Old Orchard

Annabelle

My mother is still questioning our plans; it has been four slow-moving days since we told her about them. I had hoped she had given up on it yesterday when she retreated to stirring her spoon around in her tea. Today she sits hitting her spoon against her cup from time to time, making even clinking sounds; she knows clicking noises when people eat or drink anything drives me crazy. She does need to drop it. Doesn't she know by now that I am the rebellious one? The more she pushes, the more I want to go.

"Annabelle, I just do not think that it is a good idea to leave for the whole summer when you have college to get ready for," she says, dropping her tea bag into her cup. Her cup is a blue one I had gotten her after sneaking in late after curfew a year or so ago. The cup has white lettering that says Stay Calm and Read On. She loves it and uses it most mornings, even when she is upset with me. The cup did its job, though, getting my standard two-week punishment knocked down to a week. My father was the stern parent with his punishments never wavering on them. My mother was easily persuaded with a little gift or hug from time to time. Her gestures were easier to read than my dad's too. My dad's anger would sneak up on me from time to time since nothing about him seemed different from when he was happy. Carla gets most of her personality from him.

Sighing, I sound like Carla here recently and say, "Mom.... I think this is what Grams would have wanted. I do not want to miss out on an opportunity like spending the whole summer in Maine."

I was shocked to see her this morning when I waltzed into the kitchen since it was before noon on a Saturday. Like every morning, Carla sits at the kitchen island, swirling her spoon around her cereal, not eating or saying a word looking like a zombie. A zombie with freshly straightened hair and makeup applied.

"Maine," my mother gawks as if it is the worst state in the world. Even though she has let us gone since we were ten. My mother, always the small-town girl, does not like the thought of change. I assume what this all came down to was driving instead of flying. When my mom found out that we had plans to stop in New Jersey and take an Amtrak into New York City, she almost lost her breakfast when we told her. I wanted to wait till we were, on the road, to tell her, but no. Carla insisted we tell dad so he could help us get hotel rooms booked. I knew she did not need his help to book the hotel rooms, but most likely did this so he would insist on paying for them. She didn't care that I would be on the stand answering questions from my mom left and right the next two weeks. The verdict is in, and we are going, and that is that; no appeals from either parent will stop us.

"The whole summer, you are sure?" Since elementary, my best friend, Craig, asked me after school the next day; I finally had the nerve to tell him our plans. A jolt of guilt goes through me when I see the sadness in his eyes.

"Yea, it was Carla's idea." Craig drops his jaw a little with this bit of information and looks surprised, throwing his hands up to both sides of his face. "What?" he asks while acting shell-shocked. I shove him with my foot while he falls off of the sack in my room. The sack is a giant bean bag but comfier. Everyone calls it my reading sack.

Climbing back up, he says, "It's just that your sister is not known for having any fun ideas." He shoves his blonde bangs out of his light blue eyes, and I know he will have to get a haircut before graduation before adding "Ever."

"That is not true," Carla says, appearing at my open door. Craig had been coming over to our house since first grade, and nothing had ever happened between us like that even though he was a pretty attractive guy. The rule was if any guys were over, both of our bedroom doors had to be opened. I always followed the open door rule, which meant Carla could hear most of our conversations. She would walk in when she felt like it, especially when paying attention.

"Oh right, miss, we have college applications and everything to worry about..." Craig says, shooting her a chilling smile.

"We will be done with high school in less than two weeks, so I feel we both deserve to unwind from all the hard work we have put in." Craig laughs when she says, "all the hard work we have put in." High school was not my strong suit. I liked reading and writing, but I wouldn't say I liked turning in assignments. Not to mention I was horrible at math and hated science, but I am pretty sure it is because I did not put much effort into it. It drove me crazy when my sister would ask if she could help tutor me. No, thank you.

"I did the work I needed to," I say, shooting a look at Craig telling him to watch it while Carla walks back to her room and shuts the door. The only guy she ever had over was the male version of my sister, Justin, both head of our class. The only reason I knew this was because that's all my sister cared about.

I could tell glancing at Craig that he was not happy that I would be missing our senior summer together. "If you wanted to, you could drive out or fly out for a week or so?"

He looks up while thinking about it and says, "I will see what I can do," with a trace of a smile on his lips that I knew most girls would go crazy over.

Craig was the coolest kid at Hayfield all throughout elementary. That was until he moved in fifth grade. We both cried when his parents sat us down and told us the news. Nothing good ever comes out of family meetings. Being fifth graders, we had promised to write each other weekly. And having very little to do back then, we did. I still have all the worn-out letters saved in a round red box. Some were unreadable, yet I still kept them all. Those were the longest 14 grueling months while he was gone. He was my best friend who I sat with every day at lunch; when he left, I had my sister sit at lunch. Even in elementary, she would read textbooks during lunch and recess. The first few months of middle school were the worse. Well, that was until he moved back.

I still bring the letters out from time to time, and Craig and I make fun of our younger juvenile selves. When his family moved back for seventh grade, we were inseparable; I guess a lot hasn't changed; we have been Craig and Annabelle ever since. He is my person, and I am his that we each confide in. Sometimes I divulge too much information, and he jokingly tells me that I need to find girlfriends. I respond every time with, "But you are the Craig to Annabelle," and with those playful eyes of his, he answers back, stating, "And you are the Annabelle to Craig" of course, no one but us understands this. We would have never understood it either until we were separated. It made our friendship stronger and lasted until the end of high school.