The Time Limit

Today started like another other day. I saw my little bother, Evan, off to school, made sure he didn't miss the bus, and then Kathy, my best friend, picked me up in her white Land Rover Evoque.

Kathy rolled the windows down, letting her strawberry blond hair, and mine brown, blow in the wind. The music blasted from the stereo, shaking the speakers.

Kathy took a sip of her iced coffee. "You seriously need to try getting out there more, Noa," she shouted over the music. "I mean, do you know how many guys would love to be with you?"

I shook my head as I turned the volume of the music down. "I'm just focusing on college right now. When the time comes, I'll meet the right guy."

Kathy rolled her green eyes. "You are twenty years old, Noa. This is the time to experiment with shit. Live a little." I leaned my head back against the headrest and gazed out of the window. I knew she was right. "I'm just saying, Noa. You do so much for everyone, but what about yourself? You deserve to have a little fun."

I sighed. "Fun is never on my schedule."

"Well, tonight is going to be fun, and that is on your schedule," Kathy smirked.

Every Friday Kathy and I went to a quaint little diner; it's themed like the 1950s. The staff dressed up according to the theme, and Kathy and I always got milkshakes and fries. During these little get-togethers, Evan went next door to our neighbors until I got back, and Kathy usually described her next Tinder conquest in grave detail.

"You're right." I smiled.

"Plus, I started talking to this new guy and I am dying to tell you about him. He asked me out for tomorrow night," Kathy squealed.

I wiggled my eyebrows. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Kathy rolled her eyes. "If I did that, I wouldn't have a date for tomorrow."

We finally arrived on campus and walked our separate ways; each of us having different lectures, except for my last class, where Kathy joined me.

The lectures went on as usual, the professor speaking too fast for me to take notes, most of the students were on their phones or watching something on their laptops, and during the two hour lectures, students fell asleep.

It was finally my last lecture of the day and I sat anxiously in the old lecture hall as I listened for my professor to call my name. Two weeks ago, Professor Masen assigned an essay about life and death situations. I had never been in a life-or-death situation, so like the perfect college student, I waited until the last second to finish the assignment, and instead of following the guidelines, I wrote about my mother's death.

My mom died two years ago from an unknown illness. It affected her for a few months prior until she took her final breath. It was a quick death, but a messy one. In the few months my mom was alive, she saved every paycheck she and my dad brought home. With the money they saved, she was able to pay off the house and have enough for me and Evan to go to college. I also received her retirement money, which was being saved for emergencies.

Before she died, she always told me the rain came before the rainbow. She even said it on her deathbed.

"Sweetheart," I remembered her grabbing my hand, "you have to fight. You fight hard. Promise me you will be strong."

"I promise, Momma," I spoke.

"That's my girl." She smiled weakly. Those were the last words she said to me. She fell asleep after and never woke up.

My mom's greatest passion was children. She moved to California when she was eighteen to go to school to be a pediatrician. Then, she met my dad, and everything seemed to be perfect. She helped my dad through his alcohol addiction; he wanted to be the best for her.

I strived to be like her, to bring light to the world. It was tough most days, though. My mom was always so caring, compassionate, and most of all, patient. I had more of my dad's personality; rash, impatient, and sarcastic.

If it hadn't been for my mom, we would have lost everything. Instead, Evan and I lost two crucial components in our lives: our parents.

"Noa Larson," Professor Masen called.

Kathy nudged my elbow, pulling me out of my thoughts. "Noa, he's been calling your name."

I stood up from the old gray chair; the metal creaked against old, rusted hinges, and I numbly walked to the front of the lecture hall. My professor was about to call my name again when he spotted me making my way down the center aisle. He casually handed me my paper without looking up from the stack in his other hand, but I could feel the judgment rolling off of him in waves. He cleared his throat and called the next person down.

As I walked back to my seat, I turned the pages over in my hands, and my heart sank. Scrawled on the top right-hand corner, in a red circle, was a big fat 67%. Underneath my professor wrote, sorry for your loss, but not what I assigned.

I plopped into my seat, shrinking into it, hoping to hide from the self-embarrassment. Kathy tilted her head, holding up her thumb, wondering if I did well. I shook my head and scowled as I shoved the paper into my gray backpack and slung the straps over my shoulders.

"Noa?" Kathy hurriedly followed me out of the wooden lecture hall doors.

I shook my head. "Pretty sure he hates me."

Kathy rolled her eyes. "He doesn't hate you. You're probably his favorite student. You just didn't write what you were supposed to write. That's all." She held out her phone. "Do you mind taking a picture for my parents?"

I grabbed her phone and snapped photos of Kathy posing with her A paper.

Kathy came from a long line of lawyers. When she was born, her parents expected her to go into the family business. They even started teaching her terms of the law when she was learning to speak, but when Kathy said she wanted to be a teacher, her parents were furious. They threatened to cut her off and not help pay for her college tuition, hoping it would change Kathy's mind. They didn't speak for six months, and during those months, Kathy spent the holidays with Evan and me. Kathy and her parents eventually patched things up after the new year.

Teaching was something Kathy and I had in common. We both wanted to be teachers, me, a math teacher. Numerology was my addiction; numbers always told a story; they never lied. Ten was my favorite number. I was born in October, the tenth month of the year at 10:10 a.m.. It was the standard beginning for any countdown. Babies were born with ten fingers and ten toes.

After handing Kathy her phone back, she immediately sent the photos to her parents.

"If he doesn't hate me, he should have given me some credit for even writing the paper. Yeah, it wasn't exactly what he assigned, but it was still on the topic life and death," I said.

"So, you think he should show favoritism?" Kathy questioned.

I sighed. "I guess not."

"That's what I figured. You're too good of a person to want that." Kathy put her phone in her back pocket. "I have to get to my next class. I'll pick you up tonight for your scheduled fun."

I nodded.

"See you later alligator," Kathy called over her shoulder.

"In a while, crocodile," I said quietly, watching Kathy's retreating figure.

To most people, it was just a casual farewell, but for us, it was more. Alligators and crocodiles were sometimes confused for one another, but they were different in small ways; just like me and Kathy.

Crocodiles were bigger than alligators, and Kathy was taller than me. Crocodiles were also more aggressive than alligators. Kathy was a person who wasn't afraid to get in someone's face, calling them out on their bullshit, where I liked to beat around the bush, not wanting to hurt anyone's feelings.

Kathy was an extrovert and had a ton of guy friends; I'm pretty sure she had hooked up with half of them. She always dragged me to parties, introducing her friends to me, hoping some kind of connection would happen. It never did.

Outside of Gellman Hall, the air was thick and heavy. The California springs and summers were typically dry, so as I glanced up at the dark, gloomy sky; thick gray clouds blocking the sun, I couldn't help but feel like something was off.

I sat on the bus stop bench, waiting for the bus to bring me home. The city buses always made me nauseous the way they whipped around corners like a bat out of hell, but for once a week, my stomach could handle the chaos. The rest of the week Kathy was available to give me rides home, but on Friday's, she had an evening class, which left me to fend for myself.

I didn't have my own car, yet. It was my next big purchase. My dad had a car, but he hid the keys from me so he could go to bars or the liquor store. After my mom died, he went back to his old ways and resorted to alcohol to heal his pain. I found the keys once and hid them from him. He didn't care for that very much; threatening to kick me out of the house if I didn't return them to him.

I would have gone, too. I would have stayed at Kathy's apartment, in her spare bedroom. She offered me the room when she first bought the place, but the same reason I said now then, was the same reason I gave the keys back to my dad. I chose to stay for Evan.

I started seeing my dad differently after he started drinking. At first, he seemed to notice the change in my tone toward him, and it seemed to bother him, but now, he barely batted an eye.

The bus arrived with a hiss and the doors opened. I stepped on, showing the driver my school ID and found a seat near the front of the bus, hoping it would help with the nausea.

As the bus continued down the streets, the houses got more extravagant. My favorite had white brick with a black door and gold accents. The windows had black shutters and, on the ground, in front of the large living room window, was a flower bed with orange and red tulips. In the front yard, a child's swing hung from a tree branch, and an orange and blue plastic slide stood next to it.

I used to have a similar slide I used to play on. I would spend hours going down and trying to walk up the slope unsuccessfully. It was my favorite thing to do, even though my mom warned me many times I could have gotten injured.

As I remembered little pieces of my childhood, the rain started to pour out of the sky, hitting the window of the bus like tiny pieces of pebbles.

The bus stopped at the end of my street, and I stepped off into the downpour. I was immediately soaked and goosebumps rose on my bare arms and legs.

I saw my house in-between the sheets of rain; the large tan modern home with white shutters looked blurry as I raced toward it. Rain pelted against my face like tiny pins while my backpack bounced against my lower back.

I reached my front door in a huff and entered the threshold. I shut the door behind me and took my shoes off. I sat my backpack onto the floor, watching the water drip down the sides and onto the hardwood. I noticed a pair of red stilettos with red nail polish on the heel next to my dad's dress shoes he used to wear when he was a CEO of a coffee company.

My head snapped up when I heard moans coming from the living room. My brows furrowed as I searched for something to use as a weapon and decided on my backpack. With all of the heavy textbooks it could do some damage. I tiptoed toward the entrance of the living room and peeked around the corner.

I found my dad and a red-headed woman clinging to each other. The woman moaned as my dad nibbled on her ear. A dozen empty beer bottles littered the carpet and coffee table. Our living room looked like a frat party got out of hand.

My backpack slipped from my fingers, landing with a hard thud.

"Who the hell are you?" The woman glanced up and glared.

I raised an eyebrow. "I think I'm supposed to be the one to ask you that."

"Ignore her, baby. It's just my damn kid," my dad soothed, pulling the woman closer.

My nose wrinkled up in disgust.

This is what my dad had resorted to. I wanted him to be happy, to get a job, and to find someone who would make him forget about his past pains, but not this way. Not by going to bars and skipping job interviews I would set up for him.

I rolled my eyes and went to the kitchen for a trash bag, when I noticed Evan's backpack wasn't on the table. I went back to the door, looking at the lined up shoes. Evan's were nowhere to be seen. I threw the garbage bag onto the floor and sprinted up the stairs, taking two at a time. I stopped outside Evan's bedroom door and knocked.

"Evan?" I waited. Usually, Evan was at the table doing homework or in his room, but when I didn't get a response, I took the door handle in my hand, trying to open it, but it was locked from the inside.

I stared at the door wondering if I should try to pick the lock, but I turned away and made my way back downstairs. I peeked into the living room once again and cleared my throat. "Hey Dad--"

The woman straighten up, straddling my dad. "Go away," she slurred.

I had enough of this. I took a few steps forward, pushing the woman's shoulders, rolling her off my dad. The woman landed with a thud and her dress rode up her hips, exposing her state of undress. Her arms reached around her trying to find a beer bottle.

"Dad? Do you know where Evan is?"

My dad released a harsh breath. "No clue." I rubbed my hand down my face, frustrated. "You can try the park," he mumbled.

I scoffed. "Why would he be at the park? It's storming outside."

"Beats me." He reached his arm out to the woman lying on the floor. "Come back here, baby. I'm not finished with you yet."

Irritated and disgusted, I walked back to the door, slipped on an old sweatshirt and put on my wet shoes. I took a deep breath before walking through the door and into the downpour.

I jogged down the street, my hair sticking to my face, and my clothes were soaked all the way through, giving me goosebumps. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, tingling as lightning flashed throughout the dark clouds. I kept jogging until I saw the little park I used to go to as a child. When I reached the edge of the swing set, I spotted Evan sitting in the yellow tunnel of the jungle gym, hiding from the rain.

I cupped my hands around my mouth and hollered his name. Evan looked up upon hearing me and waved with a massive smile; his blue eyes were bright with excitement as he ran toward me.

"Look what I found!" He shouted. He held something in his hands. It moved.

"What are you doing out here, Evan? You're going to get sick."

"I got off the bus and some nice guys brought me here. Noa, you've got to see what I found."

I stared at him confused. "You didn't stop at home?" Why was his bedroom door locked? I shook my head. "What are you doing off running with strangers? You should know better than that."

"No, I came straight here." Evan looked down at the toes of his shoes. "I'm sorry I ran off, but I found a baby bunny! Can we keep it?"

I kneeled down to look at the rabbit, my bare knee squished into the soft ground. "Evan, you know Dad won't--"

Everything went pitch black, and not a single speck of light shined through. I stood up, feeling for my eyes, but they were wide with fright. I spun around, taking a few steps forward, hoping to see something, anything, but it was like the sun vanished.

"Noa? I can't see!" Evan cried out.

I tried to calm my erratic breathing. "Stay where you are. Don't move, do you understand?" I held out my hands in front of me, feeling the rain splatter against them, hoping to find Evan, but I was unsuccessful. I wished I hadn't spun around; now, I was confused about what direction I was facing.

"I'm scared," Evan whimpered.

I turned toward Evan's quivering voice. "Say something else, Evan." I took a step forward. "Try reaching for my hands."

I heard Evan's shoes squish against the ground as he took a step forward. He said my name once again, but it sounded muffled as if I was underwater. My head felt cloudy and warm like I was listening to the ocean. Behind me, I heard a quiet, melodic voice, seeming to drone out everything around me.

"Noa Larson, come with us, and nobody gets hurt."

I couldn't think, couldn't move. I was frozen in place. I was yanked back into a chest; strong arms held mine down like hands of steel, and a hand closed around my mouth; a rag with a foul smell covered it, making me gag. The cloud in my brain vanished and my mind started working again. I fought against my attacker: kicking, squirming my body to loosen their hold on me, scratching, anything to get me free, but my strength was weakening, and my legs gave out beneath me. The strong arms caught me before I hit the wet ground. My last thought was of alligators and crocodiles; would I always be the alligator? The weaker species?

I heard Evan's whimpers slowly fading into the background as my eyelids felt heavy and closed.