Out Of This World

By Hazen Rolette

Two completely alienated but brilliant teen girls, Torka Reaton and Clare Lebamenie, desperately want to escape their mundane lives in a straight-laced California city. OOTW follows the girls’ outrageous and occasionally hilarious quest to find social acceptance as high school graduation rapidly approaches and nothing- money, a job, friends, or a boyfriend- seems to be on the horizon. Torka and Clare must deal with increasing family turbulence and fend off a rumor that threaten to stall their plans, all the while quoting lines from an irreverent radio show and piecing together clues to solve a pressing mystery. As Clare's entrepreneurial venture takes off, and her sister insists that she will do whatever it takes to rise above the bottom, Torka realizes that she needs to make the ultimate choice- before everyone she knows speeds by her toward something better. (Note: some of the lingo is new to the world and may seem strange, so if you are confused by it please go to my website or social media for more details.)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hazen Rolette
• Release date: Feb 25, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370834464

Hazen Rolette

I am a writer of comedic, honest and occasionally offensive poetry, New Adult and Young Adult fiction. Writing has been one of the driving forces in my life- something to look forward to the next day- since I first picked up a pen at age eight. I also enjoy reading and besides trying to catch up on my 1001 books to read before you die list, I like to dive into any non-fiction topic. Especially I read about science- astronomy, geology, medicine and biology. In fact, I am currently pursuing a Biology degree at a California State University. In my downtime I paint, make jewelry, write music, learn new languages and watch comedies online. I plan on one day becoming a philanthropist and also restoring natural habitats both locally and globally.

Book preview

Out Of This World

Copyright 2018 Hazen Rolette. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be copied or reprinted for sale without prior permission from the author.

From the author:

For more information about the book, including explanations of the lingo and pronunciations, visit my website at www.hazenrolette.com, find me on social media or send me a message on book retail sites. I hope you enjoy the book as well as the next installments in the series to come!

Hazen Rolette

Table of Contents

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1

Meow!

The sound pierced the hazy quiet of the room and jolted sixteen-year-old Torka Reaton out of the comfort of half-sleep. It was nearly seven a.m. on January thirtieth, her first day of the spring semester at Heowcruise High School. She tossed and turned in bed for a few moments before she sluggishly sat up and looked around, trying to figure out from where the noise came. She had no idea why there would be a cat in her bedroom, but maybe one of her eighteen-year-old sister Jessica's cats sneaked indoors somehow.

Torka rolled out of her bed and crawled on all fours around the floor of her room. She heard another meow, more insistent this time. She knew that she would get in trouble if her mother discovered that she was concealing a cat in her room, for they were only allowed inside at their late afternoon feeding time. She also knew that both her mother and sister were light sleepers. Hush, she willed the cat, and looked for something to lure it out from wherever it was hiding. She spied a plate on her desk that held several slightly stale crackers from last night’s snack and set it on the floor. I’m not supposed to eat in here either, she thought. It would be better to eliminate the evidence. She yawned and waited as the minutes ticked by, but no further sounds issued from the recesses around her.

Now Torka looked frantically through the whole room- behind her dresser, in her closet, even inside her clothes hamper, but there was nothing. Suddenly her alarm clock went off in what seemed like its own cry for attention. She rushed over to her nightstand and hit the button that was supposed to stop the offending noise. That did not work so she reached for the plug to silence the unit, but when she touched the outlet she received an electric burst.

Ow, she thought. What did I ever do to you?

In disgust, she picked up the unit and yanked its cord out of the wall in one swift motion, carried it to the upstairs bathroom and threw it into the toilet. She spazzed and hit flush, using the plunger to force the clock down the pipe. She jumped back and fell on her behind as the toilet overflowed, spilling foul water across the tile floor.

Torka, hurry up! We're going to be late!

It was Torka's sister, Jessica, calling from the hallway that connected their bedrooms. She worked full-time as a waitress at Tommy’s, a 1950s-themed restaurant nearby, and needed to arrive there by eight a.m. Just then she heard the splashing water and came over to the bathroom door.

Mah, is everything okay in there?

Muah, I'm fine or whatever. I'm takine a bath, Torka shouted.

She tried to grab the plunger out of the toilet without touching the wet end. After several attempts she pulled it out but slid about six feet across the floor on her butt, hitting her head on the shower door and passing out momentarily. When she became conscious again, she looked up just in time to see a furry gray blur dash through the door her sister had left ajar and into the hall.

Oh my god! MUAUHAHHGH! she screamed and tore out of her room. She ran all the way downstairs without realizing that she was still holding the plunger.

Are you ready? Jessica said. She walked briskly outside and climbed into her ’93 Oldsmobile. Almost immediately, she noticed Torka’s unusual accoutrement. Why are you dragging a smelly plunger to school?!

You mean this? Umm, because I thought maybe the toilet would plug up when I got there. They have really low water pressure. You never know!

Torka tried to mask her embarrassment as she darted inside, returned the plunger to their shared bathroom and slipped into the car again. Jessica rolled her eyes. She pressed the gas pedal halfway down and they peeled out through a pile of leaves.

Mah, did you see your cat? Torka said quietly. I think she was upstairs.

What? No, she wasn’t, Jessica said. I never let them inside in the morning.

Of course, she doesn’t believe me, Torka thought. Can you pick me up after school?

Um, yeah. Just so you know, I have an appointment for a facial at five. I really need an exfoliation, so don’t be late and make me miss it.

Torka said goodbye when they arrived at the high school and walked away across the spacious campus. She skirted its tall new buildings and enjoyed the mild weather so typical of late winter in the Northern California lowlands. That morning, for instance, it was fifty-five degrees and partly sunny. Heowcruise was located about an hour’s drive from both the Pacific Ocean to the west and the lofty Sierra Nevada with its crown jewel Lake Tahoe to the east. Torka often daydreamed about visiting these majestic places. The ocean was obscured by the low, oak-dappled Coast Ranges and frequently blanketed by layers of fog. The mountains were often not visible because of air pollution over the Valley, but she could see their snowy outlines clearly after a storm or on a windy day. If only I could get there, she thought, or find someone who wants to go too.

Not that the landscape in her neighborhood did not hold a certain well-trampled beauty. She thought, It’s just that it’s so familiar.

Suddenly something wrenched Torka out of her pleasant stupor. She realized that she had forgotten her backpack on the living room sofa. Without it, there was no way she could remember what her classes were. She almost wished she could just not retrieve it, but it carried far too many things she considered necessary for continuing good hygiene- not to mention sanity. She could never be like those teen beows who only carried one sheet of paper, a pencil and their phone. There was no way that they would be passing a test without taking notes, she was sure of that.

Torka forced herself to walk home, which took over half a period since she and her family lived close to the west edge of town. My mother says the reason why she chose to live so far away from everything is because the sun sets last on us there, she thought. But it’s days like this that remind me how peripheral I really am.

At nine thirty a.m., she finally returned to school and tried to figure out where to go.

Muah, this is so perverted!

American Literature was her second period class, according to the somewhat crumped piece of paper that showed her school schedule. She waddled toward the four-story building and burst into the room. She dumped her bag on the floor next to an empty desk and tried to look innocent because she knew she had interrupted everyone’s banter.

Who are you? the teacher demanded. And why are you so late?

Who, me? Torka said.

Yes, you. Who did you think I was talking to? The wet stain on the front of your sweater?

The students laughed. Torka turned around and stared at a big wet print right near her belly button. She shrugged.

Look, my cat ran out of food, okay? I had to pick up some canned fish or she would never let it go.

She jumped into her seat and produced a weather-beaten notebook from the bowels of her bag. The teacher flipped his long, carefully permed brown hair to one side. Apparently, he was out of breath on the subject.

Okay, now that that's settled, he said, I want everyone to go to the library to check out our first book. Stay together.

All the students rose and filed through the door along with the instructor just as Torka started to take stationery items out of her backpack. In a hurry, she crammed everything back in. She lingered after the room emptied so she could try to find some money to buy a snack at Logan’s, the convenience store adjacent to the school.

She delayed so long that soon she did not have a clue where anyone was and since no one gave her a syllabus she had no idea what the teacher was even referring to. She thought it over and decided to skip getting the dumb book and go to Logan’s. The store was one of those hole-in-the-wall places that looked like it was too old for the neighborhood and quite frankly, she thought, had no business still being in business. Then again, it was right there and featured an assortment of delectable snacks at prices she could afford. Today, as was often the case, its crumbling eaves sheltered a small group of delinquent teenagers whose hoods concealed their affiliations. Torka made her way through the oblivious huddle and tried not to inhale the cloud of cigarette smoke as she approached the door. She walked up to the cashier and asked if she could please purchase a lesbean pac, a new and increasingly popular chocolate candy named after radio personality Lesbean Lame.

I'm sorry, eh eh eh, but I'm afraid you have to be twenty-one, said the youm behind the counter with an incredulous laugh.

"Excuse me? I think your butt just dropped open, Torka giggled. I was talking about buying a lesbean pac, not methanettes."

Youm, if you ever speak to me that way again, I'll call Perversity Encouragement Association and get them to dispose of your perversity.

Now why would you want to do that? said a voice from between the aisles.

A tall mah with long brown hair and pale skin who looked about sixteen strode toward the counter clutching a stick of gum. She wore a pair of very tight jeans shorts, despite the weather, and a loose magenta top with a heart on its center. Her brown eyes were framed with black mascara and a bit of glossy purple eyeshadow.

Perversity enriches the outer atmosphere, she intoned. Besides, it's accepted and preferred in today's societies.

…You mean lesbianity. You listen to 99.9 KRFT too? Torka asked of the dim mah. This was the local radio station whose DJs, including Lesbean Lame, were pushing the envelope with their funny, raunchy dialogue.

Mah, oh you bet. The tall mah dropped the gum into her mouth and started blowing huge bubbles.

Torka giggled again. Wait, I forgot what your name was.

Maybe that's because I've never met you before! The mah popped a bubble in Torka's face. I’m Clare.

Torka burst out laughing hysterically at the other mah’s expression. I’m Torka. You're in my English class!

Nah, really?

We're going to be like thirty minutes late or something.

Muah, they probably won’t even notice that we’re missing. We can just blend in as they’re all leaving the library.

Torka scrambled out the door, forgetting why she had come here. Luckily, Clare’s interruption disarmed the cashier, so she was able to buy some candy that she then shared with Torka. They both sprinted back to the English building, but by the time they reached it the bell had already rung. That’s disappointing, Torka thought.

Hey, do you wannue eat lunch together tomorrow? she asked the other mah.

Sure! Meet me outside the gym after fourth period.

With that Clare waved goodbye and darted out of the vicinity.

School was over about three-thirty. Torka forced her books and binders into her overflowing backpack as she shuffled to the front of the campus where her sister was supposed to pick her up. She plopped down on the damp ground cross-legged, opened a package of crackers and popped them into her mouth two at a time. She started fussing with her braces in front of a handheld mirror and making all kinds of strange expressions. The orthodontist had said that she was stuck these hideous pieces of machinery for two more months. She thought it was okay- if she did not smile, laugh or kiss anyone. Not that she needed to worry about the last thing right now.

Her mind eased when she discovered that her secret behaviors went undetected by both the school hotties and fellow freaks with a wandering eye or ear. The front lawn where she knelt was the Switzerland of the campus. It happened to be one of the few places a mah could sit and be ensured social neutrality. Almost every other location was dominated by one group of students or another, as Heowcruise High was a pretty clique-y school and most of its students hailed from the middle or upper class. Close-knit groups were common in high schools everywhere, but it seemed to Torka that the whole thing started in Heowcruise, that that was where teenagers learned how much power they could really have. And they were not afraid to exercise their power anywhere someone gave them notice. The students’ parents all appeared to know each other too, and readily exchanged long conversations in random places such as whole-foods grocery stores, the health club parking lot, or the city pool.

Whereas my mother tries her hardest to run her errands and get home, Torka thought. She doesn’t have time to stand around and blab. Or the time for much of anything, for that matter.

She glanced toward the street, but there was no sign of Jessica, so she opened another package of crackers while checking her cell phone for new messages. Besides savoring the sense of social security, she crashed here sometimes under the tall valley oaks just to admire their crooked, leafless figures that glistened with water droplets from the frequent overnight fogs. The oaks were flanked by very dense redwoods, which made the area seem like a secluded forest to someone with an active imagination. Quavering, fluty whistles of thrushes frequently permeated the grove early or late in the day and contributed to the feeling. Today, however, Torka was not in the mood to appreciate her surroundings. It seemed like she could not get away from the school fast enough. How much longer can I stare into the mirror? she thought. I don’t want it to start telling me who is not the fairest one of all.

This is so retarded! she shouted.

Her sister was nowhere to be seen and neither was her shiny blue Oldsmobile. Quite suddenly, after Torka had been waiting for nearly forty minutes, a black Thunderbird stopped in traffic and someone yelled her name. She sprinted across the street, causing cars to swerve in all directions. Jessica opened a rear door from the passenger side and Torka jumped onto the leather seat. She was barely able to close the door before they skidded away. Silence filled the car as it moved along purposefully through the quaint neighborhoods.

Muah, who's that? Torka pointed at the driver guy after she had gathered the nerve to hoarsely whisper in her sister’s ear.

This is my boyfriend Kurt, Jessica replied.

Apparently, Jessica was satisfied with the brevity of her response, since she immediately turned her attention to playing with the radio presets. Her left hand was somewhere Torka did not want to know about, and she clearly had no intention of explaining its concealment.

Hey, Kurt said to Torka with a glance into the rear-view mirror.

Hi, Torka whispered.

She took a second look at the guy, who appeared to be about five years older than her. He was very attractive, with a short black crew-cut and green eyes that were shaded by long, dark lashes. His skin was a deep tan, its smoothness only broken by deep creases on his forehead, and his muscles were doing battle with a thin black polo.

Oh my goodness, Torka thought.

No one offered any further comments, so she simply gobbled lesbean pacs until the car stopped in front of the house, all the while staring intently at the far less intriguing scenery beyond the glass.

You can go inside now, Jessica indicated without turning around.

Oh! Thanks for, um, letting me, I mean, for taking me home.

Torka tripped over the seat cushions, stumbled out onto the street and scampered up to the house on her hands and knees. She raced upstairs to her room and collapsed on her full-size bed. She could not believe who her sister was going out with. She had heard rumors a few weeks prior that a new beau entered the picture, but Jessica never fully explained when or where she and Kurt initially crossed paths or even what they had in common. It was true that Jessica always seemed to be one step ahead. It did not surprise Torka that her sister’s latest win was graduating from teens to grown men. Even when Jessica was in school, she spent time with heows from the University whenever she could and barely looked at the adolescent beows around her. Torka could not even go out with Jack Cloacus. Jack was their next-door neighbor, just shy of eighteen and easily the nerdiest beow in the school by her estimation. He’s barely taller than me and his glasses are too big for his face, she thought with a giggle, and he dresses like a Fifties suburbanite, though without the suaveness. Ooh, I should write that in my diary.

She turned on her computer and started to type, I wonder where Jack is this week? Okay, not that I should care. I don’t think I’d want to be his friend, but as you know, lately my social life has been in a major drought. Muah, it’s not like nobody’s ever asked me to be their friend, but it’s just never really worked out. I mean, the Christian group invited me to hang out with them, and I did a couple times, but they studied a certain book way too much, and they seemed more interested in playing games than helping others conquer depression. Then I met that mah who was super-existential and loved dragons and rainbows. She was funny and a truly good person, which I think is rare. Of course, she told me she was a Gypsy and soon moved out of this hemisphere toward greener pastures, not that I blame her.

Then Torka remembered the tall mah she met earlier. It was so spontaneous, she typed. Clare seems cool and maybe she has some connections. Yeah, I haven’t had any friends since ninth grade, but I guess it’s never too late. I’m on the absolute bottom…so there’s nowhere to go but up.

Around dinner time, she skipped downstairs to the kitchen to look for something that would satisfy her appetite. One of the nice things about being almost seventeen was that her mother let her decide what she wanted to make for a last meal on weeknights. I know it’s just ‘cause Mother works the graveyard shift, she thought. Well, to be honest, it’s probably also because she doesn’t like to cook very much. Her idea of a nice meal usually means a microwave mac and cheese dinner, asparagus, and a tonic water with a Benadryl.

Torka opened the freezer and the pantry, but finding those nearly empty, opted to fix herself a batch of Arelian toast bread. This was essentially her version of French toast but faster to prepare. She figured she could use a sugar boost to get her through the night and her responsibility of watching the house. She dribbled syrup over two slices of whole-wheat toast and completed the meal with dabs of butter and a dash of cinnamon. She then poured herself a glass of chocolate milk. Out of nowhere her watch came off and fell with a splash into the milk glass.

MUAH! she shrieked.

She tried to pull it out by clutching at the instrument with a pair of tweezers but fumbled and it fell into the syrupy mess on her plate. It did not take long before her watch was covered in milk, sugar and butter. Before she could run to the sink to wash it, she accidentally dropped it down her blouse. The unit slid down into her underwear and forced her to strip in the kitchen to remove it.

I can't believe this!

Suddenly her mom came home and tore off her uniform, tossed it on the couch and removed a hair tie at the same time. She marched into the kitchen carrying a polished air that masked her exhaustion since she had yet to switch out of work mode.

AAUGH!! I need an explanation for this behavior! she shouted.

She recoiled and shielded her face to protect her from the sight of her daughter in plus-size panties. Once she had recovered enough from the surprise, she set her jaw and simply stared from the doorway.

Torka was not a pretty sight to see. She had one hand deep in her mualer area and the other clutched a syrup-soaked triangle of bread, like she was indulging multiple senses while pursuing self-satisfaction.

She stammered, I was umm...he wanted a, um- it was a random bit of lesbianity!

Her mother just told her to clean up her act and go to her room. And don’t make any more messes in the house, she added.

Torka’s mother threw the bread-covered plate in the dishwasher and immediately twisted the knob to start the unit. Torka peeked around the stairwell and glimpsed her mother’s brutish red eyes, which darted after her predatorily.

Later that evening, Torka's mom left to begin her night shift, which extended until seven a.m. She worked as a social psychologist at a nearby treatment center, a job she complained about as often as she could. Safely alone for the next ten hours, Torka took a quick look at the latest stack of magazines and books her mother always left on an antique coffee table in the living room as either a ruse or a tease. She pushed aside crime thriller novels, TV Guide, Prevention, and Woman’s World to reveal The Enigma of the Brain. She read a few pages on psychological disorders and promised to come back to the thick tome later after she had attended to more pressing desires. Mah, I can read these anytime so long as I return them to their same location, she thought. She did her best to rearrange the stack so that it was perfectly aligned. Then she retreated upstairs and sprawled out on her bed. She formed a curtain by pulling down thick blankets from the bunk bed above her that used to be Jessica’s. That way no one could see what was going on underneath. Not as if anyone cares what I do, she thought. Jessica could have her hand down a heow’s shorts like she did earlier today, and Mother would probably just wave the occurrence away as if it was unintentional, like a mild accident. But it’s a super huge deal when my hand just happens to end up below my waistline.

She plugged in her stereo and turned the dial to 99.9 KRFT FM. The Smolderville, California-based station played some great music- mostly independent rock bands along with a few mainstream artists- but almost everyone listened because the DJs were spontaneous and quirky. Torka, too, could not wait to hear what perverted things Joe Scott, Jessica Lame, and Lesbean Lame were saying to each other. Soon after they were hired a year ago, Jessica and Lesbean started to fashion their own advertisements that completely abandoned the scripts provided and approved by the companies. In their versions, the DJs poked fun at every aspect of the products they were supposed to be advertising. The companies allowed it because the negative advertising was much more effective. In addition, Joe, Lesbean, and Jessica did skits and made random, politically incorrect commentary. Besides captivating local audiences on the airwaves, the Lame sisters owned several successful companies, despite being only a couple years older than the students at Heowcruise High.

Some students undoubtedly listened to KRFT like Torka did, but they were careful not to be seen or heard enjoying it. It was like openly admitting that one worshipped a teen pop idol, which Torka would never dare to do. Obsessing over the radio station seemed almost more taboo than mualing, because at least parents suspected when their children were getting physical, and promiscuity didn’t make people queasy like a program that risked challenging the status quo.

Lesbean, get that microphone out of your butt. You're supposed to be using it for the advertisement! Torka heard Jessica Lame shout.

Mah, just a sec. Okay, this advertisement is for Pac ‘N’ Pump Fudes, Lesbean said in a dramatic way in her deep, mellifluous voice. Pac ‘N’ Pump Fudes is a great place to shop if you want to stay as dull and unhealthy as you are. Why don’t you just soak up the friendly family, family-friendly, environment. When you do your shopping there, you save as much as one cent. Where else would you go for such great deals, guaranteed to thin your wallet and thicken your thighs? So what are you waiting for- come on by today!!

Jessica giggled in the background and barely let her sister finish before she began, At Harvecue’s, we take value seriously. As in, we do not endorse it. We pride ourselves on our slogan, ‘value has no meaning.’ We offer a wide variety of products from fly swatters to lint rollers and from candy to lip exercisers. No matter what you buy in the store, you can count on high prices, unfriendly customer service and low-quality foods! Jessica broke into song, Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo, Harrrvecue’s, fine barrrbecues.

There was a rather long pause before Jessica threw in, Uh, this message has been brought to you by the…Dairy Association. Encouraging you to…eat lots of dairy so they can make tons of money. And keep the cows happy.

Lesbean continued with another ad and Torka could barely make it out amid corny electronica sound effects. Guess what? You just won one million dollars!!! Okay, I was just saying that so that you would stop watching self-help infomercials and listen to what I’m trying to say. Over here at Cringe Publishing, we are proud to present our seventy-fifth annual sweepstakes contest! This contest is open to those thirteen and over. So, check your school ID before entering, because twelve-year-olds will not be accepted. The rest of you lucky listeners: Who knows? Maybe you can join the many people who we’ve disappointed over the years! I don’t mean with our fiction, of course, because all our publishing works are dazzling. When you sign up for our sweepstakes and fill out all the glossy paperwork, you have a one in one hundred million chance of winning! If you do win, we will guarantee to pay you as much as you currently make at your job. We will continue to pay all your progeny into the next millennium until the entire award is disbursed. Anyways, Cringe Publishing can’t wait to announce your winnings to the world! So, enroll today! Be sure to also purchase a couple of our novels so that we don’t go bankrupt and cause you to forfeit your winnings.

Torka tumbled towards her knees in hysterical laughter as Jessica Lame turned to the phone lines to take song requests from a couple disoriented callers. Letting the Lame sisters lift her spirits every night was a relatively recent activity, but the routine was by far Torka’s favorite one now. Everything in her life had become a routine since she left the free-for-all that was her junior year in high school, when her mother had made the attempt to homeschool her and Jessica in a futile rebellion against the system. Her mother seemed to be less troubled by what it would cost her and Jessica than by the suffering she would go through, knowing that their mental proficiency was not evolving fast enough to do her any measurable good. So far, the year of isolation had been costly, much more so for Torka than her sister.

As if the six school changes before were not enough to stop anything social from happening, Torka thought. Mah, I guess there’s no point in complaining. I should think about something else- something I have control over.

Just in time for a song she liked, she turned the volume on her stereo up almost the entire way, closed her eyes tight and allowed the rhythm to travel through her. She hummed the same song the next day as she hustled to meet Clare on the Heowcruise High School quad, which was the large open area between the library and gymnasium where many students ate lunch. Usually Torka avoided the quad and the students that frequented it. It was the home of clubs both official and private, from Journalism to Theater to Japanimation, and she was a member of none of these. Something told her that neither was Clare. I know who almost everybody in this school is even if they don’t know my last name, she thought, but I’ve never seen this mah before yesterday.

She let go of the tree trunk she was standing behind as the other girl approached and strode into the sunlight. Though she was a bit out of practice at getting acquainted with someone for the first time, she felt calmer than she had expected. Clare was wearing a cardigan unbuttoned to reveal the better part of her bustline, but despite this outfit, Torka’s second impression of her was that she had a sort of unabashed humility.

Muah, do you, um, want to sit on a bench here? Or, Clare looked around, we could go to the side of the Performing Arts building where there’s less commotion.

I'm going to run to the bathroom, Torka said. "There's something I forgot