C H A P T E R 9: Sunflowers and War
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Scout sat cross-legged on the ground outside of V&L's Motel where she stared a large, horned beetle into near non-existence. It was about the size of a small farm animal, she thought. It reminded her of something that might have crawled straight out of Animal Planet... or Mandy's womb.
She yawned and stretched her arms up towards the corpulent, pink clouds that reminded her of cotton candy hippos floating across the ambers and corals of the morning sky. Her mid-drift rose slightly more over her belly button, and it was then that she wished she would have worn a longer shirt. If she had known upon dressing that morning that she would be babysitting Skylar for the day, she probably would have wrapped herself up in her bedsheets — scratch that; she probably wouldn't have gotten out of bed at all.
Don't think for a second that she did not protest. She almost walked a goddamn picket line and called the Union when her father knocked on her bedroom door that morning demanding that she make sure Skylar was acclimating well to Santan Valley. The alternative was giving up three months' worth of pay — one of the many "perks" of having your father as your boss. Scout never responded well to ultimatums, so she confiscated her father's wallet before she left. She figured if she had to spend the entire day touring Santan Valley with the third to last person she wanted to spend time with — the others being Antonio and Mandy, — then Scott could at least fund the excursion. She thought of it as compensation.
Eventually, the beetle wandered off somewhere near the motel's office, where Scout heard the faint chit-chat of Violet and Lily streaming out of the open window. A moment later, Violet emerged from the office with a large duffel bag hoisted over her shoulder. She stopped on the step when she caught sight of Scout sitting in the middle of the parking lot.
"G'mornin', SJ," Violet said.
Violet Fern was possibly one of the least sociable people Scout had ever met, but she always seemed to have a soft-spot for Scout. Scout assumed it was because insolence loved company just as much as misery does.
"Morning," Scout greeted with a hand over her eyes like a visor.
It was then that Scout realized the rarity of a Violet Fern sighting before noon. Violet only ever got up that early on a handful of occasions, and, typically, they were never good occasions. Over the years it had meant:
1. Someone is dead.
2. Someone is dying.
3. Something is on fire.
It never meant:
"It's a beautiful morning, so I thought I'd get out of bed and enjoy it."
No, it never meant that.
Scout scurried to her feet, quickly wiping the dirt off of the denim shorts that she practically lived in. "What's going on?" she asked with a new cadence to her voice, one of panic.
Violet's eyebrows drew together in a dark line across her forehead. "Nothin'," she answered. "Cool your jets, kid."
"Well, why are you awake? You never get up this early unless something tragic is happening."
Violet motioned towards the duffel bag weighing her frail shoulder down. "Laundry."
"Laundry?"
"Laundry," Violet reiterated with a faint smirk, "and since you're here, you can have the honor of deliverin' this bag to room number five."
YOU ARE READING
Sunbound
Romance"She had this thought. Not about choking hazards on children's toys or fatal car crashes, but a thought about how Skylar was not entirely a person. He was more like an ocean with violent currents; one of the seven seas with skin and bones and teeth...
