“Son of a bitch!” I curse, hopping on my good foot while I clutch the bad. “Watch where you’re going!”
“It was an axi-dent,” Brian whimpers. His lower lip trembling he backs away from me and abruptly bursts into tears.
I pick up his bag and throw it across the room. It bounces against the side of the bed and falls to the carpet. Swearing again, I hobble into the bathroom and slam the door behind me. Brian begins to wail in earnest, so I take the hair dryer from its wall holder and turn it on full blast. The noise muffles his cries, allowing me to inspect my ankle in relative peace.
I kick out of my sneakers and prop my foot up on the edge of the toilet. The skin around my ankle has already started to swell. I can roll it in a circle, which means nothing is broken, but it still hurts like hell.
The long mirror above the sink catches my reflection. I look myself straight in the eye, refusing to flinch from the stranger who glares silently back at me.
This stranger has long black hair twisted into thick ropey dreadlocks. Her skin is pale, the hollows under her eyes tinged with purple. Her silver piercings flash white gold under the fluorescent lights and her tongue pokes out to lick at the hoop in her lip. Miniature blue stars peek out along the curve of her hairline and disappear behind her right ear. They are not her only tattoo, simply the most visible. This stranger is too skinny, too gangly, too dark, too everything. This stranger does not smile or laugh. She is sarcastic and rude, this stranger, and if I knew her I wouldn’t be friends with her. I wouldn’t even give her a second glance.
“You look like shit,” the stranger says. Our lips move together to form the same words.
“I know,” I say.
“And you’re treating your brother like crap.”
“I know.”
“Don’t be such a jerk. He lost his mom too.”
“He doesn’t remember her.”
“His hands say otherwise.”
I tip my head towards the blue eyed stranger and whisper, “Touché.”
Brian is curled up asleep on the twin bed closest to the window when I finally emerge from the bathroom. I have wrapped myself in a fluffy white towel and my skin is still pink and damp from the hot shower I took. I set my bag on top of the wooden bureau next to the television and begin to unpack. A quick glance at the alarm clock on top of the nightstand reveals it is 5:17PM. My dad and Girlfriend #3 are probably getting ready to go down to dinner. The resort has its own restaurant built in and an all you can eat seafood buffet on Sunday nights. Even though I love lobster, I decide to order room service. Brian is just about the only person I can handle tonight.
When someone knocks on the door twenty minutes later I mute the TV and hobble across the room as fast as I can go, eager to devour my extra cheese and meatball sub. Brian is still sleeping, but I know he’ll like his spaghetti and sauce when he wakes up. Maybe he’ll even forgive me for swearing at him.
I open the door. In the blink of an eye, my eagerness is replaced by sullenness. “What do you want?” I ask.
Girlfriend #3 stands in the hallway. She has exchanged her mini skirt for a pair of shiny black tights and a red silk shirt (something that short does not classify as a dress) that barely skims her thighs. A gold belt loops around her model thin waist and her blond hair falls down her shoulders in such perfectly tousled waves I begin to wonder if she wears a wig.
“Your father wants you and your brother to join us for dinner,” she says. There is no sweet endearing smile on her face now. Without my dad as a witness Girlfriend #3 is one nasty lady.
“No thanks.” I go to shut the door. She surprises me by wedging one high heeled boot against the doorframe. I never would have thought she would risk scratching genuine leather.
“Maybe you didn’t hear me,” she says. “Either come to dinner with us or don’t eat at all.”
I blink. One thing is for sure. Girlfriend #3 would make an excellent evil stepmother. “Seriously? I ordered room service like half an hour ago.”
Her red lips twist into an unflattering sneer. “I can’t wait to ship you and that brat off to boarding school.”
Since I called that one a month or so back, I have to feign my surprise. “Boarding school? Oh please no! I’ll do anything, I promise. Anything!” I’m probably over doing it, but Girlfriend #3 looks smug, not annoyed, which means she’s buying my theatrics hook, line, and sinker. What a moh-ron.
“That’s what I thought. Now go get dressed and meet us downstairs in ten minutes. And do something with your hair.” Her green eyes, courtesy of colored contacts, narrow to slits. “It looks like something crawled on top of your head and died.”
“I will go do that right now,” I say, all sorts of agreeable. Anything to get her out of my face.
She turns to go. Pauses. “You could be pretty you know,” she says generously. “If you didn’t wear all that awful makeup and took out those piercings you would look almost normal.”
“You really think so?”
“Sure,” she says. “I have some old clothes at home I was going to donate to Good Will. You can have them if you want.”
“That would be amazing.”
“I’m not as awful as you think I am, Winnifred. Your father and I love each other. It’s time you came to accept that before you drive him away.”
I want to punch her nose right off her face. Instead I bite my lower lip and try my best to look forlorn. “I will try really hard. It’s just… you know… tough to see him with someone else he really cares about. Since my mom passed away and everything.”
Fake sympathy all but oozes out of her perfect pores as she says, “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”
A laugh bubbles up, threatening to ruin everything. I choke it back down, determined to play my part of woebegone teenager to the hilt. “It’s just… it’s just so hard. You know this is where my parents came on their honeymoon, don’t you? And every year after that. They started getting me my own room when I turned ten so they could… you know.” My eyebrows wiggle up and down. “They used to be so loud I could hear them from across the hall and once they didn’t come out of their room for two days. Cool, huh?”
“You’re disgusting,” Girlfriend #3 snaps.
“See you at dinner,” I smile.
“I will tell Thomas you’re sick.”
Our eyes clash, hold, slide apart. She steps back and I quietly shut the door. I’ve won this round, but there will be others. Girlfriend #3 isn’t like the rest. For all her stupidity she’s smart too, and determined. She thinks my dad is her meal ticket to a better life. Can’t she see how miserable the three of us are? You can’t buy your way out of misery, even though my dad is giving it his shot.
Room service arrives five minutes later. I wake up Brian and we eat our food in bed watching Jeopardy. I run him a bath and use the blow dryer to dry his hair straight up, which makes him giggle. After, when he is in his yellow duck pajamas and tucked into bed, I rub Vaseline all over his dry, chapped hands. I try not to look at the reddened flesh, but I can still feel it under my fingers. Bit by bit my brother is turning into an alligator.
“You have to stop sucking on your fingers,” I say firmly.
His chin quivers. “I try really hard Winnie. I just can’t.”
“You need to try harder. You’re only five, so the kids in preschool are going to cut you a break. But pretty soon they’re going to start singling out the dorks and the geeks and weird kids.” I nudge his knee with my knee and he looks up. “You don’t want to be one of the weird kids, Bri. A dork or a geek is okay. But not a weird kid. You understand?”
“But you’re a weird kid.”
“Yeah and look how well I turned out.”
Those three familiar lines appear on his forehead as he mulls it over. Finally he nods and says, “I’ll try not to be like you.”
“Thatta boy. Listen, I forgot my walkman in the car and I have to go get it. You’re going to stay here and not open the door for anyone, even if
they sound like Dad. Got it?”
“What about Trish?” he asks.
“Who is – oh yeah. Nope, not for her either. Especially not for her. I have a key so I’ll be able to let myself back in. It will only take a few minutes. See if you can get final Jeopardy right.” I can tell Brian doesn’t like the idea of being left on his own, but he doesn’t argue with me.
I open the bureau that I stuffed all my clothes into and pull out a ratty black sweatshirt. Like a lot of my clothes, it is three sizes too big and falls nearly to my knees. I pull the hood up and take the room card and two dollars out of my wallet. There is a vending machine at the end of the hallway and I have been craving a candy bar.
“I’ll be right back,” I promise Brian. “You won’t even know I’m gone.”
He smiles at me, all innocent and sweet and loving. To him I am the whole world. It should make me feel wonderful, but all I really feel is smothered.
CHAPTER TWO
Snow has covered everything in a fine white powder by the time I step outside. I glance behind me to see what type of footprints my sneakers have left, but the sneakers are so old the tread has been worn to the quick. I stomp extra hard to make my mark.
The front of the parking lot is lit up from towering light posts, making it easy to spot the rented silver Volvo amidst the other cars. My footsteps are muffled as I walk briskly towards it. It is the newest version. A keyless entry. I type the number code I saw my dad use at the start of our trip into the tiny panel just under the driver’s side handle. The parking lights flash and the handle releases towards me. I pop the locks and open the back door.
The inside of the car is cold, colder than it is outside, and I rummage through the animal crackers and slobbery pillows and puzzle games as quick as I can. When I find my walkman stuffed between the seat cushions I cram it, earphones and all, into the front pocket of sweatshirt. Just as I hit the button to relock the car the light posts go out, and the parking lot goes dark.
“Shit,” I curse, whirling around. Suddenly the front of the lodge seems a lot further away then it did twenty seconds ago. I feel my way around the front of the Volvo and stumble up over the curb, jarring my swollen ankle. The walkman slips out of my pocket and hits the ground with a clatter before skidding out of sight underneath the car.
“Shit!” I say again. The last thing I want to do is go crawling around in the snow, but I don’t have much of a choice. I can’t sleep without my music and I can’t listen to my music without my walkman.
“This is so going to suck,” I mutter as I drop to my hands and knees and peer under the car. It’s dark – obviously – but I think I can see the walkman resting right between the two front tires. Flattening out on my stomach I shimmy forward army style. When I’m halfway there I stretch out my arm as far as it will go, reaching blindly for the walkman.
“Looking for this?” a voice asks from behind me.
“SHIT!” I scream as my entire body jumps in reaction to being scared half to death. My head slams into the underbelly of the car and I hunch low, trying to get my breathing under control as my heart threatens to beat right out of my chest.
“Is that the only swear word you know?” the stranger – I’m pretty sure it is a boy – asks curiously.
I need to get out from under the car. I consider backing up, which would have worked fine if I was alone, but there is no way I’m going to wiggle out ass first in front of someone I don’t know. Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t care what people think about me, but in the dark and the snow and the wet even I have my limits. “Don’t move,” I manage to grunt. “I’m coming out.”
“Looking forward to it,” says the boy.
I half crawl/half belly slide the rest of the way under the car. Snow shoots down the inside of my sweatshirt and I have to bite my cheek to keep from squealing like a little girl. When I finally emerge from the other side of the car I brush myself off the best I can and march around to confront the guy with the seriously bad timing. But when I get a clear view of him, all I can think to say is, “Where did you come from?”
By the looks of the boy he isn’t that much older than me. Sixteen, seventeen at the most. His hair, neither blond nor brown but a mixture of the two, is cut short and neat. Black horn rimmed glasses sit high on the bridge of his nose. Studious gray eyes watch me through the clear lenses. He is tall, taller than me, broad at the shoulder and narrow at the hip. He would have almost been cute, if not for…
“Are you wearing a sweat vest?” I ask incredulously.
“And penny loafers. The horror, right?” he says with a grin.
“Aren’t you cold?”
“Aren’t you?” he asks, looking pointedly at my soaked sweatshirt.
Since the sweatshirt is beginning to freeze into a great big ice block of cotton, I have to nod. “A bit. So do you have my walkman or not?”
Wordlessly he holds the walkman out to me. I close the distance between us in two quick steps and take it out of his hand. The headphones are a bit bent, but otherwise it looks to be in good shape. I breathe a sigh of relief. To endure an entire week without my music would have been unbearable.
“That must have been pretty expensive,” says the boy, nodding towards the walkman.
“This?” I ask, holding it up. “No, not really. I got it on Ebay for like twenty bucks. The hardest part is finding tapes to go in it. A lot of the time I have to get them special ordered.”
“Ah.”
“So what were you doing out here? Are you some kind of creeper or something?” I ask bluntly.
The hint of a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Are you?” he counters.
“I was looking for my walkman.”
He shrugs. “Maybe I was looking for something too.”
Kind of cute, but definitely strange. “Well…” I glance past him to the front of the lodge. From here I can all but smell the pine and feel the warmth of the fire. I want to excuse myself, but I’m not sure how. A year ago I would have tossed my long blond hair and giggled my way inside but the new Winnie doesn’t remember how to do that anymore. “Uh, thanks for your help and everything,” I say lamely.
“You are welcome,” he says.
“Okay well, uh, goodnight.” I start towards the lobby, making sure to take an extra big step over the curb.
I don’t realize the boy is following me until I feel a faint pressure on my shoulder. My toes are frozen inside my sneakers and I can’t feel the end of my nose, but something compels me to stop and face him just shy of the front entrance. Here the lights have not been dimmed and I am able to see him more clearly. He looks… sincere, I decide. Earnest. Two emotions I am not used to associating with boys my age. It’s enough to peak my interest. “Do you need something?” I ask.
“Not really,” he says. “Are you staying here?”
“No, I’m just wandering around the parking lot of the resort I’m not staying in.”
“You’re kind of rude,” the boy observes.
“Sorry.” The apology catches me by surprise. ‘Sorry’ is not a word I use very often. “It’s been a long day and yes, I am staying here. With my dad and my brother.” There really isn’t any need to mention Girlfriend #3, so I don’t.
“That’s nice. I’m Sam, by the way. Sam Trent.”
“Winnifred.” I extend my hand automatically. It is an unusual habit for someone my age and usually I’m met with strange stares, but Sam just places his right hand in mine as if it is the most natural thing in the world and we shake briskly.
“Nice to meet you,” he says.
“I guess you’re staying here too?”
He shakes his head. “No, not really. Well I guess you could say I am. Kind of. Just for a little bit though.”
Okay then. “Well, it was nice to meet you Sam. Maybe I’ll see you around.” The doors to the lobby slide apart with a quiet whoosh when I get within two feet of them. Warm air blows in my face, defrosting my nose and bringing feeling back to my toes. I take
a few steps inside. Hesitate. Turn halfway around. “Aren’t you coming in?” I ask Sam curiously.
He is still standing outside. His thumbs are hooked casually in the waistband of his trousers and he has a vacant expression on his face. When I speak he startles slightly, as if he forgot I was there, and a slow smile curves his lips. “In a little bit. I’m waiting for someone,” he says.
“Wouldn’t it be better to wait inside where it isn’t negative ten?”
“I’m fine out here, but thank you for asking.”
For some reason I feel oddly insulted that he won’t come into the lobby with me. “Whatever. Have fun out in the cold weirdo.”
If Sam is put off by my insult, it doesn’t show. “It was nice to meet you Winnifred.”
“Whatever,” I repeat. Spinning on my heel, I stalk away from sweater vest Sam.
Brian is sound asleep with the covers pulled halfway up over his head by the time I get back to our room. I pull off my wet clothes and slip into a long t-shirt with a pink bunny on the front. The batteries in my walkman need to be changed and I switch them out with new ones before I hit all the lights and climb in bed.
The sheets smell of pine, just like everything else around here, but I don’t mind. Better pine than the smell of the parking lot. I switch the Adele tape to the other side and snuggle down into covers as she begins to belt out her latest hit. My eyes are just about to drift close when something on the nightstand catches my attention.
I sit bolt upright, clutching my walkman to my chest to prevent it from suffering another fall, and stare hard at the red digital numbers on the alarm clock.
11:47PM.
That can’t be right. I left just before final Jeopardy. I couldn’t have been outside for almost four hours. Maybe forty five minutes at the most. Annoyed, I realize the clock must be off. The hotel really should know better. What if I had to get up at six in the morning and set the alarm without checking the time first? I consider trying to reset it myself, but I’ve never been good with technology which explains my lack of a cell phone and the old fashioned walkman.
The Mysterious Death and Life of Winnie Coleman Page 2
