The Photograph (Eastbrook 1)

Chapter 1

Rachel wasn’t a morning person, but unlike most other days, she didn’t mind the seven o’clock alarm. This wasn’t an ordinary day; it was Rachel’s sixteenth birthday.  

Rachel had been dreaming of her sixteenth birthday since she was twelve. She blamed her excitement on her grandfather, Papa. One warm spring Saturday after she’d cut the grass, Papa had sparked her excitement to drive. Their backyard wasn’t quite big enough to justify a riding lawn mower, but Papa loved his tools and toys. Instead of putting the riding lawn mower away, Rachel turned the blades off, put the mower on high speed, and raced around the backyard using the trees as an obstacle course. When the lawnmower started slowing down, she knew the gas was running low, so she drove the tractor into the garage to refill. Papa was waiting for her in the garage, with a big grin on his face and his truck keys in hand.  

“Rachel, it’s time for you to take a real drive.”

“Really?” Rachel asked as she jumped off the tractor. 

“Yes. C’mon, let’s go before I change my mind,” Papa said. He opened the door for Rachel to his brand-new Chevy Silverado. Rachel hopped into the driver’s seat while her grandfather climbed into the passenger seat. Before Papa handed over the keys, he gave Rachel strict instructions on acceleration, braking, and turning. Rachel was so excited she didn’t hear any of his advice, but she knew she had to be careful; she might not survive the day if a scratch appeared on Papa’s truck. She put it in reverse and reached her leg for the gas pedal, but she couldn’t reach it. 

“You can move the seat up with the lever,” Papa said. Embarrassed, Rachel moved the seat forward before attempting to back out on to the street. She would never admit it to Papa, but she was scared. 

Papa continued to voice instructions to her as she drove through the neighborhood. Gradually, her shoulders relaxed, and she settled in. Being behind the wheel was freeing; she felt like she could fly away to a new life. 

After twenty minutes of circling the neighborhood, Papa told her to pull into the driveway. 

“Not bad,” he said. “Although next time, maybe we can go a little faster than fifteen miles per hour.”

“There will be a next time?” Rachel asked. 

“Maybe,” he said. “If you don’t bug me about it.” 

Papa kept his promise, and every few months they went for a spin. Rachel loved those moments of driving. And after the second drive, she went upstairs to her room and found a calendar. She calculated the days remaining until her sixteenth birthday, wrote the number on a sticky note, and stuck it on her desk next to the basketball trophy she’d won with her tournament team two years before. From that day forward, Rachel had updated the countdown every day.  The countdown had finally reached zero.

Rachel walked down the stairs, through the living room, and into the kitchen. Her grandmother, Nana, was waiting for her with a birthday breakfast: blueberry pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon. With a big smile, Nana asked, “Are you ready for the big day?”

“You know I am,” Rachel replied as she sat down. She loved breakfast food, especially Nana’s breakfast. Her pancakes were fluffy and light, the best in town.

“Ready to go?” Papa asked as he entered the kitchen. As always, Papa was wearing a green plaid button-up shirt to match his green eyes, with a Cleveland Indians baseball cap covering his jet-black hair. 

“Just about,” Rachel said. She took two more bites and then put the plate in the dishwasher.

Rachel grabbed the truck keys from Papa. She was taking the driver’s test in the same 2002 Chevy Silverado she’d driven for the first time with Papa four years ago. Papa wouldn’t let her test in Nana’s car; he said if Rachel passed in the truck, she could drive anything.