Independence (38 page)

"Mmhmm. And your arms, too. It keeps your muscles from completely forgetting what they're supposed to do." He smiled.

I wanted to smile back at him, but feared that I didn't know how with this face. Plus, my body was exhausted just from this little interaction. He must have seen that, too, because he turned to the tall man who had yelled at him before. "She needs her rest."

"I know that," he said indignantly. "However, the news crew will be here later on." He turned a bright smile on the woman that was supposed to be my mother. "She'll do an interview with them and tell everyone all about her ordeal. I'm sure you could even get a deal on a big story to the-"

My father spoke up, putting a protective hand on my foot. "You set up an interview with the press the day she wakes up…and don't even get our permission first?"

They all kept talking around me. Mason started defending me along with my parents. The man apologized half heartedly and I assumed he was the head doctor or some hospital head from the way he was acting.

My mind buzzed and cleared in intervals. I lost all track of time and eventually just turned to let my cheek press against the grainy pillow. My throat hurt from the tubes that had been keeping me alive.

Only to wake up to a reality that was more fiction than non.

My eyes still knew how to cry though and I tried to keep myself quiet as I let the tears fall. I thought I'd definitely earned them. Eventually the room quieted and the lights were turned off, all but the small lamp beside my bed. The phone on my bedside stand had a small list of numbers, for emergencies I assumed, but the name on the top of the card was what caught my eye. 'Regal City Hospice'.

Mason had been right. I wasn't even in a real hospital. They hadn't intended for me to wake up.

I wondered if that fact had put a kink in someone's plans.

You can find more information on Shelly and this book at her website

http://shellycrane.blogspot.com/

Coming January 2013

Lila Felix

Author of Emerge, Perchance & Love and Skate

Corinne

“I’m very sorry Corinne but we are going to need your key, your school I.D. and your parking pass.”

I looked at Head Mistress Ingrams and tried to translate exactly what she was getting at. I had carried that exact key around this school since I was six years old. And that parking pass hung from my rearview mirror since I was sixteen. And my school I.D. swung by a lanyard that rubbed and chafed my neck on a daily basis. But to give those things up?

As much as most people hated being at a prep school, especially since it was a boarding school, I loved it. I could be who I wanted to be as long as I obeyed the rules. And I always thought of some creative ways to keep within the bounds of obedience.

“I’m—I’m sorry?” I choked out with furrowed brows.

“You do not attend Wellsley Preparatory Academy any longer. Your parents
came in and signed the forms
three weeks ago. Please do not act daft.” She made a triangle with her fist planted on her hip and acted like I was a waste of her time.

“I’m sorry ma’am, they failed to inform me. Here,” I handed her the three objects of her desire and took my time letting them go.

“Thank you Ms. Novak.” She thanked me and clip clopped in her sky high heels down the marbled hall to terrorize someone else.

I turned around and took hold of my rolling suitcase and stomped to the parking lot infuriated and hurt. But mostly, I was confused.

I drove down the highway with the top down in my convertible Mustang. As I made my way from Monroe to my home in the small town of Sibley I thought maybe the whole thing was a massive error. The longest I had ever spent away from Wells, that’s what we called it, was three months in the summer. But Dad and Mom always made sure that I had summer camp to attend or, of late, an internship to keep me busy. During the summer I only used our home as a place to sleep and that’s the way we all liked it.

I pulled into the brick paved driveway of the massive mansion with its manicured lawn and glistening windows and instead of gardeners and groundskeepers, I saw men who wore blue coveralls with the logo ‘Smooth Movers’ on their backs.

What, are they a moving company or constipation experts?

My father stood directing people towards the van waggling his finger at them, presumably telling them ‘be careful’ or ‘that’s fragile’. All three garage doors were open and in place of my parents’ Mercedes stood a late model truck and in the next garage, a later model sedan.

What the hell is going on around here?

I parked out of the way of the movers and got out to find some answers. My questions about school had been put on the back burner and simmering on the front was now a pot full of ‘Why are we moving?’

I approached my dad who refused to make eye contact with me and before I could open my mouth he pointed towards the house and turned to reprimand a mover who hefted a box marked ‘CHINA’. I walked into the open door and saw my mom sitting in a lonely chair with a blank stare marring her face.

“Mom?” She didn’t even twitch. “Mom!” I repeated with a little more force.

She sat up and turned to me like I had woken her from a coma.

“Hello Corinne. Your things have been packed. We are moving to a smaller house to downsize a bit. With this economy, it was bound to happen. And your school was costing us forty thousand dollars a year. You will be fine in public school, just fine.”

In all my life I had never accustomed myself to the way my mother spouted out pre-practiced speeches and computerized responses to any question I ever asked. Stepford wives had nothing on my mother. They watched videos of her to up their game.

“Ok, Mom, anything else?” I asked sarcastically not expecting a response.

“Yes,” she finally looked me dead in the eye. “We have to sell your car. It’s just not practical for a teenager to drive a sports car.” I rolled my eyes at the automated response and went to look at the damage to my room.

I found it completely empty of furniture and as I walked through the rest of the house I found that my room wasn’t alone. There was no more furniture in the house with the exception of the slatted chair that Mom sat on.

I know I should have been devastated or depressed or something. But I wasn’t. I just didn’t care. This wasn’t really a home; it was a place where my parents lived. And I barely even drove my car since everything I needed was on campus at Wellsley. But my parents and this downsizing thing confused me. Especially since they were constantly upsizing every chance they got and showing it off to everyone who would look.

I bounced down the front stairs and re-approached my dad who stood now with his arms crossed, satisfied with the micro-management of the moving crew.

“Dad,” I asked.

“Corinne, did you speak with your mother?” He still had his eyes on the last moving van.

“Yes, I did. Where are we moving to?” I flinched back at my own question.

“We are moving to a lovely house much more suitable to our needs. You will not be returning to Wellsley Academy. I’m sure your Head Mistress informed you. You can go to the local public high school for your last year. I have also arranged for you to work during the summer, house-sitting for the Stephenson family. They will be going to their home in Florida for the summer and you can use the money to buy whatever you need for school. I put some money in your account which should cover anything you need now. I texted the address to your cell phone before you arrived.”

I absorbed his speech with suspicion. He spoke to me as if I was a pet whose basic needs were his responsibility to handle and beyond that I was on my own.

“When do I start,” I asked.

“They leave tomorrow morning. I told them you would be by at eight o’clock sharp to get instructions and information pertinent to your job. You will be living there, so there’s no need to unpack.”

I’m sure most people would take offense to their father speaking to them like an employee but it was nothing new to me. I received basic instructions and followed through. One thing that prep school makes you a pro at, obedience.

He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and handed them to me.

“The truck is yours. I will be selling your car tomorrow for another model for myself.”

“Okay. Are we sleeping at the new house tonight?”

“No, we are spending the night at the Sibley Inn tonight.” He checked his watch. “It is almost noon. If you need to get some shopping done before tomorrow, you should do that now. Your room at the hotel is under your name and paid for, so make your way there after you are finished.”

He was cold and emotionless as he spouted out orders in my direction. I would love to have parents like those the other girls had at school. Those who kissed them, hugged them, and cried when they left their daughters at school. I had always driven myself to school every year, unpacked my own trunk and settled in with no comfort from parents.

I got my bags out of my trunk and threw them in the back of my newish truck. I headed to the mall, first calling the automated bank teller to get my balance. The computer lady said my account had $314.33, which was more than plenty to buy a few pairs of shorts, tanks and swimsuits and the leftover would last me through the summer.

The mall was not really a mall but a strip mall of clothing stores and fast food. I found the few things I needed at the first store and then I went to eat at a Chinese food restaurant. After I ate, I took the opportunity to look around and see what had changed while I was gone and to just think.

I drove to the park and got out of my truck and sat on a bench under an enormous Cypress tree. On my left I watched some guys play football while girls on the sidelines leaned back while sitting on the ground soaking up the sun and cheering them on. I sat back and watched the more interesting toddlers as they climbed the spider web rope or came out of the end of the tunnel.

I got up after most of the mothers had decided they’d had enough and were long gone and walked to the parking lot to get to the hotel and rest before my first day at my summer job. I got into the truck and drove the semi-circle to get out of the park.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I pulled up in the driveway of a house that made our house, or old house, look like a storage building. It was a two story house and the stairs that connected the yard to the second story front porch were taller than my upstairs bedroom window. A man in his thirties stood in the driveway and instructed me to park my truck in the garage. I did and got out to introduce myself.

“Hello sir, I’m Corinne Novak, you must be Mr. Stephenson.”
Take that Etiquette teacher!

“Hi, Corinne. Call me Phillip. You can drive one of our cars while you are here. Let’s go meet my wife. She stayed up all night typing and printing instructions and rules for you.”

We walked into the door of the bottom floor which housed the kitchen and an enormous living room. A very frazzled woman fluttered around here and there checking lists and stuffing last minute items into suitcases.

“Angela this is Corinne. Corinne, this is my wife Angela. The kids are at my mother’s house spending the night. My parents are about ten minutes away if you ever need them and their number is somewhere…” He looked to the refrigerator for a phone number.

“Ugh—Phil, it’s all in her folder.”

“Ok, ok, ok. Let’s go already. We’re going to be late getting the kids and then we’re going to be late to the airport. Let’s go.”

She walked up to me hugging a binder to her chest as if it were her last will and testament.

“Corinne, everything you need to know is in here. Let me give you a ten minute tour and then we can go.” She directed the latter sentence towards Phil more than me.

We toured the house quickly and I was given a credit card for food and anything else I might need for the house. She pointed out this and that from the back porch and said something about a boy that was also hired to paint the house, the barn and the storage building as well as keeping the yard mowed. I was thankful that I didn’t have to deal with that.

After they left, I relaxed a bit and took in my surroundings. It was a beautiful house. The walls were filled with pictures and kids’ art projects. I got my bags out of the truck and put them in a stark white room with a four poster bed. Angela said I could sleep in the master bedroom but—well—eeeww.

I ate a bowl of cereal, crawled up on the couch and turned the TV on. I flipped through all of the channels but nothing caught my eye. So I pulled up a barstool and opened the massive set of instructions. They were basic things like no parties, keep the house clean, make sure to lock the doors every time I leave, things like that. But every rule had a long explanation about why that was a rule. I skipped the explanations. My phone beeped and alerted me to a text message.

Dad: Did you get to work on time?

Yes, I’m fine Dad. Thank you for asking.
I thought to myself.