Untethered

Part II: Valentine's Dance || Surprise!

~Part II~

Damp, chill wind whipped and tugged at the tendrils of hair peeking out from Emma's hat, and found its way into the collar of her jacket, causing her to grit her chattering teeth. Mid-February was always one of the coldest parts of winter, and even though it was above zero, it was still bone-chilling. She sped up, navigating the familiar blocks to Rosie's on auto-pilot, giddy to tell her about her date for the dance. She'd called right when she got home from school, but Rosie sounded distracted, so after they made plans for Emma to spend the night, they'd hung up.

Scowling, she remembered that stupid show of intimidation Ryan and Evan had put on, trying to scare Brent off. She understood Evan, he'd always been too overprotective of her-hitting first, asking questions later-but Ryan had no business chasing off potentially interested parties. It was just a game to him; just one more way for him to screw with her, and it wasn't fair. At least Brent hadn't backed down.

Sure, she'd had to stand up to them, but he didn't back off like all the other losers that had wandered too close over the years, and that counted for something. Sixteen-years-old, and she was finally going to her first dance where her date wasn't Rosie. Suddenly, it occurred to her that Rosie might not be too thrilled about this. She'd probably be happy for her, but she didn't have time to get a date. Over the years, Evan had been just as protective of her, as he was of Emma, chasing off any guy who even glanced in her direction. Sighing, Emma decided that if Rosie was too upset, she'd just agree to meet Brent there so her friend wouldn't be alone.

Finally, she turned down her best friend's street, and soon found herself picking her way up the slushy, salted driveway, leading to the back door. Knocking the gritty mush off of her boots, she shoved the door open and stepped into the entryway. She simultaneously kicked her boots onto the shoe-mat, and unzipped her jacket. Then, shoving her hat, mittens, and scarf into the sleeve, she crossed the mud-room and opened the door to the kitchen, smiling at the scent of stuffed peppers coming from the oven.

"Heyo, girly, how's it going?" a gruff voice floated to her from below the island in the middle of the room, and she grinned.

"Hey, Pops! I'm spending the night with Rosie. Didn't she warn you?" Pops was Rosie's grandpa. He'd been a bonafide bachelor, widowed for a number of years before Rosie had landed on his doorstep because her mom left, and her dad was in and out of jail, unwilling to be burdened by the responsibility of a young child. He owned the bowling alley and bar on Main Street, and was known by his patrons as Speedy, but his family-kids, grandkids, and adoptive grandkids, like Emma and Evan-just called him Pops.

He chuckled warmly, standing up with a sauce pan in hand, "No, she didn't. Girl doesn't have the focus God gave a squirrel, but you're always welcome. You know that." He winked at her and began measuring out rice and then filling the pan with the appropriate amount of water. "Besides, we have plenty of food."

Emma's stomach rumbled, and she grinned. "Good, I'm starving! Where's Ro?"

"Pretty sure she's upstairs, I haven't seen her since she got home." He set the pan on the stove, covering it, and turned on the burner. "Dinner's in 30!" He hollered as she headed toward the living room.

"I'll let her know," she yelled back from the bottom of the staircase, before rushing upwards. She heard Rosie's laugh from the end of the hall and smiled. As she reached the doorway, though, she heard another voice, and her brow furrowed in confusion, but she brushed it off and pushed the door open anyway. "Oh my God! What the hell?" she screeched, freezing in the doorway, her mouth dropping open in shock.