If Heaven Had Cheese Fries

by Stephanie Staudinger

  Laughter from some sitcom on the television floated outside.

  I had to lean in to hear Alyssa, who seemed to be no stranger to the rules of the house.

  According to Alyssa, they had made it to the Hillner place in no time, thanks to Noah’s knowledge of secret routes which he learned from his time as a delivery driver. They got there just as waves of red and blue lights descended upon the place. The three of them found some bushes where they could hide and view the action. As it turned out, Matt and a few others had counted on hiding from the police in those bushes. Matt tumbled in, landing directly on top of Noah, which is when the fists started flying. They eventually rolled out, into the direct path of a cop’s flashlight. They both were ticketed.

  “Jenna even had to go get her stomach pumped,” Thorton interjected.

  I felt sick for a moment, “Is she okay?”

  “Who the hell cares?” Thorton sighed, looking up at me. “Honestly, sometimes it’s hard to tell whose side you’re on.”

  I’m on the side that doesn’t get us all killed in a few months, I thought to myself, but instead I softly said, “I just want to make sure everyone is okay.” That much was true.

  Those three had each other, and, despite the bumps and bruises, they, for the most part, seemed like they would be okay. I called my dad to pick me up, all the while hoping Matt would return one of my texts.

  I was sad. Each group had their own problems to deal with and each other to rely on. I was painfully aware of how little I actually knew anyone in my life including myself.

  “You’re Abigail,” a voice whispered in my head.

  It was Glen. If only it were that easy. It was a terrifying thing to know you led a previous life but could no longer remember anything of it.

  CHAPTER 14

  The smell of bacon wafted through my open door. Although I was still half asleep, I thought it was a good way to wake up, and Burt agreed. He was already meowing at the door to be let out so that he could follow the scent. Dad always obliged, even giving Burt his favorite scratches behind the ears.

  I was thankful Dad bought my story that I had found a stray while he was away. It was easier than explaining that he came from heaven.

  Ultimately, Burt was allowed to stay even though he ran and hid whenever Dad suggested getting him fixed and caught up on shots.

  “Breakfast, honey.” My dad popped his head in. “It’s already past 9.”

  “Be there in a sec.” I grabbed a robe nearby, threw it on, and found quite the spread set up in the kitchen. Bacon, French toast, regular toast, and even a few different syrups in little pourers. I picked up one to inspect it. It smelled like some type of wild berry.

  “Homemade.” Dad nodded at me from his spot at the table, his glasses peering at me over the top of his newspaper.

  I made a plate and sat down with him, eating slowly as he made conversation. “How’s the semester going? Kids nice?” he asked as he folded up the paper, setting it aside.

  It was the one question that I hoped he wouldn’t ask.

  “They’re fine,” I responded, slowly chewing on a piece of French toast. “Actually, I have a favor to ask.”

  I didn’t quite know how to explain to Dad who Jenna was and why I needed to go visit her.

  Thanks to some social media stalking on the previous night, I had learned that she was admitted to the hospital overnight. She at least seemed well enough to be cracking jokes. She had posted a picture of her hospital bracelet with the letters ‘FML’ above it.

  I had to scour through hundreds of comments before I realized that she was admitted for a stomach pump at a local hospital.

  She was home now, as shown by another Facebook post, this time a selfie. Although she looked as if she had been through hell, her dark hair was expertly straightened and her cheekbones were highlighted. Ignore the bags under her eyes, and you wouldn’t be able to pick up on any clue that last night was a bad night for all of them.

  Although I didn’t know where she lived, I was slowly learning that that didn’t matter. Glen was still around in the form of GPS and text messages.

  “Abigail?” I’d forgotten I had asked my dad a favor.

  “Sorry.” I was down to the final few bites of my French toast, which I moved around my plate with a fork. “Can I go visit a friend for a little bit?”

  Dad was quiet for a moment. He wrinkled his nose just a little, causing his glasses to shift ever so slightly before he responded. “I’d really like to meet your new friends soon, if that’s okay.”

  Sure, Dad, let’s have a killer over for coffee is what I wanted to say. Instead I replied, “I’m sure we can figure something out.

  “Okay.” He had returned to his paper. “Just don’t stay out all day, and put gas in the car.”

  I excused myself from the table, my dad never taking his eyes off the paper.

  When I found Jenna’s home, I was surprised at just how average it was. It was a small, one-story yellow house at the end of a dead-end street. I parked across the street, turning off the GPS which contained the address that had mysteriously been inputted.

  I didn’t expect her to answer as I raised my hand and knocked lightly on the door. A few moments later, however, the door opened just enough for Jenna to pop her head through. When she saw me, she didn’t seem surprised at all.

  “Hey,” she said, her voice hoarse. Since posting the photo on Instagram she had added more makeup and a fresh layer of lip gloss. She was good at hiding how shitty she probably felt.

  “My parents aren’t home, so I’m not supposed to have anyone in,” she said as she opened the door. It was an invitation and a dismissal all at once. I wasn’t sure what to do, realizing just how little I knew Jenna. Our interactions up until this point had been brief and not entirely pleasant.

  “Girl, get in the house.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me in. “My parents are never home anyways.”

  I followed her down a winding hallway, well aware that the heels on my shoes were loudly clicking on the hardwood floors, echoing throughout the empty home.

  “Here, we can hang out in here.” She ushered me into what appeared to be a guest room, or a very unlived-in bedroom.

  We sat down on the edge of the bed.

  “So,” She started before trailing off. “I’m assuming you’re here because you already heard the news. I want to be surprised at how fast news travels at that school, but I’m not.” Jenna focused on picking fuzzies off her socks. I watched her in silence as she began to make a small pile between us. I was waiting for her to continue.

  “I’m not coming back.” She stopped what she was doing and looked at me.

  I wasn’t sure if I had heard her correctly. “You’re not coming back?” I repeated.

  “No.” She shook her head slowly. “My parents are sending me to a ninety-day inpatient stay at a rehab facility.” I could tell she had a lump rising in her throat. For the second time since meeting her, I could tell that she wasn’t in complete control of her life, despite the persona she seemed to show to everyone at the school. This meant I could also rule her out as a school shooter.

  “And after that, who knows. Mom doesn’t think it’s a good idea going back to school immediately after. She’s probably right...” Jenna trailed off.

  I nodded. “Understandable. Are you okay?”

  Jenna abruptly grabbed my hand, and I felt something shift between us. It was as if this scared girl had really just been hoping someone, anyone, would reach out and ask her how she was doing. “I’ll be okay. I just need to do this for me. For everyone around me.”

  I could see the tears forming in her eyes. I reached out and awkwardly wrapped my arms around her frail shoulders. I didn’t know Jenna, but it just felt right in that moment.

  “You’re very sweet.” Jenna leaned back and gave a half cry, half laugh. “I needed that hug. Now, I need you to do something for me since you’re here.”

  Whatever awkwardness existed between us had been broken
by one simple hug. I leaned in closer. “I’ve got you.”

  “I need you to convince Matt that the end-of-the-year project is a bad idea.” Jenna flopped back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Someone’s going to get hurt, and while typically I’d lo-”

  Her last word was cut off by a voice yelling down the hallway. “Honey? Are you still in bed?”

  “Shit.” Jenna bolted straight up, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards the window. “Out you go.” In one swift move she opened the glass pane and the mesh netting. “Talk to him. I just don’t want anyone else driven to drinking.”

  She gave me a small shove and I tumbled out, getting my leg stuck in a rose bush beneath the window.

  I stayed crouched where I was for a moment longer, making sure no cars were coming down the street. I could hear Jenna’s mom asking something about a paisley suitcase. When the door to that back room shut and their voices got quieter, I knew it was my time to move on.

  I tried Matt’s cell phone again on my drive home. On the second ring, he answered.

  I expected for him to be mad that I hadn’t shown up the other night, or even to scold me for not having been there. In the end, however, he did neither of those things. He talked briefly about his version of events that night, which more or less were the same as what Noah had said. Although in Matt’s version, he was the one who really “beefed” Noah up. His words, not mine.

  What was new, however, was the looming punishment I learned about.

  I turned off my car as soon as I pulled into the driveway. Dad’s car was gone, and Matt had my undivided attention.

  “So yeah. Mr. Nash literally shows up out of left field,” Matt was talking excitedly. “Right after the cops got there, too. No clue how he heard about what was going down so quickly. I swear that man has some sort of Spidey senses or some shit.”

  I laughed. “Matt. Finish your story.”

  “Right. Anyways. Cops broke up the fight, made all of us who were underage line up legit it was like the firing squad. The volleyball girls that showed up were even crying. Crazy, right? They’ve taken balls to the head before, but God forbid they find themselves face to face with a cop.”

  I reclined my seat back and cracked a window. I could tell this conversation was going to take a while.

  “So Angel Nash literally calms everyone down in a matter of minutes. He whispers whatever voodoo magic he had up his sleeve to the cops and they leave. Just like that. My uncle and sister are in some deep shit, though, for hosting.” Matt let out a sigh. “And you bet your ass we’re probably all in some deep shit tomorrow. Except you. Where were you?”

  That was the million dollar question, one I knew I couldn’t answer truthfully. “I was at the dance.”

  When Matt finally stopped laughing, he took a moment to catch his breath. “You seriously went to that crapshoot?”

  I ignored his comment. “Hey, Jenna asked me to--”

  Matt cut me off almost immediately. “You saw Jenna today?”

  “I went to make sure she was okay. Hey, listen.”

  “Listening.”

  “What’s this end of the year project you have planned?”

  Again, Matt laughed. I was beginning to realize that this was his go-to whenever he wanted to get out of answering a question.

  “You’ll find out eventually.” He paused for a moment. “Besides, we’re still in the early stages of planning. I’ve gotta get going, though. Catch you tomorrow?”

  He hung up before I even had the chance to say goodbye.

  My head was reeling. I was glad Jenna was getting the help she needed. Little did she know, getting into rehab was saving her life in more ways than one.

  CHAPTER 15

  Mondays always started with a fresh pot of coffee and an abundance rumors. I wasn’t prepared for how overflowing the latter pot would be when I set foot in homeroom. The morning announcements had been hijacked by Mr. Medina. He was making it known how disappointed he was in the behavior of a few select students over the weekend. He paused for dramatic effect before concluding with, “You know who you are.”

  “Heard that Jenna chick drove drunk and crashed into some of the other kids’ cars at the party.”

  “Jenna,” another voice whispered as if racking his brain trying to come up with exactly who that was.

  “Peach schnapps Jenna,” the first one laughed. “The chick who, since freshman year, or probably since birth actually, would bring a bottle to parties, assemblies, shit, even church, probably.”

  They both snickered as I shot them a look.

  “What’s up, new girl? You condoning the drunk driving of your friend?”

  “First off.” I raised a finger at them, surprised by the confidence that overcame me. “No, I’m not, if that’s even what happened. And you starting rumors makes you no better than the people that Mr. Medina is referencing.”

  The first guy—Zeke, I believed his name was--, fiddled with the brim of his baseball cap before responding. “You’re seriously sticking up for those kids involved? You clearly haven’t been at this school long enough to know exactly who they are.”

  I rolled my eyes and turned back around, refusing to engage any further. I caught Noah looking at me. He immediately put his head down.

  At lunch, he and Alyssa were nowhere to be found. By the time I got to our usual spot, it was taken by other people I didn’t recognize. Mr. Nash wasn’t at the round table either. Chase, who was sitting alone, raised his arm in a half wave, but I kept walking.

  I tossed my peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the trash on my way out of the lunchroom. Food wasn’t allowed in the library, but sitting there without food was better than eating in the bathroom.

  I took a seat right next to the librarian’s desk. She gave me a warm smile.

  With the option of off-campus lunch for seniors, the library was virtually empty at that hour. The librarian was probably happy to have some company for the day.

  “Anything I can help you find?” She leaned over the desk to peer at me.

  I told her “No, thank you” as I pulled out a folder and the Polaroid from Mr. Nash’s class, figuring it was about time I started on it. I propped it open against my backpack, hoping that, if I looked it long enough, some sort of inspiration would strike me.

  I read the words again. “Grief, I’ve learned, is love with no place to go.”

  “It’s definitely a sad quote,” I whispered to myself as I ran my fingers around the edges of the Polaroid, tracing the outlines of the clouds. Since being assigned this purpose, I hadn’t allowed myself to really feel any emotion, so I hoped that this would stir something deep within me. Instead, I felt nothing..

  “Please let me know if I can help at all.” The librarian was staring at me again. She must have been bored. “It’s my second day here, and I’ll be filling in for the next 3 months while Mrs. Spielman is on maternity leave. I’ll take any practice I can get.” Now that I studied her, I could tell that she was definitely younger, almost half the age of any of the other teachers there except for Mr. Nash.

  “Alright, actually, I might need a little help.”

  She leaned forward, her eyes wide, as if I was the first person since she’d been there who has asked her for something. I was nervous as I flipped over the Polaroid, wondering if the magic it possessed would be broken by sharing.

  “Have you met Mr. Nash? The creative writing teacher?” I asked as I slid the picture towards her.

  She studied it for a moment. “No, I don’t think I have. This is a powerful quote, though. What’s it for?”

  “His final project. I have to create something with the quote.”

  “Actually…” She trailed off as she tapped her pen rapidly against the desk. “Actually, this reminds me of someone. Granted, this would be incredibly sad for your project.” She lowered her voice and leaned in. “I used to fill in at the library the next city over a few years back. There was a man who used to come in every day and check ou
t our newspaper articles about his three-year-old daughter who was hit and killed by a drunk driver, and-- I don’t know. I’ve never forgotten his sad green eyes. They looked like sea glass, but instead of washed over with the ocean, it was tears.”

  I nodded, taking back the Polaroid she slid towards me. “Like I said, it depends on what you’re going for. But maybe it’ll help if you connected that quote to something real? I can probably get you the newspaper article on it.”

  “That is sad. Maybe that will help?” I slipped the picture back into my backpack. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go that route, but it might stir something within me. The librarian clicked away at the computer for a few minutes until the printer started whirring.

  “There you are.” She slid a piece of paper towards me, still warm to the touch. I began reading.

  A three-year-old girl is dead and a man is in custody following a two-vehicle crash in Silverton Springs.

  It happened around 5:30 p.m. Thursday, near the intersection of Blaine Street and Roseway Lane.

  According to the Silverton Springs Police Department, a Chevy pickup truck being driven by a thirty-eight-year-old Arvada man blew through a stop sign, striking the side of a vehicle which had the right of way.

  A three-year-old rear passenger of the vehicle was pronounced dead at the scene. The driver, identified as the girl’s mother, was taken to a local hospital for non-life-threatening injuries.

  The driver of the Chevy pickup truck suffered minor injuries and was taken to a local hospital. He was arrested on suspicion of drunk driving. Formal charges are pending with the District Attorney’s Office.

  I knew the bell was going to ring any second. I slipped the article into my backpack and headed towards class after giving the librarian, who now looked incredibly sad, a head nod.

  I made it to Creative Writing seconds before the final bell rang, after realizing I’d forgotten to grab my textbook from my locker. Everyone was already in their seats and Mr. Nash was nowhere to be seen. It was eerily quiet. Matt wasn’t even hovering over my desk with his leg propped on his chair as usual.