Kids These Days

Chapter 33: Andy

The next day, I decide to call Floyd's ranch to check up on Ronan. (It would be a shame if he bled out and died in the driveway, considering all that we did to save him.) One of Finn's younger sisters picks up on the third ring.

"Hello, this is Maureen speaking," a voice chirps. (Finn swears the twins are possessed, but honestly, I don't know them well enough to decide whether or not an exorcism is necessary. They were babies the last time I saw them.) "Nobody ever calls this landline. What do you want?"

"Is your brother there? Or one of his friends?"

"Finn got grounded," says Maureen, a little too gleefully for her own good. "He's not allowed to talk on the phone right now."

Grounded? Finn hasn't been grounded since his dad caught us prank-calling the sheriff's office. I wonder what he did to piss him off this time. "Can you give the phone to Ronan or Becca then? It's Andy, their..." I trail off, unsure of what to call myself. Purveyor of local ghost-stories? Partner in crime? I get along well with Becca, and even Ronan is growing on me, but I don't know what that makes us. More than acquaintances, but less than a...

"Weird neighbor?" Maureen offers.

"Their friend," I decide. If chasing down ghosts and almost getting shot in a dive bar doesn't make us friends, I don't know what does. "They'll know what I mean."

"O-kay," Maureen says, making it clear that she could care less. "It takes like, one million years to get to the attic, so you can talk to Becca. She's on the second floor. Did you know that she and Finn broke up? Yeah, my parents didn't even know they were dating, but I figured it out. It was pretty obvious. My brother isn't allowed to have a girlfriend yet. Maybe that's why he got grounded. Did you know that...?"

Maureen keeps chattering until she hands the phone off to Becca, and even then, I can still hear her giggling in the background.

"Hello? Andy?" Becca's voice crackles through the phone line. "Is everything alright? Are you okay?"

"Living the dream. How's Ronan? Still attached to this mortal coil?"

"Somehow, yes. He's resting a lot. Complaining about how bored he is. Floyd and Finn managed to convince the others that it was a skateboarding accident -- how, I have no idea. The wound isn't infected, so I guess that's good." Becca pauses for a moment, then asks, "Hey, do you want to meet up in town? I just woke up from a twenty-hour nap and I need to get out of the house."

"How does ice cream sound?"

"It sounds like a plan to me."

Which is how, twenty minutes later, I find myself sharing a strawberry milkshake with Becca Fisher on the library steps. We take turns slurping malt through a bendy straw, watching the traffic cruise down Main Street and catching bits of song lyrics from rolled-down car windows. There's a breeze blowing in from the coast that takes the edge off the sweltering afternoon sun. As my gaze catches on the red, white, and blue streamers whipping around in the wind, I realize with a jolt that it's almost the Fourth of July. It feels like this summer is slipping away faster than I can hold on to it. 

"Does your town have a parade?" Becca asks, noticing the streamers. For someone who just woke up from a twenty-hour nap, she looks unfairly good. Her curly hair is pulled back into two neat Dutch braids, and she's wearing a tie-dyed top that brings out all the colors of her eyes. "Or are you just hardcore patriotic?"

"Hell yeah, we have a parade," I say. "We also have floats, pie-eating contests, carnival rides... there's really nothing else to do around here, so we go all out. I heard they're even hiring a band this year, which means we might get some mediocre live entertainment." 

"I can't remember the last time I went to a Fourth of July parade. My parents never liked big crowds..." The smile slips from Becca's face as if she just remembered something unpleasant, like an upcoming math test or a bad date. "I haven't been home in almost a month. I didn't mean to stay in Dusty Valley this long."

"Stay for the parade," I say, nudging my knee against hers. "It's worth it, I swear."

She still looks worried. Finn mentioned that her grandmother was sick -- I bet that's why. "I'll think about it."

We go back to sharing the milkshake, and I can tell that Becca would be content to sit in silence until the sun went down. Unfortunately, I've never been any good at keeping my mouth shut. "So," I say, wiping my face on my sleeve in a very lady-like fashion, "When did you figure out you could... you know? Pull bullets out of people's arms?"

Becca nearly chokes on a chunk of strawberry. "Uh, this was the first time." She gives me a bemused look, though I'm not sure if it's because of the question or the ice cream on my face. "What? Did you think it wasn't?"

"Honestly, I have no idea what to think."

She shrugs, as if to say fair enough. "Sometimes I forget we've only known each other for a few weeks. It feels longer than that."

"Are there limits to your abilities? Can you heal any injury? Cure any illness? Bring someone back from the dead?"

"Why, is there a corpse you're not telling me about?"

"No! I'm just curious!"

"You never told me how you got rid of that car..."

"I told you that it was taken care of." 

Becca shrugs and passes me the bendy straw. "I don't have a lot of answers for you," she says, and I think she means it. It's hard to tell with her. Even if we had spent more time together this summer, I don't feel like I'd truly know her. "I'm figuring it out along the way."

"You sound pretty calm for someone who just discovered they have, like, legit superpowers."

"I didn't just discover it," she insists, throwing a napkin into my lap. "And I definitely don't have superpowers."

I'm about to object to this when a shiny pick-up pulls up to the curb in front of us, blasting ZZ Top loud enough to rattle the side mirrors. The passenger seat window rolls down and a familiar face pokes out of it.

"Hello, ladies," says Jackson, my ex-coworker, "I'm about to blow your minds."

Becca throws the bendy straw at him. He yelps as it bounces off the car door.

"C'mon, not the fresh paint job!" He gives me a beseeching look, as if I'm somehow the one responsible for the strawberry streak on his car. "I come in peace, okay? Chris and I are inviting everyone to his epic summer bash party of the year." 

The driver -- Chris, I'm assuming -- leans over the center console, giving us a full view of his very sunburned face. I vaguely recall him bragging about his family's annual trip to the Bahamas in our calculus class. His mom is a semi-successful divorce lawyer, which basically makes him Dusty Valley royalty. "My parents decided to stay an extra week at the beach so I have the house all to myself. It's going to be gnarly."

"I thought it was going to be epic," I say.

"Why not both? You'll see." As if this situation couldn't get any worse, Chris dials up the charm and winks at both of us. "Tonight. My place. Eight o'clock sharp. Trust me, you don't want to miss it!"

As Chris peels away from the curb, Jackson leans out the window to holler, "Oh, and bring your hot friend!"

I turn back to Becca, who looks like she's contemplating something worse than a ruined paint job, and admit, "I genuinely don't know which one he's talking about."

To my surprise -- and hers, I think -- she bursts into laughter, pressing a hand against her mouth to keep from spraying strawberries everywhere. 

"Well, now we have to go!"