Ten
Skye
Fifteen years old
Ihad outgrown my bike, so I was having to sneak into Hunter’s yard one Saturday afternoon to take his. He assured me it was there any time I needed it.
The mobile home he lived in was quiet, its white walls worn and aging, the yard overgrown and littered with prehistoric stuff. I never liked coming to Hunter’s home because of how eerie it felt. It didn’t help I knew how sadistic and horrible his old man was, but Mr Dawes wasn’t around anymore (he had walked out on them the summer we kissed), which had been good for Hunter.
I found the black bike leaning against the side of the home. I tied my long hair back, then I tightened the straps of my backpack, filled with snacks and change of clothes. There was a black skirt in there I bought at a cute shop a few weeks ago that would have had my head rolling off my body if Kurt saw me in it. He was an overprotective ass, but I loved him for it. I would compliment the skirt with a white, tight blouse, and I couldn’t wait for everyone to see me in it. I was getting close to making actual friends and not just acquaintances; building an image that wasn’t tainted by my closeness to Hunter and Leo was hard work.
I needed to look good for this party. It was at a house that a boy I barely spoke to lived in. His name was Greg, he was our age, built, good looking, on the same swim team as Leo. Good friends with Leo, too. Everyone that mattered at school was going to be there.
The autumn breeze was in full force as I threw my body over the bike and rode down the path that snaked out of the trailer park. I rode by kids, narrowly missing soccer balls and flying frisbees. The bike felt big on me, of course. Hunter was growing taller by the minute, it felt, and he barely even rode this bike, so I was sure it didn’t even fit him anymore.
I stopped just before I got on the main road to collect a dying flower on a rose bush. “For good luck,” I whispered, kissing the petals the way Hunter did when we were little.
“You love flowers,” he said as we sat in the tall grass. “I think if you carry something you love around, it’s good luck. That’s what my mom says, and she loves her cat and takes her everywhere.” With that, he kissed the flower I’d given him and then stuffed it in my pocket.
“What do you love?” I asked, patting the pocket where it now sat.
“Silence,” he answered quietly.
At the time I had laughed that you couldn’t pocket the silence. Now, as I reflected on it, it just made me sad.
The few instances I’d been around his home as a little girl, his father had rocked me to the core with his raging shouts.
I climbed back over the bike and rode, wondering if he was going to the party. He said he had a work shift today at the mail courier place he worked at on the other side of town, and that he might need to do overtime. I hated being away from him—hated the long hours he was there, too. But the work seemed good for him. Lately he’d been cracking smiles, making jokes, bumping shoulders with me like he used to.
I loved when Hunt was happy. God, he was so fun and wonderful when he was himself.
Leo would be there at some point. He never told me when he could make it exactly, but he’d offered to pick me up. I assured him I would be fine. Plus, he was busy today withfamily obligations. Whatever that meant. Probably rich people stuff. And if it was, Leo would surely not tell me. He never rubbed his wealth into any of our faces.
The sky darkened, though it was only five in the afternoon. The season had officially changed. Soon, it would be pumpkin carving and costume hunting for whatever Halloween party was coming up; it was still up in the air who at school would throw the big one.
I was riding along that horrible stretch of road, the long quiet one that Hunter loved to hold my hand walking down. Sometimes a car would pass by, most times not. Because there was no business district here, you had to live down this way to come and go, so most vehicles I already recognized from the trailer park.
I heard a car purring down the road behind me. I moved closer to the side of the road, waiting for it to pass, except it didn’t. I turned my head, catching the dark tinted windows of a familiar looking car. My heart jumped in surprise as I slowed down also, expecting it to pass—forherto pass.
Instead, it slowed down to my pace and the passenger side window rolled down. Mrs Itani looked back at me. The first thing I thought was how beautiful she looked. Her long blonde hair had loose curls and fell around her shoulders, framing her heart shaped face. Her lips were plumper than I remembered, her cheeks more accentuated. Maybe she’d done work on herself, and if she did, it suited her.
Her expression was soft as she regarded me, and by this point I had come to a complete stop because of the utter shock of seeing her this way.
“You look like you’re struggling,” she remarked, friendly.
My cheeks flushed as I realized how I must have looked like riding Hunter’s gigantic bike. “It’s a work in progress.”
She smiled. “Where are you going?”
“Just to a friend’s house.”
She glanced at the driver’s side where a man sat. “Stop the car, Rick.”
The car came to a complete stop next to me, and now I was smiling in a forced way, not sure of what was happening.
“Do you need a ride, sweetheart?” she asked me, sweetly.
My heart pinched at her word of endearment.Sweetheart. Not even Mom called me that.