[[Second Runner-Up in the 2016 Hub City Teen Writers Contest]]
Honestly, the fantasies in my head are far more interesting than real life. Though to be fair, I spend more of my time in them than I do the real world. Like right now, even as I sit in the orthodontist waiting room, I am also in another land with Sir Connor, my best friend and constant companion. Quite possibly my only friend.
My mother interrupts my musing. “Are you nervous?” I can hear the tension in her voice. “Not really,” I say. As I’ve never seen braces before, I’m not entirely sure what they are. And it’s rather difficult to fear something when you don’t know what you’re supposed to be afraid of. “Are you sure?” she insists, and Connor and I both laugh.
“I’m sure, Mom. Trust me, I’ll be fine.” I was more nervous during my first appointment, when I wasn’t entirely sure how the orthodontist would react to my vision impairment. When I was afraid he would treat me like the last one, who had acted as though I was less than human. I fiddle with my cane as Mom continues rambling. “I know it’ll be uncomfortable at first, but you’ll grow used to them. And it’s only for a few years at most.” “You sound more nervous that I am.”
“It’s a mother’s job to worry,” she says. Feeling rather bad, I hold my hand out. She takes it and gives it a squeeze. “But I’m sure it will be fine. Most people have to get braces.” “I’m sure it will be too,” I say. We sit in silence for a few minutes, and I let myself draw into Connor’s world. I hear whispers and feel my mother bristle, but I ignore it all. I’m used to it. They follow my everywhere. After all, a blind blue-haired fourteen-year-old girl is bound to seem out-of-place. But I have grown accustomed to it, and so I pay no attention until I feel a tap on my shoulder. “Why is your hair blue if you can’t see it?” The voice is a young one, maybe five years old. Though it takes me out of Connor’s world, I am not irritated. I enjoy making up silly reasons for children. So I lean toward her and lower my voice. “It’s because that ridiculous dragon made it so.” “What? How could a dragon turn your hair blue?” She sounds confused. “It’s a really long story,” I sigh. I lean back I my chair. “I’m not sure you’d want to hear it.” “Oh, yes I do!” Without any warning, I feel her crawl onto my lap. Mom’s grip on my hand tightens. “Larina…”she says quietly. But I pull away to hold the young girl.
“If you insist,” I say. “Last year I was battling a dragon with my good friend Sir Connor the knight. The nasty thing had stolen all of the chocolate chip cookies in the town, which of course made everyone very upset. So we got on the back of Connor’s horse and rode to the dragon’s castle.” “The dragon lived in a castle?” she asks.
“Why, of course it did! I laugh. “Where else would a dragon live? Anyway, we rode to his castle and knocked on the door. The dragon itself didn’t answer, it was much too busy for that. But a little girl, maybe five years old, answered instead. Her voice was soft and sweet like a light breeze, and I instantly took a liking to her. As did Sir Connor, of course. She asked what we were there for and I told her of our problem. She seemed greatly troubled, saying the dragon was a good master and he would never dream of doing such a thing without reason. So she led us inside and we found ourselves in an audience with a dragon.”
“Wow!” she says in awe, and Connor squeezes my hand. I squeeze his back and continue weaving my tale.
“The dragon’s voice was loud and booming, and Sir Connor informed me he took up half the room. At first we tried being diplomatic, and carefully explained exactly what the problem was. The dragon did not seem troubled one bit, claiming the cookies were now rightfully his. We tried again, but he could not be moved. I felt Connor stiffen at my side, and before I could react, he was challenging the dragon to a duel! They went at it for a minute until I realized the room was beginning to grow very hot. I jumped on Connor, avoiding his sword, and saved him from the scorch of the dragon’s flame. I began to grow angry, and would you like to know what that means?” There’s a pause, and I feel her nod. I lower my voice to a whisper. “It activates my magic. All blind people have it, you know.”
“Really?”
“Yep,” I say. “But unfortunately it comes with dreadful side effects. Being angry, I did not fully think through my actions. And so I cast a spell that would make the beast the size of a kitten. But it also turned my hair blue.”
Before I can tell her what happened next, we are interrupted. “Helen, Dr. Yoon is ready to see you.” “Well, that’s my sister. I better go,” the girl says, and she wiggles off my lap. She pauses. “Did that really happen?”
“Sort of,” I admit. “Sir Connor is real to me, but maybe not anyone else. And I dyed my hair blue so people would stop asking about my blindness.”
“Oh.” She considers it. “You should write a book.”
“A book?” I repeat. “Why?”
“Because you’d be good at it,” she says. “I know some of my friends would want to hear stories about what it’s like to be blind.” And she walks away, leaving Mom squeezing one hand and Connor the other. I am alone with my thoughts once again, and I think maybe not everyone is all that bad.