Broken Road (3 page)

“Why don’t y’all meet me in the coffee shop here at the inn? I’m stayin’ at the White Swan Inn on River Road in Edgewater. Do you know where that is?”

“Yes, sir. I do.”

“Good. So then let’s plan on that then. Three tomorrow in the coffee shop. I look forward to seein’ you again and meetin’ your parents.”

“Same here, sir. Thank you.”

“No problem, son. Now don’t forget, don’t overdo it tonight.”

“I won’t, sir.”

“See you tomorrow, Jarrod.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Wyatt,” said Jarrod before hanging up the phone and turning around to find Jim, Janet, and Alec standing timorously in the doorway. The three of them looked as though they were about to drop to the floor from the anticipation.

After what seemed like forever, Alec finally asked, “What’d he say?”

“He says he can’t make it. He changed his mind and is taking an earlier flight home.”

“Liar,” said Alec.

“Jarrod, if you don’t tell us what Mr. Wyatt said right now, I’m going to drop dead from a stroke,” Jim said. “I can feel my blood pressure rising as we speak. God, it’s hot in here!” Janet absentmindedly nodded in agreement and began to pat his arm as if that would somehow help lower his blood pressure.

Jarrod gave them his best crooked smile and told his family of the conversation with Mr. Wyatt. Alec gave Jarrod a high five followed by a pound hug, while Janet and Jim smiled and hugged each other.

“That’s great, hon!,” said Janet as she embraced her son. Jim hugged him as well, then stepped away, cleared his throat, and said, “Well then, I believe I’ll go take my Diovan now. I’m happy for you, son.”

“Thanks,” Jarrod said as he gave his father that one-of-a-kind, winning smile of his again and said, “Y’know what? I’m happy for me too.” He looked at Griffin Wyatt’s business card one final time and then placed it on the counter near the phone.

Chapter Two

A
pproximately half an hour later, Jarrod’s best friend, Dante, pulled up in front of the Wentworth household and incessantly honked the horn of his ‘98 Eagle Talon. On a typical day, this would have been nothing out of the ordinary, but evidently today was an exception to the rule. The car was completely draped in black and red streamers, Cliffside’s school colors. The back and side windows were covered in window paint declaring “Raiders are #1!” and “CP Raiders BCSL State Champs!” The power ballad “We Are the Champions” blared from inside the car.

Jarrod heard the honking and yelled up to Alec, who was upstairs in his room, “They’re here! You comin’or what?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right down,” Alec responded as he quickly ran a comb through his hair. “Go ahead and I’ll meet you out there in a minute.”

Jarrod waved and muttered a quick good-bye to his parents as he headed out the door, letting the screen door slam shut. He walked quickly toward the car and saw that his other two close friends, Joey and Brendon, were in the backseat.

“Hey, what’s up?” said Jarrod as he made himself comfortable in the front seat. Joey acknowledged his greeting by saying, “‘Sup, superstar?” while Brendon smiled widely and said, “Left the front seat for you, my friend, ‘cause we didn’t know if there would be room enough for your big ‘ol head back here!” They all laughed in unison. In the meantime, Alec made his way to the car and grudgingly squeezed into the backseat between Joey and Brendon, neither one willing to give up their window seats.

Smiling at Dante while lowering the volume on the car stereo, Jarrod asked, “Since when did you turn into Mr. School Spirit?”

“Since it gave me an excuse to party,” he responded excitedly.

“And since when have you ever needed an excuse to party?” asked Brendon.

“This is true. But you see, today is special. Today is the day my best friend transformed himself from being just an ordinary kid from Jersey to…what exactly did you call him before, Joey?”

“I do believe I called him a
superstar
,” responded Joey cheerfully.

“Yeah, a superstar. It’s like Jarrod was a small, furry caterpillar just this morning, and now he’s turned into a pretty little butterfly ready to spread his wings and fly away,” he said jokingly. “What is that process called again, Professor Wentworth?” he asked loudly, inclining his head toward the backseat.

“Metamorphosis,” Alec interjected with a grin.

“Thank you, sir,” responded Dante. “Just think about it, Jarrod. Once you become famous and people realize that you’re from Jersey, maybe they’ll stop thinking of it as merely being the diner capital of the world, or worse yet, for having the most toxic waste dumps in any state in the nation.”

Although Dante had originally come from Chicago, he had grown to love New Jersey and considered himself a native son of the state. Although they were best friends, they were such polar opposites of each other. Jarrod was tall, nearing six foot two, with an amazing athletic build, wavy hair that reached just above his neckline, in a color reminiscent of dark chocolate. His eyes were so blue that they could easily be compared to the beauty of the turquoise waters off the Caribbean Sea, inviting one to luxuriate in their warm depth. Dante on the other hand, had two inches on Jarrod and was exceedingly thin. As far as muscles go, if he had any, they were hidden deep within the long, loose, ill-fitting football jerseys he preferred to wear. He kept his light-blond hair cut short in a military style and wore a single small gold loop earring in each ear. But appearance was not where their contrasts ended. While Jarrod lived and breathed sports, Dante had absolutely no interest whatsoever in participating or watching, preferring to hang out with his buddies and to crash any party he could. He was also by far one of the most intelligent people Jarrod had ever met. He could discuss anything as mundane as the reason why prepubescent teenage girls were obsessed with love stories involving vampires to the more complex subject of President Obama’s stand on foreign policies, without batting a single eyelash. Yet he refused to apply himself when it came to school. He had built a solid reputation as the class clown, and due to his infinite charm and sense of humor, was exceedingly popular with all—including the teachers who nevertheless continued to dole out Ds and Fs to him on a regular basis.

Dante and his parents had moved to New Jersey from Chicago when he was only ten years old. The move from the wildly exciting Windy City to a small, suburban town in a state best known for farming tomatoes was taxing enough, but even more difficult was leaving his friends behind. His first day in his new school was, to say the least, challenging, nerve-wracking, and beyond terrifying. All the other fifth graders looked at him as if he carried some horribly contagious disease and would pass it on to them by merely imparting them with a passing glance. Except for Jarrod. He boldly came up to him during recess, introduced himself, and asked if he wanted to join him and two others in playing four square. Since Dante had never heard of the game, Jarrod quickly explained the rules. They played together that day and became fast friends. The friendship had only grown and flourished with each passing day.

“If Springsteen wasn’t able to put Jersey on the map, I seriously doubt I’ll be able to,” Jarrod said. “Besides, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. We still don’t know anything yet. Not until tomorrow.”

“Oh c’mon, Wentworth! You want this so much, you’d give up Alec’s firstborn for it,” yelled Joey from the back.

“Hey,” wailed Alec as he punched Joey in the arm. They all started laughing, but Jarrod became somewhat serious as he looked out the passenger side window, sighed deeply, and quietly whispered, “I do want it.” Although it was barely audible, everyone seemed to either have heard it or sensed what he was thinking and kept silent.

After a few thoughtful moments, Dante said, “Dude, do me a favor and grab the AC/DC disc out of the glove compartment and put it in for me.”

From the backseat you could hear Alec groan, “Not ‘Thunderstruck’ again!”

“Excuse me,” exclaimed Dante. “I’ll pull over right now and leave you here on the side of the road if you continue to make negative comments toward the Gods of Rock ‘n Roll!”

Everyone chuckled at his retort since they all knew Dante’s appreciation of AC/DC’s music was longstanding and deep-rooted. He had always loved the group and knew the words to every song they ever recorded. “Thunderstruck” was his absolute favorite, and he called it his personal anthem. He would play it, or rather blast it, every morning in his car as he pulled out of his driveway.

Jarrod leaned forward and opened the glove compartment. He rummaged through it, pulling out various CDs, but could not find the requested one.

“It’s not in here,” said Jarrod.

“Sure it is,” Dante said. “I listened to it just this morning and then put it back in there.”

Jarrod rooted through the CDs again, shook his head, and said, “You may think you put it back in there, but you didn’t. I checked twice. It’s not in here.”

Dante leaned over and started fumbling through the glove compartment himself. Every now and then, he would look up at the road and then lower his head again. “Man, I’m almost positive I put it back in—”

“Light!” Brendon screamed from the back.

Dante rushed to step on the brake, but it was too late. The last thing the four young men saw before the horrific, crushing blow was an approaching pickup truck heading toward the passenger side of Dante’s car at full speed. The hard-hitting impact pushed the Eagle Talon across the double yellow lines before it abruptly stopped, sandwiching it between the truck and a parked car.

Aside from the horrified screams and cries for help from various witnesses, an eerie silence fell over the car like a soft hush. Five minutes later, in the far distance, light bars were flashing and the loud, high-pitched sound of sirens could be heard.

Chapter Three

“I
don’t understand why you can’t just skip going to New Jersey this summer and stay here,” Ileana said to her best friend. “You don’t even want to go.”

“I don’t have a choice,” Angel said. “My mom and dad are worried about my Aunt Helen, and they said it would make her really happy if I were to spend a few weeks with her. I think Morgan is being a pain in the ass again.”

“Morgan was born a pain in the ass.”

“I know. But there’s nothing we can do about it.” Angel looked in the mirror and frowned. “I think I’m getting a pimple.”

“You never get pimples. You’re perfect. I’d kill to have your looks.”

Angel never thought of herself as beautiful. She considered herself passably pretty and found it surprising when people would say she was beautiful or gorgeous. Naturally she liked hearing the compliments, but didn’t see what the big deal was. She would look in the mirror and see the flaws no one else seemed to notice, or if they did, were kind enough not to mention. Angel detested the three small beauty marks that formed a small triangle on her left cheek and she found that her lips were a little too plump. They almost looked as if she had injected Botox in them to give her that bee-stung look, but she hadn’t. They were just naturally full. Oh, and there was that tiny scar above her right eye, barely visible to the naked eye, but she knew it was there. She had gotten that scar during a middle school gym class one day while playing touch football. She walked away with the small scar, but the girl she had collided into had lost her two front teeth. As much as she hated the scar, she knew she had been the lucky one that day. Her long, auburn hair was nice when blown out, but took so long to dry due to its thickness that sometimes it just wasn’t worth the effort. More often than not, she let it dry naturally, revealing its natural, loose wave. The one thing she was grateful for were her eyes. She did like the color of her eyes. They were a deep green, remindful in color of a Douglas fir Christmas tree in all its splendor, but with little specks of gold surrounding the irises, making them appear almost ethereal.

“I’m far from perfect and you know it.”

Plopping herself backwards onto Angel’s bed, Ileana said “I don’t mind you being perfect. As long as I get to pick up what’s left of the discarded remains of your potential lovers, I’m okay with it.”