Blame The Weeds (gxg)

20

On the morning of my eighteenth birthday, I found a blood-swollen tick under my watch band. After screaming, fainting, then waking up to my father's ultra-concerned face, I froze solid on the ground, mumbling about it. Dad eventually ripped it out and dropped it into a mason jar.

"Did you get it all?" I rushed out. He grunted. "Really? Are you sure?"

"No," he said.

"What?!"

"Hush," Gabrielle cooed.

"Lid," I wheezed, staring at the jar in his hand.

"Might it cause Lyme disease?" said Gabrielle.

"Lid lid lid lid lid!" I said.

"Let me see it," Rue said, brow pinched in concentration as she took the jar. "Hm. Interesting. I think it might be—"

"Lid! Lid right now!"

"It's just a tick!" Rue said, slamming the tin screw on. "There! Happy?"

"No!" I said.

"What's wrong with you?" she demanded.

"What's wrong with you?!" I said. Gabrielle clapped like we were dogs. We obeyed.

Our parents shared a look at the tension ever-present. Rue and I hadn't discussed what happened and weren't going to. Ida had let us over, Frank was a piece of furniture, and Luke was despondent. All was normal.

"It's a dog tick. They don't carry Lyme here on the coast." Rue threw the jar at me but I slapped it across the room. It thudded on my carpet.

"What if you'd broken it?" teased Gabrielle.

"I'd move out," I said, avoiding a look at my itching wrist.

"Rue, go break it," dad joked. Everyone laughed but me.

Gabrielle patted my crossed legs, standing up straight. "Your friend's going to be here soon. Come down to get your birthday gifts."

"It's a suitcase," my father threw in, groaning at the creak in his knees. "Time to find a job."

"Ha ha," I deadpanned.

All three left me on the floor, wide-eyed, with the potential of finding other parasites slowly eating away at me. My legs, perhaps. Maybe my scalp.

I fainted again. On my birthday.

~

The loamy breeze off the coast enveloped me, whispering sweetly about wings and freedom and love, but I had to spit out my curls often too and they tasted like hairspray.

"Are you insane?!" Freya laughed. The wind whipped through my hair as I hollered like a wolf, leaning out the passenger's side with my hands in the air.

"Drive faster!" I said, playing with the whipping air. I relished the sting in my cheeks. It kept me alive the whole way out, and gave me a reason to smile. It never felt like enough, so I said, "Don't be a wimp, Cameron! Floor it!" Still, Freya never did. Actually, her hands tightened on the wheel, and she may have even slowed down.

By the time we arrived, it was around noon. It'd been a full week of dates since I called Freya Cameron my girlfriend, even if no one knew but us. Gabrielle was overjoyed to see me smile with my friend again, Rue was in a chronic bad mood, and Dad always shook Freya's hand at the door.

Freya parked the Jeep and grinned. "Ready for the best birthday ever?"

"It's a low bar," I said dryly. She rolled her eyes and inspected my wrist again. Her eyes widened.