An artistic playboy? Never heard that one before.
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Parker Ly was a full package-intelligent, good-looking, sporty, and a bad boy. Oh yes, he was also an artist. He also had a secret; he fell in love with a girl in ripped jeans and a blue bomber jac...
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a/n: just one... last... hurrah
T W E N T Y - F O U R : HURRAH
“SO YOU TOLD HIM to call you Snow?” Mrs. Chen said to her daughter, a glass of bright pink lemonade swirling in her hand. Mother and daughter lounged on the roof of their home, gazing at the now setting sun. Mae told herself she was only going to drop her mom off, but by the way she saw her mother's mood dampen the closer they got to the mansion, she decided that maybe a few minutes wouldn't hurt. A few minutes became an hour, and an hour became two hours, and so on.
The view of the western coast was laid out before them like a marvelous color palette of pinks, oranges, yellows, and purples. The sky had streaks of dyed clouds, but they blended in quite well and didn't disturb the sunset itself.
Mae nodded, pouring herself more lemonade. “Right. We went on like that for about three months until Dustin and I were partnered together in class for this project.”
“And Dustin had no idea who you were?” Mae had been hesitant to tell her mother the whole story between her, Parker, and Dustin at first, but eventually it spilled out.
“Yes. Though, he always threw the wildest parties. I always attended as Snow. Never as Mae. Snow was the crazy, daredevil alter-ego of myself. Mae was the quiet, studious version.” Mae tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and turned her head away from the sunset. “I drank, mom. I drank a lot.”
Her mother was silent for a moment, then placed her glass on the glass coffee table between them. She grabbed onto her daughter's hand, gently squeezing it. “I'm sorry. I'm a terrible influence on you—”
“Mom—”
“You were lucky to come out of that phase alive, Mae. Don't you realize that?” Her mother's eyes gleamed with silver, threatening to pour over. “It's hard to come back from that. It took me years and yet, here you are… I'm sorry.”
Mae pressed her lips together, squeezing her mother's hand. “No more apologies. I've had too many apologies said to me and told from my mouth this past week. No more. You're forgiven, but it wasn't your fault.”
Her mother sniffled, patting Mae's hand. “Thank you for coming home this year.”
“I'm glad that I did.”
Their comfortable silence was sliced open by Mr. Chen climbing up to the rooftop. Mae turned to see that he was dressed in his normal attire: a crisp, blue suit and black dress shoes with his hair combed back neatly. Her face unintentionally turned sour.
“Lana,” he grunted, “you need to get ready.”
Mae turned to her mother, a question in her eyes. Mrs. Chen rose from her seat and held a hand out to her daughter. “We're going to a gala tonight. Would you like to help me get ready?”
Mae smiled and nodded. “I'd love to.”
“ARE YOU SURE you don't want to stay the night?” Mae shook her head at her mother's question. After helping her slip into a dazzling midnight blue gown, fixing her hair into a curled up-do, and painting her face with only a bit of makeup, Mae now stood in the driveway of her childhood home. Her father stood next to his wife, an arm around her waist.
“I have a few things I have to finish before school starts in a few days,” she admitted. “Haven't exactly been doing my homework over the past two weeks.”
“At least you got in your college applications,” her father chimed in.
Mae suppressed the glare she wanted to send him. “Yeah, at least that was done.” In all honesty, she'd sent in early applications months ago.
Her mother pouted. “Pity. I would have loved if you'd stayed for one more night.”
“I would, too, but… uh, duty calls.” They bid their goodbyes—a kiss on the cheek, on the brow, a hug here and there. Then Mae unlocked her car and slipped into the backseat. She watched as her father opened the passenger side door for her mother, closing it for her, and then heading for the driver's side himself.
Before his head disappeared fully into his car, he sent Mae a lingering glance that looked almost sad. No regret. No annoyance. Just sadness.
Mae revved up her engine and sent the thoughts away. Her father would never be sad. Even if he didn't get the business deals he wanted, which rarely happened, he was always angry or annoyed, never sad.
She pulled out of the driveway away from the manor, and started back onto the highway. The sky was now a dark blue-black, similar to that of her mother's dress. Amber lights lined the highway, illuminating it in a strange kind of ambience. Only a few cars were with her on the highway, which was bizarre since it was only 7 o'clock on a Tuesday.
She drove for a few more minutes before exiting the highway. She reached an intersection, passing through, but didn't see the car barreling towards her at 80 miles per hour.
Time seemed to stop, or slow down, which was ironic since the car did not slow. Mae could barely register what was happening when the car rammed into the passenger's side, penetrating the metal and flipping her car over the top of its own.
Sounds of screeching and clunking metal filled the barren streets. Mae couldn't even scream because she was unconscious with her head bloodied and caught between two shards of glass from the windows.
When her car stopped sliding, flipped with the top side down, it sat there for another ten minutes before someone called the police and people began screaming.
