Sarah Neuhaus

A Walk Through the Forest

            That night I dreamed I was Anne of Green Gables, the unloved orphan who finally finds a home.  Only my alarm clock woke me up before the part where I got adopted.  I pretended I was Anne as I ate breakfast and packed my backpack for school.  Like her, I grudgingly threw my geometry book into the bottom of my bag, and began the long walk to school.  When I got to school, there should have been many people waiting for me to arrive, calling out my name when they first caught a glimpse of me.  But that didn’t happen.  I am not Anne Shirley.  I am Emily Parker, a shy, friendless nobody who lives with her parents in the small town of Mendocino, California.

            For the past few weeks we had been reading Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night in English.  As the class discussed the different methods of creating humor that Shakespeare employed, I sat in the back corner of the class and pondered Sebastian’s reaction to seeing Viola dressed up as himself.  What would anyone do if they met up with an identical twin they never knew they had?  Why didn’t Sebastian accuse Viola of identity theft?  But my thoughts were interrupted by an unexpected announcement from my teacher.

            “Now that we’ve finished reading this play, we are going to perform it for the rest of the school.  All of my students will have the opportunity to be in it.  You aren’t required to do this, but I strongly encourage it.  I know we’ll have tons of fun with this.”

            “Are you going to coach it?” Daniel, the school quarterback, asked.

            “I will be directing it,” she replied.

            I was ecstatic.  I knew I could act.  I did this all the time, pretending that I was various different characters from my favorite books.  My classmates always laughed at me when I tried to throw a ball in PE, but this was different.  This was finally something I could do.  I couldn’t wait till class was over and I could put my name on the list Ms. Roberts had tacked up on the door.

            When the bell rang, I hurriedly put my books back into my bag and practically ran to the door.  But other people got there first.

            “Hey, look who’s trying to sign up,” Daniel said to the rest of the class.  He turned to me, “Didn’t you know acting requires talent?  I mean, maybe you think you can be a costume designer because you make your own clothes, or whatever.

            Some of my classmates started to snigger.  He always made fun of me and my clothes.

            “What?  You don’t want to sign up?’ Daniel said.  “Then what are you doing standing there?”

            Silently, I turned and walked away from him.  I could hear him and his friends laughing as I practically ran out the door, my face burning, tears welling in my eyes.

            I was so pissed at myself.  Why couldn’t I ever stand up to him?  Why did I always let him bully me?  I wanted to be in this play more than anything I had ever wanted.  My strength rising, I turned back to put my name on the list, but when I  saw them still laughing and taunting me, I ran.

            I ran away to hide my tears, to hide my shame.  But mostly I ran simply because my legs made me.  I had no idea where I was going.  I just needed to be somewhere, somewhere alone, where I could think. 

            My legs carried me deep into a forest a couple of miles away from school.  Finally, I gave up running, and took a look around me.  I had a vague idea where I was.  I had come here, or nearby, once for a picnic with my grandparents.  Those were the days when I still had friends, before they all moved away and I was unable to make new ones.  I sat down on a fallen tree.  My shorts had torn beyond repair.  Maybe he was right, maybe I should buy my clothes.  No.  All the girls in the books I read make their own clothes and they have friends.  No, it’s not the clothes.  Just as I was thinking these things, a nearby bird started singing.  As I looked up at the bird, something caught my eye.  Something that stood out in the forest.  Something that didn’t fit.

It was a tree house.  And unlike its green and brown surroundings, it was painted red with a purple door and a blue roof.  Neglected for many years, the boards sagged and seemed barely able to hold themselves up.  Moss had grown all over the tired structure, and small plants grew around, using it as protection from the wind. 

            I looked around for some clue as to who built it and why, but all around me was just dense forest.  There was no house nearby, no road, no nothing – just a decrepit tree house.  As I surveyed my findings, I tried to feel the same emotions Anne expressed when she found Hester Grey’s garden, but I couldn’t.  But instead of excitement and pleasure, I felt slightly confused and apprehensive.

A bunch of people had carved their names into the side of the tree house, so I decided to do it too.  The wood was so moist and decayed that I only needed to use my fingernail to leave an  impression.  I wanted to go inside, but my gut told me not to.  So instead, I decided to figure out exactly where I was and how I could get back home before my parents noticed that I was missing and started to worry.  It did not take me long, and before I left, I gave one last glance at the tree house.  As I looked at it, I had the weirdest impression that it was sneering at me.  I turned and fled the forest.

            When I got home I went straight to my room.  As usual, I didn’t feel like talking to my parents about how my day went.  But when I got to my room, I noticed that some things weren’t in the same place that I had left them that morning.  The stack of books I had laid out to read over the next month had been put on the shelf, and in the their place sat a lonely copy of Twelfth Night.  The pattern I had set aside for a new dress was in the trash, along with some of my hair ribbons.

            “Mom, have you been moving stuff in my room?” I yelled, sticking my head out the door.

            “No.  Why would I go into your room?” she responded.

            “I don’t know,” I said, wondering who did go into my room.

            I turned back to my room and put things back in their rightful places.

            I woke up the next morning dreading English class.  I knew all the other students would  be talking about what parts they were auditioning for and about how fun the play was going to be.  I hoped they wouldn’t notice me today.  It would be easier for me to bear not being in the play if they ignored me than if they taunted me about not being in it.  I groaned as the bell rang and it was time for me to go to English.

            As usual, I was one of the first people in the room.  My previous class was right across the hall, so I didn’t have far to go.  I tried not to look up when Daniel came in, but his friends made it impossible to do so.

            “Oh Daniel!  What happened to you?” exclaimed Lisa, a girl who was forever trying to win Daniel’s heart.        

            “That loser, Emily, hit him yesterday.”  I heard Daniel’s friend, Cameron, say.

            I looked up, and, to my astonishment, Daniel had a nice big shiner on his left eye.

            “She did that?” said Lisa, her eyes as wide as quarters.

            “Yeah, she did,” Daniel said quietly, not looking at me.

            “What happened?” asked Tom, a kid in my class.

“He was just sitting there minding his own business when this crazy maniac comes and attacks him,” Cameron said, glaring at me.

            “I didn’t do that,” I said simply.

            “Liar!  I saw you,” Cameron retorted.

            “I was at home,” I told him.

            “At home.  Yeah right you were at home!” he yelled, thrusting his chin at me.

            “Hey!  Leave it!” Daniel said, nudging Cameron sharply with his elbow.

“Well, unless there’s someone out there who has her ugly face and wears her same ugly clothes-”

But Daniel cut him off.  “I said, LEAVE IT!”

Cameron looked at him for a moment before shaking his head and sitting down at his desk.  I could feel my classmates stealing glances at me.  I had no idea what Daniel and Cameron were talking about.  I knew this must be a trick, but I couldn’t figure out what exactly was going to happen.  Still, there really was some fear in Daniel’s eyes.  There was no way he would be scared unless someone had really slugged him.  So, what happened?  How could I have hit him if I was at home?  I couldn’t have.

The rest of English was uneventful, but I still didn’t have the courage to put my name on that list.  I just looked sorrowfully at it before leaving the classroom.  PE, however, was a horse of a different color.  I was, for the first time, the center of attention.  Everyone wanted to know how I managed to hit Daniel.

‘Weren’t you scared he was going to hit you back?”

“Naw.  You weren’t scared, were you?”

“What did he say when you hit him?”

“I bet he cried.”

“He cried?  Man, I wish I was there.”

            They hounded me with their questions.  I couldn’t talk.  I couldn’t make a sound.  My brain was numb and my vocal chords were malfunctioning.  I was so surprised that people  actually wanted to be with me.  My face grew red with all the attention.

            Then Mr. Burns, the PE teacher, told us to line up for class.  “Alright, today we’re going to play baseball.”

            My spirits sank.  People were always hitting me with the pitch.

            “Emily!” Mr. Burns shouted at me.  “Since you hit that nice homerun yesterday, you can be one team captain.  Billy, you can be the other.”

This was a shock to me.  First of all, I couldn’t have hit a homerun if my life depended on it, and secondly, I didn’t go to PE yesterday.  I was in the forest.  But no one around me acted as if Mr. Burns said something wrong.  Some of them even congratulated me on my hit.  I was still at a loss for words, so I didn’t challenge them.  Besides, I kind of wanted to feel what it was like to not be the last one picked.  So, I assumed my role as team captain. 

“Colin,” I chose.

“David,” Billy chose.

“Zac.”

“Geoff.”

Back and forth, back and forth we chose suitable players for our teams until there was no one left.  I was enjoying myself a great deal.  For the first time I actually got into the game, and tried my hardest to win.  Surprisingly, I started to be able to play baseball fairly well.  At least, I didn’t get hit with any pitches that game.  I got on a base almost every time, although I didn’t even come close to hitting a homerun.  During that game I started to see why other people liked PE.

In the sixth inning, as I was running out to my customary position in right field, I thought I noticed someone standing behind a parked car.  She was only there for a second, but in that small fraction of time, I could have sworn I saw someone who looked just like me.  But then, I thought, there must be thousands of people who look like me from this distance.  And when the leadoff batter came up to the plate, I thought no more about it.

After school, I decided to go to the public library to pick up some books.  I looked at my reflection in the window as I walked passed the barber shop.  But, my reflection in the glass, instead of walking with me from one end of the store to the other, walked towards me and passed me going in the opposite direction.  I stopped and turned around.  My reflection was grinning at me.  A cold shiver went down my spine as I once again walked passed the window.  The same thing happened.  I looked around with frightened eyes.  No one else on the street seemed to notice that anything was amiss.  I turned back to the window, and noticed that my reflection was gone.

I suddenly felt sick.  I quickly found a bench and sat down.  My head was throbbing and my stomach was queasy.  What is going on?  I thought.  Am I mad?  Is this all a dream?  I pinched myself to see if I was awake.  When nothing happened, I worried that it might not be a dream after all.  All those weird things happening to me – my room messed up, the black eye, the homerun, my reflection – I must be going insane.  My heart both leaped to my throat and sank to my stomach at the same time.  I looked wildly around me, but I couldn’t focus on anything.  Tears were welling up in my eyes.  I needed to calm down.  My eyes closed, I did breathing exercises that I read about somewhere that are supposed to calm you down.  Breathe in one…two…three…four, breathe out one…two…three…four, breathe in, breathe out.  Finally, I was calm.  I opened my eyes.  The sky was bright and clear.  The leaves on the trees were waving as the breeze brushed against them.  There were cars driving on the street.  The world was just as it should be.

I got up and walked to the library.  I made sure that I didn’t look in any shop windows.  At the library, I walked up the familiar stairs.  The stacks of systematically shelved books were comforting.  This was my sanctuary, my home away from home.  I picked out five books from the fiction section, sat down in my usual chair, and began to read.

There were more surprises waiting for me when I got home.

“Back so soon?  I thought you were going to the library,” my mom said.

“I did go to the library,” I responded.

“How could you?  You left under five minutes ago, and you’re already back.”

“What are you talking about?”  I exclaimed.  “Look, here are the books I checked out.”  I held out my books for her to see. 

“I went to the library right after school,”  I said, trying to convince myself as much as her.

            “Whatever,” my mom shrugged.

            I turned and went into my room. I couldn’t understand what was going on with my life.  I didn’t think I was crazy, but then do crazy people think they’re crazy?  My body started to tense up, my heart sped up.  I lay down on my bed and did my breathing exercises again.  Breathe in, breath out, breathe in, breathe out. 

            Once I had somewhat calmed down, I reached over and picked up my tattered copy of Anne of Green Gables.  I held it to my cheek for comforting. 

“Am I going crazy?” I asked Anne.

I sighed, Anne never had to worry about these things.  I stared at my ceiling, clutching my beloved book, and thought about everything that was going on.  If I was crazy, what would happen to me.  Up until recently I was living a normal life.  Since I wasn’t harmful and I could deal with society, wouldn’t the doctors just give me some pills to take every day and send me on my merry way?  They might have to lock me up until they found out what disease I had.  They probably would want to know how long I have been seeing things.  Well, I didn’t notice anything until I came home from the tree house.  The tree house.  I sat up.  I knew that somehow that rotting building held the answer to everything.  I had to go back.  I needed to know what was going on.

            I left the house, yelling to my mom that I’d be back before dinner.  The tree house was exactly where I remembered, and I got there without any trouble.  But there was someone else there.  She had her back towards me, and she hadn’t heard me coming.  I hesitated, not wanting to turn back, but wanting to be alone with the tree house.  But then I noticed that the girl standing there was a carbon copy of me.  She even had the same birth mark above her left elbow. 

            I stared at her.  Who was she?  What was she doing to me? 

            She turned to look at me.  “Who am I?  You know who I am.  I’m afraid the only name I go by is Emily.”

            I started.  I hadn’t realized that I had spoken those questions aloud. 

            “Emily?” I asked.

            “What?  You don’t believe me?” she said,

            “No, I believe you,” I said quickly.

            This was the explanation for my insanity.  Although it wasn’t much of an explanation in an in of itself.  But, I could see her, and so could all the people at my school.  So, if I was crazy, then so were all my classmates. 

            She interrupted my thoughts with a startling statement.  “You know, you don’t have to hide yourself from the world.  There are plenty of people out there who want to be friends with you.”

            I didn’t know what to say.  I didn’t quite comprehend what she was saying to me.

            She was studying me closely.  I turned red under her gaze.

            “I think my work here is done.  You’re smart.  You can figure out the rest for yourself,” she said.

            I had no idea what she was talking about, but before I had the chance to ask her what she meant, she had opened the door to the tree house, and walked in.  I ran over and threw open the door, trying to catch her, but when I looked inside, there was nothing there.  I surveyed my surroundings, trying to find out where she had gone, and failed.  She just vanished into thin air.

            I sat down on a mossy stump.  I thought about what she said, about what had happened to me the past day.  Franklin D. Roosevelt’s famous quote kept popping up in my head: We have nothing to fear but fear itself.  I knew somehow that these things fit together like a jigsaw puzzle, but I still didn’t get it.

            Suddenly, I stood up.  My quick movements sent a chipmunk scurrying.  I knew what I had to do.  The wet moss had soaked through my pants to my underwear.  I must have been sitting there for a while.  As I started to leave, I noticed the names carved into the side of the tree house.  They were the names of my friends who had moved away when I was little: Jean, Marie, Robin.  I smiled and left the forest.

            I woke up the next morning excited for school.  Instead of putting on my worn out pair of shorts that I made out of an old dress, I put on a pair of store-bought blue jeans.  They were stiffer and heavier, but I thought I could get used to them.  I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and comb my hair, and I was surprised by what I saw in the mirror.  The person who was looking back at me was not the person who was there yesterday or the day before.  I no longer saw my timid self.  My chin was a little higher than usual, and my face wasn’t as pale.  I knew this girl wouldn’t let people bully her.  When I got back to my room, I spotted Anne of Green Gables sitting on my chest of drawers.  I picked it up and fingered the worn-out cover.  Then I walked over to my bookshelf, and for the first time since I could remember, I put the book away.  While I could still love Anne, I no longer needed her.

            As soon as I got to English, I walked straight up to the list and wrote down my name.  Emily Alice Parker.