Glimpse (2 page)

“Avery’s?” Claire shrieked.  “Yay! Now if only said party wasn’t in the church basement.  I don’t know why your parents wouldn’t take mine up on using one of the banquet rooms at the lodge. I’ve already reserved the Grand Ballroom for my super sweet sixteen and its eleven months away.”

I sighed. “Because we’ll have way less fun in a windowless wood paneled room with a concrete floor. Just another perk of being a pastor’s daughter, Claire, I get an all access pass to the church rec room.”

A wave of guilt washed over me the second I made that snarky comment. It was actually really nice of my parents to throw me a party.  Ugh.  Weirdly bitchy was taking me over today!  I pulled it back to the positive. “At least there will be boys there.”

“That’s true.” Claire paused, like she was trying to figure out how to the broach the next subject.

“Just spit it out, dude, I can sense you’re waffling.”

“I am indeed waffling, Zel. Um, have you considered what to do about the Melody factor?”

My parents insisted that Melody attend the party, I hadn’t really thought about that one way or the other.  She was my little sister, she was always there. “I haven’t.  You don’t think she’ll tattle?  Wait.  Do you think there’ll be things worth tattling about?”

Claire giggled. “You never know.”

I heard Mom round the corner into the kitchen.  I slammed the phone back into its cradle, hanging up on Claire. “Ready to go, Mom?”

She gave me a suspicious look, but then let it go. “Yup, let’s move on out to the next one.”

It was almost dinner time as we drove through downtown Rosedell.  Most of the buildings, faced with Old West facades, were dark.  The Hitching Post gas station and drug store was still open, as was Adams Insurance. Mike Adams stood by the front window of his office, a big smile on his face, and waved when we passed by.  Mom waved back, she was smiling too.

I kicked off my white scuffed flats; hand-me-down’s from Claire’s maid and put my feet up on the back of Mom’s seat. “Don’t you think it’s kinda weird that Mr. Adams is always at his office on Sunday just in time to wave to you?  I mean, I know you guys are friends and all, but shouldn’t he be at home with his family?”

“Put your feet down,” Mom reached behind her and swatted at my legs.  “I don’t know that it’s weird.  Mike works very hard and doesn’t have the most pleasant home life. I think he spends a lot of time at his office.”

“What’s so unpleasant about his home life? Avery’s a really good student and plays a bunch of sports.  His dad should be totally proud of him.” I would be proud of him if he were my kid, which is a kinda gross thing to think, but whatever.

“Oh, he is, honey.  He’s very proud of him. I don’t know why I said that.  Mike just works a lot.”  Mom turned onto our street. “Of course, no one has as great a home life as us.” She pointed to Dad and Melody as she pulled into our gravel driveway. They were engaged in the welcome home dance. Invented by my father in 2001, the welcome home dance consisted of cheesy smiles, jazz hands, hip bumps and was a Wells family tradition.

I laughed; I secretly loved the welcome home dance.  “Yeah, that never gets old.”

We got out of the minivan.  Dad frowned, seeing that we were empty handed.  “No BLT’s?  I’m starving!” He put his arms out and walked, stiff legged, towards Mom.

“Sorry, Pastor zombie. I thought you all were eating at the Wallaces?”

“We did.  It was really good.”  He rubbed his belly. “You know I can always eat though.” 

Mom put her arm around his waist.  “Yes, I know.”  She shepherded him up the steps and inside the house.   Melody followed them, looking over her shoulder, hoping no one had seen her dancing, no doubt. I went in last, thinking how nice it was to have parents that loved each other and also that Dad had better cool it because he had a nasty bout of heartburn on the horizon.

I watched Claire as she inspected her new self-inflicted haircut in the mirror stuck to the inside of her locker door.  Her chin length razor-cut black hair fanned out from her face in chunky pomaded pieces.  Very punk rock. Noticing a clump of bangs that was a quarter inch longer than the rest, she reached into her black patent leather tote bag and pulled a small pair of scissors from one of its many interior compartments.  Grasping the disobedient clump of bangs, she snipped them off straight across.

“That’s better,” she said, turning her head from side to side, scrutinizing her handiwork.

“Talking to your reflection again?”  I poked my head around her locker door, grabbing the magnetic mirror and holding it before my own face in mock-adoration.  “Hello, beautiful!”

Claire swiped the mirror back, a grin spreading across her crimson glossed lips.  “Whatever, Zellie!  You know I look good!”

I spun the dial on my combination lock. “Your hair does look good.  I wish I was brave enough to do something different to mine.”  I yanked down on the lock and opened my locker, retrieving my humongo pile of Honors English books.

“You know I would kill you if you cut your hair, it’s one of your only assets,” Claire joked, replacing the mirror on her locker door and slamming it shut.

“Thanks!”  I linked arms with her and bumped her into the lockers with my hip, causing her tote bag to slip from her shoulder. Grace is my middle name after all. Whoops.

“Watch it now, my Amazonian friend.” Claire hoisted the gigantic bag back up onto her shoulder.  “We better haul ass or we’re going to be late.”

Mrs. Gates sat on the edge of her desk and wriggled her bifocals down to the end of her nose. She took attendance the old-fashioned way instead of passing around a sign-in sheet like all of the other teachers did. “Adams?”

Avery raised his hand.  He sat in the middle of the front row. “Here.”

I zoned out on him, like I always did, waiting for my name to be called at the end of attendance.

His hair was damp, curling every which way at the nape of his neck. I calculated. It’d been, what, two months since his last haircut? That seemed right.  His mom probably cut it at home instead of in the salon where she worked.

I scanned the rest of him, perfection as usual. The shirt he had on today looked nice against his tan skin, a blue soccer jersey from a European team. It clung to his shoulders, riding up just a bit when he bent forward to get a pen out of his backpack. Seeing that sliver of skin gave me goose bumps.  If for some crazy reason I ever got to see him with his shirt off, I was sure to hyperventilate and die right there on the spot. Yes, Jesus, I had some lust in my heart.

“Already with the staring?” Claire teased. “You know we have four other classes with him, right?”

I stuck my tongue out at her.

“Erickson?”

“Yo!” Jason said.

I tried looking at him for comparison’s sake.  He was decent.  Blonde spiky hair.  Buddy Holly glasses. Played bass in a band called…Rootie Tooty?  No. Fresh and Fruity? Maybe the whole thing?  I couldn’t remember. He was more Claire’s type. Avery’s best friend and my best friend?  That would be cool. I smiled, seeing Claire and Jason as plain as day engaged in a passionate argument about some indie rock band I had never heard of.

“Vargas?”

“Here.” Claire saluted Mrs. Gates.

“Wells?”

“Present.”

Mrs. Gates went to the blackboard and began writing.  “Since we’re nearing the ever so wonderful state sanctioned standardized tests, there are thirty extra vocabulary words this week. Apparently, none of you is to be left behind.”

At lunch Claire chose a sundae cone from the freezer case next to the cash register and paid for it. I followed behind her in line, brownbag lunch in one hand, a thermos in the other. 

We walked to our table along the back wall of the cafeteria, in closest proximity to the band and A.V. tables, but only two tables removed from where the popular kids sat.  Rosedell Junior/Senior High just wasn’t a big enough school for cliques to be completely separate from one another.

Claire peeled the wrapping from around her ice cream off in one clean motion.

I didn’t even bother looking into my lunch bag. “Do you want any of this stuff?  I don’t think I can eat another peanut butter sandwich in this lifetime.”

“Um, what’s in the Thermos?”

“Chicken noodle.”

“Nah, I’ll just stick with my sugar and fat fest, thanks though.” Claire looked over my shoulder. “Here comes your sister.”

I crumpled down the top of my lunch bag and pushed it off to the side.  Melody and three of her 7th grade friends approached our table, a whirling cloud of giggles, blonde hair, and glittery lavender nail polish.

“Hey Zel, want me to throw your lunch away too?” Melody reached out her hand, a fountain of gold bangles cascading down her arm and clinking at her wrist.

I handed the bag over. “Uh, sure.” I noticed that Melody didn’t have any lunch with her at all.  I’m pretty sure her group of “friends” didn’t eat a whole lot.  “What’d you do with your Thermos?”

Melody snorted. “Yeah, like I even leave the house with that!”  She glanced over her shoulder to her friends, all of them giggling in unison. “Is Mom trying to make us the lamest people in existence?”

This made me smile.  “Hey, Mel, it might be too late for me, but really, save yourself now while you can.”

Melody smiled back. “Duh!”  She walked away, the other girls following her, and made a big show of chucking my lunch in the trashcan as she left the cafeteria.

“The rainbow and unicorn squad has left the building,” Claire snarked.  “I don’t know how you put up with that nonsense.”

“Whatever do you mean?” I asked. I was used to it.  That’s how Mel had always been. “Don’t you know that Melody’s going to be the first popular person in our family since…well, since
my mom
!”

“You’re right, how stupid of me to even ask.”

Principal Landry came into the cafeteria and walked over to the table where Avery was sitting with Jason, a few seniors from the baseball team, and several girls on the student council and in cheerleading.

“Avery, your mom is on the phone asking to speak with you immediately. Would you come to my office please?”

A chorus of “ooh’s” and “what did you do now’s” erupted from the table.  A blush like wildfire covered Avery’s face.  He shrugged his shoulders as if to say “how do I know?” and followed principal Landry.

“What do you think that was about?” I asked. I felt really cruddy that Avery was so embarrassed.  I knew it totally sucked to have everyone staring at you.  

Claire leaned towards me and lowered her voice. “Well…I don’t know for certain, but my mom has told me about Avery’s mom getting drunk in one of the bars at the lodge a couple of times. The bartenders have had to call him to come pick her up. I guess it could be that.”

Claire’s parents owned and operated the largest ski resort in the area.  It housed a grand lodge, several fine dining restaurants, and three bars. Half the people in Rosedell worked there. She was privy to a lot of the gossip in town because of it.

“But why would she call Avery?” I asked. “He doesn’t even have his license yet.  Why wouldn’t Mr. Adams pick her up?”

“Probably because Mr. Adams is a tool.”

“Yeah, I can see that.  Huh.  That totally sucks for Avery though.” I lowered my voice too. “Y’know, Mr. Adams was at his office window again yesterday when we were driving home. He’s been there every Sunday for the past few months.”

“Ick. Do you think he’s stalking your mom or something?”

“Nah. I mean, they’re friends. She did say that he worked so much because he had an ‘unpleasant home life,’ whatever that means. Maybe she was talking about Avery’s mom?” I opened the Thermos, yup, chicken noodle, just as I suspected. I poured some soup into the lid and drank it.

“Didn’t they used to be friends too?  His mom and yours? Wish you knew what happened there.” Claire helped herself to the next cup of soup that I poured.

“Mom never wants to talk about it. All she’ll say is that Avery and I were so cute when we used to play together.  Then he went to kindergarten and she wanted to try home-schooling me—”

“Thank God that didn’t last!”

“Seriously?  It’s not bad enough that I’m a pastor’s daughter and live in a small town surrounded by mountains?”

Claire nodded. “How would I have ever survived 5th grade without you? The second we moved to Rose-hell I was ready to go back to boarding school.” She reached across the table and took my hands in hers. “Then I saw you on the playground, wearing those high-water orange corduroys and I knew that dorkiness would be our bond.”

“I loved those pants!” I said, slapping her hands away.

I chugged the rest of the soup straight from the Thermos and then screwed the lid back on. Soup dribbled down the sides.

Claire handed me a napkin. “C’mon, I gotta pee and fix my face before French.  I’ll get the lowdown on what happened from my mom tonight. See if Mrs. Adams was even at the lodge.”

Avery nodded at the bartender as he hurried over to the stage in the corner of the lounge.  His mom stood stock still in the middle, microphone in hand, belting out “Memories” from CATS. She liked to get loaded and re-live her high school theater geek days. The few other tipsy people in the place cheered her on.

He reached out a hand to her. “Mom, I’m here to pick you up.  Let’s go!”

She stopped singing and stumbled forward, bracing herself on her son’s shoulders.  “Avery!  Honey!  What are you doing here?”

“You called me to come get you.  Out of school?” He sighed, exasperated. “You called me out of school to come and pick you up.  Don’t you remember?  It was like, half an hour ago.”

She pulled away from him.  “But I’m just getting started, honey!  I’m having so much fun!  Let me do one more, please? You know my Evita is so good.”

Avery stepped up onto the stage and took the microphone from her hand.  An audience member booed him.  “No, Mom, c’mon, I gotta get back to school. I have to get Jason’s truck back to him.”

“Oh, all right,” she took a bow and then gestured toward Avery, “my son, ladies and gentlemen!”  The same guy booed again.