Chasing Mickey; A Novel by A. Wademan (WORK IN PROGRESS)

𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕦𝕖

I packed my bag, throwing in my phone, my clothes, my earbuds, a book, and my polaroid camera. Maya sits on the bed, scrolling through old photos of us on her camera roll. Now and then she would say something like, "Look at your braces! Hah!" or "Oh my GOD! I look like a monkey,".

"Mickey, look. It's my sixteenth," she chimed, holding out her phone, smiling sweetly. I focus on the picture. Maya's wearing her sister's hand-me-down light green, lacey sundress. Her hair is twisted up into intricate braids. Flower pins stick out in bunches. I'm wearing my acid-washed denim shorts and a button-down shirt, my black hair pulled back into a half up- half down hairstyle. I'm squeezing her, pressing my cheek against hers, both of us smiling. 

"Maya, we look like slugs, smushed together like that," I retort laughing.

"Cute slugs, mind you," she replies, pulling her phone back and smiling. I smile and mumble under my breath, turning to walk into the bathroom to grab my toothbrush, toothpaste, and hairbrush. And deodorant, of course. I grab what I need, then walk back into the bedroom.

Maya's laying back now, her phone face down, ringer off on the bed. Her arms are folded behind her head as she closes her eyes and sighs.

"You're just going for one night, right?" she asks, her face edged with fear. 

"Yea. Plus, you can still call me. I'll have my phone with me, so hopefully, I'll get some reception there," I reply. Suddenly my mother appears in the doorway. Her face is a little wrinkled, but her short hair is pulled up into a spiky ponytail, making her look childlike. Her baseball cap is folded in her left hand, her right press up against the doorframe. Her bulky black backpack is strapped across from strap to strap over her chest.

"I don't like the idea of you guys going to Fort De Soto Park at night," Maya grumbles, sitting up on the bed again, crossing her arms.

"Maya, it's a campsite. Nothing bad is going to happen. I'm sure plenty of other people will be there too. It's not like we're going there alone, in the dark, and against the rules. Literally, people do this all the time," I retort. Her constant worrying gets on my nerves, but today she seems especially anxious. 

"Yea Maya, we'll be alright," Mom says sweetly, eyeing me. I feel a pang of regret for talking to Maya like that. "Mickey, Dad's got the tent, cooler, and supplies in the trunk of the car. We're leaving soon, so hurry up, please."

I nod my head and double-check my bag as Mom walks into the living room, checking all the door locks. Once I'm satisfied with my results, I sling my bag over my shoulders, slide on my flip flops, and switch the ceiling and floor fans off. 

"C'mon, Maya, I gotta go," I chirp at her, waiting by the door. She reluctantly picks her phone up from my bed and walks over to me. Once I've quickly looked over my room and I'm sure that I have everything I need, I step into the hallway. Maya steps out behind me and shuts my door as I walk into the living room to look in the large mirror hanging above the small drawer beside the front door.

A funny feeling washes over my body as I begin to trace the ornate frame of the mirror with my eyes, almost reaching out to touch it and all of its antique grandeur. Suddenly, Maya clears her throat from beside me and snaps me out of whatever haze I had fallen into. I jump slightly, making her chuckle softly before she lays a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm gonna miss you, Micky," she sighs as she wraps her arms around my waist and pulls me into a hug. I feel as if I'm going to suffocate in her arms, but I quickly wrap mine around her shoulders. "I know," I say softly, "you've told me about a hundred times."

"Sorry Michelle," she teases, releasing me as my sister steps into the living room, her brightly colored Lilly Pulitzer bag slung over her shoulder and her circular teal sunglasses resting on her nose. 

"Ugh, I left my sunglasses at your house, Maya," I say under my breath, turning to look at her.

"That's okay. I guess it means I get to see you as soon as you come home so you can pick 'em up!" Maya replies, her voice light and sing-songy. I watch as her chestnut hair bounces on her shoulders as she steps away from me. "C'mon, you got somewhere to be, Mick."

"Yea, yea, I know," I say, a smile slowly inching its way across my face until I'm grinning brightly to myself as I follow her to the garage. Once we step out, my mom approaches us, her hands resting on the handlebars of Maya's bright blue Reid bike, her sticker-covered black helmet resting in the wicker basket at the front.

"Hey Maya, I thought you might want to ride this home since you left it here after the barbeque last weekend," my mom finally says, pushing the bike towards Maya a little bit so that she could take it.

"Oh yea, thanks, Mrs. Little. I don't think I'll ride it home today, but thanks again," Maya says as she takes the bike. We all look down at her knee where she had slid during a volleyball game so hard that it scraped it up horribly. I'm glad that she had it bandaged because just the sight of it made me cringe.

"Oh, right," my mom says, laughing a little as she walks back to the car to help my dad fit the last sleeping bag in the trunk. I shake my head and Maya giggles a little and we walk down the driveway to the sidewalk.

"I guess this is goodbye, dear friend," I say, sighing and holding out my hand. She playfully grabs it with one hand and shakes it violently, making us both laugh. "I guess so," she says after she pulls her hand away.

But how badly I want it to stay in my grasp.

"Farewell, mi amigo," she says, slightly curtsying.

"Amiga," I remind her as I bow, spinning my hand out towards her before tucking it under my chest as the sophisticated gentlemen do in those old movies and such.

"Whatever, I gotta go," Maya giggles, waving a hand at me. I stand back up and hold my hand out face up as she slaps hers on top and my father slams the trunk closed and gets in the car to wait. At that, I walk off to the garage and sling my bag off of my shoulder and into the middle seat of the back of the car. As I get into the car and pull the door shut, I realize that Maya hasn't left yet. As we pull out of the driveway, I watch her as she waves at our car until we've turned down the corner and she's out of sight.

But before she disappears, I watch her face and hand fall, her expression suddenly twisted in something close to pain.

I'm hoping that I can really stick with this story, unlike some others I've tried to write in the past. I hope this was an okay prologue, and I'll try and update this story as much as I can each week. If you've stuck around to read this, thank you! I appreciate that someone's actually reading my story!

Thanks again!

-A. W.