In the distance, I hear mother calling for us. Lunch is ready. I'm suddenly not hungry, and even the thought of Xander arriving soon can't wholly remedy this dysphoric feeling.
I draw Aurora in close, wrapping my arms around her. "You and me, it's a forever kind of thing. And that will never change."
The sound of the grill sizzling grows louder as Aurora and I walk back to the house and through the iron rod gate bordering our backyard. August had invited some of his dweeb-y little friends and they're now running around trying to spray each other with the water hose. If so much as a drop of water gets on my dress, I swear I'm gonna throw that little punk off The Bluff.
Father stands behind the grill, appearing to be enjoying himself very much. It isn't often we grill out, but I can tell he enjoys it. Must be a guy thing; emphasizes his manliness or something. He hands me a plate with a burger on it, knowing very well I don't eat red meat, then laughs at the repulsed expression I must have on my face. Beef is just so disgusting. It's all goo-y and dripping with blood and you have no idea what goes on at the slaughter house. Instead, I move past the grill to a table covered with a red and white checkered blanket and make myself a salad. Meanwhile, Aurora stacks her plate high with a two patty burger and a hot dog beside it, then layers it with lettuce and pepper-jack cheese and tomatoes and onions.
We were just sitting down on the lawn chairs when mother comes over. "Kenzie, while you were out on The Bluff a boy called saying he wouldn't be able to make it today."
Disappointment grips me. "Did he say why?"
"I'm not entirely sure, dear; something about needing to meet with representatives from some college." Go figure. I knew the possibility of spending time with Xander was too good to be true. Turns out I put on this nice dress for nothing.
We finish eating and I set the salad bowl down on the Bermuda grass of our lawn, then lay my head against the chair. The sky is starting to turn an eerie grayish-blue color. The rain that had repressed during the ceremony looks as if it will return, this time to unleash its watery wrath upon the earth. August and his friends are now doing cannonballs in the swimming pool, ignoring mother's admonishing tone to get out of the water for fear of lightning. A few minutes later, a bolt of lightning zigzags across the darkened sky followed by a crack of thunder. August and his friends squeal like the little girls they are and race inside the house dripping wet. Everyone else scrambles to bring the food inside before the rain starts to fall. It was then mother noticed we had run out of hot dog buns. She asks if father can run to the store and get some more, but I offer to do it instead. I'll get Aurora to come, too. I figure it will give me some time alone with her; hopefully she'll open up about how she's feeling. She's hasn't said much since discovering her application was rejected, and I don't like that's she's being this quiet. She's never quiet. Like, never ever.
I head upstairs to change into jeans and sneakers, expecting that I'll have to brave the rain at some point, and slap on Hawks baseball cap, pulling my ponytail though the opening in the back. Aurora is already waiting for me by the time I come back downstairs. August and his friend are now playing video games in the theater room and mom is yelling for them to not sit on the theater chairs with their soggy swim trunks.
A daring thought strikes my brain.
What if I were to take my Mustang instead of the Benz? No one would have to know. The store is only a few miles up the road; I can be back within an hour and mother and father wouldn't have to be the wiser. I just need the key.
While mother attempts to shoo the boys off the chairs and upstairs to change, I tiptoe to father's den. I hear his voice coming from the other room, so I think it's safe to say he and James are watching the golf channel. At least I hope they are. Golf is quite possibly the only sport that can hold father's attention for more than five minutes at a time. I can't fathom why; it's incredibly boring, but right now I don't care. Such activity should allow me enough time to sneak into his den, grab the car key, and slip out without being caught. I never thought I'd say this, but I think I just found a reason to be thankful for the game of golf.
The drawer in which father had tossed the car key squeaks loudly as I pull it open. I stop halfway, cringing from its obnoxiously loud protest, then force myself to continue. There's a notepad and calculator inside along with a few ink pens. Beneath the notepad is the key! I lay my fingers on it. A rush of wind abruptly swarms behind me. I jump from fright and snap my head around – Bacon Danger, our cat, had leaped off the bookshelf and onto the back of father's office chair. I hate that thing so much! I'll never forgive August for bringing it home. A few months ago, he came home from school with this ugly - and ugly is being kind - looking cat. I'm not even sure if it deserves to be called a cat. He begged mother to let him keep it, and for whatever reason, she said yes. I later did some research on it and discovered it's called a Sphynx cat. Unless you wish to have nightmares every night for the rest of your life, don't look them up. Trust me. It's just plain creepy looking. As for his name, I have no valid answer. Mother gave August the privilege of naming him the day he brought him home, and thanks to August's juvenile mind, he gave him the stupidest name in the history of names: Bacon Danger.
"You stupid cat, you scared me half to death." I keep my voice low, then shoo the mangy thing out of the room.
Then suddenly I hear father's voice grow louder, followed by footsteps – he's moving in this direction! I slide the drawer closed, but it gets stuck halfway from a stray piece of paper wedging itself between the grid. The wood floors tremble from father's footsteps – he's coming! I consider leaving the drawing halfway open, but if I do, he'll notice it's open and then see that the key is gone. Can't back out now. I quickly jam my fingers between the grooves of the grid and free the paper and slide the drawer fully closed. Father's shadow dances on the hallway wall. I drop to my knees and curl up underneath his desk, key in hand. He enters the den, the bottom of his feet scraping against the floor. He's murmuring to himself, wondering where his reading glasses are. I hold my breath as he circles around behind his desk, knowing that if I exhale he'll no doubt feel it on his legs. This would be a really bad time to sneeze. A few seconds later he mutters something in delight, then walks out of the room. I release the air from my lungs in a long sigh of relief.
But now, I can take my graduation present for a test-drive!
Chapter 11
I was thirteen when I snuck out after curfew to attend Chrissy Wilcox's party. It was a middle school graduation thing; celebrating the fact we'd soon be high school students. I used the oak tree outside my bedroom window to slip outside and escaped through the side gate down below. At the time, Chrissy had a boyfriend three years older than she was; he was sixteen, and barely legal to drive. He came and picked me up at the end of the street. I remember feeling like he was so grown up and mature, seeing him expertly drive his mom's Honda Odyssey minivan. Now, with me being seventeen, I feel like such an idiot for feeling that way. He was just a child then. It's truly amazing he didn't get us killed or at the very least pulled-over by a cop. Chrissy's family didn't live far from us, but I remember having doubts the whole way there and wondering if sneaking out was such a good idea, and what would happen if I were to get caught. All mother or father would have to do is check on me while I was sleeping, which they used to do from time to time when I was younger, and then realize I wasn't there. I would be totally grounded for an entire year!
Turns out, that's exactly what happened. Mother freaked out and starting calling every one of my friend's parents, everyone I've ever spoken to, texted, e-mailed, tweeted, and snapchatted since birth; I think she even called the deli lady at Walmart – in a frantic rage of tears and desperation to find me. It was something like a quarter past two in the morning when mother and father, along with a half asleep three year old August, arrived at the Wilcox's. And no, mother couldn't be civilized and reasonable about her arrival. She just had to scream and holler, shouting how grounded I was and how much trouble I wa
s in, and how I wouldn't see the light of day until I was old enough to have grandchildren. Fortunately, father being the well-balanced and composed individual that he is, was able to calm her down. Although, I still suffered severe punishment. I had to squeegee all the tile in our swimming pool each month for a year. But never did I think I would top an adventure such as that one.
That is until today.
I can feel my heart pound harder inside of my chest, throbbing against my ribcage in an attempt to break free. The needle on the speedometer flickers up and down. It still has that new car smell. I'm having one of those moments where I feel as if I need to slap myself every couple of seconds to ensure that this isn't a dream.
What if I get caught? There's a knot in the pit of my stomach twisting itself tighter at the thought. Should I turn around, slip the car back inside the garage before anyone notices it's missing? A portion of my conscience tells me that's what I should do, but the vast majority commands me to press onward!
I press my foot down on the accelerator.
Aurora still hasn't said a word since we left the house. She lays her head against the rain splattered window, eyes lazily following the raindrops as they slide down the glass. I can't bear to see her like this any longer, so I try to cheer her up. "I was thinking while we're at the store we can pick up some peanut butter cup ice cream. Does that sound like a good idea?" She just shrugs, and not even a full shrug at that.
By the time we arrive at the grocery store the rain had waned to barely a drizzle, but the humidity had spiked. My hair is so going to frizz! I'll have to buy some non-frizzing shampoo while I'm here. The parking lot is nearly empty. Guess the rain drove most of the customers away for the time being. I pull into a parking spot right next to the handicap section.
Aurora unlatches her seat belt and shoves herself out the door. As we walk up to the building, an elderly woman carrying a brown paper bag stuffed with groceries stumbles through the automatic doors and out onto the sidewalk. The skin on her hands is shriveled and pale looking, and her arms are these thin little twigs. I'm gauging her to be close to eighty years of age. Her eyes barely surpass the baguette and other groceries protruding from inside the bag. She stumbles around some more, feeling around with her foot for where the sidewalk drops off into the parking lot. The length of the curb is covered with water from the previous rain. The woman steps off the sidewalk, her foot plunging right into a rain puddle.
"No, don't!" Aurora rushes forward, but it happens too quickly.
The woman's foot slides out from underneath her and she collapses to the concrete, her frail body slamming hard. The bag of groceries falls along with her, spilling its contents over the parking lot.
"Are you okay? Are you hurt? Hello?" Aurora slides her hand behind the woman's head and lifts it slightly, cradling her in her arms.
"O-o-oh. Y-yes. I think so." She rubs her wrinkled elbow. "Where did you come from, dear?" The woman peers up at Aurora with appreciation in her pale, blue eyes.
"Me and my friend were walking up when you fell. I saw the whole thing. Your foot slipped on the moist concrete." Aurora helps the woman to her feet and then chases the runaway groceries.
The woman begins to gather up groceries as well, bending over to snatch an apple rolling across the parking lot. I just kind of stand off to the side unsure if I should help or go inside the store. This humidity is really messing up my hairdo. I can feel it trying to frizz out right underneath this baseball cap. It looks like the two of them have it under control, so I check to see if Xander has texted.
Aurora carefully places a head of lettuce and a tree of bananas back inside the brown bag. "My name's Aurora by the way."
"Oh! That's such a pretty name. I'm Mae. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your help."
"It's no problem. May I take these to your car?" Aurora doesn't wait for an answer; she grabs the paper bag from Mae's hands.
"Aren't you just the sweetest thing. My car's over this way."
I stay planted on the sidewalk, while they venture over to the car. It's this long thing, grayish-black in color. Looks like a Lincoln; the type of Lincoln your grandparents own that can fit like, forty people inside and ten more in its humongous trunk. Aurora moves over to the passenger side of the car and places the bag on the floor. The two talk for a moment. Aurora's face blooms into a smile. That's the first smile I've seen since she received the rejection letter. Mae passes something from her hand to Aurora's; it's small and crumbled up. Looks like money. Aurora takes a step back and shakes her head politely. Mae tries again, but Aurora seems insistent. Mae then wraps her feeble arms around Aurora and they hug.
Aurora comes over to me after Mae had driven away. I wipe my forehead, feeling sticky from this intense humidity. "Finally. I'd thought you two would never part. I was about to leave you out here and go inside where it's cool."
"You could have helped, ya know."
"I know." She brushes past me and into the store without another word.
She can't possibly still be mad because I got accepted into college and she didn't. And it has nothing to do with the fact that my family's rich and hers isn't. Okay, maybe it does. But that's not the point. There have been tons of people through the ages who grew up poor and transformed into very successful individuals. She just needs to accept the fact that failure and rejection will come knocking on everyone's door at one point or another in our lives. And this time, it was her door that got knocked on, not mine.
We peruse the frozen goods section. Aurora begins to stock up on ice cream like a global heat wave is coming. I drop the bag of hot dog buns in the shopping cart. "Think you got enough fro-yo there, Rora?"
"Okay, first of all, one can never have too much fro-yo. And secondly, I'm stress eating. Well, at least I will be once I crack open this lid and dive my spoon straight into its luscious goodness."
"Stress eating? Right. What's this about anyway? Are you mad at me for getting into college?" She turns away and pushes the cart down the aisle. "I'll take that as a yes."
She stops in front of the prepackaged pizza rolls and opens the freezer door. "I'm not mad. It's just-" she tosses the pizza rolls in the cart. "I dunno. I just really wanted to get accepted. Since I was six, I've always had the mindset that I would one day make a difference in the world. Discover new planets, cure diseases, fight world hunger. And I really thought getting into this school was my ticket to greatness." She hangs her head. "Guess I was wrong."
I rest my hand on her shoulder. "You don't need a college degree to make a difference, Rora. I mean, take Henry Ford for example; the guy didn't even graduate high school for crying out loud, and yet he still went on to create one of the largest automobile manufacturing companies this world has ever seen! Or the fact that Steven Spielberg was denied acceptance into film school, but such a setback didn't faze him in ultimately becoming the co-founder of Dreamworks Studios. Or even Abraham Lincoln; he didn't even know how to read or write until age twenty-three, but that didn't prevent him from being the most lovable U.S. president who ever lived."
"He also was assassinated."
I pause. "True."
She looks down at the bag of pizza rolls. "I'm doomed to be nothing more than a pizza maker, aren't I?"
"Que sera, sera."
"What does that mean?"
"It means whatever will be will be. We can't predict the future no more than we can change the past. And if you do turn out to be nothing more than a pizza maker, well, then that's one pizza I would certainly eat."
She places a hand over her heart. "That is the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me. Thanks, Bestie."
I laugh and wrap my arm around her neck. "Whattya say we take these pizza rolls and ice cream and watch a chick flick in my room."
"I'd like that very much."
As we make our way to the checkout, the line is several people deep, so we decide to use the self-checkout machine instead. Aurora slides her items over the electronic scanner and I bag them for her
. A harsh beep sounds as she slides her credit card through the machine. "Huh? That's weird. Its says my card's been denied." She tries again, but the same result occurs. Her bottom lip curls inward in concern.
"Here. I'll use mine." I slide my card through the machine and it gets accepted immediately. "It was probably just a glitch or something."
"Yeah. Probably." She walks out of the store with a concerned look still evident on her face.
We start for home and begin wondering how I'll get this car back into the garage unnoticed. I hope father doesn't decide to work out there later; he may smell fresh exhaust if he does.
I check again to see if Xander had texted me - still nothing. The rain is starting to pick up now; big, fat raindrops pelt the windshield.
"Must you do that now? Can't it wait til we get home?" Aurora complains from the passenger seat.
"I'm just checking to see if I got any messages. Chill, okay?"
"Chill? It's raining cats and dogs right now and you're on your phone!"
"Fine." I drop my phone inside my purse, and as an added bonus to appease Aurora, I switch my windshield wipers to a faster setting.
About a minute later I hear the sharp notification whistle of my phone go off. The twisty knot in my stomach is telling me I shouldn't pick it up. Aurora's right, it is raining pretty hard right now. The sky is canvassed with ominous looking clouds. It's only a quarter passed four in the afternoon, but the storm makes it appear like it's a lot later. But what if it's from Xander? I've been anxiously waiting to hear from him. My curiosity is getting the best of me. I need to know. I'll make it quick. If it's him, I won't even reply right now. I'll wait until I'm home and not driving, then I'll reply.
I take my eyes off the road for less than two seconds and reach for my phone. The steering wheel shudders as the tires slide on the moist asphalt. I tighten my grip with my left hand, fingers sliding in between the grooves of the steering wheel, and use my right hand to withdraw my phone from my purse. I flip the lock screen off with my thumb. Yes! It is a text from Xander. I speed-read it, consciously switching my vision back to the road every couple of seconds.
Paraplegic Page 9
