Leila

Leila raised her face to the wind. Around her, all over the top viewing deck of The Wind Breaker , businessmen and tourists pulled their jackets and sweaters tighter around them in an effort to keep away the bitter cold.
Travelers bustled by her, toward one of the many doors leading into the heated interior of the ferry boat, looking forward to a hot chocolate and the heater near their seats. They all passed Leila's place in the front of the boat, while giving her second looks. She was a sight to see: a young, solidly built adolescent girl dressed in only jeans, a T-shirt and a thin windbreaker to ward off the January wind. After categorizing her a typical teenager, they walk on past her. If they had stayed only seconds later, they'd find a square face perched on a long neck bearing a single, lone cross. Flushed, thin cheeks and teal green eyes that were glossy, either from the cold wind or from tears, and a set in her chin that said loudly she wouldn't tell you which. All framed by dark, wavy waist-length hair that that danced around her in the wind.
No one saw this, and still no one noticed the hand that was slipped inside her blue windbreaker, obscured from view.

Josh stepped outside and felt a frigid wind meet him full in the face, making him wince.
That's why I prefer summer, he though wryly. He didn't think much of the winter sports that his father loved. He looked about him and decided to go to the front, maybe catch a glimpse of the sea otters that his mother claimed to see. “I tell you, Josh, they're out there. Fleets of 'em. Now get away from that blasted machine and get a picture of one.” A.K.A., ditch the walkman and go take a couple hundred pictures of rocks. His mother was an artist at heart, and, according to Josh, had totally missed her calling when she opened up a tailoring shop three years ago.
As he made his way to the front he looked out over the water. Water terrified him, though no one knew that. Even the thought of putting any part of him over the edge made him want to turn and run. His older sister, Andrea, was the complete opposite. The only thing that could make her feel sick was a sickness. Bungee jumping, high diving (off cliffs), ridiculously high ladders-nothing could affect that stomach.
Josh turned a final corner and arrived in the front. He walked straight to the railing, not bothering to look around him. The wind was stronger here, and he pulled his toque down over his ears.
As he looked at the approaching mainland of Vancouver, he thought back to the Christmas he had spent in Campbell River. Him, his mother and his sister had visited his aunt, and though his Aunt Christy was a kind and gentle woman, it had been difficult. It was his first Christmas without his father by his side. After a rather brutal and loud argument, Mrs. and Mr. Brown officially became Mrs. Losef and Mr. Brown and put an ocean between themselves. The initial break-up wasn't what had killed Josh. He had seen it coming for ages, even if his parents hadn't. It was the weeks and months that came after that. With his mother, it was your dad this, and your dad that, always in an almost litany of thanks that he had gone to Europe. Josh could tell that even though she wouldn't admit it, she missed her husband sorely. His father called him about once a week. They had never been all that close, simply because Josh just didn't want to spend Saturday afternoons watching hockey or talking about the latest foot ball game. His father blamed the lack of calling often on long distance. Whenever the subject of his mother came up-which was rare, as Jim made a point of avoiding it-Jim would press Josh about how his education and schooling was going, implying that his mother didn't take adequate care of him. His thoughts stopped when he recognized someone he knew from school who was standing to his left.
They recognized each other at the same moment, and the guy came over, pulling his hands out of his pockets.
As Josh watched his approach he hastily tried to match his broad shoulders and thick neck with a name. It didn't come until he spoke. “Hey, man. You didn't show Friday night. You missed one(insert swear word of choice here)of a game.” Pow. While he said this, he punched Josh's upper arm, probably in what he thought was a chummy way of saying hi. But, ouch, Josh thought.
Todd. The name kind of suits him, Josh thought contemplatively while steeling himself from rubbing his arm, until he realized this Todd character was waiting for an explanation. Todd had told Josh at school last week that he had a ticket for a football game, and though Todd had probably told Josh which teams were playing, it had slipped his mind scant seconds after hearing it.
He almost snorted. Sure, Todd. I'll have fun explaining why I purposely avoided going anywhere near the football field last Friday night at 7:00, not so sharp.
Instead, he did his best to pull on a face labeled neutral and shrug offhandedly. “Left for the island on Saturday, man. Didn't have time.” Todd seemed to accept this, so Josh added, “Who won?” Just then the loud speaker overhead gave a beep and announced that it was time for all personnel traveling on a bus to make their way down to the the lower car decks. Todd listened, and Josh realized that in while in concentration his hard features somehow looked slightly less frightening. Then Todd turned back to Josh with an apologetic smile and shrug. “That's me, buddy. I'll see you around,” he said as he walked away.
“See you, Todd. And Merry Christmas.”
Todd looked back with a strange look on his face. “It wasn't,” was all he said, then he was gone.
Poor guy, thought Josh as he turned back to the now very visible mainland, rubbing his throbbing arm. He was deep in thought when a sound like metal on metal him made him turn with alarm. It had sounded alarmingly like a knife being sharpened. Leaning over the other end of the rail stood a slight teenage girl that looked to be the same age as him. Maybe a little younger. He was about to turn back to his downcast thoughts when he looked closer at the girl's face. Her large eyes were red and puffy, telling him loudly that the tears that covered her gaunt cheeks were from pain, not from the wind that played with her long dark hair. Her left hand held something under her wind breaker that he couldn't see, and her right hand was clenched in a fist. Looking closer at her outline, Josh realized that 'slight' was not the right word to use. This girl was skinny. It doesn't really suit her build, Josh thought. Hers is similar to Aunt Christy's, and Auntie's on the healthy plumpish side.
Both seemed to realize he was staring at her fixedly at the same moment, and she swung her head around to meet his gaze-cold and unflinching. He knew he should turn away, but her eyes stopped him. It was like looking at a rather solid brick wall of teal. One of his aunt's favorite sayings is 'the eye is the window to the soul', and usually he could tell some of the emotion the person was feeling by their eyes. But not here.
Strange, Josh thought as he gave a nonchalant smile and turned away. I wonder why she guards herself so well.

Leila ran her hand along the handle of the Scottish blade, tracing it's familiar metal designs, desperately and unsuccessfully trying to keep her mind off the one thought it seemed to want to dwell on. But, she thought, that's really how the human mind works. The more you try to convince it the thought is unimportant, or even painful, the more it dwells on it. Images flashed through her mind and, realizing she couldn't stop them, bowed her head as her eyes filled with unbidden tears, her hands clenched in fists of hopelessness.
Her mother being lowered into the ground. The preacher's musing and mourning about self-inflicted death. Only weeks later, her father being led out of the court room, glaring at everyone in sight. The judge's verdict of imprisonment at an asylum.
Leila took a swipe at her eyes with the back of her hand, and noticed a burning sensation in the back of her neck.
If someone's staring at me again... she thought grimly.
She snapped her head around to the right and for an instant met two gray eyes. The boy who they belonged to didn't look away right away, and she noted blond, short, blonde hair sticking out from the bottom of a toque bearing the picture of a hawk. Then his lips turned up in a lazy, half-smile and he turned back to the scenery. She did the same, thinking that somehow he looked familiar. She struggled to remember, but her mind drew a blank.
Something in his stance and open expression told her that she could walk over and start a conversation. As if, she thought. Then, 'That's something mom would do.'
A whimper escaped her as she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Why couldn't she stop thinking about her parents? She kept her eyes closed as she struggled to get a decent hold on her emotions. Breathe in, breathe out. Again, that feeling that she was being observed. She turned toward the blonde-haired boy at the rail and, once again, found herself closely observed. Except this was different. He must have heard her whimper, and was looking at her with concern and a little bit of curiosity. Then that smile returned and one eyebrow raised, almost reaching his hairline. His smile was infectious, and she caught herself just before she smiled in return, shocked at wanting to. His open expression told her he might just come over and start a conversation. With some reluctance, she raised an eyebrow in return and walked for the exit. She turned the hand that carried the knife in a way that he wouldn't be able to see, and she felt his gaze follow her down the boat. She found herself wishing she was a normal fifteen-year old person without the painful past and hopeless future.

Josh turned away, gripping the rail. A knife? His mind reeled. Suicide or homicide? Or something else? He took a deep breath, telling himself not to come to any conclusions. He left the front of the boat, suddenly finding the biting wind bothersome and distracting. For a second, he had seen some of that brick wall dissipate, and her honest face almost broke into a smile. She was lonely, that much he was certain. He smiled wryly. That much they had in common. I guess I'll never know if we have anything else in common. Then he shook his head. He'd just have to stop thinking about her, because it was obvious that they'd never see each other again.
Funny, he thought, she looked almost familiar.

“It is now time for all personnel boarding a car to make they're way down to the lower car decks. We hope you enjoyed your voyage on the Wind Breaker, and hope to see you soon.”
Leila listened to the loud speaker's over-enthusiastic voice from her perch on a storing cabinet. She took a deep breath and hopped down. Starting out for the door inside she rubbed her hands together. She was regretting not wearing or at least bringing gloves. Reaching the door, she held it open for an elderly man coming out. When he turned to thank her, she averted her eyes and proceeded into the interior. Being kind and civil had become tiring, something she didn't have energy for. It was easier to keep to herself. The Wind Breaker being a small boat, she spotted her aunt easily. Lindsay's short black hair was splayed on either side of her pale face. Her sharp green eyes were focused on a knitting project that her short fingers toyed with.
She didn't notice Leila sitting down beside her, and Leila didn't announce her arrival. Despite her aunt's witch-like appearance, she was a kind woman, who had taken Leila in without question. Leila knew that her mother and her aunt hadn't been close. In appearance or in character. Looking at her aunt's concentrated face, Leila thought on all the ways they were different. Melanie with her long blond hair and honest blue eyes. Lindsay with short black hair and a perpetual pointed expression. Back when Leila had been young, she could remember her aunt Lindsay coming between her mother and father, preventing fights that might have otherwise come to blows.
She gently slipped the knife into her shoulder bag on the floor at her feet before turning to her aunt.
She watched her for a second before Lindsay set her knitting down and turned to her niece.
“How's the deck?”
“Windy and cold.”
“See anything in the water?” Her aunt didn't look too satisfied by her answers.
“Garbage and foam.”
Lindsay released a sigh and shook her head. “I mean some kind of animal, Leila.”
“No, no animals. There was a man that resembled a pig on the deck, though.”
Lindsay picked up her knitting and tried again. “What did you think of your grandmother?”
Leila turned to her aunt and raised her eyebrows in answer. Lindsay smiled. “I know, she takes a bit of getting used, to, but she's improved quite a bit from when I was a child. Your mother had a way with her that I could never understand.”
Leila tensed. Her aunt sighed. “I'm sorry, Leila. That was thoughtless of me.”
“No problem.” Shut up! I've heard enough about my mother already!
The noise around them had dissipated as travelers started toward the car decks. Lindsay put away her knitting and stood up, stretching. She picked up her bags and waited for Leila to do the same. They walked with the rest of the passengers down three flights of stairs and then to Lindsay's teal SUV. They climbed in and sat waiting for the ship to dock.
After several minutes Lindsay turned to Leila, who was looking pointedly away. “A burger for your thoughts.” This old tradition made Leila brighten. It had started one afternoon when Lindsay had taken her niece out for lunch at Wendy's when Leila was about five. Leila had been thinking deeply about something and so her aunt asked, “A penny for your thoughts.” Leila, not knowing what this meant, frowned. She didn't know why she would need a penny-her parents paid for her clothing and food. Besides, the burger sitting uneaten on her aunt's plate held much more appeal. “Um ... Could I have your burger instead?” Since then, whenever she was with her aunt, the expression came up.
“I'd rather have the twenty in your pocket.”
Lindsay fished it out of her pocket and waved it in front of Leila. “It's yours if you'll tell me what your thinking about.”
“Is this bribery or blackmail?”
“Motivation.”
“Well, in that case, I was thinking that BC Ferries should spend their money buying new pipes for this boat instead of spending a fortune on duct tape.”
Lindsay frowned and looked beside her at the pipes coated in a fine layer of tape. “Very funny.”
Leila snatched the twenty out of her hand with a half-smile. “What were you thinking about?”
“You.”
“Should I be nervous?”
Lindsay turned to her. “I don't know. Should you be?” Leila groaned and turned back to the window. She hated it when her aunt answered her question with a question.
“I'll take that as a 'yes'.” Lindsay started the car and followed the car in front of them off the ship and past the cars waiting to board the ferry.
“Have you ever noticed that the people who are boarding the ferry always look happier than the people coming off?” Leila commented.
“Can't say I have.” Her aunt changed lanes and sped up as they reached the highway.
Feeling sleepy, Leila slouched in the seat and rested her head on the door. “Wake me up when we get home, will you?”
“Sure thing. Try not to drool on the upholstery.” The comment was met with a rather undignified snort from the passenger seat.