Coldwater, Wisconsin—Bumfuck Nowhere as I had christened it—was exactly what I expected it to be. Quaint and completely unremarkable. The Brooks lived on the outskirts, just beyond where businesses and backyards met the forest, and even though it was only a ten minute walk to the town square, I decided to take my car.
Main Street, appropriately named since there was only one main road, was lined with old brick buildings outfitted with green pinstriped awnings. All of the usual small town suspects were present: a butcher shop, a bakery, a family diner, and a hardware store. When I spotted the movie theater, which according to the sign only had one screen, I wanted to bash my head against the steering wheel in desperation. This place was so freaking small.
My GPS started to beep, telling me that I'd arrived at All Star Lanes, but the bowling alley was nowhere in sight. Ahead, all I could see was Color Me Crazy hair salon and a used bookstore.
"Stupid piece of junk," I grumbled, tossing my phone onto the passenger seat. I knew it wasn't really my phone's fault that Google Maps totally failed me; the cell service in the area was crappy. Ever since arriving at Ruby's, I had two bars at most.
Not knowing what else to do, I parked and hopped out, deciding to finish the rest of my search on foot. All Star couldn't be that hard to find considering it took all of five seconds to tour the whole of Coldwater. Worst case scenario, I'd ask someone for directions.
There was a parking meter to feed, and as I dug through my purse in search of change, my skin started to prickle, almost as if I was being watched. Sure enough, when I looked up, I caught more than one curious local staring at me, and all the muscles in my body tensed. Back home, I was used to this kind of unwanted attention. After the accident with Elliot, the kids at school stared at me openly and didn't bother to whisper when they gossiped. I quickly learned to ignore it, and at any rate, I was too checked out most of the time to care. But I didn't expect that same scrutiny here, where nobody knew my story or even who I was for that matter, and I didn't realize until now how much I was looking forward to my anonymity. Of course, that was exactly why people were staring—nobody had a clue who I was, and in a town this small, everybody probably knew everybody.
Just because they're staring doesn't mean they know the truth, I had to remind myself. There was no way these people knew that I was the girl who let Elliot drive home drunk. They had no knowledge of my faults or my past. To them, I was just an unfamiliar face. And Elliot? Here, he was nonexistent.
After taking a deep breath, I pushed back my hair, squared my shoulders, and started down the sidewalk in what I hoped was the correct direction. I'd only gone a block before the colorful front display of a candy store caught my eye. There were rows of caramel apples and chocolate dipped strawberries, and glass jars filled with a rainbow of lollipops, but it was the help wanted sign taped to the window that made me pause. Working at a place with an endless supply of sugar would probably be bad for my waist line, but it sounded a hell of a lot better than some smokey bowling alley.
Before I could change my mind, I pulled back the door and stepped inside. The first thing I noticed was that the entire store smelled of hazelnut and salt water taffy, and I drew in a lungful of the mouthwatering scent as I glanced around the room. Then I noticed the dark-haired girl who was standing behind the counter. She was short, but not as short as me, and had cheeks that dimpled as she smiled.
"Hi, welcome to Kandy Kane," she said. "You must be Evelyn."
The smile on my face went stiff. "Wow, not creepy at all that you know my name," I told her. I didn't mean to come off as rude, but hearing a complete stranger say my name was freaky in a horror movie sort of way.
The girl laughed. "My mom and Ruby are good friends. She mentioned her goddaughter was moving in, and since I don't recognize you, I figured you must be her," she explained. "I'm Sophia Kane by the way. Nice to meet you."
Although her greeting had caught me off guard, I had to admit that Sophia sounded genuine. Maybe I needed to ease off the sarcasm.
"Yeah, nice to meet you too." I paused for a moment and then asked, "So... is it really that obvious that I'm not from around here?"
Offering me an apologetic smile, she nodded. "Let me put it this way—I've had class with the same thirty kids since kindergarten, and you're definitely not one of them. Everyone is going to be so excited to meet you."
"Excited?" I repeated. She made it sound like I was some kind of celebrity. That or a freak in the circus.
"Well, duh." She was laughing as if I said something hilarious. "You heard me when I said I've been stuck with the same thirty kids my entire life, right? It was huge news when Briella moved here. First new kid in our school ever. You'll be just as big of a story."
This time, my smile faltered before giving way to a frown.
Back in January, coverage of the accident had been all over the local news stations, not to mention the articles that were printed in every single paper. I didn't want to be anyone's story here in Coldwater. I'd been that before, and speaking from experience, it sucked major balls.
"I won't be going to school here. I've already graduated," I told her. "I'm only staying for the summer. Ruby's making me get a job."
Sophia stared at me, her face blank, so I pointed at the help wanted sign.
"Oh, right!" she exclaimed, suddenly animated again. "You're here for the open position. Normally my older sister Malee is around to help out, but this summer she decided to stay at university and take classes, so my dad thought it was time to hire another employee."
Her explanation was more information than I needed, but I nodded to be polite. "Does that mean I can have an application?"
"You don't need an application," she said and waved her hand. "You can start tomorrow morning if you want."
"But... you don't even know me," I said, not sure how else to respond. Don't get me wrong, I wanted the job and I was wholeheartedly grateful that I wouldn't have to go through the stress of an interview, but I was struggling to believe that Sophia was willing to hire me on the spot.
"I know Ruby," she said, shrugging. "That's good enough for me."
Her reasoning didn't make sense—Ruby was a good person and I was her goddaughter, so therefore I was a good person by default? It was a ridiculous assumption, especially considering Ruby hardly knew me, but maybe that was just how things were done in small towns.
I studied Sophia for a moment longer, trying to figure her out, but the too sweet smile on her face only stumped me. Sighing, I shook my head and gave in. "All right, if you say so. What time do I start?"
"Bright and early," she said. I didn't think it was possible for her smile to get any bigger, but she beamed at me. "Be here by seven."
***
After leaving Kandy Kane, I decided to go to the grocery store and pick up some food for dinner. From what I'd gathered in my short time with the Brooks—the empty, disgusting fridge and Briella's snide comments—Ruby wasn't one to cook, which was strange for me. Growing up, my mom did all the cooking in our home. I always loved watching her work, whether she was chopping up onions and peppers on the cutting board or kneading dough for my favorite homemade bread.
As I got older, my mom started to give me little jobs like washing the produce or stirring the pot on the stove, and by the time I was in high school I could whip up difficult dishes like cheese soufflé, beef wellington, and baked alaska with relative ease. Cooking had become a comfort, a way for me to relax, but after the accident everything changed; instead of helping me cope, hours spent in the kitchen only gave me time to think about Elliot and dwell on how we'd been torn apart. So I gave it up, threw in my apron so to say.
I hadn't made anything more complicated than Ramen noodles since, but there was no way I could live on granola bars for the rest of the summer. The Brooks' pantry seemed to be stocked with them, along with boxes of frozen dinners in the freezer. And that was why, after not touching a knife or spatula for months, I was making lasagna. Besides the obvious reason that I wanted to eat something other than Lean Cuisine, I figured cleaning out the fridge, restocking it with real food, and preparing a nice homemade meal would be the best way for me to thank the Brooks for putting up with me, regardless of the fact that I didn't want to be here.
As I was pulling my cheesy, tomatoey masterpiece out of the oven, I heard the clomping of multiple sets of feet up the porch steps. Seconds later, the front door banged open.
"Yo, B," I heard a guy say. "Is it just me, or does your house smell like... food?"
"Don't be ridiculous," a girl answered, and I immediately recognized Briella's voice. "You know my mom can't cook."
"No, for real," the guy responded. His speech was slow, and he drew out each word like he had all the time in the world. "Smells like Italian."
"Seriously, Turtle? How high are you?" Briella asked as she stepped into the kitchen. She was looking back at a group of guys who filed in behind her. "Ruby's more likely to blow up the house than make dinner." Laughing at her own joke, she turned and caught sight of me standing behind the counter, oven mitts on and a pan of steaming lasagna at my side.
"Um, hi," I said, awkwardly waving my polkadot clad hand at the group of strangers. "I hope your mom doesn't mind, but I took the liberty of stocking the fridge and making dinner."
Without a word or any indication as to what she was thinking, Briella strode over to the oven, bent over the pan, and took a long sniff. Her eyes widened and then she took a quick step back to stare at me.
"You made this?" she asked.
"Well, yeah," I said. "It wasn't complicated."
"Told you, B," said the guy called Turtle. The first thing I noticed about him was dark blond hair that fell past his chin and bloodshot eyes. Then, and I don't know how this escaped my attention at first glance, I saw the tattoos. They were colorful and cartoon like, covering both of his arms like the sleeves of a shirt. Turtle rubbed his stomach. "When it comes to food, my nose is never wrong."
But Briella didn't hear her friend. A look of amazement had crossed her face, like I single handedly cooked Thanksgiving dinner for all of America. "Can we have some?"
"Well, I made it for dinner," I said, not quite sure why I was hesitating. "But sure, I guess you can eat now."
"Hell yeah!" she exclaimed, already opening one of the cabinets and pulling down a stack of plates. "Who wants a piece?"
All of Briella's friends chimed in, and I had to take a step back as they swarmed around the stovetop. By the time she finished cutting up the lasagna and serving her friends, only half the pan was left. They all sat down at the kitchen table and dug in.
"Oly uck its ot!" gasped one of the guys as he fanned the food in his mouth. He was hot in a varsity quarterback sort of way with light brown skin and dark eyes surrounded by long, sweeping lashes. One look at his Captain-of-Every-Fucking-Sports-Team build and I was willing to bet there were washboard abs hiding beneath his shirt.
"Yeah, dumbass," said another. He was a scrawny guy with chestnut hair and complexion so pale I wondered if he was allergic to the sun. I would have guessed he was around fourteen if not for his multiple face piercings; there was a bridge piercing, two studs in his eyebrows, a septum piercing, and a ring in his bottom lip. "That's normally what happens when you cook food."
Snorting at her friends, Briella carved away a small bite of lasagna with her fork. I watched as she blew on the chunk before tentatively opening her mouth. After a few seconds of chewing, she closed her eyes and collapsed back into the chair.
"Oh my God," she groaned. "This stuff is the definition of a foodgasm. Evelyn you're an amazing cook."
"Thanks," I said with a curt nod. Then I turned away from the table, grabbed a sponge from the sink, and ran it under warm water. There was a mess for me to clean up, and I wanted it done before Ruby came down to the kitchen.
"What are you doing?" Briella asked as I squeezed out some dish soap. "Aren't you going to eat?"
"No, I should really get this cleaned up before your mom is done working."
"If you haven't noticed, my mom is the opposite of a clean freak. You just spent God knows how long cooking, so there's a zero percent chance she'll care about a few dirty pots." Briella paused, glanced at her friends, and then said, "Um... you can sit with us if you want."
I opened my mouth with the intention of declining, but then my stomach rumbled. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until I actually smelled my creation. What I really wanted to do was grab a piece of lasagna, curl up in bed and finish my mom's book, but Briella was actually being amicable. If I had to spend the entire summer living with her, I should probably make an effort to be friendly. We didn't have to be actual friends—positive acknowledgment was fine with me.
"Yeah, sure," I said, nodding my head. "Let me just finish cleaning this pot."
A few seconds later, I turned off the faucet and grabbed a plate from the cabinet. After cutting myself a huge slice and finding a fork, I turned back toward the table. There was only one place left to sit, a small spot on the window seat next to the boy named Turtle.
"Guys, this is Evelyn. Evelyn," she said and gestured toward her friends, "the guys."
"Hey," Turtle said as I sat down next to him. There was a lazy grin on his face. "I'm Turtle."
What a stupid name, I thought. Maybe it fit his personality, but seriously? "Did your parents actually name you that?"
Briella let out an unattractive snort, which seemed to be a habit of hers. "No, that's just what we call him. His real name is—" She paused, eyebrows wrinkled together as she tried to remember, and then turned to her friend. "Turtle, what is your real name?"
Turtle slowly opened his mouth to answer, but the guy with the piercings beat him to it. "It's Daniel," Piercings said, sighing heavily. When I looked over at him, he nodded at me. "I'm Henry by the way."
"Nice to meet you." I offered him a quick, uncomfortable smile. I knew it wasn't nice of me to judge, but people with so many piercings made me uneasy. Seriously, why would anyone want to poke holes in their face?
Finally I turned to the last guy, the one with beautiful eyes. "And you are?"
"The only person you need to remember," he said and winked. Normally, anything resembling a pickup line turned me off, but this boy was smiling at me in a way that was so charming that I actually smiled back. "I'm Zuke."
"Zuke?" I repeated to make sure I'd heard him right. What's up with these strange names? I wouldn't be surprised if Briella confessed that her real name was Rudolph or Pineapple.
"It's not as ridiculous as Turtle," Zuke said, glancing at his friend, "but people are always curious. It's a family name, short for Zucheous."
"That's definitely... unique," I said carefully, not wanting to insult him. Clearly I was more transparent than I thought, because everyone laughed, Zuke the loudest.
"So Evelyn," Henry said then, setting down his fork. "Briella said you're spending the summer here. How come?"
My chest sank at his question. To lie or not to lie? On one hand, if I was honest, I would get exactly what I wanted—to be left alone—because once people knew my past and why I was the way I was, they tended to give me space. Sure, they pitied me, but no one wanted to be around a constant raincloud. On the other hand, if I withheld the truth, I could avoid the pity; I loathed it, not for the usual reasons like wounded pride, but because I didn't deserve other peoples' compassion.
There were four pairs of eyes on me waiting for an answer, and under their scrutiny, I knew I didn't have the guts to spill my real story. "My mom is one of those Martha Stewart ladies. Always redecorating and stuff," I said. I'd prepared this lie before coming to Coldwater, knowing that it might come in handy. "This summer she decided to remodel our entire house, so my family is living in a hotel. I didn't want to deal with the chaos, so Ruby offered to take me in."
Briella raised an eyebrow as if she knew otherwise. I waited for her to call me out, but she shrugged and said nothing. It took me half a second to realize she was paying me back for last night—I hadn't told Ruby about Fletcher sneaking into the house, so now she would keep my secret. I acknowledged her silence with a slight nod, glad that we were now even.
Zuke, however, didn't pick up on any of this. "Maybe your mom should move here instead. This house needs a remodel more than yours probably does," he said. "Ruby has so many unfinished projects laying around. She needs to channel some of that Martha Stewart too."
"Did I hear my name?" Ruby asked, suddenly sweeping into the kitchen, her skirt swishing around her ankles. She looked over at us, a knowing grin on her face, but then she cocked her head. "Holy smoke," she said, inhaling a deep breath. "What is that delicious smell?"
"Evelyn cooked dinner, Mom," Briella said as she licked some cheese off her fork. "Apparently some people actually do that."
Ruby gave her daughter a look before turning to me with a wide smile. "Evelyn, sweetheart. You didn't need to do that."
"It was my pleasure, Ruby," I said, even though I was really thinking: I'm not in the mood for granola bars, so yeah, I did.
"But you shouldn't have gone to the trouble of cooking for us," she said. By the way she was glancing over at the stove, looking to see what I'd made, I knew she was secretly glad I did. "Lasagna?" she exclaimed when she got closer. "Where did you even get the ingredients for that?"
"Um," I said, and cleared my throat. "I noticed the fridge was empty this morning, and since I was already out, I decided to run to the grocery store. I hope you don't mind."
For a split second, Ruby said nothing. Then her face went red. "Oh my goodness, I feel horrible. I was planning on going sometime soon, but I completely forgot and..." She trailed off and shook her head. "You're an angel, Evelyn. How can I thank you?"
"Just have a piece of lasagna, Ruby," I urged her. I wanted this conversation to be over so everyone would stop staring at me. "It really isn't a big deal." When I said this, her eyes glistened, and in that moment, I knew this was a big deal to her. But instead of protesting further, Ruby grabbed a plate of food and settled against the counter to eat.
"Dear lord," she said when she took her first bite. "This is a first class food orgasm."
Turtle immediately exploded with laughter. "Dude," he said between laughs. "I've never heard an old person say orgasm before."
Ruby pointed her fork at him. "You better not call me old in my own house, Turtle," she said, using his stupid nickname. "I prefer the term middle aged. Besides, there's nothing wrong with a so-called old person talking about orgasms. It's a perfectly natural bodily function."
"Kill me now," Briella whispered to Zuke and Henry, burying her face in her hands. "I don't know what's more humiliating: the fact that my mom and I said the same thing, or that she just used the words bodily and function."
This entire situation was making my stomach feel tight, and I started twisting the gold band—a Claddagh ring Elliot gave me for our three year anniversary—around my finger. Everyone here had such big personalities, and I felt myself shrinking away. Under normal circumstances, I'd consider myself a pretty outgoing person, but after months of keeping to myself, I felt like a shy kid forced to go to a kegger. I'd hung around for what I hoped was a polite amount of time, and now I couldn't get away fast enough.
"Well," I said, standing up and clearing my plate from the table. "I'm glad everyone liked the food, but I've got some, um—unpacking and other stuff to do."
"Do you need help?" Ruby offered.
"No," I said a little too quickly. "I'll be fine."
"Okay then. Just let me know if you do. Thank you so much for dinner."
"Yeah," Briella chimed in. "Dinner was amazing. You're seriously my hero."
"Hey," Henry said to her, pretending to look upset. "I thought that was me?" She rolled her eyes in response, but there was a light pink blush spotting her cheeks.
"Nice meeting you guys," I said, offering Turtle, Zuke, and Henry a small wave.
"See you around, Evelyn," Zuke responded, a sly smile playing on his lips, but I was out the door and down the hallway before anyone else could say goodbye.
***
Hey friends,
As always, thank you so much for reading.
Open hunting season on typos!