A Portal to Leya Read Free

thinking
at this point. I’m drowning in confusion. If confusion were water I’d be dead
right now. Dorrie returned with this oversized mug of tea. She looked at me in
her obnoxiously curious way. I could have told her about the news. The old me
would have said something. I didn’t say anything. Why should I waste my time?
People are merely stick figures to me, or animated robots moving in and out of
spaces. I see them down to their smallest parts, down to the molecules, the
atoms, the energy and vibrations. It’s all about the waves.
    Lance
    COMMENTS
    2cents yep, I think it was him. Neal Lourdes is a criminal. I know it was him. I know
it. I caught him standing next to my Mom’s bureau. He claimed he was using the
bathroom. He pawned that ring. It was worth a few grand.
    @2cents Who are you? Where do you live? Do you live in town?
    2cents Like
I said (previous post) we moved to Florida last year. Neal was a punk then. I’m
sure he hasn’t changed much. He used to hit me hard as hell for no reason and
the say “just playin' dude” I hate that. I hate when some punk like Neal messes
with you and then says “just playin'.”
    SCHOOL
SUCKS
    I hate the word sucks.
I learned that word in middle school. No wonder. That’s when the fun ends, the
recess, the holiday parties; that’s when you learn, really learn, that school
is mainly an initiation into some dull routine of work and you better be
prepared. If you’re not, you fail. Waking up is painful. Dorrie has about four
different kinds of food prepared just to get me to eat. I mean, who goes to
those extremes for anyone? I wouldn’t. I take that back. Maybe I would for Leya.
But food is inconsequential at this point. And did I mention I despise school?
It makes no sense— the getting up; the going there; the sitting at a desk in a
classroom with lame inspirational posters on the walls; the listening to a
teacher drone on ENDLESSLY. I force myself to move, to get there. I arrive in
body only. I shuffle from class to class, zoned out. Here’s what I know about
school: If you pretend to listen and make an effort, and keep your mouth shut,
no one notices you; it’s easy to be invisible in school. That’s why there are
so many egocentric jerks in school; they just want to be noticed.
    I kept busy thinking
today that Neal could have done it. Neal was a brute, a bully. He definitely
bullied Leya. I know that. Undoubtedly, he was a complete ass. But I never
thought murder was in the cards. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe he had rage
and it just blew out like a negative blast. I mean it does happen—not that I
would know. I keep my anger in check. But I’ve read about it enough times. You
know the psycho student who suddenly goes postal and fires rounds in the
cafeteria. Overall, despite being spared psycho shooters, school was a horror.
It was utter horror. I had to pretend to be human, normal, the old me. Not that
I was ever really normal.  But at least then I could focus. Now, I can't get a
straight thought in my head. And to add insult to injury (Dorrie saying) I am no
longer able to remain invisible; I’m assaulted by students begging to hear
about it, to be near me, talk to me. It's as if I am part of it, this whole
sick murder. I hate how they think it’s so important in a gross sort of way.
    On another note: I thought I smelled Leya. I really
did. She always smelled so amazing. “Why do you always smell so good?” I asked
her one time. She said I was crazy. She laughed when she said it. I think she
liked me more than a friend. I wish I had kissed her.
    Lance
    COMMENTS
    Susanne Lance,
you should know I was searching news articles. I talked to detectives
yesterday. They took my computer after I told them about emails from Leya. But
I printed off most of the emails first. I want to keep them. This one was
written the day before the dance. It is so unbearable, I know. I can’t stop
crying.
    Suz!
    I
can't tell you how mad I am at ykw. I can’t even say his