by A. M. Rose
I grab the shoebox, shoes, and protective bag they should be in, and put them away, tucking the card back inside. When the stack is as perfect as it was when I came in here, I keep searching.
The more I look, the more I find nothing. Not just nothing about the adoption but anything at all. Aside from Mom’s wedding band that she’s always kept in a box next to her bed, she doesn’t have anything personal. No old yearbooks. Or ratty T-shirts from concerts she went to when she was younger. Aside from the shoes, no sappy cards from Dad or old boyfriends. She literally has nothing.
How am I supposed to ask Mom about me, when she doesn’t even seem to know herself?
The next stop is Mom’s home office. This room looks nothing like the rest of the house. I’ve always hated coming in here. It’s all sharp lines and pristine surfaces. A sleek black desk with a glass top sits in the center of the room. Her chair is in front of the window so she doesn’t even look outside when she’s in here. And her view is one of the best. It overlooks the backyard, with all the flowers and the vegetable garden. After an hour, I’m in no better place than where I started.
I’d hoped this searching would have told me something about me. Tell me who I really am, or what I’m changing into. But the weird painting in their bedroom, and random books on the shelves that don’t stick to any one genre or topic if they’re not medical books or research, leave my head spinning more than it was when I started.
I spend the rest of the day upstairs in the safety of my own room, my own things around me. I’m online, hunched over my laptop, researching adoption agencies in the area. There aren’t many, but without more information, like my birth parents’ last name or the date of my adoption, I can’t proceed further. Looking up car accidents that involved children is useless. Mom didn’t even say it was a car accident—just an accident. And she didn’t say exactly how old I was, only that I was about five when I came to them, or if my birth parents were dead. I find nothing. Nada. I bury my face in my pillow and scream until my throat is dry. I need more information from Mom. But she’s never around. It’s such bullshit. How am I ever going to figure any of this out? I’m ready to throw my laptop across the room. Watch it break into a million pieces, but that isn’t going to help either.
With my searching going exactly nowhere, I head downstairs in search of sustenance. I should’ve let Dylan bring me lunch. I’m rummaging through the pantry for a snack when Mom comes into the kitchen. I linger for a moment and listen to her grab something from the cabinet and then the rattle of the coffee thermos, probably pouring herself a cup. Before I can grab a protein bar, she’s already pulled a huge file from her briefcase and has her nose buried deep inside. Still, it’s the first time I’ve really seen her seen her.
“What was the name of the agency?” I keep my voice light, conversational, even though I’m dying to get some answers.
Mom digs inside her briefcase. “Agency for what?”
“The adoption agency.” I take a bite of my protein bar. A small nibble off the corner.
She grabs the coffee cup in front of her. R2D2. Dad’s favorite. She hesitates, then brings it to her lips but doesn’t take a sip, and gently sets it down. “It was a private adoption.” Flip, flip, flip, goes the pages in a book she opened on the counter.
I bang the lid to the garbage, hoping to get Mom’s attention, but she doesn’t look up. I toss the wrapper to my bar inside. “Okay…how about the lawyer’s name?”
Mom keeps reading the thick file in her hand. “I don’t remember.”
I let out a huff. “Well, maybe if you’d stop trying to do a hundred things at once, you could.”
She gives me the say-one-more-thing-and-you’re-in-deep-trouble look. “I have a patient dying right now, so I’m sorry if I seem a little preoccupied.” The dark circles under her eyes and smudged mascara confirms her statement.
That shuts me up. Like always. I’m not about to get grounded, all weekend. I could seriously use the break. All this stuff going on is enough to give me a migraine for life. So I need a little time with my best friend.
Dylan and I are cool again. And we already have plans to go out tomorrow night.
So forget Mom. At least for now.
Chapter Fourteen
On Saturday, I spend most of the day in my room, not that I’m trying to avoid Mom, I’m just trying to avoid arguing with her. Dylan should be here soon, and we’re hitting a movie before we go eat the best burgers in Southern California. My stomach growls just thinking about them. I should probably start getting ready, although going out in my yoga pants doesn’t sound like a half-bad idea, except no pockets. There’s that. I peel myself out of bed and go to throw my hair up in a messy bun.
“You really should wear your hair down.” Mom stands in my doorway. Her hands are relaxed at her sides, not clenching a file, and her lips are turned up, not hidden by the page of some book.
I hesitate. Mom never shows up at my room to give commentary on my style, or my lack of style. Messy bun is my go-to look. Is this a mother/daughter moment, or something else? I pull my hair down.
“Much better.” Her tone is softer, brighter than normal, and that grin grows a little more. “Also, I thought you might like something new to wear tonight.” She picks up a bag that she must’ve had sitting outside my door and gently sets it on my unmade bed. She doesn’t scowl at how the blanket is half on, half off, and pools on the floor.
“You didn’t have to do that.” Not that I’m not grateful. I am. Mom and I don’t exactly have the same style. The bag is from my favorite store, but that doesn’t mean I’ll like what’s inside, and she’s standing here, so I’m going to have to wear whatever it is. There’ll be no fighting about it. Unless it doesn’t fit. Oh, please don’t let it fit.
“I know you and I have had our moments recently, so I thought it would be nice.” She smiles fully and it seems sincere. It makes me want to take back what I just said, change it to a simple thank you and leave it at that. “Now go put it on. I want to see.” She sits in my desk chair, ankles crossed and tucked behind her, hands folded in her lap. Her pantsuit is pressed to perfection, and in my room she looks completely out of place.
“I was going to clean it up before I left.” Throw it all in the closet and straighten out the duvet, but same thing.
She waves her hand like she’s waving away the idea.
I smile, grab the bag, and duck into the bathroom. Skinny jeans, a dark gray sequined top, and black riding boots are what I find. My smile’s even bigger now. It’s definitely not something I would’ve picked out for myself, but it’s actually pretty cute. And it fits. Perfectly. I step out of the bathroom, do a slow spin, and tuck my hands in my back pockets.
Mom is exactly where I left her, hands still folded. “You look beautiful.” She stands, walks toward me, and reaches out, like she might be thinking about hugging me. But she hesitates and instead squeezes my arm. A little of the warmth I have for her fades, but there’s still a glow. The clothes, they’re a nice gesture. And it’s extra nice that she’s trying. Mom’s been through a lot; maybe I should try, too.
“Thanks, Mom,” I say shyly. “They’re great.”
She nods. “Dylan will be here soon, so you should finish getting ready. That’s for you, too.” She points to another small bag sitting on my bed. The cover isn’t on the floor anymore, and the pillows are all lined up.
I peer inside the shiny black-and-white bag. A new NAKED pallet and some other makeup essentials fill it. “Wow. You didn’t have to…” I stop myself. “This is amazing.” Now it’s me who wants to hug her, and so I squeeze her tight. Her blonde hair is like silk against my cheek, and she smells like rubbing alcohol and baby powder.
Her arms reach around me, and her hands lay gently on my back. They’re warm and feel nice. “You’re welcome.” She pulls away and walks out of my room, shutting the door behind her.
She isn’t Dad. And her ways are so totally different, but it’s nice to know she cares.
I do another slow turn. Top sparkling. Fancy designs on the back pockets of my jeans. Not exactly cover model. Wait. I stop and stare. What am I thinking? It’s too much. I don’t even look like myself. I can’t go out like this. I’m ready to strip down and jump in the shower when there’s a tap on my bedroom door and it cracks open.
“Your mom said to come up. Are you decent?” Dylan speaks from the hallway.
I guess that depends on your definition of decent. “Yeah. Technically.”
He pushes the door open all the way. His eyes grow wide. “Wow! I was looking for Drea.” Dylan walks in wearing khakis and a simple white T-shirt. Like it took him all of ten seconds to get ready and still heads will be turning when he walks by. Guys have it so much easier. “Alexandrea Smith. Do you know where I can find her?”
I roll my eyes. “Very funny.” I check out the girl in the mirror one more time. This looks like effort. Maybe too much effort, and no girl wants to look like she’s trying so hard. “I think I’m going to change. I look ridiculous…don’t I?”
Dylan walks over and stands so close I’m wrapped in his scent. It’s spicy with a touch of clean laundry. His hair is still wet and hangs carelessly across his forehead, tempting me to brush it away. Especially when he tucks my hair behind my ear and his fingers trail down the length of it and gently brush against my waist. My heart does a somersault. God, his lashes are incredibly long.
“I think you look great.” He leans in closer, his jaw grazes my cheek, and it’s hard to breathe. “You even smell good.”
Heat rushes to my face. “What’s that supposed to mean? I normally smell bad?” I step away and lift my arms to smell under each one.
“No—no, you normally…smell fine.” He runs his hand through his hair and stares at the floor. “I just mean you just smell more like a girl—is all.” He messes with his car keys.
Besides makeup, the bag also had some perfume in it. Mom picked out the perfect scent. It’s light and flowery, not overpowering like the stuff she wears when she doesn’t have to work.
“Come on, we’re gonna be late. Let’s just go.” He picks up my camera from my desk, knowing it goes everywhere I do.
I grab my phone and throw it in my back pocket, glancing in the mirror one last time. A whole new Drea stares back at me. It’s fitting really, seeing how much my life has been changing; maybe it’s time I change, too. “Fine, let’s get out of here.” I glance back at Dylan who quickly looks away. The sensation from his stubble sliding across my cheek is still fresh in my mind.
His eyes slide back my way, but he doesn’t turn his head and that goofy smile grows. I wonder if this new Drea will have the guts to do something about that.
Chapter Fifteen
Once the movie is over, we make the long trek out for dinner. It isn’t exactly close, but it’s totally worth the trip. A pile of aluminum siding and old palettes is crammed together to form Max’s burger joint. The decrepit building is deceiving, with its chipping paint, student lawn art, and overly colorful Dumpster. The delicious smell of meat cooking smacks me in the face and makes my stomach roar. The parking lot is completely packed, people making their own spaces where spaces aren’t even there, which isn’t surprising. What Max’s lacks in style it makes up for in taste. They have the best burgers, shakes, and fries. Not surprising, since they’re the only things on the menu. And I purposely didn’t gorge myself on popcorn, just so I could enjoy this.
We abandon the idea of waiting for a parking space. Dylan pulls up half on the curb and half on the grass a few blocks away. I don’t even care about the hike. These boots were made for walking. And I’m ready to eat. My mouth should have a sign over it: insert food here.
I snag us a small table out in the front lawn, next to some giant papier-mâché-looking wildebeest, just as some other people are leaving, and Dylan goes up to order for us. I don’t even have to tell him what I want.
The dull roar of conversations and the greasy smell of fries surround me as I use a napkin to wipe off the remnants of the last people’s meal and check out the creature to my left. It’s actually pretty impressive, they’ve painted it so well it looks like there’s real fur, and its snarling face and long fingernails make it look extra scary. It has to be at least four times the size of me. I definitely wouldn’t want to come across the thing in the day or night, or anything its size for that matter.
Dylan comes back with two chocolate shakes, two cheeseburgers, and a pound of the best fries on earth. He slides the tray in the middle of the table. I take a long inhale, my mouth ready to sink in to that soft, golden bun. He shoves a few fries in his mouth before his butt even hits the chair. Then we eat. Bite after bite, without a single word traveling between us.
He leans back in the chair, legs stretched out for days in front of him, showing off his favorite pair of Sperry’s.
When my stomach is satisfied, I lick ketchup from my fingertips. Even the ketchup here is the best. “I can’t believe you thought you’d tricked me into seeing a dudeflick when it was really a romance in disguise.”
“That was some serious BS. The trailers were all huge explosions and stuff. I want my money back.” He tries to sound like he’s angry and disappointed, but he was laughing right along with everyone else in that theatre. “The ending was good though.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, I get to pick the next…” I can’t finish. My mouth drops open.
Maddox strides in from the parking lot and marches up to the counter.
Dylan whips around before I have a chance to say anything. “Did you invite him here?”
“What? No!” I can’t believe he would think I’d do such a thing. He knows this is our spot. Our special place.
“Then what’s he doing here ?”
I shrug, but I’m wondering the same thing. Maddox grabs his order and spots us in the crowd. Waves his hand above his head, like we were looking for him. I guess we are staring, but we weren’t looking. I definitely wasn’t looking.
“Guess we’ll find out. He’s coming this way.” Dylan picks up an extra-long fry and breaks it in half.
I narrow my eyes at Maddox as he makes his way toward us. “Maybe he’s meeting someone.” I can’t imagine who. Max’s is the best place for burgers, but no one from our school would take the long trip out here to get them. So how would he know about this place? It’s not like Guy Fieri has been here or something. And we aren’t exactly in the nicest of neighborhoods.
“Who told you guys about this place?” Maddox seems surprised to see us as he sets his tray on our table.
Dylan grabs his milkshake. “Funny, we were about to ask you the same thing.” His tone is light, friendly even. Maybe they really did works things out.
“We found this place a while back.” I wink at Dylan. He grins back, telling me he believes I didn’t tell Maddox. “Are you here with someone?” I check around and no one else seems to be heading our way.
Maddox pulls a chair up to our table and sits. Dylan gives me the okay-what-now look and I shrug. This is completely unexpected, and I’m not really sure what to think. Maddox doesn’t witness our silent conversation; he’s pulled out his phone and is texting. The bruise on his hand from the other day is purply green.
Maddox notices me staring and flexes his hand. “Still a little sore,” he says. “I’m glad yours is better.” He inspects my face a bit closer.
Dylan and I exchange a quick look. I watched a makeup tutorial online so I could fake a black eye
. But today I didn’t bother. After all, it was supposed to just be Dylan and me hanging out. I touch my eye. “It’s a lot better. Plus…primer, concealer, foundation… That helped.”
He nods. “I almost forgot.” Maddox reaches into the pocket of his jacket. “I got you this.” He hands me a flash drive. “It’s the new New Language album. Not even released yet.”
I eye the item in his hand, almost afraid to reach for it, or it might disappear. New music. Stuff no one else has ever heard. “No way!” I snatch it out of his hand and hold it to my chest before shoving the drive deep in my pocket so I won’t lose it. Okay, cool. Very cool. But still there’s something nagging at the back of my mind. “Are you meeting—”
“So what are you guys up to tonight?” Maddox asks Dylan.
Dylan swirls a fry in his ketchup. “We went and saw that movie Stowaways.”
Maddox unwraps his burger. “And…”
“Don’t waste your money.” Dylan flashes me the don’t-you-dare look, and I take a bite of my burger to stop myself from laughing. “So, how did you hear about this place?” Dylan’s brow arches up.
“Online. Did you know it’s like one of the top ten burger spots in all of California?” Maddox sounds thoroughly impressed.
“Yep,” Dylan and I say together, and now we both laugh.
My gaze shifts between Maddox and Dylan as they start talking about sports. Which team is the best, who is going all the way, blah, blah, blah. Looking at them now, you wouldn’t be able to tell that just a few days ago they were ready to rip each other’s heads off.
Boys are so weird.
Burger wrappers and empty milkshake cups are all that’s left on the table as the place empties out. One of the workers, a tall guy with giant gages in his ears and tattoos all the way up both arms in a tie-dyed shirt wipes down tables, collecting the trash people left behind. He bobs his head to music only he can hear, since there isn’t any playing out loud.
