A LONE PALM STANDS
H.A. Olsen
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 H.A. Olsen
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Part One
Life is a Beach
CHAPTER ONE
A Bad Moon Risin’
August 22nd, 1989
Something didn’t seem right.
I knew it as soon as I reached the end of the wooden walkway that led from my house to the beach. Before me stretched a wide expanse of sand, bathed in the light of the full moon. Waves rolled against the shore in a soothing rhythm, while crickets chirped a happy serenade in the thicket behind the dunes. And the stars—oh, my God, they never looked so bright and so close, like diamonds I could pluck from the sky and string into a necklace. Simply put, it was the most perfect summer evening imaginable. So why wasn’t anyone around to enjoy it?
A night like this usually brought people by the dozens to the tiny sea island I lived on known as Folly Beach. Some came to take long strolls beside the ocean; others came to make out with their lovers in the sand. But tonight there wasn’t a soul as far as I could see. It was like an evacuation had been ordered and I was the last one to know about it.
“This is freaky, Zeus,” I said to the black lab following at my heels. It was my turn to take him for his evening walk, a chore I normally relished since I loved to roam the open beach and feel the salty breeze in my face. But tonight I wasn’t quite so enthusiastic. In fact, the sight of the deserted shore had me feeling a bit uneasy.
“I don’t know about you, but I don’t think we should stay out here any longer than we have to,” I told Zeus as I hooked a leash to his collar, a necessary precaution since he had a habit of running away. “So no goofing off, you hear? Just do your business and let’s go back inside.”
He cocked his head and whined.
I knelt beside him and stroked the fur along his back. “I’m sorry, but I don’t like the way it looks out here tonight … it’s kinda creepy. Besides, tomorrow’s the first day of school and I’ve got a gazillion things to do to get ready. I’ve got to decide what I’m going to wear. And I’ve still got that summer reading I haven’t finished. And I’ve got to—”
I stopped because I realized how dorky it was to explain all this to a dog. After all, it wasn’t like he was going to have a meaningful conversation with me. Plus, there was a quicker, more efficient way to get him to see things my way—good ol’ fashioned bribery.
I scratched him underneath the chin and said, “Hey, you know that fried chicken Mom fixed tonight? It sure was good. Yum, yum! Bet you’d like some, wouldn’t you?”
He licked his chops and barked.
I stood and kicked off my flip-flops. “Well, if you’ll be a good boy and go potty right away, I’ll sneak you some leftovers from the fridge. I might even throw in a Milk-Bone if you make it super-fast.”
He barked three times and wagged his tail. I figured it was his way of saying, “You’ve got a deal!” Unfortunately, it didn’t take long to find out I was wrong.
Instead of getting down to business, he dragged me around the beach in aimless circles, pausing to sniff every seashell, lump of seaweed, cigarette butt, and dead jellyfish he came across. I even had to convince him not to chew on a dirty diaper he found partially buried in the sand.
“Will you stop farting around?” I cried out in frustration. The words had hardly left my lips when a child’s laughter startled me.
It sounded close; so close the child could have been standing next to me. Yet no one was there.
Goosebumps sprouted on my arms and legs. Without saying a word, I jerked on Zeus’s leash and made tracks for home.
We hadn’t traveled far when I felt the leash stiffen. “Why are you slowing down?” I asked. “C’mon, keep up with me!”
To my dismay, he came to a complete halt.
“Now what?” I moaned.
Zeus sat on his haunches, stared out at the waves shimmering in the moonlight, and whimpered.
“You stupid dog! Get moving!” I gave his leash a mighty tug—at least as mighty as my five-foot-two frame would allow.
He refused to budge.
“Fine! Stay out here on this creepy beach if you want to, but I’m going inside!” I dropped the leash and stomped away.
It only took a few seconds for me to come to my senses. If I left him behind, he’d run away for sure. Dad would blame me for losing his ‘best friend’ and I’d end up on permanent restriction with no chance of parole. It just wasn’t worth it.
I went back and grabbed the leash out of the sand. As I did, a sudden motion caused me to gasp. I felt silly when I realized it was only a fiddler crab scurrying toward the water’s edge.
Zeus saw it, too. I knew it meant trouble because he loved to chase anything smaller than him—especially things with eight legs.
“You leave that crab alone—I mean it!” I told Zeus with narrowed eyes.
For a moment I thought he might actually obey me. But then he lunged forward so quickly and so forcefully that he pulled the leash right out of my hand.
“No! Stop! Pleeeaassee stop!” I cried after him.
He ran faster.
“I’m gonna kill you, Zeus!” I hollered as I took off after him. “I’m gonna send your sorry butt to one of those countries that consider dog meat a delicacy!”
He turned and headed for the dunes. I turned and tried to keep up with him, but my foot got caught on a piece of driftwood and I fell forward. Next thing I knew, I was lying face-down in the sand.
My chin stung, my nose throbbed, and my left knee felt like someone had sliced it with a razor. Worst of all, my mouth was full of gritty sand.
I spat the sand out—at least as much of it as I could—and rolled onto my back. Please God, don’t let it be broken, I prayed as I felt my nose. It was still in one piece, so I let out a sigh of relief. Next, I touched my chin. OUCH! It was big-time tender. No doubt it would turn an ugly shade of black and blue—just in time for the first day of my senior year of high school. Like I really needed another flaw to worry about.
“Okay, so what’s up with my stupid knee?” I wondered aloud as I raised my head.
Crap! Blood was oozing from a cut just below the kneecap; I must have scraped it on a shell when I hit the ground. But that didn’t explain why it felt like it was beginning to swell. I leaned forward to take a closer look, but was overcome by dizziness.
I let my head fall back to the sand and closed my eyes. After waiting a few minutes, I cracked one eyelid open to see if the beach had stopped spinning.
“Excuse me, miss,” a masculine voice called out from behind me.
I bolted upright—something I quickly discovered you shouldn’t do when you’re dizzy. Stars swirled around my head and I felt like I was going to pass out.
“Are you all right, miss?” the voice asked.
I held my head steady until the stars faded, then peered over my shoulder. Everything seemed out of focus, but I could make out the shadowy figure of a man wearing a long flowing coat and a wide-brimmed hat. “May I have a word with you, miss?” he asked as he moved toward me.
“Wha … what do you want?” I said, suddenly wishing I had paid more attention to the self-defense lessons my brother had given me.
“I would like to speak to you about an important matter,” the man said. His accent was strange, one I’d never heard before.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t talk to strangers,” I told him, scrambling to get to my feet.
“I assure you that I’m no stranger, although you may not remember me.”
The pain in my knee doubled as I stood. “You’re right, I don’t remember you. And I don’t have time to talk. My dog got away and I’ve got to go find him.” I staggered backwards, finding it hard to keep my balance.
“Zeus is fine,” he assured me. “He’ll be back soon.”
My jaw dropped. “How … how do you know what my dog’s name is?”
“I know many things about you, my dear. Like I said, I am no stranger.”
“Well, how come you know me but I don’t know you?”
“It’s better that way. But that’s not important right now. What is important is the message I have been sent to deliver.”
I tried to make out his facial features, but they seemed foggy and indistinguishable, like your image does when you peer into a steamed-up mirror.
“Please take what I’m about to tell you seriously,” the man implored. “A terrible storm will soon ravish the coast of South Carolina; a storm that will do horrific damage to this little island you call Folly. You must leave in order to be safe.”
“A storm?” I raised my eyes skyward and let out a nervous laugh. “There’s not even a cloud in the sky, so I think your forecast is a little off.” Just like you, I couldn’t help but think.
“It will not occur tonight, my dear,” he said steadily, “but precious little time remains before it does.”
I continued to back away from him. “Look, mister, I don’t mean to offend you or anything, but I think you’re a little weird. So if you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk to you anymore.” I turned and limped away.
“Angela, please stop,” he called after me.
I froze. “How … how do you know my name?”
“As I said, I know everything about you … even the secret you keep from everyone.”
I turned to face him. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the secret you keep locked inside your wicker chest.”
His words stunned me. No one—and I mean no one—knew what was inside that wicker chest but me. “You’ve never been in my room before,” I said, “so how could you possibly know about—”
“It’s not important how I know,” he interrupted. “The important thing is the gift you have. It is meant to be shared with the world, not hidden from it. But you must heed my warning in order for that to occur.”
My forehead crumpled in confusion. “Gift? What gift?”
He was about to speak when a child’s laughter rang out—the same laughter I’d heard earlier.
The man pointed behind me. “Her name is Sara. She’s the one who asked me to warn you about the storm.”
I turned toward the dunes. Standing next to a palmetto tree was a little girl who looked to be about six-years-old. Her hair was blonde and shoulder length, just like mine. Tucked behind her left ear was a bright yellow sunflower that matched the ones embroidered on her white sundress. And her skin—oh, my God! Was it my imagination or was it really glowing?
“She’s so beautiful. She looks like an angel,” I whispered in awe. Tears welled in my eyes from an overwhelming joy I had never known before. I wanted to run to her, throw my arms around her and embrace her. But my feet wouldn’t move. It was as if they were glued to the sand.
“Sara is very special,” the man told me in a soothing voice. “She is as close to your heart as another soul can possibly be. Often you’ve heard her whispers in your dreams. Her destiny, as well as yours, depends on you heeding my warning.”
“I … I don’t understand,” I said.
“I don’t expect you to understand … not now. But you will in time.”
The little girl blew me a kiss. Then she faded into a wispy vapor.
I turned to speak to the man. He, too, was gone.
I spun in a complete circle to look for him. That’s when I saw Zeus galloping toward me. He jumped up on me and planted his paws on my shoulders, almost knocking me backwards.
“Get off!” I shouted. I pushed him away and looked again for the man and the little girl.
They were nowhere to be found.
I lowered myself to the sand and sat with my knees drawn to my chest. What just happened? I wondered. Did I just see couple of ghosts? And why did I feel so drawn to that little girl? And what was all that mumbo-jumbo about a storm coming?
I shook my head, upset with myself for even entertaining the thought that I had seen ghosts. There had to be a more logical explanation. I just had to figure out what it was.
I gave it some thought and came to the conclusion that my ‘apparitions’ were hallucinations caused from me bumping my head when I fell. Maybe I’d gotten one of those concussion thingys or something. After all, Dad once told me that you didn’t have to hit your head hard to get one; you just had to hit it in the right place. So maybe I’d hit mine in the right place and that’s what caused me to see things that weren’t there. Of course, it didn’t explain why I’d heard a child’s laughter before I fell. But I chose to ignore that little inconsistency in my theory for the time being.
Zeus licked the blood that was beginning to dry on my knee. “Quit it!” I snapped. “You’ll give me dog germs!”
He whimpered, pulled his ears back, and stared at me with those dark, soulful eyes of his. “Some watch dog you are,” I grumbled. “If that man had been real, he could have killed me while you ran around on the beach.” I stood and brushed the sand off the back of my shorts. “C’mon, boy, let’s go … I’ve got an awful headache. I need to OD on Advil.”
This time he followed me without resistance. Just before we reached the walkway leading to the house, I took one last look at the empty beach from over my shoulder.
What I saw caused my heart to skip a beat.
There, by the edge of the sea, stood the little girl. She blew me a kiss and curtseyed, then vanished from sight.
“Sisters,” I heard her tiny voice whisper on the wind. “Remember, sisters are forever.”
I shivered from the chill rushing down my spine and ran the rest of the way home.
CHAPTER TWO
Bring on the Day
Trying to sleep that night was an exercise in futility. My mind kept replaying images of the little girl I’d seen on the beach over and over again, like a slideshow stuck in an endless loop. Finally, around four A.M., the images faded and I dozed off, only to find myself in a weird dream where I was lying in a field of bright yellow sunflowers. That part was nice, but when I looked up at the sky I discovered it was covered with blood-stained clouds. Things got really freaky when salty human tears began to fall from them. I was running for shelter when I heard a voice say, “Sweetie, do you know what time it is?”
My eyes fluttered open. It was Mom. She had a concerned look on her face that I didn’t understand.
I pulled the covers over my head. “I don’t want to get up yet,” I said groggily. “Please let me sleep for another hour or so, okay?”
She jerked the covers away. “You might want to rethink that, unless you’re planning on missing the first day of school!”
I shot straight up. “Omigod! What time is it?” Before Mom had a chance to answer, I looked at the digits on my alarm clock. It was seven A.M.—thirty minutes later than I had set it for.
“What’s wrong with that stupid thing?” I said, swinging my legs to the floor. “Why didn’t it go off when it was supposed to?”
“Beats me,” Mom said with a shrug. I noticed she was holding the cordless phone we normally kept in the kitchen. She handed it to me and said, “Here … you better thank Suzanne for calling to check up on you. Otherwise, I would have never known you were still asleep.”
I brought the phone to my lips and said hello.
“Holy crap! Are you just getting up?” Suzanne blasted, her voice so loud that I had to hold the phone away from my ear. “Didn’t you hear the freakin’ phone in your room ring?”
“No, I guess I—”
“You realize I’m halfway to your house, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but—”
“You better hustle if you want me to get your ass to school on time!”
“I know, I know.” I cradled the phone on my shoulder and hurried over to my dresser to grab a bra and a pair of panties.
Mom followed me. I wondered why until I saw her gawking at my leg. “How in the world did you hurt yourself?” she wanted to know.
I looked down at my black-and-blue knee, exposed by my short pajamas. “Um, I sorta fell on the beach last night,” I told her, hoping she would leave it at that.
“You what?” Suzanne asked. There was a burst of static on the phone.
“I’m not talking to you, I’m talking to Mom,” I explained.
“You’re so accident prone,” Mom said, shaking her head. “Sometimes I’m scared for you to leave the house.”
I went over to my closet to get a pair of jeans and my favorite tank top, the one with the red-and-white stripes. Mom followed right behind me. “You’ve got a bruise on your chin.” she observed. “Did you hit your face when you fell?”
“Yeah, sorta,” I admitted.
“Huh?” Suzanne said.
I rolled my eyes; trying to carry on two conversations at the same time was driving me nuts. “Where are you?” I asked Suzanne.
There was another burst of static. “I’m almost … just … I …”
“What? I can’t hear you?”
“Argh! I can’t stand this stupid cell phone, it’s a piece of crap! I said I’m on Folly Road, so I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Well, you might as well slow down ‘cause I’ve still got to take a shower,” I let her know.
She laughed. “Me, slow down? You’ve got to be kidding! I’ll just wait for you on your front steps until you come outside. I like to sit there and see how many cute guys I can get to blow their horns and wave at me as they go by. You ought to try it sometime. I’m telling ya, that beach you live on is full of hunky—”
“Okay, I gotta go now.” I clicked the phone off before she said anything else that would embarrass me in front of Mom, who couldn’t help but overhear her.
Sure enough, Mom cocked an eyebrow and said, “So she sits on the front steps and trolls for guys, huh? And you wonder why I don’t like that girl?”
“Oh, she’s just kidding around,” I said, handing the phone back to her. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
Mom peered into the mirror above my dresser. She ran her fingers through her tangled sandy hair, tightened the sash of her pink cotton robe, frowned, and said, “Don’t tell me not to make a big deal out of it. That girl is nothing but a bad influence on you. I wish to God your daddy had never invited her to that party.”
She was referring to the birthday party Dad had for me a few years ago when I turned fifteen. A couple of my friends from school came to it, but it was really just an excuse for him to have an oyster roast and have his buddies come over to drink beer. Anyway, this lady showed up who was the broker of the real estate company Dad worked for, and she brought her daughter along who was the same age as me. The daughter, of course, was none other than Suzanne.
At first, I couldn’t stand her. I thought she was a self-centered, spoiled rotten, conceited, loud-mouthed pain in the ass who talked endlessly about how many beauty contests she had won, how many talent shows she had been in, and how she was going to be the world’s greatest actress some day. I tried to give her the cold shoulder, but she kept coming over to my house and spending more and more time with me. Then something weird happened—I actually began to like her. But it didn’t change the fact that she was a self-centered, spoiled rotten, conceited, loud-mouthed pain in the … well, you-know-what.
After muttering a few more derogatory comments about Suzanne, Mom left to make breakfast, and I hurried down the hall to the bathroom to take a shower. I couldn’t help but smile as I passed my sister’s old room along the way. It was so wonderful to have her out of my life. She, like my older brother who was her twin, had decided to go straight to work after high school instead of attending college. Watching those two get cruddy, low-paying jobs gave me plenty of motivation to continue my education. But it wasn’t going to be easy. Mom and Dad were broke and could hardly pay the bills, so I was going to have to take out student loans and live on Beanie Weenies and Ramen soup for four years of my life. But that was okay, ‘cause I was determined to make something of myself, and nothing—I mean nothing—was going to stand in my way.
I reached for the knob to open the bathroom door but found it locked. Crap, I thought, I must have accidently locked it after I brushed my teeth last night. Now I was going to have to get Dad to jimmy it open for me.
I was about to go get him, but came to a halt when I heard the toilet flush. Unless we had ghosts with bladders, someone was using my bathroom. But who could it be?
I knocked on the door to find out.
No answer.
I banged again, harder this time.
“What do you want?” my sister’s husky voice called out from the other side.
A wave of panic hit me like a tsunami. “Aubry? What are you doing home?” I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to like the answer.
“None of your business!” she shouted back. “Now leave me alone and let me take my shower!”
“No!” I yelled. “I’ve got to get ready for school! Can’t you take yours later?”
“No! Wait your friggin’ turn!”
I stomped my foot. “Aubry, this isn’t fair! You shouldn’t even be here!”
“Stop bitchin’! You should’ve got up earlier if you’re so worried about getting to school on time!” Our antiquated pipes creaked and moaned as she started the shower.
I slumped to the floor with my back against the door, knowing there was no use in arguing with her. As the precious moments ticked by, I wondered why she was home, hoping it wasn’t because she’d been kicked out of her apartment and needed a place to stay.
After a reasonable amount of time had passed, I shouted, “Aubry, pleassseee hurry up! It’s the first day of my senior year, for crying out loud! I don’t want to be late!”
The shower stopped. It took forever for the door to open. When it finally did, my sister emerged in a cloud of steam, wearing a white bathrobe and a towel wrapped around her head. “All yours,” she said with a smirk as she brushed past me.
I watched her swagger down the hall toward her old room. Judging by the width of her butt, she had put on a few pounds since the last time I’d seen her. Guess she had given up on her Weight Watchers diet. No big surprise there, since Aubry didn’t have much in the way of willpower.
“So why are you here?” I asked her.
She looked over her shoulder. “It’s a long story,” she said with a sigh. “But you’re running late and don’t have time to hear about my problems, so I guess I’ll have to tell you later.”
“You’re not planning on moving back here, are you?” Oh, please, God, let her say no, I prayed.
“As a matter of fact, I am,” she said with a sly grin. “I know you’re thrilled to hear that, aren’t you? It’ll be like old times—except for one difference.”
My heart sank like a rock tossed into a creek. “What difference?” I asked warily.
Aubry smiled crookedly. “Like I said, you don’t have time to hear about it now.” She turned the knob to go inside her room. “I don’t want to make you late for school.”
“Aubry, wait!” I begged. “Just give me the Cliff’s Notes version of what’s going on, okay?”
She waddled back toward me. “All right, sis, if you insist. I guess one way I can break the news to you is by asking you a question.” She paused dramatically, then said, “How do you think you’ll like being called Aunt Angela?”
I stood there perplexed for a moment. Then my mouth flew open. “Omigod, don’t tell me you’re pregnant!” I gasped.
“Okay, I won’t tell you I’m pregnant … but I am.” She grinned like she was proud of it.
I felt like I was going to hyperventilate. “Holy crap, Aubry, how’d that happen?”
She rolled her almond eyes. “Jesus, sis, I thought even you blondes had that one figured out by now.”
I glared at her. “You know what I mean, smartass!”
She moved closer to me and whispered, “Don’t tell anyone this, but I’m not sure who the father is. I hope it’s the dude I really like, but he got arrested for possession of cocaine last week.”
I could only stare at her, dumbfounded. When I found my voice again, I said, “Does Mom and Dad know about this?
She shrugged. “Yeah, they weren’t too happy about it, but they said I could stay here as long as I want. They know I’m going to need all the help I can get … especially since I’m having twins.”
“Twi … twi … twi ...” The ‘T’ word stuck in my throat like the rock-hard biscuits Mom served every Sunday at dinner.
Aubry grinned.”Yeah, twins—just like me and Jim. Isn’t that cool? So I’m gonna need you to help me as much as you can after they’re born.”
I felt like I was going to faint. I sank to the floor and hid my face in my hands.
“Don’t you need take your shower?” Aubry asked, kneeling next to me. “Weren’t you worried about being late?”
“Yeah, but I need a minute to digest this,” I said, fighting back the tears that were beginning to gather in the corners of my eyes.
She put her arm around me. “I’m sorry to drop all this on you, little sis. I know how shocked you must be. But maybe my little situation will bring us closer together.”
She had to be possessed. There was no other explanation for why my sister would want to be close to me; it simply wasn’t in her genes.
“Thanks for listening to my problems,” she said, patting my back. “It’s such a comfort to have someone like you to lean on. But can I ask you something?”
“I guess,” I said, still wondering why she was being so nice to me all of a sudden.
“Well, how much time do you think you just wasted talking to me about all this? Guess you’re going to be really late getting to school now, aren’t you?” She flashed an evil smile; one that let me know she was gloating over the cruel trick she’d just played on me.
“Damn you, Aubry Jenkins!” I cried, jumping to my feet. “You’ve been feeding me a bunch of bull haven’t you? You made up all that crap about being pregnant just so you could make me good and late, didn’t you?”
She stood and laughed wickedly. “Finally figured that out, huh? Of course, I should have given you a handicap for being blonde, but I really didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to fall for it.”
My blood boiled. “I hate you! Why did you come back here to torture me?”
“I only came here to take a shower, so chill out. My apartment got bombed this morning for fleas and I had to leave. That’s why I came here to get ready for work.”
I got right in her face. “So you have fleas now, Aubry? Are they keeping the lice in your hair company? Maybe you ought to try Zeus’s dog shampoo … maybe it’ll help you with your mangy skin, too!”
She raised her hands like she was going to choke me. I darted inside the bathroom and locked the door.
“You little chicken-shit!” she yelled. “You just wait … I’ll get you! You know I always get even!”
“Kiss my ass!” It was easy to be bold when several inches of wood stood between us.
While she rattled off a bunch of obscenities, I slipped out of my PJ’s, then pulled back the shower curtain and adjusted the knobs to the setting I knew would give me a nice hot spray. I stepped inside and …
“Ohhhhhhhhh myyyyyyyyyyyy gaaaaawwwwwwddddddd!” It felt like icicles were pelting my bare skin. My sister had used every drop of hot water and left me with none—intentionally, no doubt.
“Aubry, I’m going to kill you!” I hollered.
Freezing water or not, I had to wash my greasy hair. So I grit my chattering teeth and grabbed a bottle of Breck from the shower caddy. Holding it above my head, I gave the bottle a squeeze and waited for the luxurious lather to flow over my scalp.
Except nothing came out.
“What the heck?” I held the bottle at eye level and inspected it. It should have been nearly full, but it was empty. My sister had screwed me again.
“Aubry, I hate you!” I screamed.
With a towel wrapped around my frost-bitten body, I flew downstairs to get a bottle of shampoo from Mom’s bathroom. I was hoping to avoid her, but she spotted me from the open kitchen just as I reached the bottom step.
“Honey, are you going to eat some breakfast?” she asked.
I stopped long enough to answer her. “No, Mom, I need to borrow your shampoo.”
“Why do you need to do that? Didn’t you just buy some a few days ago? Are you lathering twice like it says on the label? Cause if you are, you’re wasting it. You only need to lather once—that’s plenty. They just tell you to lather twice so you’ll use more of their product and have to buy a new bottle every time you turn around.”
I sighed. “I only lather once, Mom. I think Aubry poured it down the drain to be mean to me.”
“Oh, nonsense, your sister would never do anything like that. She’s a grown woman now; she doesn’t do childish things like pour bottles of shampoo down the drain. You should stop blaming her and fess up that you’ve been lathering twice.”
I didn’t have time to argue, so I said, “Okay, I lather twice, Mom. Now may I please borrow your shampoo?”
“Go ahead, but use it sparingly. Pour a little bit into the palm of your hand—don’t just dump it all over your head like I know you do.”
I ran for her bathroom and found a bottle of Alberto VO5 with aloe. On the way back, I swished past Dad who was sitting on the sofa, reading the newspaper. “Hey, hon,” he said with a wink. He glanced at the towel wrapped around me and said, “You know, I don’t think they’re going to let you go to school wearing that toga.”
I tightened the towel around me. “Very funny, Dad.”
“So are you going to get something to eat?” Mom called out from her post at the stove. “I’ve got eggs and bacon ready. I made them easy over, just the way you like them.”
“You mean over easy, don’t you Mish?” Dad said with a chuckle.
“Oh, whatever. Do you want me to fix you a plate, Angela?”
I started up the stairs. “No, ma’am, I’m running really, really late. And I’ve got to finish taking my shower.”
“Well, come down and get some when you finish.”
“I won’t have time, Mom. Suzanne’s probably already here. I’ve got to hustle.”
“Fine then. If you want to end up barefoot and pregnant, go right ahead.”
I stopped halfway up the stairs, puzzled by her comment. “What did you just say?”
Mom came to the foot of the stairs and looked up at me. “I said you’re going to end up barefoot and pregnant. Without food in your stomach, you’re not going to be able to focus in school. And if you can’t focus, you won’t get good grades. And if you don’t get good grades, you’re not going to be able to get into college. And if you don’t get into college, you’re going to have to find some lousy job and make minimum wage like your brother and sister. Then you’ll have to find a husband to support you and you’ll start pumping out the babies. That’s what I mean by you getting barefoot and pregnant.”
Only my mother could string that many unrelated things together and come up with such a ridiculous conclusion. “Okayyy, I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, and turned to scurry up the rest of the stairs.
Once again, I froze my buns off in the shower, then set a new world record for drying hair, putting on makeup, and getting dressed. I was still running late, though, and it was going to take a miracle for me to get to school before the tardy bell rang. But at least I had one thing going for me: Suzanne. If anyone could get me there on time, it was her.
I raced downstairs, but remembered I didn’t have my bookbag, so I had to go all the way back up to my room to get it. Then I flew downstairs again. I was moving so fast when I reached the kitchen that my wake caused Mom’s hair to fly off her shoulders.
“So what did you decide to eat?” she asked.
“I’m getting something out the fridge,” I said, throwing its door open and taking a peek inside.
“So I wasted all this food that I cooked?”
“Just give it to Aubry, Mom. I’m sure she’ll eat it all and ask you to cook some more.”
“What are you going to get out of the refrigerator? There’s hardly anything in there but your daddy’s beer.”
I grabbed a can of Diet Coke and held it up for her to see. “This will do,” I said.
“Angela Jenkins! You drink too much of that stuff! It’s going to give you cancer! I read the other day that—”
“Gotta go,” I said, cutting her off. “Bye, Dad, I love you. Bye, Mom, I love you.”
Before they could say anything else, I was out the door, ready to begin another fun-filled, exciting year of high school.
Yeah, right.
CHAPTER THREE
Suzanne’s Fresh Catch of the Day
I’ll let you in on a little secret: when I told Mom that Suzanne was only kidding about getting guys to honk and wave at her while she sat on our front steps, it was a lie. She really did like to see how many guys she could get to honk and wave. It was like a game to her, and once in a while she scored big by getting one of them to stop and talk to her.
This morning it looked like she had done just that, ‘cause there was some dude I’d never seen before sitting next to her on the bottom step, gazing deeply into her eyes.
“About time you got down here!” Suzanne said, too busy returning the guy’s gaze to look up at me. “I was about to send a search party out to find you. What took you so long?”
“Sorry you had to wait,” I said. “I had an unexpected encounter with my sister.”
That got her attention. She shot a curious glance at me and said, “You mean the wicked bitch of the beach? What’s she doing home?”
“Fleas,” I replied.
“Say what?”
“She had her apartment bombed for fleas and had to take a shower here,” I explained. “She hogged the bathroom… that’s why I’m late.”
“Hog is right!” Suzanne said with a boisterous laugh. “It’s a wonder she can even fit into the shower with that fat ass of hers!” She made an oinking sound like a pig.
Oddly enough, I found myself bristling at her remark. It was one thing for me to say mean things about my sister’s weight, but I didn’t like for other people to make fun of her. I guess deep down inside there was a part of me that felt sorry for her and wanted to protect her. Don’t ask me why.
“We better get going,” I told Suzanne. “I don’t want to be late.”
She stood, and so did the guy. He looked to be about twenty or twenty-one, and although he wasn’t bad-looking, he reminded me of a grungy rock star with his long raven hair pulled back into a ponytail and the week’s worth of stubble on his face. Not to mention the tattered and torn jeans he wore and the black sleeveless T-shirt that showed off tattoos on both arms.
“I guess I ought to introduce you two to each other,” Suzanne said. “Randy, this is my best friend, A.J. A.J., this is Randy, he just moved here from Virginia.”
I winced when she said ‘A.J.’ Calling me by my initials was something she had done since the first day we met, despite my protest. I thought it sounded more like a boy’s nickname than a girl’s. But she thought it sounded cool and matched my personality better than Angela—whatever that was supposed to mean.
Randy gave me a quick nod and said, “Nice to meet you, A.J.” Then he went back to what he had been doing all along—ogling Suzanne. Not that it surprised me, since most guys couldn’t keep their eyes off of her and had to wipe the drool from their chins whenever she was around. And who could blame them? Blessed with her mother’s Celtic good looks, she was a genuine knockout with her waist-length burgundy hair and gorgeous emerald green eyes. Not to mention a perfect set of boobs that made mine look like mosquito welts. With all that going for her there was no way a guy was going to pay attention to a flat-chested, plain-faced girl like me. So I was used to being ignored whenever she was around.
“I guess I better get A.J. to school,” Suzanne told Randy. “But I’d love to hear more about your band. Why don’t you call me sometime?”
“Sure,” he said, staring at Suzanne’s cleavage that was on full display, courtesy of the low-cut tank top she wore. “What’s your number?”
She reached into the pocket of her short-shorts and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “It’s my stationery,” she said, handing it to him. “It’s got my number printed on it and my address.”
Randy unfolded the paper and gave it a once-over. He then let out a long whistle and said, “Wow, you really live on Tradd Street? Man, you must be rich!”
His reaction was understandable. Although Tradd Street was only a fifteen minute drive from my hometown of Folly Beach, it was a world apart. Located in the historic district of Charleston, it boasted mansions that dated back to the 1600’s. Mansions that were worth millions, which meant only the wealthiest of families could afford to live there.
“You ought to come by and see my house,” Suzanne told Randy with a flirty grin. “It’s in the National Register of Historic Places. I’ll give you the grand tour. Maybe you’ll even get a chance to meet our resident ghost.”
Ghost. The word brought back memories of what had happened on the beach last night—memories I wanted desperately to forget.
“Cool, I’d love to see it,” Randy said. “When would you like me to come over?”
Okay, enough was enough. They could chat all day, but I had to get to school. I cleared my throat and said, “Um, guys, do you think you could talk about this later? I’m sorta running really, really late here.”
Suzanne waved me off. “Oh, stop worrying, I’ll get you there on time.” She turned to Randy and said, “I guess I gotta split before A.J. has a hissy-fit. Call me tonight and we’ll talk some more.”
“Okay, I’ll give you a call this evening.” He smiled broadly, which showed off his bright and perfectly straight teeth. No doubt his parents had spent a fortune at the orthodontist. Too bad my parents couldn’t have done the same for me.
“Okay, so can we go now?” I asked Suzanne, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her toward her car.
“Bye, Randy,” she said, stumbling to keep up with me. “Glad I got to meet you.”
“Same here,” he said. “And it was nice to meet you, too, C.J.”
“It’s A.J. not C.J.,” Suzanne said, looking back at him as I continued to pull her away.
“Oh, sorry. It was nice to meet you, A.J.,” he said with a chuckle.
I wanted to say, “Nice meeting you too, loser,” but decided it was better not to say anything at all.
When we reached her car, I released my grip on Suzanne and did something that I’d learned to do before I got in—bless myself. That’s because I knew I was in for a ride that would have Richard Petty reaching for a couple of valiums and chasing them down with a shot of tequila.
That is, if he didn’t die from heart failure first.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lil’ Red Corvette
Suzanne’s car was a lot like her—sexy, fast, and high-maintenance. It was a gorgeous red Corvette convertible that her parents had bought her for her sixteenth birthday, and it was loaded with every upgrade, luxury feature, and ‘wow’ item you could imagine. In a word, it was sweet.
So you would think that riding with her in such a cool set of wheels would be fun and exciting, right?
Wrong.
It was terrifying. That’s because Suzanne considered speed limits, right-of-ways, stop lights, and yield signs as mere suggestions; things she obeyed solely at her discretion. And when she was in a hurry—like she was to get me to school—her driving went from dangerous to downright reckless.
So why did I risk my life by riding with her? The answer can be summed up in two little words: school bus.
Without a car of my own and parents who refused to drive in rush hour traffic, the bus was the only mode of transportation available to me. And if you’ve ever ridden in a hot, cramped bus full of goofy freshmen acting like a bunch of morons, then you can understand why I—a mature, sensible seventeen-year-old—would do anything to avoid the embarrassment of being seen with such lowlife. So I was only too happy to accept Suzanne’s generous offer to give me a ride, although I was fully aware that I was gambling with my life to do so.
I refer to it as a ‘generous offer’ because the all-girl private school Suzanne attended, Ashley Hall, didn’t begin classes for another week, which meant she could have been snoozing the morning away instead of hauling my sorry butt around. But she had insisted on doing it, saying that no friend of hers was going to be found on a stinkin’ yellow school bus. In fact, she’d promised to take me to school and back home every day, even after her classes began. So how could I complain about her kamikaze driving when she went out of her way to help me out like that? I just had to make sure to bring along an extra pair of panties in case she scared the you-know-what out of me, like she was doing now in her race to get me to school.
“Jesus, Suzanne, If you don’t slow down you’re gonna get a ticket for sure!” I shouted over Madonna’s Respect Yourself blearing through the Corvette’s custom speakers. “I’ll never get to school on time if you get stopped!”
“Oh, stop worrying,” she said with a smug grin. “I never see cops around here in the morning. Besides, if one did stop me, you know I could easily flirt my way out of it.”
She had a point. I’d seen her use her looks and charms to get out of a ticket many times in the past. And if that didn’t work, she simply mentioned the fact that her father was Julius Richardson, who just so happened to be a circuit court judge for the county of Charleston.
“I just wish you’d slow down,” I said as she weaved in and out of traffic. “I’d like to get to school in one piece, you know.”
A gust of wind blasted through the open convertible, causing her hair to fly into her face. As she swatted at the wayward strands, she asked, “So what did you think about Randy? Don’t you think he’s a hunk?”
I couldn’t help but snicker. “Yeah, I guess he’s a hunk if you’re into the scrungy, I-haven’t-taken-a-bath-in-two-weeks look.”
Suzanne looked genuinely surprised. “Oh, you’re terrible! No, I take that back—you’re pitiful! You don’t know hot when you see it, girl! I was ready to jump his bones right there in your front yard!”
“Where did he come from anyway?” I said, hoping to steer the conversation from bone-jumping to something less risqué.
She turned down the radio; I guess she didn’t want it competing with the story she was about to tell. “Well, it happened like this,” she began. “I was sitting there on your steps, minding my own business, when he drove by real slow on his motorcycle—you know, kinda scoping me out. He went on down the street, but then he came back and stopped to ask me some questions about my car. He said he was thinking about buying a Corvette and wanted to know where I got mine. I knew it was just an excuse to meet me, which I thought was really sweet. Anyway, we got to talking, and I found out he just moved here from Virginia Beach with his dad. He used to have his own rock band there, and now he wants to put one together here in Charleston. So I told him I was an awesome singer and asked him if he’d like for me to give him an audition.”
I closed my eyes tightly as she whipped into the oncoming lane to pass a mini-van that had the audacity to do the speed limit. Wondering if they might be the last words I spoke before I died, I asked, “So what did he say?”
“He told me he wasn’t looking for a female vocalist. So I told him he was making a huge mistake, since I’m scheduled to go on national television and appear on Star Search. I told him talent scouts would be snapping me up after they see me on there, so he better hurry up and let me sing in his band before I become famous and move to Hollywood.”
I shook my head in confusion. “What are you talking about, Suzanne? Since when did you get invited to go on Star Search? Don’t you have to send them a tape of yourself and stuff like that first?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I was thinking about making a tape next month. Maybe you can help me pick a song that really shows off my talent.”
“But didn’t you just say you were already scheduled to go on the show?”
“No, I said I told Randy I was scheduled to go on the show. That doesn’t mean I really am, dummy.”
“So you lied to him?”
She shrugged. “Not really. I was just fast-forwarding the truth a little, that’s all. I know when I send my demo in that I’ll get picked to go on the show … there’s no way they’re gonna turn down someone as talented as me. So I was just telling a truth that hasn’t become the truth yet. That’s not the same thing as a lie.”
My eyes crossed from trying to follow her logic. “Okay, I’m gonna pretend for a second that what you just said makes sense. But I still don’t get why you told Randy you were going on Star Search in the first place?”
“So he would think I was good enough to join his band, dummy. I figured if he thought I was good enough for Star Search, I’d be good enough for him.”
“Well, I think that’s stupid. And I think you ought to stay away from that guy … he looks like a big loser to me. And he’s way too old for you.” I realized I sounded just like my mother. I made a mental note to never do that again.
“Loser?” Suzanne shot back. “Are you shitting me? I bet he’s hot as hell when he’s on the stage playing the guitar. Just thinking about it makes me horny.”
“I wish you’d keep that to yourself,” I muttered.
She giggled. “What’s wrong? You still hung up about talking about sex? Speaking of which, have you and Michael done it yet?”
Michael was my boyfriend, with emphasis on the word was. Suzanne didn’t know it, but I’d dumped him a few days ago. Telling her about it wasn’t going to be easy, so I’d been keeping it a secret. But now it looked like I was going to have to let the proverbial cat out of its bag.
“I assume by your silence that the answer is no,” she said, shaking her head in disapproval. “So what are you waiting for? He’s cute, he’s rich, he drives a sports car, he’s got a nice boat, and he’s crazy about you. So why don’t you do the both of you a favor and go to bed with him?”
My cheeks burned. It wasn’t because she was talking so frankly about sex, it was because I felt so guilty for breaking up with Michael. He’d looked so pitiful when I’d told him it was over. He even cried. Why oh why did I let things get so out of hand with him? Why didn’t I say something sooner before—
“Yo! A.J., you’re spacing out on me over there,” Suzanne said. She slid her Foster Grants down her nose to get a better look at me. “Hey, what’s up with you? Why are you blushing? Is there something going on I don’t know about?”
I looked away from her and shrugged.
“C’mon, A.J., I’m your best frickin’ friend! You’re supposed to confide in me. So start confiding, dammit!”
I drew a deep breath to steady myself. “Okay, if you really want to know, it’s like this—” I closed my eyes and blurted out, “Michael and I sorta broke up.”
I opened my eyes to find the Corvette swerving into the next lane. I watched in horror as the distance between us and an armored car shrank to dangerous proportions. Oblivious to the accident she was about to cause, Suzanne said, “I can’t believe you! What did you do to make him dump you?”
“Suzanne! Watch out!” I yelled. We came within inches of the armored car before she jerked the car back into her lane.
“So?” she asked as if nothing had happened. “What did you do to make him dump you?”
My heart was racing from our near miss and my breaths were coming in pants. Perhaps I should seriously consider taking the bus from now on.
“Hey, I asked you a question,” Suzanne said. “Are you going to answer me?”
“I didn’t do anything to make him dump me … I’m the one who said we should break up,” I explained.
“Why would you do something stupid like that?” she asked.
“Well, he was getting too serious,” I said, still trying to catch my breath. “He told me he loved me and stuff like that. He even started to talk about marriage.”
She shook her head. “All I know is I hooked you up with an awesome guy, and what do you do? Go and dump him!”
“But he—”
“I bet you broke his heart!” she interrupted. “And I bet there’s more to this than what you’re telling me!” She paused, then declared, “I know what really happened! He wanted you to go all the way, but you were too chicken-shit to do it. Am I right?”
“No, that’s not it at all.”
“Yes it is,” she insisted. “You guys have been together for how long now?”
“Three months,” I answered, wondering where she was going with this.
“Okay, here’s the deal. After three months, a guy expects his woman to do more than just fool around. If you would have just given him what he wanted, I bet you’d still be together.”
“We didn’t break up because of sex,” I said. “You might think the whole world revolves around it, but other people don’t think about it twenty-four-seven like you do.”
“Ha! Everyone thinks about sex all the time. I’m just more vocal about it than other people because I’m not all hung up about it like you are. And I know damn good and well you were too chicken-shit to do it with Michael and that’s why he split.”
I threw my hands up in frustration. “How many times do I have to tell you? He didn’t break up with me … I broke up with him!”
“Well, if you ask me—” She stopped in mid-sentence, her eyes suddenly fixed on the rear view mirror. “Um, it looks like we might have to make a little pit stop,” she said with a frown. “I think one of Charleston County’s finest wants to have a word with me.”
I jerked my head around and saw a cruiser on our tail with its blue lights flashing.
I slouched low in my seat, fighting the urge to burst into tears. There was no way Suzanne was going to get me to school on time now. And that meant I was going to have to walk into Mrs. Evans’s class while all my classmates stared at me. Just the thought of it was enough to cause my stomach to cramp.
“Okay, just stay quiet and let me do the talking,” Suzanne said, pulling into the parking lot of a Zippy Mart. She reached into her purse and pulled out her driver’s license. “I’ll have this cop eating out of my hands in no time.”
“Well, whatever you’re planning on doing, do it quick.” I said. “I’ve got five minutes before the first bell rings.”
“No problemeno,” she said, using the rear view mirror to check her appearance. She was running her fingers through her hair, trying to get her windblown tresses back into place, when her face suddenly lost its color. “Oh, shit,” she gasped. “Looks like flirting is out. I’m gonna have to go with plan ‘B.’”
I glanced in the side view mirror and saw what she did: a short, stout woman in a deputy’s uniform getting out of the cruiser. And she didn’t look she was in a particularly good mood, either.
“This sucks,” Suzanne whispered. “This really, really sucks.” She turned to me and said, “I don’t have time to explain, but I want you to act like you’re scared shitless.”
“What?”
“Just do as I say!”
Before I could respond, the deputy strolled up to Suzanne’s door and asked for her license and registration.
“Oh, thank God you’re here!” Suzanne exclaimed in an exaggerated Scarlet O’ Hara accent. “I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t got behind us when you did!”
The deputy regarded her curiously. “Miss, I don’t know what you’re talking about. All I know is you’ve been driving recklessly and going twenty miles an hour over the speed limit. You’re going to be lucky if you have any points left on your license when I get through with you.”