Baillee
Legacy Name: Baillee

It took me eighteen years to discover I was an alien.

gal•ax•y
noun /ˈgaləksē/ 
galaxies, plural
1. A system of millions or billions of stars, together with gas and dust, held together by gravitational attraction
2. The galaxy of which the solar system is a part; the Milky Way

Cold and wailing, an anonymous person handed me over to an old orphanage in the city. I spent only a year there. Apparently, my charm and boisterous baby behaviour won over my mother- she couldn’t resist.

Oddly enough, my first word was my own name, Baillee, despite how I pronounced it (Baywhee). My second however, was not mum, as you would expect, it was stars. I loved them- they fascinated me, and still do. Mother would often take me outside at night, sit me on her lap, and we would stargaze together. She loved them too- she was a young assistant professor at a university, and she taught astronomy.

It was the age of eight that I discovered self-doubt and shame.

Grade 3, start of the year. I resumed my normal school routine with more energy than usual- I ran into school, and bumped into my friends.

We sat together on the play swings, but there was a different atmosphere, something unusual in their attitude.

“Baillee, why do you have blue hair and yellow eyes?”

I was stunned, but answered “I don’t know. Mum says I was just born like this.”

One of my friends gave me a dirty look. “Well, my mum says your mummy must be mean to dye your hair and give you contacts so young.”

“But I don’t wear contacts. And my hair isn’t dyed.”

One of them crossed his arms. “You’re lying.”

My other friend did the same. “Yeah, and if you’re not, that’s weird.”

Their defensive poses made my heart sink. I wanted to disappear. They had never cared before about my abnormal hair and eye colour.

I chose not to sit with them anymore.

I started to pay more attention to this problem. Every time I caught a sly comment about it, I felt I would sink deeper into shame. Soon,

everyone was talking about it- but reminiscing now, I highly doubt it started then- I believe that’s when I began to notice it.

New teachers would stare at me curiously, strangers would cock their heads to one side, and other kids my age would ask if I was wearing a wig.

I withdrew myself. My beanie planted itself firmly upon my head, and remained there throughout my school years. I sat at the back of the class, and did my work quietly. I rarely participated in class discussions, although if a teacher asked for the answer, I would reply.

Books were my outlet. Just like the stars, they were magnificent. Any kind, any size, I would devour. Crime mysteries, picture books, romance stories, old fairytales, recipe books, instruction manuals, published academic reports (for mum kept a lot of these in the house), fantasy books and graphic novels. Almost anything I could get my hands on, I would read it. The written word captivated me- needless to say, I became a straight-A student.

High school came, and at first, I was excited. I was convinced I was going to become an adult.

My excitement was short-lived. My first year was torture.

At this new school they had banned beanies. I was forced to expose my odd-coloured hair, to my peers’ delight- they relished on a target to belittle. They called me many things- a “metro”, a “queer” and numerous other words not appropriate to mention. I decided it would be safer to disappear at break times, curling up at the back of the school library, head buried in a textbook, to save myself from hell.

My body was growing at an alarming rate- before the end of year seven, I stood at 5.8’, the tallest kid in my level. That alone should have helped my popularity status, but it wasn’t enough to make up for my nerdy behaviour and unique hair colour. I was clumsy- scrawny, but with baby cheekbones. I was a nerd..

Year nine, 5.9’, still growing. My baby fat was more or less gone. School was less painful- teachers adored me, and peers soon learnt that I was a valuable source for homework and study. The hateful comments stopped- at least, face to face. Somehow, I was convinced that behind my back, or on those social networks, they were forever gossiping. I despised them, but at the same time, worshipped them- I was envious of their carefree behaviour, not giving a cent to teachers, parents or school, and going out every night to have fun.

Year twelve, 6’, I had stopped growing. I was advancing in most of my science and literature subjects. Schoolwork took priority, but so did my social life. It was because nerdy and “hipster” came into style. Suddenly, it was cool to read books in antique libraries, go out for coffee, and hang out with know-it-alls. I went from being an easy target to a fashion accessory. Girls treated me with more courtesy, and guys were more respectful of my quiet, committed attitude.

-x-x-x-

I first saw her as she approached my table in Biology. I observed her seating, and when she became aware of this, she gave me a quick, humble smile. I didn’t know how to react, so I just nodded, and stared down at my textbook, wondering how much of a douche she thought I was. I immersed myself in my work again, but when she thought I wasn’t looking, I caught her glancing at me.

I listened to the roll properly in next class- she answered to Annabelle. What a pretty name, I thought, right before internally grimacing. She had peeked my interest, but I hated that. I was convinced that girls had it out for me, because I had never been interested in girls, and they had never been interested in me.

She had these long, curly waves of neither-brown, neither-orange hair. Her eyes were big and blue, and she had a little nose. Her mouth was thin but full, and a small amount of freckles dotted her cheeks.

She began to wave at me when I walked past her in the corridors- I waved back. Somehow, she had obtained my mobile number, and began to text me about small, semi-irrelevant matters- like, if I knew a good article reference for a subject in Bio, or the dates for a school function, but somehow, a text about what to bring for the Year 12 assembly turn into a hilarious discussion about the principal’s horrible taste in fashion. When I put my phone down for the night, I thought about this, and smiled. It was a bizarre conversation, but the first of many to come.

Our Bio teacher had proposed a weekly study session after school at the library, and normally, I wouldn’t need the extra help. But Annabelle invited me, pressing the importance of extra credit and how it could enlighten me in ways that I would never expect, so I couldn’t refuse.

Turns out she was partly wrong. Our teacher merely recapped the lesson, and I felt myself bored. I looked over at Annabelle, who showed the same level of interest. We turned to each other, and she rolled her eyes. A little smile escaped my lips. When the teacher was distracted by a fellow student, she said quietly, “I’m going to get some fresh air. Want to come?”

The words sent a chill down my spine. The thought of spending a few minutes outside, alone with a girl, scared the crap out of me. Yet, I couldn’t stand another second of being told the same thing over and over again. I swallowed down my fear, and said “yes”.

As soon as we were out of the doors, she sighed and laughed.

“Oh, thank goodness for that! I don’t know about you, but that was completely boring.”

I let out a little laugh. “Yeah, it was.”

“He pretty much repeated the lesson from today. Not much of a further study program, huh.”

I shook my head in agreement, not sure whether to look at her directly or to play it cool and stare at the ground. We began to walk.

“That’s not teaching, it’s repetition. I mean, repetition is fine when it’s done as revision later on, but constant repetition 24/7? No, thank you.”

She paused. “Routine in general drives me insane.” She looked up at me, her eyes full of thought. “I mean, how could someone stand to do the same thing over and over again? I need to mix things up, have it all fresh and exciting. That’s how I learn.”

I chewed carefully over my words before saying them. “Maybe routine is safe for some? I think those obsessive-compulsive people do it for reassurance and out of fear for not knowing, not planning. It must be a similar reason for those who stick to strict plans.”

She nodded. “You’re probably right. I just find it so… so strange.”

Strange. I normally loathed the word, but for some unbeknownst reason, it didn’t sound that bad when she spoke it.

“I guess it’s because I’m an artist,” she admitted. “Routine would practically kill my creativity.”

“Hold on…” I said, piecing two and two together. “So, that black folder sticking out of your bag over there,” I said, glancing over at the stack of schoolbags outside the library door, “that’s your art folder?”

She stared at me, eyes pleading. She knew exactly what I was thinking.

“No, you can’t. Don’t you dare.”

I knew that tone of words. It was familiar. Mum used it when she would just finish an academic report, and I would beg to read it. The protest she’d give would simply be a declaration of doubt in her ability, but at the same time, refusal to admit she wanted someone to look at it. So I knew it was safe to run straight towards the bag, her towing behind and laughing nervously.

I eased it out and sat down, making myself comfortable against the brick wall. By the time I had opened it, she had reached me, blushing. I was taken aback.

The style was anything to what I had expected. She drew figures, shapes, places and animals, but with an obscured style. Most figures has elongated limbs and dark shadowing, yet still looked remarkably like the subjects they were meant to be- almost like dark, realistic caricatures.

There were a few famous people that I recognised, but a lot I didn’t. What intrigued me most was a fined-lined, watercolour piece of the galaxy.

“Wow, this one in particular is beautiful.” I pointed to it, and she blushed.

“That’s my newest addition,” she explained. “The inspiration from that… wait, before I tell you, you have to promise not to laugh.”

“I promise,” I said seriously.

“Well, I remembered you saying to the teacher in class the other day that you really liked stars, so…” her voice drifted off. She giggled and huddled her arms together.

I smiled. “I love it. It’s really, really gorge- good. Really good.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I know so.”

I gazed back down at it.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve said this before,” she began, “but, I think you hair colour is pretty cool. Most people wouldn’t have the guts to go with a shade like that.”

I shrugged. “I guess I don’t know any different. I was born this way.”

“Really?”

“Really. At the least, I have baby photos to prove it.”

“Wow. That’s so…wow.” She had a sudden epiphany. “You know, you could have chimera genetics!”

She stared at me seriously, and then we both burst out laughing.

This... this felt so abnormal. I had never laughed like that before. It was full with honesty. And the feeling in my stomach- I felt anxious and enthusiastic all at once.

Once we had settled down, nervousness surfaced in her eyes. She took a deep breath.

“I was wondering…” she paused. “Sorry, I’ve never done this before. Um… well, you see, I don’t have a partner to the year 12 formal, and… if you’re not busy, or… would you like to accompany me?”

-x-x-x-

I couldn’t sleep, at first. The thoughts of the dance, and of Annabelle, and of how enormously nervous I was, swarmed my head. I think mum knew something was afoot the moment I walked in the door today. I gave it my best effort to evade the questions that could lead me to spill the secret- “How was your day, sweet?” was only answered with “good”, and “anything exciting happen?” was replied with a “nope”. She shot me this knowing smile all throughout the night, but my defences were high. It took a while to fall into my dreams.

There were stars everywhere. I was swarmed by space- I observed Earth below me as one vast sphere.

The environment changed.

Debris flew past me- I ducked. Cries, screams and gunshots blasted my ears. Stranded in a warzone, I ran, hunched, through the crowd of people, not glancing up. Nobody noticed.

I found a piece of crumbled brick, and scrambled behind it. I peeked over the top, terrified. My scream rang out, lost in the noise.I was not with people. I was with monsters.

Their sooted skin was encrusted with sharp-looking spikes, their mouths wide and cavernous. Eyes small and sunken, nose non-existent. Neck gilled, skeletal wings wrapped up and posed like swords upon their backs. Their hands and feet elongated, warped and pointed. And cradled in their hands- shiny spherical mini-earth globes.

I watched one throw it high in the air, and arch to the opposite side. It split open mid-way, and from it emitted a high-pitched squeal, followed by tiny wolf-like animals. As they flew, they seemed to rapidly grow. By the time their clawed paws hit ground, they were huge and teething, back tensed. They launched forward at the crowd, and roared.

The crowd were not people, either. They were bi-podal, but covered in dark fur. Taller than the skeletal creatures before me, but thinner. One of the wolves attacked a creature to the front of the crowd- its large teeth sank into the howling furry’s neck. Their knees gave way, blood pouring. The tiger retracted and leaped away, already locked onto its next target.

The wolf-man looked straight towards me. I gasped. His eyes were pure golden.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” I screamed, voice cracking under the pressure. The covers had flown off my bed, and I was drenched in sweat. There was the weird clench in my stomach that I had never felt before.

“Darling, I’m coming!” The door flew open and she rushed to my spangled side, patting my wet forehead and reassuring me with low hushes.

“Mum, they’re dying!”

“I know sweetie, shush, go back to sleep.”

My heart began to slow, and my breathing went back to normal. I stared up at her. Her face appeared calm, but there was a little crease of worry on her forehead. I wanted to pry, but as I was thinking this, my eyes began to droop.

“Shush now, everything’s ok.”

The covers floated over me after she hauled them in the air. She tucked them into position, and pulled the end over me. I curled underneath it and went straight back to sleep.

-x-x-x-

I woke up and groaned. I reeked of dry sweat- I smelled like I would smell horrible to someone else. After I stretched stiffly, I rose like a zombie and began my morning routine.

Mum greeted me in the kitchen. “Nice shower?”

“Yeah. It was nice.”

“You must be hungry, then,” she said, sliding an enormous bowl of rice bubbles my way. I devoured them, only just aware of how hungry I was. Milk slid down my chin- I grabbed the nearest tea towel and wiped it away, only to have the effort wasted a spoonful later.

“I want to know about this girl,” she said.The spoon in my hand clattered down to the bench, and in a hasty attempt to act casual I smoothly retrieved it.

“What girl?”

“Oh come on, Baillee. I’m not an idiot. You couldn’t keep that nervous grin off your face the whole of last night.”

“Mum, I’m not sure. She’s really sweet, but I think she’s just a friend.”

She gave me a mocking smile.

“Did she ask you out?”

“What?”

“I said, did she ask you out, or did you?”

“She asked me.”

“Then she likes you, knucklebrains!”

“Are you sure?”

She laughed. “Of course I am. Now finish your breakfast and put your bowl in the dishwasher.”

I paused. “Mum, do you know a good place to buy a last-minute suit?”

“…Why…”

“Well, the date’s kind of tonight, and, we’re going out-“

“NO!” Mum yelled, slamming a stray plastic cup on the island. “You are NOT going anywhere tonight.”

“What? Why not?!” I yelled back in shock.

“I have something extremely important planned!”

“Why didn't you tell me before!" I shouted, and added, "and what’s more important than a first date?”

“Something… something very important, and you cannot go!” she answered, flustered.

“That’s not an answer!”

“And you won’t be getting one! You just have to trust me, Baillee! You can’t go!”

I rose and left the room, fuming. I grabbed my schoolbag from my bedroom, completely forgetting about packing lunch, and rushed past her anxious face out the door.

-x-x-x-

I’ve never had to sneak out before, but my mother left me no choice.

I didn’t have a proper suit. I compromised on brown dress pants and a old dress jacket that were a little too short for my liking. I managed to hide it by cuffing the jacket with the brown shirt I was wearing underneath and pulling down the trousers as far as I felt comfortable with. Surprisingly, I still had a tie from a formal years back. Luckily, I kept the tying instructions.

As I placed my wallet in the jacket pocket and opened the window, a small tingle ran down my spine. It gave me an adrenaline rush to be doing something reckless- the feeling might have been spiked with the dreadful thoughts of being caught, but I wished for a good few hours- enough for a few dances. I didn’t know how long it would take mum to discover my absence, but I hope it wasn’t soon.

I didn’t have my license yet, so I walked. Ten minutes of subconsciously smoothing my hair, fixing my cuffs, rolling my tongue over my teeth to cheek for cleanliness. Ten minutes of thinking of her.

Arriving at the hall, I heard a car horn. I swivelled my head to find someone emerging out of a small red car. It was her.

My stomach purred. Clothed in a turquoise dress that flowed down to her knees, and her hair swept back, she stumbled towards me, trotting awkwardly in silver high heels. I grinned.

“Sorry,” she apologised, catching my glance at her footwear. “I don’t often wear heels.”

“That’s okay. You look beautiful.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

I was scared, but at the same time thrilled as I grabbed her hand. She seemed surprised at first, but then she beamed and grabbed it. Her small, soft hand fitted perfectly wrapped underneath mine.

We walked through the entrance together.

The party had already began- I suspected that, arriving a little late. The crowd was enormous- suited guys and glamoured up girls moshed collectively to a heavy base song I’d never heard. Some stranglers sat on the sidelines, a cup or phone in hand. One dark-haired girl looked towards the pair of us and goggled.

Annabelle leant in close. “Keep walking and don’t look at her,” she whispered furiously. I did as I was told.

“Oi, Annabelle, babe, get over here!”

Annabelle’s hand tensed in mine. “Coming, babe!” she whined in a fake, high voice, and whispering to me “stay here,” she trotted off clumsily. I couldn’t help but to turn around.

Her “friend” began a furious, lengthy speech. Some of the words I caught were “betrayed”, “why”, and “bitch”. After the last word, I felt I had to get over there.

“Everything ok here?” I asked as innocently as I could.

“Nobody asked you, nerd,” she said scathingly, not bothering to make eye contact.

“You leave him alone!” Annabelle raged.

“Why should I? I can’t believe you two are actually going out together. He’s so beneath you.”

“You know what, Annabelle? Screw you. I don’t care about social hierarchy and neither should you.”

Their yelling began to attracted onlookers.

“Whatever, Annie. Go be with your pathetic little loser and watch the world hate you. You’ve always been a loser, anyway.”

“I am not! Shut your mouth, Yvonne.”

I couldn’t be passive any longer.

“Yvonne, back away,” I warned, putting myself as a barrier between them. I instantly regretted it.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Baillee?”

A man the same height as me approached and stood by Yvonne’s side.

“Nick, your girlfriend’s abusing mine,” I said in a pitch that was a little too high for my liking.

“And why the fuck should I care? You stay the fuck away from my Yvonne.”

“It wasn’t like that,” I begun.

“Oh yeah, and what was it like? ‘Cause all I saw was you standing too close to Yvonne’s chest.”

“Please, Nick, calm down,” I said, eyes lowered. He didn’t give in.

“Why are you even here, Baillee?”

“Because I wanted to come,” I said, words suddenly full of malice. A fever grew in my chest, and I found myself unable to suppress it. “You got an issue with that?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Then get out of here!” I yelled, and shove him back. He stumbled into the wall. I couldn't believe where my sudden outburst had come from, but my mind was too occupied with rage.

“That’s it!” he bawled, fists tight. A fight was imminent.

“No! Stop!” Yvvone and Annabelle both cried, but Nick did not. He advanced towards me and swung a hand into the air.

Before he made contact, I shoved him back again, this time much, much harder. The fever now grew to a blazing fire in my stomach, and I could not suppress a warcry. Except when the sound left my throat, it came out as an actual roar.

“What the fuck?” Nick spat, half-delirious.

The fire moved from my stomach- I was in pain. The heat crawled across my skin- I yelped. Before I knew it, I bolted, leaving everyone behind me in my wake.

The dusk sky was cool, but it was a temporary relief. The vicious feeling had spread everywhere. For a split second, I felt like I was melting.

“Baillee! BAILLEE!” she screamed, her voice growing closer.

“Help me!” I screamed back as I dropped to my knees.

The squeal of tires sounded, and a car door swung open.

“Back away now, Miss.” It was my mother. “Back away now, Miss.” It was my mother. As I yelped, she grabbed me by the waist and hauled me to the car, where she pushed me with all of her strength across the back seat. With her pixish figure and my six-foot build, her effort was incredulous.

“He must get to the hospital, now. He will be fine.”

She slammed the door shut, and did the same for the front one after she had slipped into her seat. Without a moment’s delay, she revved off, leaving my unsettled tearful girlfriend in her wake.

Meanwhile, my vision blurred with the colour red. The sounds of the engine faded as my own pain thumped in my ears, with the fast rhythm of my pounding heart. My voice cracked under the pressure of my screams- horrible convulsions shook my body over. Joints snapped, skin bubbled and my body stretched. And whilst this completely gruesome and absolutely terrifying agony beat me senseless, claustrophobia begun to sink in. I was running out of room- I suddenly found the car too small to hold me even in the fetal position.

I barely heard mum yell “We’re almost there,” as the car’s tyres squealed around a bend. I wasn’t even sure how fast she was driving but I was sure the speed was illegal.

Before I could scream again, mum had ripped open the door and dragged me out. I couldn’t see anything but red still, and panic settled in amongst the pain. My startled cries were hushed by her soothing voice.

I knew she had hauled me inside our house because I could just hear the rattling vents in the roofs. We planned to have that fix a month ago, but we never did.

She let go of my limbs. I felt carpet under my hands, and my feet, which had tore apart the shoes I had been wearing.

Her hands caressed my face and she begun cooing, just like the other night when she had hushed me to sleep.

My breathing settled and I stopped screaming. My ferocious heart slowed down to a regular beat, and I felt my muscles relaxing.

“That’s it, baby. Everything’s ok. You’re alright.”

The red wash cleared. I saw her wet face smiling through tears.

“Mum, why are you crying?” I croaked, voice heavy, thick, and unfamiliar.

“I don’t know, Baillee. I don’t know.”

She sat me up against her chest and cradled me there. I stared up at her, biting my lip through watery eyes.

“Now Baillee, whatever you do, don't look down. Keep looking at me. I will... I will explain, ok?

.

Image courtesy of Obluda.
Story/coding by me.