"Oh, Bert, don't you ever wonder what it would be like to forget the rules every once in a while?"
"Ha! Wonder! As if I have the option to wonder about such a thing when you force me toexperience it so very often!" Cole narrowed his eyes, "No one is forcing you, Bert. You may leave whenever you like."
"Maybe I shall!" Bert declared passionately, his cheeks reddening with Cole's obvious lack of interest in his presence. "Oh, Bert," Nancy whined, "Don't leave." Bert flicked his red hair out of his face and stuck up his chin a bit, "Oh, fine," he said in a very haughty manner, "Since you can't seem to function without my being near you." Nancy smiled, content with pleasing him, (since she was very aware that she was,) and hooked her arm through his, and his haughty act was all but lost with the flames that took over his cheeks. Cole rolled his eyes and we continued forward as Bran pushed into the Fleeters building. Ever since we were old enough to understand what the Fleeters were, they fascinated us- even Bert, though he'll never admit it. I distinctly remember the first time I met one. I was four, and it was still the times when, upon arrival, we didn't know how to tell the Fleeters apart from ordinary Newcomers. He was tall, or at least it seemed so at the time, and he walked with a strange limp. He seemed uncomfortable as he stood in line at the Grocery store, his items tucked under his arm as he fiddled with the string that had gotten loose from the bottom of his shirt. I remember walking up to him and tapping him on the shoulder- well, the back, I suppose, since I hadn't been tall enough to tap his shoulder- and when he turned to me, looking startled, I said to him, "Don't worry, mister, you'll get used to this place. You'll like it here." His face seemed shocked, still, for a moment, but then it settled into a smile, and he said, "Yes, I'm sure I will." He turned away from me, smiling sadly and shaking his head, "Eventually." But I found out a couple weeks later that he never got the chance to get used to this place, because he was sent back to the old one.
Bert took my hand as we moved into the Fleeters building, and Cole's eyes burned into our connected hands as if he could break them apart with his gaze. He quickly grabbed my other hand, glaring at Bert, but when I caught his gaze and smiled at him, his face calmed, and he smiled back. A little boy was sitting by the front entrance desk, just staring at his Welcome Packet, his eyes welled up with tears. He looked about three, maybe four. Fleeters' welcome packets were different from those of general Newcomers', but not by much. There was just an extra page on the end that informed the person that their stay here would only be temporary, that there was no way of knowing how long their visit would last, etc, etc. The little boy's wet eyes were focused on that last page, but the assurance that he would be able to go home eventually didn't seem to reassure him much. "Hello," Bran said, kneeling in front of the boy though he was not really that much taller than the boy was in a chair. The boy sniffled but said nothing. "What's your name?" Bran asked in a sweet voice, his eyes kind. The boy sniffled again and muttered, "John." Bran smiled, "Well, John. It's very nice to meet you." The boy said nothing in response. "You're gonna go home, you know, so you can stop with the crying," Cole informed John. Bran shot Cole dagger eyes and Cole shrugged. John broke into sobs, "I can't stay here another minute! I want to go home! If I can't go home now, I'll die!" Bran looked sympathetic, but Cole rolled his eyes and said, "No, you won't. You can't die here." Bran bit his lip, and John looked at Cole questioningly, "Whattaya mean?" Cole sighed, "You can't die on Memory Lane."
"How come?"
"Just 'cause." John scrunched up his nose, like he didn't want to bother Cole anymore, but then he gave up and asked, "'Cause why?" Cole sighed dramatically, "I dunno, John, just 'cause." John still looked skeptical. "I ne'er heard of a place where you couldn't die." Cole rolled his eyes, "Yea, well. I bet ya' ne'er heard of Memory Lane, neither, did ya', John?" John scrunched up his nose and looked back at his packet. He seemed to still be unbelieving, but he certainly couldn't argue that, yes, indeed, he had heard of Memory Lane in the outside world. No one could argue that.
'Cause no one had.
© 2011
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