Biker Class (14 page)

The sun was shining brightly through the trees, flickering as the
leaves obscured it for seconds at a time, then moved. The air was directly
between warm and cool, the perfect temperature. Melanie felt so…
free
,
so clean, inside and out. There was no scent in the air… simply just a
shimmering, cleansing, but
scentless
intake of breath. The sound of
rustling leaves was all she could hear.
That, and the
occasional calling of a distant bird.
It was, as anyone would probably
describe it, a perfectly beautiful day.

She was at an unfamiliar crossroads. It was two gravel roads,
different in size but not in length, both extending too far away for visibility
to discover what lied at the end. The crisp, clean air and rustling leaves was
all that would distract her senses, but if anything, it seemed to clear them.
To the left was a curving, seemingly perfectly shaped, dark-tinted gravel road.
It was inviting, but mysterious. And for some reason, the mystery was an
uneasiness-filled mystery. She was curious, but
something
about that
path just… didn't feel right.

To the right was a lightly colored gravel road that was as straight as
a board. It, unlike
it's
opposer
,
was
not
visibly flawless. A few rocks were strewn across the bright green
grass that was on both sides of the road, and random weeds with blooms were
sprouted in random areas on the right. It was inviting, and bode a sense of
mystery as well. It was an uneasy mystery, but the uneasiness in this road was
not uncomfortably so. It was frightening because it was the unknown, but unlike
the left, she didn't feel as if there was more than one reason to turn away
from this road. It just seemed… safer.

So, following her intuition, Melanie turned to the right. Her dark
boots made the gravel crunch beneath her as she walked, but it was almost a
comforting sound. The sky was a light blue and the sun seemed to be playing a
game with her, peeking out at her from between the branches of trees that lined
her way. She smiled that contagious smile that she was known for, breathing in
deeply that mysteriously clean air. Her blonde-brown hair shone in the sun. A
couple of robins flew above her head, towards her destination, and she watched
until they were out of her sight. She looked to her right and saw an open
grassy plain, beautiful to behold. Melanie looked to her left and saw the
distant road that she had decided not to take; and she was shocked to see that
it suddenly wound sharply, curving into a bank of mist.

Melanie turned her head back to the front, the mist making the
uneasiness that she disliked so much return. The beautiful sun made it fade and
she sighed in relief as she continued to walk down the rocky road. She wondered
where this road led. It was somewhere curious and, if her stomach was correct,
lovely. She sped up her step, anxious now. A light breeze swept towards her and
made her hair
blow back
, and she smiled. It felt
absolutely wonderful. She wished she could be in a place like this all of the
time. Why couldn't the rest of California always feel this…
perfect
?

It almost didn't feel like she was in a beach state. It felt like she
was in the country. The air wasn't salty, the trees weren't palm, and the sky
was void of a single cloud. She kept walking.

And walking.

And walking.

Taking in everything.

And walking.

And walking.

Finally, the beautiful oasis of a road ended. It came to a stop in
front of a large mass. What it was, Melanie couldn't be sure. The sun was
directly behind it, shining over
it's
edges, making it
obscure and nearly impossible to see. She squinted and shaded her eyes. With a
small, quiet gasp of realization, Melanie realized it was a home.
An incredibly large, white, marble palace.
The mansion was
two stories, four large columns in the front seeming to state
it's
beauty and importance to any passersby. Green oaks and
maples were in it's wake, small but proud and neat, homey really.

Melanie glanced around and saw multiple flower pots, pink and purple
and yellow hydrangeas blooming. The place was absolutely breathtaking, the
perfect home. It was large, but not pretentious. It was gorgeous, but not
boastful. It implied the owner had plenty of money, but
it
wasn't overtaken by a large marble fountain or a solid gold statue in the front
for looks
. It was an intimidating magnet for admiration.

Clang!

Melanie jumped, whirling to her left to find a small, untidy shed. It
almost seemed out of place beside it's opposite. Rust covered
it's
roof, and inside it's sheet metal walls was piles of
unidentifiable junk. Oil cans, wrenches, empty chip bags, dirty wrappers,
garbage. It was everywhere. Melanie hated seeing there, beside such a gorgeous
place, just seeming to shame it. Then something caught her eye. Something
within the shed seemed to be moving, and beside it was
a shining
silver. The glare from the sun on the unknown metal hurt her eyes, but she
didn't care. Curiously, she walked closer.

She stepped inside and was met by an anything but pleasant smell,
causing her to wrinkle her nose. She stepped in closer, and was shocked. Here,
in the midst of all of this trash, was a shiny new motorcycle. It gleamed in
the light from the sun that was pouring in through the open
entryway,
it's black cover and shining silver chrome speaking for itself. Suddenly, after
getting over the surprise of finding it at all, Melanie realized that it wasn't
foreign. Everything else here was foreign, new,
alien
to her. But this wasn't.

With a jolt in her stomach, Melanie took a step back. She had seen
this bike before. It almost looked like…

Clang!

She was startled again by the sound of banging metal. It had come from
the back corner of the small shed, a darker space than she had realized at
first. Melanie took a step back as more noise ensued, then she saw movement. It
was large.
Surely not an animal.
Unless
it was a dog, or a bear, or a wolf.
But that would be ridiculous. It
stood to
it's
full height, and with relief she
realized it was a person. She laughed to herself, clapping a hand to her chest.

"Oh, you scared me," she laughed. The person stepped
forward, the light covering their face and now making them visible. "Oh my
God!"

The familiar face sunk into her mind, making it race with question and
surprise. There were those blue eyes for which she always searched intentions,
the dirty blonde hair that always looked messy but flawless, and the lanky
figure that towered over her when she felt afraid.

"Jake!" Melanie exclaimed, befuddled. "What are you
doing here?"

He didn't reply, walking past her and to a small, dirty table that was
covered in miscellaneous tools and screws. He grabbed a forgotten rag and
walked to the bike and rubbed the seat until it shined even more. Jake smiled,
happily. This threw Melanie for a loop, considering he never smiled. She had
only seen a genuine smile once, and it was for a fraction of a second. She was
still questioning herself on whether it had even happened at all.

"Jake?" Melanie questioned again. He still said nothing,
stepping back with hands in pockets, looking at the machine like it was a god.
The light from the sun reflected off of the chrome and onto him, illuminating
him in a shimmering light. Suddenly, with a burst of realization, she
was seeming
to see his face for the first time that day.

It was…
different
.

Coming to think of it, Melanie saw that his hair was shorter, too.
And a little lighter than usual.
His chin wasn't as long as
normal, his cheekbones weren't quite as high, and his lips weren't as full. He
still looked like Jake, but… he almost looked
younger
. But that wasn't
possible. She must just be noticing these things for the first time. Or… maybe
it was the angel that she saw him. Yeah, that could be it. And maybe he had
gotten a trim to his hair.

"Jake?" she questioned yet again, brows raised. "Do
you… do you live here?"

"Mr. Cooper!" came a sudden call, startling her. It was
near. In walked a tall man in a clean suit, posture flawless and head held
high. "Your father wishes to see you."

Jake looked back to his bike regretfully and sighed. "All right.
I'm coming."

Was it her, or was his voice just a
little
higher than usual?

It must be her.

Melanie suddenly noticed that the man had on a pair of white gloves.
She concluded that he must be the butler.

Wait
… BUTLER? They had a butler? She knew that his father was a CEO, but a
butler
? Why was she having trouble wrapping her head around this? Maybe
it was the fact that he came to school every day wearing the same old leather
jacket, a dirty pair of jeans, and some kind of normal,
middle class-looking
t-shirt. This was crazy.

And how in the world had she even gotten here? Was coming to Jake's
house just some form of… a coincidence? How had this happened? The butler and Jake
walked out of the dirty, rust-covered shed and towards the elegant house as if
it was an every day thing. She couldn't believe this. She just
could not
believe this. And why were they ignoring her? Jake never answered her question,
and the butler didn't even glance her way. Surely Jake would be surprised to
see his tutor at his house when he hadn't even given her an address!

Unsure of what else to do, Melanie followed the two to the front
doorstep, going up the series of white, bright stairs.

She stepped inside right behind Jake, and behind her followed the
butler. The place was open, gorgeous, everything you would expect it to be from
the outside. Sunlight poured in through the windows, making the hardwood floor
brighter and the exquisite furniture seem dream-like. A large, oval, dark
cherry wood dining table sat in the middle of a room to the right. At the edge
of the table, sitting in the most elaborate chair was an older man. His brown
hair was grey at the ends and his eyes were sunken in. His blue eyes were dull,
void of life.

"Yeah, Dad?" Jake asked, taking a seat at the other end of
the table. The man sighed, his face persevering as he looked at his son.

"So, how are you liking that new motorcycle of yours?" he
asked, his hands folding together on the table. Jake looked back and forth from
his father to the window outside, showing a view of the shed.

"Uh, it's cool," he said, evidently not sure why he was
being asked this question.

"Um," Melanie said, uncomfortable that she seemed to be
intruding, "I'll just… step in the other room if you two want to be
alone."

"I'm, uh, I'm glad you like it," his father said, not having
even glanced up at Melanie. She scoffed
awkwardly,
astounded that no one had even pretended to take notice of her. What was she,
invisible?

"What did you
really
call me in to talk to me about?"
Jake asked, sitting back in his chair more dismissively, glancing back out of
the window in a longing way.

"Jake…"

"Hey, where's Mom?" he asked absentmindedly, putting his
hands back behind his head. "Isn't she usually back from work by
now?"

Mr. Cooper was looking extremely uncomfortable, running a hand through
his hair and looking much older.

"Son, she–"

"And why is the piano cover down?" Jake asked curiously,
sitting up and pointing towards the grand piano in the room next to them.
"It's always up. Mom always plays when she gets home."

"Jake, you need to listen–"

"And it's almost six o'clock. Mom always has dinner cooking by
now."

Melanie listened to the nearly deafening silence coming from the
kitchen across the foyer.

"I have news that you should–"

"Is she just staying late at work today?" Jake asked,
faintly curious. "She did look a little stressed when she left this
morning. Maybe that's why she–"

"Jake–"

"-
isn't
home. She must have had
something that's making her stay and–"

"
Jake, listen to me,
damn
it
!"
Mr. Cooper screamed, his fist coming in hard contact with the table. His suppressed
anger from the past couple of months exploded. The impact from his fist echoed
around the house as well did his voice. "She's not coming home!"

Silence.

Jake looked like he had just been told a hilarious joke. "Yeah,
right." He laughed, a little forced.

"Um, I don't– I– are you sure you don't mind me being
in here?" Melanie stammered, twisting her hands together. She shouldn't be
here. This is none of her business. Why wouldn't they even give her a second
glance?

"It's not a joke, Jake," his father said softly, all trace
of anger gone. They looked at each other for a long time, not dropping eye
contact. Finally, one of them spoke. It was quiet, but still seemed to cut the
silence like a knife. Speaking seemed
forbidden
.