Dandelion Soul: Dandelion Soul, #1

By Dee Dee Covas

Writer Lexa Frasier's seemingly perfect life takes a turn when an unexpected reunion takes her down a path of self-awakening. As the pages of her sequel progress, the pages of her past unravel, revealing family secrets that will turn her life upside down.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dee Dee Covas
• Release date: Jul 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9798223730989

Book preview

Dee Dee Covas

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is coincidental.

Chapter 1

Water droplets line up against the top of the window in procession, racing down the glass systematically before they collide and slip off into nothing. Mesmerized, I repeatedly watch them move from the top of the window to the bottom in the same pattern. I imagine they’re tears instead of raindrops, each falling from the sky for some Earthly penance. I begin to give each one a purpose. A single tear drops for the stray animals who don’t have a home, another for those starving kids in Africa. For just fifty cents a day, I can help end the suffering of a starving kid. I watched an infomercial about it last week. I should send them my allowance.

I’m distracted by my tongue. It feels thick, like, it’s too big to fit in my mouth. I turn it sideways, sticking it out to rest on my bottom lip. Why can’t my tongue get comfortable? My mouth is parched. I imagine licking the cold window as if the water drops could seep through the glass to relieve the dryness from my cottony tongue. I open the car window just a crack. Holding my face up with my tongue out, I let the rain splatter my face. Only a few drops make it into my open mouth, though. Leaning my head against the cool glass, I let the rainwater spray my face as the top of my hair whips in the night wind.

Ouch! My reverie is interrupted by pain in my hip as a foot slams against it.

Close the window, Stupid, my brother snaps.

Rubbing my hip, I look in the front seat at my parents, floating in a cloud of smoke. Cracking the window doesn’t keep us from smelling that, you know, I utter through the shirt pulled over my face.

Kyle nudges me with his knee, sniffing the air dramatically, Shut up, it smells good.

Mom rolls her eyes and opens the passenger side window a little wider, wafting the smoke out while trying to keep from getting wet. I don’t know why they couldn’t have just waited until they got home to get high. Maybe they do it on purpose to mellow us out so we don’t fight. I know it works for them. They seem to fight less when they’re high.

I hate the smell, I announce.

I hate the smell... Kyle mimics me dramatically in a high-pitched voice

Shut up, Kyle.

Grow up, Lexa.

Resting my face on my knees, I try to hold my breath from inside my shirt, but it doesn’t help, so I roll with the flow, letting it consume me. It’s not the first time I’ve gotten a contact high from my parents.

We’re on our way home from visiting Mom’s cousin, who lives three hours away. It’s the first weekend of summer break, and this is my parent’s bright idea of a vacation, a three-day getaway making meaningful lifelong family memories, like fighting with Kyle and trying not to die of boredom while watching the adults drink and play poker. The only good thing about it is that we got to miss Friday, the last day of school. Now that I think of it, I’d have rather gone to school.

When we get home, I lay on my bed, watching the ceiling fan whirl above me. My contact buzz is still with me as stoned complex insights occupy my mind. I suddenly have an intuitive understanding of life. Subliminal recognition of my rapid heartbeat contrasts with my relaxed body as my thoughts turn to the music playing through my headphones. My mind separates the music. The bass, the drums, and vocals all interact individually and together at the same time.

I'm aware of the heat when my buzz starts to wear off. My dad refuses to turn on the air conditioner if it’s below eighty degrees outside. The windows are open, but there’s no breeze, just a layer of sticky humidity. Pushing the covers off, I wipe the sweat from my forehead with the sheet.

The music in my headphones drowns out the whispers coming from the corners. I’ve learned to drown them out, pretend they aren’t there. When I was little, a woman in a park told Mom I had a special gift but not to worry because it would go away in time. It didn’t, though. She said they would go away if I told them to. It scared my parents. I guess that’s why they’ve always treated me differently. I am different.

Pulling my hair from my neck, I wipe the sweat and sigh. Maybe Kyle’s right. It’s time for me to grow up.

You can go away now, I whisper. I don’t need you anymore.

When the music in my headphones ends, I hum in unison with the sound of the rain hitting the roof until I fall asleep.

A SINGLE BLADE OF GREEN grass reluctantly pulls free from the Earth. Looking down at the ground insightfully, I choose another, pulling it from the Earth’s tenacious grip. Gazing at the two blades of grass in my hands, I entwine them together. I imagine every living thing has a soul, even grass. Maybe I picked these two because they’re soul mates.

I shake my head to clear my daydreaming and laugh, I'm so stupid.

Dropping the grass back to the ground, I wipe my dirty hands on my pants and pick up the other half of my peanut butter and jelly sandwich as my mind drifts off again. I’m always in my head, constantly immersed in thought with my bottomless imagination. My brother says I'm immature. He's always telling me to grow up. I’m not, though. I just think differently than other people. That’s why no one understands me, like, no one. Whatever, I guess. I don’t need anyone anyway. So, I don’t click with jerks who are too self-absorbed to see how the world works. Sadly, they don’t realize that everything has a soul and that grass blades can be soulmates. I laugh out loud at myself.

I finish my PB&J and smooth out the blanket. Lying down on my back, I stare into the beautiful soul of the oak tree hovering above me. Its branches are just chillin’ in the breeze, content to livin’ its best timberous life, while being shat upon by feathered friends.

We go way back, this tree and I...I’ve always been drawn to it. Its thick branches are like arms stretching up to the sky. Fingers extend wide for birds to perch. Roots spread like toes, digging down into the earth below.

As a gentle wind rustles the leaves, they whisper together, speaking an unknown language of their own. Happily, they waft in the sunlight before a storm blows them, dancing to the ground. Destined to be stepped on and forgotten, fearless of death, they become ordained with the soil that feeds the tree’s roots. Reborn again from the rich soil into a new life on the old oak tree.

Hmm, I don’t think it would be too difficult to climb. If I stood on my bike, I could probably reach the first branch, and from there, I could totally get to the flat spot between those two branches.

As I strategize my impending ascend, I notice two swallowed-tail kite birds gracefully circling above. I see them almost every day. They’re beautiful, stark white with a split tail lined in black. I imagine they’re angels watching over me as they rise above the earth, sharing the sky with the spiritual realm. There I go again...I shake my head to clear my daydreaming again and try focusing on my book.

I ride my bike here with a book almost every day. I don't know who lives here or why I’m even drawn to come here. It’s a spacious corner lot with a brick house set back so far that sometimes I forget it’s there. I’ve never seen anyone who lives here. I wonder what they would think if they knew a random kid had a picnic under the oak tree in their yard almost every day. I blush with embarrassment at the thought.

I started coming here when I was little. One day, I was riding my bike when a ratty-looking poodle started chasing me. I looked back, laughing at the dog as I rode faster, and I then wrecked my bike right into this tree. The chain broke, and the front tire bent. I left it there and ran home with scrapes and bruises. The next day, I returned to get my bike propped up against the tree with a new tire and chain. On top of the bike was a brand-new helmet with a purple bow. I never saw the dog again and never found out who fixed my bike for me. I’ve been hanging out at this tree ever since.

I usually want to get away to be by myself. And it’s always good to get away from my older brother. Once Mom started working, things changed at home. I had to go stay with the crazy neighbor, Charlene, up until three days ago because, apparently, I'm a fragile girl and can't be left alone. Charlene went to the same church as my grandparents.

While praying before lunch the other day, she said, Dear Jesus, bless this mac and cheese and tater tots that you have provided for our lunch today, and Lord Jesus, please forgive Lexa’s parents for their sins. I opened my eyes wide and looked at her portly face with her eyes squeezed tight. She lifted her hands to the sky and continued, Forgive them, Lord Jesus, for smokin’ the marijuana and for drinkin’ the devil’s booze. In your name, we pray, amen.

I stared at her from across the table as she proceeded to eat without explanation. Um, excuse me, Mrs. Charlene, I think I’ll just go home now. My brother should be home from day camp.

When I told my parents about it, they said she once dropped in on them unexpectedly when they had some friends over. They think I’m probably old enough to stay home alone from now on...except not alone. Because I have to be stuck with Kyle so we can keep an eye on each other. That’s ridiculous.

Kyle was so mad that he had to quit football camp to stay home with me that he started bullying me even worse than before. But I overheard my parents talking about how they couldn’t afford his football camp anyway. So, I plan to avoid Kyle as much as possible. And since I don’t click with kids my age, I spend most of my time alone. I have a feeling it’s gonna be a long, boring summer.

I’ve been reading for so long my eyeballs feel dry and sticky. Laying my book beside me, I relish the feeling of the warm breeze gliding across my face. With my eyes closed, I absorb the sounds around me: rustling leaves, birds calling in the distance, and an airplane far above. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly before dozing off.

I’m woken from my crazy dream by a sting on my right ankle. Ouch! I grab the ant off my skin between my fingers and flick him, Jerk!

I gather my blanket, roll it into a ball, and shove it in the front basket of my purple bike. I smile, thinking about the dream the fire ant interrupted. A branch from the tree leaned down to caress my cheek tenderly before gently scooping me and rocking me like a baby swaddled in a blanket made of its leaves. I always have crazy, vivid dreams like this. I better get home and write this one down in my dream journal before I forget.

Pulling my bike into the driveway, I hop off and walk it up to the carport of my house. It’s an old house with no garage. Dad always jokes about selling our stuff to buy enough bricks to make this carport into his man cave.

My Dad grew up in this house with my Uncle Mike. Then my parents moved back here with my grandparents when I was a baby so they could help care for them. I don’t know exactly how old I was when my grandparents died, but I miss them. I remember staring at my grandmother because she was so beautiful. They were so in love. I know they’re together on the other side because I always have dreams about them, and they’re always together in my dreams. Maybe they came back as those Swallow-tailed Kite birds watching over me. Maybe they’re the ones whispering from the corners.

I lean my bike along the back wall of the carport because the kickstand is broken. The front door is locked, and I don’t have my key. Rolling my eyes, I head toward the sounds of my brother and his friends playing football in the backyard and return the gesture when Kyle waves at me with his middle finger.

Why’d you lock me out?

I guess you'll just have to go through the back door, stupid.

I duck out of the path of the football aimed at my head and lean back against the TV antenna pole with folded arms. Mom says you aren’t allowed to have friends over.

What’re you gonna do, narc on me?

Kyle’s two years older than me. He’s smart, cute, popular at school, plays football, and dates cheerleaders. Even with all that going for him, his personality sucks. We have never gotten along. He’s been a bully for as long as I can remember.

Hey, Lexa, I dare you to climb that pole and get on the roof, Kyle taunts.

I look up and contemplate silently. I was thinking of climbing the tree. This’ll be good practice.

You're too chicken. You won't do it, Kyle teases as his friends laugh.

Chicken? It's not even that high. I declare. Without another thought, I climb. Not because I want to impress them but because I really want to climb up there.

My bare feet scale the scorching hot pole as I pull myself up to the top and awkwardly climb onto the roof. I hop back and forth so the rough roof tiles don’t melt my bare feet. Looking down at the faces below me, I smirk proudly.

I can see the whole neighborhood from here. I can even see my oak tree. A few minutes ago, I was looking at that tree from below, and now I'm looking at it from above with a bird’s eye view.

My thoughts are cut short when I spot a boy walking down the street. I've never seen him before. He looks about my age, has dark brown hair, and is wearing board shorts and a blue T-shirt. I watch him as he progresses closer to my house.

My brother captures my attention with a chant. Jump! Jump! Jump! Then his friends start to chime in, Jump! Jump! Jump!

I look down and flip my middle finger at them.

The boy’s now walking in the street almost in front of our house with a guitar strapped to his back, and a notebook in his hand. When he glances up, my eyes meet his and hold.

Jump! Jump! Jump! the chanting continues.

Without breaking eye contact with the boy, my feet soar into the air. For a split second, I feel weightless, as though I could flap my arms and fly. But then my stomach free falls, and the ground meets my bare feet, sending sharp pins and needles through my whole body. The shaking takes a few seconds to stop, and my feet continue to tingle like crazy, as hoots and hollers escape from the boys.

You’re so stupid! I didn't think you would actually jump, laughs my brother.

I ignore him and look toward the road. The boy isn’t there. Shakily, I go to the front of the house. He’s gone.

Chapter 2

I brought a new book today. I stayed up until midnight, finishing the last one. I’m a total bookworm. When you open the pages of a book, you escape to another place where no one can find you. Leaving your world behind, you become someone else, going on adventures, exploring other worlds, making friends, and falling in love. When you look up from the pages, you’re you again, with your crappy life, sitting under a tree.

Florida summers are scorching and humid, but today's cloudy. Dad says we have a break in the weather because of some ocean system, so it's been unusually breezy the last couple of days. I’m just glad it’s not raining again today. Summer vacation is only fun when you are not stuck in the house with an asshole.

Kyle was such a jerk all day yesterday. The strangest thing happened, though, and I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. He got mad that I ate the last microwave popcorn. So, he snatched the bag from my hands and shoved me outside, locking me out of the house. I went to the neighbor’s house to call my mom. She wouldn’t answer her cell phone, so I called her work. They told me that she doesn’t work on Mondays. Well, that is just weird, considering she got up, dressed for work, and left the house at 8:15 a.m. while I ate my cereal. She even said, ‘Well, I’m off to work. No fighting with your brother,’ as if I’m the reason we fight.

I waited for a few minutes while making small talk with Charlene.

Everything okay, Hun?

Oh, yeah. I, uh. Just locked myself out.

Your brother isn’t home to let you in? She raises her right penciled-in eyebrow. Oh, wait. She isn’t lifting it. They’re just drawn on unevenly.

Instead of answering her question, I hold up a finger and redial the phone. May I please speak to Susan? I ask again.

Honey, I told you she is not here. Susan does not work on Mondays.

Honey, why don’t you just stay here. I’ll put the television on for you until your mother gets home.

When I asked Mom about it last night, she snapped at me and whispered to mind my business. Well, I kind of think it is my business when I am left alone with that jerk all day. What could she possibly be doing, and why is she pretending to go to work?

Shaking it off, I put my book down and prop my bike against the tree. With one bare foot on my bike and the other braced against the tree, I reach up with my right hand and grab the lowest branch, pulling myself up. The bark digging into my foot feels similar to the rough roof tiles from yesterday. I smile at the memory of Kyle’s face when I jumped from the roof. Good thing I didn’t break my legs when I hit the ground, considering we wouldn’t have been able to get ahold of Mom. I now have both feet braced against the tree with my hands grasped around the branch like a monkey. I hang there for a minute, then start to walk my feet up and swing one leg over the branch. I’m not graceful, but I’m determined. Finally, I swing the rest of my body up, holding tight to avoid falling. After regaining my balance, I climb to the spot between two branches and sit with a smile. It's as if my favorite tree made this seat just for me because it knew I’d make it up here one day.

I slow my panting from the climb and wipe the sweat off my face with my shirt. My hair is stuck to my face, so I pull it down, smoothing it with my hands before putting it back up into a high ponytail with a big smile on my face. I love this. Being up high makes me feel free. Free as a bird. l can even see my house from here. I'll climb this tree every day. Tomorrow, I’ll attempt to bring my book up here.

Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and absorb the sound of the leaves rustling