The Weird Travels of Aimee Schmidt: The Curse of the Gifted

by J. A. Schreckenbach

  Instead of donning running gear, Aimee decided to forego the exercise for one morning and spend the extra time catching up on frivolous things. She hadn’t checked email in weeks or the online gossip, and of course, she could start preparing for her big date tonight with Dylan. Whatever she could do now would save Chelsea some frustration later.

  Aimee strolled out of her room to the bathroom. Her mood was giddy, almost euphoric, and her soft humming piqued her dad’s interest when she passed his bedroom. He stepped out into the hall and cleared his throat. “Feeling better?” he asked.

  “I think so.”

  “Any particular reason you’re in such a good mood?” He wasn’t fooling Aimee. She knew he remembered her date with Dylan. Anything that made Aimee happy made her dad ecstatic. She didn’t want to burst his bubble, or hers for that matter, so she decided to play down their date just in case this was their first and last time to go out. Besides, this was only supposed to be a “thank you” from Dylan. No deeper intent, that she could tell, had been insinuated.

  “Dad, it’s Friday. That’s why I’m excited.”

  He chuckled as he headed towards the kitchen. “Do you want breakfast?” he hollered over his shoulder.

  She cracked open the bathroom door and shouted, “Thanks, but I’ll get something later before I go to school.”

  The sound of Dad banging pans in the kitchen and the steep aroma of coffee percolating filled the house. Aimee dropped the lid of the toilet and covered it with a towel. From under the sink she dug out a small assortment of makeup and nail polishes, then laid them on the counter. “Humph,” she grumbled as she surveyed the scant contents; Cotton Candy Pink or Barely There Beige, the sole choices. “Barely There,” she muttered. Her limited sense of fashion told Aimee she should stick to something basic since she wasn’t sure what she would be wearing. Chelsea had her outfit already picked out, she was positive. Besides, she seriously doubted Dylan would see her toenails, but it made her feel good to be pampering herself for once.

  Aimee finished her pedicure, then completed the rest of her bathroom routine. She stepped out into the hallway hoping Dad wouldn’t be there to comment on her sleek colored nails. He was too observant sometimes. Luckily, he was nowhere in sight so she hurried into her room. After mindlessly selecting her attire for the day, Aimee stepped back and surveyed her collection of misfit garments hanging in the closet. Hopeless was the word that came to mind. Chelsea would need to work a miracle. She glanced at the clock. Seven fifty-five. She had spent way too much time in the bathroom leaving no time for breakfast so she yanked on her boots and grabbed her backpack. A few extra minutes for the commute would be helpful this morning.

  Before leaving Aimee flew into the kitchen to get a bottle of water and an apple for her ride to school. She spotted the paper Dad left on the counter. The bolded headline immediately caught her attention…Campus Bookstore Robbery Thwarted in Eugene. She quickly scanned the article searching for information about the young woman’s status. The paper reported the woman was at the Mercy Medical Center and her condition was stable. She sustained a concussion from the blow to the head. An investigation was underway to find the armed robber. He had evaded the police on foot and was last seen south of campus. The woman had been able to offer little help at this point since she suffered trauma to the head. Anyone with any information should contact the Eugene Police…

  A chill raced across her spine, then goosebumps popped up on her arms. It felt almost impossible she had been there less than twenty-four hours earlier. Even though it seemed too strange to be real, she could replay everything in her mind with exact clarity. It frightened Aimee to think what could have happened when she startled the gunman. It scared her even more to think what could have happened if she hadn’t been there to startle the gunman. Just then her dad opened the backdoor and she dropped the paper. She had more than enough to occupy her thoughts today. Hopefully, they would catch this creep before he hurt someone else.

  “Dad, I’m leaving,” Aimee yelled back while her dad stood on the small mat scraping the snow off his boots.

  “Hey, Aimee, uh, will you get the things from the store on your way home?”

  “Sure, Dad. Sorry about yesterday.”

  “No problem. I’m just glad you’re feeling better. Have a good day, sweetheart.”

  Aimee smiled, then dashed to the front door. The icy wind swirled into the hallway when she swung the door open. “Yuk, mushy yuk,” she moaned.

  Even though she painstakingly inched the Bug along her usual route, Aimee still managed to arrive early to school. She decided to wait in the gym and study her world history notes for Monday’s test. She hadn’t missed anything yesterday after being sent home, and she felt positive today would drag. No tests. No projects. Nothing to pass the time quickly. It would be long and monotonous. Her mind would be preoccupied with another more pressing event; her date tonight with Dylan. Aimee's heart raced every time she thought about this evening. Dylan was perfect…too perfect for her!

  Chelsea was talking with Courtney Evans outside the door when Aimee arrived to first period. Both girls stopped to greet her. Courtney had to hurry to gym so Chelsea changed the conversation to make Aimee the focus. Aimee expected as much. “Feeling better?” Chels asked while they walked down the aisles to their desks.

  “Yep, much better. Thanks again, Chels, for getting me home.”

  “Sure, don’t mention it.” Chels looked back at Dylan sitting in his desk with his buddies huddled around dissecting something in a magazine on his desktop. She turned back to Aimee with a devilish smile. “Excited about tonight?”

  Aimee had to admit she was more than excited, but she didn’t want anyone else to overhear her confession. “Yes, Chelsea, I’m so nervous though. I really need your expertise so I’ll see you at six. Okay?”

  Chelsea bit her bottom lip, then smiled. “I’ll be there rain, sleet or blinding snow.” She giggled to herself as they both slid into their seats.

  Dr. Morris lectured the entire fifty minutes. Most of the class slept or texted on their phones while she paced back and forth in the front, occasionally jotting notes on the board, but never stopping to look at them for more than a few seconds at a time.

  Aimee felt her phone vibrate lightly in her pocket. She looked up to see where Dr. Morris was before she pulled it out careful not to draw any unnecessary attention. The screen indicated she had a text message. She checked Dr. Morris’s position, then flipped open the phone. It was a message from Dylan. She discreetly turned and peeked over her shoulder. Dylan was watching her. He smiled. Aimee turned back and slid her phone under the desktop. Facing the front, she dropped her eyes to read the message on the screen.

  Hey…wup…morris is killing me…r u alive?…really stoked about tonight…where do u want to eat?

  Aimee's fingers ghostly typed across the keyboard.

  Not dead just comatose…lol…stoked too…burger shack is cool ☺

  A faint chuckle leaked from the back. Dr. Morris abruptly stopped her pacing and for the first time since class began forty-five minutes earlier, she looked over her glasses, surveying each student. Aimee froze. She couldn’t breathe. And twenty-three others sitting around her did the same thing. Finally, after a very long minute Dr. Morris turned back to her pacing, and Aimee inconspicuously slid the phone from her lap back into her pocket. She took a deep breath and looked up at Chelsea. Chels grinned and shook her head.

  The rest of Aimee's day lingered like a prison sentence. She vaguely remembered attending every class, and walking down bright hallways crammed with noisy students, but she didn’t recall anything else until the final bell rang at three thirty. She escaped to the parking lot. The snow had stopped, and only small patches of gray crystallized mush dotted the ground. This was good news. She hated driving in the snow. She jumped in her car and noticed Dad’s grocery list posted to the rearview mirror. There was plenty of time to stop at the store before heading home to start dinner for her dad. Unli
ke Chels, she loathed shopping for clothes, but shopping for food was fun. It would give her a diversion before Chelsea came over. Four hours of thinking about nothing but Dylan would be too mind-boggling.

  It took her less than ten minutes to reach her destination. She pulled into the parking lot and grabbed the list before bouncing into the store. It was too early for the after-work crowd so she decided to take a little time and meander through the clothes department before moving on to food. As much as Aimee hated clothes shopping, it would kill some time.

  She strolled over to the casual wear, and at the end of the sectioned area Aimee noticed a silver toned mannequin. The lifeless body was decked out in a flirty turquoise cashmere sweater.

  “Wow,” she whispered. She stroked her fingers lightly across a sleeve. It felt incredibly soft, luxuriant, and the low V neck gave it a sexy look. The color was perfect with her eyes. She found one in her size hanging on a rack close by and held it up to her body, then modeled it in front of a display mirror.

  The sales assistant strolled by and asked, “Can I help you find something?”

  “Thanks, but I’m fine.”Aimee stepped back and studied the sweater against her frame.

  “It would look gorgeous on you.”

  “Yeah, I really like it…” Aimee pulled up the sleeve. Her fingers probed for the price tag. “…but I don’t really want to spend too much.” She quickly eyed the tag. Sixty-nine, ninety-nine. Her mouth slid into a frown.

  “Here, use this coupon.” The sales assistant handed Aimee a twenty-five percent off coupon on all winter apparel.

  After one more fast glance at the bright blue sweater against her pale skin, Aimee decided she had to buy it. It was perfect for tonight. “Thanks, I think I will.” She had plenty of money in her checking account. She rarely splurged on clothes, but her mood at the moment turned generous. She gently laid the sweater in her shopping basket and moved on.

  Next she wandered over to the jewelry counter and spotted a pair of silver dangles in the display case. A young girl with curly carrot red hair came up to help. Aimee thought she remembered her from school so she forced a smile acknowledging the girl's cheerful greeting. Still feeling charitable with the ample amount in her account, Aimee added the earrings to the basket. That was enough shopping for her outfit. She figured she better leave a few things for Chelsea to pick out so Aimee headed over to the food department.

  The rest of the shopping was completed within fifteen minutes. Aimee still had plenty of time to dawdle when she got home. After arriving, she put the food in the frig, then grabbed a basket of dirty clothes from Dad’s bathroom. Tomorrow would be busy so she wanted to get a head start on the wash. She stuffed the washing machine with dirty jeans, socks, and underwear, then looked at the clock. Four twenty-five. She and Dylan were going out to eat, but Aimee could at least get Dad’s dinner started. That would surely kill another hour, maybe, if she took her time. Even at that, Aimee would still have another thirty minutes to get a shower and wash her hair. Chelsea had given strict orders to only towel dry it, no hair dryer allowed. Her thick, straight hair reached the middle of her back. It would take the entire night for it to dry without blow drying, but she didn’t dare disobey Chels.

  She pulled a couple of chicken breasts from the package in the frig and plopped them in a pan with some olive oil, garlic, and spices. While Aimee browned the meat, Zonker came into the kitchen with his nose switching madly to suck in the delicious aroma. He laid patiently at the threshold watching Aimee prepare the meal, waiting for her to drop a treat. She flipped on the radio to give her some background noise while she chopped vegetables for a tossed salad. After prepping Dad’s salad, Aimee washed and stuck a potato in foil and put it in the oven, then drained the sizzling grease from the meat and stuck it in a small pan next to the potato. She set the timer and flicked off the light before heading to the bathroom.

  When Aimee stepped out of the shower, she heard voices in the kitchen. Her dad was chatting with Chelsea. Aimee could only hear a few words now and then, mixed with a sprinkle of laughter, but she could tell Dad was in a good mood. She stopped for a few seconds to listen. It felt relaxing to hear their laughter. Normal. Something that had been missing in their house since James moved out. She wrapped a towel tightly around her body, and then opened the door. Her dad caught her glance. His face hadn’t changed since this morning. It still had a radiant glow. At the moment it matched Aimee's.

  “Hey, Aimee,” Dad shouted from the kitchen, “I got the McCoy job!”

  “That’s cool, Dad.” Dad’s income was modest, and a new contract early in the year boosted his spirits.

  Chelsea sauntered past the two of them and winked at Aimee. “Mr. S, maybe you can take us to some fancy restaurant to celebrate.”

  “Sure, Chelsea, I’ll treat you two, but then it’s my turn and you two get to pay.”

  “No deal, Mr. S. I know how you like to eat. Come on, Aimee.” Chelsea grabbed Aimee's hand and pulled her along. “Time to get you ready for Prince Charming.” They quickly disappeared into Aimee's room.

  “Chels…,” Aimee began while she pulled out her shopping spree treasures. Before she could finish Chels yanked the sweater from her hands and held it up to inspect Aimee's lavish prize. Chelsea was a good-hearted spirit, and Aimee's best friend, but a bit foppish. Aimee waited impatiently for the personal critique.

  “Aimee, I LOVE it! I can’t believe you actually bought something without my help that is totally cute, and the color…the color will make your gorgeous blue eyes pop. This will look sooo freakin’ awesome on you.” Chelsea held it up to Aimee and nodded in approval. Aimee took it from her and laid it gently on the bed, then pulled the dangles from the bag.

  “Thanks, Chels. Maybe I’m learning something from you after all.”

  She handed Chels the earrings. Chels dangled them next to her lobes and looked in the mirror. “Yep, perfect. Yeah, I think I’m finally rubbing off on you.” She placed the earrings on the desk, then unzipped the duffel bag she had set on the chair. She pulled out a pair of black, skinny jeans.

  “Chelsea, I’m not sure I can squeeze all of me into those,” Aimee said warily. She pulled the pants tightly across her body. She was slender, but not as tiny as Chels who was at least three inches taller and built like a lingerie model.

  “Oh yeah, you will. Trust me.” Chelsea was too busy digging through Aimee's underwear drawer to notice Aimee checking the skimpy pants in the mirror with doubt plastered on her face. “Okay, that sweater needs a tad bit of help. You still have your sexy lingerie we bought on our shopping trip to Portland last summer, don’t you?” Chels finally glanced up and spotted Aimee's grimace at her delving through the underwear.

  “Here, Chels, let me get them.” Aimee pushed Chels gently to the side and reached in and instantly pulled her only set of fancy lingerie from the back of the drawer where it had been hidden since Chels bought it last summer. Chelsea insisted on one of her many forced shopping trips with Aimee that Aimee had to have a some sexy undies with a matching push up bra. Aimee was too cheap to spend that kind of money on something no one would see so Chels pulled out her credit card ignoring Aimee's protest.

  Chels ordered, “Put them on.”

  Immediately Aimee dropped the damp towel from her body and slid on the black, lacy bikini panties. Then she put on the matching bra and stood in front of the full length mirror. Her mouth dropped open. Her plain, pale frame looked shapely. Sexy. Aimee felt heat rushing into her cheeks when she noticed Chels standing behind her watching Aimee admire her new image in the mirror.

  “Yep,” Chelsea said tilting her head to the side, “he won’t have a chance when I’m through with you.”

  Next Chelsea tackled Aimee's hair. She sprayed all kinds of goop into it then scrunched it before hitting the wavy strands with a searing blast from the dryer to finish off her work of art. Before allowing Aimee to observe the finished product, Chels pulled out her bag of makeup. They compromised. Aimee agreed
to let Chels paint her face, and Chels agreed to leave her as natural as possible. A tad off key, Chels sang while she painted Aimee's eyelids with various shades of brown shadow. A bit of mascara, a smidgeon of lip gloss, and Chels finally finished.

  After a tug-a-war getting the skinny jeans up and zipped, and carefully easing into her new sweater so Aimee wouldn’t mess up her hair or smear her eyes, Chels pulled one last article out of her fashion arsenal; a pair of sleek, black leather shoes - Patrick Winston boots. The name didn’t mean anything to Aimee, but she could tell by the way Chelsea said it with extra emphasis on the name, they were designer…and expensive. Knowing her best friend, Aimee figured Chelsea had dropped a couple of Benjamins, at least, for them.

  “Chels, I can’t wear these.”

  “Aimee, these are the perfect shoes for your outfit. Don’t argue. You have to wear them because I said so.”Aimee tried to hide the frown on her face. Chelsea knew she would give in to whatever she wanted. Aimee turned the boots sideways and examined the three inch pointy heels. Another challenge. So she didn’t need to walk, or breathe, tonight.

  “Okay,” Aimee reluctantly agreed. She delicately slid them over the jeans. “Can I take a peek now?”

  “Nope, just a sec.” Chels quickly added the final touch, the silver earrings, and fussed with a couple wild strands of hair. “There, now you can peek.”

  Aimee turned around to look in the mirror. She drew in a deep breath unable to exhale. It was a miracle; Chelsea’s miracle. Tears welled up in the corners of Aimee's eyes.

  Chels handed Aimee a tissue. “None of that, silly. Don’t you dare mess up all of my hard work.”

  “Chelsea, I know you don’t take this much time for yourself when you have a date. I must be a freakin’ wreck.”

  “I told you, Aimee, you are amazing, when you want to be. A few lessons from me and you’ll be hotter than any of those rich bitches in Beverly Hills.” Chelsea continued spitting out dating hints while she was repacking, then swung her bag over her shoulder and looked at Aimee. “I need to get out of here before he comes. Aimee, trust me, you’ll totally blow him away. Just be yourself, and have a great time. Okay?”