by Kate Morris
Chapter Two
Most of her first day flew by without incident, even if a lot of the kids were talking not so subtly behind her back. She was used to that. By her final period, which was Chemistry class, she had a screaming headache and didn’t say two words to her assigned lab partner, some boy who the girls seemed to have been drooling over. She’d just kept her hood up and her nose in the lesson book. Working on the complex algebraic equations had been comforting and familiar.
By the end of the day, Wren was more than ready to get the heck out of the school and back home. She had a fifteen-minute drive home because she didn’t live in town like most of the other kids. She lived just outside of it in a mobile home park where mostly retirees lived. It was the kind of place they always lived in no matter the city.
She cranked the music, listening to an indie-rock, girl-band and sang along. It felt good to stretch her vocal cords a little since she was mostly silent all day at school. It wasn’t by accident, either. She’d dodged questions from those who were curious enough or actually brave enough to approach her and talk. She avoided conversation. It was just easier that way. She didn’t care if her classmates thought she was a total bitch. She was used to that part, too. The more she put them off, the easier it was. At lunch, she’d chosen to stay in the library, eat her packed sandwich, and read. Starting school after the actual start date made her a little behind, so she had some catch-up work to do.
Wren slowed to a stop when the light in front of her turned red. The next song came on. Boy band. Turn immediately. Flip, flip, flip. She couldn’t find a better channel. Even the news was better than the music choices, so she switched it over to the AM stations because she didn’t have satellite radio. Her uncle listened a lot to the man who was speaking, a political commentator.
“…and from what we’ve heard, this flu virus could become serious,” he was saying. “What do you think about that theory, doctor?”
His guest, who must’ve been the doctor, replied, “Well, I don’t know about that. A few thousand people infected with a flu virus isn’t much to report on.”
“But from what they’re saying in the EU, it sounds pretty bad,” the host countered.
“Flu viruses come and go. This one will be no different. I recommend strongly everyone get vaccinated with the flu vaccine just for some added protection…”
Aaaand flip back to FM. Talking about the flu was not exactly an exciting political discussion. “Carry on my Wayward Son” was playing, and she belted out the Kansas lyrics she knew by heart. Her uncle also loved old music, so this was the stuff on at the house all the time when they were doing projects.
She accelerated away and made good time getting home, pulling through the entry gates that were never actually closed. Driving past the pool that was shut down for winter made her a little sad. She loved the sun, loved swimming, soaking up the Vitamin D. She missed her old home in Texas, just outside of Dallas. California had also been a lot better than this. Wren really, really missed her real home, though.
Parking the car under the carport, Wren got out just as her neighbor, Lila, came out of her own trailer.
“Good thing you got here quickly,” Lila said, her black ponytail bobbing as she walked in her red stilettos. “They need me at the restaurant a half hour early.”
She passed the toddler she was balancing on her hip to Wren, “Oh, sorry, Lila.”
“No, no worries, kid,” she remarked with her usual flippant tone. She even waved her hand around as if swatting a bug away. “I’ll get there when I get there. I told Mr. Contuccini to hold his horses. Jane should be there. She’s a reliable kid. She’ll hold down the fort till I arrive. You two should meet. She’s a hoot. ‘Bout your age. Shy as all get out.”
Wren deflected her suggestion to say, “You usually don’t start until five. Did someone call off?”
“Yeah, I think Rayla. Mr. C said she called off sick.”
“Oh, hope it’s not the flu,” she remarked, remembering the conversation on the radio.
“Hm, not sure. Maybe. It’s kinda’ early for that shit to be running its rounds already.”
“I don’t know. I’m used to warmer weather. Not sure when to expect that sort of stuff to start around here.”
“Oh, yeah. California girl, right?” Lila asked as she rounded her vehicle to the driver’s door. Wren followed.
“Yep,” she lied, although that wasn’t entirely true. “Has she eaten?” Wren asked of the little girl.
“I fed her lunch,” her friend said and tickled the toddler’s neck, getting a giggle.
“Great,” Wren said.
“Want some fettuccini? I get off at eight. I can drop it between shifts,” her friend said with a smile, as usual. “I’ll bring ya’ some. I don’t mind.”
“Um, no thanks,” she answered and shifted her new friend’s daughter on her hip to better hold onto her messenger bag, too. Motherhood was sometimes a juggling act. She didn’t ever want kids. Life was fragile. You could lose the people you loved in an instant. Kids were a load of work and responsibility. “I’ve got pork chops in the crockpot. She can eat with us.”
“Of course, you do,” Lila said and shook her head. “You’re awfully responsible for being a teeny-bopper. See ya’ tomorrow morning, toots.”
“See you,” Wren said. It was easier to keep her daughter overnight when Lila worked late. Lila was working the bar after the restaurant job and wouldn’t get home until after two a.m. Wren didn’t mind keeping her overnight. Lila trusted her to keep Hope safe and felt comfortable enough leaving her with her until morning. She even paid her about hundred bucks a week to babysit. It was better than finding a part-time job in this town. It wasn’t worth it. They were going to move again soon anyway. Plus, the cash payment was tax-free and didn’t require paperwork.
She waved to her friend as Lila pulled away in her small SUV.
“So, you were a good girl today?” she asked the toddler and got an ornery smile in return.
“Yes!” she exclaimed with her usual excitement about absolutely everything and nothing. That was the thing about four-year-old children, she was learning.
The second she entered the trailer, she smelled the meat cooking, and it awakened her appetite. She hadn’t eaten much at school. Her stomach was in knots all day. It always was the first day of school until she had the layout of the entire building and grounds memorized. Wren placed the girl on the floor, and she immediately took off to gather toys to wreck the small living room like she did everywhere she went no matter the location. She was beginning to regret asking Lila for a box of toys for her house.
“I just need to do some schoolwork, Hope, so just play with your dolls, okay?”
“Yes, Wren,” the toddler answered with a ‘yes’ that was annunciated with a lisp and her name coming off more as ‘win’.
She dropped her messenger bag on the floor in the tiny kitchen and pulled out her English book. By the end of the week, she had to turn in a paper. Hope played quietly for the most part while she read Jane Eyre and wrote by hand in her notebook. She didn’t have a laptop like most of the kids in her new school seemed to. Nope. It was good old-fashioned pen and paper for her.
Avoiding the kids at school was second nature for her. She knew the routine, what to do, where to go when the situation got too hot, how to handle herself. It didn’t matter, though. Even making friends would’ve been a waste of time. They wouldn’t be in this town long, and none of the kids in this new high school would’ve understood her strange lifestyle.
“Mr. Jamie’s home!” Hope cried out with glee and ran for the door.
The moment he walked through, Wren let out a sigh of relief and offered up a big smile of her own. She always felt like this when her uncle was home. Relieved. Safe. Protected.
“How’s my favorite girls doing today?” he asked in his usual, cheerful tone.
“Great,” Wren answered as she rose to peel potatoes to be boiled and then smashed. Meals like this
were convenient because they’d have leftovers tomorrow and she wouldn’t have to cook a whole new dinner. She’d learned over the past couple years to do that to make life a little easier. Uncle Jamie was the worst cook ever.
He gave Hope a high-five, and she laughed and ran off.
“How was your first day of school?” he asked.
“Fine, busy,” she answered evasively. He didn’t need to hear that she was extremely uncomfortable and had felt under the microscope of her peers all day. He had enough on his mind with everything else in addition to providing for them.
“Any…trouble?” he asked hesitantly.
“No, none,” she replied, trying to be honest but also trying to conceal her discomfort. “Dinner will be ready in about an hour.”
“Great, sounds good,” he said but looked at her with quiet reflection.
“Hope’ll play while you shower,” she said, hoping to derail his all-knowing stare. “Then we can eat.”
“Sure,” he relented and left the kitchen.
She finished peeling the potatoes and dumped them in a deep stockpot full of water. Then she joined Hope in the living room and turned on the television. It was tuned in to cartoons, but she quickly changed the channel. She didn’t want Hope watching television shows like that all the time. She knew that Lila wanted the best for her daughter. She certainly didn’t want her daughter to grow up like her or make the same mistakes. So, Wren did the best she could with the little girl and read her books when she babysat her instead of letting her watch television.
“…and yesterday there were even more cases reported,” the newscaster with the bleach blonde hair was saying.
“Yes, there were, but let me assure you,” the man, some sort of guest on her panel, was stating, “the CDC is aware of the issue and is on top of it. No worries.”
Then it turned into an argument between four different people, and the host quickly lost control. Wren wasn’t even sure what they were talking about. She thought it might’ve been some type of discussion about a disease like the one she’d heard on the radio.
“Wren, look,” Hope announced, showing her that she dressed her doll in a new outfit.
“Yeah, good job, Hope,” she said, trying to hear what the people on the news were saying.
“Wren,” Hope repeated, wanting her full attention.
A woman on the panel, who seemed to be a doctor of some sort shouted louder than the others to be heard over them, “But you have no way of controlling this. This isn’t like any other flu…”
“Wren, Wren.”
“What?” Wren asked impatiently. Then she sighed. “Sorry, Hope. I was just trying to see what that lady on the television was saying.”
Like a typical toddler, the little girl said, completely oblivious of Wren’s desire to listen to the news, “But Wren, she pretty. Look! Look!”
Wren took the doll from her tiny, stubby fingers and inspected it as if it were the most important thing on earth. “Wow! This is so pretty! Good job!”
Hope jumped up and down with pride of her chosen outfit. The doll was now wearing red pants, a purple sweater, and an orange hat. Maybe Lila’s daughter was color blind.
“You couldn’t control the flu last year,” the woman on the news accused the first man. “What makes you think you can control this? If it hits American shores and spreads any more than it already has, we’re all screwed.”
Then they were all yelling again.
“Wren, Wren,” Hope begged again. “Play?”
“Sure, kid.”
She wanted to better understand what was going on. She had never gotten the flu shot, but maybe she should do it this year. Unfortunately, the news program went to a commercial. The panel discussion had become overbearing and too difficult to understand who was saying what anyway. Also, in predictable toddler behavior, Hope decided that playing with her toy horses was much more preferable to playing dolls and left her to tear through her toybox instead. Wren just shook her head and laughed. Oh well. She had a meal to finish.
After dinner, she helped her uncle tear the carpet out of his bedroom. The last owner had a dog. One that was apparently not well trained. His bedroom was the worst. Last weekend, they’d torn out the carpeting in her small bedroom, and he’d lain new gray carpet in there. He was pretty much capable of any sort of construction work. In the last two homes they’d stayed, he’d done multiple repairs and upgrades. That had made living in homes that weren’t in the best conditions more palatable, and they’d turned them for profits, hefty ones. This trailer would be no different, an easy, quick flip. He eventually had plans of fixing up homes and selling them as a full-time business. He was smart about flipping houses, and she’d learned a lot about fixer-uppers from him. He used to buy cheap houses in good neighborhoods back home and sell them for huge profits before he got into his current line of work. They were only going to stay in this place for less than a year. Any other amount of time would’ve been unacceptable. It was understood that they’d stay there until she was done in school, which she had planned on being finished soon after Christmas break. It was called a fast-track senior year.
“How was work?” she asked him as she helped him heft the roll of carpet into the dumpster.
“Good. I think it’ll be a long enough project that it’ll take me through the winter or so. Then we’ll be outta’ here.”
“Awesome,” she remarked, glad they got such a good lead on the job for him.
“Then it’s on to bigger and better things,” he said. “Right?”
“Yep,” she agreed with a smile as she strolled back to their trailer together.
“So, how was school, really?”
She chuckled. “Not too bad. I just kept to myself.”
“Good. Just stay focused. You don’t need a lot of distractions right now anyway.”
“I know.”
They were both silent.
“After the next move, I’ll have the money I need,” he said, although she already knew this. Her uncle always shared his big hopes and dreams with her.
“I know. That’ll be great,” she commented. “Being self-employed is going to be awesome. Being done with…everything will be great, too.”
That was their plan. She would attend college, preferably Ohio State, which she should be hearing back from the government any day on whether or not she’d have a full ride to that school or another one they placed her in. Her major was bio-medical engineering. She loved science, especially the idea of helping people by creating new drugs, discovering new cures, and studying molecular biology. She would go to Ohio State while they lived off-campus in Columbus, and he started his own house flipping business. It was going to be a new start for both of them. She just had to get through high school, and her uncle had to keep stockpiling his money to start his own house flipping business again. Her uncle would likely stay with her for a few more years, maybe less, before pursuing his own dreams.
“I really wish I could buy a few of those houses closer to your new school,” he lamented.
“Why’s that?”
“Those ones sell for a lot of money because the booster club sponsors football players for the team by buying up the houses close to the school where the families can live while their boys play for the team. The asking price for the nice ones that are updated and renovated are paid, no matter what’s asked. It would be a profitable flip. I’ve got the money to put down on buying one for cash that desperately needs repairs, but I wouldn’t have enough time to get it done before we have to leave.”
“That sucks,” she said, hating their circumstance.
He patted between her shoulder blades and said, “No worries, love,” his accent slipping. “We’ll get there soon enough.”
“I heard your accent,” she said.
He chuckled. “I always hear yours.”
“Hm,” she said with a pout, getting another chuckle.
“Our classes apparently didn’t stick,” he remarked.
“Gu
ess not,” she agreed as he opened the door to their trailer and shut it behind them, locking it with the newly installed locking system he’d put in place on the equally new steel door. “This town is so involved in high school football.”
“I know. That’s what I’m coming to find out,” he said as he checked the window locks and drew their blinds. “This is the only high school team you can bet on in Vegas.”
“Crazy. I don’t even like football,” she admitted with a single laugh and plopped with exhaustion onto the worn brown sofa.
“Well, these people do. So, I’m willing to capitalize on that by working this construction job,” he said and followed her, landing with vigor in the recliner. She was glad they didn’t have to take this ugly furniture when they left. They always stayed in furnished establishments. This set was already old and threadbare in places. He said when they moved to Columbus, Ohio, into their slightly more permanent house eventually that he’d buy all new furniture. She was hoping to pick up a part-time job at the college when they got there. It might actually be nice to make real friends and stay in one place for more than a few months. Then Jamie could move on, too.
“Yeah, it’s so weird,” she said and drank from her bottle of water. Renovations were a lot of work. “You drive through the downtown area and there are flags hanging on the lamp posts with the players’ names and jersey numbers or whatever on them. Like they’re rock stars or war heroes or something. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“I guess they’ve got the record to prove it, though. They only recruit the best. Have you seen the gym where they work out?”
“Yes, because I’m such a gym rat,” she joked and tried to make a muscle with her bicep curled, getting a soft chuckle in return.
