by Carla Rossi
He motions for me. “C’mon.”
I don’t move. It’s a bedroom. Clearly not his bedroom. It’s much too perfect, too neat, too... too... It’s a bedroom. “This is your dad’s bedroom. Should we be here?”
“Geeze, Holly, don’t be such a spaz. You should see your face. And here I thought we’d reached a new level in our relationship after that whole chicken incident at the grocery store. Get over here.”
I go like a dutiful puppy.
“Have a seat,” he says.
I hesitate.
“Sit,” he commands and takes the drink from my hands. “C’mon, you’re gonna miss it.”
I sit. He rushes to turn off the lamp and then squeezes in beside me.
“Watch,” he says.
I blink as my eyes adjust to the dark. Suddenly the world opens up before me through the glass doors. I see the water, the sky, the moon. A million stars twinkle and kiss the shadowy tree tops across the lake as they take turns exploding and streak across the night sky. Piles of undisturbed snow on the deck outside frame my new view of the mountain. I suck in a breath and hold it, knowing I’ve lived on this ridge my entire life—and I’ve never appreciated it quite like this.
I cannot speak.
Nick Zernigan’s warm body is pressed against mine. I smell his masculine scent and feel him breathe beside me. My own heart flutters too loud and too hard and I am aware of the lack of space between us.
“Does this happen every night?”
“No.” He stretches and moves in the chair. “It depends. I have an app that tells me when the conditions are right for meteor showers or visible planets.”
“It’s a great view.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty decent. In the spring you can watch nesting pairs of hawks or bald eagles. My dad and I actually posted a YouTube video of that. OK... That sounded lame.”
“No it didn’t. Where is your dad, anyway?”
“He’s with his girlfriend in The Bahamas. I was supposed to be with my mom for the holidays, but her husband’s mother got sick in Germany so they had to go there. My dad already made his plans so here I am. Me and Aunt Ivy for Christmas.”
“Where does your mom live?”
“California.”
“And you choose to live here?”
“Yeah. Why not? I like it here.”
“Wow. I thought everyone who had a chance to get off this mountain would take it.”
Nick wiggles in the chair again and twists his body as though he’s trying to look at me in the faint light. “Not everyone hates it here, Holly.” He scoots up and rests his arm across the back of the chair. “Why do you?”
“I guess I don’t hate it, but it’s all I know, and I want to know more. My dad’s not a surgeon like yours, and I don’t live in a house with a view like this. I don’t have a car, I don’t have a passport, and I’ve never been as far as California. So let’s just say I’m anxious to get to college and see what else is out there.”
Nick is quiet and I want to disappear into the leather. I would say I’m sorry for dumping on him again, but it seems I say I’m sorry to Nick Zernigan a lot lately and I’m not sure why. I hug the armrest on my side of the chair and pray a shooting star bursts through the glass to change the subject.
“I don’t think I’m going to college.”
Or something like that will do it, too.
“What?” I practically choke myself.
“No need to waste my parents’ money. I’m not a good student. I should have graduated at the end of this semester, and now I can’t until May. I was ahead of schedule until I spent two semesters in California and got delayed.”
“Why, Nick? I know you’re smart. I saw your name on the honor society roster.”
“Some credits didn’t transfer, I was missing a required class, but mostly I hate school. It’s suffocating. I want to do things. Not read things. I don’t want to take a test about why the birds nest the way they do or why the stars explode when they do, I want to see it. Be a part of it. Observe and preserve it.”
“So get your butt to college and study science or birds or stars.”
“Never mind. I don’t want to study birds and stars.”
“All right. I know what you mean. I do. I want that, too. I want to sing and act and audition and perform, but I guess I can see myself doing that through college.”
Nick gets up and stands at the glass doors. “And I can see myself doing what I want to do through the military.”
“No. Way. Does your dad know this? He’s gonna freak!”
Nick shakes his head. “He doesn’t know. I’m thinking about the Army. I’ve been talking with the recruiter.”
“You mean that creepy Army guy who comes to the school during lunch? Don’t let that guy make you a bunch of fancy promises, Nick. They tell you you’ll see the world and fly helicopters but you can also end up serving roast chicken to your fellow soldiers in Kentucky. Or you can end up full of bullet holes overseas.”
“There are a lot of jobs in the Army, Holly. I have some say in what I do. They make you take tests, see what you want and what you’re suited for.”
Nick’s phone is blowing up on the nightstand. He hands me my diet cola. “We need to go and make that other stop. The Starbucks closes at midnight so we need to move.”
“Sure,” I say and help him scoot the oversized chair back to its spot.
My mind is reeling from our conversation. Nick Zernigan: Classic car lover, bird-watcher, star-gazer... soldier. Who knew?
“Hey, don’t say anything to anyone about the military, OK? No one knows and I need to talk to my dad. I used to talk to my uncle about it because he’s a veteran, but he’s gone now.”
“Sure, Nick. And it’s good you’re here for your Aunt Ivy. Granny says she misses him very much and is having a hard time.”
“Yeah. So how did you end up with Collette for the holidays? And watch your step,” he adds as we work our way back down the stairs.
“My mother’s boyfriend surprised her with a trip. He won it at work or something and they had to go at a certain time. I kinda think Jake wouldn’t have minded if I went along, but they couldn’t swing it financially. Either that or my mom didn’t want me to go. Then I broke my nose and I don’t know... Me and Granny for Christmas. Or at least until Christmas day. They’re supposed to be back.”
Nick picks up keys, a Christmas gift, and an envelope from the counter. “That stinks.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. But I love being with my granny. We’re doin’ all right.”
“What about your dad? Could you have stayed with him?”
“Um... No. My mom was never married to my dad. We’ve never been close.”
I am relieved when he doesn’t push it. I long ago accepted my status as a casualty of a broken home. No reason to dwell on it now.
He sticks his nose in the fridge again and I brace myself for the possible beer situation to rear its ugly head.
I’ve never been more relieved to see a Mountain Dew.
“Let’s go,” he says and heads for the door.
“What did you get your Aunt Ivy for Christmas?” I ask as we pull on our boots.
“iPad. Her computer died but all she cares about is Words with Friends, the weather, and her e-mail. This should be all she needs. What about Collette?”
“I have an idea but I haven’t done it yet.”
I head for Nick’s truck, but it’s his dad’s Mercedes that starts up on its own across the garage.
“C’mon,” Nick says.
“That’s your dad’s new SUV.”
“He said I could drive it.”
I shuffle my feet to keep them from freezing. “I’ll get our groceries.”
“No, c’mon. We’re only goin’ a couple miles down the road. We’ll be back for the truck. And stop making that face. It’s fine.”
What face? The one that’s concerned we’ll get pulled over in your dad’s new car?
I need to find a new
face. A poker face.
I sit on a heated leather seat and breathe a hint of new-car smell through my busted nose. “This is nice.”
Nick hops out at the mailbox and the end of the drive. “It’s OK,” he says as he gets back in. “But it’s no Z-28.”
A few minutes farther down Lakefront Drive, Nick slows. Cars line the street in both directions and all the way up the drive. I can see from the road that every light in the house is on.
“Isn’t this Ricky Farmer’s house? Are his parents having a Christmas party?”
“No, Ricky’s having a Christmas party. His parents won’t be back tonight.”
“That looks like some party.”
Nick drives past the house. “There’s nowhere to park here.” He pulls off the road two mailboxes away. “There’s a path through the woods. Let’s go.”
“I didn’t know we were going to a party, Nick. My face is not exactly in party condition.”
“Everyone here already knows about your face. We won’t stay long. Ricky’s mom needs this envelope from my dad for her charity and I told Ricky we’d stop by.”
We?
“C’mon. All our friends are here. It’ll be fine.”
Our?
Apparently, Nick Zernigan has sniffed one too many new car fumes. I may have known some of these people since Kindergarten, but they are not my friends. Amanda and I don’t get invited to these legendary parties on the lake, and we don’t move in these circles.
Ice, snow, and twigs snap beneath my boots. Bitter cold shocks my cheeks and nose and I slow down to avoid diving face-first into the ground. Nick and Ricky know this path well. I do not.
Nick takes my hand. “We’re almost there.”
I push my scarf further up my face and walk close to him where it’s safe. I no longer mind the cold.
The house pulses with music and noise as we approach.
“There must be a hundred people in there.”
“I doubt that,” Nick says as he enters a side door.
We stand in the laundry room at the bottom of the stairs. Nick puts the envelope with Mrs. Farmer’s name on the dryer.
“Ready to go up?”
No. I don’t drink, and I don’t smoke, and I don’t feel comfortable with these people. And why doesn’t anyone get that I look like I’ve been hit by a bus?
“Yes,” I say and smile.
We climb the stairs. Nick opens the door and then closes it again.
“What?”
“There are a lot of people in that kitchen.”
“I told you.”
“Here.” He digs in his pocket. “Take this.”
He hands me the remote keychain for his dad’s car. I hand it back like it’s on fire.
“No, take it.” He laughs.
“What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Let’s get in and grab some food. I’ll find Ricky and say hi. If we lose track of each other, text me, and I’ll meet you outside. Push this button twice and this button once.”
“Then what happens? It’ll drive down the path and open the door for me?”
“No, but it will start and warm up the seats. I don’t want you to stand out in the cold waiting for me.”
I reach around him and push open the door. “Go.”
Nick opens the refrigerator and pulls out a beer. He offers me a red plastic cup and motions toward the selection of drinks on the island.
I take the cup. “I’ll get something,” I shout over the music.
He smiles and grabs a bag of chips. “I’ll find Ricky. Wanna come?”
“Go ahead,” I say. “I’ll be around.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
I fill my cup with ginger ale.
Someone snickers behind me. “Omigosh... Did you see her nose? Who is she here with?”
I don’t bother to turn around. Move along, stupid shallow people. I know I don’t belong here, but since I am, deal with it.
I take a picture of the adult beverage bar and text it to Amanda.
U r not going to believe where I am.
I get lost in a crush of partiers and eventually make my way to the base of a winding staircase. I sit and watch as the celebration goes by.
“Holly?”
“Kayla?”
“Hey, girl, I didn’t know you were coming.”
“I didn’t either.”
Kayla and I go way back. We’ve attended the same church since we were three and bunked at the same summer church camp for six years. We serve on the same youth mission committee and work the church nursery together every other month. That’s where the similarities end. Her involvement in athletics and cheerleading beats my choir-drama loserness in every popularity poll that was ever written. She gets to be a Christian and be cool and I get to be a Christian and, well, not be cool.
Kayla twirls a piece of long, curly blonde hair around her finger and looks around. “Are you here with somebody?”
“I rode with Nick. But we’re not together together.”
“Nick Z.?”
“Yes.” The look of shocked horror on Kayla’s face is almost comical.
“Huh. I didn’t know you two were friends.”
I take a sip of ginger ale. Me either. “We got to know each other a little better when we both were involved with the holiday show.”
Kayla isn’t listening anymore.
“I gotta go,” she says as she’s swept away by her boyfriend. “Your nose looks better. See you in church on Christmas Eve.”
I wish. On both counts. “Thanks.”
I glance at my phone. It’s been a while since I last saw Nick. I text him.
Heading outside to get some air.
I make my way back through the kitchen and down to the laundry room. I rush past the couple making out on the extra-large pet bed on the floor and head out into the cold.
Nick texts back. On my way.
But five minutes later, I’m freezing to death. I start down the path. There’s no reason to die in the arctic when Dr. Zernigan’s luxury SUV is heated and full of gas. I aim the remote and double click. The headlights come on in the distance and the low gentle hum of the engine promises warmth.
The noise of the party fades behind me and I barely notice the road above the trail—until the blinking red and blue lights of a police car bounce off the trees around me.
The car slows.
I fumble for my phone and rip off my glove.
COPS!!!! I text to Nick.
I run. The cold air bites my nose and throat as I breathe too hard. My knees buckle as I fight with the door handle and realize I haven’t punched the right button.
Someone is running toward me. “Get in and drive,” Nick yells. “Drive!”
I keep clicking as I run around the other side. Car engines rev and footsteps are heavy on the road as panicked and drunken party-goers try to escape.
The door comes open as my hearts beats out of my chest. Clearly by accident, the back of the SUV starts to rise.
“No!” I punch more buttons and jump in the driver’s seat.
“Go!” Nick dives in the back and pulls down the door. “Drive!”
“I don’t know how to drive this thing,” I scream back at him.
“It’s just a car. Drive!”
I put it in gear. It lurches forward and I hit the brakes hard before making a slow, sharp turn in the dirt.
“Take your time and pull out on the road,” he says as he crawls toward the front. “If you aren’t driving crazy, they’ll have no reason to stop you.”
I do and creep away from Ricky’s house as another police car passes us. There is no traffic behind me now and I’m sure it’s because the police have blocked Ricky’s driveway and managed to corral everyone.
Nick squeezes himself into the passenger seat and puts on his seatbelt. I’m not wearing mine.
“You are a genius.”
“What?”
“The lift gate... The back. I was
running full speed and that thing opened just in time.”
“It was a total accident. I was pushing all the buttons and it popped open. How do I get back to your house without going back past Ricky’s?”
“Turn left in about a half mile and we’ll circle back.”
I use my pinkie to feel for the blinker, still shaking so hard I’m afraid to loosen my grip on the wheel.
“Where were you when I texted?”
“I was in the kitchen and on my way out. Thanks for that. When I saw it, I yelled at everyone and took off. Turn left again where that Santa Claus is flashing.” He twists to look behind us. “If we hadn’t parked a ways down I don’t think we’d have made it.”
I make one more turn and recognize the main road. Nick’s driveway seems incredibly narrow and a million miles long as I inch toward the garage. I slam it in park and nearly fall out in my rush to exit the car right outside the massive columns in the front. No way am I gonna try to get that thing in its small, neat space.
I wait by the truck while Nick puts the Mercedes to bed and locks up the house. My knees have gone from rubber to jelly and I’m trembling from the inside out. As the rush of fear subsides, I want to cry, but refuse. I lean against the passenger door and wait for him to unlock it—and he comes around the side laughing like a hyena.
“I’m glad you’re amused, Nick.”
“C’mon, Holly, you know this is hilarious.”
“Maybe tomorrow it’ll be hilarious.”
“That was awesome,” he insists. “You’re awesome.”
“Not awesome. I was scared to death.”
“Duh,” he says, “but you were cool. That text... The way the gate opened up. It couldn’t have been more perfect.”
“Are you listening to yourself? I don’t want to be good at running from the police but I can’t afford to mess anything up this year. I can’t get an M.I.P ticket or have to show up at court with my mom.”
“And you think I can? My recruiter is keeping tabs on me. I can’t blow it either.”
“Let’s just go. Are you OK to drive?”
“Seriously? I didn’t even drink that beer I opened. I basically carried it around for the forty-five minutes we were in there.”
“And why bother to do that, Nick? Why open it at all?”
