The Wrong Side Of The Tracks (Leighton) (7 page)

"Why did you put it in your pocket?"

"My hands were full I was carrying boxes downstairs!  I was going to give it to Grandma and then I just forgot."

Mrs. Raker stare
d at her for a long time, with her lips pursed tightly together.  Alex could tell she believed her, but she still seemed irritated.  It was like she was annoyed that she didn't have a reason to punish her.

"Now I'm kind of glad I forgot to give it to Gram,
she would have had a melt-down."

Her mother's face softened a little, "You should probably forget to tell your father about it too.  He doesn't need this kind of stress right now, in the middle of the campaign."

Then Alex realized that her irritation wasn't with her, it was with her Aunt Sandra.  It didn't take a genius to figure out the note was something that belonged to her.  She's the only other person in their family that had the initial 'A', other than Alex, and the paper was well aged.  It had turned a funky shade of yellow and the crease where it was folded was ripping.   Her mother turned around and started slamming around the dished in the sink.

Alex could hear her muttering as she shook her head, "I swear only that girl could cause drama from the
grave."

She wanted to ask her mother what she meant, but didn't dare push her luck.  It was no secret her mom wasn't Alessandra's biggest fan, this was the first time she heard her actually come out and blatantly say something negative about her.  Alex st
arted to creep out of the kitchen, after glancing at the strange note one last time.

"Take that with you and throw it in the fireplace," Mrs. Raker ordered without turning around.

She scooped up the piece of paper and headed for the den.  She knelt in front of the obnoxiously large brick fire place for a moment, contemplating whether or not to throw it into the smoldering fire.  The flames' shadows danced on her face as she re-read the note over and over.  After a few moments she folded it up and dropped it inside her purse, then grabbed the poker and rattled around the logs just in case her mother was listening.  This was the first time she had come across something form Alessandra's point of view, all the memories she heard were what people said about her, it was amazing to find something she had actually said herself.  Even though the context of the note was a little morbid and scary, she wasn't ready to part with it.

Alex thought of something and went back into the kitchen.  Her dad and grandma liked to suga
rcoat history, but her Mom would jump at the chance to throw Sandra under the bus.  If anyone was going to tell her why her Aunt Sandra was at Lost Creek it would be her mom.  Mrs. Raker was still standing at the sink rinsing off the dishes.

Alex cleared h
er throat; the only way she was going to get any truth out of her was if she was deceiving her.  She had to convince her mom that she agreed with her, and not let her know her real motives behind her questions.  If her Mom thought they were on the same page she would babble like a brook. 

"Aunt Sandra was probably
lying right; no one really choked her huh?"  She stared at the back of her Mom's head, waiting for her to reply. 

"Probably," she finally responded.

"Dad said when you guys were in school Leighton Prep and Leighton High hated each other way more than they do now," this got her Mom's attention.  She loved talking about high-school; those were the "best years of her life."  They'd be anyone's best years if they spent their whole high-school career on Homecoming Courts, Prom Courts, Cheerleading teams, and Student Council. 

"The kids from Leighton-High were just jealous of us.  They wanted our school, our football stats, our cars, our parties..."

That was her opening; she cut her mom off, "How come Aunt Sandra went to parties at Lost Creek then?  With the Leighton High kids, right?"

Mrs. Raker turned around, drying her hands on a towel. 
Davis and she had dated since their freshman year.  She knew Alessandra and was very close to the Raker family when she passed away, it was during her senior year.  Any other time she would hush Alex and tell her to mind her business or know her role, something along those lines, but she was too intrigued with how she knew that to scold her.

"Who told you that?  Your
Grandmother didn't even know that."

"I s
aw a picture of her, I recognized the creek."

"But how did you know kids from Leighton Prep weren't allowed at the creek?"

"Dad told me and Donavon in the car yesterday, because Donavon wanted to know why we couldn't go swimming there."

Mrs. Raker stared into space for a moment, giving herself plenty of time to word her answer carefully.

"Your Aunt Sandra was always...different.  She was the epitome of a rebel without a cause.  If you said 'Don't Peek', she peeked or if a sign said "Wet Paint" she had to touch it.  She just always insisted on going against the grain, you know?  As she got older her relationship with your grandfather strained and she took her rebellion to the next level.  She did everything she could to upset your grandpa.  She smoked, drank, skipped school, and the ultimate slap in his face- hung out with kids from the other side of the tracks that went to Leighton High."

"If Leighton High hated Leighton Prep so much, why did they like Aunt Sandra?"

"They didn't.  She swore they did.  She thought they were her best friends, and she even used to rub it in her dad's face and say they were her new family.  But everyone in Leighton knew she was a Raker, your father and I tried to explain to her that they were only befriending her to get back at her Dad, she wouldn't hear it though."

Alessandra and Davis's father, Charles Raker, was a well-know and loathed man back in the
day.  The rich loved him, and the poor hated him.  The working class swore he used his wealth to rig the election when he became mayor.  During his eight year reign over Leighton he did great things for the wealthier members of Leighton, like open a private school, but he did it all at the working class's expense.  There were even rumors that someone from The Boxes attempted to murder him at a ribbon cutting ceremony back when Alessandra and Davis were young children.  Alex didn't dare ever ask about that rumor though, that was ten times worse than bringing up Aunt Sandra's escapades, especially with Davis following in his father's footsteps.

Alex tried to ignore the churning in her stomach, was she as clueless as her Aunt Alessandra?  Maybe Kenzie and her friends secretly hated her and were just encouraging her to party to upset her parents, li
ke they did twenty years ago with her grandparents.  She calmed herself with the fact that her theory was too far-fetched.  No one cared about the Rakers anymore, and besides she hadn't told any of the kids from Leighton High what her last name was or where she lived, or anything else that could have lead them to believe she was the mayor's daughter.  Alex pictured how happy her aunt and the other girl looked in the picture with their arms around each other and toothy smiles.  For a fake friendship it appeared insanely real, but nothing is ever what it seems.

"If she was so bad why would you name me after her?"

Mrs. Raker sighed, "I was three months pregnant with you when she passed away.  My family wasn't supportive, so the Rakers were all I had.  When they lost her I began losing them, living with them after her death was like living with zombies.  I was young and scared; I thought naming you after her would ensure they would take care of us."  Her voice cracked a little on her last sentence. 

Alex had nev
er seen her mother appear vulnerable, or as a matter of fact show any real raw emotions.  She tried to put her arm around her in an awkward attempt to comfort her, but her Mom shook her off.

"Just go wash up for dinner Alex," she said coldly and turned her
back and busied herself with the dishes again.

FAYTE AVE

Kenzie sat with her legs crossed on the floor, painting her nails an odd cement gray color.  She fanned her wet nails and blinked her eyelashes overdramatically.  Alex snickered at her while she traced her initials in the ashtray with an old cigarette butt.  She was so relieved this strange week was over, and it was finally Friday.  Her brain felt like it was going to explode all week; she was looking forward to having a drink and clearing her mind.  She was disparately in need of some temporary memory loss. She would kill for two hours of not thinking about her Aunt Sandra getting played by the kids from Leighton High, or whether Kenzie knew she slept in Karter’s bed with him, or who tried to choke her Aunt Sandra, or if her Mom had named her something different her parents would still be together, the list was endless.

"Kenzie James! I need you
," a woman called from the living room.

"That's my Mom.  I'll be right back,"
she slipped out her bedroom door leaving it open a crack.  Alex felt awkward, she had never been in someone from school's house and not been introduced to her parents.  Her Mom was going to think she was a stuck-up bitch.

Alex s
tood in the doorway of the half open bedroom door.  A heavyset woman was lying on the couch.  Her back was towards the doorway, she couldn't see her face just a mess of curly brown hair like Kenzie's, only it was not brushed and snarly.  She lay on the couch while Kenzie nuked her some leftovers in the microwave and poured her a glass of store brand soda. 

Alexandra's phone started ringing and she fished it out of her back pocket and hit the silent button as quickly as possible.  She looked up and Kenzie and her mother had both turned and were looking
at her.  She felt guilty, as if she had just got caught watching something she wasn't supposed to. 

"U
gh, sorry. I was just coming out to get a drink."

Kenzie took another glass out of the cupboard and began pouring some soda for her, she stepped the res
t of the way out of the room and headed toward the counter.  As she got closer she realized Kenzie wasn't angry at her for peeking, she looked embarrassed and uncomfortable.  And she still didn't introduce her to her mom.  She glanced at Kenzie's mom, she looked groggy and out of it.  She kept rubbing her eyes and squinting at Alex.

"Sandra?"

Alex dropped the plastic cup and the dark soda sloshed down the cupboard door and onto the tiled floor.  She grabbed a towel off the counter and started soaking it up.  Kenzie's Mom knew Alessandra! She wasn't positive but if you took away twenty years and twenty pounds she could easily pass as the other girl in the picture at Lost Creek.  Everything Mrs. Raker said came flooding back to her. She couldn't even ask her about Alessandra because then Kenzie and Karter would figure out who her family was.

"Uhh, no Ma, this is my friend Alex."

Kenzie's Mom didn't look like she bought it; she pouted like a little kid and stared hard at Alex. 

Kenzie set her plate and glass o
n the coffee table, and grabbed Alex's arm.  "Come on, let's go back to my room," she hissed.  Alex followed obediently and willed her not to look back at her Mom.  Kenzie shut her door, and flopped against it sighing loudly.

"I'm
sorry; my mom is a mess sometimes.  She just gets really faded so she doesn't have to deal with life.  I really can't say that I blame her, if I end up going through half of what she's been through, I'll need to self-medicate too."

Alex nodded as if she understood, but she didn't
understand.  She couldn't imagine what it must be like to have no one to take care of her or to have to take care of her own parents.

"Who is Sandra?"

"Some friend of my Mom's from high-school.  I guess she died when she was sixteen, the whole story is super sad.  I've seen pictures of her; you guys really do look alike."

Alex was getting really good at
lying and deceiving people to get information. She was starting to scare herself a little.  "Let me see them!"  

"Umm okay, I'll try to find one."  She ope
ned her closet and started going through the upper shelves.  She returned to her spot on the floor next to Alex with a dusty old brown photo album.  It had those old cheap adhesive pages that you stuck photos to, and due to the years and dust none of the pages were too sticky anymore.  There were random pictures falling out left and right, mostly old Polaroids like the ones in Alessandra's box.

"Here!"

Kenzie handed her a Polaroid with a group of people at Lost Creek holding up their glasses as if they were saying “cheers”.  Alessandra was wearing the exact same outfit in the picture Alex seen at her Grandmother’s; it was obviously taken the same night.  Maybe even from the same roll of film.

"See?  That's the girl that died, and there's my Mom."  Her suspic
ions were right; Kenzie's Mom was the same girl from Alessandra's pictures. 

"I hate her hat," Alex murmured more to herself than Kenzie.