For the second time that day, sweat rolled down my temple, sopped up by the collar of my shirt. Heavier than she looked, it took longer than I expected to lift her into the bucket and place her just so. With her head on the pillow, I secured the locket around her neck, covered her in the quilt and laid the photo album and bible on her chest.
Unlike the previous time I placed one of my parents in the ground, I said a prayer to a God I wasn’t sure existed, then lowered Mom gently into her final resting place. She looked so peaceful with her head on the pillow.
I wanted to make sure she wouldn’t get cold in the harsh Alaska winter, so I pulled the quilt to her shoulders. At the last minute, I decided not to add the photo album to her grave so I could hold onto the memories we shared.
“He’ll never hurt you again, Mom. I kept my promise.” I pushed the last of the dirt into the hole and regretted not covering her face with the blanket.I hope she doesn’t choke on the dirt.
Chapter 8
Kennedy, age seventeen—October 2005
COWBOY BOOTSdecorated with enough bling to blind me caught my eye in the Main Street Boutique window display. “Those would be perfect for the dance next week.” I pulled Brittany back three steps and dragged her through the door of the store.
A Help Wanted sign sat propped against the wall and I had an epiphany. The cute clothes in the window were enough reason to ask Brittany to fill out an application—the discount would be great for us both.
“But I don’t need a job.”
My best friend had forgotten how persuasive I could be. “But I need those boots.” I lifted one eyebrow and waited for her to sigh and roll her eyes. That’s how I knew she was under my spell.
Like a good girl, she took the sign from the front window and asked to speak with the manager. Just like that, the store owner hired her on the spot.She opened last month and needed someone with good fashion sense to help her run the store. I nudged her shoulder and she asked, “When do I start?”
They agreed her employee discount could be used immediately, with the understanding that if she quit within ninety days, the amount of the discount would be taken from her last check.
Four one-hundred-dollar bills laid flat on the table and Brittany’s eyes widened. She waited until we exited the store before probing. “How do you have enough cash to pay for all this? Does minimum wage really stretch that far?” She frowned, thinking. “What about your brother and sisters? Are they okay?”
“They are. They’re better than they’ve ever been. I’m able to buy them whatever they need. Honestly, whatever they want.” The money I made at the bar boosted my confidence. People didn’t laugh at my hair and clothes anymore and I wanted that for Brittany, too.
I walked out with those boots, a dress, two pairs of jeans, and a shirt. Brittany made out on the deal, too. I insisted she let me buy her a new dressfor the upcoming Halloween dance.
Now that Cody had left me, again, for college, I was so sad. If I didn’t have Brittany, I just might want to die. I almost felt like I needed to buy her friendship; my recent MO had been to ghost her.
Downtown Seward bustled with residents who visited the fall festival; we took the bags to my mom’s car and stuffed them in the trunk. “What next?”
“Are you hungry?” Let’s get some food. Something non-Alaskan.”
Food trucks radiated scents of meat and grease from Main Street. One advertised Texas Barbeque and smelled of sweet sauce; my stomach growled.
“Not really. Let’s go see what cool art people are selling.”
Disappointed, I trailed after Brittany. As many times as I’ve bailed on her, I felt that I owed her a good day.
Vendor tents lined the four alleys and for the first time in Seward, a psychic had been invited to attend. A purple tent with a crystal ball logo stood out amongst the mostly white, mundane set-ups of local artists. The large two-compartment structureappealed to me.
“Oh, look. A psychic.” Brittany grabbed my arm and pulled me to the tent. “I need to know what my future holds. Will I stay in Seward or move back to Anchorage after graduation? Will I get accepted to a college or need to beg on the street corner?” She laughed at her own uncertainty.
We entered the tent and rang the bell, as instructed. A short, pudgy, wrinkled woman appeared and smiled. “Well, girls. Good afternoon. Welcome to my lair. I am Madame Ester.” A frown wrinkled her face even more. “You’ve been in a funk for some time, my dear.”
Not sure what to think—anyone can be in a funk at any given time, right?—I glanced at Brittany. “Me?” She had pointed to me, but I needed to be sure.
“Not to worry, dear. Your one true love will come back to you, soon. You’ll marry him, one day.”
Thrilled, I bounced behind Brittany as we passed through an opening into a private space. We sat around a small table covered with a purple cloth. Madame Ester reached across the table and gazedinto Brittany’s eyes. “Dear, let me read your palm.”
GEOMETRY sucked.Just sucked. Mrs. Wilson adjusted the chalk to write the volume formulas on the board. Her voice grated on my nerves worse than fingers on a chalkboard. Nasally and high-pitched, she sounded like Lisa Simpson. I giggled as a picture formed in my mind of her with a saxophone dancing across the classroom.
“Miss Smith, I’m happy you’re in such a fantastic mood. Do you have something to share with the class?”
I had been in a fantastic mood ever since Madame Ester read my palm. The part about me being careful, though, impeded my giddiness for about a minute.
