In Too Deep

Chapter 2

But that same night, I never saw my parents. I last remember them lying on the ground unconscious. When I arrived at the hospital, I caught word that they have passed long before I got there. I was an orphan until my aunt and uncle had to come and get me from Montana. They had me move to Texas when I was nearing nine. I was raised there until I was eighteen. I graduated high school and then packed my bags to move to Atlanta.

I still have the car. The car is the only remembrance of my childhood. A '70 Chevelle. That was always my dad's dream car. I would work on that car day and night. But she was finally up and running. I would cruise the streets for hours, proud of the hard work I've pulled through. Working on this car was the only escape reality. It was the main memory of my dad. It's like his soul is in the car because I don't feel alone when I drive.

The police still have not found the culprit for the murder of my parents. They gave up barely after a week. Everyone was changing around me. I was getting more sympathy, more condolences. It all happened so quick. The life changing events of a ten-year-old. I was gone in less than a week. Depression struck when I was just twelve. There was no help about it. Gotta fight the good fight. There really is no escape. If something was holding you back, there's no way they're gonna let you go.

I've had my demons. I even had the devil sit on my shoulder. I had them tell me to end everything. My parents died and honestly, there was nothing to keep me here. Just the old Chevelle. Ageing away in a cramped, one car garage. That was all I had. Really there is no point, is there? No one to come and help me when I needed it. I was practically an eleven-year-old taking care of herself. But I'm older now. Learning from those past mistakes.

That night was the beginning of my never-ending journey of new life. It seemed as if there was no stopping. I lived my alone. My aunt and uncle were never home. When I got old enough, I just started working on the Chevelle. But here I am. Alive. I never thought I would make it out of the darkness that surrounded me. I moved out of my aunt's house as soon as I turned eighteen. My life was looking up then. My depression was finally clearing. It was still there, but I don't think about anything negative much like I used to.

Today I was out, working out in the garage. The Chevelle is still a work in progress. She's up and running, but there's still much more that needs to be done. She needs a new paint job desperately. The 'SS' emblem on the grill was missing. I remember when my dad first bought the car. It didn't run, all the parts were missing. There was no transmission and there was no engine. This was pretty much a "roller" car. My dad was a mechanic when I was growing up. But then the fire took him away.

As I was working under the car, I heard someone pulling up on the driveway. I pulled myself out under the jacked-up car and sat up, wiping my hands an already dirty rag. I turned my back away from the opened garage door and looked through my tools.

"Are you ever going to give yourself a break?" Someone asked me.

I looked over my shoulder and saw my friend Lindsey smiling. "Maybe, maybe not. Not quite sure yet."

"Well, she's coming along," Lindsey walked around the car. "Can we take her for a drive later?"

I shrugged. "I'm still adding some last-minute parts. Maybe sometime next week."

Lindsey nodded. "How about we go out for some lunch? It's my treat."

I nodded in approval. "Just let me clean myself up."

I closed the garage door and I went into the house. Lindsey followed behind me. She went to go sit on one of the chairs in the living room as I went up to take a shower. I peeled off my sweaty clothes and wrapped a towel around myself as I headed to the bathroom.

When the shower was done, I towel dried my hair and put on some fresh clothes. I headed downstairs and Lindsey was still in the same spot.

"Ready to go?" I asked and she looked at me.

"Of course." Lindsey got up and then we made our way down to the diner.

The place we went to is probably the most unique in Atlanta. It is a 1950s-styled diner. They still have the red leather bar stools and black and white checkered floors.

"So, I have a question." Lindsey said after we ordered our food.

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Why haven't you finished that car yet? You've had for how many years?"

No one ever really asked me that question. "My dad had it for a year before he died. So I've had it for thirteen years. I haven't been able to work on it until I was sixteen."

Lindsey stayed silent after that, knowing that question hurt a little. And then I noticed her looking somewhere behind me. Her eyes keep looking back and forth from me to someplace else. I looked to where she is staring. Rolling my eyes, I looked back at her.

"Oh come on Nova! When are you ever gonna see a guy that cute?"

I scoffed. "Please. No guy is ever going to like a girl who spends majority of the day on her car."

"Well," she held the 'e'. "You never know. A lot of guys love girls who work on cars. He's lookin' at you right now." She smirked at me.

I wanted to go hide. "I'm not going to talk to him."

"Okay then. I'll do it for you." She got up from her seat.

"No, Linds!" I screamed/whispered.

She did it anyways. My face felt like it was on fire. I didn't even bother looking over. The waitress came with our food. As soon as she left, Lindsey came back. And she had the guy with her. She had a big smile on her face.

"Well Preston, I would like you to meet my friend Nova. Nova, this is Preston."

I muttered 'hey' and looked away embarrassed.

The guy looked as awkward as I felt. Lindsey told him to head back to where he was before.

"Why did you do that?" I asked her as she started eating.

"He doesn't seem half bad. Have you ever had a boyfriend?"

"No." I felt the blush rise to my cheeks. "I've never had any friends besides you. Besides I'm not even looking for anyone."

"I can already tell you'd be great with each other."

I groaned and played around with my straw. Could this day get any more embarrassing?