I've been staying out of trouble. Everyone here is pretty careful about campus, what with all the scary news reports in the past few weeks. Don't worry, Mom! Things are going to be fine. I think Statesman sounds cute.

XOXO
Amy


She smiled as the printer began its usual buzzing and clacking. Violin felt a small sense of accomplishment; she had been meaning to get this letter out for nearly a week now.

She sat back in her chair and idly patted the top of Bailey's gently bobbing head, his tongue already lolled lazily to one side of his mouth. He was really enjoying the short, sharp claws and thin, gnarled hand that lovingly pulled at his ears.

Dear Mom,

I've finally made a friend! Her name is Joni and we met in study hall. She actually let me touch her face so I know what she looks like, too. I can't remember if she told me where she was from or not, but she's an African-American! I've never had a friend who was black! Isn't that cool?!

Anyway, I'm working with the new dictation computer so hopefully the fiasco with the keyboard never gets repeated. At least this time, I can play it back before it writes everything down.

Bailey is great! You should really come and see him, Mom, I think you'd be so proud of both of us!

Hope to see you soon!

Amy

Amy hopped up from the chair to pull the paper out of the printer as fast as it spit it out. As she began humming she could hear the door to MECCa slide open and almost too late, she pulled her sleeve down over her forearm and hand.

A slight breeze told her the person had passed by. She continued humming.