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Ted Saves the World

Page 13

by Bryan Cohen


  Chapter 13

  Jennifer Norris looked through her fifth grade yearbook as she iced her knee. Her leg was propped up on a pink pillow as her back rested flat against her headboard. The fairy princess colors and decor of her room had been consistent since she was a third grader. Even though her father and stepmother offered to make it more modern, she said she didn't mind the trip down memory lane. Erica had always mocked her and put on a little kid voice whenever she'd entered the room.

  Jennifer blamed herself for Erica's disappearance. As the wet blanket of the group, it was her responsibility to keep things from getting out of control. When Erica would suggest going skinny-dipping in a private pool, Jennifer would find a location that wasn't illegal. When Erica wanted to shoot off fireworks in the backyard, she would find the only person in town who actually knew how to use them safely. She wondered if she had pushed too far by never letting her friend get quite what she wanted. In the months leading up to her disappearance, Erica had cut off almost all contact with her. She didn't even know the name of the guy Erica was seeing before she was gone. She could have blamed field hockey season or the fact that she couldn't be there at every waking moment, but instead, she blamed herself.

  Jennifer stopped on the picture of Erica. She practically had the page memorized. Erica sported an elaborate braid and a coy look. It was the Erica she remembered meeting during the summer between fourth and fifth grade. Jennifer's cousin Winny invited Erica to the Jersey Shore with the family. The three of them continued to hang out during the next school year. At least, they hung out when Erica wasn't playing with her neighbor best friend.

  Jennifer felt a pinch in her knee and pulled it toward her stomach in a stretch.

  She'd gone knee-to-knee with Natalie, the team captain, during a Saturday morning practice. Natalie looked down at her as if the injury was an inconvenience to her for a few seconds until she helped her off the field.

  "You good?" Natalie asked on the sidelines.

  "I should be asking you," Jennifer said with a wince. "You're growling more than usual."

  Natalie responded with a growl.

  "Boy troubles."

  Jennifer heard the front door close. She unwrapped the bandage and took off the ice pack before hobbling off the bed and hopping into the hallway on her good leg. As she peered over the landing, she saw her father staring straight ahead in the foyer for a few seconds before he took off his sheriff's hat.

  "Hey, Dad, I'm up here."

  His look upstairs was delayed. It was as if something was keeping him from going at normal speed.

  "Hey honey. Can you come downstairs?"

  Jennifer was happy to get out of her room for a little while. She'd been cooped up all day long. Her coach told her she wouldn't play in the game on Wednesday unless she took proper care of her injury, but a little break wouldn't cause much issue. She gripped the bannister going down and did her best pirate impression. She hopped all the way into the kitchen.

  "What's up, Dad?"

  He poured two glasses of milk and set one down in his daughter's usual spot before sitting in the chair across from her. Jennifer continued to hop until she got to her chair. Her knee began to throb as much as it had when she first woke up that morning.

  "How's your knee?" he asked.

  "Angry," she said. "You seem serious and out of it."

  He shook some cobwebs loose.

  "Good assessment. Honey, I found Erica today."

  Jennifer nearly knocked over her milk. The emotion came over her fast and tears welled up immediately.

  "She was OK, right?"

  "She's alive and well."

  Jennifer couldn't tell if that made her want to cry more or less. When the first tears came, they were joyful ones.

  "That's amazing, Dad. You really are the best. I bet you gave her a stern talking to."

  The sheriff pursed his lips in thought.

  "I... I'm not sure what I said when I found her. It's been a weird day. It's like I don't remember getting from point A to point B."

  "You're getting old, Dad."

  He nudged his daughter’s shoulder.

  "I'm only a hundred."

  "And you don't look a day over 99. Can I call her?"

  He nodded. Jennifer ignored the pain in her knee and walked over to her dad, giving him the biggest bear hug she could muster. Her cellphone was all the way back upstairs, but she made the trip quickly enough, given her condition. When she got through to her friend, the first thing she did was scream.

  "You're not dead!"

  Erica laughed.

  "Apparently not. It's a good thing your dad found me."

  "So, you've dropped your 'all people over the age of 30 are terrible' stance?"

  "I'm granting exclusions for certain individuals."

  Jennifer smiled. She had so many questions to ask. It had been too long of a build-up.

  "You had us so worried."

  There was a pause on the other line.

  "I'm sorry."

  It took Jennifer a moment to notice that her mouth was hanging open. She didn't know the word "sorry" was even in Erica's vocabulary. Something had changed. She hoped whatever it was would keep her friend from leaving town ever again.

  "It's OK," Jennifer said. "Do you want to talk about it?"

  "No. Not now at least. Thanks for calling, Jen. Thanks for caring."

  Jennifer said her goodbyes and hung up. She let her head fall back onto the mattress.

  "She's weird. But running away would make anyone weird. Right?"

  She rolled over onto her stomach to see her wall of old photos. She was one of the only people she knew who still liked to get pictures printed out. It was more of her sentimentality bubbling to the surface. There were at least five pictures of Erica on her wall, and one in particular caught her eye. She moved closer to it.

  It was from a fall carnival day in fifth grade. She was wearing a ridiculous pair of overalls, while Erica looked pretty in pink. Between the two of them was a boy with a confused smile wearing baggy jeans. Erica had her arm around the boy and the biggest smile on her face any kid could ever give. The boy was Ted Finley.

  "Growing up is stupid," she said, propping some pillows underneath her achy knee and letting her mind drift to simpler times gone by.

 

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