Untitled Fiction - The Protest Part III

As Ayla and Ezekial made their way towards the Washington Monument, the sidewalk became more dense with people. They were surrounded by all kinds of people. Some were teenagers like themselves, but others was older dressed like their parents. Ezekial even thought he saw the mother of one of his classmates from school across the parkway. He carefully steered Ayla in the opposite direction. There was no way he wanted this to get back to his parents.

Walking on, Ezekial began to see the immensity of this protest. People talked among themselves as they crowded together along sidewalks and park benches. Some held signs high over their heads. The smell of pot wafted through the air and Ezekial had to be careful not to bump into people who floated by as in a daze. This was nothing like what Ezekial thought the protest would be like. For a moment, Ezekial felt a tightness across his chest and noticed that steadying his breathing took a deliberate effort. Unconsciously, he grabbed Ayla's hand and tried to walk faster to an area of grass that was still surprisingly open. Ayla didn't seem to mind holding hands and Ezekia found that reassuring. Suddenly, Ayla dropped Ezekial's hand and started waving. "There's my friends," said Ayla. Ayla grabbed Ezekial's arm and pulled him towards a group of teens holding signs.

"Get out now!" yelled one of the girls. She looked a bit like Ayla but the rage in her voice could be seen in the wrenching expression across her face. For moment Ezekial thought she was talking to him. Then he realized that she was shouting as part of the protest. He hadn't thought to bring any signs. She seemed to be really into the protest. Then just as quickly, her face relaxed. "You have to yell once in a while. Otherwise, people don't think you are serious about demo-ing." The rest of the group didn't seem that concerned about demonstrating though. Three others sat under a tree and a fourth person lay flat on his back completely focused on smoking. One of the people sitting strummed a guitar but Ezekial didn't recognize what he was playing.

Untitle Fiction - The protest Part II

The pretty girl laughed. Ezekial was fascinated by the way the light sparkled beneath her long lashes.
"Hmmm. . . since you are Z, I'll be something at the beginning of the alphabet. Let me think . . . A my name is Alice. No that is too ordinary."
"You could just go by A or, what no, how about Ayla? It almost sounds like "I lie." You know since that isn't your real name."
"Ayla? I think I like it."
"okay, then Ayla, what's a nice girl like you doing at a protest like this?" Ezekial winced at how corny that line must have sounded. "She probably thinks I am a real dork," he thought to himself.
Ayla giggled, "That's not a very original line."
"I know," Ezekial replied. It's just . . . you take my breath away and I feel a bit muddled inside."
"I do that to you? No one has ever told me anything like that before." Ayla blushed and glanced down at her feet then started to walk down the sidewalk.
Ezekial kept pace.
"You know, I am here to protest the war. I should get going," Ayla whispered.
"But that's where I am going, too. Let's walk together."
"Okay, but no personal questions. Let's keep the mysterious aura going. I kinda of like pretending to be someone I'm not. It makes being away from home a little easier."
"Is home far away? Oops! I didn't mean to pry. Where would Ayla be from if she was a real person?" Ezekial liked this. He wouldn't have to reveal his age or that he was still in school under his parents' thumb.
Ayla thought for a moment. "Berkley. Ayla is a student there and hitch hiked all the way here to you."
Ezekial blushed again. He was entranced and ready to follow Ayla anywhere.
"

Untitled Fiction - The protest

"Hey, you're cute! What's your name?" Ezekial looked over at the girl standing next to him. A flush came over him and he stuttered a reply. "My family calls me Zee. It stands for . . ."

"Wait, don't tell me. Zee is so cute and if we are arrested we won't give our real names anyway."

Ezekial pulled himself together. He couldn't believe this pretty girl was flirting with him. "Well, what name are you going by for today?"

Untitled Fiction - Zee's story

"Zee, come down here right now!" Ezekial ignored his mother's call.

"Ezekial Joshua Stein, move it, now! Don't make me come up to get you!"

"Man, Zee, you are in so much trouble! Mom knows all about you skipping school and that bogus cover-up about staying over at Ralph's house. She called there this morning to piok you up for your dental appointment."

Ezekial sat up slowly on his bed. His parents didn't understand him. The war was wrong! Why didn't they see that someone had to protest it. Someone had to let the politicians know the public wouldn't stay for it any longer. And even though he was only 14, he looked older than his age. No one at the protest thought he was a kid. They just accepted that he was one of the them. In a way, he understood that his parents had a right to be upset. He had lied to them, but they weren't going to let him join the protest. He really meant to be back last night. He was going to stay at Ralph's. It's just . . . well . . . Ezekial didn't remember everything about the night before. He had gotten caught up in moment. But one thing he did remember was the girl he met. Long brown hair, green eyes, tanned skin. She seemed so fragile. She needed protection. That's why he had gone back to the campsite with her. He'd shared his granola bars with her but that wasn't much. They were both pretty hungry still. He didn't know what to do when someone passed the joint to him. He didn't want her to think he was lame and so he puffed. It was just like a cigarette. He didn't understand why anyone thought grass was so cool. It didn't make him feel any different. He had felt so relaxed with the girl.

Untitled Fiction - Abby's story

I asked my mother again when I was 13.
“Why do you keep asking me this? It was the 60’s. Everyone did weird stuff in the 60’s. I wasn’t a slut. I ran away from home to protest the war. I came back.”
“But you have to remember something more specific about what happened.”
“Listen, Sweetie, Zach, we were camping in the Rockville Creek Park. We had marched through Washington D.C. outside the White House. We didn’t have any money and we didn’t have much food, but someone had a little pot. There were a lot of people. I didn’t know about getting high. I was feeling lonely and hungry.”
“Was that the night it happened?”
“Why do you persecute me this way? Do you know how it makes me feel that I conceived you and I can’t tell you the facts? I don’t know the facts. I love you. I came home and I had you and I love you and I have stayed here to take care of you and did I tell you I love you?”