by Julia Crane
“Catch any bad guys today?” I asked as I took the seat across from him.
“You know I don’t like to talk about work.” A muscle clenched in his jaw, and he ran a hand through his dark hair. “Tell me about your day. When is your next concert?”
“At the end of the month we have a Spring Fling concert.” I reached over and scooped potatoes onto my plate. “I hope you can make it this time.”
“She has a solo,” Mom said proudly.
“I’ll be there. As soon as you have the information, I’ll put in for the day off.” He paused, and then met my eyes. “I’ve missed too much. Before we know it, you’ll be out of the house and on your way to college. I don’t know how you grew up so fast.”
I’d never heard my dad’s voice so sober. He was usually jovial, so it was obvious something was bothering him.
“You’re stuck with me for a couple more years.” I took a bite of tough pork chop; it was like chewing on leather. “It’s delicious, Mom.”
After we ate, I gathered the dishes and followed my mother to the sink. My head had finally stopped throbbing, but my back was still bothering me a little bit. I stacked the plates on the counter and asked, “What’s up with Dad?”
My mom turned on the water and lowered her voice. “They found the body of the little boy they’ve been searching for.”
I glanced through the archway that led from the kitchen to the living room. My father sat on the couch, staring at a dark television screen without really seeing it.
“That sucks,” I murmured, pulling a dishtowel from the drawer.
“Yeah.” Mom ran the plate under the hot water and then handed it to me. “He always blames himself if they don’t find them in time.”
I bent to put the plate in the bottom rack of the dishwasher. “It’s not his fault.”
“He’ll get a new case and move on. It just takes him a little while.” She handed me another plate, still warm from the faucet.
Many of my friends hated their parents, or at least didn’t get along with them, but my parents were okay. Sure, we had our disagreements, but they were always there for me. My dad was a good man. He really cared about his job, and especially the cases that involved kids—they really got to him. I admired that about my dad. Other officers would tell him not to let it get personal, but he seemed to do a better job when he did.
Once the kitchen was clean, Mom slung an arm around my shoulders and asked, “Want to go watch Grey’s Anatomy?”
“Yes!”
“I’ll make the popcorn.” She shooed me out of the kitchen.
Mom and I shared a passion for that show. Every week, we would sit down together and watch it. I grabbed my favorite spot on the couch, which was the built-in chaise on the left end. I clutched one of the soft brown pillows to my chest and waited for Mom to get back so I could hit play on the DVR.
Mom sat next to me. She tucked her legs under her and offered me the extra-buttered popcorn as I turned on the show.
“He’s so hot,” Mom swooned over her favorite doctor on the show. Dad shook his head and went into the other room.
I rolled my eyes. “I guess they’re okay for old men.”
She laughed and elbowed me. “Not old. Distinguished.”
“Whatever.” I shoved another handful of popcorn in my mouth.
When the show ended, Mom hit the power button on the remote and asked, “How’s school?”
“Fine.” She always wanted to know what was going on with school. School was boring. I didn’t know why she bothered to ask; my answer was always the same.
“Understanding all your classes?”
“My grades are fine, Mom. Although I don’t think I did very well on a pop quiz this week.” I didn’t like keeping stuff from my parents. It was pointless: they’d find out anyway.
“Did you read what you were supposed to?”
“No.”
“Why not?” she asked. Just like always, there was no judgment in my mother’s voice, only a need to understand and help.
“It’s Shakespeare. It makes no sense.”
She nodded thoughtfully, then brushed a lock of hair away from my eyes. “I never liked reading those books either, but they are important, Rylie. You need to do your assignments.”
“I know. Sorry,” I told her, my eyes on the southwestern-patterned blanket over my knees.
“I’ll help you if you want.”
“I might take you up on that.” I breathed a sigh of relief. I was lucky that my parents were understanding and willing to help me. But I also knew that if I didn’t do my schoolwork and started getting bad grades, I would be in trouble.
“Good.” She switched gears. “What about Sierra? How is she doing these days? It seems like I haven’t seen her around much lately.”
“Better. She’s going on her first date since Trent.”
“That’s good. And Adam?”
“No different than yesterday.” I laughed.
My mom grinned. “I’m just making sure nothing is new. Now that you’re a teen, we don’t spend as much time together as we used to. I need to feel like I’m up to speed on your life.”
“Nothing new, Mom. Same old stuff.” I yawned. “I think I’ll go up to my room. I have one more chapter to read before bed.”
“Okay.” She kissed my cheek. “Have a good night.”
I climbed the stairs slowly, dreading having to open that Shakespeare play again. It wasn’t that I couldn’t appreciate him—I knew he was “one of the greatest playwrights” ever. But I just couldn’t get into it. All “wither thou goest” and “prithy thee,” it was like a completely different language.
I grabbed the book out of my backpack, because it wasn’t worth being surprised by another pop quiz to fail. Falling on the bed, I opened it and started reading. It was a pain, but I finally finished the chapter. Problem was, I forgot what I read as soon as I closed the book.
Ten minutes later, I found myself standing in front of the mirror in my bathroom again. I looked…slimmer? I wasn’t overweight to begin with, but I felt—and looked—like I was thinning out a little. My cheekbones looked more prominent. Maybe I was getting taller? I leaned closer and rubbed my birthmark; it almost looked darker than usual, which was so not cool. I wondered if a plastic surgeon could cover it up. Maybe I’d look into that someday.
I straightened the things on my dresser, thinking about what my parents would say if I actually had it removed. They had always thought it was neat, and they claimed it made me unique. It might be neat and unique if I could cover it up once in a while. I collapsed to my comforter and considered turning on my iPod for some music before bed.
There was a knock on my door, and my father called, “Rylie?”
I stared at the door, aghast. He rarely came in my room. This case obviously hit him even harder than most.
“Come in.”
He shuffled across the room and stopped beside my bed, his hands dangling at his sides. “Just wanted to say good night.”
I felt a rush of sympathy. He gave so much to the police department—so much time, energy, and emotion, and I rarely saw it give him anything back. I jumped to my feet and gave him a big hug. “You okay, Dad?”
“Yes,” he said, his voice muffled against my hair. He dropped a brief kiss to my hairline and pulled away to smile at me. “Just a long week. I’ll be okay.”
“Mom told me.”
Dad sighed. “I wish she hadn’t. I don’t like to bring my work home.”
“I’m not a little girl anymore,” I reminded him.
“No, you’re not,” he agreed, tapping my chin gently. “You’ll be going off to college soon. But I still want to protect you as long as I can.”
“You’ve done a good job so far.” I grinned, trying to ease the mood. It made me a little uncomfortable seeing my dad upset. He was always the strong one.
“I can’t imagine what that boy’s family is going through right now.” He rubbed his face and looked away. There wa
s so much emotion in his eyes.
I didn’t know how to respond. “It’s not your fault, Dad.”
“I know. I just wish there had been a better outcome. Have you thought more about college?” Smooth subject change, if a bit abrupt.
“A little,” I answered, sitting back down on my bed and tugging a pillow into my lap. “I have a couple of years to make up my mind. I still like the idea of joining the police department.”
He scoffed. “Not too much fun most days. Definitely not as glamorous as it appears on TV.” His eyes settled on mine, and he said softly, “I support whatever you want, but I’ll always worry if you join the force.”
“But what you do is important. You help a lot of people.”
Dad just nodded. “I’ll be proud no matter what you decide to do. With that voice of yours you might be the next—what’s her name? Your favorite singer?”
“Adele? Hardly, Dad, she’s one of a kind.”
“So are you, sweetie.” He ruffled my hair like he used to when I was little. “Good night.”
“Night, Dad.” I watched him trudge from the room, his shoulders hunched and weary, and for the first time, I was really worried about my dad.
I woke up feeling strange: lightheaded and foggy. I really didn’t want to get up, but I kicked the blankets off and stood. The room spun, and I put my hands on the wall to steady myself. What the hell was going on? Just my luck. My birthday was tomorrow, and I was going to be sick for it.
I carefully crossed the room, my sights set on simply making it to the closet, but something in the mirror over my dresser caught my attention. I stopped and stared.
My skin looked different—smoother. Confused, I moved closer to the mirror and leaned forward to study myself. Usually my face was a little red and blotchy when I first woke up. Today, it was pale and had no imperfections—not even the little whitehead that had been coming up on my nose.
My eyes drifted to my ears, and my breath caught in my throat. I took a step closer to the mirror. They looked different, too, as if they were pointed. Oh, c’mon! I rubbed my eyes and looked again, and then let out a deep breath. I looked perfectly normal.
I told myself either I was still dreaming, or I could be going crazy.
After a hot shower, I dressed in a pair of my favorite jeans and a white cami with a floral blouse over it. I leaned over the sink in the bathroom, wielding my concealer stick. Staring at my birthmark, I pursed my lips and asked it, “What should I do with you today?”
Strangely enough, it looked like it was pulsing.
I blinked and stared, sure I had imagined it. It looked normal. Maybe I really was coming down with something.
Sierra picked me up as usual and talked about Ian the whole way to school. I smiled as I listened to her, and when the excitement drew to a close, I said, “It’s good to see you so excited about someone. Been a long time.”
She glanced over at me, frowning. “I don’t want to talk about Trent. We are never to mention his name again? Understand?”
“Umm, sure, but I didn’t even say his name.” Trent and Sierra had dated for almost all of ninth grade. Over the summer, she found out that he had cheated on her, and she dumped him. Even now, nine months later, she was still hurt and didn’t like talking about him. I was just glad she was moving on, and steered the conversation into safer territory. “What movie are you and Ian going to see?”
“I don’t know yet. We’ll decide when we get there.” She shifted in her seat and flicked the air conditioning on. She didn’t have the top down like she usually did. “You feeling better today?”
Not really, I thought, but said, “A little.” Seemed like I was doing a lot of lying lately.
“Good. You can’t be sick for your birthday. That would really suck.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Did your mom get everything for your party?” she asked as we turned onto our school’s street.
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “You know how she is. I’m sure she’ll have every detail covered. She loves birthdays. She’s probably been planning my sixteenth birthday since I was a baby.”
Sierra laughed and whipped into her parking spot. “I’ll be there early to help set up.”
“I know. You always are.” She had spent the past seven birthdays with me, and vice versa. I didn’t even know if a birthday could ever be complete without her.
“Maybe by then, you’ll have a new boyfriend,” I teased. I gripped the strap of my backpack and pushed open the car door.
“We haven’t even gone on our date yet. Maybe he’s a jerk,” she said with a laugh, exiting the car on her side. She slammed her door and met me at the front of the car. “You going to Adam’s game later?”
“Yup, wouldn’t miss it.”
We met Adam in our usual area out front, where he was talking with Colin. Colin was a long, lanky guy with dark hair that swiped across his forehead, and a freckled face that always seemed to be smiling. I gave him a wave as I slid in next to Adam, bumping him with an elbow.
He put his arm around me. “Hey, babe.”
I chuckled. He only called me “babe” when he was around his baseball buddies. He also developed a ridiculous jock swagger and deepened his voice. It was silly, but it tickled me.
“Hey, slugger,” I teased back and punched him on the side of his arm.
He rolled his eyes and planted his lips on mine. “Mmm. Cinnamon?”
I blushed. “I had cinnamon toast for breakfast.”
The bell rang, signaling the start of our school day.
“I’ve gotta get goin’,” Colin said in his deep, southern twang. “Catch y’all later.”
“Bye, Colin,” I told him, and Sierra waved, even though her face was pointed down at her cell phone. That girl was always on Facebook.
We walked inside hand in hand, and Sierra split to go to her locker at the other end of the main hall.
“So, Sierra and Ian? That’s kinda strange, isn’t it?” Adam asked, yanking open his locker. It always seemed to get stuck.
“I guess. She seems to really be into him.” I was jostled from behind as a crowd of football players in orange and white letterman jackets rushed past, their raucous yells echoing off the ceiling. I rolled my eyes at Adam, and he chuckled.
“Interesting, though,” he went on. “Ian’s a strange one.”
“As long as he’s good to her, I don’t care how he looks or what he wears,” I responded with a shrug, locating my books in my locker. I’d forgotten to take my biology notes home, but luckily, I didn’t think we had any homework last night.
Adam nodded like he agreed, but he didn’t say anything.
“You be nice to him,” I warned. Not that Adam was the kind of guy to be mean to anyone.
“Of course.” He slammed his door and gave me a wicked grin, turning to press me against my own locker. His body leaned into mine, hard and muscular, and his eyes drifted to my lips and back again. His kiss, when it came, took my breath away.
“Mr. Garner, Miss McCallister, break it up and get to your classes.” The teachers always posted up in the hallway during breaks, watching for misbehaving students. We’d just been caught.
I felt the heat rush to my face, and we broke apart guiltily. Adam relieved me of my books, and we took off towards our first-period class.
It turned out to be a long day. My headache came and went a few times, and I spent all of sixth period arguing with myself whether or not I should ask my mom to take me to the doctor.
Thankfully, my head stopped pounding by game time. If it hadn’t, the packed bleachers and the loud, discombobulated sound of the announcer would have killed me. Plus, I wouldn’t have been able to cheer as loudly for Adam—tonight was an important game for the playoffs.
Adam glanced up from the pitcher’s mound and waved, looking so cute and sexy in his uniform. There was something about the tight white pants that gave me shivers. He struck the next batter out, and the crowd screamed and stomped on th
e bleachers, the thuds reverberating through me. I felt like jumping up and yelling, He’s my boyfriend! but figured that might be a bit much, and Sierra would never let me live it down.
We huddled together on the bleachers, my legs squeezed between Sierra’s and the girl next to me. Jack pushed his way through the stands, carrying a large tray of nachos and sodas. I reached over to grab a chip as he took his seat on the other side of Emma, and she slapped my hand. “Get your own. Jack got those for me.”
“Don’t be greedy, Emma. It’s not an appealing look on you,” Sierra chimed in.
Emma threw a nacho at Sierra, and she picked it off her shirt and ate it. I giggled and shook my head. I loved these guys; it was never a dull moment.
“Pay attention. Adam’s up next,” Jack said, shushing us.
It was the top of the seventh inning, and the game was tied. Adam strolled over to the dugout and gulped down some water before taking his place as batter.
I bit my lip in anticipation as he let the first ball go by.
“Strike!” the umpire called.
“C’mon, Adam,” I whispered.
Adam hit the second ball, and it flew high. He tossed the bat and started running. The crowd cheered as he rounded first base, then second, and third. We were on our feet as he slid into home.
“Woo-hoo, Adam!!!!!” I yelled, my voice lost in the roar.
After the game, we all went to the local high school hangout, Bob’s Diner. They had the best burgers and milkshakes in town. Sierra and I jumped out of Adam’s truck and made our way to the door. As soon as we walked inside, everyone started clapping and chanting, “Garner! Garner!”
Adam was bright red, but a smile spread across his face. He might have acted like he didn’t, but he loved the attention. I looked around and found Jack and Emma sitting in the corner booth. They waved us over. Emma scooted closer to Jack, and Sierra slid next to her. Adam and I took the other side.
Jack’s face was animated and full of excitement. His hazel eyes lit up. “Man, we’re going to the playoffs because of you. I couldn’t believe it when you hit that home run. The game was in the bag after that.”
