Rewired

Chapter 6: Now What?

     The whole ride home that night, I couldn't think about anything but Sammy. It hadn't been my first kiss or anything, but holy shit, it was crazy. I had only just realized a few hours before it happened that I might actually want to be with him, and now? He had me swimming around in a googly, girly pit of glitter and unicorns, for crying out loud. I didn't know what it was, but I could tell that something had just shifted tonight. Granted, I was still  just a little dumbstruck from what possibly may have been the most perfect kiss ever to occur between two people.
     As I walked up the driveway and onto the large, white, wraparound porch surrounding my house, the whole scene kept replaying in my head. Sammy pulling me down from the truck, the smell of campfire smoke in the scruff of his beard. I placed the key into the door and threw it open. Seeing as all of the lights appeared to be off, I assumed everyone had gone to bed. That was fine with me. On nights like this, after those indelible moments that you knew would stick with you forever, I kind of preferred the quiet. I wanted the head in the clouds feeling to last for as long as possible.
After changing into my favorite batman pajama pants and a purple thermal shirt, I nested down into my comforter and settled in for the night.
     I wouldn't have been surprised if I'd dreamed about Sammy that night, but in all actuality, I was more exhausted than I had realized. After a long, dreamless sleep, I finally woke up to the sound of "Shake it Off" by Talyor Swift at around 9:30 am, the sweetness from last night receding as the upbeat pop song shattered blared in my ear. I knew it was Layla before I even picked up the phone. "Shake it Off" was her ringtone. It was the only custom one in my phone. Not that I didn't love my sisters, but even the small age gap made a difference. They were both texters over callers for sure.
"Whaaat?", I groaned into the phone. "It's so early!!!" I was seriously contemplating going over there and kicking my best friend in the face. I was so tired.
"No, 6 am is early.", she corrected me. "Running today? Followed by some Casey's?" It literally disgusted me how chipper she sounded in the mornings. Run, coffee, or shower. I needed one of those three before my social skills elevated beyond those of a soaking wet cat. Still, honey mustard wings before noon really didn't seem like the worst choice...
"I'm coming, I'm coming.", I complained. "Your road or mine?"
"Mine. Yours is full of hills", she replied, flatly. I figured that would be her answer. I loved hills, but for Layla, who was primarily good on flat, speed oriented courses, I might as well have been asking her if she'd like to walk barefoot over a floor full of lego's.
By the time I had showered, grabbed some running clothes and my favorite New Balances, and headed over to Layla's house, it was about quarter after ten. Her dad, every bit the morning person that Layla was, appeared to be immersed in some sort of project. Currently, he was sanding something down, surrounded by wood, varnish, an assortment of power tools.
"Hey, Marielle!", he called across the yard to me. "Layla's putting some chairs away out back"
"Thanks, pops!", I yelled back. I probably should have referred to Layla's dad as Steve or Mr. Brooks, but they both sounded just a little awkward. I'd known him long enough, though, and even been on vacation with her family a couple of times, so after a few years of "hey you", I had finally settled on 'pops' as a good intermediate. I tended to try to brush away awkwardness with humor. Usually without much success, but in this case, it worked.
I walked around the side of the house and found Layla, dressed in neon, rainbow colored shorts with leopard spots on them. Her blonde hair had been pulled up into a haphazard messy bun, a few pieces falling out around her face as she carried chairs to the garage.
    "You woke me up, you know", I grumbled, wrestling a blue, canvas camping chair into its bag. The people who made these had to know what a pain in the ass it was to put them pack into their covers. I hoisted it over my shoulder, along with another that had already been bundled up and followed Layla around to the front of the house.
     "Somehow, I think you'll live", she shot back, rolling her eyes at me.
     "The weekend, Layla," I pushed back, clearly just giving her a hard time, "you're trying to kill me."
     "Party was fun last night, though, wasn't it?", she said brightly. "And Zeke got tired and adorable after you'd left."
     Somehow, I wasn't really sorry I'd missed that. As I said, they were cute, but sometimes disgustingly so if you were around them for too long.
     "Yeah, it was a pretty great one", I told her. If that wasn't an understatement of epic proportions. "Let's get going. Wings soaked in ranch are calling me name right now!"
     It drove my mom, my siblings, and pretty much everyone I knew nuts how I could eat heavy foods like that for breakfast, but I love food, so sue me. If there's pizza, wings, or chicken tenders available first thing in the morning, so be it. Layla, however, shared my refined taste in breakfast foods. One of the many things that we'd bonded over was eating pizza lunchables for breakfast on the cross country bus.
     After a brief stretch and a couple "good morning"s, we headed out down the curvy, two lane road at a nice, light jog. Thankfully, the heat had broken, and despite not having wanted to wake up, I had to admit that it was a beautiful day. We had planned to run just an easy three miles and call it a day. We talked about her party last night, which consisted mostly of the usual casual gossip. Brooke had gotten into a fight with her boyfriend over something he had posted on Facebook, a couple of people had been asked to prom. Nothing major. As we reached the small, stone bridge that had marked our turn around point for years, Layla rounded on me, asking, "So what happened with you and Sammy last night?"
"Nothing really," I told her, trying to hold back a smile. I wanted to tell her, of course, but still, I wasn't even sure what that was all about. For all I knew, he was going to wake up wondering why the hell he did that. I mean, I had checked my phone before we left Layla's house to see if he had texted, but so far, nothing. Then again, it wasn't even noon yet.
"Absolutely nothing?", she asked, seeing through my nonexistent poker face.
"He just gave me a ride home, we got my keys. That was about it", I said. It wasn't totally untrue. I just left out the epically romantic ending.
     "And...", she prompted. I swear she could sniff out that something exciting had happened from a mile away. And just by the way, the fact that she waited until she knew I was trapped with a good mile or so left to go before starting this conversation was starting to seem intentional.
     "And that's it! I'm starving, I'll race you!", I said in a quick, rapid-fire fashion. Before Layla had time to respond, I had taken off down the road like a maniac. Not to be outdone, Layla followed after. We traded back and forth for a while before her speed took over and she beat me by a couple hundred meters by the end.
     "So much...for an easy...run", I choked out, sucking in slow, deep breaths. "That was fun."
     "I think...I'm dying", she gasped back, laughing as she looked up from where she lay sprawled out on the grass. This was relatively routine for us. We were both impatient, which led to a lot of easy workouts-turned-sprint outs.
     After running into her house for a few minutes to grab some water, I plopped down into the passenger seat of her blue Dodge Neon. As she started up the car, "Party in the USA" came on the radio, a perfect fit for the sunny, almost summer day. We sang the song at the top of our lungs like a couple of goofballs, pulling into Casey's a few minutes later.
     While the place was, by definition, a bar, the restaurant was separated by a small hallway, and I had never seen the actual barstool side of the building. The building was identified by a large, well weathered sign out front, emblazoned with chipped, red letters. The blue paint covering the exterior of the building was also peeling. So, the place looked like it was falling apart. I thought it added character. People had made memories in here over the years. Memories that would live within these well worn walls for years to come.
     Entering through the side door, also a washed out, blue/gray color, the restaurant opened up into a small dining room. There was a small stage straight back from the door that had been used for karaoke once upon a time, while wooden tables sat between the orange covered, vinyl cushions on the booth seats. Pictures of various places in the Ohio Valley and some sports related items hung on walls which were painted white on top and lined with wooden paneling on the bottom. Was it the prettiest sight? Not by any means, but it was one of my favorite places, for sure.
     Delilah, an older waitress with short, curly, gray and white hair greeted us as we walked in.
     "Layla! Marielle!" she exclaimed, "How are my favorite girls doing?"
     Like I'd said, we'd been coming here for years, so she knew us pretty well. She was a warm-hearted lady with a sometimes startling sense of humor, and I always enjoyed talking to her whenever we came in.
     "Hey Delilah!", I said, returning the warm hug she had wrapped the both of us into. "We're good! Had our district meet yesterday and we both made regionals!"
      "Wow!", Delilah said, taking my  step back and placing her hands on her slightly plump hips. "That's pretty damn good. Anybody else joining you dears?"
     "Nope, just us.", Layla told her, with a look I was unable to discern. "Unless Marielle has a hot date with the hot guy she's been talking to".
     So that was what the look was about. Greeeat. Let the interrogations begin.
     "What hot guy, may I ask?" Delilah inquired, raising her eyebrows at the growing shades of pink forming along my cheeks.
     Shooting Layla a look that said shut the hell up, I replied, "Nobody. Layla's delusional. And procrastinating on her scholarship applications, I might add."
     Delilah let out a giggle and showed us to our table, not bothering to write down our order or hand is menus. We always ordered the same thing- large honey mustard wings, side of French fries, ranch and celery, and two Dr.Pepper's. The food didn't take long to come out, and it tasted damn good. There was nothing like eating right after a good run on an empty stomach. It just made everything taste that much better. Layla and I continued a rapid fire conversation ranging from Mr.Stark's U.S. History test to what color dresses we wanted to wear to prom. We were in the middle of a semi-serious debate when my phone started to ring. As I picked up the phone, I heard my mother's voice.
"Hija, where are you?", she asked me. "Your abuela is waiting for you guys."
"I'm just up at Casey's. I'll be home in 10", I told her. Looking down at our plates, the wings had been demolished already, and the check was sitting on the table.
"Late for empanada day?" Layla asked as my mom and I hung up.
"You just want junk food.", I said knowingly. Then I promised, "I'll bring some to school tomorrow."
"You'd better! Grandma's empanadas are the best!"
Before taking off, I checked my phone again to see if Sammy had called. Still nothing. It was still early in the day, though. I figured I'd give it time. Layla and I paid the checks, headed outside, and I took off for one of my favorite traditions. As accident prone as I was in the kitchen, I loved to bake.