“You should hurry up. What time is your first class?” I asked Aria.
“Um, eight forty-five. It’s an intro class.”
“It’s your first year. They are probably all intro classes.”
“Smart ass,” she said, then stuck her tongue out at me. See, she didn’t take my shit. I loved this kid.
Just then, the door opened to my parents’ bedroom and Wally came out in his uniform of Wally’s Tire & Co., a blue work shirt and gray pants. “Why are you still here?” he directed at me, of course.
Really? “I was actually just leaving, Dad, just saying bye to Aria,” I said dryly.
“Have a great first day at school, kiddo,” he said, giving Aria a big hug—hugs, I might add, he would never afford me.
“Thanks, Dad,” she said, squeezing him around the middle.
Wally was the only dad she could remember. Her biological father died of a heart attack when she was four, and Wally married Ann when Aria was five, so that’s why she calls him Dad. He never treated her like anything other than as his own biological daughter—doting on her where he didn’t me, giving her hugs and kisses when she fell off her bike, where I got none. But I never felt any animosity toward her for it. It was quite the opposite, actually. I had always just accepted that my time for all that had come and gone, and it was hers. He gave her the moon, and I got the dust, but I guess I didn’t complain too much because Ann gave me the stars. Aria never rubbed it in my face. She was aware Wally was not her biological father, and she was also aware of the way he treated me like I was the redheaded stepchild, even though my hair was black and I was actually not the stepchild. Aria never acted like she was better than me just because my father treated me like shit and her like non-shit. It was another reason why I loved this kid.
“Come on, Aria. I’ll walk you out,” I said.
“Okay. Bye, Daddy. Have a good day at work,” she said as she leaned up to kiss Wally on the cheek.
“See you, kiddo.”
I got no such good-bye. I actually got a grunt as he looked at me, turned, and walked out the backdoor. This I was used to. It had always been this way. Why break with tradition, right?
Chapter 2
I grabbed my purse, walked out the front door, and told Aria I would see her at school. I had about an hour before my first class and wanted to catch Trevor before he went to work. It was always hot in Florida, and today was no exception—a blistering 92 degrees. In Shaddy Groves, there was only one of everything. One high school, one college, one animal clinic, one hospital, one...Well, you get the picture. And, as in all small towns, everyone knew everyone. As I walked out to my car, I waved hello to all the neighbors on my parents’ street. I grew up in this house and knew all of them since I was born.
“Hi, Mr. Jones.”
“Mrs. Damson.”
“Mrs. Elliot.”
“Mr. Simmons!” I yelled, as he was a little deaf.
They all waved back in turn from their respective lawns or driveways. When I was little, I hated the attention, as I could never get away with anything. The whole neighborhood was on watch, literally.
My phone range with a familiar ringtone, letting me know it was Trevor. “Hey, you. I was just going to come and see you before I go to class,” I said into the phone.
“I love it when you surprise me at work, baby, but today is no good. Boss man is on a warpath.” He breathed into the phone.
Trevor Martin and I had been dating for a year and half, and it was pretty serious with us. We were practically living together and spent every moment together. When I was not in school and he was not working, we were together. We’d gone to the same schools since the first grade and were friends throughout high school, and then after graduation we became something more. Trevor made me feel wanted, something Wally never made me feel, and I instantly clung to him.
“Oh, pooh. I had an hour before class. I was going to bring you some breakfast,” I whined. I wasn’t a whiner by trait, but he brought it out in me. He brought a lot of things out in me.
“Unless it’s naked breakfast, no can do, babe.”
“Oh, but you can do naked breakfast, you perv?”
“Baby,” he said patiently, “there is always time for naked breakfast.” He said the last part lowly, in that way.
“I’m hanging up now, Mr. Naked Breakfast. Will I see you after class?” I asked.
“Of course. Love you,” he breathed.
“Love you too.” I smiled into the phone as I hung up. I would never get tired of saying those words. It took me awhile to say them, since I thought I couldn’t. I wasn’t even sure I knew how to say those words, since they were never said to me until Mom came into my life. But Trevor was so willing and eager to love me and for me to let him in, it was just...easy. My family loved him, except Wally because, well, he didn’t love anything associated with me, and Trevor loved my family, even crazy Aunt Opal. He loved everyone, except my best friend Justina, and believe you me, the feeling was so mutual. They had a love-to-hate-each-other relationship. Tina and I had been best friends since the sandbox at kindergarten. Outside of my family, she was one of the only people in town whom I would go to the extreme for—the other being Trevor, of course.
Tina lived on the other side of town in a very nuclear family. Her mother was a stay-at-home mom, and her father worked at the local hospital as a general surgeon. Tina and I did everything together. Even when we had boyfriends, we still did everything together. People, namely our boyfriends, found it strange, but we just found it normal. If one of us got into an argument with our boyfriend, it was perfectly normal for us to text one another at two o’clock in the morning to discuss it, and it didn’t matter what the other may or may not have not been doing or about to do. When we called each other, it was an emergency, since we usually communicated through text messaging alone. It was a thing.
Since my plans with Trevor were shot, I decided to see what Tina was up to, so I sent her a text.
U up?
No
Great coming over
Window locked find ur own way in ho
Challenge accepted C U in a few
I placed my phone in the cup holder, buckled up, and pulled out of the driveway and headed over to Tina’s house. Tina still lived with her parents because her mother did not want her to live on campus. She thought it wasn’t safe for her “baby girl” at the age of twenty-two to live all alone. This was something Tina hated and rebelled against by staying at my place as much as possible. My place, my hole-in-the-wall dorm room, was a single, thank god. Despite its small size, it had become the unofficial hangout for Aria, Trevor, and Tina, and a tug-of-war ensued most nights as to who got to stay.
Aria usually lost first because of her age, and then came Tina. Her mom usually nagged the hell out of her to come home so that she would be safe. So that left Trevor the victor.
Driving through Shaddy Groves is like watching time stand still for twenty-two years. Everything is the same as it was since the day I was born. The same signpost, the same shops, and the same owners of said shops. There have been only a few renovations to our small town: the addition of a Starbucks to accommodate the college kids, the SuperTarget to accommodate the college kids, and the megaplex on the outskirts of town to accommodate, you guessed it, the college kids. Other than that, Shaddy Groves remained untouched. I’m sure if I didn’t have my familial ties here, I would have left too.
Truth is, I hated this town and all its smallness. But as long as I had my family and Trevor and Tina, I wasn’t really going anywhere. They were the only family I had, and as weird as it sounds, I didn’t want to give them up. However, if anyone asked, I would deny that I ever said that.
As I pulled into the Delgados’ driveway, I waved good-bye to Dr. D as he was pulling out, no doubt headed to work.
“Front door is unlocked, Dacey,” he called out the window of his SUV.
“How did you know I was coming to just leave your door unlocked?”
> “Please, my wife is a black belt. I’m not worried,” he said as he drove off.
Oh. Well, I had forgotten Maria Delgado was a black belt in some crazy form of kick-your-ass martial arts, although you would never know it by just looking at her. She was a small woman with tiny hips and a short frame. She stood about five feet four and weighed about a buck five. I had never actually seen her kick ass, but I was told she could be quite scary.
As I walked in, I knocked. Loudly. I wasn’t stupid. I did value my head. “Hello, Mrs. D!” I yelled just to be on the safe side.
She came around the corner wiping her hands on her apron, looking just as fresh as the morning sun. How she was up and dressed before eight o’clock, looking this perfect, baffled me.
“Hi, Dacey dear. How are you this morning? Have you had breakfast?” She smiled lovingly at me.
“I’m fine, and no. Thank you. I’d love some. I’ll go wake up Tina,” I said as I headed for the stairs.
“She’s going to be grouchy,” Mrs. D sang.
“Isn’t she always.” I laughed, bounding up the stairs. I rounded the corner to Justina’s room and went in without knocking. I threw myself onto a huge pile of pillows and blankets, as I knew she was underneath them somewhere. When I heard a “ghhof,” I rolled over. “Get up. I’m hungry.”
Bright red hair peeked out from one end of the blanket pile.
“So go eat. I thought I told you my window was locked. How did you get in?” she said grouchily.
“You know I don’t want to eat at your table without you. It’s weird. And your door was unlocked. I just walked in,” I said.
“I’m going to have to talk to my mom about drop-kicking everyone who walks in unannounced. I guess you’re going to starve because I’m not getting up. I’m tired. Go away.”
“Get up, you troglodyte.”
“Ugh, go away now. No big words. Too early,” she grunted, burying her head under the pillow.
“Don’t you want to hear my aunt Opal story today?” I sang.
That was all it took. Tina lived for my aunt Opal stories like they were Nutella on toast.
“Next time, lead with that, ho.” She emerged from underneath the pillow, shooting me a look.
Tina had “a look” for just about every situation known to man, and I always knew what look she was trying to convey without words. It was something I picked up from the sandbox days.
As she proceeded to get up, I noticed her tank top and boy shorts with “FREAK ME” written across her ass and rolled my eyes. Tina did not believe in the “more is less” rule. To her, less was less, and better. She wasn’t a slut or anything. She just liked to leave little to the imagination and flaunt what she had, which was a lot. And by a lot, I meant her breasts, which were 36 C; her tiny waist, which I’m sure she inherited from her mother; and her huge ass. That was all packaged in a nice five-foot-five body.
Whenever I stood next to her, I felt...plain. I didn’t consider myself ugly, just plain. I was five feet eight, taller than most girls I knew, and average, not thin.
Coming in at 150 pounds, I was well within my healthy body mass index, according to health class, and had long, wavy black hair that I mostly wore in a ponytail because I was too tired to do anything else with it. But most people noticed my eyes. They were ice blue, my mother’s eyes. Paired with my black hair, that’s what made me stand out.
“So what has the vieja loca been saying now?” Tina asked as she made her way to the bathroom that was attached to her room.
Being used to Tina’s Spanglish terms, I knew she basically called my crazy old aunt Opal, well, crazy and old. To Tina, that was a term of endearment.
“She claimed the Harry Potter witches were talking to her this time.”
“Aye, Aunt Opal. From boiling cheese—which, by the way, classic—now witches? Where does she come up with this shit?”
“If we knew, I don’t think she would be the crazy one. I have long since stopped trying to figure out her mind.”
“I’m going to get her an agent. She needs an agent and a book and movie deal. That woman spits gold. Gold, I tell you!” This she said laughing in between brushing her teeth and spitting toothpaste everywhere.
“We could call it Opal: The Untold Story and get one of the Harry Potter witches to play her!” I added.
“Okay!” she said, holding her stomach and laughing. “We need lives.”
“No more than normal, but seriously, Opal is being less Opaly and more crazy. She called me Susan today, Tina. It was disconcerting,” I said, sobering up.
“Aww, Spacy Dacey, it’ll be okay. I’ll ask Daddy to recommend some names for some neurologists. I know Opal won’t go, but maybe we can just look into them for her, and if she gets worse, just make her go.”
That’s what I loved about Tina. It was never “you,” it was always “we” or “us.” Even though Aunt Opal was my family, she treated her like she was her family too, and therefore her problem as well.
She almost made me cry. She was always doing annoyingly great shit like that. It was probably one of the main reasons I loved her. “Thanks, Justina-benna.”
“Ugh, what am I, eleven? Come on. I’m a hot piece of ass! I am no longer kiddie-name material,” she said as she cringed at the nickname I hadn’t used since we were in middle school.
“Same goes for me with Spacy Dacey,” I said.
“Touché,” she mocked, surprised. “We are both hot pieces of ass, although one of us sees it more than the other. I’m just saying.” She raised an eyebrow at me.
I chose to ignore this comment.
She came out of the bathroom and went into her closet to dress in her normal too-little tank top and, what I’m sure, too tight and too short shorts and sandals, but, hey, remember her rule. Again, I felt plain in my Linkin Park T-shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes. I rocked the plain.
As we went downstairs, I wondered what it would be like, as I often did, to have Tina’s life. To be the only child of two loving parents who loved and doted on her and gave her the moon. To not have to want for anything. It was always a fleeting thought because the Delgados always made clear whatever was theirs was mine as well. I could have had all that stuff. I just didn’t want to seem like a moocher.
“I was just about to call you girls down. The food was getting cold,” Mrs. D said as she poured OJ in a glass.
“Gracias, mami.” Tina dropped a kiss on each cheek to say good-morning to her mother, as was custom in their house.
I looked at the pancakes and sausage, and my mouth watered. “Hummm, sausage, I love you so.”
Tina made some crude-ass joke about me loving Trevor’s sausage that had me choking on my orange juice as I was taking a sip. I choose to ignore her and continue eating.
I had just finished my pancakes and was getting ready to cut into my sausage—Tina’s mom always made the best sausage—when my cellphone rang.
“Dacey, no cellphone—” Mrs. D began.
“It’s my aunt Opal. I have to take this. I’m sorry,” I said as I hurried from the table, with Tina right behind me.
Whenever Aunt Opal called me, it almost always meant I had to come over.
“Hi, Aunt Opal,” I said, wondering why she was calling me after I just left her house not too long ago.
“Hello? Hello? How did you know it was me, chile? It must be them witches again.” The last part she said more to herself.
Aunt Opal was lucid, as lucid as Aunt Opal could be. This was a good sign. It was normal Aunt Opal and not abnormal Aunt Opal. This I could handle.
“I have caller ID, Aunt Opal. We go over this every time you call me. What’s the matter?” I asked patiently.
“Oh. Well, you need to come on yonder here. Somethin’s the matter with Rufus. I gave him some o’ dis here chocolate milk and now he don’ look too good.”
“You gave your dog chocolate milk? How much chocolate milk did you give him?” Only Opal, I swear. I closed my eyes and counted to ten.
&nb
sp; “I gave ’em the whole gallon! He kept whinin’ like he wanted the whole thing, so I gave it to ’em.”
Oh dear god. “Um, okay, Auntie. I’ll come and take him to Trevor. But in the future, you can’t give a dog a whole gallon of chocolate milk. No, scratch that. You can’t give a dog milk, let alone chocolate milk!”
“Whatcha takin’ Rufus to ya old boyfriend for?” Opal asked, confused.
“Because, Auntie, Trevor works for the Shaddy Groves Animal Clinic. He can fix Rufus.”
“Oh. Well, whatcha doin’ standin’ ’round for? Hurry up an’ get over yonder here!” Then she hung up. No good-bye or thanks, but I was used to that.
I turned to Tina, who had put together my one-sided conversation and already had her purse.
“Let’s go, girl. We got a dog to save, and there is no way I’m missing Opal: The Untold Story,” Tina said. She told her mom good-bye and followed me out the door as I rushed to Aunt Opal’s for the second time this morning.
By the time we got to Opal’s house, she was outside in her night robe and slippers, flagging me down like I didn’t know where her house was. I pulled into the driveway and got out.
“He’s in the kitchen. Hurry, chile!” Opal was near frantic.
Opal Jean Watson had the look of an eccentric woman. I guess you don’t get the label of being the town crazy without looking the part. At nearly seventy years old, she wore colorful outfits, usually of floral or checkered patterns mixed with loud solids like hot pinks and blues. And she always seemed to miss a roller or two when she was taking them out of her hair, so she walked around with them unless I got to her before she went out. To top it off, she carried around this huge leopard-print bag that had everything—and I mean everything—in it that she thought she would need, as Opal didn’t drive.
Rufus was a very old cocker spaniel that was almost as old and crazy as Opal. He was lying on his side when I came into the kitchen, legs splayed out and panting, stomach huge, I assume, from the gallon of milk he’d ingested. I pulled out my cellphone to text Trevor. He would respond faster by text than if I called, since he wouldn’t be able to actually pick up.
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