Ditched (35 page)

I glanced back at the book in my hand. I couldn’t just leave it here. He’d be charged for the book if it wasn’t returned. I groaned as I shuffled my feet. My injuries were starting to burn and throb. I hobbled the few feet to my bike, swung a leg over and tried to figure out how I was going to ride home carrying a book I could barely get my fingers around while gripping the handlebars.

My eyes darted around. Still no one at this end of the park, no cars coming. I sighed and lifted my tank top up, pulled out the waist band of my biking shorts and stuffed the book halfway inside. I hurriedly covered it back up with my shirt before I pedaled on home.

The small house was quiet when I walked in. Yet it was still so inviting. It was an old house. Remy had purchased it shortly after being hired at the hospital a few years ago. She’d been working on fixing it up since the day she moved in. She’d started with new carpeting and freshly painted walls on the inside. New siding, a new front porch and flowerbeds full of an array of colorful blooms on the outside.

I loved Remy’s house. It was a single story with the standard kitchen, living room, bathroom, laundry and two bedrooms. Nothing fancy but it felt like home already. I loved the huge, overstuffed couches and the overabundance of throw pillows and scatter rugs. I loved the pictures and inspirational sayings on plaques that covered the walls. Everything from her knickknacks to the comfortable queen size bed in my room, the room that used to be her guest room, made her house feel like a home. It had been such a long time since I lived somewhere that felt like home.

As much as I missed my mom, I was looking forward to the stability that living with Remy would provide. For once, I’d actually unpacked all of my belongings. I’d be turning eighteen midway through the year but Remy was insistent I stay with her until the following fall, when I’d be starting college. It felt good to be wanted for a change.

I’d offered to get a job, to help out. Remy had only been offended by the offer. She insisted that she was happy to have me. That she wanted me, for once, to enjoy the school year. She didn’t want me to have any worries.

Instead, I did my best to help keep her already immaculate house clean. I did the majority of the laundry and the cooking. She took care of her flower beds and the grocery shopping. After only a month we’d fallen into a comfortable rhythm of living together.

I set the book on the kitchen counter. I padded off to the bathroom and took a bottle of ibuprofen out of the medicine cabinet. I gulped two of them down with some water. There was a small ice pack in the freezer. I took it out and tried to push it through my tangled hair so it could rest on my scalp. I sat at the kitchen table with my head down for a few minutes, waiting for the pain killers and the ice to do their job. After a while I decided the ibuprofen was helping but the ice didn’t seem worth the trouble.

I headed back to the bathroom. One look in the mirror and all I could do was groan. My hair was a disaster of chaotic curls, my expression still looked stunned and I had something—probably,
hopefully
just dirt—smeared across my face. No wonder he’d been so anxious to get out of there.

Oh well
, I told myself. It could’ve been worse. I could have landed on my face and scraped up my nose and busted out some teeth. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, there’s always a bright side to everything. It’s just that sometimes you have to work a little harder at finding it.

I quickly showered, letting the warm water wash away the sweat, blood and grime. Cleaned up, my injuries didn’t look too bad. I was hoping they would heal quickly. I didn’t want to start out my senior year in a new school looking like a first grader that had fallen off the steps of the school bus. I toweled off and then smeared on some antibiotic cream. Then I squirmed into a clean tank top and shorts. I went through the elaborate ordeal of getting my hair under control and slathered on some of Remy’s yummy caramel scented lotion.

All the while I was wondering if I knew
him
. If he knew me, I must know him. My memories from back then were foggy. So much had happened since we moved away. I pressed my mind back in time anyway, not sure if his face was familiar to me or not. Those eyes. I should remember those eyes. But then again, I was still in elementary school when we moved. My life was in limbo for a while and the boy-crazy stage didn’t really hit until the middle of seventh grade.

The only people I really remembered from Beaumont were my best friends, Hailey Marshall and Olivia Walker. Remy had dug out an old picture of the three of us. It had been taken on the swing set at our old house. It was a big, three level home with log siding and dark green trim. The backyard had been full of apple trees. Indoors, it had been full of love and happy childhood memories.

My first night at Remy’s I had stared at that picture. Me, the misfit of the group with my wild hair, chubby cheeks, smattering of freckles and a mouthful of metal. Olivia was the tallest with golden blond hair and sapphire eyes. She was serious and smart and undoubtedly the pretty one, even at eleven. Hailey was the quirky one. She was always so cute in her own goofy way. Her hair was a whiter blond than Olivia’s and her eyes a much lighter blue. She had been silly and fun, always the one to make us laugh. Like me, she was shorter than most of the other girls in our grade.

I hadn’t called them since moving back. I had meant to but the last few weeks had just slipped away, as time often does. These girls were strangers to me now. I didn’t know how to talk to them. I was unsure of what to say. The school year would be starting next week. I didn’t feel like answering anyone’s questions any sooner than I had to. Besides, despite the hurried and unexpected move back to the town I’d spent my first eleven years in, I was enjoying my time alone with Remy. It was peaceful and relaxing to not have to look out for anyone but myself for a change.

My headache was subsiding so I decided to get started on dinner. As far as I was concerned, Remy’s eating was all messed up. She’d eat left over enchiladas when she got home around seven thirty in the morning but was hungry for breakfast when she got up around my dinner time, a side-effect of having no seniority and being stuck on the nightshift at the hospital.

I pulled out a loaf of French bread and the other ingredients needed to prepare some blueberry stuffed French toast.

Remy had come to get me at a moment’s notice, signing the papers to be my legal guardian as soon as they were written up. Best of all, she seemed genuinely happy to have me living with her. But I still felt I owed her a lot and I was more than willing to do my share to help her out. She was only twenty-four and taking in her teenage sister had to be a burden, even if she would never admit it. At the very least, I was wrinkling up her neatly ordered life a bit.

She was trying to take her new role as my guardian seriously. She hadn’t had her boyfriend, Jeff, spend the night once since my arrival. Granted, she worked the nightshift five nights a week but that still left some nights free. I was pretty sure this was a new development because while putting away her laundry I discovered he had his own dresser drawer. Yet, I’d only ever met him over a handful of dinners. I was hoping that would change soon, for her sake. I didn’t want to cause problems or change her life too drastically. I was happy just to have some sister time and a safe place to stay.

As I pulled out a mixing bowl I noticed the book on the counter. I pulled out the makeshift bookmark and held the place with my finger. The receipt was from Speedy Joe’s. It was a gas station close to the park. I had passed it on my bike ride. He had purchased two deli sandwiches, a small bag of Doritos, a Snickers
and
Butterfinger, a bottle of lemon flavored iced tea and a bottle of water. The date was from two days ago. All it told me was that the boy could eat. Not exactly compelling information and utterly useless in solving the mystery of who he was.

The book, on the other hand, I hoped was the key. It was a library book and therefore it had to be checked out. By him. I was feeling stiff and sore and venturing out of the house right then held no appeal. I would do it in the morning.

I pictured his face again. He knew my last name. I must have known him at one time. Realizing this only made me want to find out who he was even more.  I wondered if he had been intentionally distant or if I had just left him flustered by our unfortunate meeting. I supposed it had to be a bit unsettling to see someone hit by a car and then practically peeling them off the road only to find out it was someone you knew from years ago.

It had been six years since Mom packed us up and made me move for the first time. It was only months after the accident. The first accident. The one that changed our lives forever.

Caught in a Jam by Lila Felix

**Excerpt**

Caught In a Jam

Nixon Montgomery Black

Three years later

She only wore pink on Sundays.

             
I swear, if it weren’t for coffee and Aunt Sylvia’s food, I wouldn’t survive.  I actually had two coffee pots.  One for home with the largest capacity carafe I could find.  And another at work which I bought myself since they didn’t provide coffee.  Seriously, what kind of construction site doesn’t have coffee?  I woke up to it, I used it as a crutch during the day, and as soon as we got home every night I’d push the flashing red button and listen for the drip. 

             
Tonight was especially exhausting.  I worked a ten hour shift and then went to derby practice for an hour.  Yes, even zebras go to practices sometimes just to keep their skills in check.  But after lifting and walking all day it wasn’t my first pick of activities.  We ate dinner, thanks to Sylvia I didn’t have to cook, and went through our nightly routine.

             
Now here I sat on living room couch alone while she slept.  I was supposed to finish a slide show for my Econ class but the longer I sat here, the more it didn’t get done.  I sat back into the cushions and closed my eyes as the last sip of coffee ran down my throat.  And like they did every night, my thoughts drifted to Journey.

             
I’d heard things through the proverbial vine, some I treasured and some I despised.  I despised hearing that she’d married Justin after finishing school.  But she’d given up on her dream of being a nurse in favor of the title of Mrs. Conrad; never even stepping foot in a hospital.  But then again, I’d also heard she had quit school to become a stripper and Justin had moved on.  Who knew what the real truth was?  I’d only heard one that I really believed.  That she’d decided to start some rebellion against an administrator at Duke University—now that sounded like her.

             
I got up and made another cup, stirring in way too much creamer, so much that my coffee was now cold.  I peeked into the bedroom and she was sound asleep. When I closed the bedroom door it squeaked and she rolled over but remained dormant.  It was a shame to feel this way.  I felt guilty every night when I sat here alone and completely reveled in just the state of being alone with my thoughts of Journey.  But I needed it and felt the withdrawals if I shied away.

             
I sat back on the couch and let the heels of my palms dig into my eye sockets, shutting out the light so I could focus on her.  It was getting more and more difficult to remember what she looked like or how she smelled.  But I remembered the little things.  I remembered she called all Coke products Coke and didn’t get how some people called it Soda or Pop.  She always took out one strand of hair and wrapped it around her hairband proclaiming it made her ponytail look good.  She constantly stole my boxers to sleep in, even though she had a slew of boyfriends to steal from.  She had a triangle of freckles on her right earlobe.  I could tell the difference between her ‘pissed off’ whine and her ‘feelings hurt’ sob from oceans away. 

             
I heard footsteps from the girl in my life as she entered the room but I wasn’t ready to let go of Journey just yet and rejoin reality.  Her hands, soft and warm pulled mine from my face.  I could smell the shampoo that Reed insisted I buy for her.  At the time I had no clue what girls liked.  I’d had to learn quickly.

             
She huffed out a tired but annoyed sigh at me and I opened my eyes to see red curls and freckles everywhere.  She literally was covered scalp to feet in clusters of light brown freckles and I’d seen every inch of her.  She wiped away tears I didn’t know were there and then wiped her fingers on my pajama pants.  Before me was the most beautiful creature I’d ever laid eyes on. 

             
She finally knew she had my attention and I knew by the smirk on her face it would be good, whatever came out of her sweet mouth.

             
“What is it button? It’s late.” I asked her, rewiping my face.

             
She batted her big eyelashes at me and put her tiny hands on her hips.  “Daddy, I think I need a bunny wabbit.  Parker said he has a bunny wabbit.  I need one too.”