by Nicole Marsh
He finally backs down once he realizes I’m not going to brush past him to leave. He slinks away, retreating to the counter in the lobby. I wait until he’s fully ensconced behind the desk before turning off the light in the closet and striding to the front door.
“See you tomorrow, Mr. Mouchard,” I call out in a polite, but flippant tone. Then I let myself out the door without waiting to hear his response.
Outside, I hop back onto my bike and pedal the mile and a half towards my trailer. Prior to returning to my home, I stop at the administrative office for the park, needing to pay my lot rent. Propping my bike against the side of the building, I take a deep sniff near my underarms to see if the wind has cleared any of my unpleasant odor.
The deep breath ends on a gag.
Nope.
Still stink.
I force myself to go into the office anyways, being smelly doesn’t make it so my lot rent isn’t due. Inside, I stand by the front counter, waiting for the manager to acknowledge me. While I wait, I count out $40 from the $47 I made today, between my hourly wage and weekly tips at the motel.
When Mildred finally glances up from her computer, I offer her a shy smile. “Hey Mildred, I brought the first half of my lot rent.” I hold out the small stack of hard-earned money, even though parting with it feels like handing away a piece of my soul. At least the office manager allows me to pay half the lot rent on the first and the other half on the fifteenth. Living in the trailer park in our tiny town is dirt cheap.
Mildred shuffles the bills between her hands, counting, then recounting again. “You’re twenty dollars short,” she states in her gravelly voice, without glancing up from the money on her desk.
“No, no.” I stammer, protesting. “I just counted it, that’s forty dollars.”
“Lot rent went up to one-twenty. Didn’t you get the notice? We sent it to the email address on file.” After her words, she finally moves her eyes to my face, raising a single, questioning brow in my direction.
Shit.
It’s my mom’s email address on file. Meaning I didn’t get the notice my lot rent would be increased by fifty percent, because my mom is technically the one renting the lot.
My stomach clenches over the thought of the increase. One-hundred and twenty bucks a month for this place is a total scam. The roads are dirt, the grounds unkempt, and at least twice a month our water gets shut off without notice.
“I didn’t. I mean, we didn’t get the notice or maybe my mom forgot. Let me run home and grab another twenty!” I exclaim, inching backwards towards the door.
Mildred stares at my face for another second before her gaze drops back to her computer. A silent dismissal, as if she doubts my ability to pay and is already planning on a vacant lot in the near future.
Scrambling, I exit the office and frantically pedal the short distance to my trailer. I guess I’ll have to pull money from my savings jar to cover the rest of the rent due today.
Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time I’ve had to do this, and I groan at the thought of my savings dwindling, just to keep living in a shitty trailer. There’s been times when it couldn’t be helped, like when I had the flu last year and when I needed time off to study for the PSAT’s, then later, my finals.
I refuse to fail out of high school and give up my dreams of college; to work more so I can stay afloat in this crap hole. Dreaming of a better future is one of the only things that keeps me going.
Short-term, I’ll pull a twenty out of my jar to cover rent.
Long-term, I’ll need to see about picking up more shifts at the motel.
Or maybe find another job, a steady one, not odds and ends like the catering gig.
On top of everything else, my senior year of high school is starting in a week, which will limit my availability, making it more difficult to find work, and pick up extra shifts.
By the time I reach my trailer, I’m a mess of stress and anxiety. The minute I feel like I’m finally climbing uphill, an avalanche falls on top of me, eliminating all the progress I’ve made. Clambering inside, I firmly shut the door behind me so no one can see what I’m doing. I open my canister and pull out a small roll of bills, count out a few to make $20, then carefully replace the lid, and slide the container back into its place.
I decide to walk back to the front office. It’s only a quarter mile away and I’m not particularly eager to part with my money, anyways. The distance passes quickly, with the summer sun beating down on my already sweaty skin. I open the door and step back into the front office, feeling grimier and poorer than before.
Mildred silently holds out her palm and I place the bills into it, waiting to release my breath until she confirms I’m no longer short. “Alight, dear. You’re good until next month.”
My breath whooshes out of my body and she scribbles down a hand-written receipt for me, which I shove into my back pocket as I trudge back home for a shower.
Chapter 3
With slow determination, I blow-dry my hair into a straight sheet; the midnight colored strands floating around my shoulders and down my back after the final stroke of my brush. Wandering from my bathroom to my closet, I consider all my options before choosing a pair of light wash jeans with holes in the knees and a thin strapped, flowy, floral tank top. After I slide into a pair of sneakers, I square my shoulders and take a deep breath, then step through the door.
Usually I avoid the other residents of the trailer park, as much as possible. Creating a connection with these people that will inevitably suck me into staying here after I graduate, is not an option. The park is a temporary stay for me, not a permanent destination. My goal is to save up enough money to move out of this place and grow roots in a bigger city, hopefully while attending college on a scholarship.
When I turn to lock the door behind me, I experience another bout of indecisiveness.
Do I really want to go to this party?
Of course, I don’t, but I push the thought of abandoning the party away. Living here is not ideal, but while I do, I need to attempt to be friendly and fit in, like Derek said. I’m alone out here and advertising my loner status will only add to my problems.
Following the sounds of music drifting down the dirt road, I pick my way across the patchy, grass “yards” towards Derek’s trailer. Upon arriving, I take a few minutes to survey the small crowd. It’s eight at night, but the sun hasn’t fully set yet, leaving plenty of light for me to check out the scene.
A small fire has been built in the center, just a few logs thrown together on a patch of dirt, with camping chairs and blankets scattered about the grass. Some people are using them to sit, while others stand around in clusters. Seeing other girls, half dressed in tiny summer dresses, I feel overdressed. Or at least over-covered, as in too much skin is covered by my ripped jeans and sneakers.
Derek glances up from his conversation with a few guys he rides motorcycles with, and his dark eyes instantly lock onto mine. “Kenzie-girl,” he yells, accompanying my name with a “come here” motion.
His bellow has half the party’s focus on me, probably wondering who Kenzie-girl is, since I barely recognize anyone here. Resigned, I weave between the blankets and chairs slowly making my way towards Derek.
He smiles as I approach, stepping forward to drape a tattooed arm around my shoulders, firmly holding me in place against his side to introduce me to his friends. “Kenz, this is Zane and Kevin.”
Derek’s friend Zane nods his head at his name. He’s a tall, skinny dude with spiked hair, clad in a wife beater and gym shorts. He’s also wearing a pair of aviator sunglasses, at night, which he probably thinks makes him appear cool and mysterious. He kind of looks like a douchebag that’s stuck in 2004, but I keep my opinion to myself.
The other guy in our semi-circle, Kevin, leers at me over the top of his beer. He’s almost the exact opposite of Zane. He’s short, coming only to my shoulders, when I stand at five-foot eight, with a paunch overhanging his too-tight cargo shorts.
I say my hellos, then crane my neck around, glancing longingly back at my trailer. I already regret letting Derek’s warning convince me to come here. It doesn’t even seem like this is a party for people our age that live at the park.
I’ll stay for an hour. That’s long enough.
One hour. I can do it.
I tug myself free from Derek’s arm and wander over to the keg. Upon filling my plastic cup with beer, I situate myself at the fringe of a small group gathered nearby. I sip on the warm, bitter liquid in my red solo cup, while eavesdropping on them while they talk about their boring lives. I’m not actually participating in the conversation, but act like I am to keep Derek away.
A blonde-haired guy is in the middle of a story and I tune in, “This chick ordered like fifty-three cheeseburgers all with different toppings.” He wildly gestures his hands in the air, making a big swirling circle.
I finish my beer while I listening to him. He’s kind of a maniac, making erratic motions that don’t match his words, but I find myself laughing along with the rest of the group anyways. Distractedly, I finish two more cups full of the gross beer, back to back, as I watch him weave random tales and wave his arms around in the air to emphasize each point.
His antics and my slight buzz distract me, and I don’t notice anyone approaching until a hand roughly grabs onto my arm. I’m dragged halfway around the trailer before I think to make a ruckus, to protest, to do anything to make someone notice what’s happening to me.
Dropping my weight, I attempt to force the hand to release me, but the grip stays tight. I squirm around and see Kevin’s chunky face leering at me.
“Dude, get the fuck off me,” I demand, spitting the words out angrily over this guy’s serious overstep, by touching me without my permission.
He laughs at my vitriol, brushing it off as he continues hauling me towards some unknown destination. He’s short, but outweighs me by at least fifty pounds and my struggles are ineffective at halting our progress forward. He finally stops when we’re at the backside of Derek’s trailer, facing the woods.
There are no lights on this side, and the sun has finally set, leaving us steeped in darkness. All the trailers are facing the opposite direction and a small trickle of fear runs down my spine. We are isolated, on the outskirts of a party. One I don’t think anyone would notice or care I’m missing from.
Kevin increases the strength of his grip, while I survey our surroundings. The trailers blur as he twirls me to face him and adjusts his hands, moving further up my biceps. His hold on my skin feels tighter than a boa constrictor, and I can already feel a bruise forming. He hasn’t said anything yet, just firmly clutches my upper arms, while heavily breathing in front of me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the door to the closest trailer on the left begin to slide open. A hulking form exits, outlined by the porch light.
Hurriedly, I open my mouth and shout, “Help!” My voice is loud, but instantly muffled as Kevin places a sweaty palm against my face.
I open my mouth to bite his palm, eager to scream again. Hoping someone, maybe even the bulky stranger, will come to my rescue against this creepy drunk guy holding me hostage. My bite is futile as Kevin barely grunts in response.
Attempting the tactic again, I open my mouth and… bite air. My eyebrows fly up my forehead in surprise as Kevin suddenly stumbles away from me. He half-falls back onto the dry grass, barely catching himself with his hands.
Stunned, I turn from my would-be assailant and come face-to-face with someone I never expected to see in my trailer park.
Collin Franzen.
“What is richy-rich doing in the trailer park?” My words are slightly slurred, and Collin narrows his eyes making me realize I spoke the thought out loud.
His baritone is quiet, but firm and threatening when it floats through the air to reach my ears. “Back off.”
My forehead scrunches in confusion, until I realize his words aren’t directed at me. Twirling around, I find Kevin approaching again, from behind, invading my space as he strides forward. I take a step toward Collin, although I barely know him, my instincts tell me he is the lesser threat in this scenario.
Kevin stops to stare at the newcomer. “Who the hell are you?”
His question doesn’t receive an answer.
Kevin takes another step forward, this time away from me and towards Collin. He puffs his chest out, as if that will make up for over a foot in height difference and a significant amount of muscle tone. “I asked you a question,” he says to Collin, a scowl marring his face.
“And I chose not to answer.” Collin’s white teeth glint in the near dark as he smirks.
Kevin takes another menacing step forward and Collin’s fist flies, hitting Kevin square in the nose. He drops like a sack of potatoes, hitting the ground with an impressive thud, a small flare of dust kicking up upon impact.
Collin turns to me; concern clear in his bright gaze. “Are you okay McKenzie?”
Stunned, my eyes widen at his words. “You…You know my name?”
“Yo, you crash my party throwing punches? What the fuck dude?” Derek asks indignantly, cutting off Collin, as he rounds the corner into sight.
After another lingering, assessing look, Collin turns to Derek. “When he wakes up, ask what he planned to do with McKenzie when he started dragging her back here.”
Derek’s mouth drops open, but he quickly snaps it shut, lowering his fists from in front of his body. After a brief stare down, two pairs of eyes turn to me, one light and one dark. Their voices overlap as they both offer me their time.
Derek blurts out, “Come sit by the fire with me, Kenzie-girl.”
While Collin offers, “Let me walk you home.”
“I can walk home by myself, it’s like fifteen feet away,” I respond. Gesturing my hand in a circle to encompass the trailer park and Kevin still slumped on the ground. “Thanks for everything,” I mutter, glancing at Collin then Derek.
“Anytime,” Collin replies firmly, his gaze intensely focused on me.
When he finally walks away, I release a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. For the second time, I’m brought back to reality by a firm hand gripping my arm, but this time it’s Derek, using his grasp to steer me home.
“You’re straight trouble. I knew there was a reason I liked you, Kenzie-girl.” He shoots me a wicked smirk as we walk, his face flashing in and out of sight from the porch lights as we pass.
I stay silent, but Derek keeps chattering anyways. “I always forget Golden Boy’s grandma lives in the park. He doesn’t usually waste his time with us though. Maybe he liiiikes you.” He releases a cackle, like that last statement is too ridiculous to fathom.
Our steps are the only noise, as we tread across the crunchy, dead grass. We finally reach my trailer and I fumble a few times before successfully opening my door. Derek leans in as if expecting a kiss when I pivot in the doorway to say goodnight.
Scoffing, I twirl back around and slam the door in his face. “Goodnight Derek,” I call through the thin piece of tin before stomping towards the back of the trailer.
A muffled noise that sounds a lot like, “Someday, Kenz,” comes through the door, but I ignore it to get ready for bed.
Chapter 4
Mrp. Mrp. Mrp. Mrp” echoes through my brain before I’ve slept long enough to process the noise is my alarm. It’s time to wake up for another shift at the motel. In my groggy state, I slam my hand around to my left until the incessant noise ceases. Breathing out a sigh of relief at the silence, I shift to reacquaint myself with comfort, under my pile of blankets.
My brain is drifting back into a fuzzy dream state when a pounding noise begins at the front of my trailer. Groaning, I aim to ignore it and fall back asleep until a voice is added to the noise. Derek yells, “Kenzie-girl, open up, I need to talk to you.”
Reluctantly, I drag myself out of my bed and trudge towards the door. Smoothing my hair into a slightly more respectable, but still tang
led low ponytail, as I walk.
“What do you want?” I grit out while yanking the door open.
His gaze floats down my body, pausing on my chest briefly, then continuing all the way to my toes. I cross my arms and begin to tap my foot. “Derek you have ten seconds to tell me why you’re waking me up before I shut this door in your face.”
“I love it when you talk dirty to me,” he purrs, his tone sultry to accompany the joking words.
“Ten, nine, eight…”
“Okay, okay.” He holds his hands up in front of him, palms outward as a signal to pacify me. “I’ve been thinking about it all night. Golden Boy never interacts with anyone at the park, then he acts all knight in shining armor to save you from Kevin last night.”
“He’s not an asshole, like your friends. What’s your point?” My words are each punctuated with a tap of my foot on the linoleum.
“Well, he seemed like maybe he actually feels… fondly towards you and his parents are super rich. They live in that brand-new development on the other side of town,” Derek continues then shrugs, as if I’m going to fill in the blanks.
I throw my hands up, exasperated. “Did you come over here to play matchmaker? I don’t have time for your shit, Derek.”
“No, No,” He waves his hands in the air, brushing the words aside. “I was thinking: what if you pretended to like him back, scoped out his parents place and then gave me the details? Zane and I would case the place and we could split the profits.”
I laugh and move to slam my door, but Derek’s hand snakes out, whipping open the screen and gripping the thin piece of tin. I’m caught off-guard and my laughter dies in my throat as I narrow my eyes. Blatantly, I stare at his hand, still holding my door with the screen resting against the backside of his palm, then quirk a brow at him.
