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Chapter 20

Charlotte O'Brien

The kitchen was hot and stuffy when I stepped into it on Wednesday morning. The smell of sugared blueberries hit me like a wall and was quickly followed by the perfumes of flour, butter, and honey. My mom was diagnosed with an allergy to maple syrup back when she was five years old and trying to go for a world record in waffle eating. Her tongue and mouth began to feel tingly and she had trouble breathing. Her grandmother, who she had been visiting, immediately dropped to the ground and started begging for forgiveness because she thought my mom's allergic reaction was a form of punishment for the family not going to church that morning. My mother had a severe fear of maple syrup now, and it had never been in the house. We ate our waffles and pancakes with honey instead. I couldn't have even pinpointed the scent of the infamous maple syrup because I had never tasted it before.

The warmth and feeling of normalcy hit me like a tidal wave, soaking my hair and sneakers, and seeping deep down into my very essence. The night before had been one of the most awkward ones of my life. It had made my stomach tighten as Ric fit his body against mine, like two puzzle pieces that almost fit perfectly, but not quite. The presence had followed us like a shadow, and I could almost feel the judgmental thoughts radiating off of it like a space heater. After Braylynn ran out of the bowling alley, I hadn't wanted to talk or associate with Ric at all, wishing only to be alone with my thoughts as the smells of cigar smoke and cat urine overwhelmed me and made my eyes water behind my sunglasses. Her words echoed through my brain, bouncing off the sides of my skull and getting louder with every second. We're all friends! Regardless of how you feel about Charlotte, because she obviously doesn't feel the same way. If she did, she wouldn't flinch when you touched her! The words made me nauseous, but I couldn't deny the absolute truth they laid out in front of me.

It had been humiliating to sit there in the hard plastic chair, my hair falling in front of my face and my knees shaking from anxiety, as Ric had quickly called his mom, his voice colored in anger and annoyance as he had to explain to her exactly how to get to the No Eat Boing, and as he screamed at his sister Mallory for being nosey and for peppering him with senseless questions. I had refused to call my dad, not after what happened that morning. I couldn't shake the feeling that he was giving up on me, that after seventeen years, I had finally truly let him down. I knew that it was all my fault, but I couldn't face him, I couldn't force myself to truly see the consequences of my actions. I only had so many tears to cry.

Ric's mom and sister had arrived twenty minutes later, Mrs. Legrand driving her mustang that seemed to purr as it pulled up to the curb. Ric had opened the door for me and I slid in, the smell of the leather assaulting my nostrils and nearly choking me. Mrs. Legrand had a foot in both worlds: she worked at a tech store, fixing laptops, phones, and tablets, but when she came home, it was like stepping into an episode of the Brady Bunch, or so my dad says. She liked to wear bell bottoms that would swish as she walked and to listen to disco as she did the dishes or cooked dinner. You could hear her platforms pounding the ground as she danced around the kitchen, doing the electric slide and snapping her fingers. She had even named Ric after Ric Ocasek, who was the lead singer of The Cars, her favorite band. Mrs. Legrand was fully aware and adept at the technology of today, but chose to ignore it most of the time. I admired her greatly.

Mallory had assaulted us with questions as we rode home, begging to know about Braylynn and why she left us alone at some skanky old bowling alley. Ric had countered back, asking her why she hadn't done anything about her crush on that cross country runner, and why it seemed that she never had friends to hang out with. I had flinched back even though the words weren't directed towards me; the words seemed unnecessarily cruel. Mrs. Legrand had just quietly drove, murmuring code for computers under her breath. The presence was snug between me and Ric in the back seat, like an invisible wall of warmth that barely kept me from screaming at how ridiculous the two of them were being. It had felt like an eternity until Ric finally offered to walk me home when we pulled into his driveway, but I quickly declined, feeling like I had had my fill of him for at least a week.