Melisa Miller, Week Seven, Story 10

Inside the Box; changed version

Wanda slammed the front door with such vigor her whole family tree rattled on the living room wall. All her cousin’s faces shook like they were reenacting the last family reunion. She threw her backpack down on top of the shoes she flung off her feet and ran upstairs skipping every other step and into her room. With another slam of her bedroom door, she dove under her bed off the diving board in her head and pulled out a small black metal box. The box was rusting around the edges and had scribbled writing circling the sides; writing resembling cursive that if you stared at long enough, was obviously in a different language. Just as Wanda started opening the lid a knocking came at her door and she slid the box under her bed again. Her mother opened the door with Wanda’s baby brother Joshua bouncing in her arms.
“Well hello to you too, sweetie. What’s got you all in a flurry?” Thankfully, before Wanda could answer, her mother noticed a ketchup stain on Wanda’s shirt. “Oh Wanda, every day.” With a frustrated sigh, she let out her troubles, kissed Wanda on the forehead and bounced Joshua out of the room. “I’m going to need that shirt” her voice faded as she closed the door behind herself.
Wanda shifted gears so quickly all she needed was a NASCAR jacket. Reaching back under the bed and pulling out the box, she opened the lid and pulled out a sloppily folded little piece of notebook paper. She carefully unfolded the paper and read a message scribbled in pencil. The note read; This is not true. I am but a box, a box with no virtue.
Wanda sat for a minute and stared at the writing, intent the words would suddenly change or jump off the page and run away. Such an event could not be missed. But after a good minute she threw down the paper like she’d never touched it at all, leapt off the floor like a world class gymnast and went to her desk, where she yanked out a piece of paper from a little pink notebook that said My Little Pony with little purple and blue ponies frolicking across the cover. After giving the matter some good thought, Wanda wrote on the paper; Do you have secret compartments where little tiny people live? After folding the paper up and setting it delicately into the bottom of the box, Wanda closed it, shoved it back under her bed and galloped downstairs to watch the afternoon cartoons.
The next day at school Wanda spent half of the math lesson daydreaming about her magic box filled with little dinosaurs or maybe ancient jewels that once belonged to Cleopatra. Her eyes would drag to a close and her head would drag to a tilt until she’d jolt herself up, electrocuted by consciousness every other minute. In fact, ever since Wanda had found the box in her attic she’d been having these magnificent day dreams. Only at school of course, daydreams know when they’re needed.

About five days ago, give or take a few, Wanda’s lifelong desire to explore the great unknown led her up to the dusty attack where she crawled around the creaky wooden floor boards and sneezed on all the cobwebs. After digging through mountains of ugly lamps, funny looking purple dress coats with matching bell bottom pants, three blenders, four toasters and several varieties of dipping platters, Wanda discovered a large wooden chest with a key still in the lock. After unlocking the chest and creaking it open with all the strength she had in her little monkey bar-toned arms, Wanda peeked inside. To her astonishment the box was filled with fine linens that looked like they could have been a hundred years old. These pieces of cloth were finely beaded with rich aquas and deep purples. Wanda gently pulled the pieces of cloth out of the box and laid them on the floor like she was cradling a newborn. She picked up a cloth and wrapped it around her shoulders.
After serving at least twenty minutes as the princess of Arabia she bumped into a heavy stack of paper that scattered every which way as she sprawled out to reverse her mishap. In attempts to replace everything as she’d found it Wanda found herself in a dark angled corner of the attic, crawling on all fours smothered in cobwebs. Underneath a piece of paper was a small black mysterious looking box. Something drew Wanda to this box. She wasn’t even sure what yet, but somehow she felt akin with it, small and simple, a little worn, but peculiar none-the-less. Wanda caressed her fingers along the scrawl wrapping the box and held it tight in her fingers.
It wasn’t until she decided to keep her rock collection in the box that she realized its true magic. A day after she put the rocks in the box Wanda opened it only to find the rocks replaced by a small piece of folded notebook paper that read; Is this some kind of joke? I don’t fill you with rocks. Please have a little courtesy next time.

When Wanda’s teacher yelled her name for not giving the answer to four times seven, she jerked out of her trance and her cheeks went pink. The laughter from her classmates haunted her all the way home on the school bus. Her only distraction was the anticipation for today’s discovery from the mysterious black box. This time her hands shook as she opened it. Half expecting to see little tiny people smiling and waving up at her, her heart sank when all she saw was another small piece of paper, sloppily folded in the bottom of the box. What do you take me for? I am but a box, just like any other. Wanda decided to wait until the evening to respond this time. She needed time to think.
Wanda moped down to dinner where she found Joshua in his high chair making funny squeaking noises and slapping his mashed potatoes with a spoon. Wanda went into the powder room and washed her hands. When she came back Wanda’s mother was in the dining room, looking a little flushed. After wiping Joshua’s face, she asked Wanda how her day at school was.
“Fine.”
“You don’t sound fine. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing… Mom, what makes someone special?” Wanda’s mother put her fork down and gave Wanda a perplexed look. Wanda knew her mother would probably attempt to give her some overanalyzed answer designed just to make her feel good, but she couldn’t keep all these thoughts inside any longer. It took Wanda’s mother a minute to respond. Before she could answer however, Joshua threw his spoon at the table and it landed in the bowl of peas sitting on the table right between Wanda and her mother. Peas exploded out of the bowl in every direction. There were peas in Wanda’s mashed potatoes and in her iced tea. There was even a pea in her hair. Joshua started screaming and Wanda’s mother spent the next five minutes attempting to calm him down and clean up the peas at the same time.
“Everyone is special in their own way.” Wanda’s mother finally let out, half in a sigh. “Did someone say you weren’t special? Because-”
“-No,” Wanda cut in, and before her mother could fathom any kind of response Wanda leapt off her chair and dashed upstairs to her room. She tore a piece of paper out of her notebook and wrote- But you must be special. My mom calls my brother special all the time and he can’t even talk.
Wanda spent the entire next day in a state of perpetual peace. She didn’t fill her head with any silly ideas about boxes full of ice cream or limitless cotton candy. She greeted all her classmates with a pleasant dignity and sat in her desk with her back straight and her hands crossed. Wanda answered three multiplication problems by choice and didn’t get a single wrong. As she rode the bus home she thought about how much she appreciated the box regardless of its abilities. And when it came time to do her usual explosion into the house, she merely turned the knob gently and closed the door with a quiet “click” behind her. She set her shoes down neatly next to her backpack on the foyer rug. Wanda walked upstairs without skipping a single step. When it came time to open up the box and behold what message was in store for the day, she took a deep satisfied breath and read- What’s wrong with your brother? Any old bloke can talk. Sounds to me like you come from a family of cretins. Wanda’s content expression slipped right down her face like a mud slide. And with that she threw the box into the river behind her house and watched it float away into the sunset. Sadly, Wanda was wrong. Some boxes are just mean.