Secrets Within the Resounding Sound
Echo Sorrell has always been the odd man out. Adopted when he was merely three years old, he always experiences the hate from his twin siblings. However, life doesn’t always go the way it’s planned and there are always secrets somewhere within each sound that resonates within the world.
(Addis note: I now I should be finishing Inked, but I started this for NANIWRIMO and couldn’t help it.)
The path that I walk on is, so to speak, my own story. I cannot replicate the words someone else writes. This path may not be pretty, it may not always be nice or fun, but this is how most lives are. There’s always a dark side to any life. It may not be seen but it’s there and at times, it becomes the most prominent part that changes anyone. It’s these dark spots in the facade of life that becomes the essence of every thought and action that is either good or bad. The only one who chooses which direction is yourself. If I had a wish, I would wish that the sound of the turning pages of my story after each encounter would resound like the sound of footsteps.
“I mean, really, Echo, can’t you do anything about that face of yours?” Poppy was standing in my door frame, her hands on her hips, nose in the air and a smirk on her lips. She took one hand off her hip and waved towards the offending aforementioned body part. “It’s, like, you’ve been locked in a closet for years, you’ve no color at all.” She tilted her head, the smile on her lips becoming more malicious. “Maybe we should do something about that.” And, here we go. I tensed, knowing where this was going.
It was almost like a ritual on the first day of school in this household. It didn’t matter that the twins had graduated high school and were in their sophomore year of college, they still lived at home. Asher popped his head around the corner of the door frame, his smile so wide the dimples in his cheeks stood out prominently.
“Is it time, Pops?” Asher whisper yelled to his twin. He wasn’t the brightest bulb in the shed, but as the girls in school said, his looks by far made up for it. Poppy ruled over her twin, she was the dictator and he a mere minion when it came to her plans. No one but me knew of this fact. She showed a completely different side to anyone else.
I saw Poppy’s lips move before the sound came out. I knew she said, go, but all I could focus on was Asher. He hadn’t been on the football team in high school just for his looks. He moved before she did, sleaking past her far more quickly than I could move.
I tensed, balling my fists, anticipating the shock from the liquid in the bottle he held. I could stop all the water before it hit me but it was easier to take their bullying I learned over the years, than it was to fight it. Fighting meant explaining, explaining meant having my telekinesis ability found out by others. I knew telekinesis was something I should not broadcast, if I was found out I was afraid of where I would be taken. It was not normal to be able to move any object with the power of my mind. So I withheld my power when others were around, it was for the best.
At school, the twins have always been the center of attention with their strikingly apple red hair and almost neon green eyes. Poppy and Asher Sorrell can always be found amongst the popular crowds. My two older siblings look nothing like me because they are my adoptive parents’ real children. I’ve always been the odd one out in family photos. My black as charcoal hair and sky blue eyes are the exact opposite of theirs. Even though they are only three years older than me, they have always thought they were better than me. I’ve been picked on by them since I can remember. Maybe because the popular groups in school follow their suit, I’ve always gotten the brunt of jokes and have never fit in much. Today is no exception.
Asher reached me, grinned and threw the contents of the bottle in my face. I gasped from the cold, and the smell of the acid from the tomato juice. I could feel it soaking into my shirt and seeping all the way down to my pants. Poppy and Asher disappeared, chuckling all the way down the hall. Tomato juice dripped from the end of my nose and onto the hardwood floor. I knew without looking at the clock that I would now be late for my first day of my junior year. I sighed, wiped a hand down my face, closed the door gently with my mind and headed toward the bathroom.
I have learned to accept fate. To accept the life that was given to me. I was adopted into a family of four when I was only three years old. My adoptive parents have always been nice enough though there has always been something lacking. I’ve never put my finger on just what it is. They love me, I cannot deny that. However, it is something in their actions, something in the way they speak. Or maybe it’s just me being afraid of being abandoned again.
I was eight when I discovered that I had the ability to move objects with my mind. I was sick, stuck in bed. Mom took the day off of work and continued to keep a close eye on me, checking in on me every hour. She brought me water and medicine, telling me to sleep so I would get better. I was sore from coughing so often that my stomach muscles wouldn’t let me sit up to grab the water.
I was so frustrated that I started to cry, wishing that the water would just come toward me. Why couldn’t it just move itself so I wouldn’t have to. And that’s when it did. The water itself floated out of the glass and hovered in the air before me. I was so astonished that I stopped crying and just stared at it. I lost my concentration and all the water fell on me. I was afraid, then, of myself. I didn’t know what to do and from then on, I started to practice this unknown ability by myself until I was able to control it completely.
By the time I showered, caught a bus, ran through the bustling streets of Chicago and reached my high school, it was well into second period. I was glad to have missed first period Math but sad to miss most of my English class.
The halls of the school were dead silent, I knew where my classes were and as it was, it’s not like there was anyone there to miss me. Reaching Mr. Bayer’s second period advanced English class, I looked into the window of the door. Everyone was either talking or reading. Mr. Bayer himself was at his desk, his feet propped up on the desk and a book in his hands. When I opened the door, I anticipated everyone turning to look at me, ignoring the stares, I hurried over to Mr. Bayer.
He was an older man, his salt and pepper hair short, his goatee more white than grey. He pushed his glasses up his nose as he looked at me. Mr. Bayer has been my teacher since I was in middle school. He knew what I went through because of the twins and gave me a slightly easier time because of it.
“Mr. Sorrell,” he smiled at me and took his feet off of his desk. “How nice of you to join us” He glanced me over, noticing my wet hair, labored breathing and my irritated expression. He grabbed a stack of papers from the mess he called a desk and handed them to me. “Here is the syllabus and the worksheet due tomorrow. Make sure to get one of the books from the list by tomorrow. We’ll split into groups and start discussing after class begins.” He smiled at me, almost sadly it seemed. “I’m sure you have read all the books on the list, so choose which one you liked best. Go ahead and find an empty seat, you’re free to do what you wish.” Turning back to his book, I knew I was dismissed.
Holding in a sigh, I looked up and at the students in the classroom. I knew them, and they knew me, but they still gave me the looks of an outsider. As if I didn’t belong among them and was the only oddity they had ever seen.
Day one of one hundred and eighty, I thought. I’ll make it through this. I always did.
The school day was finished and even though it was only an eight hour day, I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed with a good book and go to sleep. I stretched my arms above my head as I walked through the house door. I stopped abruptly at the sound of voices.
“You took him in without giving it a second thought. Just like picking a flower growing at the side of the road.” I heard Poppy saying to our mother. Mom sighed, I heard the rustling of clothes against each other.
“Poppy, we would have done the same to any child that looked as bad as he did. You don’t remember because you were so little. When he looked up at me I thought his expressions weren’t very childlike. Those gloomy eyes that occasionally showed wavering reflections of city lights. They were like an ocean at night, and against all reason, they instantly drew me in. I couldn’t leave him.”
“That doesn’t mean he should have become your responsibility. Did you ever think of me and Asher?”
“That’s enough, Poppy.” Dad’s voice was quiet but brooked no argument. A foot stomped from inside the kitchen. I reached for the door handle just as Poppy barged through. She wrinkled her nose at me and moved passed me. I looked into the kitchen where Mom and Dad gave me a reassuring smile.
“How was school, Echo?” Mom asked handing me a mug of hot chocolate. Faking a smile I sat down at the kitchen table ready to tell her what she wanted to hear.
At that moment none of us realized we were standing at the edge of a pitch black sea, and that the tide was gradually washing away our foothold.