Turtle Bay (2 page)

"Rainbow, help us move these boxes inside before it starts to rain," Butch said, walking past me with his arms loaded.

"Just Rain," I corrected.

"Just Rain," he repeated, smirking at me.

"Grrrrr, Rain. Would you like me to call you by your given name?" I threatened. "Creston Leroy."

"Bite your tongue," he said, looking around horrified that someone might have heard.

"Rain," I prompted.

"Rain-n-n," he said, dragging out my chosen nickname. "Help Buttercup, please."

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" I asked.

"It's like asking a dog not to scratch its fleas. We instinctively itch to call you Rainbow Love—" He cut off as I glared at him.

"Can we discuss this later?" Buttercup asked, scurrying past with a couple of duffle bags as she indicated the ominous gray clouds that had rolled in. As if to prove her point, a low rumble of thunder shook the ground, letting us know a storm was coming. Kicking it into high gear, the three of us made frantic trips to move everything from the van to the covered walkway that separated the garage from the house. Butch was sliding the stubborn van door closed when the first large raindrop plopped down on my face. We stood under cover, watching as the sky opened up like a god was dumping buckets of water on the world. The ground quickly became saturated and the downpour flowed along the barely noticeable slope in the driveway and pooled at the bottom near the street. After ten minutes, the rain abruptly stopped like someone had turned off a faucet, leaving the air heavy and sticky. We became drenched in sweat as we carried our junk into the house, but at least there was a nice breeze from the ocean. I had to admit, it still beat the brutally hot, dry summers back in Kansas.

Loaded down with duffel bags, I walked into the house and couldn't help giggling at Butch and Buttercup, who stood gawking at the furnishings in our new home. Gone were the handpicked garage sale treasures from our old house that held little more than garbage heap appeal. It would seem my grandparents had a taste for floral prints. It was as if a flower shop had barfed on every piece of furniture in the house. Even the heavy drapes that blocked out the sun were covered in roses the size of dinner plates.

"Well, you guys always said you wished you could live among the wildflowers," I piped in, trying to keep a straight face.

"Yeah, wildflowers, not some freaky tea room from hell." Butch shuddered as he noticed the large vase in the corner of the room that was filled with artificial flowers. Judging by the ample amount of dust covering them, my guess was they were older than me.

"Don't worry, babe. We'll fix it. A few throw blankets, new curtains from Goodwill, and a few dozen trash bags for the stuff we don't want and it'll look like home before you know it," Buttercup reassured him as I began to get a lay of the land. Leaving the living room through a hallway, I discovered a master bedroom with the most hideous wallpaper I had ever seen. Butch was sure to have a seizure when he saw it. Moving on, I found the second bedroom that was supposed to be for me. Thankfully, it wasn't half bad. Somehow, it had escaped the floral print disease and had pale blue walls and light, breezy curtains instead. It must have served as an office/guest room since it held a desk with a dated PC on one side and a white daybed covered with a patchwork quilt on the other side. It was kind of charming, but wasn't for me. I had other plans.

"I wouldn't go in there," I told Butch as he started to open the master bedroom door.

"How bad?" he asked.

"Like the movie
The Exorcist
, but with flowers," I answered.

"Serious?" he replied, backing away from the door like there was a venomous snake inside. "You can have this room," he said generously, trying to steer me toward the horror beyond the door.

"No way. That's all you," I said, putting on my game face. "You guys said I would get first pick of the rooms to make up for the bee incident," I reminded him, setting my trap.

"I'd gladly take your old beehive room if it's as bad as you say in here," he said, jerking his head toward the door he had yet to open. "Come on, where's the love for Dad? You can't make me sleep in a room that will give me nightmares even while I'm awake."

"Hmmm, I don't know. A deal is a deal. After all, I was pretty traumatized to wake up to a room full of bees since you decided having a hive in my wall wasn't a big deal. I mean, I did get stung a few times, if you remember."

"You're right. In hindsight, maybe allowing a hive of bees to remain in the wall of my daughter's room wasn't the best idea, but I'm a lover of all creatures, bees included. Please switch. I'll do anything."

"Anything?" I asked, having him right where I wanted him.

"Anything," he emphasized, edging closer to the good room.

"Fine, I want the garage."

He paused, looking confused. "The garage? For what?"

"For my room. I took a peek through the window when we got here and except for a few boxes and a good sweeping, it's perfect. It's got enough windows for ventilation and I even spotted a gardening sink in there, which means it has plumbing. Plumbing means my handy-dandy parental figure could install a toilet and a few walls for privacy."

"You want to sleep in the garage?" he asked, pondering my unusual request. While they certainly had their faults as parents, one of the best things about Butch and Buttercup was their willingness to listen to my ideas, and in spite of all the trouble I'd gotten into the past few years, they pretty much gave me free reign to make my own decisions. Butch scratched his head and stared into space as he hemmed and hawed for an answer. "Enclosing a bathroom isn't exactly cheap."

"We have the money now," I pointed out. For years we lived in an eight hundred-square-foot shack, working one craft fair to the next to supplement the meager income we made from selling our vegetable harvest off the highway. We lived off the land, buying only the necessities when they were warranted. No matter how much I begged and pleaded. New clothes, makeup, or anything else a teenage girl might want fell into the "not a necessity" category. Butch and Buttercup's necessity rule was the bane of my existence during my formative preteen years, but by the time I started high school, I learned to manipulate their system, especially if they thought whatever I wanted was for my education. That's how I got my used laptop when I convinced them I needed it for school, which wasn't exactly a lie. My insight into their weakness was also how I got my first
new
pair of shoes. It wasn't like I was taking advantage of my own parents. The new shoes really did help. Otherwise, I'd be running laps in some worn-out pair of sneakers from Goodwill that may have been a size too big. Even with my slight manipulation here and there, we lived simply, but the inheritance from my grandparents and the job I planned to get would change that. We could now pay for things without waiting to see how the tomato harvest turned out or if all the pumpkins in our patch made it to Halloween.

"We've got that money earmarked," Butch said, shaking his head.

"For what?"

"For you and your future college education."

"Oh, well, I appreciate that, but you're assuming a college will let a troublemaker like me in." I was only teasing, even though my stomach twisted up inside. When I decided to deflect everyone's focus off Butch and Buttercup, I didn't give much thought to how it could potentially hurt me. I guess I assumed my mostly harmless pranks would be dismissed as juvenile antics, but after getting kicked out of Huntsville High, I felt a true sense of fear. For years, I had expected college to be my ticket to something and somewhere better—my shot at a normal life. Without a high school diploma or even worse, having a record, the only future I had would be glum at best. That's why after I settled down over the news about the move, I vowed that Turtle Bay would be different. No more trouble for me. My weirdo parental figures would be their own problem from now on.

"That money should be for you and Buttercup," I insisted. "It's not like we're sitting on an acre of land here to plant tomatoes on, so you're going to need to supplement that cash."

"Au contraire, Worry Bear, we no longer have to pay rent. We'll also save on gas since we don't have to commute so far. We're actually saving money as long as you keep your nose clean," he said, not so subtly reminding me what my last prank had cost us.

"Yeah, but you have no idea if your jewelry will sell as good down here," I pointed out as the voice of reason.

"Oh ye of little faith. I'm sure Floridians will appreciate our craftsmanship as much as they did back home," he said, sounding wounded.

I patted his arm to reassure him. "I'm sure you're right. Now, about the garage…"

"Fine," he sighed. "Let's go check it out, but if you get all scaredy pants and want to move back in, you get the nightmare garden," he said, heading down the hall.

"Fair enough," I agreed, dancing out the door behind him.

Butch unlocked the narrow door on the side of the garage using the spare ring of keys we received from the lawyer. A stifling whiff of closed-up warm air greeted us as we stepped into the dusty lair. The concrete floor had been glazed and cobwebs were scattered throughout the rafters, but I didn't mind. A few area rugs would soften up the floors and a broom would remove the cobwebs and unwanted creepy-crawlies. In my mind, this was already my room.

"Looks like there might be some space in the rafters to store boxes," Butch said, walking around the space and checking it out for possibilities. "Feel how hot it is? It's only going to be worse during the summer," he pointed out.

"I'll get a fan," I countered.

"Might work," he said, prying one of the windows open. "With the ocean breeze and all the windows open, it might not be too bad."

"And you can add a bathroom there," I added, pointing at the sink in the far corner of the space.

"It's doable. Couple of walls and a door," he said, looking at the piping under the sink. "Might have to hire out for the toilet though."

"Is that a yes?" I asked, kissing his cheek impulsively.

"Let's see what Buttercup thinks."

I smiled, knowing I had a victory. Buttercup was all about finding your joy. She was torn up after I had so passionately opposed the move. Not having harmony in our house was enough to send her in a candle-and-incense-burning frenzy for days until she was satisfied our aura was cleansed. I knew she was hopeful that Turtle Bay would grow on me. Once she found out living in the garage would make me happy, she would quickly approve. Buttercup didn't disappoint, and within hours we had switched around the furniture to our liking. The daybed, desk, and dresser from the guest room were moved to my new room in the garage, and the queen-sized bed and its matching counterparts were moved out of the nightmare garden and into the guest room. The scary room was closed up with all our extra junk. Buttercup planned on turning it into a workspace for their jewelry and beading, but Butch told her she would have to do something with the creepy wallpaper first.

The sun was beginning to set in the horizon, so I slid my feet into my flip-flops and hurried down our short street and across the main road that separated us from the beach. The sight of the wide expansion of water with soft churning waves nearly took my breath away. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined it to be more beautiful than any pictures I had seen. I slid off my shoes and stepped onto the soft sand for the first time in my life. My feet sank until my toes were covered. I wiggled them around, feeling the grains between each toe. The feel was new and intoxicating. Everything about my surroundings was new. New state, new room, new life. With any luck I'd survive this move after all. Maybe Buttercup was right. This was my opportunity to turn over a new leaf. No more trouble. I could start over here.

Chapter 2

Bright sunlight streaming through my windows woke me the next morning. I sat up, stretching, and flipped my legs off the bed to step on the concrete floor when I felt something move under my foot. Belting out a few choices words, I jerked my foot up so abruptly I tumbled backward on my bed. I peered cautiously over the side of my bed just in time to see the largest, ugliest, and most likely deadliest beetle I had ever seen scurry across the floor. Oh, holy hell no. Like my parents, I was a lover of most living creatures, with one exception—bugs. Something about them gave me the major willies. Having a beetle in my room the size of our van was a no-go.

Contemplating my options, I warily moved from my bed, keeping an eye out for any other multi-legged critters that planned to murder me in my sleep. I tiptoed ninja style toward the door, feeling the less of my feet that touched the floor, the better. To make matters worse, I had to pee. Like, bad. Making it to the door, I did a small victory karate chop even though I knew nothing about karate, so it could have looked like I was having a seizure. Before my celebration could continue, the beetle scurried out from under the desk and across the floor toward me, making me squeal as I fumbled with the knob to open the door. My squeal neglected to suspend the beetle's forward progress as it homed in on me like a dog that had been offered a bone. Racing from the space I'd previously considered my new sanctuary, I barreled through the side door of the house that opened up into the kitchen.