Second Chances

Chapter 8

"You are free to make your own choices, but you are not free to choose the consequences." - Unknown

 Mel, one of my old friends from Brighton, was highly superstitious. She was a huge believer of the infamous Love At First Sight, throwing salt over her shoulder if a salt shaker tipped over, and having some sort of lucky charm with her, always. She had this thing with Fate and how Everything Happens for a Reason and that Fate can be altered, but not changed.

            There was something else she believed in too, something that didn't stick with me when she talked about it, presumably because it wasn't that interesting at the time. But I could see it now, on my vibrating phone with the screen flashing the name DIANA in all caps. It was right there, in my hand . . . flashing.

            My Second Chance.

            I stared at it—the screen, the name, whatever you want to call it, with mixed emotions. I could make out the shock, plain as day, and the nagging apprehension, but the most surprising of them all, was the relief. It poured over me in buckets, the kind of pure relief that you don't feel often; the kind that was even more refreshing than having a tall glass of cold water after running miles in the heat. It was the relief that touched your soul.

            And then it was gone, along with the vibrating and the flashing and the DIANA in all caps, it. Was. Gone. And even though I was alone in my room and the buzzing sound had ceased, it wasn't silent. No, my blood was roaring in my ears and I could hear my breaths as if I was breathing into a microphone. Not only that but I was dizzy and confused and now depressed since it seemed like that Second Chance went out the window.

            After a moment of staring down at the darkened screen of my phone, I finally untangled myself from my dizzy stupor and fumbled with my phone, attempting to unlock the screen and redial the number. I nearly dropped the phone three times before I finally had it against my ear with the dial tone ringing. There were two rings and a click and then;

            "Waverly?"

            At which time I replied;

            "Uh yeah, it's me. Sorry, I couldn't find my phone," I lied as I stood up and made my way to my bed. When I sat down, it squeaked.

            "That's fine dear, how are you? Are you settling in okay?"

            I smiled to myself, thinking of how much I missed Diana, Mel's mom, and how kind she was and how she always knew what to say and what not to say and the fact that she called everyone 'dear' no matter how old they were.

            "Yes, I think we are doing just fine."

            "Well that's lovely. I don't mean to bug you on a school night, but I really need your help."

            I furrowed my eyebrows. What could I possibly help her with?

            "With what?"

            "Well Gwen has pneumonia and I have a shoot with no model and everyone else is unavailable. I was just thinking of how you and the girls would do shoots for me. I mentioned this to the photographer and he said he would love for you to come up here and be our model."

            I blinked. That was not what I was expecting. To be honest, I had no idea what to expect, but this, was not even close.

            "Now don't say anything just yet. I know that Brighton is a half-hour away from Westfield and that it is, in fact, a school night, but I figured that if you leave now, by the time you get done with the shoot and drive back home, it would only be ten o'clock." I could tell that she had her best negotiating tone going. "Waverly, dear, I know it's a lot to ask, but I really need your help with this. I know that you and Mel aren't on the best of terms at the moment, but she won't be there, I promise. It will just be me, the stylists, and the photographers. Now what do you say?"

            I honestly didn't know what to say. It felt like it had been forever since I last modeled with Mel and the girls from our clique in Brighton. The shoots were always fun, but I'd be doing this one by myself, and not only that, but on a school night as well.

            I pictured Diana in my mind; her petite frame and curled blonde hair and kind smile. I could see the pleading in her eyes and her lips forming the word 'please' over and over again. She had never asked me for much since I'd known her, and she did so much for me and Terrance and my Dad. She kept us from falling apart after Mom died.

            Again the picture of her pleading eyes flashed in my mind and I found my walls crumbling. One night of disobedience wouldn't kill me.

            "Okay," I told Diana as I stood up and grabbed my purse. "I'll do it."