The Strangeness Within Pt. 01

Author's note:

This is the first part of a coming-of-age story with elements of fantasy, suspense, and inevitably romance, because it seems everything I write is a romance. It seemed to fit best in this category. There will be sexual content but perhaps less than most stories here, at least to start.

This portion of the story is set in the late 1980s to early 1990s. All sexual activity is among consenting adults over 18.

..........................*** Prologue ***...........................

Javier Sanchez was flat on his back when he met the girl who would one day change his life.

"Excuse me," a small voice said. "Are you quite all right?"

Javier blinked confusion at the girl leaning over him. Black hair, very white skin. Something odd about her eyes, but she looked friendly. Must be their new neighbor. He'd accidentally popped out of the woods into her backyard before tripping on something.

He shook the leaves from his hair and sat up, extending his hand. He offered his most winning smile, the one that made the girls at school giggle.

"I'm Javier," he said. "And thank you, I'm just fine."

She gave him an odd look and didn't take his hand. But then again, he was pretty dirty, and she was wearing a fine dress. Like the ones Mamá put on when she occasionally dragged him to church.

"Javier," she repeated carefully. His smile broadened, because she said it perfectly the first time. White girls rarely managed that.

"My name is Esther Thompson," she said, and she might have said something more if Pedro hadn't caught up to him.

"You're IT!" his cousin yelled. "Oh, hello. Who are you? Do you want to play?"

"My name is Esther Thompson," the girl repeated, and then just stood there looking nervous. Maybe she was shy, or weird in the head like Fat Charlie. But Charlie was nice, and Mamá said you should always be polite.

"You're weird," concluded Pedro, before dashing off back into the forest.

"That was Pedro," sighed Javier. "He's only nine. I'll be twelve next month. How old are you?"

Esther fidgeted and glanced nervously behind her.

"I am twelve years, one month, and nine days old. And I'm afraid I'm not allowed to play."

With that she turned and walked towards her house. Javier felt a pang of sympathy. What kind of parents didn't let their kid out to play?

"I'm out in the woods a lot," he called. "I live right next door. Just wander into the trees a little and maybe you'll find me. We can be quiet, so no one would know we're playing."

He knew she'd heard him. But it was six months before he saw her again.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Esther asked from behind him.

In his surprise Javier nearly knocked over his log fortress. He hadn't exactly forgotten her, but over the months he'd sometimes wondered if he'd invented her entirely.

"Uh," he said. "It's a fort. Big square building that you can hide in and fight off anyone who comes."

Esther nodded seriously. She was wearing another fine dress, slightly muddy at the bottom. They were far enough into the woods that their houses were barely visible through the trees, so she must've walked up pretty quietly. For a while she seemed content simply to watch him break up more little branches and arrange them. Javier found he didn't mind her company.

"Mother is sick," she said eventually. "She said I could play out back instead of lessons. She didn't tell me how far I could go."

Javier grinned. He liked this odd girl. And she was kind of cute, in a weird way. He'd figured out what it was about her eyes: they weren't quite the same color. Somewhere between dark green and brown. Even some blue mixed in one of them. She looked away, embarrassed, when he looked at her too long.

Over the next few weeks she came out more often, and he learned a little about her. She'd been home-schooled her whole life. She was an only child, like him, but her parents were really religious, so religious they didn't even *go* to church. Aside from him the only kids she knew were from their little home-schooling circle.

It was hard to believe she was the same age as him. She seemed so grown-up, though even for a girl she was really small. He invited her to play tag, or climb trees, but she always declined. He thought it might be worry about her clothes or something, but then he felt bad when she explained one day.

"I get tired easily," she said, looking uncomfortable.

Javier wanted to know if there was something wrong with her, but he could almost hear Mamá telling him not to pry about other people's health. So he nodded seriously, the way Esther did, and set his mind to inventing some games they could play with sticks.

Sometimes she found him a couple times in a week. But then he didn't see her for a few months.

"We should make a signal," he said when she finally crept up on him one day. They'd worked out that they could just see each other's bedroom windows. "I'll open my blind halfway and put my big green frog in the window when I'm in the woods."

* * *

The summer after sixth grade was the best of his life. He told Esther more and more of his life, and was rewarded with a smile, or some of the odd little things she'd learned. Javier was pretty good at school, but she was like a walking encyclopedia. It seemed like she was so good at schoolwork that her mother found it hard to keep her busy. Javier felt guilty about that, especially when he figured out that her mother was getting sick more often.

One afternoon Mamá was out getting her hair done, and he convinced Esther to sneak into his bedroom window with him. She was flushed, out of breath, and glowing with happiness when he finally pulled her in.

"Who are they?" she asked, pointing at some of his posters.

"Soccer players. You know, football." But she didn't know, and he spent the next few minutes trying to explain it all. He liked Esther, but she was so weird, and for someone so smart it sometimes seemed she didn't know anything.

"Javier," she said after a long silence. "What's the earliest thing you remember?"

He smiled and told her about playing with their old dog under the swing set, back before Dad left.

"I remember nothing before I was eight years old," Esther said slowly. "Please, don't tell anyone this. Mother and Father told me never to speak of it. But I don't understand. They've told me things I did before, and that's what I'm to tell everyone about my early childhood. But it's like hearing about another girl. They said I hit my head, but ..."

She fell silent.

"You can tell me, Esther," Javier said. "You know I would never tell anyone."

Esther shook her head. "I found some old photos," she said. "In the bottom of a cabinet when I was looking for paper clips. Mother and Father, and a little girl who is definitely not me."

Javier frowned. That really was strange.

"Maybe you were adopted," he said. "Something bad happened to their kid, and later they adopted you?"

"I've thought about that. It makes sense, because that little girl looks a lot more like my parents than I do. But then why don't I remember anything? And that's not all. I'm --"

For a minute it seemed Esther was going to cry, something so shocking that Javier didn't know what to do. But she swallowed and shook her head, and she didn't tell him whatever it was. And the next day, it was too late.

* * *

"Javier?"

At Mamá's call he trapped the soccer ball and rushed to the door. She had that carefully arranged look on her face that never meant good news.

"I've just gotten a call from Mrs. Thompson next door. I guess you know their daughter?"

He hung his head. He wasn't used to keeping things from Mamá, but Esther had been so insistent.

"Yes, Mamá," he said. "Did she --"

"She told me that Esther simply was not allowed to see you. Have you two been getting up to something I should know about?"

"Nothing! We're just friends, and we play in the woods together. Her parents are so strict, it's not fair! She isn't allowed to play at all."

Mamá shook her head, but her expression softened. "That's for her parents to decide. And I hope you aren't thinking to make more trouble for her."

That was exactly what he'd been thinking, of course. Javier felt himself deflate at the prospect of never seeing Esther again.

"If it's meant to be, it's meant to be," Mamá said with a sigh. "Have patience, mijo. Let's go get you some school supplies. Almost seventh grade!"

..........................*** Chapter 1 ***........................... -- Five Years Later --

"Hey, Javier! They told me you were fast, man! Pick up the pace."

Javier suppressed a swear as Billy passed him. It was just his blond teammate attempting to make Javier feel better. It was bad enough to start his senior year of varsity soccer sidelined with an ankle he'd twisted while trying to show off. And now Mr. Walstein said he was well enough to hobble around on his crutches during gym class. "Wouldn't want you to get out of shape!" the teacher had said in his fake jovial way.

Ahead of him was another walker, a small dark-haired girl he didn't know. He sped up his hopping, if only to have someone to talk to. Maybe she was cute.

The recognition didn't come until she turned her face to him. She seemed barely changed, almost unnervingly like his memory. Her mismatched eyes, her slightly weird face -- but she'd grown a little, though she seemed trying to disappear into her baggy T-shirt and sweatpants. It was still more of her body than he'd ever seen, and it made him uncomfortable.

"Esther," he managed, a flood of emotions pouring through him. It was so strange. He was comfortable around girls, and they liked him. Esther's sudden reappearance had melted all of that away.

She nodded with what seemed to be a kind of sad resignation. It pierced Javier right through, even after all these years.

"Javier," she said, breathing heavily. She glanced at his crutches. "I am sorry about your foot."

"I'm sorry about your mother," he said, immediately wishing he'd kept his mouth shut. They'd found out indirectly some months ago. He'd worked up the courage to go knock on her door a few times, but no one had answered. "We wanted to pay our respects --"

"It was," Esther breathed, "a small service. We -- knew it was coming. Multiple sclerosis is unpleasant. But Mother was at peace. In the end."

There didn't seem anything he could say to that, so he hopped along next to her in silence. But there was none of the ease they used to have.

He'd used his window to signal her for months after that terrible day so many summers ago. He'd changed some things a little every day, so she'd know he wasn't just leaving it that way. She'd finally replied, with a real message on paper, folded on their favorite sitting log.

"I'm sorry. Goodbye," it had said. Unsigned, but it had some of those weird geometric drawings Esther was always doodling, the kind that made your brain hurt if you stared at them too long.

His memories were interrupted by Billy's voice.

"Ooh, you got a new girlfriend, Javier? Clara's gonna be pissed."

"Shut the fuck up," snapped Javier. "This is Esther, an old friend of mine."

His teammate looked shocked as he jogged by, but at least he shut up. The good thing about being so easygoing is people noticed when you lost your temper.

Esther was giving him a look he wasn't sure he understood. Damn, why had Billy opened his big mouth about Clara?

The class was wrapping up and they awkwardly headed back to the gym together.

"I'm really glad to see you again, Esther."

"It was nice to see you, Javier," she said. And then they went their separate ways.

* * *

"Mmm," mumbled Clara as his tongue brushed her pink nipple. Her hands clutched his head, but she didn't stop him.

She'd implied as much yesterday after the party for his eighteenth birthday. "A real man now, aren't you?" she'd whispered. "I'll have a special present for you to unwrap."

Her breath quickened when he slipped his hand down her panties. He shifted position and grunted when he bumped his head. The old station wagon really wasn't designed for this.

Javier wasn't a total novice with girls, but he'd never wanted anything more than Clara right now. The way she moaned, low in the back of her throat. The taste of her sweat, the feel of her body's heat, the curves of her full breasts, the warm wetness between her legs. His dick strained against his shorts and he wished she would touch him. But Clara seemed overwhelmed with her own pleasure, and that was more than enough for now.

He trailed kisses down her belly, reaching the soft fuzz above her lacy panties, and then licked her slit right through them. She'd half-soaked through already, and she bucked her hips in surprise at the sensation, gripping his hair more tightly. He pulled her soaked underwear aside and began to lick her with determination.

"Oh, Javier," Clara murmured, her legs shuddering. He reveled in her taste, subtly different from the other two girls he'd eaten out. She had a hard little nub of a clit, and as soon as he touched his tongue to it she nearly kicked him.

"Fuck!" she yelped, then giggled a bit.

"Good?" he mumbled through her bush.

"Christ, yeah," she said, stroking his neck and urging him on.

He slipped a single finger inside her tight passage as he caressed her clit with the tip of his tongue. She was panting loudly, and he was bizarrely reminded of Esther, the way she sounded when she was doing her best to keep up in gym class.

Discomfort and arousal twined together. He'd never thought about Esther that way, not really. Maybe some weird dreams. But Clara was about to climax, and she was sobbing his name, so he pushed all thoughts of Esther aside as Clara shuddered against him.

It was beautiful, the way she slowly relaxed, her legs falling slack and her trusting eyes opening to smile at him. And Javier was terribly confused, because he hadn't quite gotten Esther out of his mind.

He only shared gym and math class with Esther. Over the last month he'd been unsurprised to find she was brilliant at math, though she was so quiet that Mr. Langdon couldn't even coax her to answer questions. And she politely declined any of Javier's attempts to spend time with her, even just to study. Not that she needed his help in any subject as far as he could tell. She was more an enigma than ever. And the truth was he missed her badly, now that she was on the periphery of his life again.

"Penny for your thoughts?" teased Clara.

Javier forced a smile. He might be distracted, but his body was more than interested in the here and now.

"You ready?" he asked, sliding up gently against her. She softly stroked his dick where it pressed against her thigh.

"Fuck me, Javier," Clara said.

With a groan he thrust the tip inside her. It was easier than he expected, though in any case Clara hadn't pretended she was a virgin. He didn't care about that, just the warm enveloping of her pussy, the look of quiet satisfaction on her face, his own quickening arousal as he pounded inside her. The slap of his thighs against her sounded embarrassingly loud.

"That's right, Javier," she urged. "Come inside me."

She'd dropped plenty of hints that she was on the pill. Just as well, because he was already leaking inside her, and her encouragement was driving him to the edge. He wanted to make it last, but suddenly it was too late. He groaned and buried his face in her shoulder, kissing and clinging to her as he emptied himself into her warmth.

Then she was pulling away, much before he wanted, giggling as she looked for something to wipe up with. He gestured to the side pocket where he kept some napkins for spills. This probably counted. He smiled and stroked her butt, but Clara didn't seem in such a cuddling mood anymore. It was all right. They were a good pair, and it was pretty nice just admiring the rounded curve of her ass. Except that now he was thinking about Esther again, and he didn't even want her in the same category as Clara. He didn't know what that meant, really. He thought he loved Clara. Surely he did.

..........................*** Chapter 2 ***...........................

Esther closed her history textbook and flopped back on her bed. She liked to take this little time to let things collect in her head. Though she remembered every word perfectly after once through, connecting it all up properly was much harder. There were so many facts bouncing around in her head. She took her sketchpad and let her pencil idly doodle.

She didn't really understand why she did it, or what those patterns meant, but they seemed to help her with the connecting. Some kind of weird memory aid, she supposed. Of all the abnormal things about her, lately this habit didn't seem all that strange.

It was Friday, only four o'clock, and she was already finished with her homework. Father wouldn't be home from work for a couple hours, and then he wouldn't be much company when he arrived. But at least she could cook him dinner like usual.

She felt a familiar pang as she bustled around the kitchen. Mother had insisted on doing this, even when her hands shook so much that Esther had to help her at every step.

"Our miracle daughter," her mother had said so often towards the end, the way she had in some of Esther's earliest memories. In those early times she'd assumed it had to do with Mother's difficulty having a child at all, owing to her illness. The fact she couldn't have any more. Later Esther had become sure it meant more than just that. But that made her think of Javier, and the secret he'd kept for her all these years.

Whenever she peeked out her bedroom window she could still see his window. In her weaker moments she'd sometimes tried to spy on him, though she really couldn't see much except when he'd come out to play between their houses. But he'd found other friends over the years. Some girls he seemed to like, who seemed to like him back.

She sighed and went through the mechanics of cooking. Replicating Mother's recipes exactly was as easy as remembering anything else. Sometimes Father stared at his food, no doubt recalling when Mother prepared it. But the few times Esther had experimented, nothing had tasted right. She didn't think she was really a very good cook. Just good at copying. A parrot.

When Father arrived, she knew it would be a bad night for him. He had that redness that said he'd been crying in the car. He forgot to say grace, so Esther had to rush through it for both of them. And though he tried to show enthusiasm for her cooking, he excused himself early. Worst of all, he took the bottle of whiskey with him to his room, avoiding her gaze entirely.

She cleaned up the meal and ran the dishwasher, and for a while she simply sat in the chair, not really thinking about anything. It was a rare luxury when her brain shut off enough for that, and of course it didn't last long this time. She started to think about Javier again, and what he might be doing with that girl Clara. A real girl, with breasts and a round butt and normal --

She took a breath and retreated from the familiar self-pity. Father wasn't doing well, and the last thing he needed was another person to worry about.

But Esther was all out of sorts again, the way she'd been more and more lately. There was something restless inside her, fluttering every which way, demanding her attention. An itch she didn't know how to scratch. She had some notion of what it was, and she was long past Mother's admonitions about touching herself. But her experiments over the years didn't give her hope she'd ever be able to scratch this particular itch. Still, she supposed it was something to occupy herself.

She went to her room and locked the door. Mother had discouraged her from doing that, but there was no chance Father would bother her, particularly tonight. Hopefully it would be like usual, and he'd fall asleep before drinking too much.