Forks

by A.E. Davis

We didn’t get back from Port Angeles until almost six but the food was really good and we did find me a dress for twenty dollars, which was remarkable. Glinda even dragged me into “the bookstore” and bought me a copy of Twilight. At some point, I guessed I would read it, but it was a surprisingly big book, so, I may have to cheat and watch the movie instead. Glinda said she would discuss the imperative parts with me once I finished reading it. I wasn’t sure what that meant.

  Standing in front of my mirror, I looked at my reflection and smoothed my hand down the full crinoline skirt. She wanted us to wear sneakers for the tour and change into our dress shoes once the tour was over. I asked her if we could change into our dresses after the tour but she wouldn’t hear of it. She said it would be more fun if we were dressed up. She even made a point of saying the boys in the Quileute tribe were “to die for.”

  Needless to say, I had some major butterflies in my stomach, but I was really looking forward to going. This was the most fun I had had in a really long time and could only imagine what the night would hold in store. Giving myself the once over in the mirror one last time, I grabbed my bag and headed downstairs.

  “Amber,” Mom gushed appreciatively as I descended the stairs. “Look at you.” She lifted the hem of my skirt and felt the material. “Oh, I love it.” Then her eyes settled on my high-top black converse and she made a face. “What are you wearing those for?”

  “We are going on a walking tour of La Push and Glinda said it would be better to wear sneakers until after.”

  “Well…” she exhaled. “ I guess that is all right.”

  She didn’t look convinced. “Wait…” She did a double take. “Who is Glinda?”

  “Oh, she is a girl from school who is in a couple of my classes,” I said while I dug my wallet out of my messenger bag and put it into an old clutch purse I pulled from my closet. It was my Grandmothers and not surprisingly, looked like it was from the same era as my dress, which translated into “old as dirt.”

  “Are you meeting any boys?” she asked, her brows inching up her forehead.

  “I don’t know, Mom.” I hoped some would be there or Glinda and I would be dancing with each other.

  “What about that nice boy that was here last night?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “Did you find out what happened to him?”

  “Not really.”

  A worried look crossed her face. “He’s fine though,” I assured her. “I saw him today.”

  “Really,” she said, and crossed her arms. “What did he have to say for himself?”

  “Not much,” I said. “He’s supposed to meet with me tomorrow so we can do our English paper, though.”

  “Really,” she brightened. “Is he coming here?”

  I tensed. “I’m not sure.”

  “Oh well,” she sighed and stepped in front of the mirror and fluffed her hair. “What time do you think you will be home?”

  “Around One-ish…I think.”

  “Now Amber…” she began, like she was about to object.

  “Mom, it’s only a dance. There will be adults there too.”

  “Oh well, in that case,” she exhaled. “I suppose it is all right. But don’t make a habit out of it. You have a curfew you know.”

  “How could I forget,” I muttered. I neglected to tell her we were going to a bonfire at La Push after the dance. She was on a need to know basis and as far as I was concerned, she didn’t need to know.

  “So, when is Ken coming over?” I changed the subject.

  She beamed. “Around seven, I think.” She hugged herself. “He’s bringing dinner.”

  “Wow. That’s nice.”

  “I know, right,” she gushed, sounding like she was my age. “He’s in Port Angeles, so he is picking up some Italian food from Bella Italia.”

  “I ate there today,” I said. “The food is really good.”

  “Did you have the risotto with mushrooms? That’s what I’m having.”

  Of course. “Nah, I had a veggie pizza.”

  “What did your friend have?”

  “The same as me, we shared.”

  “Well, I will tell you how it is.”

  “Kay.” I slid my phone into my clutch. It barely fit. Mom stepped back in front of the mirror. “You look great, Mom.”

  “I do, don’t I,” she said, adjusting her black sweater so it showed off her shoulders. She paired it with a pair of red skinny jeans and high-heeled ankle boots.

  I could never tell if she was asking a question or not, so I answered to be safe. “Yeah, you really do.” And she did. Mom had me when she was young so most people thought she was my sister. I didn’t mind though, it was kind-of cool…unless my dates hit on her, and then it kind-of sucked. She was much prettier than me and fairer complexioned with straight blonde hair. I looked more like my dad. He had dark curly hair. Unfortunately, I got his hair and I looked like a fuzzy frizz ball if it rained or was humid. I kept it long. I was afraid if I cut it I would look like Shirley Temple — so most days I wore it up, just to keep it out of my way.

  “What’s Ken doing in Port Angeles?” I asked distractedly, trying to figure out what to wear over top of my dress. It was either my kid rain slicker or my black pea coat. Neither would look good.

  “Oh…” She cut her eyes to the side, which was a sure sign she was about to lie. “He had something to take care of.”

  I didn’t press her. She would spill it to me sooner or later anyway. She couldn’t keep a secret.

  ten

  It was raining again when I pulled into the Visitor Center parking lot. I backed into a space so I could see when Glinda pulled in. There weren’t many cars and it was getting foggy again, so I kept the car running with the lights on. We were going to ride together to La Push and then head over to the dance. I wasn’t real sure where the dance was even going to be, but Glinda knew.

  Turning on the radio, I listened to the local radio station. As usual, it crackled, so I could only hear parts of the song. Frustrated, I turned it down on low and pulled out my phone. It was already 7:45. I called Glinda but it went straight to voicemail.

  :I’m here. Where are you?

  I hit end and tapped the steering wheel, waiting, staring out my windshield.

  A car pulled in and I let out a sigh of relief until I realized it wasn’t Glinda. A group of kids all dressed up in tuxes and real prom dresses unloaded from one car and climbed into another larger car and drove away. I looked down at my thrift shop special dress feeling stupid. Great.

  A ghostly face appeared in my window and a hand slammed against the glass. “Ahhhhhhhhh!”