Not Yet

January 12, 2009
By Natasa Zoubouridis, Long Grove, IL

"Is it ready yet?" "How should I know? This is all your fault!" She put her head in her
hands and began to weep. They weren't tears of joy as they would have been for an older, married
woman. No, these were tears full of fear and anger as they should have been for a seventeen year old
girl, such as herself. The light pink tile felt cold against her bare feet, and sent shivers up her
spine. She held herself up by using the pink sink for support. She hated this bathroom, now more
than ever before. It was the first time in her seventeen years of life that she ever felt disgusted
by the color surrounding her and her boyfriend of one month. This was truly the last color she
wanted to be looking at. The floor where she had permanently glued her feet was now warming, yet
shivers still ran through her body. As her tired head hung over the sink she was afraid to look up
at tragedy looking back at her in the mirror. Red puffy eyes, nose dripping, the corners of her
mouth permanently slanted downward. She feared to look at herself almost as much as she feared to
look at the little plastic stick, lying peacefully on the counter. "I'm sorry baby" he
whispered in her ear as compassionately as he could. "But how could this be my fault? You're the
one who forced me to wear the stupid thing?!" his tone suddenly changing. "Don't you dare
blame me for this!" she screamed with tears running down her face and disgust in her voice.
"You're the one that broke it!" She wished she could have thought of
something more hurtful to say, but her thoughts were banging against her head, the way the tree
branches were beginning to bang against the window. It had been raining since they got home, but the
wind outside was picking up speed. Along with the branches the rain began to beat harder against the
window. The hairs on the back of her neck started to rise as tiny bumps devoured her body. It was
the hardest rain that either of them had ever seen. "Did you know it was going to rain today?"
she asked with worry in her voice. "What? How would I know that? If you haven't been
paying attention, I'm a little preoccupied making sure I'm not a father. And another"
"Shhhu shhhhut shut up, shut up it's ready!" The trees were now whipping against the house and
the grass was drowning in inches of rain. The thick dark clouds seemed to only be getting darker.
And the TV downstairs had changed from Happy Days to white noise. "What's it say?" "It's
not a radio, it doesn't talk. You have to check the color." she said waving the little
stick in front of his face. "Well sorry, I don't do these very often. Ok?" he replied giving
her a dirty look and trying to push the stick away from his face "Really? I'm surprised because
the way you were talking to your buddies is sure seemed like you've been with plenty of
girls" He stopped listening and she could tell.
She reached to pick up the box from where it lay on the counter. "What was that?" he yelped like
a child. The clouds outside were being crushed together and in what looked like the after effects of
an atomic explosion. But instead of creating a mushroom they had turned into a black funnel and
started moving. The water that was drowning the grass and filling the streets was now being spun and
sucked into the funnel, along with anything in its path. The immense down pour was being lifted and
twirled into the spiral of the clouds. The leafless trees that had been banging against the window
had finally broken their way through, like a felon trying to escape the electric chair. Shattered
glass slid across her face and hands causing her to drop the stick and box. The branches were
fighting their way inside for safety and breaking everything they could. The pink tiled walls were
cracked into sharp jagged edges across the floor. Soap and water sloshed against her feet. Combs,
makeup, hair products, and ceiling chunks spun and banged against the walls. She grabbed her right
cheek where the glass had sliced and felt a sting of pain and rush of warm blood. With her left hand
she felt for her potential baby's father, but he was nowhere to be found. She started to panic and
scream in fear that he had left her alone. As she turned toward the door she tripped over his frozen
body sitting motionless on the floor. Landed on her shoulder more glass had pierce through her skin.
He was holding the little stick in his left hand the green box in his right. "What are you doing?
We have to get out of here and run to the basement!" she screamed trying to be louder than the
roaring wind around them. "Come on we have to go!" she was on her feet now and her survival
instincts were kicking in. She yanked at the door and tried to make an exit but the force of the
wind kept the door shut. "Get up! I need you to help me open the door! Come on we have to go!"
she yelled again this time with desperation in her voice. She started to feel weak and the black
cloud outside was getting closer. She was frozen, wet and bleeding. Her white Sophie shorts stuck to
her legs and her blue tank was drenched. Her hair was dripping and she started to feel alone. As
tears were forming in her eyes she suddenly felt a warm breath on her bleeding shoulder. The wind
had eased, but only because his body had created a little shield. "I'm sorry!" he yelled,
trying to beat out the howl of the storm. "It's ok!" she yelled back looking into his eyes
now. Her body started to warm and the feeling of security came over her. He was beautiful. Rich blue
eyes placed perfectly on a tan muscular face with a dimple chin. His black hair dripping water, that
never quite made it to the ground. He looked into her eyes as well and moved in closer. As he came
forward so did she and so did the tornado. They shared a brief passionate kiss and he forced the
door open with both arms. When half of his body was outside the door he looked into her eyes again.
And again she looked into his smiling face because she knew everything was going to be ok. That once they
made it to the safety of her warm basement they could make love again and the storm would pass and
everything would be as it should. "I'm sorry!" he yelled again as he pushed the door open a
few more inches and jerked the rest of his body out the bathroom and closed the door behind him,
leaving her inside. "What are you doing?!" she screamed in terror. "Open the door! What are
you doing?!" Screaming in squeals, punching, kicking, and yanking at the door till her hands bled
and her voice gave out. The tornado that was once down the block was now only a few houses away. She
felt as if she heard the basement door slam full force causing her to lose her breath. She felt a
pain in her chest and lost all feeling in her limbs. She slid her back down the door and sat on the
cold, wet demented light pink tiled floor. Next to her lay a little plastic stick. She picked it up,
turned it over, dropped it and laid her head in her hands. The tornado was now next door and moving
closer and the little pink plastic stick got pulled into it, just as she did.

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This article has 1 comment.

dolkio BRONZE said...
on May. 31 2010 at 8:05 pm
dolkio BRONZE, El Paso, Texas
3 articles 0 photos 12 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Sometimes i like to put up walls to see if anyone even cares to break them down."

i like it. it's very emotional.

Parkland Book