Independence Day

by Amy Frazier

  Chessie shrieked as two dogs, their toothy grip firm in a corner of trailing sheet, their eight combined feet planted in the roadside grass, threatened by sheer dog-headedness to unwrap her.

  Nick broke into a jog.

  Just as Eban and Hamilton Quick, owner of the hardware store, caught up with them, one of the dogs, leaped up and snapped. Instead of coming away with a prized hunk of fabric, he sank his teeth into Nick’s left buttock.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  WERE HER PARENTS TRYING to screw up her life totally?

  It sure seemed that way.

  Having escaped to Keri’s room, Gabriella wanted to disappear from the face of the earth. Pushing herself back into the mound of stuffed animals on her friend’s bed, she tried to erase the awful memory of them in the square just now. Tried to focus on the perfectly normal trip to the mall beforehand. Focus on her new flavored lip gloss. On running into Danny Aiken, Keri’s boyfriend. On Danny saying how phat Gabriella’s haircut was…

  Not on the ride home when—excruciating minutes ago— Mrs. Weiss had driven into the square and there they were: Dad carrying Mom. Mom wearing a sheet. That dog taking a bite of Dad’s butt. Everybody running out of the hardware store. Yelling. Pointing.

  At her parents.

  They looked like they were trying out for some lame reality show.

  Now, as she heard Mrs. Weiss’s SUV pull out of the driveway below, taking Mom and Dad to the emergency room, she tried to think how she could make sure her parents’ behavior didn’t cross her new friends’ radar.

  Her new cool friends, thanks to Keri.

  “Parents can be so…gross.” Keri wasn’t helping matters. If she thought Mom and Dad were gross, what would Danny think? Or Baylee Warner? Or Margot Hensley? Or anyone else in Danny’s group. And now Keri’s group by association.

  Gabriella wanted this new crowd to be hers, as well. No such luck with her parents acting whack.

  “Do you hear what I’m saying?” Keri was right in her face. “You have got to, like, prove you’re not just as weird.”

  “As who?”

  “As your parents.” Keri made a face. “Wake up. You need damage control here.”

  As if she needed to be told.

  “This is our freshman year coming up, Gabs. Do you want to be in, or do you want to be out?”

  She’d been so close to being out for the past year since moving to Pritchard’s Neck. Keri had been her only real friend. Now Keri had moved into the winner’s circle as Danny’s girlfriend, and Gabriella knew Keri was trying not to leave her behind.

  What scared Gabriella more than anything in the world was the thought of being left behind.

  “Well?” Keri poked her in the ribs.

  “Do I even have to answer that?”

  “You’d better come up with some answers before we both find ourselves on the outside looking in.” There was something like fear in Keri’s eyes.

  Gabriella knew Keri was on probation. Danny could only bring her so far into his circle. The group had to cast its approval, too. And if the group wanted to test Keri’s loyalty by having her dump a former friend—a friend with even the whiff of geek or weirdo about her—well… The thought made Gabriella queasy.

  “What can I do?”

  “Make sure you’re a whole lot cooler than your family.”

  Gabriella tried to bury herself in the stuffed animals again, but Keri yanked her upright. “The hair’s a start,” she said. “Brilliant even. Danny said so.”

  “The hair will be history by the time school starts. Remember the dress code?”

  “Yeah. Your dad’s dress code. Could it get any worse than your father as principal?”

  “My mom, Fourth-of-July nutcase.”

  “Your dad, dog food.”

  Her dad on the way to the emergency room in Mrs. Weiss’s SUV because his Volvo was AWOL and Mom’s Mini Cooper was too tiny for him to lie on his stomach.

  “Hey, Danny wasn’t in the square, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Gabriella pointed out in weak defense.

  “No, but Kurt Ryan’s dad was coming out of the hardware. And Baylee’s mom works in the E.R. How soon do you figure before everyone knows?”

  Gabriella pulled the comforter over her head. “I wish I was dead.”

  “There’s no time for that.” Keri pulled the cover aside. “You gotta think how to keep far away from all this before you get blackballed.”

  “How are we going to do that?”

  Keri raised one eyebrow, and Gabriella realized there didn’t have to be a we. This was her problem. Keri could wash her hands of it.

  But Keri softened. Maybe it was because they were such good friends, or maybe Keri needed someone lower on the totem pole than her. “For the summer the hair’s a good start. But we gotta keep people thinking you’re out there.”

  Gabriella didn’t feel out there. Not even with her new haircut. She felt miserable. Saddled with a lame family. And in over her head.

  Keri jumped off the bed and began examining her face in her dresser mirror. “A boyfriend would be huge.”

  Gabriella didn’t feel ready for a boyfriend. That Keri had met Danny two weeks ago at the beach and had chased him till he’d given her the time of day made Gabriella’s jaw drop. She didn’t want to think what Keri might’ve done to make Danny so loyal so quick. No, the idea of a boyfriend made Gabriella nervous.

  “Boyfriends take time,” she replied. “I need something quick.”

  “You gotta be fearless. You gotta act as if you don’t care what your parents think.”

  Easy for Keri to say. She was an only child. Her mom treated her more like a girlfriend than a daughter, and her dad treated her like a princess.

  “You suggesting I start smoking and hanging around street corners?” Gabriella asked sarcastically.

  “No,” Keri replied, serious. “Everybody smokes and hangs around street corners. You need to be awesome. A standout. Plus, you don’t need to waste attitude on just anybody. Save it for when you’re hanging around Baylee or Margot or Kurt.”

  “As in?”

  “As in when we’re at the mall together, you might lift a lip gloss rather than pay for it.”

  “Shoplift? I don’t need to steal.” Besides, it was wrong. Just wrong. And Keri should know better. Gabriella’s father might be a principal, but Keri’s was a cop.

  “Nobody needs to shoplift. It’s just for kicks.” Keri narrowed her eyes. “But you’re right. You don’t need to do it. It’s not original. You need something fresh.”

  Something beyond smoking and theft? Gabriella didn’t like the sound of the words fearless or fresh. “Couldn’t I aim for something like best dressed?”

  Keri looked at Gabriella’s outfit. “Not when your mom makes your tops and you buy your jeans at a discount store. We’re gonna take care of that, don’t you worry, but first we gotta come up with a rep for you.”

  Gabriella’s family hadn’t stayed in one place long enough for her to get a reputation. She was always just the new kid.

  “How about smart?”

  “In high school?” Keri made as if to slit her throat. “Look at your sister, the brainy poet. Just another word for nerd.”

  If Isabel was a nerd, was Gabriella? She thought of her dad. Not making the honor roll had never been an option in their family. “Funny?”

  “Funny walks a thin line with stupid. Some people might think what happened in the square this afternoon was funny. Do you want to be known that way?”

  Gabriella absolutely did not.

  “Don’t worry.” Keri flopped on the bed beside her. “I’m going to make you over this summer. I’m not a hundred percent sure how, but by the time school starts, everyone’s going to be asking who Gabriella McCabe is. Hey, maybe not Gabriella!” Keri jumped to her feet. “Maybe Tiffany. Or Brianna. Or Kayla. Have you thought of changing your name?”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause Gabriella sounds like an old lady, and Gabby sounds
like a cowboy on the retro western channel.”

  Change her name? Her parents would freak. “I don’t know—”

  “You don’t know?” Her friend’s look turned harsh. “Do you want to consider your options? Like the losers’ lunch table? It’s no different in high school than it was in junior high. Maybe worse.”

  That table with the fat kids. The picked-on, misunderstood and unattractive kids. The ones who fit in with no group whatsoever except losers. In a couple schools she’d been one of them.

  She wasn’t going back to that table. Not ever. A new name and identity suddenly appealed to her.

  “Aside from picking a name, what do I have to do?”

  “Nothing yet.” Keri slipped her arm around Gabriella’s shoulders. “Just leave everything to me.”

  With her future in Keri’s hands, Gabriella’s thoughts slipped back to her parents. She wondered if her father had made it to the emergency room yet. And hoped that Baylee’s mom wasn’t on duty this afternoon.

  “WOULD MUSIC HELP?” Martha asked from the driver’s seat.

  “No.” Lying on his stomach in the back of the Weisses’ SUV, Nick spoke between clenched teeth. “Thank you.”

  This day had turned out to be—literally—one big pain in the ass.

  “We’re almost there, honey,” Chessie reassured him. “I can see the sign for the emergency room.”

  “Just drop me off.” He knew the E.R. took cases in order of severity. Dog bite would be way down the priority list. He didn’t need two women—one he was royally ticked at—hovering over him for a couple hours. “I’ll call a cab when I’m done.”

  “Nonsense,” Martha countered cheerfully. “You’ll need moral support.”

  He thought he heard a suppressed giggle.

  Shifting his weight, he groaned at the stab of pain. Cautiously, he felt his backside. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, but his trousers—his new trousers—were ripped badly, and the fabric stuck to his skin with what he could only assume was dried blood. He’d have to walk into the E.R. with an immodest patch of himself hanging out.

  “Do you have anything I could tie around my waist?” he asked. “Just so I don’t give the world a free show.”

  “Hold on,” Martha replied, pulling to a stop under the hospital portico.

  The back doors to the SUV opened, and Chessie handed him the sheet she’d been wearing. He nearly threw his back out, turning to see what she had on. A tank top and a pair of jeans with the store labels still hanging off them.

  “Martha let me wear a pair she picked up at the mall,” she explained. “Wrap the sheet around you.”

  “I’m not wearing that damned sheet.” He struggled to slide backward out of the SUV. “What else do you have?”

  “This,” Martha replied briskly, tying a huge plastic Macy’s bag around his waist. Empty, it flapped behind him like half a loincloth. “Now, lean on your wife. I’m going to park the car and wait in it. I picked up plenty of new magazines today, so don’t think I’m in a rush.”

  Chessie threaded her arm under his and across his back, but he pulled away. “I don’t need help.”

  “Nick, I’m sorry. No one could’ve anticipated this.”

  As he limped ahead of her through the emergency entrance, he winced at the pain dogging his every step. Warm moisture trickling down the back of his thigh told him the wound had reopened.

  “May I help you?” the nurse behind the desk asked.

  “A dog bit me,” Nick replied. “I think I need stitches.”

  The nurse handed him a clipboard with a form attached. “Do you know if the dog had been immunized for rabies?”

  “The owner assured me it had.” Call that the only plus in this doggone day.

  “Fill out the form, and a doctor will look at you as soon as possible.” The nurse motioned to a row of chairs against the wall. “You can have a seat over there.”

  “He can’t.” Chessie pointed to his backside. “Sit, that is.”

  “Chessie,” he growled, grabbing the clipboard. He headed for the corner.

  “Mr. McCabe! What you doin’ in here?”

  Nick turned slowly to see Chris Filmore, the high school’s star running back, hobbling on crutches out of the examination area. A bright white cast covered his left leg. The sight did not bode well for the upcoming football season.

  “What happened, Chris?”

  “Broke my leg.” The kid looked sheepish. “Playing Frisbee at the beach. What are you in for?”

  “A dog bit me.”

  “Where?”

  “In the square.”

  “No, man. I mean where did he bite you?”

  How did a high-school principal refer to that particular part of the anatomy with a student?

  As Chris surveyed the plastic shopping bag draped over Nick’s backside, understanding crept into his face. “Oh, the glute.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “And here I was feelin’ embarrassed.”

  “Glad I could ease your pain,” Nick muttered and held up the clipboard to signal the end of the conversation.

  “See you in September.” Chris headed for the exit, amusement lacing his farewell.

  Chessie stood wide-eyed before Nick.

  “I suppose you find this all very funny, too,” he said.

  “I don’t see humor in someone else’s discomfort…but getting all tense isn’t going to help the situation.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.” He wedged himself in the corner of the waiting room and, standing, began to fill out the patient information sheet. It wasn’t her butt all bruised and bleeding under a red, white and blue sale bag.

  “I’m going to call the girls.” She backed away. “Can I get you a soda?”

  “No.” He kept writing. The fluorescent glare made his head hurt.

  When she left, he felt suddenly smaller that he was hanging on to his anger. He felt weary, too. Bone weary. He handed the completed form back to the desk nurse.

  An hour and forty-five minutes later, he lay facedown on an examination table as a cheerful young resident stitched up his backside. “So, Mr. McCabe,” she said, “how’d you happen to anger this particular dog?”

  “He was rescuing me,” Chessie piped up from her spot at his head. “From a very large pack.”

  “Ah, a hero.”

  “Just a high-school principal,” Nick replied. He’d given up rising to any bait.

  “A high-school principal? How’s your work schedule for next week?”

  “I can’t take it off if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “No. I was just curious how many meetings you have to attend.”

  “Way too many.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to attend standing up. I don’t think even a hemorrhoid doughnut would give you any relief.”

  Fine. He was going to have to do enough explaining as it was. He didn’t need a shiny red rubber prop to add to the merriment.

  “There. Finished.” The resident backed away. “Mrs. McCabe, you’re going to have to make sure this wound is kept—”

  “I can handle it.” Nick gingerly found the floor and stood.

  “Not unless you have eyes in the back of your head,” the resident countered. “Besides, you have a bigger task.”

  “What?”

  “Thinking up a list of snappy comebacks.” The woman flashed him a bright smile. “No doubt, you’re going to be the butt of a lot of jokes this week.”

  “And you wanted to inaugurate the agony.”

  “My pleasure.”

  He pushed aside the curtain that separated him from his fellow E.R. sufferers and moved stiffly toward the exit. His left cheek felt numb. He no longer cared that the protective Macy’s bag lay at the bottom of a hazardous waste can. He just wanted to get home. What he really wanted was a return to the day before the Fourth of July.

  “Isabel said they saved us some of the dinner they picked up at Boston Market,” Chessie informed him as she followed him to the parking lot.
<
br />   “I’m not hungry.”

  “How long are you going to stay angry at me?”

  “If you don’t mind, I don’t feel up for a long drawn-out discussion.”

  “What’s really going on here, Nick?”

  He stopped short of the SUV where Martha sat reading a magazine. Damn, he’d forgotten the neighbors were involved. He turned to his wife. “What’s going on here? Frankly, I don’t know. You seem to be the one with all the answers. Trouble is, I don’t understand them.”

  He opened the double doors at the back of the SUV, and crawled in.

  Feeling shut out, Chessie climbed in the passenger side.

  “How’d it go?” Martha asked.

  “He’ll live.”

  “But will Eban’s dog?”

  “No jokes, Martha,” Nick said from the back. He sounded like a principal presiding at a rowdy assembly. “I’ve reached my quota.”

  When Martha shot Chessie a questioning look, Chessie mouthed, “Later.”

  They rode home in silence. Nick didn’t forget to thank Martha, but he didn’t stick around for Chessie to follow him into the house.

  “Call me if you need anything,” Martha said before backing across the street into her own driveway.

  It was eight-forty and starting to get dark, but there wasn’t a light in the house. Chessie entered the kitchen to stare at a sink full of Fourth-of-July dishes and a table littered with paper plates and containers of half-consumed takeout. The girls were nowhere in sight.

  She made her way upstairs. All three bedroom doors were closed. She knocked on the closest. Gabriella’s.

  “Go away!”

  “Gabby, what’s wrong?”

  “As if you didn’t know.”

  Chessie did know. Having witnessed the debacle on the square, her younger daughter would be mortified. She tried the knob only to find the door locked.

  “I said go away.”

  Perhaps they all needed a little breathing room. A little perspective. But she couldn’t resist the urge to reassure herself her family was at least minimally okay.