
1
1:00 PM, Friday
Ian placed his notes back into order as his class shuffled out of the room. He had just given an hour long lecture about the human brain and now his head was starting to hurt. He took a long sip of water from his bottle and then slid his folder into his backpack.
Ian walked down the crowded halls of Weishman College not paying attention to the students around him. His mind was elsewhere.
Pushing open the door to the staffroom, Ian entered and sat down in the nearest couch. He pulled out his computer and decided to finish his outline for the lecture he was giving the next day.
As his hands moved rapidly across the keyboard, the door to the staffroom opened and a tall woman with dark curly hair walked in.
"Hey Turtleman," said Miss Amawanchu. "That was quite the impressive lecture you gave today."
Ian groaned in his head. He hated the name Isabelle had given him, but it was sort of his fault. Everyday he wore turtleneck sweaters to campus and the teachers were constantly joking about it. Anyway, it was better that way. Better to be a turtleman then let them see the scar that had gotten him bullied all throughout grade-school.
"Thank you," Ian said, not looking back up at Isabelle but keeping his focus on his words on the properties of the amygdala.
"What made you want to go into brain science anyway?" Isabelle
asked, obviously trying to keep the conversation going.
"Umm . . . I just thought it was interesting." Ian lied. "And there's a lot that people still don't know about the brain."
Ian didn't feel good about lying, but he knew that the truth, like all the truths about him, was too hard to tell. Ian had actually begun studying the brain to figure out what was wrong with him.
Every night he wouldn't be able to sleep. And then, at exactly 12:45 PM, a scene would flash before his eyes, his scar would hurt, and then he'd fall over, asleep.
He had originally thought it was just a childhood problem. But, once it continued though high school, Ian had started researching any plausible way it could happen and the only answer he found was that it could have something to do with his brain.
So Ian had gone into an in-depth study of the brain and had joined extra classes. Even now he was trying to figure out more about the brain. There could be some hidden part that controlled sleeping. Or his cerebral cortex was sending images to his mind even though he wasn't dreaming, causing his visions.
"I had better get going to my next class," Isabelle said, rubbing a nervous hand over her brown face. "I hope you have a good rest of your day."
"Thank you," said Ian as Isabelle swayed out.
Ian quickly finished his notes and then closed his computer and breathed deeply. Now that he was done with work, what was he going to do? Fridays were always boring. He had no reason to stay on campus, but he didn't know where else he could go.
Ian didn't have any friends to waste time with and the only company he had was his three-legged, white, persian cat named Tullie. Ian had gotten Tullie because she reminded him of himself. Weird with no friends. She had been born without a leg, like Ian had been born with the scar on the back of his neck. Or at least he suspected that.
And Tullie had one blue eye and one green eye, which made her even more different.
As Ian thought of her he realized that he had forgotten to pour her food and water that morning before he had left his apartment.
He stood immediately and raced out to his car. He reached his apartment, which was only five minutes away from the college, and ran up the stairs to the fourth level.
He pulled out his lanyard, which displayed his love for the Arkansas Razorbacks, and unlocked room 199.
The moment he entered he heard a soft hiss and turned to see Tullie gathered up on his sofa, staring at him. Her mismatched eyes pierced the darkness. Ian switched on the lights and Tullie hissed louder.
"I'm so sorry, girl," Ian said, opening the cat cabinet and pulling out a large bag of cat food and Tullie's bowls. He filled the first bowl with food, not forgetting to add her vitamins. Then he went to the sink and added water to the second bowl.
Tullie immediately hopped off the couch once Ian put the bowls on the ground and gobbled up the food. Ian went to sit at his desk and placed his head in his hands.
He checked his watch, 1:45. Ian groaned and went to sit on the couch. His favorite shows didn't come on until six in the afternoon so he had four whole hours to do something.
Ian pulled out his computer and looked at the top headlines in the news that day.
"Lady of 95 Years Wins Lottery"
"The Biggest Breakup of the 21st Century"
"13th Destination Discovered by Scientist Chelsea Adams at P.E.P."
"Arkansas Tornado Leaves Many Shocked"
Ian stopped reading and scrolled back up to the third headline. Chelsea Adams? Could it be? he thought unbelievingly. He pressed the page and read the story.
Lincoln Hast, founder of the Planet Exploration Program (P.E.P.) has recently announced a find made by Junior Scientist Chelsea Adams. Adams has been working with P.E.P. for three years and was the first scientist to discover a new planet in over a decade. PEP has found 12 planets outside the Earth's solar system, which they call the Destinations. Using their high-tech inventions they have found a way to transport to these planets in a matter of days.
And Chelsea is claiming to have found another one with the space probe she built herself. This has been called Destination 13. The female scientist is planning to take a small crew with her as they travel to the planet to see what other resources or life there is there.
Tonight at 8 PM Central Time, Chelsea will be interviewed by Jay Diamond of MPC NEWS.
Ian stopped reading and wished that he could tell Chelsea how proud he was of her. But after their friendship had broken up he couldn't even call her. He knew that she probably had better friends now and they were already congratulating her.
He laid back in his couch and thought of the first time he had met her in Mrs. Gladys' math class.
_________________________________________________________
Young Ian of seven years sat at his desk with his hands around his legs. He pulled up the hoodie he always wore to school to hide that ugly scar.
"Haha! Sticky Scar! Sticky Scar!" jeered a chubby little boy sitting behind him. "Make sure you don't stick your curse on us."
Ian turned around and stared at Adam Stephanie, an eight year
old held back a year for misbehavior. "Please stop," he said, then added. "Or I'm going to tell Mrs. Gladys."
"Tattle tale! Tattle tale!" yelled Adam as other kids joined in and laughed.
"Adam, stop being rude, you wouldn't like it if someone was saying that to you and bullying you," said a small voice from the doorway. Chelsea Adams, a small girl with long brown hair and a pink dress on, walked into the class, giving Adam a serious stare.
"Whatever," said Adam as he slouched into his seat.
During lunch, Chelsea came to sit with Ian and asked, "Not to be rude, but do you know where you got that scar?"
"No," answered Ian. "But why did you help me today?"
"Oh, I can't stand bullies. Don't you think the whole world would
be lovelier without them? But the world is what it is. And my father always says that it doesn't matter how many bad people there are out there. All the Earth needs is just a few good people to stand up for right things."
"I'm Ian," Ian said. "Ian Stickle. But every one here calls me Sticky Scar Boy." Ian frowned at his grilled cheese sandwich.
"What's your middle name?" Chelsea asked. "I always think the best way to get to know someone is to know their middle name."
"Oh, um. It's Robert. Not that cool."
"That's perfectly amazing. My full name is Chelsea Dolores-Alastia-Bela Adams. So I have three middle names. And my mother is Spanish so that is why my skin is darker. I am also seven years old and I love the color pink."
Ian smiled for the first time. This girl was just as weird as him, but a lot more braver.
_________________________________________________________
Ian opened his eyes and found himself still in his apartment with his computer on his lap. He missed the perfect friendship that he and Chelsea had had, even though they had gotten into some fights.
Ian determidley set his jaw and decided that he would go see Chelsea instead of calling her. If he caught a plane to Salt Lake City, Utah, where P.E.P. headquarters was located, then he could possible make it in time for her interview.
Ian ran to his dresser and immediately started packing. He would have to drop Tullie off somewhere. Or he could take her with him. He did have a cat carrier, though Tullie didn't like it that much.
Ian pulled out his phone and clicked the flight app.
He sighed and said to himself, "Ok, you're doing this, Ian. Just one ticket to Salt Lake City. Plus a cat carrier."
He was going to make it, and he was going to apologize so that maybe his and Chelsea's friendship could be fixed and be just like old times.
2
8:00 PM, Friday
Chelsea dusted her face with powder and straightened her bleached hair one last time. She had to look perfect for her interview with the media. Finally, her time had come to be in the spotlight. The thing she had fought so hard for, recognition and fame. This was the opportunity of a lifetime and almost ensured that her name would be in the history books.
"Chelsea Adams," she said to her face in the mirror. "The woman who made the greatest discovery of all time. She found a planet unlike any P.E.P. has ever found. Life and extraterrestrials were found and Chelsea was the first to discover them."
"Already planning your autobiography?" asked a male voice from behind her.
Chelsea turned around, startled. "I didn't know you were here, Adam. I thought your lab job keeps you until ten PM?"
"Actually, I work until twelve PM," said Adam Stephanie who had grown to be a very handsome and strangely kind young man. He patted his clean cut brown hair and smiled. "But they let me off so I can see your interview. I'll be in the audience."
"That actually makes me feel a lot better to know you're watching me." Chelsea rung her hands and her blue eyes were wide. "This is my first time for anything like this. I don't want to mess up and ruin any chance I have of being famous. Ugh, I just feel like a whirlwind of emotions right now, and it's not pleasant."
"Hey, come here Chels." Chelsea walked into Adam's outstretched arms and laid her head on his shoulder. "Everything is going to be ok. Remember when you used to give speeches in middle school about your favorite thing. You were so good at that."
"That's a lot different than this," Chelsea argued, stepping away to look at Adam. "I was talking about pink purses then . . . and you were laughing at me from across the room."
"Oh, right. Back when I was that guy."
"Now I'm talking about scientific space travel, and everyone will just be staring at me, waiting for me to mess up."
"How much longer do you have to practice?"
"An hour. It starts at nine."
"Ok, then I will be your interviewee and you can answer my
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1
1:00 PM, Friday
Ian placed his notes back into order as his class shuffled out of the room. He had just given an hour long lecture about the human brain and now his head was starting to hurt. He took a long sip of water from his bottle and then slid his folder into his backpack.
Ian walked down the crowded halls of Weishman College not paying attention to the students around him. His mind was elsewhere.
Pushing open the door to the staffroom, Ian entered and sat down in the nearest couch. He pulled out his computer and decided to finish his outline for the lecture he was giving the next day.
As his hands moved rapidly across the keyboard, the door to the staffroom opened and a tall woman with dark curly hair walked in.
"Hey Turtleman," said Miss Amawanchu. "That was quite the impressive lecture you gave today."
Ian groaned in his head. He hated the name Isabelle had given him, but it was sort of his fault. Everyday he wore turtleneck sweaters to campus and the teachers were constantly joking about it. Anyway, it was better that way. Better to be a turtleman then let them see the scar that had gotten him bullied all throughout grade-school.
"Thank you," Ian said, not looking back up at Isabelle but keeping his focus on his words on the properties of the amygdala.
"What made you want to go into brain science anyway?" Isabelle
asked, obviously trying to keep the conversation going.
"Umm . . . I just thought it was interesting." Ian lied. "And there's a lot that people still don't know about the brain."
Ian didn't feel good about lying, but he knew that the truth, like all the truths about him, was too hard to tell. Ian had actually begun studying the brain to figure out what was wrong with him.
Every night he wouldn't be able to sleep. And then, at exactly 12:45 PM, a scene would flash before his eyes, his scar would hurt, and then he'd fall over, asleep.
He had originally thought it was just a childhood problem. But, once it continued though high school, Ian had started researching any plausible way it could happen and the only answer he found was that it could have something to do with his brain.
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