1 The Hasty Rabbit

"Did you know that the center of our galaxy tastes like raspberries?" I told Mikey as he colors the portrait of some British queen.

"Was' a galasi Noah?" he says in an almost indecipherable voice.

"It's the sky: full of stars and planets and everything."

"I like galasi?"

"Is that a question?"

"Is that question?"

I look at the clock. 8:22 pm. They should've been here 30 minutes ago. Could they have crashed the car and died? James was a terrible driver and he often drove at speeds above the speed limit. I've seen videos of cars jump off the road when they go too fast. I hope they just ran out of gas. I get pretty anxious when things don't happen to my predictions. Even simple stuff, like getting a right face on a dice. Mikey giggles beside me and I look back to see why; the queen was now awfully green.

"The queen is gween." he exclaims.

"Yea." I say and he bursts into laughter.

I love babysitting - it's tiring, but I'd rather talk to Mikey than someone like Pears, or Dylan, or Michael or some other guys at my school. Babies look at you with a smile, and then you know they're happy. They cry and you know they need to eat. They're like dogs, but babies.

It's different for adults.

One time my mom taught me: if someone opens their mouth like this, it means their happy. If they close it like this, it means their sad. That was ok when I was 5. People my age, however, have a cacophony of emotions. Old Linda, who lives by the street and used to look after me says that humans are complicated creatures, and complicated creatures have a whole range of feelings. You can be disgusted and tired. You can be lonely and depressed. You could even be joyful and sad at the same time - and I just don't get it. I tried to think about this for a long time, and when I couldn't designate a mouth shape for each, I stop and curled like a ball.

A car revs off from the outside and I knew they made it. The doorbell rings so I meet them downstairs.

"Honey, how are you two doing?" Aunt Lisa asks as she enters, food and stuff in her hand. I could smell the wine, still crisp, coming out of her mouth. She was drunk.

"Are you drunk?" I asked her.

"Well, I hope so because why in the world would we have stopped at that fucking dinner!" James exclaims.

"I meant Aunt Lisa."

"Ok, pretty boy. Relaaaax." he says, laughing as he exhales a fume of mint-flavored cigarette through my face.

"James!" Aunt Lisa yells, shoving him off.

I never liked James. He was a very loud man; the modern equivalent of a dunce. He used words like "cold feet" which was crazy because he never associates it with anything cold. He is often angry and yells at me for no reason.

"I helped Mikey color the book."

"Sounds wonderful! We had a lovely night ourselves. There were so many people in the theater, oh Noah, you should've been there. Hans Pilgelm played Hamlet like he was born for the ----"

I laughed to make her feel happy - but I didn't hear anything after she mentioned the theater. Theaters are one of my fears; to be in a place with so many things happening.

I remember when I was 10 years old; my mom brought me to a city called Portlock. They didn't have cabs so we took the subway. In the station, the line was stagnant and long. We joined the bunch right before the stairs. The crowd started to squeeze. I hate being touched so I withdrew myself and stood beside my mom, which was right on top of the groove. From this angle, I could see people ahead. There was an old woman seated on a bench right before the escalator. She was reading a magazine called "Times". Beside her was a guy, blonde and in a bright business-like outfit. To the right was a lady in flannels, and she was talking to a guy behind a glass. I look at them with curiosity, and when the guy gave her a ticket, she left and the line moved a step.

The smell in the station was terrible. I couldn't describe it in detail but it seemed to me like an amalgam of sweat, puke, and oil. With all the people that were present, I was getting dizzy. Suddenly, a cellphone rings from out of nowhere. I clasp my hand to my ear and asked my mom to make it stop. The noise in the crowd was getting louder. I did what you would call groaning. She yanks my arm and tells me to calm down. With the ringing, I could hear footsteps, and the sound of an oncoming train, and the traffic, and the announcer announcing the arrival of the train, and the traffic, and the cry of a baby and everything was just a muffled expanse of chaos. I was quickly spinning out of control.

"Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop."

I was on the floor. But it didn't stop. The ringing, which was once a low rhythmic tone, was now an earsplitting shrill. It was drilling through my head. She kept trying to talk me down but it was no use. I tried to run but my mother was quick. I lost consciousness and never found out what happened next.

"Lisa? Why don't you come here for a sec?" James calls from above.

Aunt Lisa climbed upstairs and told me to stay there. I was on the couch, waiting. If there was anything I was good at, it was waiting.

To ease myself, I would play mental Minesweeper.

It's very easy actually. You start from the corner - since the algorithm makes it easier if you have fewer tiles to begin with - and slowly work your way to the side until you can do a window strategy – which is when you have a 1 touching 2 or more tiles. It's the inverse of the actual Minesweeper - you get to choose the number of mines around a tile. Then, it's not a game of logic anymore; but of memory.

I look at the clock.

17 minutes had passed.

Suddenly, I hear a loud thud. I reasoned it must be the cat. But it happened again. I could hear Aunt Lisa cry. And then there was a loud crash followed by glass breaking. Aunt Lisa was yelling. James too. And Mikey. I was getting sick. Aunt Lisa was now screaming like an animal.

"James. Please."

"YOU FAT SLUT! YOU THINK I WOULDN'T KNOW!?"

"James, it's not what you think."

I couldn't hear anymore because my hands were all over my ears. I curled into the floor and started counting to mitigate the noise.

"1. 2. 3. 4..."

Then the door opened.

"5. 6. 7. 8..."

I didn't see who it was. I wish it were policemen. Policemen always settled things.

"Jesus Christ. Noah? Are you alright?"

I don't know who it was but she sounded like a woman. She tried to grab me so I kicked her away.

"Noah, it's me don't worry. Oh God, what in the hell is going on here."

Slowly, it dawned on me that she smelled like Coco Mademoiselle. No one else smelled like Coco Mademoiselle except my mom. I opened my eyes and I saw her.

"Come on now. You're all right. I'm here"