American Vacanza

boom crash • madison

I didn't care what Siena said. She might say that I was a terrible person underneath my pink hair, but I chose to believe that she was never, ever going to get past the hair. Not a lot of people could.

When I first dyed it, people at school were shocked. But it was okay, because  I was popular, and the rest of the school knew me enough to not judge me based on my hair color. In fact, I was planning on dying it back when my dad didn't notice how hard I was trying to rebel against his wedding. But then, I got so many compliments, I decided to keep it a while longer.

Siena was really the only one who didn't get it. I could try explaining my reasons to her, but she still wouldn't get it. I just wanted my dad to realize that I didn't want him to marry Krystal. That was it. Just trying to get his attention enough so he'd understand me. But Siena wasn't the type to understand that. She'd say that there was a rational explanation. I could have just gone up to my dad and talked to him, or something.

I swear, I've said this to myself so many times that it could become my catchphrase: when am I ever rational?   

Driving was so boring without Siena talking to me. She was just staring ahead, looking at all the cars in front of us. I could practically see her thinking; if she had a certain thinking face, this would be it. What was running through her mind right now? Creative insults directed toward me? How much she hated me? How she was going to beg my dad for a silver Jaguar like the one in front of us for her sixteenth birthday?

It probably wasn't the last one. But I wouldn't put it past her.

We passed a sign, though, that might have made her perk up. "Hey, Siena. Remember how we said we were going to go to all the cheesy tourist attractions? Well, here you go. The Toy Marble Museum. Yay or nay?"

She looked at me, her face the picture of grumpy: pouting, Kylie-sized lips, weird, wrinkle lines on her forehead, her eyes looking more green than blue. Her whole face looked like a dark cloud had cast a shadow over it.

"What," she spat bitterly, "do you think?"

The sun was going down, and I figured that a new day couldn't come faster. "All right. I guess not. I'm going to find a place for us to stay."

Siena's eyes widened, then shut sarcastically as if to say, shut up. I don't care.

"Okay, then. You can just sleep on a park bench in the middle of nowhere." She kept waiting for me to say "Just kidding!" or something of the nature, like I usually would, but I didn't let one word eke out of my mouth.

"I'd rather sleep on a park bench in the cold than share a room with you," she spat, as if we were talking about Satan himself and not some innocent, happy, pink-haired teenage girl.

"Please. I'd put us in separate rooms even if each room cost all the money in the world." What was I even saying? We'd probably end up at a cheap place where rooms cost like, five dollars a night, or maybe even less.

"Good, because I don't want to hear you snore."

"Good, because I don't want to see your... your ugly... face," I scoffed, my head held high, even though I'd delivered the comeback of a four-year-old.

We sat in silence again as I pulled out on an exit. We were going to go to the Toy Marble Museum, even if it made Siena mad. Especially if it made Siena mad. Because if she liked it, it would be a bonding moment. If she didn't, she'd be in a bad mood, which was exactly what I wanted. It was a win-win.

"What the hell?" Siena asked once we pulled into the bumpy, gravelly parking lot. "Where are we? This better not be the hotel."

"Its not, idiot," I mumbled. "Just get out of the car."

"No! What if you just ditch me? I don't trust you at all after what we did to Ethan. If you don't remember, that was your evil plan."

"Just trust me. I'll hold your hand the whole time if you don't believe me. Plus, Krystal and Dad don't care about Ethan. They care a little bit about you." I walked toward the building, which was a little run-down with its chipped bricks and faded awnings. Not a soul was inside, but I wanted to see Siena make up with me or suffer. There was no in-between.

We stepped around the cracks in the sidewalk and entered the museum, which was no bigger than Linda's Diner and even creepier than Aunt Eleanor's.

An elderly woman sat reading a book in a chair near the front. "Welcome to the Toy Marble Museum," she announced. "Feel free to have a look around, and ask me if you have any questions." Her voice was gravelly and light, just how you'd expect an old woman's voice to be.

Siena's voice, however, had dropped a few octaves. Her eyes bore though my soul, and the angles of her face cast shadows over other parts of her face. "You're kidding me. why would you even take me here?"

That was a little rude. I mean, the woman was right there.

She caught me off-guard. Words didn't usually hurt me, but her angry tone drove a knife through my heart. "Um," I started, "I don't really know."

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "God, I thought you were smarter than that. You're usually perceptive to how other people are feeling, you know? I know you're not actually interested in toy marbles, for pete's sake."

The old woman in the front looked up from her book and scrunched up her nose in disgust. "You're right," I replied, my face flushing with shame. "I honestly don't know."

"I just want to get out of here. This is stupid. Will you please be nice and let me leave here-- and if you say no, remember I have my learner's permit and will run to the car and drive it away, even though I don't have an adult in the freaking car."

"Whoa," I replied, sarastically putting my arms up, "we have a real badass over here."

"You know what?" she began, raising a hand to slap me. She stepped forward to get a better hit, but what ended up happening was disastrous. Her foot got caught on the intricate brasswork of the table's leg, knocking over the table and all the (glass) marbles that sat on it.

In one colorful, fluid motion, every marble came down on the hard floor, crashing down and breaking. "What did you do!?" I asked at the same time as the old woman near the front stood up, throwing her book on the ground.

"You're paying for all of this!"

"Um..." I began, sweatily gripping Siena's forearm in the same white-knuckle way I held the bar on a rollercoaster. "Siena, run!"

We dashed out the door. Luckily, an old woman was the only security the place had, and she'd probably throw out her hip just hobbling over to grab her cane.

I hopped in the driver's seat with the speed of an American Ninja Warrior and barely waited for Siena to jump in beside me before we sped out of there.

"All right," she admitted. "That was kind of funny."