Aubrey was next in line. Just over the counter could be the letter. Her heart picked up speed. She fumbled the mailbox key from finger to palm, finger to palm, again and again as she tapped the heel of her right sneaker on the stained white tile.
The old man in front of her thanked the lady behind the counter and took his receipt. Filling her lungs with the stuffy post office air, Aubrey inched her feet forward. Her legs felt stiff. Her mind raced. She did her best to breath regularly but her fear and excitement threatened taking over. It could be here. It could be just over that counter.
Aubrey smiled sweetly at the blonde woman behind the fiber-glass shield that separated the customer from employee. Sliding the key across the counter, the woman took it.
Glancing momentarily at the number 41 on the side, she walked back to box 41. Aubrey bent her neck to get a glimpse. The woman inserted the key. The small door swung open. Those rough pale hands reached into the box to retrieve a stack of papers, mostly consisting of ads Aubrey could see. It could still be in there, though, she thought to herself. The woman brought the stack to her.
Aubrey's hands shook a little as she took the papers. Her fingers swiftly thumbed through the stack. She glanced at each envelope and ad. Nothing. It wasn't there. Her heart began to sink.
It was okay, though, she still had time. When she had submitted her application and resume online, they had said results would be mailed out anywhere from the 15th of May to the 31st. It was the 29th. They would send her a rejection letter even if she hadn't made it, Aubrey reminded herself, and she had gotten no such letter.
Gulping down the lump in her throat, she gathered her papers, thanked the blonde woman, and headed out to her bike. The very thought of not making it sent rocks into the pit of her stomach. She had had nightmares for years now of reading the first line of the letter and knowing it was over. She had done everything; everything in her power so that would not happen.
No, she would get it, she told herself. She had to. It's what she had been working for her entire life. This internship was her future. NASA was where she would go and this Mission Mars Summer Internship was how she would get there.
Sighing as she unlocked the bike lock with a click, she dumped the stack of ads and bills into her basket. Aubrey climbed on the bike and petaled away, trying not to focus on the letter. It would come in its own time. She just had to wait.
Aubrey rode away from the post office, away from her school, and away from her apartment. She couldn't make out where the sun was in the gloomy gray sky. It was somewhere past those clouds and above the high building tops. It had to be around four or five p.m., though, she guessed.
Sharply rounding a corner, Aubrey's legs propelled her wheels across the empty bike lane. In nearly no time at all, she was off her bike again and on her knees, locking the bike to yet another pole.
She brushed the dust off her black pants and gazed up at the faded diner. There was a bird's nest in one of the letters in the sign while the once-teal roof was more of a gray color now. Aunt Vicky worked here.
The bell on the door dinged as Aubrey entered into the golden light. Pots clanked and dishes dinged as people from all around her talked and laughed. It was busy, even for Friday afternoon.
Making her way into a booth farthest from the door, Aubrey swung her backpack off her weary shoulders. Unzipping the pocket, she pulled out her pocket notebook and then set up her laptop. She tapped her pencil against the table as she waited for her browser to load.
"Same as usual?" Her aunt smiled her makeup-caked smile. Aubrey nodded, barely glancing up.
With the tap of her finger, she scrolled down her blog to create a new post. As the slow diner Wi-Fi loaded the page, Aubrey began typing up all the notes from her morning-run notebook in a separate document. Each of those notes Aubrey formulated into elegant paragraphs that told a sort of story.
Not too long after, her aunt came out with her dinner on a silver tray. Looking over her words one last time, Aubrey clicked "publish" and began eating.
There was nothing special about her blog other than the fact that she had one at all. She wrote about what she saw on her runs. That was all it was. No one even really read blogs anymore, but she had a few readers who didn't mind her long posts and lack of images. None that she had even met in person.
Her blog was personal. It was for her mother more than anything. She didn't like sharing it with her public world. It was for those like her to find and nothing more.
Aubrey finished her dinner just as the clock on the wall struck five. It was still early. Minutes later, Aunt Vicky was let off her shift. Gathering her things and unlocking her bike, Aubrey and Aunt Vicky took the bus to the high school where Aubrey left her bike. From there, the two made the short walk home.
Her aunt let out a long sigh as they entered the gloomy place they called home. She laid down on the coach after grabbing a glass of wine and reached for the remote without exchanging one word with Aubrey. Flicking on a news station, Aunt Vicky yawned and pulled a blanket over herself.
Aubrey knew that when this happened, there would be news on for the rest of the night and nothing else, so she headed to her room. Locking the door behind her, Aubrey smiled a little.
She walked over to her closet to open both the doors. Then, she pushed all the clothes hanging over to the side and took a step back. What had once been hidden by white collard shirts and black pants was now brought to the light. On the wall of the back of her closet was spread of papers and notes that looked like a murder scheme. It was no such thing, however.
In her black and white routine she stuck to each day like the world depended on it, this was her secret. Her only secret. And it was nothing more than an idea.
Taking out her notebook again, she looked over the remaining scribbles which she hadn't written into her post. Aubrey began to jot them down on a paper she taped to the inside of her closet. Then, with a pencil, she lengthened a line of a drawing that she had sketched on the white paint last week. Yes, it was moving; whatever it was. It was moving in a pattern like a star or a planate does.
Yawning and closing her closet door, Aubrey kicked off her shoes and laid in bed. Outside her window she could hear people walking through the street and the honking of horns. It was still not yet six p.m. but she was tired. Lying in bed, her mind drifted off.
YOU ARE READING
The Sub-Zero Summer | CURRENTLY UPDATING
Adventure*SEQUEL TO THE POST SUNDAY EXPERIMENT* Days after graduating her senior year of high school, Aubrey Nadir finds herself lost and looking at the only place she's ever had. The sky. When her mother died eleven years ago, the child seemed to lose her...
