The Dorm Guard 15 Chapter Fifteen: Basic Bucket Lis

*

When we walked home that afternoon Alexis held my arm, her hands were soft and smooth against me. This was the first time I had seen Alexis walk back home in the week and a bit I've been here. "Didn't you have anything else to do?" I asked.

She shrugged, "Nothing I couldn't do at home."

"Have you got any ideas for that art show?" I asked.

"With a theme like 'The Art of Ident.i.ty,' there's a bit to work with," she replied, "Whatever I do I just need to justify it. I've got a handful of ideas though so I can start mulling them over the next few months."

"Any you'd like to share?" I asked.

I watched Alexis bite her bottom lip in thought. "It's a bit difficult with projects like this," she informed, "Ident.i.ty is a large topic, but most commonly people do portraits or caricatures. When I do those, they're just familiar enough for people to recognise it, but unless they know I'm blind it's seen as a lazy style."

I recalled the featureless nature of how she portrayed people. "If it's your style, I wouldn't worry about that. They're unique."

"I'm aware," Alexis replied with a smile.

I almost facepalmed myself. Of course, Alexis would be aware, she's won contests with the said unique art style. "If you're that worried about it, why not steer away from portraits? Aren't there other ways of showing ident.i.ty?" It was awkward rolling my bike with one hand while holding onto Alexis, especially with the uneven roads, but I was determined to hold onto Alexis.

"Objects and things are a bit more cliché then portraits. If I were to paint a pair of scissors cutting a ribbon people would think I was commenting on my innocence or some sort of feminist standpoint or that maybe I was molested or something." Alexis blew some hair from my face. "When all I did was paint some scissors cutting some ribbon. You need to be careful using items to examine ident.i.ty because creative interpretation can cause a whirlwind of issues even if you offer an explanation."

Aside from a few pa.s.sing comments, we stayed silent in each other's company.

When we made it to the front garden, Alexis was comfortable walking on her own. "I know the bearings," she a.s.sured standing on her own, "Thanks for walking me home, Dorm Guard."

I raised an eyebrow, "Thanks for the company, Artistic G.o.d."

She smirked as she dug her heel into the ground, I a.s.sumed to check she was on the driveway, before confidently walking to the door, climbing the steps and going inside.

As usual, I walked my bike around the house and into the shed. When I closed the shed door, I looked around the backyard and saw Mia sitting on a picnic blanket surrounded by toys. I wondered if she was having a tea party.

"Afternoon, Mia," I greeted approaching her picnic.

She acknowledged me before returning her attention to a teddy bear in need of a tea refill.

"May I sit?" I requested.

She shrugged as she picked up a pink plastic teapot and poured air into a matching cup. I sat between a purple rabbit and a giant brown bear.

"Didn't think tea parties were your style," I commented as she pa.s.sed me a cup of mythical tea.

She ignored my comment to offer me some real biscuits one a little princess plate.

"I expected maybe princess castles or those new robot toys that roll around," I said taking one of the cookies, it was the size of a potato chip. It tasted very dry. While I munched on the biscuit, I noticed Mia was looking somewhere behind me. I looked over my shoulder, the only notable thing was the back gate and a very twig-like tree. I doubted she was staring at the tree.

I a.s.sumed, "You're waiting for Bonnie." Mia was very good at hiding her reaction, but she dropped her eyes just that little too quickly. "She skipped school again."

Mia bit the inside of her cheeks, aware that I knew what was going on and opting not to look at me. I leaned forward, "Mia, look at me." Her head remained down but her eyes lifted. "Are you waiting for Bonnie?"

She sucked in her lips and played with her fingers, picking at the dirt under her fingernails as her eyes dropped to the picnic blanket again. Very reluctantly, she nodded.

I sighed as I straightened. "Well…" I picked up the teacup Mia had placed in front of me, "After I drink my imaginary tea, I want you to go inside. I'm going to wait for Bonnie." Mia seemed caught between smirking and looking horrified.

After ten minutes of make-believe tea, I told Mia to go inside. I was expecting some push-back, but without a gesture of protest, she picked up all five of her guests and balanced them back into the house. She didn't return to get the picnic blanket.

I started went to the back gate and waited. I only had to wait another ten minutes before I saw someone appear at the top of the hill and roll through the gra.s.s to get to the gate. Bonnie made it to the bottom of the hill and saw me waiting for her and made a loud groan and showed visible annoyance as she threw her head back to look to the sky. "Yeah, I'm happy to see you too," I replied as she rolled closer, "Let me give you a hand with that." I flicked the lock up and opened the gate for Bonnie. Without a word she rolled through, her nose wrinkled to add to her sour expression. "Wanna tell me what you were doing?"

Her jaw clenched, "What? I need your permission to go for an afternoon stroll?" she snapped.

I shook my head, "No. You don't. But I would prefer it if you told me you were still skipping out on school during the day and most of the afternoon," I countered.

Bonnie's hands curled into fists on her lap. "Who told you that?" she asked, "Was it, Ava? She needs to mind her own business."

"It was Miss Moore," I informed, crossing my arms, "You know, the Councillor in charge of keeping track of the students. She told me about it a couple of days ago."

Her hands relaxed as she brushed aside some hair. "Doesn't do a good job then, does she?" Bonnie tried to roll away, but I quickly blocked her.

"I couldn't care less if you skip out on school, Bonnie. It's your own issue and your own parents' money you're wasting. But I do take issue in you dragging Mia into your little day-trips," I informed.

Her blue eyes turned icy cold as she turned her signature glare to me. "Leave Mia out of this," she growled through her teeth.

I wasn't backing down. "You brought Mia into this when she missed the first day of school because of you and dedicated her afternoons to waiting for you to come home," I countered. I shook my head, ensuring I calmed down before I continued. "What is so important that you can't wait? Perhaps I can help, or we can figure something out with the school if there's an issue."

Bonnie turned her head away from me, choosing not the answer.

"Or I could call your parents directly," I threatened, "Tell them what it looks like from my perspective."

"No!" It was surprisingly easy to make Bonnie tell me. She didn't argue with me or tell me to go away or call me some random name. She made a long sigh, s.h.i.+fted around in her seat until she produced some paper from her back pocket. "I take it you're aware I wasn't always like this," she said, "In a wheelchair, I mean."

The paper had been folded several times and different tainted colours from continually being open and closed. I nodded as I turned the paper over in my hands. "Yes, I've heard."

Despite this, she continued. "Some random car accident when I was nine years old…" she bit down on her bottom lip as if this was hard to talk about, "One day I could walk and run around, and the next I couldn't even feel my toes. Do you know how jarring that is?" she asked as she started rolling slowly towards the house, I followed. "Afterwards, my parents became paranoid for my safety. I was only allowed to go from my tutor to rehabilitation and then home. The same schedule, for three years."

Bonnie stopped rolling when she saw the picnic blanket. "All I had was Mia, and because of me, all Mia had was me." She looked over my shoulder. "I grew up here Landon. I had my first swim at Windmill Lake, my first movie in town, I went to the St George Catholic Primary School until that accident," her voice started cracking, "And you grew up here… and had no idea who I was when we met on that hill…" She pressed a hand against her eye, falling silent as she tried not to cry. "And I didn't know who you were. I was so hermitted by my parents that other kids who grew up around here, who I grew up with, don't even remember me." Her breathing became laboured as she gritted her teeth, trying to hide her frustrated tears from me, but her hands trembled, her breath wobbled, and she was unable to speak.

I walked to her front and kneeled, when I attempted to comfort her, she slapped me away. "Landon this is my first chance at freedom in years…" Bonnie sniffed, her eyes were red and puffy. She gestured to the paper she had handed me.

I unfolded it, the paper had been folded eight times. It was a handwritten note with a big printed t.i.tle 'Basic Bucket List.' It listed activities I thought was rather basic for a bucket list; go visit Windmill Lake unaided, partic.i.p.ate in a field race, look at the stars from the best view capable, go to the carnival, have my first slow dance, use a swing set and others. The most outrageous thing on the list involved hot air ballooning, and even that wasn't a stretch for this small town.

"That's what I've been doing…" she snuffled, "For the past week. I tried to start it before school went back, and it's just taken a lot more time than I thought it would."

Some of the bucket list notes were ticked off in red marker; visit Windmill Lake, use the train station alone, and visit a port and go fis.h.i.+ng. There must've been over twenty others left to do.

"Bonnie…" I was speechless, stunned to say the least as I watched the girl who used a wheelchair wipe tears from her eyes as she struggled to the maintain her prideful image. I squatted so I was shorter than her. I tried a simple gesture, reaching a hand to hers and gently holding it. Her fingertips were cold as her body trembled, her grip tightening around my hand. I wished I could offer a tissue or find the right words to stop Bonnie from sobbing, just something to say, perhaps something profound that would make the entire situation okay again.

In the end, all I could offer was, "I'm sorry."

She pressed the back of her hand on her nose as she shook her head, "It's not your fault… it's not your fault we never met when we were kids," she hiccupped, "Truthfully, I don't remember you either. The odds are we've never met anyway…" Her tears turned to a sad resting expression, her cheeks s.h.i.+ny with tear streaks that she hadn't wiped away. "It's just… this all makes me angry, so frustrated!" She s.n.a.t.c.hed her hand away from me to viciously wipe at her eyes, "Why did that have to happen to me, Landon? Why?"

I shook my head, "I…" I sighed, "I don't know Bonnie."

"I've lived here since I was six years old! And no one knows this! No one knows that I'm here, that I even exist, because of 'the love of my parents' or 'the worry of my friends.'" She scoffed in disbelief, as if she had heard those words forced on her before, "What friends?! They're all just a bunch of other disabled girls I'm forced to live with so that I feel 'less out of place.'" Her voice started cracking and became croaky, "Out… Out of place? I never even had a place before there was something wrong with me…" By now her sniffs were loud snogs, and she coughed. "I feel gross…" she confessed finally composing herself.

I pushed myself upright, list still in hand as I considered her bucket list. "You know, some of these are doable," I stated. She lifted her head, wiping her nose a final time. "How about we make a compromise, Bonnie?" I started folding the paper and handed it back to her. "You stay at school, and I'll help you finish your basic bucket list."

Bonnie s.n.a.t.c.hed it back, "The point of the list is for me to do them by myself," her voice was hoa.r.s.e now.

"There's no shame in having the occasional hand every now and then," I commented, "I promise I won't interfere unless I'm really needed, and I won't tell anyone about this unless you tell me to. But I help you with this, you go to school, and I won't tell your parents about it." Bonnie's sad eyes turned their usual irritated colour as she visibly bit down on her lips.

"How are you going to find the time to help me finish this?" she quizzed.

"We'll do some of them over the upcoming weekends, some of the simpler ones in the afternoons. We'll find the time to do them," I a.s.sured Bonnie. I held a hand out, "Deal?"

She rolled away from my hand at first, taking a slow moment to pocket her list before considering my hand. "Fine," she grunted, taking my hand.

Her face had yet to soften. "Please, try not to seem so excited about it," I joked poking my tongue at her.

It seemed too soon to get a chuckle out of her as she took back her hand and leaned over the wheelchair to grab the picnic blanket. "This shouldn't be left outside," she dryly stated as she bundled it up on her lap, "I'll see you at dinner."