“What do you think?”
He stands there, not saying anything.
I skate over to the rail.
“Hold on. You’re going to walk by yourself in the dark?”
“I rode Violet’s bike.”
Roy smirks. “I heard the pink thing was yours.”
“Whatever.”
I’m taking off my skates and Roy sits down next to me and removes his too.
“You don’t have to quit.”
“I asked you here, didn’t I?”
My face feels warm all over. I guess this is my first date.
* * *
WE WALK OUTSIDE and I turn to the right, where I left the bike leaning against a tree.
“Where’s the bike?” Roy asks.
I walk over to the empty spot. “It was here.”
“Well, it’s not here now.”
“I see that,” I snap.
“Maybe you forgot. My dad forgets where he parks the truck all the time.”
“I didn’t forget. It was here.” Until this very moment, I didn’t want that bike, and now all I can think of is how excited Violet was when she gave it to me. How disappointed she’s going to be when she knows I lost it.
While I stare at the spot, Roy walks a wide circle around Skate Land.
“Hate to break it to you, but it looks like your bike is gone.”
When I don’t say anything, Roy says, “Don’t worry. It was just an old bike. It was too little for you anyway.”
“It was a gift. It was Violet’s. This has been a really bad day.”
“Did something else happen?” Roy asks.
I almost tell him about the farm and what I learned about Mom, but I change my mind and say, “I need to get home.”
“Wait here a second.” Roy goes inside and then comes right back. “We’ve got a ride.”
He reads the panic on my face and adds, “I promise, we’ll be home soon.”
* * *
A FEW MINUTES LATER, we crowd into Adam’s big brother Link’s car. Roy and I have to sit so close, our arms and legs touch. In the car, the guys joke about some stupid movie they’ve seen, but all I can think about is the bike. How am I going to tell Violet? And as much as I don’t want to blame Frida, I can’t help but think she had something to do with this. After all, she had disappeared after the big fall.
When we get about a quarter of a mile from the motel, Roy says, “Let us out here. We’ll walk the rest of the way.”
“Moonlight walk, huh?” Adam teases.
“Good night, jerk,” Roy says. Then to Link, “Thanks for the ride.”
“Yes, thank you,” I say. “Nice to meet you.”
“Maybe we can go shopping sometime,” Allie says.
“I’d like that,” I tell her.
Roy and I walk in silence, letting the crickets’ concert fill the air.
I’m still thinking about my parents and their dance below the stars.
“You know, Stevie, Winston really isn’t that bad.”
“I didn’t say he was.”
“He just seems sad to me,” Roy says.
When we reach the garden, Roy and I stop and stare at the ground.
“Well, it’s still here,” Roy whispers.
“Yep, it sure is.”
We’re standing beneath the Texas Sunrise Motel sign. The VACANCY sign flashes, turning us red every other second. Roy picks up my hand and kisses it. It’s a small kiss, a peck really, but I’ve never been kissed before, and I’m counting this one. Then he steps toward me and his lips touch mine for a long moment. At least long enough for the sign to flash six times.
“Good night,” I whisper, and take off, hearing him call out to me in a hushed voice, “Good night, Stevie!”
I move briskly toward my bedroom window. I’m relieved to see the hairbrush in the same place I left it. I lift the window and step inside. My foot lands on an object, probably one of my shoes, and I fall to the floor, my third fall this evening, but at least I’m back in my room.
Then I hear, “Like mother, like daughter.”
Winston sits in a chair a few feet from my window. Before I can stand, he gets out of the chair and leaves.
I stretch out on the bed, fully dressed, and wait for Winston’s snoring. It takes a long time tonight. So long that I fall into a light slumber. At four thirty, I wake up and ease out of bed. Winston doesn’t usually get up until five, so I make good use of the time. I throw a few things into my backpack—underwear and tops. The record player and the stack of records beckon to me. They’ll have to stay. Then I open the window and slip out, not bothering to close it.
Like mother, like daughter, I make my escape. I head in the direction of the highway. I don’t look over my shoulder. Except for a sliver of moon, it’s pitch dark. With the motel at my back, I walk in the grass along the service road, trying to get my bearings. When I do, I turn and face west. I’ll go home. I’ll tell Paco to stop the sale. That it’s my farm.
I take a few steps, then stop.
I plop down on the grass and hit my fists against the ground, over and over again.
Chapter Thirty-One
MY BEDROOM WINDOW is down and locked. I’ve been caught again. This time I don’t care. The drapes from the office are closed, but the lamp from inside casts an orange glow on them.
I head toward the office door and slowly open it, causing the warning alarm to hold its buzz longer than usual.
“Checking out?” Winston asks.
At first I think he doesn’t know it’s me. Then I realize he does.
“No,” I whisper.
I wait for him to say something. Anything. Checkmate. You win. But Winston’s eyes are soft. It’s like he’s concerned but doesn’t know what to say. So I say it for him.
“Good night.”
“Good morning,” Winston says back.
I go to my room and go to sleep, counting the years I have before I can take off for Australia.
* * *
THE ALARM CLOCK IS UNDER MY PILLOW, and its dull ringing wakes me up. I must have covered it when it went off earlier. It’s fifteen minutes past the time I usually get up, so I quickly get dressed and don’t bother to eat. “I’m ready,” I tell Winston.
He grabs his keys and turns the BE BACK SOON sign around. “Let’s go.”
As we move away from the apartment he says, “How about dinner out tonight?”
* * *
TODAY IS THE LAST DAY of class. I almost forget, until I see Frida get off the back of her mom’s motorcycle with a Tupperware container.
Before taking off, her mom hollers, “Save me a cupcake!”
I was supposed to bring something too. I’d even thought of making cookies.
“Did you learn to skate?” Frida is smiling a little. I figure she’s gloating about how she got away with stealing my bike. Violet’s bike.
“Where’d you go off to with your boyfriend?” I ask.
“Stub? He’s not my boyfriend. Our mom and dad go out together. He’s like a brother.”
“Whatever,” I mutter.
“What’d you say?”
Mrs. Crump opens the door. She’s wearing a red straw hat and a purple pantsuit. A spicy tomato smell fills the house.
“There’re my students. Ready for your party?”
“Mrs. Crump, that hat is rockin’. Going anywhere special?” Frida is acting strange with this phony politeness. Even her voice sounds gooey.
Touching the brim, Mrs. Crump says, “I’m a member of the Red Hat Society. We’re having a lasagna luncheon here right after class.”
I forgot to tell Winston we get out early today. He probably doesn’t even realize it’s the last day. I ask Mrs. Crump if I can use her phone in the kitchen. While she and Frida go upstairs, I leave a message for Winston at the motel.
Frida is sitting diagonally across from Mrs. Crump at the table. There are chips and dip on the table, and the two of them have already started attacking the food. They look as cozy
as Violet and me in her parlor with our bowl of popcorn.
“Frida was just telling me she saw you at the skating rink last night.”
I glare at Frida so hard, she squirms. She looks confused.
“I didn’t know how to skate, but I did a few laps before the end of the night. Of course, Frida probably didn’t notice that.”
“No,” Frida says, “I had to leave early.”
“I wanted to leave early too, but someone stole my transportation.” I stare right at her. She’s not getting off the hook so easy.
Frida frowns and opens up the container. There are six cupcakes with light-brown frosting.
“That’s dreadful,” Mrs. Crump says to me. “Did you get it back?”
“No.” I keep my eyes on Frida.
“How about a cupcake?” Frida holds out the container to Mrs. Crump.
Mrs. Crump leans over the goods and smiles. “Chocolate?”
“German chocolate,” Frida says proudly. “I made them.”
Mrs. Crump grabs one. “German chocolate is one of my favorites, and I haven’t had it in ages.”
Frida turns the container to me, but I shake my head and grab a chip.
Mrs. Crump nibbles at hers. “Scrumptious, Frida! And you made them yourself. I’m impressed. You’re so creative.”
“She’s creative all right,” I say.
Frida narrows her eyes at me and grabs one of the cupcakes before sealing the container top back on.
Two folders are underneath the atlas. I recognize one—my Australia report. Mrs. Crump hands Frida hers. “I learned so much about Pluto from your report.”
Pluto isn’t even a planet. And it certainly isn’t studied in other geography classes.
Frida peeks at the grade. She looks pleased, so it must be good.
Roy is right. Mrs. Crump is a joke of a teacher.
She gives me mine. “You are a writer, Stevie.”
I guess Mrs. Crump isn’t that bad.
“I can tell you want to go to Australia, the way you wrote about it,” she says.
I think of my jar. Right now, Australia seems as impossible as the farm.
“What do you girls have planned for the summer?” Mrs. Crump asks.
“I’m going to my dad’s,” Frida says. “He lives in San Diego.”
They both turn their heads to me.
“I’m taking care of a garden,” I tell them.
“What have you planted?” Mrs. Crump glances at the clock. I guess she’s thinking about the grand ol’ time she’s going to have with those Red Hats.
Somehow we manage to eat and chat about nothing for two hours. Frida tells me her mother likes to garden. I do my best not to act impressed, but I’m trying to imagine her mom planting and pruning wearing her tight leather pants.
Mrs. Crump checks the clock again, then says, “I look forward to seeing you next year.”
“I won’t be back next year.” Frida seems thrilled about this announcement.
“Oh?” Mrs. Crump asks, but she doesn’t sound surprised or disappointed.
“My mom was going to call you soon. I’m going to the high school.”
Right now I feel like I’ve been sentenced to four years of solitary confinement. And I’m not even the criminal.
We make our way downstairs just as the doorbell rings. A red and purple wave can be seen through the front door’s glass. Mrs. Crump’s Red Hat Society has arrived. Then Frida does something that makes my jaw drop. She turns and gives Mrs. Crump a big hug. “You’re a cool lady,” she says.
The way Mrs. Crump’s eyes light up, I can tell she likes hearing that.
Then Frida whispers in her ear, but I hear her anyway. “Thanks for passing me.”
She skips most days and still passes? What a scam.
Mrs. Crump hugs me. “See you in September, Stevie.”
The Red Hat ladies buzz in, laughing and talking with one another, bringing a powdery floral scent into the foyer. They hardly notice Frida and me as we leave. No sign of Winston. Frida heads toward her mom, who’s at the curb, straddling her motorcycle, smoking a cigarette.
Frida stops and turns. “By the way, I didn’t steal your bike.” She sounds sad and disappointed.
She puts on her helmet, hops on the back of the motorcycle, and leans into her mom’s right shoulder. They take off, with Frida holding tightly to her Tupperware container. The motorcycle roars down the block, Frida’s mom’s hair blowing wildly. And even though Frida didn’t give me any reason at all to believe her about the bike, for some reason now I do.
Chapter Thirty-Two
WINSTON’S VAN IS IN SIGHT. I want to get out of here. I want to go to my room, lock the door, and stay inside forever. But before I do, I have to tell Violet about her bike.
When I buckle my seat belt, Winston asks, “Did you eat too much party junk to have lunch? I thought we’d go out now instead of supper.”
“Sure.”
“How was the last day?” He sounds interested. And now I don’t feel like talking. At least about school.
“It was fine.” Then I add, “Frida won’t be there next year.”
“Is she moving?” He sounds almost happy at the thought of it.
“No. She’s going to the high school.”
“I see.”
“Not me, though. Right?”
Winston changes the subject. “I think you’ll like the menu here. It’s the place with the cupcakes.”
We drive around the courthouse, then past the Confederate soldier statue, and make our way to the Rise and Shine Diner.
Winston orders the breakfast special—three eggs, bacon, hash-brown potatoes, and Texas toast. I order a green-chili hamburger and potato salad. He surveys the restaurant and nods to a man across the room.
The man nods back. Since I’ve been here, I’ve learned that’s a Texas greeting of sorts. A two-old-men-who-kind-of-know-each-other greeting.
Winston and I don’t talk. We just take in the diner’s sounds, the clinks of the plates against silverware, and bits of other people’s conversations.
When our meals arrive, Winston breaks the silence. “You have an aunt who’d like to see you.”
My entire body goes numb. “Mom had a sister?”
He shakes his head and wipes away the egg yolk on his lips. “Your dad. His sister.”
“Why didn’t—” I don’t finish the question, because I realize it wasn’t his place to tell me.
Winston picks up on my unfinished question. “I didn’t know about her or I’d have told you sooner. She just learned about you.”
That means she just found out about Dad and Mom’s accident. “She called you?”
“Yes. She found me. Not sure how. Probably Paco. But, anyway, she lives in Louisiana. Has some plant business, a nursery. She’d like you to visit.”
I don’t know what to think. This is like saying some stranger has a right to know me suddenly. She must not be that great if Dad never told me about her.
“I had her checked out,” Winston says. “She seems like a decent person. I think it’s a good idea for you to go there.”
He doesn’t say for good or a week or a weekend.
“What’s her name?”
“Teresa Smith.”
“Smith? Are you sure she’s a real person?”
“Yes,” he says. “She’s excited to meet you. Said her children are too. She says you can come next week.”
“What if I don’t want to go?”
“You don’t seem happy here. I think you should meet your family.”
Something is building inside me and I can’t hold back. I won’t hold back. Not this time.
“I know I was born here,” I blurt a little too loud. A few people turn their heads in our direction.
Winston inhales long and hard. I expect he’s going to ask me how I know, but instead he says, “I should have told you. I guess I thought your parents would have.”
“I’d ask them, but they’re not here anymore.”
He pushes his plate away even though there’re still two pieces of bacon drowning in yolk. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
The waitress comes by to ask if we’re ready for our check. “We’re going to be a while,” Winston tells her. “Coffee?” he asks me.
I nod.
We wait until the coffee arrives before we start. I put a lot of sugar in mine. So much so that Winston says, “You don’t have diabetes, do you?”
“Not unless you can get it from eating a whole bunch of canned soup.”
Winston smiles at that, but I don’t want to get too comfortable. I feel like my past was one big lie. I need the truth.
Winston glances around the diner and leans toward me, speaking in a lower voice. “Look, it was messy. Your dad didn’t know your mom was expecting you. I made Sheppard leave. I even gave him my motorcycle. He’d admired it and I figured it would get him away from her quicker.”
I should have known. Dad wouldn’t have deserted Mom. I don’t tell Winston we still had the motorcycle until Paco sold it with all the other stuff. Now it makes sense that Dad snapped at me when I asked why he never rode it. Maybe that’s why he never sold it either. He didn’t think it was his to sell.
“How long was he here?”
“Two weeks. Three. Maybe a month.” Winston squirms in his seat. “Listen, I don’t remember. Your mom was still seventeen. He was too old for her.”
After Mrs. Crump opened up I’d done the math. “She was almost eighteen and he was only twenty.”
I remember Dad’s words. His only words about Winston. He didn’t like the likes of me.
His tattoo with the daisy and tornado flash into my thoughts. Mom’s tornado is sitting across from me. And now I’m caught up in the same storm.
Out the window, people are passing by. I search each face. Did they know me? Did I know them? “But all I remember is New Mexico.”
I take a swig of coffee.
“Your dad came back when your mom turned twenty. You were two.” His voice cracks on those last words, and he looks away toward the bathroom.
We move our silverware around our plates, but we don’t eat anymore. It’s just the scratching of the forks filling the space.
Blooming at the Texas Sunrise Motel Page 12
