Chapter One
A blood-red Mercedes
driven by none other than Mercedes headed right towards me. My life didn’t
flash before my eyes; rather my bloody limbs and guts landed on the cold, hard
concrete.
Oh wait, was that my imagination
“Stay off the sidewalk, bitch. Just because you’re named after one
doesn’t mean you can drive one?” Cherry yelled as she pushed me out of the way
and into the bushes, risking her own life in the process.
I wish her yelling was also part of my imagination. Mercedes was the
second most popular girl in school and I did not want her hating us anymore
than she already did.
Trying to run us over did show some pure hate though.
Realizing I was safe, just covered in
sticky painful bushes. I said, “Shhh, she’s going to hear you.”
“Yeah, that’s kind of the point,”
Cherry flipped off the back of the fast-moving vehicle.
“She’s going to take it out on me,” I
said, knowing Mercedes that was exactly what was going to happen because Cherry
talks back to her.
“And I’m all right by the way.”
Cherry pulled me out of the bushes and back on the sidewalk, making it so she was
the one closest to the road. “That girl really needs not to drive for the sake
of life forms everywhere.”
“Are you ok?” I asked, with real
concern. She saved my life. Never had a friend like that before?
“Yes, if that girl stays away from
the road.” Cherry blew her strawberry bangs out of her face and kept one eye on
the road at all times. She smelled like bubble gum from all the Blow Pop she
digested. Unlike Mercedes, her name was
a nickname. But she had yet to tell me her real name.
I wanted to be the one to say something
to Mercedes. But I couldn’t. Cursed with the ill fated toxic disease referred
to as social ineptitude, I was hopeless. Okay, maybe I made the name up, but it
was completely real. It trapped me into the prison of my mind, forced silent by
my inability to socialize.
Except with Cherry Madison, every
moment with her was a natural high, but most of all it was real, without the
nervousness or the anxiety that surrounds me with everyone else my age.
Radiance cascaded down from her freckled nose to her emerald Boots. She picked up a white and lavender Columbine
flower and placed it between her strawberry blonde hair and left ear. Turning
to me, she asked, “Does this work for me?”
I nodded. Oh, it worked for her, like
everything else worked for her. Soft, adorable and funny, I couldn’t ask for a
better friend. She was so worth the wait. For the first time in my life, my
best friend was not made out of fur or fangs and never chewed on my Carrie
Underwood slippers. I hated rescuing my slippers from the family dog, Willow.
The closer we got to school, the more
I slowed down. The monotony of the school year had started to bore the hell out
of me. Sure, it was fantastic for the first month. Last year at my old school,
I threw away my brown paper sack uneaten in the restroom trash where I had spent
my entire lunch hour.
At Aspen Heights, I sat with Cherry,
where we usually sneaked off campus to go to the subway behind the school’s
cafeteria. It was super convenient for those who hate mushy food, like me, but
that and getting to sit next to her in some of my classes was the best part of
my day. I was a sophomore and she was a junior, but that didn’t matter that
much because I was in the accelerated plus program, meaning they wanted to skip
me a grade but my mom wouldn’t let them, even when I transferred schools. She
didn’t want me missing a valuable year of high school. She thinks they’re the
best years of a person’s life. She
doesn’t know me very well. That’s just it. I was the reason we moved from Utah
to Colorado in the first place.
I was sick of school. I wanted summer
back. For now, after school was way better because nobody told us to keep our
volume down or made us sit in detention in the rare times they caught us off
campus for lunch, something only seniors could do. Most the time we got away
with it. We were good spies.
A honk brought me back to the
present. I looked over to see a car full of boys, startling me to jump about a
foot. I watched as Cherry waved, while walking backwards with the Blow Pop in
her mouth, where it often rested. Her tongue in a constant state of
discoloration, hence, how she got her nickname, Cherry, being her favorite
flavor. I still haven’t managed to figure out her real name. I even tried
tickling; even as she lost oxygen slowly she still never budged.
My face started to rise in
temperature as I bowed my head. But Cherry didn’t mind. Attention attached to
Cherry like dog hair to black pants. It seemed to fit her comfortably, so
unafraid and free.
Maybe the ease with the public had
something to do with Cherry being from one of the wealthiest families in Aspen
Heights, the only gated community. Rumor had it she used to be one of the most
popular and rich ones, but she got sick of it or something and chose to be wellknown
on her own terms. For some reason, popularity seemed to come with a mandate
that one always had to be the offspring of parents with seven figure incomes.
Most of them had chosen not to go to private school, and instead spent their
money on the mile-away public school, where they tended to get special
privileges because of it. The high school and the gated community were by no
chance both called Aspen Shadows. Or so Cherry had passed all this information
onto me during the summer.
We had become friends since I moved
here at the beginning of the summer; she actually hit me with her car when I
was on my bike. Not as funny as it sounds, she had broken my ankle. Since then
I figured it was a lot safer for me to be in her car rather than under it.
Apparently nobody around here drove very well and I fit in that way. My
driver’s education teacher wanted me to never drive again under his care. I’d
be perfectly sane with that idea but it was a requirement to graduate.
“Life’s good.” Cherry brought a leaf
to her nose from off a nearby blood-colored maple tree, released it into the
air, and then breathed out noisily.
The air was thinner here, but I
breathed easier here than my past home, a place that had never seemed home like.
“Are you going to burst out in song?”
Cherry brought her eyebrows together
and crinkled her nose, giving me that shut-up look.
“Sorry,” I said, without a whole lot
of meaning. Cherry pushed down my hat so it covered my eyes. I had recently
bought the tarnish newsboy cap from Aspen Shadows Mall, by the gated community.
Everywhere worth going was by that neighborhood. I guess it was in case their
Porsches were in the shop or their limo drivers were ill, their shoppers could
easily walk to the mall for them.
Cherry’s car wasn’t a Porsche, but
she did drive a dusty blue Malibu. It currently sat in the shop and my bicycle
wanted to stay in the garage for some much needed down time. The left tire was
low and the seat was worn down to nothing.
As we approached the newly decorated
vintage style school, I barely noticed the feel of my lungs squeezing inside
me. My hands used to shake, my heart shivered and my legs trembled anytime I
approached the school doors back home in Salt Lake City.
It was possible I had just imagined
my name whispered through the crowd everywhere I turned, living in a constant
nightmare. But I hadn’t imagined the shoves from girls in the hallways, voices
telling me the seat next to them was taken or the boys spitting on my lunch in
the cafeteria.
An area code or two away, in the
mile-high city, my life was completely different. My former nickname from the
Satan girls, a group of five neighborhood girls who made my life a living hell,
was Mousier and I hated it. Hey, no one had ever said bullies were creative. My
brother had promised to keep my nickname a total secret. My old nickname could not be reincarnated
into my new life. This secret had to stay in the past, where it belonged. Dead
and buried.
There was another secret that got out
the first week I moved to the outskirts of Denver. Cherry discovered it way too
easy. Said it was obvious the first time she went out in public with me;
excused me of spending too much time watching the sunbathers out on Shadow Lake
and not the ones outside our gender. As much as I denied it, she refused to
believe it, only said I was lying to myself. But whenever I asked her about her
own sexuality, she always said she got burned in the past and was now asexual,
whatever that meant.
Cherry had never told me who the guy
was. I had assumed it was a guy. She had many boy vampire posters on her wall
and not so many girl ones. I could never tell which sunbathers she focused on
as she always seemed cautious not to stare, something I completely sucked at.
Just as Cherry and I sat in my usual
seat in French class, Mercedes in a gold and green uniform, flipped around in
her seat, keeping her focus on drying her freshly painted nails. “Cherry, can
you please tell the new girl to stop staring. I know I’m beautiful but nobody
wants a personal stalker” Mercedes pointed her middle finger right at me.
Chapter Two
I slid down in my chair, wishing I could evaporate.
Cherry sat up in her chair, placing
her knuckles under her chin. “She’s just trying to figure out where that
wretched smell is coming from. God, close your legs woman.” She said it loud
enough, a few boys cracked up nearby.
I smiled apologetically at Mercedes,
who grunted before turning back to her nails. I loved having Cherry watch my
back and stand up for me. I only wished one of these days I could learn how to
stand up for myself and use my own words to defend myself, less harsh words.
But Cherry never cared what the cool cliché thought of her. She did her own
thing.
I wanted the whole teenage
experience, and this year I was a lot closer to being comfortable in my own
skin and to having my first real romantic relationship. I was tired of just
making it through the day hiding in Cherry’s’ shadow. I wanted. No, I needed to
be able to branch out.
Maybe even become popular and a
cheerleader, something I’ve dreamed about since my Mom started training me in
gymnastics and dance on her down time, when she wasn’t teaching other kids.
Today I planned to not just make it
through the school day without drawing negative attention, but to talk to
someone different, to make school more interesting. Summer break was sure
interesting. Cherry and I both shared a love of swimming. We both swam like
fishes and spent almost every waking hour over at Shadow Lake. The water wasn’t
warm, I mean it was Colorado, not California, but it was tolerable and fun. We
did other things there too like reading each other’s fortunes, playing UNO and
eating. We both loved eating, although Cherry was a vegetarian.
How could I go about meeting new
people? I had wanted to try for cheerleading or dance, but last year as a
freshman my choices were limited and the mean girls pretty much made my life a
living hell, including during tryouts. At my new school, I missed tryouts because
they were last spring. I wasn’t as well known as my brother, Paul, for
baseball.
Having a brain never served me well
socially and people seemed to resent me for it, but in this case, it served me.
I could be with Cherry.
I covered my nose; the smell of my
French teacher always did a number on me. Mr. Versace’s nickname so fit him,
smelling like the cedar and lemon Versace cologne. Something I only recognized
because he always had a bottle of it on his desk.
Quieting the last chatters of the
classroom, Mr. Versace opened French class with his fluent first tongue. I only
understood half of it, something about how he spent his summers studying art
with his wealthy uncle and visiting the Louvre museum and then about some
pyramid. I was lost, but apparently the rest of the classroom was even more
clueless than me, with their puzzled expression, frantic searching for their
books and scratching their heads. Some weren’t even bothering to pay attention,
hiding their technical devices under their desks.
That changed dramatically as cell
phones dropped, heads flipped to the right and the teacher stopped his
long-winded monologue. Had to be something major going on, like a fire, but all
I could see was a semi-petite girl in a cheerleading uniform standing in the
doorway.
As she stepped into the classroom to
hand the teacher a note of some kind, the smell of fresh apples reached out to
me, calling my name. She turned to face the classroom, showing a seductive
smile while seeming to hide secrets behind her blood-colored lips.
The French language fell out of the
black-haired beauty like it belonged to her, the language of romance. Glued to
her, I heard almost every word she said. She talked about how she enjoyed
spending the last four months in Paris and all the exciting things she
experienced and saw. She expressed her words harmoniously and fluently, as if
she was a native.
I envied the creature in front of the
class, seeming more ethereal than human. I longed more than anything to be able
to talk with such ease in front of an audience. When she switched to ordinary
old English, she didn’t miss a beat and even in a language I could follow, she
still spoke words with such romance and beauty. Sure she wasn’t the prettiest
girl in the world. She probably couldn’t hack it as a supermodel, as she wasn’t
tall enough. But she made it impossible
not to want her.
Hazel careened through the desks with
the ease of a movie star, not floundered by the eagerness of her classmates as
they acted thirsty for her attention. A few boys stood up, saying she could
have their seats. But she only smiled and thanked them politely, except a boy
in the second row, whom she let give her a peck on the lips. He was an
attractive boy with a Colorado Rockies baseball cap. He seemed familiar. I
think he was on the High School Cougar’s baseball team with my older brother,
even though my brother wasn’t around for tryouts, they had allowed him on the
team. His record back home had reached the mile-high state.
I wondered if he was her boyfriend.
If he was, I so wanted to be him. If just for a day, anything to be close to
her!
“That’s the next-door neighborhood,”
Cherry said, even though I wasn’t looking at her, I knew who she was referring
too.
My mouth gaped open. That…was Hazel.
“The one and only,” Cherry scowled
and then started to remove the wrapper off of a Gum Sucker with more aggression
than needed for those kind of situations. She seemed anything but pleased at
the new company.
I knew better than to ask her.
Turning back to Hazel, I watched as
she sat down next to the boy on one side and Mercedes on the other, who
actually looked up from her nails as Hazel kissed her lightly on the mouth.
Some of the boys cheered. Now I wanted
to be Mercedes, only less mean.
Now I really wished that Cherry
hadn’t chewed out Mercedes. I clearly needed to be on Hazel’s good side to make
new friends around here. Cherry might not care about Mercedes or what the other
GC (gated community) teens think for some reason. But they obviously had a lot
of power and if I wanted to make new friends I needed them on my side.
I especially needed them on my side
if I ever wanted to be close to Hazel. Just the thought of being close to her
sent waves of excitement through me.
The teacher went back to his personal
monologue on his summer art experiences. Wasn’t sure how these boring old
stories were going to help anybody understand French better. A scan through the
classroom only proved they were falling on death ears.
All I could think about was Hazel. I
strained my mind to remember comments Cherry had made over the summer about
her. I remembered her saying Hazel went both ways. The straight side was
obvious as she leaned into the baseball boy and allowed her left hand to caress
his thigh.
No surprise Cherry had spent a
significant amount of time talking about Hazel. Who wouldn’t? Hazel was more than just pretty; she was
captivating to watch and charismatic to be around. The whole class eyed Hazel
and her grasp of the French language. Not sure Advanced French was the right
place for her. France may be the right place for Hazel, especially with her
beautiful gothic black hair, shaped in a pixie cut. She had these intense brown
eyes with a sliver of hazel; it was like she could see into your soul. Her
thick eyebrows and eyelashes made her eyes seem even bigger. She had pouty lips and a slightly off-center
nose. Her face was completely ivory clear.
Hazel let out a high-pitched laugh
that was sure to get the teacher’s scorning. But shockingly no, the teacher
paused briefly before going back to his personal monologue.
The only other comments I remembered
coming from Cherry was that Hazel was used to getting what she wanted and she
alone decided the status quo. That thought chilled me. I bet Mercedes was going
to tell her all about the freak who never stopped staring. I’d be an outcast in
under five minutes after this class got over.
I tried to focus on my French book, attempting to study the new
vocabulary for the chapter we start this week, if the teacher ever bothered to
get around to it. Before I could learn all the words, the class bell rang. I
watched as Hazel got out of her seat, being careful not to be obvious while
staring at her.
“You coming back to this dimension any time soon?” Cherry’s words
vibrated in my ear, but it took a few seconds to register.
“Present” I said, sounding more like a response to a roll call. My
thoughts whirled all over the place. I decided to focus my attention on Cherry.
She pulled a Blow Pop out of her mouth, almost snagging it on one of her
newly formed pigtails. Cherry changed her hair more than most people changed
their mind. “Don’t sound like it much.”
“Well much.” I was too out of it to come up with a more witty rhetoric. Getting
out of my seat, I followed Cherry out of the classroom and we walked side-by-side
to Psychology, another class we also had together. I secretly wished Hazel
would be in the class. If so, I needed to desperately brush my hair in the
girl’s bathroom before class.
I excused myself to the bathroom to
brush my hair and put some lip gloss on.
I had a dancer’s figure, tall and skinny. I wish my hair was better
styled, it was stringy and long without any volume. I was awkward, still not quite sure how to
handle my height. Luckily, I didn’t have a pimple in sight because my skin was
dry. It made me look older than fifteen, which made it easier to fit in in my
classes. Not having to use the restroom, I left out the door.
Waiting for me in the classroom, sat
Cherry in the back row. Trying not to be too obvious to Cherry or anyone else,
I watched for glimpses of the new girl, as I sat in the back row. No such luck. Disappointed I watched my
favorite class filling up without Hazel. As a few cheerleaders took the last
desks remaining, there was still no sign of Hazel.
And for the rest of the morning, I
didn’t see her, much to my disappointment. I was so eager for lunch period that
I almost jumped out of psychology class and fell on my ass.
Cherry placed her hands up in
confusion as I turned into the cafeteria, instead of going straight out the door
for an Italian Sub sandwich and a small fruit punch. Cherry always ordered
veggie delight and hated the cafeteria. “Need something different,” I explained
lamely.
We walked together to the lunch line.
Cherry said, “I love your eyes by the way.”
“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that before.”
“God, there just amazing.”
“There just blue,” I said, but my
mind was elsewhere.
Cherry sighed, picking up a tray,
scowling at the water remaining on the tray as she turned it around and let it
drip to the floor. “Hey,” Mercedes yelped from behind us.
Sure that was deliberate. I was just
relieved Hazel wasn’t with her.
We finished going through the food
line and found our table, the one we always chose, surprisingly unoccupied, as
if it waits for us when we were gone. Cherry brushed the crumbs off it, “Not
sure if you forgot your sanity pills today, but this sucks. A vegetarian
delight with extra provolone sounded heavenly right now. But, no we’re stuck in
cafeteria hell.”
“Sorry,” I muttered, unable to stop staring at
Hazel, trying not to be a certifiable eye-stalker, but failing miserably. She
sat with the other GC’s, Mercedes and the boy from French class. A blonde girl
with a cheer uniform, playing with her curls, approached their table and gave a
squeal when she saw Hazel. She hugged a sitting down Hazel, almost tipping her
chair back.
The blonde finally released her and
looked my way; I immediately flipped downward to my messy hamburger, at least
it was better than the green patty excuse for meat Cherry had on her plate.
I played with my food with my fork,
tossing it back and forth. Finally getting the courage to place it up to my
mouth, it only made it as far as my chin, the food dripping down my shirt.
Damn, I had the worst aim, especially when it came to food. Also the worst
timing!
I looked up to see Hazel approaching
our table. I grabbed a napkin and started wiping, but the damage was already
done. Her tan nose scrunched up at the food remaining on my shirt.
“Hey Blow Pop, who’s the new girl?”
she asked, flipping one of Cherry’s pony-tails. Something Cherry hates with a
passion.
I opened my mouth to answer
Hazel’s question, but nothing came out. Luckily, Cherry responded while
swatting the air back and forth. “Kenzie meet Queen Hazel, Queen Hazel meet
Kenzie. And it’s just Cherry.”
Hazel mouthed “whatever.” Neither
of them bothered to hide their mutual distaste for one another.
“And Queen Hazel works just fine
for me,” she smiled, as she reached in and gave me her well-manicured hand. I
shook her hand, the touch electrifying me. I couldn’t believe this was
happening. She was touching me. This had to be a dream.
It took me a few seconds to
figure out Hazel had taken away her hand, but was still gawking at me, waiting
for me to say something. Anything! My heart raced, all I could do was panic.
I thought about how Cherry always says people
worry more about their own appearance than about the way I sound or if I make a
mistake. I opened my mouth to say
something, but only dead air came out.
“Can she talk?” Hazel asked, but
the words barely left her mouth before Mercedes tapped her from behind and they
scooted off together, laughing and giggling.
Did that really just happen? I made the biggest fool of myself in front of
the coolest girl I had ever seen in my life. The world needed to open up and
swallow me down like quicksand, anything to not have to face the rest of the
school day or the rest of the school year. Please say my life can go back to
being boring and monotone.
Cherry inched close to me,
reaching her left hand behind my back and patting me like a dog, always aware
when I was troubled. We knew each other well.
“That was horrible,” I whispered,
not wanting anyone else to hear.
“Don’t worry about it. Hazel has
so many social contacts every day, she’ll forget about it by tomorrow.”
I highly doubted she would
forget. First impressions were important, some say they’re everything. And that
first impression sucked. Royally sucked! I got up from my seat and tossed my excuse
for food into the trash, where it fully belonged.
Tossing her empty plate in the
trash can from her seat before bothering to get up, Cherry said, “Come on, if
we’re late, you might lose your place as the teacher’s favorite.” She smiled,
removing her hand from my back and using it to hold mine. Something Cherry
usually did to keep track of me in heavy crowds. I welcomed the comfort of her
touch. It made me feel safe.
Chapter Three
The next morning, I growled when I woke up and realized my
dream last night wasn’t real. I wasn’t
cheering for my brother’s baseball game, performing flawless back flips and
screaming the chants right next to Hazel.
Back in reality, my ribs tightened
and my stomach bubbled over. A few licks
from Willow told me she’d chosen to not only wake me up but to forgo her
previous suite in my Mom’s bedroom. My dad and she had separate beds because he
refused to sleep with the hot doggy. I could refuse but one search around the
rest of my room said Mom came in sometime this morning to do some cleaning.
Guess she couldn’t wait in case something else living decided to show up.
A glance at my semi-clean desk, with
glue on top, gave me the perfect idea to get through the weekend. I’d glue
myself to the bed for two days, might not stick to my body, only a mere glue
stick, but I had the whole weekend to make it work.
The searing images of the day before
flooded me. Me standing speechless as
Hazel stared at me, her brown eyes widening as if I was a monkey let out of its
experimental cage.
Maybe Hazel’s look at lunch earlier
had said it all. I was an inhuman creature, but nothing of the supernatural
variety like Cherry would take great pleasure in. No, I resembled more of the
Marilyn Manson variety. I hated the idea of having to face Hazel again, at
least not with this body or this face.
Hmm, maybe there was an idea somewhere in all that.
Nah, dipping into Cherry’s fantasy
world was starting to mess with me. I needed to come up with some kind of way
to get Hazel to change her mind about me.
Nothing came to mind. It was useless.
My brother seemed to be the expert on
social relations. We were as different in that respect as pretty much in any
other respect.
I slowly pulled
myself out of my bed, stopping to stare at the glue before heading out my door
and down the tight hallway to my brother’s room next door.
I started to
knock on the semi-open door, when a glance at his Warriors photo reminded me
Saturday was a huge practice day for him. Even when he wasn’t practicing with
the Eagles he was doing his own practicing.
In the picture, his goofy smile
was so wide it revealed his coffee-stained teeth, My brother wasn’t any better
looking than I, but his personality always made up for what he lacked
outwardly. He never had any problem fitting in. I knew he missed who he called
his brothers, the other members on the former Salt Lake City team, but he
sacrificed for me and I had to make his sacrifice worth it.
I went back into my bedroom and
plopped down on my bed, enjoying the feel of the blankets beneath my back. The
dog fell down beside me, trying to worm her way inside a blanket. I helped her
and then reached for my dresser drawer next to my bed, where my binder rested.
I flipped through my binder from
my social anxiety group this summer. There had to be some way to redeem myself
in this packet, some way to get out coherent to come out of my mouth when I
needed them too. My parents paid big money for this class so I needed to take
advantage of it.
Searching through the worksheets,
the class flew back to me. The petite girl who actually looked like a mouse and
I rarely ever heard a peep out of her, but when I did it was always so
complimentary to the rest of us. When she read, her voice came alive and at
ease. Like all she really needed was a script to function. Two boys who seemed
scared the world was going to run them over, one who never realized he was drop
dead gorgeous and the other one who couldn’t keep his eyes off me. They made it
easy. Easy to open up and talk.
The therapist leading the group
always had a grin plastered on her mouth, but she wasn’t phony, she was a genuine
caring person. With Cherry’s help and this group, I learned there were good
things about me and that I had just as many important and valid things to say
as anyone else. I discovered my voice wasn’t so bad after all. I just needed to
find a way to bring all that I learned into my present life.
I flipped through a chapter on
self-esteem, another one on how to deal with a social anxiety attack, another
one on when crowds get overwhelming, but there just wasn’t anything that was
relevant to my current situation. The binder itself wasn’t doing anything for
me at this time.
After throwing my binder down on
the floor, I picked up my cell phone and searched through my favorites.
Cherry’s picture and number were on top. I clicked it and waited for her to
pick up.
Loud piano music sounded,
recognizing Cherry’s playing immediately. “Talk,” she said, only slightly
lowering the volume.
“Want to come over, when you’re
done, that is.”
“I’m done when you get here.” The
beautiful music slowed to a stop, replaced by a heavy pound of the piano bench
closing.
“On my way,” I said, clicking the
off button.
I headed out to the garage where
I fixed my flat tire with adding some air but it wasn’t working so I put a
patch over where the air was leaking, probably someone’s idea of a joke at
school. I hoped it wasn’t from an enemy, but so far that seemed to only include
Mercedes and there were no finger nail polish on my tire so. That probably
ruled her out.
After a refreshing bike ride
through a few other middle-class neighborhoods the houses started to get ritzy
and ritzier until the gates of Aspen Heights loomed ahead of me. I placed in
the six digit code, a code that changed almost once a month. To my relief, the
gates opened, and my bike adjusted form gravel to cement roads.
After a few GC houses, I saw
Cherry’s, large gated house, four times the size of my own, with a yard bigger
than the space where our house resides. She had so many trees and chipmunks. I
loved riding my bike up to her porch, as long as I avoided her Uncle. He was
mean.
Speak of the devil, there he was
standing there, reeking of alcohol. He saves being plastered for the weekend.
“Got a boyfriend yet?”
I shook my head no, wondering why
Cherry never told him I wasn’t straight. Then again, he was a racist homophobe.
“Sifting through some offers,” I
said, humoring him. I didn’t want to be on his bad side. He’s been violent to
Cherry’s Aunt before.
“Well it’ll be one lucky man,” he
said, his tone creeping me out.
I knocked on the front door while
he stayed in the open three-car garage, working on his Ferrari. When nobody answered,
I checked my phone. The green light signaled there was a text, it read, ‘Walk
right in.”
Like instinct, we simultaneously
sat in our usual seats on the leather couch, her on the right side without a
pillow and me on the left with a purple pillow she kept for me.
I wondered why, with a room like
this, she drove that blue Malibu parked outside that I could see from her
gigantic bay window. She explained once, said it was her mother’s. But she
wouldn’t tell me anything else. She stayed with her Aunt and Uncle since both
of her parents had passed away in an arson fire. They never caught who did
it.
I mean she had a leather couch in
her bedroom. Who had a leather couch in their bedroom? Who had the room for that?
Cherry wrapped
me up in her arms. “So glad you’re here bestie.”
As always with
Cherry the nervousness slowly left my body. I’m no longer drowning with shyness
I got back up on the surface and started to breath easier. Unafriad to speak my
mind or raise the volume of my voice. With Cherry I could be completely myself.
“So what’s new, Cherry that goes on
top of a sundae?” I followed Cherry’s moves as she crossed her legs on the
couch. Then I placed the purple pillow I
was leaning against and put it on my lap.
“So what’s up.?”
I gratefully picked up a half-empty
water bottle left from Cherry and them I drank the rest of it in a few large
gulps. Germs were never something the two of us worried about. I tried to
figure out where to start, without sounding obsessed or crazy. “Remember
yesterday at the end of lunch?” I didn’t wait for a nod, before continuing.
“When Hazel tried to talk to me and instead I made the biggest loser out of
myself, standing there with my mouth gaping open. And you had to speak for me. I
can’t believe it. Well, I can believe it. Am I destined to live in Subway
during lunch hour for the rest of the school?
“Doesn’t sound that horrible? In
fact, a veggie sandwich sounds delicious right now,” Cherry chimed in.
My stomach responded as if it heard,
grumbling loudly.
Cherry laughed and then continued to
laugh. At first I felt offended, but then I laughed along with her. Her laugh was
so funny and snort-like it became contagious.
Coming up for air, she explained.
“You know it’s weird. When I first met you, I couldn’t get a word out of you,
now I can’t get you to shut up.”
True. I closed my mouth. I do talk
too much sometimes, as my brother liked to tell me often.
My brother used to be my best friend.
He seemed relieved I had someone else to vent to for hours about nothing. Paul
listened most of the time when his phone wasn’t beeping. But his phone was
always beeping. Paul never had trouble landing in the middle of the popular
crowd. Here was no exception.
Cherry, on the other hand, always had
to be doing something with her attention, whether watching TV or playing piano,
but she always seemed to hear every word I said or pretended too.
Deciding to stop boring her with the
subject of me, I changed the topic to her. “What about you?”
“What about me what?”
“”You like anybody at school.”
“Not really.” She picked up two DVD
cases from the end table next to her and then asked, “Desert Island or Blood
Rose?”
Not being in the mood for soft porn
and in way on overload with vampires lately, I pointed to the season one of the
earlier. I wanted to keep talking, find out more about her and what to do about
my problem. But I knew from experience, that Cherry wasn’t the chattiest talker
and you had to sometimes give her time to respond to things in her own way.
Cherry
walked to her walk-in closet to put back the other TV collection. My friend was certainly unique, not
that I had any other friends to compare her to. But only an interesting person
would place their entertainment items like DVD collections and music CDs all
over her roomy closet instead of clothes or shoes or anything that goes on the
body. Rather her clothes fit inside two six-drawer dressers with scarves and
hats placed on top of them. I’ve never seen her wear designer clothes or
anything ritzy. But she did probably have every movie known to man, including probably
every 3D movie that had ever come out.
A giant throw fleece blanket with the
cast and crew of Blood Throat rested on her bunk bed. Only it was not really a
bunk bed, because there was no bed below the top bunk, instead there rests a
desk for her to do her studies, but she probably used it to spend most of her time playing on the internet. I never saw
her study. She was an average student and never seemed bothered by that fact. I
wondered sometimes where her drive in life was besides becoming a better piano
player and memorizing her favorite teenage supernatural shows.
Cherry was interesting. She loved fun
but didn’t so much enjoy joining sports or joining any other kind of club or
activity. She could even be popular if she wanted, possibly more popular than
Hazel, but she had a clear distaste for the other GC’s or for any kind of
conformity.
A piece of hair flew in my face, so I
uncrossed my legs and jumped off the couch to head for her full-length mirror,
behind her closet door. Placing the strand back behind my ear, I stared into
the mirror as Cherry approached the mirror and started making faces.
Didn’t make sense that we were
friends when I was somewhere between pretty and ugly, not movie star category.
And Cherry easily could be the prettiest girl in school. I was a little too
tall with long thin hair and a semi-flat chest. She was rounded up top in the C
range and her height was something I envied, at already five-feet-eight inches
tall, I’d kill to not tower over most people, particularly girls.
I
bumped Cherry to get her to stop making faces and out of my mirror time. It did
feel good to be able to look at myself in the mirror, something I was afraid to
do most of my life, hating my reflection, but more hating the person inside it.
Closing the closet door and heading
over to the couch, I plopped back down on my usual seat.
I fiddled with my crystal key
necklace. The necklace was a graduation gift from Cherry for the therapy group
I attended over the summer. She said the necklace was extremely valuable and
that if I ever took it off, to not lose it. I wondered how some key could be so
important that she wouldn’t tell me why even with all my prodding and pleading.
I watched as Cherry placed the
disc in the blue-ray player then picked one up one of the five remotes to start
an episode of Blood Rose. I smiled, realizing how fortunate I was to have
Cherry.
I tried to pay attention, but my
mind was distracted from the characters in the show. I was sick of make-believe
characters. I wanted a full life besides just Cherry and my family. I wanted a
group of friends, like in the show, maybe even one who wanted to date me.
Better yet. Date me exclusively.
I wasn’t sure what I could do
about my desires right now, so I focused on the show. A dorky guy trying to win
the heart of a popular girl, like that was ever going to happen. Actually this
sounded familiar, way to familiar.
Wait. Wait a minute.
“I’m going to do that.” I said
out loud.
“What?” Cherry jerked her head.
“That. The show.”
“Turn into a werewolf.”
Do I really have to dignify that
one with a response? “I’m going to find out what she’s into and pretend to be
interested in the same thing.” If the dorky guy can do it, so can I.
“You sure? Stiles isn’t exactly
the best with the ladies.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe this
will change things for him.”
Cherry paused the show and winkled
her freckled nose. “For being like brilliant, you need to check one of your
fuses in the romantic department. Things are way more complicated. You can’t
expect a girl like Hazel to be impressed with anything other than money, fast
cars and sexy people.”
“No, there’s more to her than
that. I know it.” Nobody shallow would work so hard at learning someone else’s
culture and their language. She seemed deep to me, even if Cherry wasn’t aware
of it. Maybe being too close to somebody could make it harder to see them
clearly.
Sighing dramatically, Cherry
swooped off the couch in one swift movement. She opened a drawer of a dresser
I’d never seen her open before and came back with a stack of what looked like
yearbooks and a few personal photos.
She handed them over to me, and I
noticed a smiley Hazel from a few recent years. It seemed strange that Cherry
had few single wallet-sized pictures of Hazel. What was she doing with those?
They weren’t friends before, were they? Cherry had never said anything.
“Don’t ask,” Cherry said, as if
reading my mind.
I guess I’d have to probe her
some other time. Now I needed to find out what Hazel was into, I mean besides
the obvious; France, cheerleading and popularity.
Cherry took a yearbook from last
year, their sophomore year, and flipped to the credits, where the students’
names and every page they were on was listed in the back. Pointing at a name
with her finger, I leaned in to see who it was.
Hazel Montgomery. She had lines
of page numbers unlike the other students who only had a few single or
double-digit numbers next to their name.
It took me almost an hour to find
anything I could use. Cherry had gone back to Blood Rose.
Underneath Hazel’s sophomore class presidential picture was a quote from
a late nineties flick.
It appeared to be a quote from
the movie. I’d heard about it, some hot lesbian scenes, but I’d never rented
it. Afraid it’d be more of a porno movie then one with a plot, but it gave me
an idea. A good one, I hoped. I could rent the movie and it would give me
something to talk to her about. With my almost photographic memory, I’d only
have to watch it a few times and be able to quote it verbatim, appearing to
have watched it many times throughout my life.
“This could help. I could buy
this movie and then have something to talk to her about on Monday.”
“I don’t know why you’re wasting
your time.” Cherry got up off the couch and started pacing her room, avoiding
my gaze.
“What, you don’t think I’m good
enough to be with her?” I stood up and took a hold of her arm to stop her
pacing.
Cherry stood, looking past me to
the window, where my memory serves to show a good shot of the side of Hazel’s
house. She shook her head, “Hazel would
be lucky to have you in her life.
“Then what is it?”
Instead of responding to my
question, she said, “if you’re going to do this even with my protests, you’re
going to need some help, like financial goods for one.” Cherry stepped over to
her desk, directly underneath her bunk bed and picked up her piggy bank. She brought it over to the couch before
reaching inside and retrieving a wad of hundred dollar bills rather than
pennies or some other coins. My eyes seemed to bulge out of my sockets. That
was a lot of money. A lot!
“I have my own money.” I lifted
out my pockets, but only a few quarters fell out.
Cherry half-smiled while handing
over three-hundred dollar bills. I must have looked at the money as if it was
poisonous because she said. “It won’t bite you.”
“This is too much. I was only
going to buy the DVD.”
“Oh, pocket change.” The sad part
was she probably wasn’t kidding. She had three separate bank accounts, all of
which she had access too. “You might need more reinforcements, like clothes,
hair cut, whatever. Just take it.”
“No. No way can I take this.” I
wasn’t sure the thought of all that money made me want to vomit or steal it and
run screaming, so I could pay for an Ivy League education. But stealing was
never my thing. Envy, on the other hand, was my thing.
Reminding myself how lonely it
would be to live alone all the time, I’d only once seen her Aunt and Uncle a
few times and that was enough. The Aunt never came out of her room and her
Uncle worked sixty hours a week.
Cherry protested further, until I
finally gave in. What seemed like twenty minutes later and after promising her
I’d pay her back. I placed it at the bottom of my country fake-leather boots,
because there was no way it was going to stay in place in these flimsy pockets.
After checking her watch, Cherry
jumped up from the couch and started heading for the door. I followed closely
behind, wondering what she was up too.
“Work. Work. Going to be late for
a very important date, no time to lose, no time to waste.” She sang the entire
way down the stairs and out the door. She couldn’t be a professional singer,
even if she bought her fans’ affection.
Instead of going out the front
door, she stepped into the three-car garage. Her Aunt’s Mercedes and her
Uncle’s Corvette sat next to one another, but surprisingly she passed both of
them and the key rack where both the keys rested, something her relatives must
leave for her to use in emergencies.
But she passed both of them, probably not
wanting to go to work in a flashy car and stopped at her Malibu, a car that had
seen better days, looking way unfitting next to cars almost the same price as
my house.
Unsure why Cherry bothered
working as a librarian part-time, her Aunt and Uncle gave her so much money
when they left on their vacations, she could create a library in her name.
“I’d ride with you home, but the
books are calling.” She entered a code and closed the garage before riding off
into the reddish-blue sunset.
It made no sense that Cherry
worked at a library or anywhere really. She was set for life. She even had a trust
fund that started on her eighteenth birthday from a wealthy late grandfather.
Besides the filthy rich part, it
didn’t make sense she worked at a library. I mean wouldn’t she be more
comfortable in a movie theater or volunteering for a Halloween haunted house. I
know I haven’t told Cherry all my secrets, but she was clearly hiding more than
I was.
Chapter Four
A glance at myself in a store window on my bike ride toward
school told me Cherry had created a drastic change in me. When I brought to her
the leftover money from buying Hazel’s favorite DVD, Three-Way, she told me
there was more I could do to impress the popular girl.
Yesterday Cherry warned me and said
Hazel wasn’t worth all this, as she had driven me all around
in her Malibu, buying me new
clothes at Aspen Heights Mall, tossing my old clothes in a dumpster outside of
Foot Locker, taking me to Fantastic Sam’s, dropping money as if it could
regenerate itself.
My blah brown hair was no longer
stringy and it blended well with the dark blonde extensions, giving me both
length and color and bringing out my hazel eyes. The low v-neck Hollister top
combined with my padded Victoria Secret push-up bra enhanced my breasts almost
two cup sizes. While these new skinny jeans accented my bubble butt without
making my hips look giant-wide. My plaid
boots replaced my usual high pumps, placing me back to my regular 5’8, losing a
few inches. I no longer looked like an awkward giraffe, towering over everyone,
including most of the boys.
I loved my new look and how it felt,
the jeans were soft and comfortable. I could now take on school, blend in,
without sticking out like purple hair. I could hardly wait to get to the high
school so I sped up.
The sight of a short-dark haired girl
caught my attention; I was staring as she turned around, probably feeling my
gaze. With a pinched expression, her eyes landed on mine. I was disappointed
and relieved that she wasn’t Hazel. I jerked my head away, but it was too late.
I ran into the bicycle rack, collapsing
on the floor with my bike falling hard on top of me. Now I was glad I couldn’t
afford a mountain bike and was stuck with this small, cheap one. It still hurt,
mainly from my butt landing hard on the gravel. That was going to leave one
bitch of a mark. I threw the bike off
me, and almost hit a freshman with it.
To make matters even worse, Hazel,
the real one, passed by at that moment with the blonde-curled girl from lunch
and one of my classes. I think her name was Sarah or something. Great, my whole
plan today was to impress Hazel not to look like a complete freak in front of
her; so far so not happening, but I did have another embarrassing moment to go
on my Denver belt. Too bad a bible couldn’t save me right now.
“Oh my, you ok? I saw you fall. Boy
that looked bad. Should I go get the nurse?” The blonde finally stopped,
standing inches from me. The sweet smell of peaches coming from her floated
through me. I loved having the pretty cheerleader fall all over me. Just wish
this was happening on better terms, without me releasing her hand to wipe dirt
of my new butt-hugging jeans.
For the first time I noticed a few
pimples outlining her pale, but pretty face. Something about this high-strung
girl reminded me of Cherry, giving me the ease to speak. “I’m okay. Not a
scratch on me.” I lied. Sure my legs and butt were covered with scratches and
bruises.
“Oh my, I’m so relieved. I hope
you’ll stop by the nurse’s just in case. Maybe she can give you an
over-the-counter pain pill. So not the benefits of the real thing, but it will
help…”
Her fast words faded in the
background as Hazel’s huge brown eyes landed on mine, not once blinking her
forever lashes, as if trying to see into my soul. I wanted to melt into a
puddle and slither my way out of there. “Much better,” Hazel finally said, looking me
up and down in a creepy but mysterious fashion.
“Thanks,” I said, wanting to say
more. Wanting to mention her favorite movie, Three-Way, from her
yearbook quote but I kind of hated it. I watched it when Cherry dropped me off
last night, stayed up till one in the morning. And it was so not worth it. I
preferred tragic love stories over plots where everyone was out for some big
sum of money only to sacrifice all their morals to get it.
Hazel looked past me to something
apparently more interesting. Not that that would be hard to do. I needed to say
something. Say anything.
Before I could, Hazel tugged the girl
on her arm and they headed off together. I sighed in relief and placed my
shoulders back in dancer stance, straight and proud with my head up, even if it
didn’t match my level of confidence. Fake it till you make it, was something I
heard often in my therapy group this last summer. I hate that I was in therapy,
it was so embarrassing. I would melt with
humiliation if Cherry, my parents or Paul ever told anybody. If Hazel ever
found out, I’d switch schools, but stay in the district so my parents and
brother wouldn’t have to move again.
After picking up and locking my bike
on the rack, I slowly moved to the front doors and into the hallway. Not ready
to start my school day, I began searching for Cherry, who could always make me
feel better. She had to be around here somewhere, but there were no friendly
faces anywhere.
People started turning my way, causing
me to worry I sported a huge stain from this morning’s blueberry waffles. I
looked down but saw nothing. A few boys whispered as I passed them and one of
them whistled to get my attention. Certain the mockery and bullying had begun;
I tugged at my extensions, almost pulling one out. I had to get out of here
fast. Take a sprint and never look back.
Wait. Was that a hint of jealousy
flickered in the cluster of freshman girls’ faces I just passed. Something I’d
only ever seen directed at other girls. I couldn’t believe it. And the same boy
who had whistled wasn’t trying to make fun of me, he wasn’t adding to it by
calling me a zoo animal. He winked at me and said, “Who’s the hot new girl?”
But I sat behind him in History, for
a month now.
And this was only the beginning.
Attention grabbed me wherever I went. At my locker, the boy next to me started
talking to me. Noticing me for the first time all semester, “Hey, are you new
here?”
Instead of answering him, my body
froze into place, including my mouth, pasted shut by nervousness.
“Don’t worry. It’s always stressful
you’re first day. Catch up with me later for lunch or something?”
I nodded, even though I made a mental
note to avoid him the rest of the day. Because of it, I packed more than just
my English books in my backpack. The weight of it all made it difficult to keep
up with my confident dancer stance, but to my relief the rest of the road to
English was uneventful.
I stepped into English class;
desperately searching for Cherry. But she was nowhere in sight so I sat down in
the my usual seat in the back and opened my backpack and fiddled through it for
the stuff I’d need for class, careful not to draw any more attention or get in
a situation where I actually have to communicate with anyone. Especially without my backup, as sad as it
is, I was terrified who I’d have to talk with next.
Don’t get me wrong. I loved all this
attention. I loved that people were noticing me; they even think I’m hot. It
was better than a dream come true, but I was still adjusting and was worried
I’d end up making an ass out of myself soon.
As more people sat down, I opened my
southern antebellum novel and pretended to seriously focus on the words. Until
I realized it was upside down, but fixed my mistake quickly, but not quick
enough to get a curious glance from a junior gymnast, before she found her
seat. I could probably teach her a few things or two, since I spent most of my
fifteen years in my mom’s personal gym, where she taught gymnastics and
dancing. But that wasn’t going to help me now. I would’ve tried out for the
gymnastics team, but I only loved performing on the floor, hated the beams,
bars and vault. They didn’t have a gymnastics team here, anyway.
Plus, I can be pretty clumsy like ten
minutes ago when I fell on my ass. I can’t believe Hazel told me I looked much
better. I assume it was a compliment. I think I look better. But what if Hazel
had meant I look much better than my usual dog-ugly appearance. Maybe she just
thought I passed for a human being now.
“Kenzie,” Cherry called, as she
skipped in side-by-side with an old-friend of hers, a senior named Sam. I
wasn’t sure what Sam was doing in here, advanced junior English was so not her
class.
One long braid rested over Cherry’s right
shoulder, while a few strands of her strawberry-blonde hair fell over her left
shoulder. She matched the girl-next-door type, except her confidence was way
higher than the typical girl-next-door.
I waved, but Cherry didn’t notice.
She talked animatedly with Sam, unaware or ignoring the rude comments and dirty
looks from other students. A boy in the back called Sam a dyke and a she-male.
I watched as Sam stomped over to the
boys, hitting all of them with her book-bag before heading out of the
classroom. The boys cowered and shut up until she left the classroom. They seemed
to share my fear of Sam.
But Cherry never acted afraid. She never even
seemed to care if someone was a gamer geek, a football stud, or the most
popular girl in class, she treated people the same unless they messed with her
best friends. Glaring at the boys in the back, she hopped into her usual seat
next to me, so glad none of the teachers at this school were into assigned
alphabetical seating, like my other one.
Not realizing my heart had stopped,
until it started up again. I still get scared the seat next to me will never
get taken, but Cherry always takes it. Unlike so many before her, she was
one-of-a-kind.
“Hi y’all,” I said, it was a private joke
between Cherry and me. I loved using a fake southern accent, even thought the
farthest south I’d ever been was New Mexico.
“Hi bloody beautiful,” Cherry had
chosen to adopt a London accent after her favorite vampire character of all time,
from the series, she said, created the modern supernatural craze.
“Thanks hon.” I told her, meaning it. I owed
her in a disastrous way. Not only for the large sum of money she lent me, but
for the many hours she spent yesterday driving me around in her Malibu and helping
me shop and for helping me with my hair. And for even giving me the idea to do
a make-over, it was perfect. Now I needed to work on my inner make-over,
particularly my speechless problem I had whenever Hazel looked my way. “I’ll
pay it all back.” I said, meaning it. Whatever was left in my savings from
babysitting, allowance or from mowing my parents’ lawn was going directly to
her, even if it will probably only cover a small portion of the cost.
“No problemo. Jus’ pocket change.
What are friends for?” Cherry smiled as
wide as a Cheshire cat, showing her gleaming straight teeth.
I smiled with a closed mouth,
something I always did since my teeth were somewhat crooked. My parents
couldn’t pay for the high costs of braces. My dad wasn’t insured at the time as
a journalist, but now he has a good job at the Denver Chronicle with insurance.
He commutes the forty-five-mile stretch everyday in his jeep. At least the
paper pays for gas when he’s on the job.
“Then why don’t you look happier?”
Cherry asked, dropping the British accent.
Before I could answer, a recording of
a grandfather-clock sound interrupted us. We so didn’t have one of those clocks
on campus.
Ignoring the school’s version of a
ring, Cherry turned to my side in her chair, giving her back a stretch, while
moaning in relief. “I think I broke something this morning.” I could barely
hear her over the chiming. She had mentioned last night she was going to help
Sam move this morning before school.
I waited for the chime to end, but still with
the teacher absent, loud voices drummed around the room. “Nobody put a gun to
your head, or did they?” Sometimes I wondered about Sam’s capabilities toward
violence; seemed more on the highly plausible side. If anyone were to walk into
school with a semi-automatic I’d bet it would be her. I think she’s cute, dug
her butch style, but every time I saw her she seemed to be physically attacking
someone. Not that the other party hadn’t clearly deserved it.
Why were Sam and Cherry friends,
anyway? It made absolutely no equivocal sense. They were way different. Sam was
a total loner and seemed to be an ‘I hate the world’ type. Cherry loved life
and loved people, except a few popular ones and always saw the softer side of
everything.
I gasped as Hazel appeared in the
doorway of Advanced English. Not sure why I was so surprised, she seemed way
smart yesterday in French class and she was the Junior, not me. I was the one
who didn’t fit in this class, that was above my class in school.
I stared entranced as Sarah and Hazel
chatted animatedly, barely acknowledging the background waves and hi’s coming
their way.
Miss Aimee, the teacher, bounced into
the room, stopping at her desk to shake her Salon-Selective-commercial hair and
then approached the two royalty and they had a lengthy whispered discussion,
minutes after class started.
I went back to my book and Cherry
rested her head on her desk. In minutes, she’d probably be snoring so I’d have
to wake her up soon. I made a mental note not to forget.
They all eventually broke up and
glided to their seats. Miss Aimee positioned herself behind her desk as she started
reading sections from Beautiful Fairies, my favorite paranormal fiction
novel. The only one I ever finished all the way through.
Cherry’s loud snore disrupted the
reading. Miss Aimee frowned and cleared her throat, something she only did with
the unpopular kids. I bumped Cherry a few times before she finally woke up, with
drool dripping from her lips.
Hazel and Miss Aimee snickered. Everyone else
adored Cherry. Of course they did. Cherry always took the time to listen and
help others.
Miss Aimee announced we were going to
watch the Beautiful Fairy movie tomorrow. I refused to cheer with the rest of
the class. I liked the book more, had it practically memorized. Even though it
was more Cherry’s flavor of book since it was a supernatural young adult novel.
I first borrowed it from her, but I fell in love with the realistic forbidden
love and was never without it since. I was the one who suggested it be on our
year-long reading list. Of course I told Cherry to mention it for me, still
hard to talk in front of a class, unless I was reading from something. In that
way, I had something in common with the shy-girl from group.
I sighed, watching Cherry pull off
the wrapper of her Gum Sucker and started licking it, while taking turns to
quietly hum a tune that sounded like the song she played for me on her grand piano the other day. I
wanted some of her peacefulness to travel my way.
But so far peace was the farthest
emotion from me. Especially when I dared look Sarah and Hazel’s way, they were
texting like mad bunnies not even bothering to put the phone under the desk.
They were the only ones able to get away with that. It helped that Miss Aimee
was their cheer coach. Sarah was the captain of the junior varsity squad and
Hazel, even thought she wasn’t a senior, was captain of the varsity squad.
They never looked my way, but I still
worried I was the topic of their chronic texting. If it wasn’t for Cherry right
next to me, whispering to me occasionally between licks, I’d be locked on their
every move. My nerves were so shot; I
needed a licensed massage therapist or two to relax me.
When Miss Aimee asked for volunteers
and nobody offered, she started acting out a scene, playing three characters.
It was kind of funny. She worked hard trying to get the class involved;
dissecting modern paranormal novels to read in class wasn’t even a quarter of
it.
I turned to Cherry, needing some
sympathy and advice about my disastrous morning. I leaned over, getting close
to her ear and said, “My bike fell on me this morning.”
Cherry dropped her blow pop in
surprise. I forgot I always told stories like my Dad with the most dramatic
phrase on top. She dusted the sucker off with her hand and glanced at it,
before deciding to place it back in her mouth. She was going to get thirty
cavities by the time she’s twenty.
I continued my story, ending with the
most important part. “…Hazel said I was looking much better, whatever that
means. I hope that’s a good thing.”
Ignoring my comment on Hazel’s
comment, she said “I said I would pick you up.”
“I know I was there, but it’s okay,
you do enough for me already.” I loved Cherry for wanting to help me out so
much and for not wanting me to ruin my new outfit or lose one of my clip-in
hair extensions. But I didn’t want to owe her for the rest of my life, besides
I hadn’t wanted to wake up an hour early for school, since she had helped Sam
move this morning from her alcoholic Dad’s house to her own apartment.
Sam just got emancipated or a fancy
term for becoming an official 17-year adult, and all that came with it. Didn’t
sound fun to me, but better than more bruises, the two of us were privy to on
Shadow lake this summer the few times Sam came with us. She tried to hide them,
by never swimming, but one time Cherry had talked her into it. After the heavy
cover-up escaped into the lake, Sam’s legs, back and arms were covered with
bruises. As usual, Cherry did her best
to save her, talking her into emancipation and into pressing charges against
her father. His court date was coming up soon. We all hoped he fried.
Shadow Lake was Cherry and mine’s
favorite hangout all summer. Less than a mile from the gated community to the
west rested a beautiful lake, where we spent almost all of our free time. I
loved nature. Swimming in the lake was heaven, even a pleasant warm in August.
The only other activity that trumpeted such pleasure was when I was dancing. So
hooked to my movements, I forget to eat or take a break, something I never had
to worry about at the lake because the one thing Cherry liked more than
vampires was food. And she always brought plenty of it with us.
Hazel, laughing in a sinister way,
brought me back to the present. I wanted
to get my hands on those text messages, anything to figure out what Hazel
really thinks about me. I needed to discover if I ever stood a chance in hell
of becoming her friend or girlfriend, and if I ever stood a chance of making
the JV cheerleading squad next year or making new friends. Not wanting to push my luck, I tried to push
my romantic thoughts of her aside.
Luckily the clock chose that moment
to chime. Hazel and Sarah were the first ones out as they were the last ones
in. The rest of the class soon followed them, as if the last person left would
somehow combust into flames.
“I wouldn’t worry about what Hazel
meant. I’m sure it only meant that you look hot, which you totally do,” Cherry
said, as we collected our things and slowly walked to our separate classes.
“See you at lunch,” I told her.
“Let’s meet at Subway.”
When I frowned, she added. “Hey, you
owe me; I cannot possibly go another day without the sweetest taste of
meatballs and drippy warm cheese.”
“Okay.” I said, reluctant to leave my
friend. We stood in front of my sophomore advanced History class, but so didn’t
want to go in with the roomful of strangers.
“Hey, good luck driving in driver’s
ed. It’s your day, right?”
I grunted. “Don’t remind me.”
Cherry gave me a sideway hug before
leaving. In the distance, I saw Hazel watching us, a shadow of black glistened
in her brown eyes, as she retrieved books from her locker. I wondered what all
that was about. What was it with the two of them, what happened all those years
I wasn’t around?
The teacher wasted no time getting me
behind the wheel. Before we even left school property, I was driving. I
silently hoped my affairs were all in order as he started me off with a wide
street, but for the life of me I couldn’t stay in the lines.
So far I had to be the
craziest driver to ever come across driver’s ed. Or so the boy in the backseat
said as I started to run into the curb. The pig-tail girl in back started
screaming. I could take the criticism, but the screaming shot my nerves.
The two boys laughed, one
of them being the driver’s education teacher, who was also the coach of my
brother’s baseball team. Paul always said what an immature fuck-ass he was. I
wouldn’t use such harsh words, but I agreed wholeheartedly.
I struggled to focus on
the road, to keep my eyes on the white Toyota in front of me and not on the
eventful day I just had. Besides my bike fall, I wanted many more of these
days to come. Pretty soon I’d be a normal teenage girl who actually got invited
to parties and who went out on actual dates. I couldn’t wait.
“Stop” I heard two voices
scream simultaneously, jerking me out of my thoughts. One seemed to come from Mr. Phillips and the
other from the boy in back. Other hands took over the wheel, as I clasped my
free hands to my heart; certain death was coming, at least for someone. A
glance in my rearview mirror told me the pig-tailed sophomore had frozen in
shock, her mouth opened and hands in front of her, without one sliver of
movement. It looked like she was in one of those horror movies where all the
characters freeze, at least Mercedes did. But me and the car didn’t freeze and
no matter how hard I slammed on the brakes, the car was determined not to stop.
This had to be bad. Afraid to look,
but knowing I had no choice. I did. What I saw caused me to slam hard on the
brakes, but it was too late.
I headed straight toward Mercedes and
Hazel in their short gym shorts and white tank-tops. They turned around, with
horror gleaming from their wide expressions as the car went at full speed their
way.
The oxygen flew out of my body. I closed
my eyes while pounding hard on the horn, even though I know they saw me. I
wasn’t thinking logically.
I started praying to a Jesus I wasn’t sure
I believed in. But not even Jesus could keep me from hitting the girl of my
dreams and her mean side-kick, from smashing them into the sidewalk. My
high-school life ruined. A knife of guilt stabbed me at my selfish thought.
There could be much more at stake than a high school outcast. Like my future
soul-mates’ life.
