She smirked at him.
“I’m serious. That’s not attempted guilt.” He shooed her at the door. “Go on.”
Kieran laughed and walked toward her. The look Dad gave the back of the boy’s head was scary as well as reassuring. She had no doubt he would come looking for her, likely with a gun, if she was late.
She jogged around the front of the shining car and pulled the door open, making startled noises at the unexpected weight.
“You okay?”
“It’s heavy.” She dropped into a black leather seat and pulled the door closed with a loud whump.
“Heh. It’s a ‘78. They made stuff out of metal back then.”
Riley rolled her eyes. “That sounds like something my dad would say.”
Kieran grinned. “My dad said it.”
The engine roared to life, far louder when experienced from inside. She held on to the seats, expecting a wild ride, but he drove down the dirt road at a conservative thirty miles per hour. However, once they hit NM 51, he opened it up a bit.
“How fast are you going?”
“A little under ninety.”
She closed her eyes and swallowed. “I’m going to be sick.”
Her weight shifted forward as he slowed. “Sorry. Straight roads, sports car… it happens.”
Being a passenger in a car driven by someone more or less her age was scarier than trying to drive without a permit. Even if she wasn’t legal, being in control felt reassuring. After a mercifully brief trip, he pulled around behind Tommy’s, slipped between a battered Taurus wagon and a pair of Neons, and parked in a one-car garage.
“Your parents let you have the garage?”
“It was actually my dad’s idea. Says this car looks too nice to sit out in the weather.”
A door in the far end opened to a short staircase that pulled a ninety-degree right turn after three steps, and a left after another four, leading to the second-story apartment above the restaurant. The fragrance of cooking permeated the little hallway, even with a closed door in the way. Walking inside made the scent many times stronger and more appealing. The place felt dark and cramped compared to Dad’s house, composed of narrow hallways and small rooms decorated in earthy colors.
Patches of cloth with intricate patterned weaves and a stylized bird symbol hung here and there, along with quite a number of wolf figurines and artwork. His mom likes wolves… mine liked faeries. Am I going to collect little statues too when I’m old?
Two middle-aged women bustled around the kitchen. Riley watched them, intrigued by the smells of spices she couldn’t place. Perhaps if ever she got comfortable around these people, she’d ask if they’d teach her some new recipes. If the food they served in the restaurant was any indication, they knew what they were doing.
She draped her still-unworn coat over the back of one of the chairs and sat at the dining room table. Kieran’s table isn’t covered with gun cleaning stuff. His father got up from a collapsing brown recliner in front of a TV showing a football game and wobbled over, favoring his left leg.
“So this is the girl I’ve heard so much about?” He landed in the seat at the end with a heavy thud. “Nice to meet you.”
“Hi.” She shot Kieran a ‘what did you tell them’ glare.
The women walked in with pots, which they placed in the center. Rice and beans, pasteles, and a bowl of small sausages. One of the women sat opposite her, the other at the end facing Kieran’s dad.
“Everyone, this is Riley McCullough. Riley, that’s my Dad, my mom, and my Aunt Dakota.”
“Hello.”
“Welcome to Las Cerezas, Riley,” said the woman she assumed to be the aunt. “So sorry to hear about your mother.”
Oh, kill me now. “Thanks.”
“Oh, ‘Kota, I’m sure she doesn’t want to dwell on that,” said Kieran’s mother. She had the same high cheekbones as her son, and wise eyes. Something about her presence made Riley feel at ease. “The spirits work in strange ways. As awful as the reason, I think she was meant to be here.”
She made no move to touch any food until Kieran’s dad handed her the bowl with the beans and rice. Soon, everyone had a full plate and started in on their meal.
“So, you’ll be in the ninth grade this September?” asked Kieran’s dad.
“Mm hmm.” Riley swallowed. “I guess the school’s in T or C?”
“Yeah,” said Kieran. “Hot Springs High.”
“The town used to be called Hot Springs,” said Aunt Dakota. “They changed the name over some silly game show years ago.”
His mother offered a slight bow. “Well, I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”
Riley felt conspicuously white in her present company, and dreaded saying something they’d take the wrong way. “Uh, yeah. This food is amazing.”
The women fussed, trying to push credit on the other person.
His mother wagged a spoon at her. “You must not be used to real food wherever you’re from.”
“Jersey,” mumbled Riley.
“I hear the pizza is good there,” said his father.
“My mother liked to cook, but she made stuff like salmon and capers, and things with French names.”
A brief discussion between Riley and the women about cooking crossed paths with Kieran and his father going back and forth about the football game unfolding on the screen in the living room. Riley lost herself in a moment of feeling ‘normal’ for a while, the sense of being an outsider watching someone else’s family faded.
She got up to help collect plates, but Kieran’s mother waved her off. “Nonsense, child. You’re a guest.”
“Wanna play a video game or something?” asked Kieran. “My room’s upstairs. PC’s a bit different than Xbox though.”
I wonder if Amber is online. As rude as it felt to want to talk to her friend while at Kieran’s house, she had to at least say hello. Riley grabbed her coat and followed Kieran through a narrow hallway. In order to get to his bedroom, they had to climb a fold-down ladder to a converted attic with a claustrophobic angled ceiling. Planets made of Styrofoam balls orbited in a mobile at the center, space-themed posters hung on the walls, though they looked more NASA and less Star Wars. A black-framed bed held a dark blue mattress against the far corner, with enough space between the foot end and the wall for a computer desk and a chair. Stacks of CD and DVD cases burdened the cheap particleboard furniture into a perpetual rightward lean.
“Wow, guess you were serious about the engineering stuff.” She spun around, staring at the decoration. “You wanna like be an astronaut or something?”
“No, I’d rather work on the ground designing and building the spaceships.” Kieran walked past her to the computer desk. “That would be a dream. Mom wants me to be a park ranger or something… stand between civilization and nature.”
“I dunno. That could be cool too.” She threw her jacket on his bed and sat next to it. Her eyes shot to three shiny plastic squares that spilled out of the pocket.
Condom packets.
Kieran had his back to her at the moment, reaching for the power button on the computer. Riley let out a scream and jumped across her coat, hiding the mortifying objects with her chest.
“What?” Kieran whirled around. “Are you okay?”
Red-faced and on the verge of crying, she waved her arm at a bookshelf past the ladder, nestled in the vee of the roof. “M-mouse.”
Kieran laughed. “You don’t look like the type of girl to scream over mice.”
She gathered the sheets to her chest, begging fate not to let him see what Dad did to her.
“Okay, okay…” He tromped over. “There’s no mice in this place. I bet you saw a shadow.”
As soon as he went by, she gathered the packets and stuffed them in the inside pocket, which had a zipper. She rolled to sit up, clutching the bundle of raspberry cloth in her lap. No doubt, her face was almost the same color.
I am going to kill him. Oh, My God! Dad!
Kieran studied the area around th
e shelf for a moment, moving some boxes out of the way. “Nope. No mice.” He approached, looking confused. “You okay? You look nervous as hell. If you’re not comfortable being here… I’m… I―”
“I trust you.” She couldn’t look at him. “It’s not… I mean, I’ve never been in a boy’s room before, but I’m not like, afraid of you or anything.”
He crossed by and sat in the computer chair. “I’m glad to hear that, but you look like you’re ready to scream and run if I twitch wrong.”
She shoved the jacket to her side―away from him―and took a few deep breaths. That explained the serious ‘are you sure this is what you want’ Dad gave her. “Uh, it’s not you.”
Kieran tossed a wireless controller on the bed. “Wanna do something co-op or versus mode?” He pointed at a stack of game boxes.
“Thought you were a ‘mouse guy.’” Riley tried to relax and not think about what would’ve happened if he’d been looking when she dropped her coat.
“For shooters, yeah. Everything else, controller all the way.”
“Can we pop into Call of Duty? I wanna say hi to a friend.” She flicked a fingernail at the controller.
“Your friend using an Xbox?” He raised an eyebrow. “No cross platform. Different sandbox.”
“Oh.” Riley frowned at the rug for a moment before looking up. “What’s that one?” She pointed at a DVD case. On the cover, a sad-faced teen girl stood behind a man with a rifle in the midst of a destroyed city.
He tilted his head, as if appraising her level of skittishness. She couldn’t help but mirror his little grin.
“It’s a post-apocalypse game with zombies… The Last Outpost. We can multiplayer the story mode if you want. It’s intense, but I don’t think you’re in the mood for jump-out-of-your-seat scary. How ‘bout a fighting game?”
“Oh. Whatever you want.” She scooted to the foot of the bed with the controller in hand. “I’ll go easy on you.”
iley got out of the Trans Am at two minutes to ten, and rushed through a thigh-deep dust cloud peeling away from the tires. Kieran’s eighty mile an hour trip down NM 51 rattled her less than the trip into town that afternoon. He trotted after her to the small porch. She whirled, handled about two point one seconds of eye contact, and found herself staring at his stomach as he walked over. Rigid, nervous, and probably blushing like hell.
“Hey,” said Kieran. “Don’t I get a goodbye?”
Kiss?
“Uh, sorry. I’m”―pissed off at my dad―“trying to get inside before I’m late.” She froze, both excited and petrified at the thought of him trying to touch her. “Thanks for dinner… hanging out was kinda fun.”
He exhaled through a grin. “Yeah. Next time I won’t be so easy on you.”
A thud inside the door made her turn scarlet. No Dad! He’s talking about the game. “You weren’t going easy. You were getting your ass kicked. I saw you getting a little pissed off. Wasn’t like at pool where you were trying to let me win.” Riley grinned.
Kieran scratched his head. “Yeah, so… Maybe we could co-op The Last Outpost next time? I’d rather be with you than against you.”
Riley’s brain took ‘against you’ the same way Dad’s probably did. Red lights and sirens went off in her head as awkwardness reached alarm levels. He seemed to feel the tension coursing through her rigid body and took a step back.
“You should go in. It’s getting late. See you Thursday?”
“Yeah.” She bit her lip and kept standing there.
He winked, whispering, “He’s watching us.”
Riley looked down at her sneakers. “Yeah.”
“See you soon?”
“Okay.” She ducked inside before she had to look at him again.
Dad was on the couch. He never sat on the couch, not once since she’d been there. Always, he’d been at his desk. Riley nudged the door closed behind her back. The sound of Kieran’s car starting made her twitch. Still, the AM radio and some woman on CNN debated in his bedroom.
“Oh, there you are.” Dad smiled over his shoulder at her, as casual as if he’d not noticed them outside.
Riley waited for the sound of Kieran driving away to grow silent, and stomped over.
“How was your date?”
She stuffed her hand in her jacket, rummaged, and threw the condoms at him. “I’m not a whore!”
He looked down at them, showing little reaction. “I just wanted you to be prepared.”
“Dad! How could you?” She balled her hands into fists. “You might as well have called me a megaslut in front of him.”
“I don’t understand why you’re so upset. It’s just a precaution.”
“We’re not fucking!” she screamed. For a moment she stood, breathing hard and trying not to hit him. “I haven’t even kissed a boy yet, Dad. I’m not a tramp. You think I’m easy? What the hell is wrong with you? It’s like you’re missing that filter that normal people have between their brain and doing stupid, embarrassing shit to the people they supposedly love.”
“Riley.” He reached, but she ducked away from his hand. “You’re that age. He’s that age… things can happen. I’m not saying that’s what you want, but in the heat of the moment…”
“I don’t believe you!” She backed up. “You don’t even know what it feels like!” She burst into tears and ran to her room, slamming the door before diving face-first into her pillow.
Flannel pajama pants tickled the tops of her feet as Riley shifted her weight from side to side by the kitchen counter the next morning. She used the last of the eggs, stretching them enough for two omelets by stirring in some potatoes and cheese. While she whisked the mess in hopes of creating something suitable to cook, Dad emerged from his room and went to set up the coffee maker.
“Still mad at me?”
“Yep.” She didn’t look up from the eggs.
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”
“That’s why I’m mad at you.” She tightened her grip on the bowl so it didn’t go flying.
“I did not mean to imply you were specifically going there to have sex with the boy, but I know how boys that age are. You’re at a vulnerable stage where you’re half little girl and half grown up, and you’ve also been through hell.”
Her whisking slowed.
“I’m not saying he is the type of boy to do so, but someone that knew your situation could exploit it and take advantage of you.”
She stopped beating the eggs. “They fell out onto his bed. He almost saw them. Do you have any idea how it would look if he found out I went to his house with a pocketful of condoms?” Riley pushed the eggs aside to keep tears from falling into them. “I’d never be able to show my face in this state.”
He flicked the switch on the coffee maker, which set to burbling. “That does make sense.”
“I promise I won’t do anything with him. Mom already gave me the talk. If I get pregnant, there goes school and any hope for a decent job. Besides, it’s not like boys even notice me anyway.”
He put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
She squirmed around and hugged him. “I’m still mad at you, but okay.”
“I trust you, Riley.” He let go and took a seat at the table.
Let’s see how he likes awkward. “Thanks. I’ll bring him here when we decide to have sex the first time. I’ll feel safer with you in the next room.”
“There you go, sounding practical like your mother again.” He slurped coffee.
A twinge of nausea ripped through her belly. Unreal.
“However, I doubt you are being serious. You’ll probably find a nice, secluded spot. The first time your mother and I―”
“Dad.” She slammed a pan down on the stove. “TMI.”
“… University had this tree …”
“Lalalalalalalala.” Riley stuck her fingers in her ears. “Not listening to parents-having-sex stories.”
She refused to look at him on her way to the stove with the bowl of egg-p
otato-cheese slop.
Riley crossed her ankles, heels on the coffee table and butt on the couch. She stared at the flaking polish on her toenails, now convinced it would chip or fall off before the nails grew out. Old nail polish seemed all of a sudden like a crummy thing to use as a shrine to remember Mom. Even if she had applied it before Mom passed away, she could come up with something better as a memorial. She heaved a sigh, and stared at the book in her lap. Whatever the Air Force was doing took an enormous crap on the satellite signal. Every channel she tried came in as blurry lines of rainbow distortion mixed with white bands. Dad rushed back to the military radio to poke Colonel Bering about it as soon as she’d asked.
“What’s that?” asked Dad, passing behind her.
“The Good Earth,” muttered Riley.
“Oh. Yeah, I had to read that in high school too.” He stopped. “You know I haven’t made contact with the school in town yet…”
“Yeah, it’s from the one I would’ve gone to in Jersey. I’m only reading it because Mom would’ve wanted me to.”
“You must be bored.” He chuckled. “TV still down?”
“Yeah.”
She stared at black smudges on the paper, barely aware they were even words, much less grasping what they meant. Dad drifted off to his room and got to typing on the computer. Late morning rolled into afternoon. Riley made it about fourteen pages in before she headed to the kitchen to assemble sandwiches for lunch. She plated one and brought it in to him. He worked the keyboard so fast, he had to be smashing gibberish rather than forming coherent lines of program code.
“Hungry?” She offered him a ham and cheese on wheat.
His eyes lit up like she’d brought filet and lobster tail. “Best daughter in the world.”
My life is over. At least Dad has a kitchen slave. She looked down. “When is the internet coming?”
Dad held up a finger while chewing for a moment. “Should be next Wednesday.”
“Why’s it taking so long? There can’t be that many people out here trying to get to the web.”
He shrugged. “Probably just to be annoying. Maybe they had to order the antenna custom.”
The Summer the World Ended Page 17
