The Weird Travels of Aimee Schmidt: The Curse of the Gifted (10 page)

After one more fast glance at the bright blue sweater against her pale skin, Aimee decided she had to buy it. It was perfect for tonight. “Thanks, I think I will.” She had plenty of money in her checking account. She rarely splurged on clothes, but her mood at the moment turned generous. She gently laid the sweater in her shopping basket and moved on.

Next she wandered over to the jewelry counter and spotted a pair of silver dangles in the display case. A young girl with curly carrot red hair came up to help. Aimee thought she remembered her from school so she forced a smile acknowledging the girl's cheerful greeting. Still feeling charitable with the ample amount in her account, Aimee added the earrings to the basket. That was enough shopping for her outfit. She figured she better leave a few things for Chelsea to pick out so Aimee headed over to the food department.

The rest of the shopping was completed within fifteen minutes. Aimee still had plenty of time to dawdle when she got home. After arriving, she put the food in the frig, then grabbed a basket of dirty clothes from Dad’s bathroom. Tomorrow would be busy so she wanted to get a head start on the wash. She stuffed the washing machine with dirty jeans, socks, and underwear, then looked at the clock. Four twenty-five. She and Dylan were going out to eat, but Aimee could at least get Dad’s dinner started. That would surely kill another hour, maybe, if she took her time. Even at that, Aimee would still have another thirty minutes to get a shower and wash her hair. Chelsea had given strict orders to only towel dry it, no hair dryer allowed. Her thick, straight hair reached the middle of her back. It would take the entire night for it to dry without blow drying, but she didn’t dare disobey Chels.

She pulled a couple of chicken breasts from the package in the frig and plopped them in a pan with some olive oil, garlic, and spices. While Aimee browned the meat, Zonker came into the kitchen with his nose switching madly to suck in the delicious aroma. He laid patiently at the threshold watching Aimee prepare the meal, waiting for her to drop a treat. She flipped on the radio to give her some background noise while she chopped vegetables for a tossed salad. After prepping Dad’s salad, Aimee washed and stuck a potato in foil and put it in the oven, then drained the sizzling grease from the meat and stuck it in a small pan next to the potato. She set the timer and flicked off the light before heading to the bathroom.

When Aimee stepped out of the shower, she heard voices in the kitchen. Her dad was chatting with Chelsea. Aimee could only hear a few words now and then, mixed with a sprinkle of laughter, but she could tell Dad was in a good mood. She stopped for a few seconds to listen. It felt relaxing to hear their laughter. Normal. Something that had been missing in their house since James moved out. She wrapped a towel tightly around her body, and then opened the door. Her dad caught her glance. His face hadn’t changed since this morning. It still had a radiant glow. At the moment it matched Aimee's.

“Hey, Aimee,” Dad shouted from the kitchen, “I got the McCoy job!”

“That’s cool, Dad.” Dad’s income was modest, and a new contract early in the year boosted his spirits.

Chelsea sauntered past the two of them and winked at Aimee. “Mr. S, maybe you can take us to some fancy restaurant to celebrate.”

“Sure, Chelsea, I’ll treat you two, but then it’s my turn and you two get to pay.”

“No deal, Mr. S. I know how you like to eat. Come on, Aimee.” Chelsea grabbed Aimee's hand and pulled her along. “Time to get you ready for Prince Charming.” They quickly disappeared into Aimee's room.

“Chels…,” Aimee began while she pulled out her shopping spree treasures. Before she could finish Chels yanked the sweater from her hands and held it up to inspect Aimee's lavish prize. Chelsea was a good-hearted spirit, and Aimee's best friend, but a bit foppish. Aimee waited impatiently for the personal critique.

“Aimee, I
LOVE
it! I can’t believe you actually bought something without
my help that is totally cute, and the color…the color will make your gorgeous blue eyes pop. This will
look
sooo
freakin’ awesome on you.” Chelsea held it up to Aimee and nodded in approval. Aimee took
it from her and laid it gently on the bed, then pulled the dangles from the bag.

“Thanks, Chels. Maybe I’m learning something from you after all.”

She handed Chels the earrings. Chels dangled them next to her lobes and looked in the mirror. “Yep, perfect. Yeah, I think I’m finally rubbing off on you.” She placed the earrings on the desk, then unzipped the duffel bag she had set on the chair. She pulled out a pair of black, skinny jeans.

“Chelsea, I’m not sure I can squeeze all of me into those,” Aimee said warily. She pulled the pants tightly across her body. She was slender, but not as tiny as Chels who was at least three inches taller and built like a lingerie model.

“Oh yeah, you will. Trust me.” Chelsea was too busy digging through Aimee's underwear drawer to notice Aimee checking the skimpy pants in the mirror with doubt plastered on her face. “Okay, that sweater needs a tad bit of help. You still have your sexy lingerie we bought on our shopping trip to Portland last summer, don’t you?” Chels finally glanced up and spotted Aimee's grimace at her delving through the underwear.

“Here, Chels, let me get them.” Aimee pushed Chels gently to the side and reached in and instantly pulled her only set of fancy lingerie from the back of the drawer where it had been hidden since Chels bought it last summer. Chelsea insisted on one of her many forced shopping trips with Aimee that Aimee had to have a some sexy undies with a matching push up bra. Aimee was too cheap to spend that kind of money on something no one would see so Chels pulled out her credit card ignoring Aimee's protest.

Chels ordered, “Put them on.”

Immediately Aimee dropped the damp towel from her body and slid on the black, lacy bikini panties. Then she put on the matching bra and stood in front of the full length mirror. Her mouth dropped open. Her plain, pale frame looked shapely. Sexy. Aimee felt heat rushing into her cheeks when she noticed Chels standing behind her watching Aimee admire her new image in the mirror.

“Yep,” Chelsea said tilting her head to the side, “he won’t have a chance when I’m through with you.”

Next Chelsea tackled Aimee's hair. She sprayed all kinds of goop into it then scrunched it before hitting the wavy strands with a searing blast from the dryer to finish off her work of art. Before allowing Aimee to observe the finished product, Chels pulled out her bag of makeup. They compromised. Aimee agreed to let Chels paint her face, and Chels agreed to leave her as natural as possible. A tad off key, Chels sang while she painted Aimee's eyelids with various shades of brown shadow. A bit of mascara, a smidgeon of lip gloss, and Chels finally finished.

After a tug-a-war getting the skinny jeans up and zipped, and carefully easing into her new sweater so Aimee wouldn’t mess up her hair or smear her eyes, Chels pulled one last article out of
her fashion arsenal; a pair of sleek, black leather shoes
- Patrick Winston
boots. The name didn’t mean
anything to Aimee, but she could tell by the way Chelsea said it with extra emphasis on the name, they were designer…and expensive. Knowing her best friend, Aimee figured Chelsea had dropped a couple of Benjamins, at least, for them.

“Chels, I can’t wear these.”

“Aimee, these are the perfect shoes for your outfit. Don’t argue. You
have
to wear them be
cause I said so.”Aimee tried to hide the frown on her face. Chelsea knew she would give in to whatever she wanted. Aimee turned the boots sideways and examined the three inch pointy heels. Another challenge. So she didn’t need to walk, or breathe, tonight.

“Okay,” Aimee reluctantly agreed. She delicately slid them over the jeans. “Can I take a peek now?”

“Nope, just a sec.” Chels quickly added the final touch, the silver earrings, and fussed with a couple wild strands of hair. “There, now you can peek.”

Aimee turned around to look in the mirror. She drew in a deep breath unable to exhale. It was a miracle; Chelsea’s miracle. Tears welled up in the corners of Aimee's eyes.

Chels handed Aimee a tissue.
“None of that, silly. Don’t you
dare
mess up all of
my hard work.”

“Chelsea, I know you don’t take this much time for yourself when you have a date. I must be a freakin’ wreck.”

“I told you, Aimee, you are amazing, when you want to be. A few lessons from me and you’ll be hotter than any of those rich bitches in Beverly Hills.” Chelsea continued spitting out dating hints while she was repacking, then swung her bag over her shoulder and looked at Aimee. “I need to get out of here before he comes. Aimee, trust me, you’ll totally blow him away. Just be yourself, and have a great time. Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow after Dad and I get back from our flight.”

“No way! I want you to call me after Dylan leaves. Courtney is coming over to hang out so we’ll still be up.”

“All right, I promise.” Chels hugged Aimee so lightly like she might break, then grabbed her keys to leave.

“Bye, Mr. S,” she said when she passed the den.

“Bye, Chelsea, see you tomorrow, I’m sure.”

Aimee looked at the hall clock. Seven forty-five. Fifteen minutes to spare. She heard her dad's footsteps behind her and she twirled around.

“Geeeez,” he whistled through his teeth. “My God, Aimee, you’re so beautiful! You look so much like…” The words abruptly stuck in his throat before he finished. Aimee knew he was about to say she looked like her mother.

“I know, Dad. I love you, too,” Aimee said softly, then she kissed his forehead. “Dylan will be here in a couple minutes. I’ll be in my room finishing, so will you let him in and introduce yourself? Please don’t be your usual obnoxious self and scare him off before I get to see him.”

A couple minutes later she heard the doorbell ring, then Z’s yapping commenced. Dylan was early. A good sign. Her heart instantly started to speed up when she heard his smooth voice. He was introducing himself to Dad. Perfect manners. Dad would be impressed. She heard her dad’s in
structions to call him Mike, not Mr. Schmidt. Aimee guessed Mr. Schmidt was too formal and
old
sounding. She strained to hear their conversation, but she could only pick out a word or two. The tone seemed jovial and friendly. A good start. Aimee heard her dad chuckle, and then she jumped because someone rapped softly on the door. She quickly dabbed a final touch on her throat; some expensive cologne Aunt Lauren had bought her the last time she visited Oregon. Aimee only used it for special occasions. She opened the door and there he stood; a Greek god in the flesh. Everything about him made him look immortal; his amazing smile, his brown silky hair, now grown out since football season was over, his very toned body, which despite his bulky wool sweater was well defined, and his eyes, especially his dreamy, chocolate brown eyes. She could have stood right there and gawked at him all night.

“Hi, come on in. I’m almost ready,” Aimee finally said. Dylan slowly entered. “I see you found us.” His eyes were ravenous. He reached in and gave Aimee a gentle hug. It lingered longer than just a friendly gesture should, but she didn’t mind.

“Yep, your yellow Bug made it easy to find.” His eyes continued devouring her.
“Wow, Aimee, you look…
great
!”

“Thanks.” She felt her face blush. He kept his eyes locked on Aimee. She was too new at dating to know what she should do next, so she took a deep breath and repeated Chelsea’s tips
to herself…
Just relax, Aimee, be yourself…
. “Let me get my purse and we can go.”
Dylan was now behind her studying the photos on the bookcase. He picked up the one of her parents on the beach.

“This your dad?”

“Yeah, about a hundred years ago when he had a bit more hair.”

“Wow, a surfer. That’s cool. Does he still surf?”

“Yes, but we only make it to the coast a couple times a year.”

“We?”

“I surf with him. He won’t admit he’s getting older and I worry about him going by himself. Besides, I enjoy catching waves. Hey, why don’t you come with us on our next trip?” Aimee asked as she took the picture and set it back on the bookcase.

“Yeah, I would like that. I snowboard some, but I’ve never surfed.” He continued looking at the photo. “Who is the woman with your dad?”

“Uh, my mom.” Suddenly, Aimee wanted to change the subject.

“I thought so. She’s beautiful. You look just like her.” Aimee turned to find Dylan's eyes locked on her. After a few seconds his eyes moved back to the photo. “I didn’t get to meet her when I came in. Is she here?” He looked up and caught Aimee's guarded expression.

“She’s, uh…she’s dead.” Aimee poignantly rolled the words off her tongue, painstakingly attempting to hide any ugly emotion in her voice.

His eyes filled with unanticipated concern.“I’m sorry. I...uh...I didn’t know,” he said.

“That’s all right. She died a long time ago.”

He quickly picked up the photo of James and Sacha. The conversation was starting out awkward, and he was searching for a different direction to turn it.

“Hey, I know James,” he commented cheerfully. “Is this your brother?”

“Yep, James is my one and only sibling.” Aimee wasn’t surprised he knew James. Everyone at East Medford knew James when he was there. Like Dylan, he was popular and well liked. Even though James played Varsity basketball, not football, in a school of only a thousand it was highly likely their paths crossed in athletics.

Dylan appeared to be enjoying himself. His questions were not just casual date talk. He was truly interested in learning more about Aimee. The butterflies in her stomach were fluttering so she decided she could relax if they got the date going.