by Amy Sparling
Grandma ignores me from the couch as I fumble around the kitchen, looking into the pantry and fridge for something to eat. There's a ton of food here, but nothing looks appetizing. I stare into the fridge until I start to feel woozy from standing. A jar of grandma's homemade pickles beckons to me and I grab it, my mouth watering at the thought of pickle juice.
I sit at the table eating pickles off a fork stabbed straight into the jar. A doorbell rings and at first I think it comes from the TV, but then Grandma gets up and answers the door.
From my place in the kitchen, I can see Grandma's back but not the person at the door.
"Bayleigh left these at my house yesterday." It's Jace' voice.
"Who are you?" Grandma asks. It doesn't sound hostile but it isn't very friendly either.
"I'm Jace Adams, ma'am. I live next door." I smirk while chewing my pickles. He sounds so polite and proper like how Ian used to talk to my mom. Guys are so good at faking manners.
"She's sick but I'll be sure to give it to her." The door closes and I stand up from the kitchen table using my hands to push me out of my chair. I'm still woozy. Grandpa's cowboy boots stomp down the stairs. It's louder and faster than usual and stops me from leaving the kitchen.
"Why was that kid here?" he demands. Grandma says, "He was bringing Bayleigh's movies back." He follows her into the kitchen where she sets my DVDs on the table next to me. She smiles, not at all fazed about Grandpa leering over her shoulder and returns to the couch. Grandpa stays, standing in front of me, arms crossed. I slowly put the lid on the pickle jar, tightening it longer than necessary hoping he will leave.
"Why the hell did that boy have your things?" Grandpa's eye's were locked on mine. His wrinkled face normally looked like he was frowning but right now he had on a real frown.
Disappointed and angry, it made his normal face seem jolly.
"I left it at his house when we watched a movie," I say, looking at the movie case and not at Grandpa whose grimace was growing more frightening every second.
"You are not allowed to associate with him."
"He's a nice guy," I protest.
"He wrecked his grandfather's land. He's probably wrecking the house too," Grandpa's finger points at me. "And you are not to see him." His weathered finger points sternly in my face. He turns to leave and I mutter under my breath, "That's stupid." Immediately, I regret it.
Grandpa stops, turns on his heel and walks back to me. I cower in my chair. His eyes are so dark they appear to be black. "Your Grandma may be fooled, but I know why you are here. You're grounded because you can't behave for your mother. And I am not-" he pauses until I glance up at him, "-going to put up with it."
Chapter 10
The deep growl of Jace's dirt bike fills the air. I had woken up to the sound, eaten breakfast and lunch to the sound and now as I stare at the ceiling, I fear I will be driven mad by the sound. He's really riding hard today, hell-bent on mastering a new jump he constructed with the bulldozer late last night. It was twice as long as the house and the pile of dirt that launched him in the air was at least twenty feet tall.
I roll over on my bed – Mom's bed – and trace the stitches on the antique quilt I'm laying on with my finger. Still humiliated and awkward from the talk with Grandpa last night, I had left my room as little as possible today. And there wasn't a damn thing to do in this room besides break more snow globes, a last resort I was close to taking.
All I can think about is Jace. His toned chest covered in sweat, his chuckle at the funny parts in movies, everything. Even his longer than usual nerdy shaped face and the hair that was constantly in his eyes. It was all cute to me and I miss it and want to be hanging out with him right now. I don't want to be thinking about the Ian rumors, or my friends, or wondering how many Facebook messages are unread on my computer back at home.
Jace's bike zooms over the jump again. Though I can't see it from my position on the bed, I've memorize the rhythm of motor sounds. This is so unhealthy. Teenagers are supposed to be active, not lazy. I'm more exhausted now than I've ever been at home and I haven't broken a sweat in days. I'm not much of a runner, but maybe I should go for a jog.
My Chuck Taylors substitute for running shoes and I hadn't packed a sports bra so my jog will be a bit painful. But I don't care – I need to get out of the house and running is the only thing to do when you didn't have a car or friends or a freaking life.
I sprint out of the house without saying bye to Grandma on the couch or Grandpa outside tending to his garden. It’s a little past noon so the hot summer sun threatens to drench me in sweat by the time I reach the end of the street. I jog slowly, wanting to get as far away from the house as possible but knowing from gym class last year that I only have a mile or so until my legs give out. I've never been one for staying in shape.
Jace's dirt bike is now a distant hum among the other sounds of summer in this sad town. Two dogs compete in a bark-off to my right and to my left an old lady on a tractor mows her yard. All of these people are so old. Jace and I are probably the only teenagers for miles and I'm not even allowed to hang out with him.
When I reach the stop sign, I stop. My chest is tight as I pant for air. My calves ache and my heels probably have blisters on them. Soaked in sweat, I curse myself for not bringing a bottle of water. There's two dollars in the pocket of my shorts and a gas station is down the road to my left. How far – I don't know. I hadn't paid attention when Grandpa drove past it but I was pretty sure it was closer than it would be to jog back to the house plus I don't really give a shit because my plan was to stay away from my moth ball-scented room as long as possible.
Tired of running, I walk along the road for a while. It’s a main road, with asphalt and real painted stripes unlike the gravel one-car-width thing that is my grandparent's street.
And although this is a four-lane road, not one car passes me the whole time. I would never walk the streets back at home – there were so many people passing through from the ghetto to the big city that I would be mugged or ran over before I'd even walked twenty feet.
Though I had hoped a jog would help, walking on this desolate road made me feel even more alone. I have never been somewhere for so long without at least my cell phone to keep me company. With it, I could text my friends, check my email, play games. Without it I am truly, completely alone. I miss home. I even miss my brother.
The gas station isn't exciting. Of course, there's not a single customer in the store. A haggard old stoner watches court shows on a thirteen-inch television behind the counter.
He doesn't even look at me when I walk inside. It smells like a musty old attic and I end up coughing a few times before I get to the coolers. I grab a bottle of water from the far back of the rack so it's as cold as possible, and plunk it on the counter.
"Just a second, sweetheart," he says, waiting to hear the judge's ruling. It’s a divorce case, and the wife was an unfaithful homemaker who wants to keep the Porsche.
There's a magazine rack to my left and I pick up a celebrity gossip magazine, wishing I had the money to buy it. I wonder if he would even notice if I stole it. I flip through the glossy pages and then put it back on the shelf. A dirt bike magazine next to it catches my eye. I flip through this one as well and get grossed out because almost every page has a hot chick in a bikini straddling a dirt bike. But now I see why Jace wears those funny pants when he rides – it's all part of the protective gear they wear.
I flip pages until I see one without a seductive blonde and when I do, it's a page way more interesting than a pair of boobs. Jace's mug shot stares at me among a collage of other photos of him racing and holding trophies. Mesmerized, I read the title: LESSON LEARNED
– HAS JACE ADAM'S JAIL TIME FINALLY HIT HOME?
"It’s a dollar-fifty nine, unless you're buying the magazine too," the cashier says, now magically awakened from his TV coma.
"No, sorry," I say, closing the magazine and replacing it on the shelf. I fish out my dollar bills and lay
them on the counter, then open the water bottle and gulp from it. He hands me my change and tells me to have a nice day. I have no choice but to leave the store, lost in curiosity over the article I didn't get to read.
I decide to walk the entire way home. My heels feel raw against the back of my shoes with each step I take and at one point a bird actually craps on my toe. I guess I should be happy that the white poopy mess didn't land anywhere else on my body, but still – it's just another way mother nature is laughing in my face.
When I'm close enough to see my grandparent's house in the distance, I notice a red car driving eerily slow behind me. It's probably not a big deal, and the chances of someone jumping out of the car and kidnapping me are minimal, but my subconscious starts to get nervous. The car rolls to a stop. I dare to glance over at it. It’s a newer model red Chevy Malibu and I can't imagine any creepy psycho murderer driving a soccer mom car like that, so I stop walking and stare at the dark tinted windows for some sign of life.
The driver's side window rolls down, and it's Jace. My fear disappears instantly, only to be replaced by anxiety that Grandpa will somehow know I am talking to the enemy.
"Need a ride?" His hand reaches out the window and taps the side of the car door. My muscles tighten at the thought of riding with someone who was in jail, but the aching in my feet beg me to accept so I sprint for the passenger door.
"Thanks," I say, turning the air conditioning vent toward my face and leaning in so close that my nose touches it. He wasn't in jail for very long, so it couldn't have been for something bad. I'm immersed in the smell of new car and crinkly protective paper covers the floor boards. It really doesn't make sense that Jace would drive a car as nerdy as this one. "Nice car."
"It’s a rental." He taps the dashboard like it's his pride and joy. "Yep, this baby was the cheapest model available, and she's mine for the whole summer."
Laughing, I say, "You're not going to pick up any girls with a ride this lame."
"I've already picked up one girl in it." My head snaps away from the vent in just enough time to see him wink at me and I get dizzy – either from the head snapping or the wink, I'm not sure.
In only thirty seconds of conversation, we arrive at my driveway. The road is much shorter when being driven by a guy who races for a living than by Grandpa who always seems to drive below the speed limit. I tell Jace to keep going and drop me off in his driveway. He does what I ask, but not without giving me a confused look.
"Your grandpa doesn't like me, huh?" We pull into his driveway and come to a stop beside his shed. I nod, not knowing how else to answer his question. Sitting in a parked car always makes for awkward conversations.
"He's never said a word to me, but he's always glaring at me and shit," he says.
"He doesn't really like anyone, actually," I say. He raises an eyebrow like he doesn't believe me. "Fine, he doesn't like you because you're messing up the yard and he thinks it's disrespectful to your dead grandfather."
"Ah." He looks at Grandpa's yard for a moment and I fear he plans on marching over there and causing a riot. But instead, he sighs and says, "Fair enough."
Chapter 11
With sore muscles from my stupid run earlier, I crash on the couch and thank god the local TV station is playing a marathon of a show I actually enjoy. Soap operas and court TV
shows get really old after a while.
Even after a hot shower and three hours of television, I can't get Ian off my mind. I feel like an idiot because I knew we weren't officially dating. He had made that perfectly clear.
But he didn't have to lead me on like that if he was just going to drop me for some skank he met at a party.
I can't believe I sent him that cell phone picture of myself. A cold chill runs down my spine. What if he sent it to other people? I don't want the guys at my school seeing that.
Ugh, I am so stupid. Suddenly getting back home for the first day of school doesn't sound so great anymore.
The marathon ends at midnight, and I finally drag myself from the couch to my room upstairs. A moving orange glow catches my eye from the window. I head to the balcony and peer out of it, finding a bonfire in Jace's back yard, Jace sitting in front of it in a lawn chair.
He's staring into the fire, his eyes somewhere far away.
I don't know his story, but it sure seems a lot worse than mine. Sure, I'm stuck here with no friends and nothing to do, but my life is boring. He is a somebody where he's from.
He's in magazines. And now he looks like the loneliest person on earth.
I lean against the balcony railing, watching him under the moonlight. Even the back of his head is sexy. What is wrong with me? I can't start liking someone immediately after getting over someone else. And yet, it happens.
As if he can read my mind, I watch in horror as Jace's head turns toward me, his eyes squinting to see in the dark. I press my back against the outside of the house, not knowing if he can see me in the darkness.
"You out there?" he calls out in my direction.
Embarrassment floods through me. How did he know I was standing here? Does he think I'm spying on him? I take a step forward, leaning over the balcony railing. "Yes," I say.
"I just walked out…I wasn't here long or anything."
He motions toward the fire. "Come on down. I could use the company."
I sneak out of the house, which doesn't require much work because my grandparents sleep like the rocks, and cross the grass into Jace's yard. I sit in an empty chair next to him and he nods a hello. Classic rock music plays from an Ipad in his lap.
"This bonfire could use some marshmallows," I say after an awkward amount of silence has gone by.
He smiles, taking out his cell phone from his pocket. "I'll remember that for next time."
I watch his eyebrows draw together as he reads a text on his phone and then types out a reply.
More awkward silent minutes pass, and I start to wonder why he bothered inviting me over if he didn't want to talk. All he's doing is texting. He didn't text at all when we watched a movie together. "You okay?" I ask. "You're being super quiet."
He shrugs. "I'm fine. I'm just…I don't know."
I lean forward in my chair. "You might as well let it out. It's not like you have anyone else to talk to." I glance at the phone in his hand. "Well, anyone who's physically here."
He turns toward me, studying my face. The muscles in his jaw flex. He slides the phone back in his pocket. "I'm not gonna babble on like some kind of child," he says, taking a stick and poking at the fire. "But, if you have to know, I guess you could just say I've totally ruined my life. I'm stuck. I don’t know where to go from here."
"You're eighteen," I say. "Your life isn't over yet. Just like how I know my life isn't technically over, but it sure feels like it."
He drops the stick and leans back in his chair. "What's so bad about your life?" he asks in a condescending tone.
"Well for starters I'm stuck here all summer. Do I even need to go on?"
He snorts. "Please do."
I suck in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm stuck here all summer without my friends, I'm grounded from everything including my phone which is killing me, and my sort of boyfriend just officially became my not-boyfriend."
He lifts an eyebrow. "Sort of boyfriend? How is that a thing? Did he ask you to be his sort of girlfriend?"
I shake my head. "Screw you. I don't want to talk about it."
His phone beeps again, but he ignores it. "How did you get grounded?"
I cross my arms and stare into the fire. "I don't want to talk about that either."
"Okay I'll go." Jace pops the knuckles on his left hand and then his right. "I just lost a two million dollar contract over a fucking girl."
My mouth falls open. He continues. "I had just signed to ride with a factory sponsorship when I lost it all because I got thrown in jail. My agent says there's no way in hell they will give me the contract again now that I'm out. Apparently motocr
oss is a family sport and they don't think my bad attitude fits in with the family vibe."
I picture the magazine article in the gas station. I knew he was a big deal if he's in magazines, but I had no idea he was a two million dollar big deal. "Wait," I say. "How does a girl play into this?"
"I was in jail for four months on an assault charge," he says somberly, ignoring a phone beep once again.
My heart races as I try to ask the question I'm thinking but no words come out of my mouth. Jace doesn't seem like he's a violent person…but what if he is? "Did you…" I start, unable to make myself finish the sentence. Beat up your girlfriend?
With a sigh, Jace takes out his phone again and skims through all the messages he ignored. My heart aches, wishing I had my own phone back. I have no idea how people survived before phones existed.
"He was a guy I raced with, and he pissed me off. He got what he deserved."
"Did you hurt him?"
He stares at me, unwilling to answer. "Oh my god," I say. "What'd you do to him?"
He waves his hand through the air. "He was fine. I just taught him a lesson." He throws his head back and stares at the night sky. A laugh escapes him. "At least I thought I taught him a lesson. He may have fucked my girlfriend but in the end, I'm the one who got fucked."
"I'm sorry," I say, feeling like I'm intruding on his very private emotions. I shouldn't have asked him to talk. He lifts his hands and covers his face, dragging them slowly through his hair. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was holding back tears. "She never should have done that to you."
He looks at me. "No, she shouldn't. But he knew what he was doing. I was his competition, and he got rid of me." He shrugs his shoulders in defeat. "Smart guy."
I kick at the small bits of firewood near my feet. "So when you got out of jail you banished yourself to Salt Gap, Texas."
Jace nods. "I've owned the place for a year or so. I never came out to see it because I was too busy. I never understood why a man I'd never met would leave me everything he owned…but maybe he knew I'd need it someday."
