The bell rings and everyone is running down the halls, teachers try to stop them but their efforts are pointless. I’m the only one actually acting appropriately. At home I can unleash myself. But not here. I allow the barbarians to pass me and when I see an opening, I seize it. I walk out to the parking lot and open Lilac’s passenger door. As stupid as it is, I don’t have a car. I don’t even have my license. I’ve driven a couple times when I was fifteen when my dad was still around. But ever since Mom got married again, she hasn’t paid attention to my needs at all.

Someone is sitting in my seat. And Lilac’s kissing him. And I don’t mean a little kiss. He looks like he’s graduated already. Gross. Lilac doesn’t even notice me. The guy didn’t even notice I opened the flipping door! I scoff and angrily shut the door. Crap, now I have to take the bus.

I run toward the buses but all of them already left. Well, except for the last one. I wave my arms but I’m a little too short for the driver to see me I guess. Teenagers make faces at me and write ‘Loser’ on the window. But it’s backwards. So it looks really stupid. I walk around the back field where they hold football practices. My house is six miles away from the school. And I have to go through the creepy part of town to get there. I don’t feel like getting mugged or worse. I pull out my cell and call Mom. It goes straight to voicemail. Really? It beeps.

“Hey, Mom, it’s me. Um it’s about half past two and I don’t have a ride home. Do you think you can come get me? Call me as soon as you get this. Bye,” I flip the phone shut and wait. And wait. And wait. I check the time on my phone and it’s close to four now. Where the heck is she?

I walk around the front of the school and see if I can get a ride. No teens in sight. Well, it’s summer. Why would any kid come within fifty feet of school? Then I wonder if maybe Lilac is still here. I doubt it. But I check anyway. I run to the student parking lot but the only thing left is a couple cigarette packs and an empty iced coffee cup. It looks like a desert. Then I smack my head because I realize that one of the teachers could’ve driven me home. Then there’s hope. Across the lot I see someone getting in their vehicle. It’s a teacher I think. It’s Mr. Ross. Um, no thanks. That teacher gives me the creeps. Mr. Ross notices me though, of course.

“Do you need a ride?” he calls.

“No thanks. My mom’s coming,” I lie.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Yep.”

His vehicle starts up and I watch as Mr. Ross drives away, leaving a trail of dust. I let out a deep breath because apparently I was holding it. By this time it’s almost five thirty. So reluctantly I start my walk. About ten minutes into it, a big truck drives up the street toward me. The driver is someone I’ve never seen before. He looks my age, though. Impulsively, I wave my hand, motioning for him to stop. The boy looks confused but stops anyway. He rolls down his window and I have to stand on my tippy toes to see into the vehicle.

“Where are you going right now?” I ask.

The boy replies, “Nowhere, why?”

“I need a ride home.”

“Well, I’m the man for the job,” he smiles and opens the door. He pats the seat next to him and I gratefully climb in. I have to put my foot up to my waist in order to get in. If someone who isn’t very flexible tried to get in, it’d be an adventure. The boy turns down the radio and holds out his hand, “And exactly who am I allowing into my truck?”

I shake his hand, “Rebecka Blatt, Almost Senior. And exactly who is driving me?”

“Jacobi Daniels,” he grins. He has a nice grin. “Where do you live Rebecka Blatt-Almost-Senior?”

“Just down that way on Fourth Street,” I say. He nods and drives up to the school to turn around.
“So how come you need a ride?” he asks.
“I don’t have my license,” I say, a little embarrassed.
“That sucks. How did you survive the whole year?” he wonders.
“My best friend Lilac drove me.”
“Was she absent today?”
“No, she had a boyfriend or something. I don’t know.”
Under his breath I hear him say, “Some friend.”
Jacobi smiles and turns up the radio. Country music blares through the speakers and Jacobi bobs his head back and forth and taps his fingers on the wheel. I cover my ears and he looks a little sorry when he sees my reaction. He immediately turns it down.
“You don’t like country?” he says.
“No, it’s fine, it’s just a little loud,” I say with a grin so he doesn’t feel too bad.
“Oh, sorry about that,” Jacobi turns it up again but not too loud this time. Soon Jacobi pulls onto Fourth Street and spots my house. He stops right in front of my driveway.
“Well that was fun,” he sighs.
I laugh a little and reply, “Thanks for the ride.”
“Anytime.”
I open the door and jump out of the monstrous truck. My feet land softly on my dirt driveway. I walk up to my front porch and knock. I can hear hurried footsteps coming down the stairs. Mom’s new husband, Patrick opens the door. I quickly wave to Jacobi as he drives away down the street. When we get inside, Patrick slams the door and yells, “Where were you?”
“I didn’t have a ride,” I explain. Toward Mom who’s upstairs I add, “We wouldn’t have this problem if I had a car.”
“You know very well why we can’t afford a car for you,” Patrick says.
“Yeah, because I have to pay for it myself. But what about Driver’s Ed?” I ask.
“That’s too expensive too,” Patrick says.
“Everything’s too expensive lately,” I grumble. I storm up to my room as Patrick yells behind me, “And what’s that supposed to mean? Rebecka, I’m not done talking to you!”
I ignore him and head to their room. Mom’s packing her bags for the big honeymoon she and Patrick are taking. I’m happy for her, I really am. Mom smiles at me and then gets serious. “You know better than to talk to Patrick that way.”
“I know, Mom. But it’s not my fault I was late,” I say. Mom nods in agreement and adds, “Why didn’t you call me?”
I groan, “I did, Mom. This is exactly why I’m angry. You guys don’t have time for me. I don’t have my license! I can’t take my friends to a movie, I can’t get a job because no one has time to bring me! We don’t do fun family stuff anymore like when Dad was here.”
I don’t mean to say it. It just slips out without warning. I know Mom is hurt that I think this but it’s true. When Dad was here two years ago everything we did was family based. It was always fun. But Mom couldn’t handle what Dad did to her. No one would be able to. And no one should. I agree that she had every right to say good-bye. But I still wish he was a part of my life. Even if I only saw him once a year. The last time I heard anything about Dad, he had run off with some girl to Mexico.
Mom doesn’t look at me. She just keeps packing and whispers, “That’s not true.”
I cross my arms in frustration and walk out of the bedroom. My room is my only. As weird as it is, I think about Jacobi. Like I’ll ever see him again, but it was comfortable in his truck. I didn’t feel awkward because he didn’t make it awkward. He made it seem like I was one of his buddies. I think about his wavy jet black hair and hazel eyes that seemed to change color at certain points. Jacobi had an ear piercing at the top of his ear but somehow it didn’t look weird on him. It looked natural. He wasn’t emo or goth. He was kind of normal. We was wearing an army green watch and a brown t-shirt with shorts. Yep, she was normal. My kind of normal.
I shake my head, trying to get rid of the thought because there is no way Jacobi would like me. I have boring straight brown hair and boring brown eyes. I have boring gold studs for earrings that I wear everyday and my figure is not exactly model material. I’m not fat, but I’m not tall and slim either. If he met Lilac, he would like her way better. She has beautiful blonde curly hair and bright blue eyes and she is perfectly proportioned. She wears different kinds of earrings everyday and she dresses fashionably.
Stop thinking of Jacobi as a potential boyfriend! He will be just a friend. He wouldn’t like me and he probably already has a girlfriend. Plus, I’ve gotten my heart broken enough times. A sharp pain goes through me as I think back to my freshman year. Danny Reynolds. Junior, had a car, what wasn’t to like. Until he…Never mind.
I hear a knock on the door and frown. I open my door and see Mom standing there. In the hallway I see numerous suitcases labeled ‘Blatt.’
“Yes, Mom?” I sigh.
“I want to talk to you before we go,” Mom says and leads me to my bed. She sits down and clasps my hand in hers.
“I-We know how hard this is for you. But I want you to understand why things turned out this way. Patrick…” she begins.
“Yes, I know. Respects you, respects me, he’s perfect for you. I’ve heard it before, Mom,” I say.
“No, not that, honey. Patrick knows that he can never replace…Dad. But he does want to be there for you, always. He loves you, too you know. That’s why he was so concerned about you. Also, we’re not leaving you out of the honeymoon. We decided that you should stay because: one, I don’t think you’d enjoy it much; two, we completely trust you. And, we left you three hundred dollars on the counter so you can order takeout or if we run out of toothpaste or something. And you can have a friend over or you can go over a friend’s house. I don’t care what you do as long as you’re safe, and the house isn’t a mess when we get home. All right?” Mom smiles.
I smile back and say, “Okay. Thanks, Mom.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” Mom says and gives me a hug. I inhale her cherry blossom scent to hold onto for three months because they won’t be back until late August. “Call when you need us,” she adds.
“Yep,” I assure her.
Patrick appears the hallway ready to go with his three suitcases. He heads downstairs to start loading the car. They’ll be heading to the airport and leaving for the Caribbean Islands. Lucky. How would I not find that fun? Oh well. I have the house to myself! As I think about this I start to worry. What if the house burns down? What about bills?
“Uh, Mom, Patrick? What will you do with the bills?” I wonder, a little scared.
“It’s all right. We’ll pay them when we get back,” Patrick reassures me. I nod, a bit more confident that I can live on my own now. Patrick steps outside and Mom brings a suitcase out to the car, too. Because I want to, I bring down the last suitcase and shove it in the trunk. Patrick shuts it and gives me a quick hug and says, “Bye, munchkin. See you later.”
Then it’s Mom’s turn. She’s crying. “Mom it’s okay. I’ll see you soon.”
“I know. But three months is such a long time!” She’s bawling her eyes out now.
“You have Patrick, though. He’ll keep you occupied. He’ll make you forget about time. August will be here before you know it!” I hug her and pat her back.
“Okay,” she says and smiles at me. “You’re so grown up,” she continues, “your father would be so proud.”
“I know, Mom. Now go before you miss your plane!” I usher her.
“You’re sure you’ll be fine?” she wonders.
“Yes! Now get your butt in the car!” I say. Patrick waves and I wave back. He starts the engine and I watch as my parent and Patrick drive down the road. I sigh with relief. I thought they’d never leave. Mom gets like that, though whenever she goes on a long journey. I think Patrick is the best thing that’s ever happened to her. Mom would’ve never done this if it weren’t for him. Mom seems to be able to do so much more now. I smile at the thought of her laying on the beach in the Caribbean. He probably will get her to try surfing. That will be interesting.
I head inside the now empty house. I snag the three hundred dollars and realize I should probably exchange them for twenties. I look in the cabinets and see that they’re stocked full with every food you could think of. Mom must’ve done a huge grocery shopping trip. I check the fridge and that’s completely full, too. The pantry as well. Half the stuff I don’t even know what I’d ever use it for. I examine the items and notice Mom organized them by their expiration dates. Things that expire within a week are in the front.
I pull out a bow of noodles and a package of pesto and figure I’ll give it a shot. I get a pan and fill it up with tap water. I turn on the stove and let it boil. Then I put in the noodles. After those boil, I strain the water from the noodles and put the noodles back in the pan. Then I pour in the pesto and mix it around. I scoop out a plateful for myself and put the rest in a Tupperware container for leftovers. I’m going to do this the smart way and not use up all the food Mom bought. Just the stuff that won’t last very long.
I pour a glass of milk and bring my drink and plate to the dining table. Then I change my mind and sit in the living room. I don’t want to feel like I’m eating alone so I turn on the TV.