Steal it and I'll cut you. Enjoy!
A year ago today I became the perfect ghost after dying in a plane crash. Except for the body, of course; it refused to stop breathing, stop walking, pulsing, insisted on weighing me to the earth. Such liars, those vitals of mine are. The best parts of me-the most beloved parts-had made it to their enterna; peace. The rest couldn’t find that freaking bright light to save its soul.
My alarm clock screamed, shrill and hated. No mercy from that quarter, either. School waits for no teenager. I slapped the little harbinger of dawn from my desk, managing to knock the power switch to ‘off’ before it crashed to the floor.
The brain struggled to break free from the morning haze. Today was not the day to mess up the act; I needed all synapses firing.
I needed my props, too. What did a girl wear on the anniversary of her world having been ripped apart when she didn’t anyone bringing it up? Not black, nothing that even hinted at mourning, but maybe nothing too cheery, either. That might be pushing it. Jeans. Everyone wears jeans. And my green shirt. Non-descript, perfectly safe. Wrap hair into its usual knot, shove my sneaks on, and voila, one Well-adjusted Teenaged Girl costume completed.
I shouldered my bag and picked my way down the stairs. The pounds of books on my back urged me to tumble headlong to the first floor instead of walking carefully. The death-trap stairs from the bottom the hushed whispers of my aunt and uncle drifted up to meet me.
“I’m worried about her, Timothy. With everything she’s been through, and today being what it is…”
“I know, darling. It’s difficult, but we have to let her find her way on her own. It’s our job to give her a place where she feels safe enough to do that.
My chest burned with guilt. Apparently my performance wouldn’t be up for and Oscar this year.
“I can’t imagine how devastated she is. I ache for my sister, but Jocelyn? Losing a mother must be so much more painful.”
Whoa! Enough of that!
I let my bag clunk against the wall the rest of the way to the kitchen. The voices cut off like someone had flipped a switch.
Lights, camera, action!
Gracie sat in her booster seat, contemplating the strawberry swirls in her oatmeal while Aunt Catherine slid bacon onto Uncle Time’s plate. He wrote last minute notes on a legal pad for his teaching assistant.
Nothing odd here. Certainly no talk of your dead parents, no sirree Bob!
“How’re you this morning, cutie?”
Mouth stuffed with her breakfast, Gracie giggled and pointed to her lips, reminding me she wasn’t supposed to talk.
That toddler could be such a helpful little supporting actress.
“Oh, right. Miss Manners has nothing on you, kiddo,” I smiled, meaning it this time.
The bitter sting of coffee brewing called me to the pot. A none-to-subtle glance from Aunt Catherine to Uncle Tim shot over my head.
“Aunt Catherine, I’m sixteen. I don’t think you can blame coffee for stunting my growth at this point.”
Another look shared between the two and then Uncle Time cleared his throat.
“It’s not the coffee, Jocelyn. Your aunt and I are just a little…concerned, about the date. We thought we would let you stay home if you wanted to, considering.”
Houston, we have a problem…
“No that’s fine, really. I’d much rather go, you know, lose myself in the routine and everything. Besides, I don’t want to be stuck alone all day, so thanks, but no thanks.”
“Are you sure, sweetheart? I’m sure everyone would understand. The school would excuse you.”
It’s just better all around if I go, promise. It’s not like I’ll be alone. Jules’ll be there. If it makes you feel better you can ask her to call if she thinks I’m in over my head or whatever. She won’t worry about a little factoid like privacy rights or anything.”
The joke fell flat, but thank goodness for Uncle Tim. He tried to change the subject to something not so awkward.
Okay. Well…give me a call if you you’re coming by campus for lunch.”
Uncle Tim was a math professor at Mary Baldwin, the all women’s college that sat in the middle of town. Like everything else in tiny central Staunton it sat within walking distance of the high school.
“Will do.”
I took a last gulp of coffee, looked guiltily at Aunt Catherine, then downed the glass of orange juice next to my empty place in atonement before shouldering my bag again and grabbing my coat and scarf. Two seconds to say ‘bye and I’d escaped out the door, rushing down the steps to find sanctuary in the BMW parked in my drive.
My best friend sat behind the wheel, her eyes rolling at the way I’d dashed around.
“I wonder if you’ll ever acclimate to Virginia’s weather, Jocelyn. Really, it’s been months. One could thing you’re purposely fighting adaptation off,” she laughed once I’d gotten in.
“I wasn’t running because it’s cold. Apparently it’s “Treat Joss Like a Psych Patient Day” inside”-I raised a hand to ward off whatever comment might be coming-“and before you ask, no I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Then you’re well and truly obligated to love me, aren’t you, since I rescued from doing something as healthy as confronting your emotions.”
“I will love you as long as you have nice toasty beamer waiting for me in my driveway.”
“Your devotion is a thing of beauty,” she replied. “Don’t forget it’s your turn tomorrow.”
Even though Jules drove us today I did have my own wheels. After the accident the airline was so keen on preventing lawsuits they virtually dumped piles of money into the laps of passenger’s survivors. I hadn’t wanted to touch any of it but Uncle Tim insisted I needed a car and helped me pick out a new little VW.
“I’ll make a mental note. You guys leaving for Aspen right after school, or are you waiting until tomorrow morning?” I asked.
“This evening or I’d invite you to hide out at my house later.”
“Yeah. It’s probably better if I go home, let the legal guardians see I’m not on the verge of slitting my wrists or anything.”
Jules’ face crinkled up in disapproval. “You don’t give your Catherine and Tim enough credit. They care about you more than you realize.”
I sighed. “I know, but they aren’t my parents and-as much as I adore the urchin-Gracie isn’t Eric.”
At the sound of his name I immediately slipped into memories of my unfairly gorgeous older brother. Blessed with olive-toned skin that wouldn’t risk 2nd degree burns in the sun for more than five minutes, he’d inherited Dad’s dark good looks whereas I mostly resembled Mom. Deep brown solemn brown eyes, a tiny frame, freckles that trailed across a roses-and-cream complexion, all handed down from her. The only physical feature Eric and I’d had in common had been our hair. We’d both gotten Dad’s nearly-black shade and Mom’s curliness. Granted, Eric’s had only brushed his collar and mine almost reached my rear-end, but the similarities remained.
“You aren’t being fair to them.”
Jules’s comment snapped me from my reverie.
“You’re right. Let’s just get me through today and I’ll work on appreciating them more all during Fall break. What else will keep me busy while you’re off hitting the slopes?”
*****
Navigating the clogged hallways of Lee High required a certain finesse, an art form involving skills at limb-dodging and squeezing through spaces that normally allowed no human body access. I considered myself a grand master at it, able to wind my way through kissing couples, sneaking smokers, and furtive freaks alike, all without any of them being the wiser to my having passed them by.
Like a kid playing tag, holding her breath for that one last sprint to safety, I slid gratefully into my homeroom desk, inwardly cried Base!, and exhaled, closed-eyed.
A moment later something whooshed by my ear, startling me. Across the room Drew Christian smile at me apologetically and nodded at my feet where a rainbow hacky-sack rested against my left heel.
Drew called thanks when I tossed the ball back, but I tilted my face away, pretending to be too focused on pulling a book out of my bag to see.
I’d noticed Drew the first day here because he’d been sitting on the corner of a friend’s desk and busted out laughing at something else when I’d walked into the room. His dimples had flashed at me in passing. When the bell rang he’d gone back to his own desk, folded his legs under the table, and begun tapping his pencil again his thigh. Crush at first sight.
More kids trickled into the room, getting themselves settled for Mrs. Meyer to call roll. My nose stayed in my novel, presenting the picture of a disinterested bookworm. I didn’t look up when the teacher said, “Oliviero”, just mumbled a syllable that could be taken as, ‘here’, but when she got to the ‘S’s’ something changed. The air shifted, bodies all swiveling at once to a point in the center of the room.
Meyer had said ‘Solis’.
A new kid. He sprawled in his seat looking like no boy I had ever clapped eyes on before. Almost-white blond hair spilled back from a face as beautiful as Michelangelo’s David. Pale features cute a sharp fineness around eyes that blazed a degree too brightly, like storm clouds lit from behind. A silver-grey sweater outlined his wide shoulders and flat abdomen, a little too perfectly, and the dark grey cords wrapped around his legs hinted at well-defined muscles there, stream-lined and simple. The monochromatic scheme should have washed him out, but it worked on him. At hearing his name he’d raised a hand in acknowledgement, to fingers raised above the rest, all of them covered in black leather gloves.
Chrissy Anderson, the typical “It” girl every high school was required to have, stared at Mr. Blonde Ambition, her mouth hanging slack. Even money she’d have his phone number before the day ended…unless he went for the sable-haired sultriness Jules had in spades. He’d be better off with his fellow fair-haired goddess, though; my best friend would chew him up and spit him out.
*****
Walking home would take longer than riding with Jules and a little more time to myself was just what I wanted. I grabbed my friend at the lockers to let her know my change in plans and then headed out on my own.
I got in just as Aunt Catherine pulled something delicious-smelling from the oven. The scrape of the door closing clashed with the wistful being hummed in the kitchen.
Aunt Catherine and Uncle Tim were only in their early thirties, but they obviously dreamt of times gone by when things were supposedly simpler. I hadn’t been surprised to catch them waltzing around the dining table in quite a while, but those first few times had really thrown me.
I hung my coat up on the rack and tugged at my shoes, wrestling them off my feet. My shuffling tipped Aunt Catherine off to my presence and she called for me to get ready for dinner.
“And would you mind setting the table? I’m up to my elbows in salad greens.
Asking me to set the table (not help with the food) was charity. Aunt Catherine’s first few attempts at teaching me to cook had failed miserably so now she stuck to assigning me things that could be nuked or kept away from heat altogether.
I washed my hands and circled the table a few times, laying out the flatware and dishes. Aunt Catherine smiled at me in her soft way as she sat rolls on a tray to be put into the now-empty oven.
“Did you have a good day at school? You’re home a little earlier than expected. I thought you would go to Jules’s house.”
“She needed time to get her stuff together and I didn’t want to get in her way. Hey, what’s that song? You’ve had it stuck in your head a couple days now, right?”
She smiled dreamily at me. “It’s an old Gershwin song called ‘Someone to Watch Over Me’. It’s always been one of my favorites but I seem particularly fond of it lately. You uncle played Jimmy Winters in the play, you know.”
The uncle in question breezed into the room just then, sliding his briefcase on the bar.
I stared at him. “Really? You sang in a play?”
“Is your aunt telling on me again? I assume you mean that nothing I did in high school? Don’t look so flabbergasted,” he admonished. “We’re better at a lot of things when we’re young.”
*****
After helping with the clean-up effort I spent some time playing with Gracie. She slumped in my lap ready to hit the sack after two Dora the Explorer books and one bathtime submarine adventure so we finished up with goodnight kisses and prayers before I headed up to my room.
I didn’t want to do anything new so I pulled out the book from my backpack and absently flipped through its pages for a while.
Forty-five minutes later I stifled my own yawns. This particularly hellish day was almost over and the time to brush my teeth, wash my face, and re-braid my hair had finally come. With my nightly routine finished I curled into my bed and pulled the covers high over my shoulders. By the time I succumbed to unconsciousness I’d cried enough to turn my pillow into a soggy mess. The tears hadn’t given me any relief.
I still fell asleep with the date blazing behind my eyelids.
October 15th. Happy Anniversary to me.
*****
Stop staring at me. Stop staring at me or I will come over there and smack you silly…
The new kid ignored my command and continued to watch me.
Oh, come on! I’m not asking much from you here. I just want to sit under my tree and read my book for a little while, maybe listen to some tunes in peace. All you have to do is go away and my dreams can all come true!
He didn’t budge, completely unfazed.
Luckily for him I didn’t have the guts to hit anyone. A shame, really; maybe a little senseless violence would do me some good. Not exactly a Zen outlook, but then again Gandhi did have that bit of wisdom about carrying a big stick.
Today I had the place all to myself with the one exception. If I could just will him away things would be perfect.
I sneaked a look at the interloper, eyes hidden behind my lashes. He leaned against a far lamp-post, relaxed and careless, his arms cross loosely in front of him. Only his gaze-trained on the spot of grass where I sat-seemed off, too intense, too focused. It bored into me.
I kept my head down, hoping he would realize I’d seen him and think I was interested, because I wasn’t. My handy-dandy Mp3 player out a ‘burst your eardrums’ volume to help wash away the distraction of Blondie.
The book was a favorite, probably because the hero boasted supernatural perfection, but he loved an ordinary girl. I, being the personification of ordinary, totally identified with her. Actually, she had it better off; listless might be a better term for me. Major tragedy will do things like that to a girl; it had made me a minor character in my own life.
While I busily fought to lose myself in the story a flash of lightning drew my gaze to the skies. Fluffs of white splotched the clear expanse of blue above, but the hill and hollows of the Shenandoah Valley had an extremely pschizo view of what weather should be like; One minute shorts are fine and the next people scramble to find coats and scarves because snow can stick to the ground.
I sighed and started wrapping up my headphones. With my book tucked safely away in my backpack, I tugged my blue knit cap further over my ears. A feathering of breezes tickled the few strands of hair that had escaped the moorings of my braid and I shivered.
Why is my little Cinderella still so sad? You should be well on your way to winning over Charming with your gorgeous smile, not hiding in the grass like one of your skittish mouse friends.
The words brushed my ear softly as the curl of wind drifted passed my throat. I spun around, almost dropping my things. Nothing but the usual scenery greeted me.
I turned back to the lamp-post, ready to accuse my solo audience of harassment, but he had disappeared into thin air.
I shook my head thinking I must be losing my mind.
Another bolt of freakishly silent lightning flashed off to my right reminding me my best interests lay in getting home.
*****
I woke from my afternoon nap to find Gracie in bed with me. I vaguely recalled her warm little body slipping in with me not long after I’d drifted on.
I slid myself out of bed as quietly as I could so I didn’t interrupt her sleep, needing to be especially gentle as I uncurled her tiny fingers from around the end of my braid.
A quick shower and throwing-on of clothes later and I was ready to face the rest of my afternoon-which I soon realized was devoid of plans. Aunt Catherine had been right; I did know what to do with myself if Jules wasn’t around.
But at least today isn’t yesterday. It’s got that going for it.
Oh, well. I could figure things out while tracing one of my favorite routes through town. I paused to grab a muffin from the basket on the kitchen table and tell Uncle Tim (who sat reading the paper and drinking coffee) where I’d be.
“By the way, Gracie’s conked out in my bed again.”
“Duly noted.”
“I won’t be late.”
“Before dark?”
“Dinnertime at the latest.”
“Okay. Call if you need anything.”
“Roger that.”
The entire conversation lasted approximately ten seconds. Uncle Tim’s eyes never wavered from the paper once. Beautiful.
Since the street layout in the center of Staunton is almost a hundred years old it’s a good idea to know the best route from point A to point B that doesn’t actually involve roads, otherwise you risk being mowed down in traffic blind spots.
My meandering eventually lead me to Vinyl, the tiny music shop on East Beverly, next to the Bookstack. Embarrassing, but not surprising. Drew worked here part time and chances were good he’d be inside making some extra cash during the break.
I pulled a deep breath into my lungs and walked in on shaking legs. Drew waited on another customer but threw me a distracted grin. I quickly ducked behind a rack of CDs for safety’s sake. That smile was dangerous; if often made me babble like an idiot.
Being a music fanatic as least gave me an excuse to be here, a productive one, even. I picked through the discs in front of me, seeing one I’d wanted to get. By the time I’d scanned most of the new release shelf Drew finished with his customer and nodded at me to come over.
“Hey, Joss. How’s things?” he dimpled.
“Fine, thanks. You?” I blurted, trying to avoid engaging my Idiot Gear.
You know, getting in billable hours. I’m saving towards a new camera. My old Nikon’s shot.”
He said it as if he had no idea I had everything about him memorized, which-thank goodness-he didn’t. I just nodded and slid my CD, a twenty resting on top, across the counter to him.
“Out of everyone who comes in here you are by far the most unpredictable. Last week it was country, and this week you pick this?” He held the punk album up.
“That’s me, I like to keep people guessing.”
“Drew punched numbers into the register and got my change out. A flash of movement in the mirrored wall behind him caught my eye. Park Boy held the wall up across the street. He inspected me through the store window, arrogant little smile firmly in place.
As much as my spy distracted me I didn’t hear Drew talking to me. I had to ask him to me.
“I’m sorry. What? I spaced for a second.”
“I said break’ll speed by too fast to settle for ‘fine’. Maybe someone could help you with that.”
Feel like volunteering?
I didn’t have the courage to say that out loud, but a little telepathic giftedness just then would have been welcome. Besides, I had another male on the brain just then, though for completely different reasons.
Park Boy shoved himself off the wall and began strolling carelessly down the street.
I scooped up my little bad, mumbled something insensible like, “You have fun, too” and smiled at a surprised-looking Drew as I scrambled out the door.
Once outside I scanned both sides of the street but the guy had disappeared…again! A second later a flare of white turning on to Frederick street about two blocks down caught my attention. I took off running.
My breathless, “Hey!” was barely audible when I finally caught up with him. He walked on, probably not realizing I mean him. I tried again, yelling louder this time.
“Hey, hold on!”