Blurred Lines

Chapter Two

"Brianna Avery! Let's go!" Bri's mom hollered from the garage where my dad and her were talking. Bri was the last one at the party and the evening had drifted into night, cooling the air until Dad lit the tiki torches. We were sitting in the plastic chairs beside the pool, huddled in our towels and waiting for our parents to finish talking.

"Coming Mom!" Bri shouted back. She stood up, pulling up her shorts and stuffing her head in her shirt. She stuck her towel and her goggles in her bag.

"Thank you so much for the invite." Bri wrapped me in a hug. "The party was so much fun, and I know everyone enjoyed it." She popped a couple of chocolate candies in her mouth before we went out onto the driveway.

"Ready to go?" Mrs. Avery asked. She looped her keys through her finger and grabbed Bri's bag. "Put your shoes on before we go to the car."

"So we'll see you next Friday for dinner?" Mrs. Avery asked my dad. Our families were friends so we hung out together often. Mom and Mrs. Avery met at a cycling class, then Bri and I became friends at one of our dinners, and the rest is history.

Dad nodded. "I have to check with Jen about it again, but I'm pretty sure we're good to go. Let us know what you want us to bring."

"A vegetable tray is probably fine." She shrugged and looked at Bri. "Alright, ready?"

Bri nodded and they said their goodbyes.

"Thanks for coming!" I yelled after them and waved, watching as they both turned and waved.

Dad went over to the table and started stacking up bowls. "Can you put all of the pool toys away please?"
"Yup." I fished out some of the noodles floating on the water, but had to dive in for the torpedoes that had sunk to the bottom of the deep end. By the time I had collected all the toys and put them away, Dad had brought all of the dishes inside and was in the middle of snuffing out the tiki torch flames.

"Thanks for tonight Dad!" I wrapped myself in my towel. "Everyone said they had a lot of fun."

"Of course, punkin'." He smiled, using the nickname he'd given me when I was little. "Now go take a shower, I'll be inside in a few minutes."

I ran inside and took a shower, elated with how the night went. I was always a little anxious when I invited a group of people over because I wanted them all to have fun, and was always nervous that they weren't. But tonight, everyone had fun. We played pool games, talked about the school year, our plans for the summer. It was a great way to end the school year and kick off the summer.

I laid my wet swimsuit over the side of the tub to dry overnight and changed into my pjs, brushed my teeth, and brushed out my tangled hair.

"Ready for bed, Blair?" Dad shouted from outside the bathroom door. I opened the door to see him walking back from his room dressed in his pjs.

"Yeah, I'm ready." I ran into my room and slid under the covers.

Dad came in, kneeling next to my bed and we said prayers. Then he tucked me in, kissed my cheek, and turned off the light.

"Night Blair."

"Night Dad."

****

"Blair! Get up!" Dad shouted and flipped on the light, swinging my door open so hard that it hit the wall.

I shot up, blinking my eyes against the blaring light. "What? What's the matter?"

He ran back down the hall to his room, yelling, "Get dressed! We're leaving in three minutes!"

"Dad! What's going on?" My heart started to beat a little faster as my mind drifted to the worst case scenarios. I threw on shorts, a t- shirt, and my sneakers and sprinted down the hall. Dad was already downstairs with the keys.

"Let's go!"

"I'm coming!" I followed him down the stairs and into the garage where he had started the car. The garage door was slowly climbing up its tracks and I slid in the front seat, slamming the car door shut. I had barely put on my seatbelt by the time Dad had reversed out of the driveway.

He was acting so strange, it made my nerves spike my heartbeat and my mouth feel like sandpaper. His hand shook as he pressed the button to put the garage door down. The time was 3:37 AM.

"Dad," I croaked, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. My dad's usual rock music began to drift through the radio, and I reached forward to turn down the volume. "Dad, what's going on?"

He gave me a pained look, as though he was dreading having to tell me. "It's your mom."

"What about her?" I felt sick. The speedometer needle climbed up the scale of numbers, passing the legal speed limit.

"The hospital called. Your mom," he hesitated, as if it was physically hurting him to force out the words. "She was in a really bad car accident."

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- Payton