In Plain Sight

by Amy Sparling

  She grins and reaches for the keys to her new car. “I want to do something fun and drastic. I know! Let’s get our nails done. Hair, too.”

  I hate myself for getting excited at the idea of something we could never afford to do a few days ago. But . . . “That sounds fun,” I say, unable to hide my grin.

  At a nearby salon, Mom and I sit in these fancy massage chairs with tubs of hot water at the bottom. Professionally skilled nail techs scrub the callouses off our feet and trim our toenails and paint them and everything. It is amazing.

  I knew people got pedicures, but I just figured that meant getting their nails painted. I had no idea how much went into it. It’s so relaxing I could die.

  Mom doesn’t stop grinning in my direction, and when both our feet and hands look like a movie star’s, she turns to me, giving me a coy look.

  “I think we should do something drastic to our hair.”

  “Like what?” I say. My hair is brown, a little longer than my shoulders, and very very plain. I’ve never had a real haircut before—at least not one in a salon. Mom has a pair of hair shears and she’s the one who gives us basic hair trimming when we need it.

  We pay for our manicures and pedicures and then head over to the hair salon next door. “Hmm,” she says, gazing at the photos of hair models all over the wall. “I’m thinking I should get some highlights, and maybe a nice trim to get rid of my split ends.”

  “Okay, I’ll do that too,” I say, suddenly eager to sit in one of the chairs and have someone else with actual talent do my hair for a change. As much as I’m trying not to be materialistic, I’m really having fun.

  But maybe that’s okay. This is our “new life” as Mom keeps saying. Maybe I’m allowed to have fun.

  Our stylist’s name is Bae, and she’s tall and beautiful and has an amazing Jamaican accent. She loves mom’s highlight idea, but when it’s my turn to explain the style I want, Mom says, “Are you sure you want the same as me?”

  “You don’t have to choose right away,” Bae says thoughtfully while she plays with my hair in front of a mirror. “We can do your mom’s first, then you can decide.”

  “I don’t really know what else to do,” I say, shrugging. “I mean, anything will be better than my boring hair now.”

  “What do you suggest?” Mom asks Bae. “We’re celebrating starting our lives over new and fresh, so I think Maddie should do something big and bold.”

  Bae purses her lips while she thinks it over. “Do you go to RCHS?”

  I nod and her eyes light up. “They don’t have a hair dress code in that school, so you could do a wild color if you’d like.”

  Mom’s lips form an o. “Ooooh, you should, Maddie! I think that would look so cool! Maybe a rainbow of colors?”

  Bae nods. “I could do that.”

  I bite my lip. Drastic hair colors? I’ve never even considered it. But we are starting over, and this is a new life, no matter how much I might still think of myself as poor trailer trash.

  Plus, Colby thought I was a new girl.

  What if I really become a new girl?

  My lips twist into a smile and I turn to Bae. “Yes, let’s do it. Only I’m thinking pink. Can you do pink?”

  Bae nods, twisting a strand of my boring brown hair around her thin finger. “Totally, honey. I can do as pink as you want.”

  Chapter 12

  Josh hovers over my shoulder, casting a shadow from the bright sun overhead. “Come on, man,” he says. “Do it.”

  We’re sitting on these fancy lounge chairs that his mom and sister use to get a tan. There’s even a hole in the back of it for your face to fit in when you’re lying on your stomach.

  “I don’t know, man.” I set my phone in my lap and gaze out at the clear pool water. His pool is way nicer than ours, but then again his parents are a lot richer. “This seems kind of gross.”

  “Dude, tons of hot girls at your fingertips isn’t gross,” Josh says, sitting on the chair next to mine. He lays back and rests his hands behind his head. “It’s genius.”

  I glance back at my phone, which is on the download screen for a local dating app. All I have to do is press the download button and I’ll be on my way to, what the app calls, thousands of eligible singles near you!

  “I’m not sure any meaningful relationship is ever made through a phone app,” I say with a grimace.

  “Colby,” Josh says all serious like. He sits up and turns sideways on the chair, lacing his fingers together, elbows on his knees. “You’re still a teenager. Chances are, you aren’t going to find a meaningful relationship right now.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “So why not have a little fun?”

  I lay back, letting my head fit into the head hole in this chair as I gaze up at the blue sky. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into this crap,” I mutter. And then I download the stupid app.

  Josh shows me how to set it up, but it’s pretty easy. I put in my first name only, my age, and zip code. Then he makes me upload a picture, which he takes of me right now, so I’m wearing blue board shorts and no shirt, which kind of makes me feel like a douche. Josh swears it’s a good thing.

  “So now we just wait?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “Or you can start picking girls yourself.” On his own phone, he goes to the app and starts scrolling through pictures of girls within a twenty-mile radius. If you like them—based on picture alone, which isn’t very romantic if you ask me—you heart their profile and they’ll be alerted.

  Josh hearts just about everyone.

  “I think I’ll wait and see who likes me first,” I say, setting my phone on the concrete below my chair. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

  He laughs. “For someone who’s brother was so damn prolific with girls, I don’t know why you suck so much at getting one.”

  “I know why,” I say, taking in a deep breath so I can let it out in a sigh. “I actually care about what kind of girl I date. Greg dated anyone with nice boobs.”

  “True,” Josh says. “I used to be like you, man. I’ve broken out of that, though.”

  This is a topic we haven’t talked about, but I kind of wish we would. Of course, guys don’t often get all mushy and emotional with each other. We’re supposed to talk about “hot chicks” and only that. But the truth is, I’ve always been envious of my best friend.

  Josh has had three serious girlfriends in his life, all of them lasting over a year. For teenagers, that’s kind of a big deal. He’s always seemed like the luckiest guy out of all of us—a pretty girl who cares about him on his arm at all of our parties. But last year, his last girlfriend, Elise, broke up with him for a guy in college at Texas A & M. It broke his heart, and he’s transformed himself into a player ever since. He’s dated probably a dozen girls since school started in August, and he acts like it makes him happy, but I’m not so sure it does.

  “So, are you done having real relationships?” I ask, pushing dangerously close to the edge of what’s acceptable to ask your guy best friend.

  “Not done, done. Just . . . taking a break, I guess.” Josh scrolls through girls on his dating app, making little facial expressions of approval or disapproval for each one. It’s kind of barbaric, really, making a snap judgement of if a human being is worthy of dating based on their looks alone.

  And it’s not even their looks really, but just one single photo. I never look the same in every photo. Some make me look like a total troll, and others make me kind of, well, proud of my abs, that’s for sure.

  My phone buzzes like crazy, and I reach down and grab it. “Six new likes,” I say, going to the app.

  “Nice,” Josh says, nodding in approval. He still hasn’t taken his eyes off his phone.

  I look through the photos of the girls who have all liked me. Well, some of them are girls. Two of my likes are women in their fifties. They’re both married and looking for something “with no strings attached”. Uh, no thank you.

  “Can I put an age limit on this thing?” I ask, fe
eling like a total douche for declining these women’s offers. It’s just the tap of a red x on the screen, but I still feel bad. I wonder if the app will tell them I wasn’t interested?

  “Yeah, you can limit your options, but why would you?” Josh says.

  “I’m not interested in hooking up with a fifty-four-year-old who has a husband,” I say.

  He laughs. “True that. Who else likes you?”

  “A girl named Dia. She has face tattoos and her profile says she’s currently three months pregnant.”

  “Uhhhh, pass,” Josh says. He’s hovering over my shoulder now. “Who’s next?”

  The next girl is pretty, with long brown hair and a full figure. She seems normal from her profile, but she lives a hundred and thirty miles away. So much for searching within my zip code.

  The last like on my list?

  “Damn!” Josh says, slapping me on the back. “You snagged an M again. Nice.”

  It’s Maria.

  “No way in hell,” I say, trying really hard not to throw my phone into the pool and be done with it. I press the x next to her ridiculously inappropriate profile photo and drop my phone on my lap.

  “She’s hot and she’s totally into you,” Josh says. “Could be fun for a while.”

  “Been there, done that, remember? It’s not happening again.”

  “You’re no fun,” Josh says, shaking his head.

  “Honestly man, I just want a real girlfriend. Like, the real thing.” I feel stupid saying it out loud, but it’s the truth.

  “I know,” Josh says quietly. “I do, too. But my mom says that kind of shit doesn’t happen when we’re young. You have to be like twenty-five before you can even attempt to settle down with the right girl. Apparently we’re not mature enough, and all that shit.”

  “Bullshit.” I shake my head, something like anger tearing at my heart. I want the real thing. I want it now. I want to be a loving boyfriend to a girl who loves me back. I’m not too young for that and I refuse to be told I can’t find something real right here and right now.

  My phone beeps with a new text message.

  Maria: Colby Jensen seeking love through a dating app? Never thought I’d see the day.

  Me: Why the hell are you on there? Surely you harass enough guys in person on a daily basis.

  Maria: Only you, sweetheart. Xoxoxo

  I roll my eyes so hard they almost fall out. Luckily, Josh is absorbed in liking photos of girls on his phone that the doesn’t ask who I’m talking to. I’d hate to lie to him.

  I type up another text and hope she gets the hint.

  Me: Good luck finding Mr. Right.

  While Josh chats up girls on his app, I decide to dive into the pool and try to take my mind off how I’m so pathetically in love with the idea of being in love. Not for the first time, Maddie’s adorable heart shaped face appears in my mind.

  I close my eyes and dive toward the bottom of the pool, trying to think of anything but her, that cute way she smiles when she thinks I’m not looking, and the intoxicating smell of her coconut shampoo.

  She’s one of the elite, I remind myself. She’s not into me. I can’t give her anything she’d want.

  I kick the bottom of the pool and swim back to the surface. Stop thinking of Maddie, stop thinking of Maddie, stop thinking of Maddie.

  Maybe if I keep saying it, I’ll be able to actually do it.

  Chapter 13

  The last four days have been a dream come true. A surreal, insane, wonderful dream. I’ve spent most of my time with my mom and sisters, out at the pool or watching movies in the theater. And yes, Landon has a theater. He says it came with the house and he’s never really used it before we moved in.

  It has twenty reclining leather theater chairs that rise up toward the back of the room so that everyone has a good view, a massive TV screen, dark walls and a real popcorn maker. Between that, his pool table, the swimming pool, and our gorgeous bedrooms, there’s really no reason to ever leave the house.

  And now I have my own shiny platinum Visa card with my name on it. Landon and Mom gave it to me last night, saying they want me to be able to buy things I need without worrying about money. Although I thanked Landon profusely, I don’t want to use his money. It’s just weird.

  Of course, what’s even weirder than being given a credit card with no limit, is the question he just asked me at the breakfast table.

  “Um, excuse me?” I say over a bite of pancakes. Surely I heard my future step-dad wrong. There is just no freaking way.

  “Well . . . you’re seventeen,” Landon says, cutting into his pancakes with his fork. “The school buses don’t run on this part of town, and you need a reliable mode of transportation. Rose and I had a blast buying her car, and so I’d love to take you to get your own car today.”

  Mom brightens, like she’s been waiting all day for him to spring this offer on me. “I have an idea,” she says, smiling so wide I can see nearly all of her teeth. “Why don’t you and Landon go car shopping together and I’ll stay here with the girls? That way you can get some bonding time in.”

  “I would be delighted,” Landon says. He looks at me with this proud yet nervous smile, and I can tell he really wants to make a good impression on me. But he’s already done enough to win my praise and my recommendation to Mom.

  A car?

  I really don’t need a car.

  “Thanks, but . . . I don’t want to ask that much of you.”

  “It’s not asking much,” Landon says. “I’ve always wanted my own kids, but I never had any, and buying them a car has always been a dream of mine. I’m a car guy, after all.”

  I gnaw on my lip as I remember the tour he gave us the day we moved in. The garage is nearly as big as the house, and Landon has a truck, a Jeep, and three fixed up classic cars that are probably worth a ton of money.

  “Well, I mean . . . if you really want to,” I say, turning to look at Mom. My bright pink hair falls over my shoulder, still a surprise to see since I’m not used to it.

  “I do want to,” Landon says.

  “You need a new car!” Emma says, shoving a huge mouthful of sausages mixed with pancakes and syrup in her mouth. “You need a blue car!”

  “Red car!” Starla says, grinning her little toddler grin.

  “Or a pink car,” Mom says, throwing me a wink.

  I swallow and set my fork down. The sheer idea of getting a brand new car just given to me is so exciting and scary that I’m not even hungry anymore. “Okay,” I say, partly because cars are awesome and also because I don’t feel I have much of a choice. “Let’s go car shopping.”

  #

  Landon stops for Starbucks on the way to the dealership. I feel kind of stupid because I have no idea what to order and the menu is so varied that I can’t really decide. We’ve never had money for luxuries like five-dollar coffee before.

  I ask Landon to choose for me, and he orders two Java chip frappuccinos. It is delicious, and I totally approve.

  “So, how are you settling in to your new life?” he asks when we pull out of the Starbucks drive through and head back onto the highway.

  “It’s definitely crazy, but I’m adjusting,” I say with a little laugh. “I really am grateful for all you’re doing for us.”

  “I’m happy to,” he says. “I’m sorry it’s all happened so fast. We didn’t mean for that at all, and Rose and I both kind of kept things reserved at first. I didn’t let her know how wealthy I was, and she—” He heaves a sigh, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “She didn’t tell me how bad things were for you guys. I knew she wasn’t well off, and I knew she hated working at Savings Mart, but we planned to start introducing our relationship to you guys slowly. I wanted to take you and the girls out to dinner a few times, stuff like that. But then when Rose said something about the drug raid on the trailer next door keeping her up at night, it didn’t sit right with me. I had to see for myself what kind of living situation you had and it just . . .”


  He shakes his head, a frown forming on his lips. “It just killed me. I didn’t know things were that bad, and now that I did know, well I had to get you out of that situation. Kids are precious and they should never have to live like that.”

  “That’s really kind of you,” I say. I’ve been told similar things from the men in Mom’s past, but they’ve never felt this sincere.

  “I love your mom, Maddie. I really do. And I wish we had moved slower so you could really get to know me before moving in, but still hope things work out well. I want us to be a family, and I want you to know you can come to me with anything, okay?”

  Maybe it’s just the caffeine and sugar rush, but I can’t help but smile. “Thank you.”

  “So,” he says, his demeanor getting more upbeat. “Do you know what type of car you want?”

  I lift my shoulders. “I have no idea. A car, I guess. Not an SUV or anything.”

  He chuckles. “We can test drive them all if you want. I’d suggest something with sunroof because those are fun. And a good sound system, too.”

  I nod along, looking out the window at all the cars we drive by. I have never in my life been in a position to care about cars, much less daydream about getting a new one. Where would I even begin?

  “What kind of car is that?” I ask as a gorgeous midnight blue sporty car zooms past us. It’s low to the ground and looks sleek and kickass. There’s a Chevy symbol on the back of it, but it goes by too quickly to see anything else.

  “A Camaro,” Landon says, nodding. “Excellent car. That was my first car ever, actually.”

  “Hmm,” I say, watching it disappear ahead of us. “A Camaro. Can we look at those first?”

  “Hell yeah,” he says. “I might have to get a second one for myself.”

  Two hours later, I’m sliding into the front seat of my shiny new Chevy Camaro. It’s silver, with black leather seats and a sunroof.

  And it’s all mine.

  Landon even had them put the car’s title in my name. I slide my hands over the steering wheel and breathe in deeply, reveling in the wonderful new car smell.