Outside the time Read online

  Table of Content

  Chapter 1 – Paulina 3

  Chapter 2 – Silicon Valley Love 16

  Chapter 3 – You are burning me 31

  Chapter 4 – So fast, so crazy 41

  Chapter 5 – My mind can’t follow me 51

  Chapter 6 – I must be happy (or not?) 60

  Chapter 7 – First time is over 72

  Chapter 8 – Still thinking of you 85

  Chapter 9 – I’m Hungry 94

  Chapter 10 – Be my partner 103

  Chapter 11 – I need you warming me 116

  Chapter 12 - Shut up, I'm dirty 125

  Chapter 13 – I’m meeling you 137

  Chapter 14 - I can not escape from you 146

  Chapter 15 – Wake me up 156

  Chapter 16 - Truth or consequence 171

  Chapter 17 – Lost. Period. 183

  Chapter 18 - This is YOUR end 196

  Chapter 19 - I don’t expect this! 207

  Chapter 20 – Feel the power 220

  Chapter 21: Unicorn 230

  Chapter 22: Live and let die 241

  Chapter 23 – Where am i going? 253

  Chapter 24 – This is my way 265

  Chapter 25 – Live Die Live Die 276

  Chapter 26 – But i got hit 289

  Chapter 27 – Quite unexpected surprise 298

  Chapter 28 – I’m awake 308

  Chapter 29 – Just Begun 319

  Chapter 1 – Paulina

  I hated my parents. Okay, so I am sure just about every fifteen-year-old kid says that at some point in their life. It's like a right of passage or something. We all say it before stomping our feet and turning a complete one-eighty and storming off to our room. But I did, and I am fairly certain they hated me too. Why else would they saddle me with a name like Paulina Eluney Ecl.

  On its own Paulina is acceptable. I could live with that as I like the nickname Paula. But they had to add Eluney to it.

  It's like they woke up on the day Mom gave birth to me and said "Gee honey, how can we ensure our daughter will be constantly tormented in school?" Then poof, that's how they came up with my name. It sounded like the name of a little old lady wheeling around on her scooter throwing kittens at people because they got on her lawn.

  My parents were kind of old-fashioned when it came to naming their kids. Nobody had any idea why, considering their names were about as normal as they get. Frank and Sally Ecl.

  Plain, boring, simple — something I longed for other than Paulina Eluney!

  "Why are you always staring at that stupid laptop? It's going to make you even more blind," My older sister Jesabelle hissed. I glanced up from the soft glow of the screen and scowled at her.

  "What business is it of yours, Jez?" I hissed back.

  Jez and I didn't really see eye-to-eye, it went far beyond that of normal sibling rivalry. We detested each other and only coexisted because we had to. We were polar opposites in every way.

  Where I was obscure, hidden in the background and vastly ignored, she was in the spotlight. There was never a moment she didn't remind me of that fact either, and somehow everything I did, had to be her business.

  "No wonder you don't have any friends. You're going to grow up a complete and total loser. Oh wait, you already are a loser," She was keeping her voice low. She knew if Mom had heard her attacking me, she would have gotten it. Not that it really would have mattered. Mom's threats were always mostly empty ones.

  "Maybe I'm writing about you and your awesome career? You know, documenting the day we hit the road for the bright lights of California?" I flashed her the sweetest smile I could muster, doing my best to show her taunts weren't getting to me. It caused her to frown.

  The hamster wheel she called a brain, began churning as she tried to think of a witty comeback. But all she was able to do, was frown some more and wrinkle her nose in disgust.

  "Careful, or those wrinkles will stay there."

  She gasped, raising a hand to her face, and whipped her head back around to face the front of the car. I could not help but grin triumphantly as she pulled out her compact to investigate the wrinkles.

  "You are such a freak," I could hear her hiss once again. Irritating her gave me little satisfaction in life, but sometimes it would have to do. Especially when cooped up in a car with her for hours on end, where the only thing she had to entertain herself, was picking on me.

  Jez was three years older than me and actually should have graduated before we moved. She was about as dumb as a box of rocks so she was held back her freshman year. But, for as dumb as she was, she made up for it in looks.

  You know that cliché long-legged, blonde, eyes almost as blue as the sky itself, big-breasted woman you see in most magazines as a lingerie model? That was her.

  She was ridiculously perfect in appearance, about five-foot-seven, and her hair flowed flawlessly down to the end of her back. I don't think it had ever had a single split end in it. In fact I think if she ever actually got a split end she might have committed suicide.

  By the time she was four she was already getting modeling offers. Her face had been appearing on billboards for years. Hell, Victoria's Secret called right before the move, but Mom said she had to graduate first.

  Education was very important to both Mom and Dad. Neither of them managed to make it to college and Mom almost had to drop out of high school when she got knocked up with Jez. But I suppose they wouldn't be good parents if they said "Sure honey, drop out of high school and follow a career that has the life expectancy of a fly. We don't mind." So it was a mantra they continued with, even after she turned eighteen and could have moved out whenever she wanted.

  I glanced up from my computer again. Our car wound down the road slowly because of the traffic we found ourselves encased in. Outside the road was lined with tree's and I could see animals as they gathered on the edge. It made me uneasy how they all seemed to come out the second our car was about to pass.

  Driving across the country was one of my fantasy vacations. However, I honestly would have traded that drive in for a root canal given the circumstances.

  We are moving. Those are probably three of the most depressing words a kid could hear outside of "We are getting a divorce" or "Mom/Dad is dying." The four of us sat there, jaws dropped to the floor, staring at our parents as they explained we were packing up and moving to California.

  Dad's company lost the head of their computer logistics department and they wanted Dad to take it over, which he couldn't do remotely in Minnesota. He had to be on site. It was more money than Dad could pass up, so we packed up our belongings and hit the road.

  You know that first scene from the original Karate Kid where Daniel and his Mom pack up and drive to California, their family and friends chasing after their car as it pulls away? Yeah, that was us.

  Well, in my case it was friend, singular. My one and only friend, Charlie, who I knew I would probably never see again. He was there, crying like the little girl that he was, chasing the car.

  Sure we would write via text or email for a time, but let's face it, we were teenagers. How long would that really go on before he found someone to replace me and stop writing back?

  Which was too bad. I really liked Charlie. He was a fabulous gay boy who had not yet come out of the closet, except to me. The fact he chose me to be his first person to tell gave me warm and fuzzy feelings. Charlie insisted he would never, under any circumstances, come out to anyone else in high school.

  I didn't blame him, either. High school was bad enough for anyone that didn't fit the popular idea of what was "cool", but to come out of the closet would have been suicide. Times were changing, but not fast enough to save Charlie.

  Quickly, I had to wipe a tear from my eyes as I remembered how he chased after our old station wagon from the 1980s. Mom and Dad didn't like flashy things.

  Sure, they had money to buy them, but they just didn't like them. So instead of having a nice comfortable car that fit six people and their crap nicely, they had that piece of junk. Three kids fit nicely in the back seat but of course that left one kid in the dust to ride in the very back.

  I think you can guess which kid regularly drew the short straw.

  The trip to California saw me stuck in the back surrounded by boxes looking for an excuse to fall on me and crush my every bone. At least I had my laptop to keep me company, so I could type and listen to music. Being able to tune out the music that was on whenever my little sister Junie was in the car was very important. One could only deal with so much pop music from Disney for so long.

  "Bloody hell!" I exclaimed as one of the boxes landed on my head.

  "Are you okay honey?" Mom asked.

  Sure, just great, Mom. I was only going to die of a concussion or some kind of cerebral hemorrhage being stuck in that damn back with those damn boxes. But otherwise I was just flat out peachy.

  "Fine. Stupid box just fell on me," I kept my attitude in check. It was better to whine in your head than whine in person.

  "We're almost to the restaurant. Just hang in there a little while," She smiled at me and returned to the GPS unit she was trying to program.

  "Here, let me help," My younger brother Xavier said as he un-buckled his seat belt to turn around and help me push the box back up.

  He was only a year younger, but he was also a bit of a hottie like Jez. The worst part is it happened overnight, almost literally. He hadn't even started high school yet and he was being asked to the Senior Prom. Made me sick!

  He claimed it was be
cause he was musician; chicks dig musicians, he always said. His eyes were the same shade of hazel green as mine, but he had these thick black eyelashes that really made them pop. He liked to spend his time tanning so his skin was a solid brown color, made me look like an albino when I stood next to him. If I didn't know he was genetically related to me I would have thought he was adopted.

  He was going to be a freshman post-move, and he was already almost six-foot. His hair was ash brown with completely natural blonde streaks in it. He kept it medium length with flattened bangs that swept neatly into his face. The back of his head was globed with gel making it spike out on either side. He called it his British rock star look, but I didn't get it, I thought he kind of looked like a porcupine with bangs.

  He and Mom almost always butted heads over one thing or another. She wanted him to be more like Dad and into computers, but he had no interest in them. Until I taught him how to record his music on one, he refused to even touch them for the longest time.

  We got along the best out of all the kids. He said we were kind of like kindred spirits in that neither of us lived up to Mom or Dad's expectations. He came to my defense every time Mom ragged on me to be more like Jez and do girly crap.

  He really did get me. I was very much a tomboy.

  When other girls were playing with Barbies I was picking out Ninja Turtles or Hot Wheels. I beheaded many a Barbie with Leonardo's blade on multiple occasions. I even went through a pyro phase where I enjoyed melting them down to pudding. Xavier gave me the lighter half the time.

  My hair was brown — not a nice ash brown like Xavier's but more like the color of poo. Sometimes I thought my head was actually dunked into a toilet bowl full of excrement.

  One time I tried to dye it and somehow managed to come out with hot pink hair. I have to say it was really talented of me to accomplish that with a box of strawberry blonde hair dye. Mom flipped. She grounded me for a month and made me do chores to pay for the stylist she dragged me to in order to get my crap color back. I think I would have preferred the pink.

  I wasn't fat or really skinny — very average in that department — but I was short. I would be lucky if I came to five-foot-three, and I was stuck with stupid glasses that were too big for my face. No matter how many times I put it on my Christmas list, Santa would never bring me contacts.

  "Earth to Abs." I hadn't noticed Xavier shaking me or that we had stopped to get something to eat

  "Huh?" I mumbled as I looked up from my keyboard. Xavier would always joke that my laptop was my crack. He was kind of right as I went into full-on zombie mode when I got behind it. Same went for my art.

  "Get out or starve."

  Every time we took a road trip my parents insisted on stopping at the most touristy restaurants they could find. So it was no surprise to me when we pulled up at a restaurant that looked like something out of the Netherlands. It even had a windmill next to a stream that circled around the entire restaurant.

  In true tourist fashion they, of course, insisted that we gather around the windmill to get our picture taken. Got to love those stupid family moments, moments that delude the world around you into thinking you are one big happy family. There is never a fight, never a broken heart, never a chink in the metallic coat of armor we all wear so proudly. Just one big prototypical happy American family— which we were, don't get me wrong. But dammit, sometimes I liked to pretend we were dysfunctional!

  "Guten Tag!" Xavier chirped aftre we finished our picture.

  "That's German, nut bag." I laughed.

  "I'm aware of that, but it's the closest thing I know. It seemed to fit better then the two phrases of Spanish I know." He shrugged. "And since those phrases in Spanish consist of mostly bad words, I figure it was also a safer bet to not get whapped."

  "Mom and Dad don't know Spanish."

  "Ah, but we do know the cuss words." Dad leaned in toward me with a wink. I couldn't help but snort. Dad was probably the one Xavier learned them from.

  Since there was still a lot of driving to go before we reached our hotel for the evening, Dad insisted we take time to walk around town after eating. The town wasn't very big. It had a population of a couple thousand, and you could see the whole thing on one main street.

  "Ponies!" Junie exclaimed excitedly, waking me from my boredom coma.

  I opened one eye in time to watch her run from the antique store's window display with a full length pink boa wrapped around her tiny neck. She was also wearing a pair of neon pink sunglasses that were way too big for her face, and her feet were slipping in and out of the adult-sized high heeled shoes. It was a miracle she didn't fall and hurt herself.

  "There's ponies out there, Mommy! And they say we can ride them!"

  Junie was the youngest and kind of a ham. She knew she was cute and being so young meant she was going to be doted on by all things adult. Her hair was naturally curly, kind of like Mom's, and a similar ash color to Xavier's except a little lighter. In certain lights it looked as if it was straight up blonde.

  She would get these adorable dimples that somehow always seemed to make her blue eyes twinkle. It was kind of odd how I had three adorably gorgeous siblings, and then there was me. It's like I got beat with the ugly stick in the womb.

  My pale skin was only darkened by a collection of moles and freckles. The occasional acne would grace my face with its ugly red presence. I didn't have a break-out as bad as some kids, but covering up the acne was the only real reason I started wearing makeup. Otherwise, I probably would have gone through life thinking Avon was a nickname for King Arthur's court in Avalon.

  "Oh, I don't know, Juniper..." Mom's voice trailed off as she looked behind Junie to see the remains of a hay ride drive by with a sign that read "Pony Rides" on its side.

  "Abs and I will take her!" Xavier volunteered, elbowing my arm.

  He was the only one I would allow to call me Abs. Anyone else would have been given a delicious knuckle sandwich for dinner. He was just as bored as I was with the tour of the downtown tourist trap. Mom and Jez just loved window shopping and especially loved antiques and thrift stores, while Xavier and I hated being dragged along for the ride.

  We both begged Mom to let us wander on our own. Finding the restaurant with a giant windmill to get back to our car wasn't going to be a problem. But she adamantly refused. So instead we were stuck watching them try on every ugly hand-me-down dress, ogle every winding clock and gush over tea sets with flowers on them.

  She hesitated. "I don't know…"

  "Come on, Mom! We'll stay there and you can meet us when you're done here. It can't be hard to find that little carnival down the street," I added my two cents.

  Junie hopped up and down excitedly. There was only one thing she liked more then playing dress up and that was horses. Xavier and I rushed to Junie's side and dropped to our knees, clasping our hands together and giving Mom the best puppy eyes we could muster.

  "Pwease, Mommy!" Junie whined again. Mom let out a sigh.

  "Your cell phones are fully charged?"

  Xavier and I nodded.

  "You won't leave each others sight for even a second?"

  Again, we nodded emphatically. She sighed one more time before handing us the camera and some money.

  "I want pictures." she muttered. The three of us cheered and wrapped our arms tightly around her before skipping off. "And don't leave that carnival until I get there! Understood? Xavier…. Paulina… I mean it!"

  Neither of us acknowledged the last part as we shuffled out of the store. Junie shoved the boa, shoes and glasses on a nearby shelf before tumbling after us. On the street we grabbed her hands for parental appearances and headed toward the carnival.

  As soon as we reached the zoo, Junie let go of our hands and ran up to the man handling the pony rides. Happily, she handed over her five bucks. Her smile was wide, as she could hardly hold still while he helped dress her in fake leather, black and white chaps and a crimson and gold cowboy hat.

  Xavier obediently took pictures like a crazy person as Mom would've demanded no less. I slapped my thanks on his back before I turned to explore the carnival. In one swoop he had managed to free us from the bonds of window shopping and give me an opportunity to have a moments peace to myself.

  "I'll call when she's done so we can meet up before Mom blows a gasket," He said as I left. I turned and blew him a kiss.