With legs and arms that felt like jelly, a throbbing shoulder and a sweaty forehead, I headed outside. I hadn’t bothered with my sweatpants or jacket, just stayed in my shorts and pulled on my boots to walk down the sidewalk to the record store/book store/coffee shop at the other end of the strip mall.
The warm hush of the store was welcoming to me, a small haven away from the chaos and smog of downtownCharleston. I caught sight of Macy’s long blonde hair, bent over a book in the coffee shop, and I let a gentle smile settle on my face. “Hi, Macy,” I said amiably, trying my best to be friendly despite her friendship with Estella.
“Hey,Shannon,” Macy replied with a smile. “Sorry it’s so late,” I said quickly, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was almost eight o’clock—Thursdays were my latest as far as classes went. “No, that’s okay,” Macy said, “I kind of admire you for it—I wouldn’t be able to stick around dancing my ass off for that long—not like you can.”
I laughed and shook my head. “You have to build up to it. I’ve been dancing for thirteen years, and even I still hate spending four hours at a time in the studio. On Saturdays I have seven hours of class—it’s really brutal, but that’s all my competition classes so I guess it’s worth it.”
Macy looked awestruck, and she quickly shook her head, as if to clear it. “Wow,” she murmured, then looked down to close the book she’d been reading. “Hey, do you want something to go?” she asked, cocking her head towards the menu. “I mean, it’s the least I can do, since you’re taking me home.” I glanced at the menu briefly, though I already knew the answer.
“I can’t,” I said shaking my head, “Though I’d love to take you up on that offer, I can’t eat any of this stuff. I’m on an extremely strict diet of salad, water, and fruit. Thank you anyways.” Macy raised her eyebrows, “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”
I nodded, smiling weakly, “That’s an understatement; you ready to go?” Macy nodded and picked up her things, chattering as she followed me to my car. “You can just throw your stuff in the back seat,” I said as I climbed in. A second later, Macy joined me, swinging into the passenger seat and a whirlwind of her extremely long blonde hair.
“Are you still going to take classes?” I asked as I pulled onto the high way and headed back towards the suburbs. “Yeah,” Macy said, pulling a schedule out of her pocket, “I’m taking ballet on Mondays from 7-8, and Lyrical Combo on Wednesdays from 7:30 to 8:45.”
“Really?” I asked, grinning widely, “I teach the Monday class with Chris and the Wednesday with Brin!” Macy’s smile mirrored my own, and she bounced in her seat. “That’s great! Now I don’t have to worry about getting a mean teacher!” I laughed with her, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the song that was playing lowly from my radio. “Hey! I love this song!” She exclaimed, reaching over to turn it up.
It was “Swing, Swing” by The All-American Rejects. I smiled at Macy, nodding to the beat. “Yeah,” I agreed, “The All-American Rejects were pretty kick-ass back then. All their new stuff kinda sucks.”
Macy nodded sympathetically, “I know what you mean. My brother was thirteen when their first album came out—he was obsessed with them. I grew up listening to their music blaring through my bedroom walls.”
I laughed with her, then flicked my blinker and pulled off the highway intoFollyBeach. “Where do you live?” I asked at the bottom of ramp. “Tyson Oaks,” Macy said, “It’s off of—”
I cut her off, “I know where it is.” The song filled the silence as I maneuvered through town, headed down to the neighborhood for the wealthiest ofFollyBeach—Tyson Oaks.
At the gate, Macy had to supply an ID to the gatekeeper before he would let us in, and she directed me to her driveway. “Thanks again,” Macy piped up as she buckled her seatbelt. “We should hang out sometime—you’re pretty cool.”
I smiled at her, “Sure, sounds like fun.” I said, though I couldn’t imagine she meant it. Estella would make my life living hell if she ever found out.
I didn’t pull out of the driveway until Macy’s safely in the house, and then I left for my house.
I didn’t remember my impending talk with Astley until I was pulling into my driveway, and my teeth bit down on my lip as a sudden dread stole over me.
I wasn’t looking forward to this, because I always felt like a jealous thirteen-year-old when I thought about Estella. I was afraid Astley would think I sounded like one, and then he’d tease me about it for all of eternity.
And yeah, I was extremely jealous of Estella because Astley was hers. But it was more hatred than jealousy that I felt towards the red-headed succubus. And pure anger at Astley for even thinking about going after Estella of all people. I could only imagine that perhaps he’d forgotten who had killed my mother and younger brother—if he hadn’t, I couldn’t imagine how he could possibly look me in the face anymore.
After a small dinner of a salad—no dressing, mind you—I headed out to the backyard, wearing a pair of yoga pants and a tank-top, with an unbuttoned cardigan.
Astley had lived next door to me since the beginning of time—our mothers’ families had owned summer houses here inFolly Beach,South Carolina. My mom was originally fromMichigan, and Astley’s fromAlabama. Every summer, spring break, and Christmas break, they met atFollyBeach.
And when our mothers were married and pregnant, they moved into the houses—where Astley and I live now. We have separate yards, but long before even our mother’s were born, a large oak tree was planted on one of the properties. Nobody knows which yard it was originally intended for—now it’s on both properties, and it splits the fence.
When I was five and a half and Astley was six, our fathers built us a tree house in the tree, with a ladder on each side of the tree. Even now, it’s our little safe place. Nobody allowed but he and I, as it’s always been.
I climbed the ladder slowly, because my legs still felt like Jell-O and it was dark—and my extreme clumsiness. The lights weren’t on inside, meaning I had beaten Astley. I ducked inside through the small trap-door, then found the light switch.
The Christmas lights, like the ones in my room, blinked on, and I kicked off my shoes and placed my cell phone inside one of the boots. Over the years, Astley and I had brought up tons of pillows, blankets, and all of our stuffed animals, and now the coarse wood floor was nowhere to be found under mounds and mounds of blankets and pillows and we liked it that way. We fell asleep up here all the time.
One wall was lined with two bookshelves, which were filled with numerous books, our boxes, and other random oddities. In between the bookshelves was a glass-paned Window, with a window seat below it. Another wall had the door that lead out onto the balcony. The wall parallel to the bookshelves had a long counter, with cupboards and a mini fridge below, all of them full of mostly junk food, candy and soda. All of Astley’s stuff, except for my occasional snack—and by occasional I mean once a month. The last wall was covered in pictures. Of everything from Astley and I, to pictures of our families, hilarious pictures we’d found online, pictures of our favorite bands, pictures of ballet for me, of girls for Astley.
Some time during the summer before sixth grade, Astley and our dads went out and bought somewhere around thirteen extension cords to run electricity up to the tree house. Now they were buried in our yards, and duct taped up the side of the tree, but it was the reason our mini fridge, Christmas lights, and the air conditioning during the summer.
After a few minutes of waiting for Astley, I stood and looked out the glass-paned window, just in time to see to figures climbing into a convertible, then driving out of Astley’s driveway.
So he’d forgotten about me. Wonderful. Defeated and frustrated, I sat down on the floor again, curling up and pulling a nearby blanket over me. Maybe he was just going to the grocery store or something—and then he was coming straight back. Though I knew deep down that I shouldn’t be defending him, I did anyways. And I decided I’d just stay here and wait for him to come back.
