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

by J. A. Schreckenbach

  “You promised,” Dylan reminded her in a fatherly tone as he stared at Aimee with his eyebrows shoved forward.

  She sighed again and unbuckled her belt, slowly slid out, and then followed Dylan up the sidewalk grumbling. Zonker stood at the front window waiting with his little tail wagging madly. Her dad and Dr. Morris were in the den watching TV. Dad popped up to greet Aimee like he hadn’t seen her in months. She promised Dylan she would at least be sociable so Aimee said hello to both, then turned her attention to Z Boy, while everyone sat down and started chatting. Dad kept glancing over at Aimee, hoping she would acknowledge him. It took him a minute to notice the ring on her finger. He winked at Dylan, then casually commented to Aimee, “Hmmm, nice ring,” as he got up and headed towards the kitchen. She was fast on his heels trying to explain so he wouldn’t make a big deal about it. Dylan followed her.

  “Dad, it’s a promise ring, not an engage…”

  Dad cut in nonchalantly, “I know.” Without bothering to look back at her, he opened the refrigerator and stuffed his head inside while he miserably pretended to search for a snack. He knew he had the upper hand, and he was going to make Aimee squirm a bit. Finally, he slammed the door empty-handed, sauntered right past Aimee without saying a word, and whipped a pear arrogantly out of the fruit bowl.

  Aimee pitched a confused look at Dylan, and she tagged right behind Dad. Her patience with him was growing thin. Dr. Morris noticed and jumped in to save her. “Aimee, let me see this beautiful ring I’ve been hearing about.” Aimee stared bemused at Dylan. He shrugged, followed Aimee into the den, and plopped down onto the soft couch cushion next to her. He beamed like a proud cock strutting before two adoring hens while he watched Dr. Morris admire the ring.

  After a few seconds Dylan shared, “I wanted to make sure Mike was cool with it before I gave it to you.”

  Figures. It didn’t surprise Aimee that he would discuss it with Dad before asking her. The two had become quite tight since Aimee's recent accidents had caused both to hover double time to apparently save Aimee from herself. She shook her head suddenly realizing she had no one else to blame but herself for Dylan’s need to include her dad. The three of them had spent a lot of time together over the past six months. Dylan was much more observant than most eighteen year old males. He knew she always worried about pleasing others, especially her dad, so until lately Aimee kind of liked that he enjoyed hanging with her old man and wanted his approval. Evidently, he planned on spending a lot of time with her, perhaps the rest of his life, which kind of meant her dad had to share her. And because Dad really liked how Dylan treated his little girl, Dylan could do no wrong. Geez, Aimee thought, how sweet, incredibly old fashioned, but sweet. “Oh,” Aimee said trying to smile. She turned back to Dr. Morris who was intently examining the unique tapestry-like webbing of the silver.

  Dad chimed in, “Too bad Chels is gone. She would have loved to have seen it.”

  “Oh, Chels!” cried Aimee. “What time is it?”

  Dylan replied, “Eight thirty.”

  “Crap. I promised I would call her today.”

  “Well, it’s still officially today in New York for another thirty minutes so technically you haven’t broken your promise. Yet,” said Dylan.

  Aimee ejected off the couch and blew to her room with Dylan right behind. Aimee dialed Chelsea’s number and Chels answered on the first ring as if she was waiting for her call. Chels didn’t even wait two seconds before she asked how Aimee liked her surprise. Seems like everyone knew, but Aimee. Dylan needed Chelsea’s help to confiscate another ring from her scant collection of jewelry so he got the right size. Figures again. Aimee's best friend was a partner in crime.

  After an hour of chatting with Chels about her ring, updates on their European trip, and of course, at least fifty minutes of the call on how she survived her first day in the Big Apple, she hung up and smirked at Dylan.

  “So, anyone else in on this little surprise?”

  Dylan grinned guiltily. “Well…my parents…and Kara. Aimee, I had to show them,” he said trying to convince Aimee. “I mean it’s not like I was asking for Mike’s, or anyone else’s permission. I just wanted Mike to be okay with the idea. I know how sometimes you get all freaked out with surprises.” Dylan stopped and stared inquisitively at her. “You’re okay with me telling him, aren’t you? I hope you’re not hurt he knew before you.”

  This time Aimee shook her head when she should have. “No, I’m not upset you told anyone else. I kinda think it’s rather…romantic, actually.” Dylan’s lips pulled up from a worried frown into a relieved smile.

  “I’m really glad you like it, Aimee. It looks so amazingly beautiful on your finger.”

  Perched on the side of the bed, her left hand dangling in front of her, Aimee admired the silver twinkling of the webbed lacing under her bed lamp. It reminded Aimee of the fragile beauty of a dewy spider web as the morning sunlight sparkled through it. “Dylan, I don’t just like it. It’s the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen…,” she swung her eyes from the ring to Dylan, “…except for you.”

  **********

  “Hello, Miss Schmidt?” Detective Woolsey greeted after Aimee answered her cell phone.

  “Yes.”

  “Miss Schmidt, this is Detective Woolsey. Mike told me I could reach you on your cell phone. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “No, sir. That’s fine. How can I help you?” asked Aimee, although she already knew what was coming. She had dreaded this call for some time.

  “Well, I would like for you to come into the station today for a lineup. We have a suspect in custody and I’m hoping you’ll be able to ID him. We believe this young man is the person who drove the white pickup that trailed you and ran you off the road,” Detective Woolsey reported in a cop-like manner.

  Dylan continued to glance over at Aimee intently while they drove down the street on their way to catch an early movie. She shrugged at him and kept listening to the detective.

  “So, Miss Schmidt,” he continued, “do you think you could come into the station this afternoon, say in an hour?”

  Suddenly panic started to bubble through Aimee as she realized not only the call she had been dreading, but the time to identify her attacker had finally come. She already knew it was someone from Brandi’s party who had run her off the road in a botched attempt to kill her, and Aimee was positive Brandi was the instigator. The problem was, Aimee had ample time to think about it and she no longer lusted for revenge. She didn’t know if busting the bitch and her young male accomplice was the wisest thing to do. They would get out of it, Aimee was certain. Nicole’s dad was some high priced, fancy criminal attorney, and once the dust settled, Aimee knew they would come after her, only this time they would make sure to get it right. She wasn’t worried about herself, but if they were behind the message that defaced Paul’s SUV, Aimee was worried about Dylan.

  Aimee hesitated a few seconds to think about how she could get out of the detective’s request. Detective Woolsey picked up on her reluctance. “Miss Schmidt, you don’t need to worry about your safety. You’ll be behind a one-way glass partition. The suspect won’t be able to see you. And once identified, we’ll be making some arrests and I promise you, we’ll keep a close eye on these criminals. Your cooperation will help us close this case and get these criminals off the street, Miss Schmidt…” His voice trailed off intentionally leaving all of the responsibility of nabbing this creep in Aimee's lap. What else could she do?

  “Yes, sir,” she finally answered, “I guess we can be there in an hour.”

  Dylan shot Aimee a look with his eyebrows scrunched into a single line. She shrugged again, then ended the call.

  Dylan asked, “What the heck’s going on?”

  “Sorry, Dylan, but they have a suspect being held for me to ID and I kinda need to go into the station in about an hour.”

  “Oh,” Dylan responded, “about friggin’ time.”

  Aimee suddenly felt not just flutters in her
stomach, but freaky chills creeping through her entire body. Dylan must have felt it in Aimee's hand because he instantly squeezed it and started his own interrogation.

  “Hey, you okay?” he asked with one eyebrow raised up as he glanced over at Aimee.

  “I don’t know. I guess. I’m just not sure I really want to do this,” she answered looking out the window to avoid his scrutiny. Like her dad, Dylan definitely was becoming an expert at reading her inner thoughts, some of which she preferred to keep secret. She certainly couldn’t tell him she already knew who caused her accident, and that his ex-girlfriend, Brandi Peters, was behind it. Dylan would flip out and want to handle Brandi himself. Even worse, she couldn’t admit she had seen the white truck and the infamous black Lexus at Brandi’s little party that night because a person can’t be in two places at the same time, right?

  “What do you mean you’re not sure you can do this? This friggin’ asshole almost killed you, Aimee! For Christ’s sake you have to ID him so he can be put away for what he did!” Dylan’s voice crescendoed to a feverish pitch by the end.

  She exhaled heavily, and then answered quietly, “I know…” Aimee looked over at Dylan with frustration obvious in her eyes, “but you know me. I don’t want to cause problems for anyone. I just want to forget it and move on. Besides, I don’t want anything to mess up our trip to Europe next week.”

  “Aimee, nothing is gonna mess up our trip. And you need to do this. This creep could hurt someone else. He needs to be locked away.”

  Yeah, right, she thought, only problem, Dylan, once you find out everyone connected to that horrible night in my life, you’ll become a criminal yourself. Aimee knew just how much Dylan’s hate for Brandi was growing.

  Much to her surprise, when they arrived at the station, Aimee found her dad sitting in Detective Woolsey’s office shooting the breeze with him. She just glared at him as they entered.

  “Hey, Mike. Detective Woolsey, good to see you again,” Dylan greeted with a smile, then a handshake.

  “What are you doing here?” Aimee asked in a cocky tone. Dylan squeezed her hand slightly and shot her a be nice look.

  Dad pretended to ignore her curtness and answered, “Well, Levi thought I should come in to give you support after the lineup, and help if there are any other questions you weren’t able to answer. Anyway, I didn’t want you to have to do this alone.”

  “Well, I’m not alone. Dylan’s with me,” she said shortly, then sat down in the one empty chair on the other end of Levi’s desk. Dylan looked at Aimee, then her dad, and sat down in the chair next to her dad. She could feel her dad and Dylan’s stares. Aimee avoided looking at either of them.

  “So, Miss Schmidt,” Detective Woolsey began, “this is how it works. In a couple minutes you will go into the room down the hall where there is a one way mirror. You will have five men to view, each one with a number….”

  He continued describing in detail what would happen during and after Aimee picked the guy out of the lineup, but she wasn’t really listening. She was somewhere else rapidly playing through in her mind what she wanted do when she finally saw the young man from the party. Aimee definitely had seen both of the guys who came out of the house that night, and she knew one of them belonged to the white truck, and probably would be standing in that lineup.

  A few minutes later they walked into the room with the one way mirror. Aimee felt her heart beat in her throat. The ugly gray walls and its five numbered young men swirled while she stared into the room from the other side of the glass. After a very long moment of silence she quietly said, “Number three,” without taking her eyes from the young man who remarkably resembled Randi, the newest member of Brandi’s hate-filled entourage. Another minute passed and she couldn’t tolerate being in that tiny room one second longer with the three cops all huddled around Aimee chattering about her positive ID. She bolted from the room.

  “Aimee, you okay?” she faintly heard Dylan ask in his usual caring voice. Aimee sensed him towering over her. She looked up as he eased his arm around her shoulders.

  “Yeah, I’m okay now,” she finally answered after taking in another huge gulp of fresh air. Aimee closed her eyes and drank in the air feeling it bring life back into her frazzled body. Every wall of the police station came crashing down on her when she was inside. She had to escape before she freaked.

  “Aimee, you did it, sweetheart,” Dylan continued as he leaned up next to Aimee on the FJ’s grill. “They arrested the guy you ID’ed. Officer Woolsey said this punk drives a white pickup registered to his father, the same truck that ran you off the road. Aimee, they finally have this asshole.” Dylan tried to reassure Aimee that she had done the right thing. “And Detective Woolsey mentioned to your dad and me right after you took off, they’ll be making several more arrests from that night pretty soon. There are others connected to this sonofabitch. He wasn’t acting alone.”

  Aimee's stomach instantly started churning and she felt like she was going to barf right there in front of Dylan.

  “Hey, you look terrible,” Dylan said as he suddenly noticed the gray color in her face. “Here, let’s get in and I’ll turn on the AC.” Dylan held his arm securely around Aimee's shoulders and helped her into his FJ. Instantly he was in the driver’s seat and had the air blowing so hard her hair flew wildly off her shoulders. She closed her eyes and felt the blood start to return into her limbs as the cool air hit her face.

  “Feel better?” he asked.

  She sighed deeply, then turned to Dylan and replied, “I guess. I don’t know, really. I’ll feel better when it’s all over, I hope.” Aimee forced a smile, and then looked out the window. Her dad was walking past to his truck. He turned and waved, then nodded with an encouraging grin on his face. Dylan waved back. She just looked emptily at her dad as Dylan threw the FJ into Reverse. Time certainly wasn’t healing the wound her last journey had inflicted.

  The next day after Aimee stepped out of the shower, she heard her phone ringing loudly from her bedroom. She ran for it before it rolled to voice mail, and quickly looked before answering. DT was on the screen.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Aimee answered as soon as she had the phone to her ear.

  Dylan’s voice screeched through the phone, “Jesus Christ, Aimee, have you heard?!”

  “Heard what?” Aimee answered with a question while she dabbed the towel at her wet hair.

  Anger dripped thicker than Aunt Molly’s cream gravy with each word. It almost sounded like someone else talking, certainly not her always cool and laid back Dylan. Before Aimee could say another word he exclaimed, “They arrested them!”

  “Arrested who?” she asked, now really concerned after she heard the word arrested.

  “Brandi…and Nicole…and that new chick, Randi!” hissed Dylan. “The dude they busted yesterday is Randi’s cousin and they’re all somehow connected to his attempt to kill you. Holy shit, Aimee, I can’t believe it. Those bitches…” But Aimee didn’t let him finish.

  “Ooooomiiigod!” ripped from her mouth. She didn’t need to pretend. Aimee really was shocked just how fast it all came down. She thought she would have a day or two to prepare herself before they got arrested. Aimee figured Dylan would freak when he found out, and she was right.

  “I’m gonna kill her myself, if it’s true…” Dylan snarled with deadly seriousness.

  That’s what worried Aimee most when they asked her to help ID the creep that tried to kill her. She felt positive before long Brandi would go down, but instead of feeling relief, she felt a different feeling; a new surge of fear took over. Brandi would definitely get out of jail, and wiggle herself out of it somehow, just like she did when she got busted for smoking pot with Anna Larson on one of their cheerleading trips with the football team last fall. She got thrown off the cheerleading squad for her little stunt, but that was all. The whole school knew nothing else would happen; no suspension from school…no probation...no community service. Nothing. Her parents had money. Lots of it. And Aime
e knew they hadn’t seen the last of Miss Brandi Peters.

  “Dylan, no way! You can’t get involved. It’s not between you and her. She’s after me. This is between Brandi and me, and trust me, she won’t win. You stay out of this!” she ordered him.

  Dylan didn’t understand what was going on, but he had never heard Aimee talk to anyone like this before. Her tone must have immediately convinced him she meant it. He dropped it, but she knew it wouldn’t be long before it resurfaced. Aimee figured there would be a lot more of Brandi Peters to deal with in their near future.

  **********

  Aimee's dad anxiously paced behind them while Dylan toted bags to his FJ. It was June 28th. They would be flying out of Portland in about seven hours for New York City, then on to Rome, but they wanted to get on the road to make sure they got to Dylan's dad's house to drop off the FJ, then on to the airport way ahead of time.

  “Okay, kids, now make sure you keep only a small amount of cash on hand, and be sure to secure your passports and debit cards. Please, call me, anytime, I mean it, any time of the day if you need anything. You hear me? Anything.”

  As nervous as a father changing his first diaper, Dad flitted around the SUV trying to help Dylan to secure the luggage and lecturing them on how to take care of themselves in foreign countries where Americans could be easy targets for trouble. She tried unenthusiastically to calm Dad. “Don’t worry so much. We’ll be fine.”

  Her dad made her promise to call as soon as they touched down, and check in every day until they returned. He acted like she had never been away from home by herself. To placate him Aimee agreed, not because she really cared if he worried, but she had made a promise to Dylan she would at least try to get along since they would be moving to Eugene soon after their trip to Europe.