CHAPTER ONE
It's a story about two girls and a summer they spent together.
I'll add more every other week or so.
--Lauren*
Allison Gale, age 14, had light brown eyes that were oversized for her face. While, on some, this would be considered beautiful, on Allison, due to her flat almost mournful eyebrows, it caused her to resemble a Keane painting. In contrast, her mouth was small--barely visible. And her light brown hair lay so flat against her pale scalp that on first glance she appeared to be bald.
If it weren't for Allison's nose--which, like many girls in her age-group, she hadn't quite grown into--she sould have resembled an alien. Between her looks and her somewhat peculiar nature, Allison had a tendancy to make people she met quite uncomfortable. However, unlike most 14 year old girls, Allision Gale was not uncomfortable with herself.
Bandit considered these facts from where she stood, safely across the street. She was contemplating talking to Allison, but wanted to weigh the pros and cons before rushing into something. There were a lot of reasons not to talk to Allison Gale, but the facts were these: it was summer, and Bandit was lonely.
Bandit, also 14, had black hair that she had sheared into a short chunky cut close to her head--as it was her first time cutting her own hair, it stuck out in awkward angles from the top of her head. Her eyes were dark brown and thickly lined with black make-up. At first her peers had teased her saying that she looked like a raccoon. Eventually it was noted that her make-up also made her look like a cartoon burgler, a Beagle Boy--a bandit--and the new nickname stuck. No one called, and few even remembered, Bandit's real name anymore. And that was just how she liked it.
Finally, having come to a decision, Bandit crossed the street.
"Hey," she said blandly, giving Allison a slight nod with her head.
Allison looked at her blankly for a moment and then issued a hello. She took a bite from the round object she had clutched in her hand. When Bandit had been observing her from across the street, she had assumed it to be an apple or a pear...
"Is that...an onion?!" asked Bandit, recoiling slightly.
Allison nodded, chewing.
"Doesn't that gross you out?" probed Bandit, full of curiousity now. Her eyes were prickling and had already begun to water from being in such close proximity to Allison's bizzare snack; she couldn't imagine trying to eat it, especially with nothing to wash it down with.
"I have no sense of smell," answered Allison simply.
When Bandit did not immediately get that look of clarity one gets when they accept and understand an answer, Allison elaborated.
"You know that old experiment? Where you blindfold someone, pinch their nose shut really tight, and then tell them to eat a slice of apple and a slice of onion? Without their sense of smell, they can't tell the difference," she said, adding, "It's like that for me too except all the time."
"Oh," said Bandit, then, not knowing what else to say, added, "I'm sorry."
Allison shrugged. "It's okay," she said. "I've always been this way. PLus, since I can't taste the difference really, I save a few pennies 'cause onions cost less than apples. They're the same nutritional value anyway."
Bandit considered these points. She also marveled at the twist of fate that would have a girl with such a predominant nose have no use for it except for breathing. To Bandit, this explained many of Allison's oddities. A girl with no sense of smell and very little sense of taste would have a very altered sense of disgust and, Bandit imagined, a very poor understanding of death.
It's the smell of death, really, that gets to people. Why, when they come across dead things, their hands instinctively fly up to cover their noses and mouths to keep from retching. The smell of death alarms animals and makes humans feel ill. Not the sight.
It's why one can watch death in movies or see it in photographs, but have trouble dealing with it in person. Why somone can drive by a roadkill or see it out a window and think "Oh, how sad," but not feel real disgust until they're up close to it, shoveling it off the sidewalk...
"Okay. Well...bye," said Allison, giving Bandit a vague wave goodbye.
Bandit watched in silence, almost in a trance, as Allison walked down the street still eating her onion. She would have to try to make contact with her again tomorrow.
I'll add more every other week or so.
--Lauren*
Allison Gale, age 14, had light brown eyes that were oversized for her face. While, on some, this would be considered beautiful, on Allison, due to her flat almost mournful eyebrows, it caused her to resemble a Keane painting. In contrast, her mouth was small--barely visible. And her light brown hair lay so flat against her pale scalp that on first glance she appeared to be bald.
If it weren't for Allison's nose--which, like many girls in her age-group, she hadn't quite grown into--she sould have resembled an alien. Between her looks and her somewhat peculiar nature, Allison had a tendancy to make people she met quite uncomfortable. However, unlike most 14 year old girls, Allision Gale was not uncomfortable with herself.
Bandit considered these facts from where she stood, safely across the street. She was contemplating talking to Allison, but wanted to weigh the pros and cons before rushing into something. There were a lot of reasons not to talk to Allison Gale, but the facts were these: it was summer, and Bandit was lonely.
Bandit, also 14, had black hair that she had sheared into a short chunky cut close to her head--as it was her first time cutting her own hair, it stuck out in awkward angles from the top of her head. Her eyes were dark brown and thickly lined with black make-up. At first her peers had teased her saying that she looked like a raccoon. Eventually it was noted that her make-up also made her look like a cartoon burgler, a Beagle Boy--a bandit--and the new nickname stuck. No one called, and few even remembered, Bandit's real name anymore. And that was just how she liked it.
Finally, having come to a decision, Bandit crossed the street.
"Hey," she said blandly, giving Allison a slight nod with her head.
Allison looked at her blankly for a moment and then issued a hello. She took a bite from the round object she had clutched in her hand. When Bandit had been observing her from across the street, she had assumed it to be an apple or a pear...
"Is that...an onion?!" asked Bandit, recoiling slightly.
Allison nodded, chewing.
"Doesn't that gross you out?" probed Bandit, full of curiousity now. Her eyes were prickling and had already begun to water from being in such close proximity to Allison's bizzare snack; she couldn't imagine trying to eat it, especially with nothing to wash it down with.
"I have no sense of smell," answered Allison simply.
When Bandit did not immediately get that look of clarity one gets when they accept and understand an answer, Allison elaborated.
"You know that old experiment? Where you blindfold someone, pinch their nose shut really tight, and then tell them to eat a slice of apple and a slice of onion? Without their sense of smell, they can't tell the difference," she said, adding, "It's like that for me too except all the time."
"Oh," said Bandit, then, not knowing what else to say, added, "I'm sorry."
Allison shrugged. "It's okay," she said. "I've always been this way. PLus, since I can't taste the difference really, I save a few pennies 'cause onions cost less than apples. They're the same nutritional value anyway."
Bandit considered these points. She also marveled at the twist of fate that would have a girl with such a predominant nose have no use for it except for breathing. To Bandit, this explained many of Allison's oddities. A girl with no sense of smell and very little sense of taste would have a very altered sense of disgust and, Bandit imagined, a very poor understanding of death.
It's the smell of death, really, that gets to people. Why, when they come across dead things, their hands instinctively fly up to cover their noses and mouths to keep from retching. The smell of death alarms animals and makes humans feel ill. Not the sight.
It's why one can watch death in movies or see it in photographs, but have trouble dealing with it in person. Why somone can drive by a roadkill or see it out a window and think "Oh, how sad," but not feel real disgust until they're up close to it, shoveling it off the sidewalk...
"Okay. Well...bye," said Allison, giving Bandit a vague wave goodbye.
Bandit watched in silence, almost in a trance, as Allison walked down the street still eating her onion. She would have to try to make contact with her again tomorrow.