by S. E. Akers
She was certainly being pissy about the menu. I never see you making an attempt to prepare any meals around here, I grumbled quietly as I humored her little rant.
“Chloe, just grab a yogurt out of the fridge and quit your bitchin’. Heaven forbid you have a blow-out on the field tomorrow night. How embarrassing!” I exclaimed as I placed my hand over my mouth, pretending to gasp.
The little witch threw me a dirty look and then slammed the door in my face.
“Be ready in fifteen minutes,” I grunted through the door.
“Mike’s picking me up. You can leave ANY TIME you want!” Chloe yelled back.
“Good!” I snapped and dashed into my room. I quickly ran my fingers through my hair to make sure it was dry. The last thing I needed was the cold air outside hitting a damp head of hair. That thought sent a shiver straight down my spine. Once my jacket had been zipped snugly to the top, I grabbed my things and flew down the stairs, headed straight for the front door.
Despite the chilly morning air goading a speedy recovery, I finally found my car keys hiding in the bottom of my junky purse. Those weren’t as easy to “track” as any critters. I gazed at the old two-story farmhouse my father had built with his own two-hands as I waited patiently for my old ’69 Charger to crank-up. It was actually my father’s when he was my age, and it looked it too. But, hey — it was still a car. Thankfully the DMV of West Virginia still considered it one as well, or I wouldn’t have any way to get around this small hick-town. I didn’t mean to trash my hometown, but in reality, that’s what it was. No sense in candy-coating it.
A wave of anxiety hit me like a ton of bricks as I started my drive down the mountain. I never particularly liked the stretch of Shiloh Ridge that twisted along my daily path. It didn’t matter, come dusk or dawn, a foreboding feeling always rode shotgun with me. I kept my eyes on the road, my head in the present, and my foot firmly depressed on the gas pedal. Possibly a little too hard from time to time. The secure confines of my car helped, but today I felt eerily vulnerable — almost naked — like I was zooming past that godawful patch of land in a convertible waving a sign that read, “I’m right here black cloud of death!” Ugh! I wasn’t a scaredy-cat by nature, but there was something about that mist that was straight-up evil. A fact I still believed today and burned from the depths of my soul. And for some unknown reason “that particular day”, it had its sinister sights set on five-year old little me. In my eyes, Dorothy had it easy. The only thing yellow about my road were some fading double-lines, but a wicked witch with a horde of flying monkeys would have been a much fairer storm to weather.
I came to a “screeching” stop at the bottom of the mountain because Mike Riverside and his shiny red Camaro cut over into my lane when he veered onto the uphill road! Stupid, arrogant, ASS! Once my tirade of horn-blowing and finger-saluting had played out, I found myself idly parked and staring at Highway 52 in a haze. My mind egged me to veer right and “go straight”, but my heart inevitably turned my head to the left for a curious gander down the road. The bustling sights and sounds of the Riverside Pocahontas Coalmine hailed my attention like a caution flag. The parking lot alone looked way more crowded than usual.
Maybe the extra crews are because of the impending meeting today? Ugh! Mr. Riverside just can’t shut down the mine! Over half the town works there. I didn’t want to think about what its closing would do to the area or how devastating it would be for all the miners’ families — especially mine. The sight was only fueling my restlessness, so as soon as all the speeding coal trucks had whizzed past, I pulled onto the road for my mundane morning commute.
The temperature had turned considerably colder, even for early November. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if we had an early winter this year. Just thinking about the first snowfall made me reach over to crank up the heat a bit. This was the time of year when West Virginia’s countryside was truly spectacular — my favorite time. Nothing beat the beautiful colors of the fall foliage cascading over the mountains with a blazing autumn sunset igniting the sky. I treasured each and every one of them. You could be in the most horrible mood, and it would always lend you a better outlook on everything. Nature’s way of putting things into perspective.
And I really could have used one of them to lull me into a state of tranquility…Right freakin’ now!
I found myself thinking along the way (yet again), how EVERYTHING around here always remained the same. I drove past the Colemans’ house. Like clockwork, there they were, sitting outside on their front porch and rocking in their chairs while they watched the cars go by. A mile down the road, I spied our Chief of Police, Marc Roberts. As usual, he sat parked in his cruiser beside the Kwik-Serve, waiting in the shadows to bust one last speeder before their morning shift change. But one of my personal favorites was the Johnsons’ house. Their yard-full of faded plastic Christmas decorations and chunky colored-lights smothering their bushes stayed in place — ALL YEAR LONG — but they only turned them on from Thanksgiving to New Year’s Day. I guessed they had a little sense. Just a few more weeks and it would be time for their annual illumination. They were known around these parts as “The Griswolds”.
There was something sentimental, yet somber about my small hometown. I loved it and hated it, both at the same time. Welch was the only home I’d ever known, and even though I held many fond memories, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t meant to stay here forever. Absolutely nothing about my town ever changed, so I knew it had to be me. Something was churning restlessly inside me and had been for a good while. I longed for a change. Something unfamiliar. Something exciting. Something amazing that would fill my unworldly eyes with stars and knock me slick off my feet. And I knew I would never find it anywhere around here. Something that “spectacular” probably requires a passport.
BUT, in no way was I seeking A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G as horrifyingly mind-boggling as what I’d just revisited in my nightmarish dream. Spectacular, I thought with a resolute nod. Definitely not “spooky”!
My car wound through downtown Welch like it was on autopilot. The ornate architecture of the four and five story buildings lining McDowell Street was charming and reminiscent of a booming era that sadly had long passed. You wouldn’t know to look at it now, but our town used to be one of the wealthiest counties in the Appalachian region. Coal was Welch’s life-blood, but unfortunately through the years, its veins had almost dried up completely. There was once a time when our county was home to 38 different mines, but tragically it had dwindled down to just one. All the others had closed due to various reasons, but they all hinged on the mine’s profitability. If the owner wasn’t making money, then why keep a mine open? The union’s unwillingness to negotiate their contracts during hard times caused the owners to lose even more money and ultimately forced a lot of them into bankruptcy. Then there were several instances when the owners weren’t staying on top of the required safety regulations. The state supervisors would come in and shut them down themselves. A couple of sites had been excavated to their limits and simply couldn’t unearth any more coal. Our area’s economic industry was already depressing enough. I sure hoped the situation wouldn’t get any worse. It wasn’t like I was planning to hang around Welch for the rest of my life, but I didn’t want it to become a ghost town. There were too many good people who lived here and jobs were scarce. The livelihoods of all its residents would be shattered — possibly forever.
As my car cruised down our town’s main thoroughfare, I spotted Mr. Estell sitting alone on a bench outside the Flat Iron Drug Store. I didn’t know his first name. He was just one of those strange drifters who didn’t talk to many people, if any. Mr. Estell roamed the streets, always hunched over, with his hands shoved deep inside the pockets of his raggedy tan-colored trench coat. His black and white hair was never anything less than wiry and unkempt. Something about him gave me the willies — seriously — but it wasn’t in my nature to be rude to him just because he was different. I’d always tried my best to steer cl
ear of him. Funny thing though, he always seemed to be “popping up”.
Especially here lately, I pondered.
It didn’t take any time at all to breeze through town. Why should it? There were only two traffic lights and one of them just blinked. The sun was starting to peek through the clouds, shining brightly down on Welch High School, home of the Golden Knights. Our school sat majestically on the side of a mountain, proudly overlooking the entire town. Its bold, streamlined Art Deco design made it a symbolic addition to Welch’s rich history.
I turned up the winding road that led to the school’s upper parking lot. An early arrival guaranteed you a prime spot on top. Since Chloe was notorious for making me late, I usually had to park in the lower student lot, located at the bottom of the hill. Trekking up that thing on a cold day was a bitch — snow made it extremely hazardous. I’d busted my butt plenty of times going up and down those steps in the winter. Ouch!
I’d just pulled into a space next to the Math and Sciences building when a series of beeps coming from my cell sent my hand digging down into my purse. Once located, pulled it out and read my latest text. I was only partially happy that Charlie had honored my request.
Saturday is yours, honey
Naomi will cover your shift.
Have fun at the dance!
What made his scripted reply even worse was that I hadn’t given him a specific reason “why” I needed off from work. Crap! Paranoia is cruel bitch — especially in a small-town like Welch. He couldn’t possibly know that I’m going to the dance or “who” I’m going with…Could he? I let out a grunt, grabbed my stuff, slammed the door of my Charger, and headed straight for my homeroom.
I’ll do quick review for my Geology test. I’ve got plenty of time. It couldn’t hurt, and I desperately needed something to distract me from thinking about Mike and the dance or even the fateful meeting at 3 o’clock — pretty much anything and everything that was looming over my head like a dreary dark cloud.
There was my best friend, Katie Stowell, already sitting at her desk when I entered the classroom. She was flipping through a fashion magazine while she twisted the dainty diamond pendant on the end of her necklace.
Katie glanced up and threw me a sly grin, one that wasn’t sitting too well with my gut. Oh yeah, I thought as I edged closer. “Smug” would have been tolerable, but unfortunately it screamed what I affectionately called,“shit-taé”.
Not good.
“Well, lookie there…If it isn’t the future Mrs. Riverside,” Katie pronounced with the straightest of faces. She almost looked disappointed that she didn’t have a trumpet to sound.
“How in the heck do you know about THAT?” I demanded, too flustered to be one-hundred percent discreet.
Katie shrugged her shoulders. “I heard some of the cheerleaders talking about it in the hall,” my BFF replied, trying to pretend she wasn’t hurt that the proverbial “horse” didn’t “whinny” out the news to her first. I mean seriously, we’ve been “best friends” since kindergarten.
“Holy Hell,” I groaned. “The whole school will know by the end of the day.”
“If not by lunch,” Katie smirked. “I just can’t believe you’re actually doing it. You HATE Mike Riverside.”
“What can I say…They guilted me into it,” I shamefully proclaimed and proceeded to divulge a rendition of the terrible-twosome’s melodrama from last night to a T. “Trust me,” I concluded. “It’ll only be for a couple of hours. I’m already planning a reason for Mike to suddenly have to take me home.”
“What did Mike say?” Katie probed.
“I have no idea…and I couldn’t care less,” I answered as flung backpack under my desk.
“You should care,” Katie insisted. “I don’t trust that sneaky bastard. What if he tries…something?”
I laughed hysterically. “That’s crazy! I’m NOT his ‘type’! I think it’s a well-known fact around school that my legs are locked-at-the-knees. He won’t try anything. After all, he hasn’t messed with me since First Grade…in any respect.” Mike Riverside had tried to steal my lunch once when we were little. I picked up the first thing I could find and wailed him over the head with it. Unfortunately for him, it was a bright-yellow metal Tonka truck someone had brought in for Show-and-Tell. Ouch! I had to sit in the corner during recess for two weeks — but after that, he never tried stealing my lunch again.
Katie giggled. “Does he still have a scar on his head?”
“I’m not sure,” I pondered with a grin. “Possibly…I’ll ask him when we’re out on our date. That’ll be a great conversation starter.”
We had a little more fun laughing at Mike’s expense, but I honestly didn’t know if going to the dance with him was a sensible idea or not. Either way, I had a feeling it would be a memorable evening.
Katie scooted closer. “Okay, enough about that. Have you heard ANYTHING about the mine?” It seemed my best friend was just as worried and rightfully so. Even though her parents owned the local jewelry store, if half the town lost their jobs, their business would be drastically effected by its closing as well.
“There’s a meeting today at 3 o’clock,” I replied. “I’m going to race over there after school. Daddy said I could stop by.”
“Please remember to take your cell,” Katie pleaded. “And I want updates every five minutes.”
“I’ll try,” I promised.
“Good,” Katie said with a nod as she turned back around. My best friend leaned back in her chair, never giving me the slightest glance. “So tell me, Shi. How are you going to break the news to Chloe about the inevitable nuptials this chance ‘date’ will bring forth, or even worse…how will you soften the sting to Charlotte?”
I gave Katie a good-natured whack on the back of her head. “Oh, I think I’ll just drop them a postcard while we’re on our honeymoon.” We both giggled a bit at that ridiculous notion.
“Katie, I don’t want to talk about Mike anymore…or anything to do with the mine. Let’s just review for our Geology test, okay?” I was being very adamant (and maybe a bit bossy) about the parameters of our homeroom time.
Katie whirled her head around in one dramatic and playfully offended huff. “Boy, you haven’t even been out with Mike yet, and you’re already acting as high & mighty as he does. You’ll fit into the Riverside family just fine,” she insisted with a cutesy nod before turning back around. She just had to get in that last dig.
I tugged on the back of her necklace. “I’ll be sure to tell him not to purchase my engagement ring from your parents’ shop.” My tone let my BFF know that I’d had enough of her witty jabs.
Katie tilted her head as she leaned back. “I really don’t see the point in me breaking my neck for an ‘A’ on this test…or ANY TEST,” she huffed. “You know my parents are just humoring me with college. All they want is for me to get a business degree so I can come back here and run ‘their’ store.”
Sadly, her claim wasn’t off-base. Ron and Julia Stowell had affectionately teased on many occasions that Katie was their little “retirement plan”.
“Just think, Katie…That’s still four years of freedom,” I insisted, hoping to put a hint of a smile back on her perfectly-painted face. “Six if you can talk them into Grad-School.”
“Maybe ten if I carry a light load and flunk a few courses,” Katie said with an artful laugh.
Well, at least she had a plan.
“I like your new do,” I whispered as I flipped the back of her hair. Katie had chopped off her long brunette locks to her shoulders and added a few fire-engine red streaks. It was all shaggy, and the ends flipped up every which way. It really complemented her oval face, and the highlights made her amber eyes sparkle.
“Thank you for noticing,” Katie gushed as she ran her fingers through her hair and shook it playfully.
What a diva! Katie was always “in vogue”— from head to toe. I was too comfortable and set in my ways to ever try a daring, new look. I really admired my best frie
nd’s courage when it came to changing up her style. Everything she tried looked great on her — without fail — whether it was trendy or classic (or even an eclectic mix of both). Katie was undeniably a “fashionista”, unlike me, who she affectionately referred to as “ponytail”.
The first period bell rang before long, kicking off yet another normal school day. Mrs. Thompson, our Statistics teacher, gave us only one problem for our daily assignment. The calculations, regrettably, took up the entire forty-five minutes and only a few of us finished.
During second period Literature, we discussed Hamlet, which most of the class still hadn’t read. Mr. Jackson didn’t seem that upset about it. What he actually appeared to be was “fidgety” or possibly borderline “distracted”.
I suppose if the mine shuts down, a lot of our teachers will lose their jobs, too — particularly if half the school’s student body is forced to relocate.
We had a pop-quiz in third period Government. I didn’t see that one coming, but I did pretty well. The substitute who was sitting in for our regular teacher, Mr. Connors, gave us the rest of the period, so I got a chance to review for my Geology exam. I didn’t need much prep, mainly a speedy skim of the last two chapters on rocks and minerals. I had to admit that learning about all the earth’s wonders was fascinating — with the notable exception of coal. I couldn’t care less if I ever saw another hunk of the dirty black stuff for the rest of my life. Coal was the only thing keeping this town afloat, but when you’ve grown up in a coalmining community your entire life, all you want is to get away from it — as soon as possible. There was a big, clean coal-less world out there, and I wanted to experience as much of it as I could.
I didn’t want to be held prisoner here forever, like Katie. She’s probably right. She’ll go off to college only to be ordered home by her parents after she graduates, inevitably to run their jewelry store. At least she’ll be stuck here with a decent job. I found it equally upsetting that Charlotte’s grand plan for Chloe was marrying her off to Mike Riverside (the sooner the better). I can see it now — a wedding band on her finger, her high school diploma in one hand, and a baby diaper in the other. That vision caused a chill to run down my spine.
