Marianne stood in the doorway and sighed. The faint smell of incense drifting from the chapel blended with the combination of Bath and Body Works, Axe body spray, and teenage hormones wafting from the classroom. The laughter and high-pitched squeals came to a deadening stop ad Marianne slowly made her way to her desk, her eyes shifted downwards, focused on her patent-leather Mary-Jane’s. Her grandmother was appalled when Nellie originally picked them. “Those shoes are so shiny boys could look up your skirt!” she exclaimed. “That’s a bit ridiculous, Mother. I think she looks lovely,” her father replied. Nellie always got her way when it came to their father. Marianne, however, was provided her hand-me downs. By the time she acquired the Mary-Jane’s they had enough scuff marks for her grandmother’s argument to be moot.
Marianne’s stomach churned with anxiety and her palms began to sweat as she took her seat. She could feel every eye on her as she leaned down to remove her pencil, calculator, and notebook. As she bent over, this action caused the gas bubble that had been building up inside of her to release with a slow and audible brrrraaaaaap. Marianne froze as she realized what had occurred. The snickering started from the back of the room and soon amplified into stereo as the entire room of teenagers erupted into laughter. Marianne face matched the crimson of her uniform as she sunk low into her chair.
“Nice one Batman!” came the voice from the seat beside her. She turned and glared at it’s owner. Several years prior, Marianne’s PE class was playing tee-ball. Athleticism, or anything involving coordination was not Marianne’s strong suit. When it came her turn to swing, she surprisingly made contact with the ball, but also released the bat in the process, sending it flying and hitting the teacher. The students cheered, and this of course became the top news story in elementary school that day, which and earned her the nickname Batman. Most of the students returned to calling her Annie after a few weeks. Not James though, he continued to use the moniker much to Marianne’s chagrin.
At this moment however, Marianne was also grateful that something had eased the tension in the room, even if it was embarrassing. The class quieted as Ms. Yamamoto entered. She was a petite woman with a stern face and kind eyes that could shoot daggers when occasion called for it. She glided to the front of the class, her head remaining perfectly even despite the 3 inch heels on her maroon suede boots.
“Welcome back Miss Gallagher. I trust you’ve been keeping up on assignments?” Ms. Yamamoto preached the importance of daily Algebra. “As essential to existence as water” she would say. Marianne nodded as her teacher placed a paper in front of her.
The pit in Marianne’s stomach grew as she looked down at her quiz and saw the dreaded phrase “show your work.” Marianne didn’t hate Algebra, she loved it in fact. Every problem was like solving a new mystery. Every number had it’s own personality, 9 was of course the arrogant alpha-male, 8 was the the beautiful but aloof femme fatale, and 7 was the cunning rogue, always trying to swoop in and keep things exciting. Marianne composed stories in her head as her characters interacted, switching allegiances in the search for the elusive X. Marianne was great at finding the right answer, but she struggled to map it out on paper, and of course properly showing her work was worth half the grade. She sighed as she joined her fellow students banging on their calculators and scribbling on their papers.
As the day dragged on, Marianne’s mind drifted back to the mysterious island, and what she saw in the water the afternoon of May 1st. The bright flash of light that looked like a doorway opening, the music and voices that seemed to be coming from within, the faint smell of honeysuckle. It took all the attention she could muster to finish classes that day, anxiously awaiting the trip she had planned with Lee after school. She was halfway out the door when the final bell rang.
“Hey Batman! Wait up!” yelled the voice behind her as he scrambled to catch up. James was a slight boy with strawberry-blonde hair and hazel eyes that peered out from a sea of freckles. James was Marianne’s oldest friend, though the friendship had been forced upon them, as James’s mother, Jane, was a frequent babysitter when she was growing up. As they grew older Jane began working at the general store. Their families remained close, so James and Marianne didn’t have much choice but to be friends.
“I know, I know, you’re all gassed up and ready to get tootin'” James said as he caught up to her. Marianne sighed and rolled her eyes.
In addition to bad puns, James was partial to computers and fantasy role-play games. He regularly wore t-shirts with obscure gaming references few people in their small town understood. As kids, James and Marianne often pretended to fight dragons and cast spells in the woods behind his house. Nellie would join them occasionally, playing the damsel in distress or a magical princess. Marianne preferred to be the wild huntress, and James would be the architect. He designed and built a tree fort with a wide array of traps and weapons using a various combination of ropes and pulleys. “Ropes and pulleys can build anything!” he would proclaim. As she grew older, Nellie got bored and stopped playing. Eventually Marianne and James stopped as well, James instead turning to computer and board games to digitally construct his fantastic creations.
“I’m not going home today” Marianne replied to James.
“What are you doing?” James inquired.
Marianne hesitated. She desperately wanted to tell James about the mysterious island and her plans to sail out there after school but, for now, she felt the need to keep it secret.
“I’m meeting a friend” she sputtered, awkwardly.
“Who?” he persisted
“Just… somebody… it doesn’t matter.”
“Can I come?”
Marianne again hesitated, trying to think up an excuse when the purr of a motorcycle interrupted her thoughts. Marianne’s heart raced as the green and white vintage BMW headed towards them and stopped in front of her. The owner, still straddling the bike, with one leather boot on the ground, removed his helmet to reveal Lee, with wild windswept hair and his dashing face alive and radiant.
“Hey kid!” Lee smiled brightly at James, then turned to Marianne, “I have some errands to run, so I can’t go out right now but I’ll take you out after dinner I promise.”
Marianne’s heart sank as he drove off, knowing she had several more hours to get through before she could continue her quest for answers. Meanwhile James was staring at her, quizzically.
“What are you doing Marianne? What are you hiding from me?” he pleaded. To his knowledge, Marianne had never kept a secret from him before.
Hearing her full name, especially from James felt strange and distant. She acquiesced, and pulled the postcard out of her bag. She told him about the mysterious island that seemed to appear one day without anyone noticing. James was unusually silent as she she described the bright doorway, the music and voices that filled the air for a brief moment before suddenly disappearing again. She told him about the strange conversation she overheard between her father and aunt. As she finished James continued to stare at her, dumbfounded.
“Do I seem delusional?” she asked, after a moment of awkward silence.
“I’m going with you” he declared.
“James you really shouldn’t…” Marianne protested.
“If you actually think for one minute that you’re going to go one some adventure to a mysterious island without me, then you really are delusional” he smirked. “Besides, you need me” he persisted “I’m the only one who knows how to use this” he continued as he pulled a strange bronze object out of his pocket.