The Pace

by Shelena Shorts

  My mom was much more done up. She was wearing black capri pants, too, but she had on a teal satin shirt, with a gold chain around her waist, earrings, and a ton of bracelets. It was a far cry from her medical coat and scrubs.

  It wasn’t long before I figured out that we were headed to San Francisco.

  She took me to a seafood restaurant with panoramic views of the bay. It was definitely not a place where we could’ve eaten in jeans, and the entrées were way more expensive than anywhere we usually ate. I really felt she was going overboard, so I told her again.

  “Mom, this really isn’t necessary.”

  “Sophie, you’re my only daughter. I want you to have a nice birthday. My little girl is growing up. It’s a big deal.”

  I felt a little uncomfortable. She went out of her way to make me happy, and I worried about what she would be like when I moved out. I couldn’t picture her by herself, but I pushed it out of mind for the time being and shifted my attention to the menu.

  It was a bit extravagant. I didn’t understand half of what was on it. I ordered the only familiar sounding thing they had for my entrée, which was their Rock Cod Whole Fried Fish. The menu said it was their own fish and chips, and I liked fish and French fries, so I thought it was a safe choice. Then they brought it out to me, and it was staring at me, literally.

  I didn’t realize that whole fish actually meant whole fish. I was in shock looking at the little guy sitting on my plate all fried up. My mom started laughing, but I didn’t find it funny. I was not about to eat something that was looking at me. She quickly offered to take the fish and gave me some of her lobster tail, which I ate with my fries. It was very good, and it made me full. But, not too full to start in on the triple-layer chocolate cake and vanilla ice cream that was waiting for us when we got home.

  The next morning, it was official. My senior year had started. I turned on my computer and logged into my school homepage. All of my classes were listed on the main screen. I clicked on each, one by one, and printed the course syllabus and assignment checklist. Then, I worked my way through each class’s typical Day 1 assignments, which usually consisted of posting something about me on the discussion board and responding to another classmate’s posting. It was an attempt to get the students in the class to interact. In a traditional school, it would be like the teacher making a student stand in front of the class to introduce himself and reveal his hobbies, and then randomly forcing another student to verbally respond to the presentation.

  It was completely ridiculous, but teachers were able to get away with it online, because there wasn’t the complete embarrassment factor. Luckily for all of us, we didn’t have to actually stand up in front of a class, but it was still awkward. “Hi, my name is Sophie, and I’m a senior. I like listening to music and reading on my deck.”

  Then, I could always count on a classmate’s reply. “Cool. I’m a senior, too. I like music, too.” I did that for all six classes. When I was done “introducing” myself, I opened up each course, found another classmate’s posting that no one had replied to yet, and said what everyone else says: “Cool. Nice to meet you. I’m a senior, too.” Then, I moved on.

  I went right to my assignment checklists for the whole semester. I could see every assignment, when it was due, and I could start them as soon as I wanted. Surprisingly, I had a lot due that week. The 12th grade was looking like it was going to be a bear. I grabbed my Zune and lay on my bed listening to my favorite playlist until I felt motivated to start it all. It took about an hour for the motivation to kick in, but eventually, it did.

  By the following week, I had a regular routine down, and I even got ahead on my assignments. I was reaping the benefits of online learning and was stoked about an upcoming photography project. For the assignment, I was able to use a subject from nature. The bizarre claw tree on campus immediately came to mind, so on Thursday, I headed to lunch with my camera tucked in my bag.

  This time, I couldn’t wait for our lunch to be over. I was eager to get my pictures, and my mother was being extremely inquisitive. She asked what seemed like a zillion questions about my classmates. She wanted to know if I had anything in common with any of them, because she was dying for me to find a local friend. I tried to give her a little hope.

  “Yeah sure, Mom, I met a few seniors who like music.”

  “Really?” she said, perking up. “That’s so nice. You’re a senior and you like music, too.”

  “I know. Can you believe it? What a coincidence,” I replied, eyes wide.

  “Very funny, Sophie. You need to open up and meet people. Go to the social gatherings. You may find out that you actually have a lot in common with them…besides music.”

  “All right, I will,” I said, hoping that would satisfy her.

  When we finished our lunch, I took more time on campus than usual. I captured a bunch of pictures of the oak tree, and then I headed back to my car. When I reached the parking lot, I received a text message from Kerry. It read: CHEM TEACHER SO HOT. I laughed to myself as I neared my car. I didn’t have time to text her back right then, because it was really rude to take a long time getting out of the space while the vultures were hovering. Instead, I got in my car, set the phone down, and decided I would text her back at the first red light I came to.

  I turned to back out of the space, and my phone went off again. What now? I thought to myself, as I glanced in my lap. I picked up the phone and opened the message. Kerry again: YUM YUM, it read. I smiled, set the phone in the console, and resumed my previous task.

  Just then, a tremendous jolt and crunch sound happened simultaneously. I slammed on the brakes and said a word my mother wouldn’t have approved of, and then I snapped my head around to see what had happened. That’s when I realized I’d backed right into a car passing by. A quick rundown of questions flashed through my brain, such as: What just happened? How bad is it? What do I do? Do I call Mom? Do I call the cops? Do I get out? Is this person going to kill me? Am I an idiot? The only answers I could come up with were, yes, I was a complete idiot, and yes, I should get out and apologize quickly.

  I opened my door and walked toward the back of my car. I didn’t even look at the damage to my car. I was too busy quickly coming up with an apology in my head. My thoughts were interrupted by the image of a huge dent in the side of the shiny black car, made by yours truly. Horrified, and not knowing what to do, I searched for the owner who was making his way around his own car, sizing up the damage as well.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, looking like a deer in headlights. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t see…” About halfway through my attempt at an apology, the boy looked up from his car to me. His eyes got wide. Oh great, I thought. I’ve really done it. I’ve ticked this guy off. And how embarrassing, does he have to be so cute? I swallowed and stared at his face, which was incredibly proportioned. There wasn’t one feature that overpowered the other, and the perfect combination was topped off with strikingly dark brown hair that curled slightly at the tips. I didn’t know which feature I preferred to focus on, so I settled for his equally dark eyes, which were, by that time, piercing through my guilt. He looked so intimidating and strong, but boyish at the same time. I didn’t feel afraid. I felt terribly guilty and completely and utterly embarrassed.

  That was until he took two long strides and was standing less than two feet from me, and then I held my breath. “It can’t be,” he said, looking at me intensely. He was a good five inches taller than me, and I wasn’t short, so I started to get intimidated after all.

  “I’m sorry,” I said instinctively. “I didn’t see you. I must not have been paying attention…”

  “What are you doing here?” he interrupted, saying the words slowly and clearly, as if to make sure I heard the question. Well, what I was doing was ruining a perfectly good afternoon for the both of us while also ruining any self-esteem I had. There I was standing two feet in front of the most beautiful face I had ever seen, watching the muscles in his jaws flex
as he bit down on his teeth, and I was feeling like I should be in time-out.

  “I don’t know,” I answered. “I thought I checked. I didn’t see you.” Didn’t I say that already? I’m rambling again.

  “I meant, do you go here?”

  “No, I’m just having lunch with my mom.”

  “On campus?” His eyes narrowed.

  “Um yes, my mom works here.” At that point, I really felt like a toddler. I had to stop talking about my mom and get myself out of this nightmare. “Yes, I come here all the time,” I said assertively, shaking the hair out of my eyes and straightening my posture to look more mature. “This is the first time I’ve had this happen, and I’m sorry. I think I need to get you my insurance information. It was my fault.”

  “Are you all right? You’re not hurt are you?” he asked.

  I looked down at myself, and I appeared to be perfectly fine on the outside. My brain was working a little slow, and my stomach was acting funny, but I wasn’t about to tell him that so I said, “I’m fine. Let me get you my information.”

  I turned toward my car to get it when I thought I heard him say, “It’s all right. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Don’t you want my—”

  “I said don’t worry about it.”

  He slid back into his car, and I stood there looking confused as he drove off with his words still lingering. By that time, a few people had gathered. A guy, gripping a backpack with one hand, zeroed in on my personal space like a reporter.

  “Did he hit you? Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yes. I mean, no. He didn’t hit me. I hit him, and yes, I’m okay.”

  “Do you know that guy?”

  “No.”

  “And he just drove off?”

  “Um. Yes,” I replied, still trying to figure it out for myself.

  “Do you have any idea how much that car is worth?”

  “No.” Of course I didn’t, and as a matter of fact, I didn’t even know what kind of car it was.

  “Well, you’re lucky. That’s a Maserati,” he informed. “It costs more than a college education.”

  “Great.”

  “Not for him it isn’t.”

  At that point, he was starting to get on my nerves, so I shook my head and did a 180 on Anderson 360 to assess the damage to my own car. A busted brake light and some paint scratched off in the back left corner. My car definitely got the lesser damage of the two. I let out a big sigh and got back into my Jeep. What was I thinking? I’m going to kill Kerry. Yes. That was it. It may not have been what I was thinking when I rammed into that car, but it was definitely what I was thinking afterward. I was going to have to make those arrangements after I called my mom to tell her the grand news.

  Chapter 2

  CHECKMATE

  I didn’t want to call my mom while I was still on campus, because I was pretty sure she would insist upon seeing me in person to make sure I was all right. Instead, I waited until I got home. That way I could make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. As soon as I told her, she immediately began the rundown.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes Mom, I’m fine.”

  “How did it happen?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure. I guess I just didn’t see him.” I hoped that would be enough information. I was not about to fill her in on the text message thing.

  “All right, I’ll call the insurance company and let them know. How much damage did you do to the other car?”

  “Well, I put a pretty good size dent in the car, but it’s hard to tell.”

  “Well, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. The insurance should take care of it.”

  “Well Mom, that’s the strange thing,” I said. “He sort of drove away.”

  “He did what?”

  “He just said don’t worry about it and drove off.”

  “Odd.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  I could tell in her voice that she wasn’t completely buying the recap, but after insisting that I was serious, she settled on just having my car looked at to see what the damage was and assured me we would take care of it. Next, it was on to Kerry. I text messaged her back and just said: CALL ME.

  Once she did, I filled her in on what her little message caused me to do. She was laughing and asked me what I was thinking.

  “I was thinking about your chemistry teacher being hot. Remember?”

  “Well I can’t help it if you don’t pay attention, but I am sorry,” she said, giggling. “So what are you going to do? How much damage did you do to the other car?”

  I explained to her how he drove off and how I was still confused by the whole thing. She, of course, picked up on the “he” of my explanation right away and wasted no time asking me if he was cute. I couldn’t lie, so I found myself having to explain every little detail of his looks until she was convinced he must have thought I was cute, too.

  “Yeah whatever,” I replied. “I’m sure he just thought I was great. ‘Moron puts a big dent in my car and babbles like an idiot. Oh yeah, and she hangs out with her mom on campus.’ Right, I’m sure he was real impressed.”

  She thought about that for a second and then said, “Good point, but why did he let you off the hook then? Who does that?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t want to get the police involved.”

  “He likes you,” she said back quickly.

  “Yeah sure,” I countered, in complete sarcasm.

  I didn’t consider myself a genius, but I was sure whoever it was I rammed into, and then babbled to about my mom, was not interested in me. Besides, he was in college, and according to the parking lot reporter, he had a really expensive car, so I couldn’t imagine any reason he’d be interested in a high school girl. I tried to push the whole afternoon out of my head, but it stayed on my mind all evening. I kept picturing his face and trying to think of what things I could have said to him instead of the lame apologies, but there was no way to make up for ramming into someone’s car. All I could do was say I was sorry. Although, I suppose I could’ve left out the part about meeting my mom there. That was embarrassing. Whatever, I thought. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t banking on running into him again, literally or figuratively, so I had to fill my thoughts with something else, which turned out to be very difficult to do.

  Early the following week, my mom had an insurance adjuster come out to our house to look at my car. The damage was going to cost about $550.00 to fix. That wasn’t bad at all, except for the fact that our insurance deductible was $500.00, and I didn’t have that much saved up. I decided right away that I would need to get a job. My mom made me promise to keep my grades up and to keep our Thursdays together.

  I ended up going back to the used bookstore, because I remembered seeing a small hiring sign that had been in the window for a while. It probably meant they didn’t pay much, but I didn’t care. I just needed a job, and I wanted to do something that interested me, so I went.

  When I walked in, the same people were at the counter, and I got a little nervous, so I proceeded to the aisles as if I were looking for a book. While rehearsing what to say in my head, I saw a girl stacking books. She looked about my age, with auburn brown hair that was cropped at her neck and pulled back behind her ears. She was naturally pretty even though she was a little heavy on the eyeliner. I walked up to her and initiated a conversation.

  She was relieved to have a girl her age interested in working there, and it worked out really well, because her dad was the owner. She told me her name was Dawn, and then she took me to the front and introduced me to her dad as someone she knew. I barely had to say two words, before he asked me to come around the counter to go over days I’d be able to help out.

  After the easiest interview I could’ve imagined, we settled on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday afternoons. It was a good schedule. It gave me the beginning of the week to get a jump on my schoolwork, I could still fulfill my lunch with Mom, and it would still let me sleep in on Saturday.
It sounded like it was a great opportunity, so I took it without hesitation.

  I was set to start on Saturday for training, so I wanted to be sure to get my assignments done before then. By Thursday morning, I was a little behind on my work, and I wanted to cancel lunch with my mom, but I kept it anyway. I tried to tell myself that I didn’t want to disappoint her by canceling, but the truth was, I was hoping to see that little black car again. I wondered if he would still park in the same lot or if he would be sure to park at the opposite end of the campus.

  While I was looking for a parking space, I scoped out the lot to no avail. I began to think I was stupid for even looking. What was I going to do if I did see it? I couldn’t very well go up to him and strike up a conversation. “Hey remember me? I hit your car.” That would be ridiculous. I was silly for even looking for him. Then, I got to thinking about why he’d driven away to begin with. That was kind of rude. The more I thought about it, the more stumped I became. I wasn’t sure if he was just so angry that he needed to cool off or what. None of it made sense, and it was starting to irritate me that I couldn’t figure it out.

  I found a space at the far end of the lot and headed to meet my mom, still a little annoyed that I was looking for someone who had me so flustered. I didn’t like not being able to understand things. That’s why I liked science so much. There was always something to figure out, and there was always an answer for everything. Things just needed to be analyzed, evaluated, and solved. I was good at that. So it bothered me that I had caused a problem and the solution was left dangling in midair, hovering like a constant whisper in my ear. Most people would count their lucky stars that they got off that easy, but not me.