When All is Null and Void

Chapter Twenty-Two

"I think that sounds like a good idea." Her dad shouted this as he walked upstairs.

Normally Danielle wasn't a fan of feeling forced to do anything. She wasn't sure she wanted to show Caitlyn she cared, but she couldn't think of any reason why she shouldn't hang out. She'd finished her homework last night. Sliding her phone out of her pocket, Danielle typed a message to Caitlyn:

Hey! Wanna go to the mall today? I know it's kinda lame lately, but Bath and Body Works has some new scents out. CANDLES!

Her dad came stomping down the stairs, shoes on, but holding a pair of neon dress socks with a ragged hole in them. "Pretty sure Starbuck got a hold of these," he said, disappointment lacing his tone.

"Oh no!" Alisha said, grabbing hold of the socks from her dad's hand. "I guess we gotta throw them out." She sounded sad enough about it, but Danielle wasn't sure Starbuck had gotten hold of them by accident, because she saw a glimmer of a smirk on her mom's face as she dumped them in the trash. Supportive only went so far, she guessed.

"Should we get going?" Her dad grabbed the car keys from the drawer next to the sink. "Don't want to hit traffic." He gave Danielle a light kiss on the head. "Love you!"

And off he went. Her mom followed with a similar goodbye and a, "We'll be back sometime around three or four."

Like that, Danielle sat in the quiet house, wriggling her toes as they hung above the ground. Starbuck waddled in for a moment, sniffed the floor for some treats, then retreated to the warmth and comfort of Danielle's bedroom.

Her phone silently lit up in her hand.

Sure! Wanna get coffee first at 11?

Danielle replied the affirmative and then set her phone down on the counter and walked into the living room. It was only 8:30, so she had plenty of time to do anything. But instead she lay on the couch, deciding nothing was better than anything at the moment. She lay in quiet for maybe three minutes before turning on the tv to listen to some cooking show with a famous actress as the host.

She'd never been sure how being famous made you an expert on cooking, and most of the time the food they made didn't look all that appetizing. "I think she just likes to prove she can sing," Danielle said to Starbuck, who had come from her room again and snuggled next to her.

He replied with a long snore-groan.

Danielle glanced at her dog and smiled, overcome with an odd urge to rub his belly and utter words that didn't exist in any language. She held off, if only because she often found herself with the feeling someone was watching her, and that wasn't a good feeling.

For the next two hours she lay there, staring at the TV with interest, knowing all the food looked good, but knowing her parents wouldn't try to make anything quite so delicious looking. She could totally try to make it herself, but her own abilities in the kitchen were dismal—a trait she would admit to without any objection.

At 10:30, Danielle took Bucky to her room and laid him on the bed. He rolled over on his belly and watched her close the door. He was so well-behaved she trusted he wouldn't chew anything up. She took the keys from the kitchen counter and walked to her parents' other car, the one reserved for her use on the weekends. It was a light blue Volkswagen Bug with a black, convertible top that looked a little shabby after so many years of Oregon winters. Only late September, Danielle blasted the heat. It was going to be one of thoseyears. The kind where it got cold and gray early, and the normal February blues everyone got would hit by December. Danielle sighed a little, not out of melancholy or anything like that, but as a means of shaking off the slight fatigue that had settled over her while watching TV.

She hit every green light in town and was feeling particularly high-spirited by the time she pulled into a parking spot outside of the Starbucks her and Caitlyn always spent time in when they were younger, before they'd started pulling away from each other. She hadn't seen her friend's car, so she sent a message saying she'd stake out a spot—the bar, where they could talk to the baristas; well, she would talk, and Caitlyn would flirt. Before getting out of her car, though, she let the Katy Perry song playing through the aux cord finish. She couldn't bring herself to stop songs halfway through; it just wasn't right.

She zipped up her off-brand rain jacket as she walked into the shop. A young, homeless man sat outside muttering something about sparing change. Smiling bracingly, she knew she could have procured a few dollars for the guy. She always shied away from it though, and she had never been sure if it was because she was slightly selfish, or if she was a nervous nelly. Maybe a little bit of both. Probably both.

A chill wiggled through her at the sudden change of atmosphere. She tripped in the doorway. Somehow she always ended up doing that, no matter how long she'd been walking. It was these boots she was wearing, with their thick, rubbery soles. All they ever did—

She didn't finish that thought.

In her hyper-focused state, Danielle neglected to actually make sure no one was in front of her. She walked straight into a boy her age with thick, black glasses and curly, sandy-blond hair. She was face-to-face with him, since he wasn't very tall, and the look of pure surprise in his features accentuated tiny red patches on either cheek.

"I'm so sorry," he said, grabbing her by the elbows gently. A jolt went through her where his bare hand slid against hers, and she chided herself.

"No, no, you're okay." She smiled and immediately noticed someone standing behind the boy she'd bumped into. He was far enough away she couldn't tell if he and the boy were together or not, but he seemed familiar to her in that vague sort of manner. Almost like deja vu. The moment passed and she turned to look the she'd run into. "Floors can be very interesting." She grimaced now, aware at how awkward that statement was.

The boy let out a little grunt laugh. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Have a good day!" she said, side-stepping him and walking toward the barista at the front.