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  Whole in the Clouds

  WHOLE IN THE CLOUDS

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, places, incidents, and dialogue are the product of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real, or if real, are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, either living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 by Kristine Kibbee

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  For more information, to inquire about rights to this or other works, or to purchase copies for special educational, business, or sales promotional uses please write to:

  The Zharmae Publishing Press, L.L.C.

  5638 Lake Murray Blvd, Suite 217

  La Mesa, California 91942

  www.zharmae.com

  FIRST EDITION

  Printed in the United States of America

  Zharmae Publishing, logo, and the TZPP logo are trademarks of The Zharmae Publishing Press, L.L.C.

  ISBN: 978-1-937365-48-6

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Whole in the Clouds

  Kristine Kibbee

  Spokane| Seattle | Portland

  San Francisco | Los Angeles | La Mesa

  Dedication

  For all the misfits who feel backwards in their bones.

  One: Miss Misfit

  Cora Catlin lived in a very normal and perpetually dull neighborhood peppered with identical houses. If it hadn’t been for the pea-green shutters her mother had insisted on when the house was being built, Cora might not have been able to distinguish her house from any of the others on the block. She often daydreamed that she might accidentally walk into the wrong house and discover a whole new life inside.

  When she walked through the door, a warm “Welcome home, champ” might greet her, accompanied by compliments on her recent success in the classroom, or perhaps even on the basketball court. Maybe in this new life she would be a bubbly cheerleader or that tenacious jock her father secretly yearned for. Her hair would be blonde, shiny and straight as a Barbie doll’s. Her eyes would sparkle as brightly as her dazzling smile, which would melt all whom she encountered.

  This fantasy life always seemed so much more pleasing to Cora than her reality.

  It wasn’t that Cora despised her average life—it was only that she felt out of place in it, as if something was missing. She always hoped that somewhere deep down inside there was something, just one thing about her, that was special. Once she found that something, Cora was certain it would make her feel whole. Sadly, her last twelve years of wishing and dreaming had yielded nothing but a grimace that she woke with every morning.

  “Chin up,” tittered Mrs. Catlin, as she peered down at Cora mashing at her oatmeal. Cora looked up, feigned a smile and returned to digging at the cereal as if searching for buried treasure. “I know it’s not choco-filled or sugar blasted like you like, but it’s good for you.” Cora’s mother pushed on, ignoring the look of disagreement on her daughter’s face.

  Cora knew that her mother meant well, but was tired of being reminded at every meal that she was fat. If she avoided mirrors, shopping, and the insults hurled by kids at school, she could almost forget about the pudge she hid beneath her baggy clothes.

  Unfortunately, for both Cora and her mother, Mrs. Catlin was in the habit of looking at her every day and couldn’t see past the plump little girl that her daughter had become. Even with her vigilant monitoring of Cora’s meals, Mrs. Catlin was astonished by the fact that Cora repeatedly failed to lose weight, and instead only continued to gain it.

  However bleak the outlook, Mrs. Catlin continued on the dieting warpath, and though Cora never enjoyed the results, she tried her best to recognize the love she hoped was behind it.

  Cora’s father rustled his paper, drawing her attention to him, and winked. He nodded in the direction of his briefcase with one eyebrow arched. The case, which Cora had long since decided was magic, was sure to contain an abundance of “after breakfast” treats for her to choose from.

  Like his daughter, Mr. Catlin had an abnormally strong liking for sweets. The two would spend many lazy Sunday afternoons sneaking goodies from various hiding places around the house while Mrs. Catlin was indisposed. Cora knew this was the source of her dieting downfall, but she really didn’t care. Food seemed to be the only source of happiness she could truly depend on, and that had come to mean a lot.

  “So, are you excited about your big day today?” Mrs. Catlin called from the kitchen, momentarily distracting Cora from the raspberry jam that her father was spreading over his toast.

  “Oh, yeah. I guess so.”

  “You’re gonna have so much fun!” Mrs. Catlin beamed at Cora. “First day of middle school!”

  “Uh-huh,” Cora murmured, nodding obediently. She could only guess what fantasies her mother had running through her head.

  After finishing the last of the breakfast dishes, Mrs. Catlin merrily skipped off to get ready for the day, mumbling about how exciting it was for Cora to be starting middle school.

  Mr. Catlin waited patiently until they heard the sound of the bedroom door closing and then pushed a slice of toast soaked in jam toward Cora. She smiled appreciatively and began munching away as he retrieved a package of chocolate chip muffins out of his briefcase and placed it next to her plate.

  A familiar feeling of pleasure and satisfaction surged through her as the muffins disappeared into Cora’s mouth. She was actually feeling good for a brief moment before suddenly recalling the day’s plans like a punch to the gut. Cora rose and kissed her father on the cheek before heading to her room.

  “Try to have some fun at school today, honey,” he soothed as Cora trudged up the stairs with heavy footsteps.

  “I’ll try, Daddy.”

  Cora glanced affectionately back at her father and wondered how he managed to love her despite the fact that she was growing increasingly plump and ugly by the minute.

  Cora marveled at her father’s ability to seem so upbeat and carefree. Even when things were rough, he could always see the brighter side, calming the moody Cora and her hysterical mother. Cora sometimes wondered whether she would’ve been more optimistic about all of the awful things that seemed to happen to her if Mr. Catlin had been her biological father. Even though Mr. and Mrs. Catlin had adopted Cora as an infant, she seemed to have taken on most of her adoptive father’s physical characteristics, but little of his personality. As much as she loved him, Cora couldn’t help feeling that she’d gotten the short end of the stick.

  Upstairs in her room, Cora looked into the mirror and saw Mr. Catlin’s wide, flat, freckled nose, drab brown hair, and ever-increasing double chin staring right back at her. She always felt as though her insides didn’t match her outsides in the slightest, and wished she knew why the beauty that she saw inside never seemed to shine through to the surface. Everything felt backward.

  Mrs. Catlin appeared in her daughter’s doorway. “Come on now, Gloomy Gus!” she exclaimed cheerfully. “It’s time for you to head out!”

  Cora rolled her eyes and shuffled out the door.

  Two: Catlin the Fatlin

  The only good thing that came with starting sixth grade was Cora’s freedom from the bus. While her parents were fully aware that she hated the great yellow beast, they had insisted that she ride it until she was old enough to walk to and from school alone. So, as she stepped out into the brisk September morning, Cora was quite content, despite her destination.

  A quick backward glance toward Cora’s house revealed the faint silhouette of her mother in th
e front room window, barely visible in the inky darkness. As her footsteps carried Cora into the cool blackness of morning, she glanced often over her shoulder, awaiting Mrs. Catlin’s absence. It was only once she’d reached the next block that her mother’s outline finally disappeared from the picture-frame window. A devious smirk spread across Cora’s face as she darted back a half block and made her way toward the well-beaten path that would lead her into the forest that lay behind the housing complex.

  “Now I don’t want you going in those woods. You hear me?” Mrs. Catlin had warned just that morning. “They’re dangerous,” she’d added as she lopped spoonfuls of oatmeal into Cora’s breakfast bowl. Cora had nodded while her fingers were crossed beneath the table, trying desperately to avoid her mother’s guilt-detecting stare.

  “I know, Mom, I won’t.”

  Cora gulped back a pang of guilt as she made her way down the path but soon became entranced by the sound of water washing over the pebbled bed of a nearby stream. Her mother’s words washed away with the current. Nothing can compare to this, Cora thought.

  The quiet calm of the forest overtook her as Cora wandered deeper and deeper into its embrace. The smooth scent of pine and musky perfume of the earth overwhelmed her senses and drew Cora into a trance as she walked along, nearly forgetting her destination. Just rising over a neighboring hill, the sun teased its coming arrival, spreading orange light over the forest floor in a warm blanket.

  Sadly, the clearing ahead would be the end of her journey, and the beginning of an unpleasant day. Cora trudged ahead, desperately trying to honor at least one of her mother’s requests: remain positive.

  “Hey!” shouted a dark-haired boy. “It’s Catlin, the Fatlin!”

  “She’s even uglier than she was last year!” his friend added before the two boys high-fived with a snicker and ran off toward the school.

  Barnes Middle School looked unwelcoming against the soft September sky, like it wasn’t meant to be there. Cora had never been this close to the massive building before and found herself even more intimidated now than when she and her mother had driven past it earlier that summer. The scent of newness permeated the air—a smell of stucco and plastic. Even the grass seemed to be an unnaturally bright green, and too perfectly cropped. Everything about the school filled Cora with discomfort.

  “You’d best hurry it up, girl,” barked a salt-and-pepper-haired man who had walked quietly behind Cora. Based upon his attire she guessed he was a teacher.

  “Yes, sir,” Cora replied meekly. How long had she been staring at the building? Glancing around she noted that all of the other students seemed to have made their way inside already.

  The ring of the first period bell cut through the air and gave Cora a start. It was as unwelcome a sound as the nickname, “Catlin the Fatlin,” which had apparently followed her from elementary school.

  “Fantastic,” she said under her breath.

  #

  It was easy enough for Cora to find her classroom but going inside was a different matter altogether. She looked back and forth between her schedule and the classroom door at least a dozen times to make sure they matched. After she had convinced herself that she was indeed in the correct place, she decided it was too late to enter. Certainly she would disrupt the class and infuriate her teacher. Yes, it was best just to try again tomorrow, she decided. Cora was prepared to leave when she heard a disgruntled noise behind her. She turned around and came face-to-face with the same teacher who had told her to get to class outside only minutes ago.

  “And what are you doing out of class, little miss?”

  Cora’s mind went blank.

  “Umm,” was all that she could get out.

  If it was possible, the man now looked even more aggravated. Grabbing Cora by the cuff of her sweatshirt he spun her toward the classroom and pulled her through the door. In an instant they were both inside, being stared at by twenty surprised students.

  “Mr. Stuart?” A slender woman who was wiping down the dry-erase board at the head of the room stopped and regarded them curiously.

  “I found this one loitering outside your door, Ms. Shintaff,” Mr. Stuart stated. He seemed a little agitated that Ms. Shintaff had questioned him.

  “Yes, of course. What’s your name, dear?” asked Ms. Shintaff.

  “Her name’s Cora Fatlin!” shouted a dark-haired boy from the back of the room. Cora recognized him as Zachary Taylor, the same boy she’d encountered minutes ago.

  “I’ll have none of that, Mr. Taylor!” Ms. Shintaff appeared sincerely offended by his comment, and this comforted Cora more than the sweet perfume of lilacs in the woods.

  “C-Cora Catlin, ma’am,” she answered quietly, unable to look Ms. Shintaff in the eyes.

  “Well, Ms. Catlin, please feel free to take any available seat.”

  Cora was surprised by Ms. Shintaff’s kindness. She looked around the room for an open desk. Most of her favorite spots in the back of the class were already occupied. In fact, the entire classroom was nearly full, which left only seats in the front row for Cora to select from. She took one of those closest to the teacher’s desk and settled in with a creak. Giggles echoed through the room, followed by a stare-down from Ms. Shintaff.

  “Now, as I was saying…” Ms. Shintaff resumed explaining her expectations for the coming year.

  Withdrawing a notebook from her bag, Cora took a quick glance behind her to survey the other kids in her class. She recognized most of them from last year, but there were a few new faces that she secretly hoped would be nicer than all of the others. Then she saw them—the faces of her three tormentors: Sandy Stroud, Jamie Scott, and Sara Duncan. Sandy caught Cora looking in her direction and smirked while twirling a lock of her hair. Cora was almost afraid to turn back around and face the front for fear of what might happen behind her back.

  When first period finally came to an end, Cora let out a sigh of relief and made her way to her second class. She made it unscathed through second-period math, as well as her third-period English class. It wasn’t until the most dreaded period, gym class, that Cora was reminded of why she detested school so much.

  After fighting to open her new locker, Cora slinked into the gym a minute after the fourth-period bell had already rung. Ms. Cross, the gym teacher, gave her a hard look as Cora attempted to hide herself in the crowd of girls already inside. At the front of the crowd, looking very cool and athletic, stood Sandy, Jamie, and Sara. Cora’s stomach sank.

  “You all should have the uniforms I requested your parents buy for you,” Ms. Cross stated without question, while cradling a basketball in the crook of her right arm. “Go put them on.”

  After the group changed and returned to the gymnasium, Ms. Cross had them line up along the far wall of the gymnasium.

  “Today we’re playing basketball,” she announced.

  Cora’s stomach was in an enormous knot. She wished for a fire alarm, an infectious disease outbreak… anything but basketball! Quieting her imploring whispers to the heavens, Cora squished herself between Bertha Bottom and Julie Harris. Neither looked any more excited about the game than she did.

  “I’ll appoint captains, and then they’ll be picking the teams.”

  As Cora expected, Sandy Stroud was appointed captain, along with Brooke Sutton, an athletic-looking girl who had transferred from a neighboring school district.

  Picking teams went by quickly until it was only Cora and Bertha left in the lineup.

  “We choose Bertha,” Brooke announced. Bertha trotted off toward Brooke’s completed team, looking relieved that she wasn’t picked last.

  “Oh, great. We’re stuck with the fatty!” Sara groaned.

  Cora wished she had a huge rock to crawl under.

  “Everyone will play,” announced Ms. Cross, motioning Cora toward Sandy’s team.

  The class continued on in the same way that the lineup had. If Sandy wasn’t egging on the other girls to tease and torment Cora, she was doing it herself. How could som
eone so beautiful and popular be so cruel? Cora wondered.

  The rest of the day crept by as each teacher droned on about what to expect this coming year. Cora was on the edge of her seat as she waited for the sixth-period bell to release her from her prison called middle school. Three… two… one…rrriinnggg! Kids were up and out of their seats before their teacher had even finished speaking.

  “Hey, you’ve not been released yet,” Mr. Corbin tried to shout as the students zoomed by him and out the door. He folded his arms over his chest with a sigh and shook his head. Cora waited until most of the class had filtered out before making her own way through the door.

  Finally outside, Cora took in a deep breath. The smell of fresh air was a welcome change from the dusty chalkboards and buzzing fluorescent lights. A smile spread over her face as she made her way toward the forest, and disappeared into the woods.

  Three: Journey to the Center of the Forest

  The cool forest canopy fell over Cora and she felt her anxiety dissolve for the first time that day. She didn’t want to be back in her too-clean, too-perfect house any more than she wanted to be back in one of the school’s stuffy classrooms.

  The woods suited Cora better.

  Instead of heading home, Cora settled down at the base of a great golden oak tree. It wasn’t long before she felt her eyelids droop and her head tilt back against the tree. It couldn’t hurt to rest just a little while, she thought.

  Not five minutes later Cora felt something poking her shoulder. Opening her eyes, she yelped in surprise, finding a short round-faced impish man standing at her side.

  “Goodness me, I thought you’d never wake up,” he chided with an odd curl to his words.