The Saving Bailey Trilogy 1: The Bullet List

Chapter 12

                                                                                Chapter 12

“I want to go on a walk,” I say. “Maybe I’ll check out Walgreens or Goodwill.”

Mom nods and digs in her purse for a few crumpled five-dollar bills. “Here, take this, it’s all I have. Get yourself some lunch at McDonalds.”

“Thanks Mom,” I say and kiss her cheek.

“I’ll be home by ten, okay baby? Don’t go anywhere without calling me,” Mom says.

Her hair is curled and her face is done up, her makeup dramatic. I see myself in her, but only for a moment, because the longer I look, the more her wrinkles show themselves and the dark circles appear through a disconcerting amount of foundation.

“What? Do you like my hair? I get more tips this way,” she says playfully.

“You look nice.”

I follow Mom out the door. She pulls out of the driveway and I watch until the car is a silver speck in the distance.

I speed walk to Camelot Park. It’s a beautiful winter’s day; you can hardly tell the air is frosty, the way the sun is shining.

Alana and I used to come here when we were small, back then it only had a few swings, slides, and a tunnel. The tunnel was a target of teen graffiti; we would climb on top of it, and jump down to the sand below. There wasn’t much to do, but we always found some way to enjoy ourselves.

Alana could climb trees like nobody’s business; she would scare Mom half to death by shimmying up the thin branches and propping herself at the top of an oak tree. One time she fell and broke her arm. Her mom wouldn’t speak to mine for weeks.

During those weeks, I would come to the park alone with my dolls and sit them on the swings. And with my feet and hands buried in the hot sand, stare and stare at them. I didn’t know what to do with myself without Alana. I had been using her as a crutch, as a way to forget my dad, and that unmentionable night.

 Mom took me to counselors, but I wouldn’t talk to anyone. I was living in my own lonely world, unreachable by those who thought they could help me forget my dad, Jack, and how my mother used to be happy. We all used to be so happy.

There are twice as many swings now and slides so tall I wonder if they are even safe. I usually come here to swing in silence; it is almost always empty. I could swing for hours and hours, daydreaming. Today that is what I do. I have conveniently left my cellphone at home, there will be no distractions. I need all the concentration I can muster to sift through my thoughts.

I think about Ashten and how she will never be the same again after last night. My stomach goes queasy at the thought of her burns. I don’t want to throw up my breakfast, so I force my thoughts down another path. A path called, I kissed Trenton and Clad is never going to forgive me. No, forget Clad, what about Miemah? What will she do to me when she finds out?

I imagine the scenarios: a death match with her knife, perhaps, or maybe her fists. If she really wanted to spice things up she could use the brass knuckles she wears around her neck at all times. That would be interesting…

A kid hops onto the swing beside me and I lose my concentration. I leap off the swing mid-air and with mulch sneaking its way into my shoes, exit through the park gate. I am off to pay a visit to the Goodwill; it is only a few streets away.

This is pretty much as boring as it gets, a normal Saturday in Cape Coma. It’s as if the whole city has been put under a sleeping spell. Only A few cars pass by me on my way to the thrift store, but I do notice an ominous white truck lurking behind me.