Rarity Read online

  Rarity

  by: D.A. Roach

  Copyright© 2014

  D.A. Roach

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the author, except a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  Thanks:

  I want to thank my husband for holding me up when I was overwhelmed and for his constant support and undying love. You’re amazing!

  -My mom and her amazing friends for their support and donations to this rare cause.

  - Nazli McDonnell for allowing me to add your character at an important part of the story and for being the outstanding scientist and caregiver that you are.

  -Dr. Hal Dietz and Dr. James Black for saving so many lives and working hard for a brighter future for vEDSers

  -Lynn Sanders for creating an organization, EDS C.A.R.E.S. Network, that donates all of it’s money toward research.

  -EDNF for providing such amazing literature to educate families and physicians about Ehlers Danlos Syndrome.

  -My editor, for willingly taking on another one of my tales, and finding my errors

  Special thanks to Cathy Bowen for providing guidance and love, as well as the information and photo/poster about vEDS at the back of this book which was taken from:

  EDS Nosology

  http://www.ednf.org/nosology

  http://www.genetikzentrum.ch/view/userfiles/files/Diagnostic_Criteria_EDS_IV(1).pdf

  http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK1494/

  COL3A1 collagen, type III, alpha 1

  www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/gene/1281

  (Superti-Furga et al. 1992)

  www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/1506129

  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sack-Barabas_syndrome

  This book is dedicated to our vEDS online family. You rock. I hope you all live well into your 80’s!

  Cover photo courtesy of © LJ Portrait

  Cover art by D.A. Roach

  Definition of Rarity courtesy of Oxford Dictionary online

  Edited by: M. Galles

  rarity

  Syllabification: rar·i·ty

  A thing that is rare, especially one having particular value as a result of this.

  Chapter 1

  I often wondered if things happened by coincidence? Or maybe we were just pawns in some master plan that was out of our control? I remembered watching Clash of the Titans as a kid, where the Gods and Goddesses would move these statues of the people on Earth around to encourage events to happen. It’s all mythology...right? Lately my life had too many coincidences to ignore, and I was starting to feel like I had a small part in a grand plan. Or maybe this stupid “gift” was making me crazy.

  Empathy and Premonition, they called these gifts. Personally, I never asked for them and would prefer a new car, or a vacation in Europe to these “gifts”. I found myself digging up half the plants in the yard and redesigning the flower beds twice a month. It’s the best way to release all of the emotion that attached itself to me. Hands in the dirt. This particular week was heavy with emotion - too many ridiculous customers and their negativity. I knew I’d hurt later, as the sun had been beating upon my shoulders for hours, but I couldn’t stop till I found my calm and recentered myself. Even though there were others in the world with these gifts, the only other one I met was my mom.

  I planted the final Zinnia and replaced the stone edging so my mom wouldn’t freak about her grass being matted by the stone. After cleaning up my garden tools, I hosed off my hands.

  “You know, they make garden gloves so you don’t get so messy.”

  I looked up and saw my one friend, the only teenager I could tolerate being around for extended periods of time, Meg.

  “You know Meg, a little dirt never hurt anyone. You should try it sometime,” I teased.

  “Nah. I’ll leave the gardening to you my little white witch.”

  I turned the hose on Meg to even the score. She tried to deflect but the hose always wins.

  “Hey! Enough, enough, truce!”

  I shut the hose off and we laughed at how awful we both looked. This was why I liked Meg. She could roll with the punches, she wasn’t pretentious, and she was honest and true. I could overlook her quirkiness and insane obsession with stuffed animals, because what mattered to me was what was deep inside her.

  “So, tomorrow is the start of our junior year. Let’s celebrate our last night of freedom by having dinner and a movie,” Meg suggested.

  “I pick the pizza place and you pick the movie,” I added.

  “Deal.” Meg practically lived at our house so she knew how to operate our complicated tv set up. “Brogan, don’t you dare put onions on my half!”

  I just smiled back. Of course I wouldn’t put the one topping she hated on the pizza, but she’d have to wait 45 minutes to find out.

  After I placed the order we grabbed some drinks and found cozy spots on the big comfy sofa. I grabbed an afghan and pulled it around me.

  “Why do you need a blanket? It’s like 95F out there, just turn down your air!”

  “Never, I’d rather be cold with a blanket than sweating. What did you pick?”

  Meg started up the movie, “Oh my...prepare for laughfest!” She had put in our favorite movie, Clerks II. Raunchy, inappropriate, but hysterical.

  When the movie ended we cleaned up the pizza party. “My sides hurt from all the laughing,” I said. “But, great pick. I needed that after my week.”

  “I bet you’re glad to be done with that retail hell you worked this summer,” Meg said.

  “You have no idea.” I worked at a bookstore to make some extra cash over the summer. I thought it was a good choice, people who read seemed calm, and I hoped I would not take home a lot of negative energy. But...people are people and most people had very little patience.

  “I felt so bad for our cashier. This woman was waiting to check out and was third in line. When it was finally her turn I could sense her going black...you know, like evil was seeping out of her. She started asking for this book she had reserved and her words were all clipped and loud. Poor Jen didn’t have a clue what the woman was talking about. The woman berated Jen in front of the other customers and then left without buying anything and swearing we were a shop of idiots. Turns out, she had called and reserved the book at the store across town.”

  “Psycho. No wonder you were in the garden.” Meg was open enough to understand the emotional toll events like that took on me. She knew that just being near people like that would cause their negative energy to attach to me. The negativity was like someone berating ME for hours afterward, taking a long time to shake off. Empaths found ways to dispel the energy, I happened to find gardening, digging in the dirt with my bare hands, worked best for me. “Feel better now?”

  Apparently laughter helped too. I answered, “A million times better.”

  “Are you ready for tomorrow?” Meg asked. Summer had ended and our junior year started tomorrow.

  “As ready as ever.” Neither of us loved school. We were our own little clique and steered clear of the big groups. I met Meg in 7th grade gym and we meshed instantly. She’d been my rock ever since that day. Having her around made everything, including school, more tolerable. I glanced at the clock above the tv, 10:30PM. “You better get out of here or you’ll never wake up on time.” Meg was a night owl but she struggled with timeliness, especially early in the morning. We hugged and she headed for home.

  Chapter 2

  Stanton High. It was its own little community within our small town. We had geeks, skaters, punks, emos, jocks, preppy kids, gorgeous girls, and a small sprinkling of ki
ds that didn’t fit any of those descriptions. Meg and I were part of that small group. Our town was small and the school was nestled in the center of it. Most kids walked or rode their bikes to school, and the few kids that drove their own cars did so to show off their wealth.

  “Well Brogen, two more years of this place, then we’re free.” Meg winked at me and we went our separate ways for our first class. Mr. Johnson’s Algebra class held mostly familiar faces. At this stage in our school careers they didn’t take the time to announce or introduce the new students. We had two new faces in the class, a boy and a girl. When Mr. Johnson took roll I discovered the boy was named Jay and the girl was named Becca. Becca looked like she would fit right in with the gorgeous girl click. She looked like she spent 4 hours applying makeup and placing each of her golden locks in it’s perfect position this morning. Jay was harder to place. He was thin, tall, not overly muscular - but he was fit, probably not a jock. He wore jeans and a t-shirt which could put him in several groups. His hair was a little messy, ruling out preppy and geek - but not messy enough for skater or emo. Maybe he would migrate to the small group that Meg and I were in.

  Because of my “gift” I was very intrigued with people and tried to tune into their energies. Once I figured them out - there was less of a pull toward them. Actually, I often steered clear of most of them. So Jay was my new assignment. My brain would be dissecting his movements, social interactions, wardrobe choices, and on and on till I figured him out.

  Mr. Johnson passed out our syllabus and said most of the learning would be online this year. He must have gotten a salary cut or was getting too old to care about actually teaching us something. He dismissed us with no homework, at least that was a bonus.

  After three more classes, it was lunchtime. I sat at the table Meg and I claimed last year. There were four or five others that sat there but we never intermixed with them. Meg dropped her tray on the table next to me. I looked at her tray in disgust, “How can you eat that stuff? What is it anyway...turkey surprise? ‘Surprise, there’s no turkey in it!’” I giggled while pinching my nose. “Have fun eating that...I hear it tastes better when you puke it up,” I said before busting out laughing.

  “Shut up. Someone kept me out late last night and I was too tired to pack something edible. I have to eat or I’ll sleep through my last 3 classes.”

  “At least I can pinch you awake in two of them,” I teased.

  “No joke. Finally we have a few classes together. I can’t believe we endured freshman and sophomore year with no classes together,” Meg said. “Oh hey, did you see the new kid over there?” Meg pointed out Jay who sat at a circular table across the room. He seemed quite chummy with one of the nicer kids at Stanton, Soren Michaels.

  “Yeah, I had him in first period. I think his name is Jay. Do you know anything about him?”

  “He was in my chemistry class last period. He seemed pretty nice. Funny actually. Anyway, kinda cute, right?” Meg looked across the lunch room with a dreamy look on her face, I couldn’t help but chuckle.

  I looked at Jay for a few moments. He was exotic model look, big eyes, straight dark hair, lean, and tall... strong features. He looked up and caught my eye at that moment. His mouth twisted into a half smile. I felt myself blushing, surely he wasn’t directing that smile my way. I turned to and refocused, “Meg, I think it’s the new shiny toy. Just because it’s new doesn’t make it more awesome than the other toys.”

  “Your loss….more for me.” I peered over at his table again. He was still looking at me. I looked behind me but there was just a wall. When I looked back he was enthralled in something Soren had said. I took a deep breath to cool myself down.

  “God, wouldn’t that suck? Changing schools junior year.” I shook my head in astonishment. “I wouldn’t want to do that. I wonder if he runs with Soren - they seem pretty tight.” I looked over again and he was getting up from the table. “Which clique do you think will absorb him?”

  “Whatever. Just appreciate the attractive specimen added to our little fish bowl.” Meg nudged me.

  After lunch we finished the day. It was so nice having Meg in my classes. I was bummed that I had homework on the one night this month that my mom didn’t have evening patients.

  I walked up our front steps and unlocked the front door. Mom said she was going to make an amazing dinner for celebrating the first day of school. The aromas that filled the house made my stomach growl. Mom was making some of her famous lasagna and was busy putting a salad together. “How’d school go?” she asked.

  “It was uninteresting. I hate that they give us homework on the first day. We haven’t even learned anything yet.”

  “That does seem unfair. Sorry Brogen. Do you have a lot to do?”

  “No, I should quit complaining, it’s the principle of it that bugs me.”

  Mom just chuckled at my rant. “How are you feeling?” Having a psychologist as a mom made me wonder if she was in doctor mode or mom mode.

  “Fine. Not overwhelmed. The day was pretty uneventful.” My mom was empathic like me, but she could turn it on and off. She would never be able to be a psychologist without that ability. She had sympathy for me because she wasn’t always able to turn it off and remembers how dark the days could be if you absorbed someone’s negativity or emotional pain.

  “Good, are you doing your exercises?” she asked.

  “Which ones? The physical or mental?”

  “Both.”

  “I’ll do them after supper.” Mom was teaching me how to turn off my empathy, strengthen who I was on the inside and out, and how to dispel any energy that lingered. Hopefully one day I could stop avoiding situations that were too draining for me.

  Dinner was delicious. Once I finished the dishes, I changed into my workout clothes. I quickly finished my English Lit. homework and then sat down on my bedroom floor and lit a candle. I wasn’t into magic, though an outsider might wonder. The candle was a tool to help me focus. I stared at it, steadied my breathing and tried to slow my heart rate down. I focused on each breath leaving and entering my body and felt the tension in my shoulders lifting. After twenty minutes my phone alarm chimed. I blew out the candle and stretched in preparation of my run. I tied my laces and put my headphones on before heading out the door.

  I ran at least 5 days a week and I usually ran till my mind was free from the day. I usually kept a steady pace till I felt the calm of nothingness take over, then I would sprint home to get my heart rate up. Running at dusk made everything more peaceful. The sun was going down - painting the sky with various colors now that the heat of the day was gone. It was my favorite time of day.

  After my run, I stretched out in the front yard. I needed a moment to cool off and calm my breathing. With the meditation and the run under my belt, I felt a million times lighter. Once inside I headed for a shower and looked forward to getting into my tank and sleep pants.and settling into the YA book I had started. Mom was watching some shows she had recorded and waved as I passed her. She seemed more at ease now that time had healed her wounds. My father’s affair had destroyed our family and although I hated being without both parents, I hated my father’s selfishness and what it did to my mom way more. Maybe she would get lucky enough to find someone deserving of her affection. I stomped up the wood steps and grabbed my pjs and hit the shower.

  Before bed, I did my last daily ritual, I drew in my sketchbook. Since my dad exited our lives, I began sketching and I promised myself I would not look back at them till I filled the book, cover to cover. I dated the top corner of the page and got out my pencil. I never paid much attention to what I drew - usually there were some pictures and words on a page that resembled what I felt inside. Once I finished, I stashed the sketchbook under my nightstand and grabbed my new novel. Before I knew it, I felt mom kiss my forehead and set my book down while whispering, “goodnight.”

  Chapter 3

  With the first week coming to a close, it was evident that Becca was officially in the gorgeous
girls clique. The clique, aka Blonde-squad, was beginning to warm up to her and Becca was quickly showing she was not the sweet innocent girl she first appeared to be. I overheard some of the football players in the hall behind me, “Did you see how she was licking that lollipop? I’d like to have her lick MY lollipop.” Eye roll. Did all high school guys think with their dicks? They could have her, I didn’t want some shallow guy like that as a boyfriend - probably would end up having affairs on their women, like my dad did.

  I still hadn’t figured out Jay. His cousin, Soren, was a likable guy. He joked around with people in all groups and never seemed to get in the mix of any conflict. He ran track and seemed decently smart. He would have been a great catch, but he wasn’t my type. He had dark, curly hair, olive skin coloring, was a tad short, and he was a die hard country music fan. I was attracted to tall, trim, smart guys, that liked anything BUT country music. Today, Jay had on a Def Leppard t-shirt with his worn jeans. I could do Def Leppard, a bit old school, but cool. What the heck was I talking about. I couldn’t think like that. I’d never attract him. He’s gorgeous AND the new shiny thing. Every girl wanted him and it would probably be someone like Becca who landed him. She had the looks and the social standing.