“Where the hell did you go?” Asks Cara, as she and Tristan walk through my bedroom door, sit down on my bed and wait for my answer.
Blushing, I realize that I’d forgotten to text her to tell her what was up. “I’m so sorry, Cara. I swear, I had every intention of texting you, but I got kind of caught up in the hanging out with Cael. He’s…” I search for a word, “different.”
Tristan raises his hand as if he was in class, and I have to laugh at the sheepish look on his face. “Should I not be here right now?”
“No! I mean, no you shouldn’t not be here right now…I mean you can stay!” I say awkwardly, feeling bad that we’d all but completely excluded him from the conversation. “Sorry Tristan, I bet Cara didn’t tell you how awkward I can be sometimes.”
He smiles, “No, she warned me. I just didn’t believe her, but I guess she was right. I’ve gotta say I’m kind of happy she was, because it makes for an interesting friendship.”
Grinning I reach out and tousle his hair, “I’m glad we’re friends then.” He looks as if I’ve just made his day, and I can’t help but laugh some more as his face turns a bright red. Maybe he doesn’t have very many friends at his school. Cara had told me that he goes to a very prestigious private school on the other side of town from where we go to school, a very posh place.
“I’m glad too. I was worried you wouldn’t like me, actually,” says Tristan, all awkward and cute, and right then, I really see what Cara likes about him and I can only hope that they work out well. I like his guy for her. I just hope she smartens up and doesn’t end up hurting him. I’ll have to talk to her about it later.
Cara links one of her arms through mine, rolls her eyes and says, “Well, we’re all glad. Now, let’s get down to business. I want Ice cream and cheap thrills, and I know you guys don’t have any of that here.”
“You want cheap thrills? I can take my shirt off if you’d like.” I say sarcastically, “But you need to take me out on a date first.”
“Or, we could go to the amusement park and ride the Tilt a’ Whirl until we puke.” She says, already standing up.
Laughing, I say, “There’s that option too, I guess.”
Cara slaps my arm, “Shut up already and let’s go. You can tell us what you did with Cael the lover boy on our way there.”
We stand up and walk out of my room, momentarily forgetting about Tristan. Pug whines from my room as we open the front door, and Cara and I both almost collapse into a fit of giggles as we run back to my room to get Tristan.
“Hurry up!” says Cara, all excited and ready to go.
“I have no say in this, do I?” asks Tristan.
Cara and I both look at each other and smile, “Nope.”
Once we get in Cara’s car, I tell them all about Cael and his café, and even about before that, the day of Cara’s party. Tristan listens intently, and Cara voices her opinion on the matter.
“You got a job and a boyfriend all in one day? Skills girl, you’ve got skills.”
Is he my boyfriend? I’m not really sure, considering we haven’t even gone out on a date yet. “I guess so, at least for the boyfriend part anyway. I’m not entirely sure…I don’t know him all that well, we’ve only known each other for what, two days?”
Cara slows to stop at a red light and once she’s stopped, she applies a fresh coat of lip-gloss, “Well, find out then. Call him, invite him to come.” She offers me her lip-gloss and I shake my head.
“Just call him, Khiara. It won’t kill you!”
Grasping for any excuse not to call him, I say, “He’s busy tonight, actually. He’s got this thing to go to…”
“What thing?”
“Just a thing, you know a function of sorts.” I lie.
Tristan sighs and pats me on the shoulder from the back seat, “A function of sorts? You’re a bad liar, Khiara.”
“Yeah well…you suck,” I turn around to stick out my tongue at him like a five year old that’s just been told that she’s not allowed candy and he grins at me, which just makes me more annoyed.
“We’re here!” crows Cara ten minutes later, as we pull into the parking lot of Monster’s Domain amusement park. We park close to the gate; hardly anybody is here because of the rain. Monster’s Domain is one of the biggest amusement parks that I have ever been to besides Disney World, which in my opinion is the biggest and best out there.
“Do you think they’ll close the place if the rain gets bad?” I ask Cara as she twirls her hair with her finger absentmindedly as she watches Tristan rifle through his wallet for his bankcard because he doesn’t have a season’s pass.
“No,” she replies, “They’ll just shut down the non-water rides. I mean, we’re already wet because of the rain, so why not right?” This reminds me that I should probably put my phone in the car for safekeeping, and like he’s read my mind, Tristan says, “You two should put your phones in the car, don’t want them shorting out, do you?”
Cara shakes her head and I say, “Nope. That’s just what I was thinking, actually.”
He smiles and says jokingly, “I read your mind. I’m pro at it, go ahead and test me.”
“What colour is my bra?” I ask, giggling as his face goes red.
“Ouch!” He says as Cara swats him on the butt. “Answer the girl!” she demands. Tristan rolls his eyes, and shakes his head.
“Purple?” he says, and my heart stutters. I force a laugh and say, “No, it’s green. Tomorrow I’ll wear purple and ask you again.” My bra is, in fact purple. I write it off as a coincidence.
I am a magnet for things like that anyway, coincidences.
As soon as we’re past the gates of the park, the rain picks up speed and they close down all of the non-water rides. We ride the log ride four times before getting fed up with it, and then move on to the other rides as the rain slows down and they open them all back up.
“Yes!” Shouts Cara, as we walk and she dances in the direction of the Tilt a’ Whirl, her favourite ride.
Tristan shakes his head, amused as Cara runs off ahead of us, “Why is this, her favourite ride?”
I shrug, “She likes to spin, really fast. I think that’s why she drinks so much. It’s the same kind of feeling.”
Contemplating this, he rubs his jaw, “I suppose so. I’m not one for drinking; it doesn’t really affect me, no matter how much I drink.”
I shrug again, “Yeah, well I wish that were the case with me. One drink and I’m half in the bag.”
Tristan smiles, rubs his jaw again and says, “Well, now I know not to let you near the alcohol at the semi-formal next week.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. I’m glad you’re coming though.” I assure him, laughing as Cara trips and falls into a huge puddle. “It is not funny!” she shrieks, but a second late she’s laughing with me.
As we get to the Tilt a’ Whirl, Cara does this little victory dance when she sees that we’re the only people in line. We’re practically the only people in the park (which, might I add is a very large place and with hardly any people in it, looks a little creepy). The guy at the controls of the ride gives Tristan and I a cursory glance, but his gaze lingers on Cara a little too long, and Tristan doesn’t even seem to care so I let it go. All three of us take our own seat since we’re the only people on the ride at the moment –everybody else is taking advantage of the water rides- and wait for it to begin.
The control guy walks around to each of the seats, checking to make sure they all work and when he gets to mine his face suddenly changes from a mask of indifference, to a look of pure revulsion.
Startled, I ask, “Is there something wrong?”
He shakes his head, quickly composing himself, “There’s puke all over the floor, and you’re stepping in it.”
“Oh,” I say, as my stomach grows queasy. “Thanks for letting me know.” He shrugs, mumbles something close to, “It’s part of the job,” and walks off.
I get out and sit with Cara, who doesn’t bother to ask why I changed, because she saw the whole thing.
When the ride starts, the queasy feeling doesn’t go away, as it should. It gets worse by the minute. I’m okay now, there’s nothing gross about this particular seat, I think to myself. But for some reason, I can’t stop looking at the seat that I was sitting in. It’s mocking me, which is stupid, because dirty puke-filled Tilt a’ Whirl seats can’t mock well, anything, and I know that. But there it is giving off this terrible feeling.
Next to me, Cara laughs away, oblivious as ever to what’s going on inside of me right now. I wish I could explain it to her, but I wouldn’t know where to begin. Somehow, “That twirling purple chair made specifically for the amusement of people is terrifying me with its evil vibes,” doesn’t really sit well with me as a proper explanation. All of a sudden, the chair starts to spin faster than all of the others, and I watch helpless as it starts to spin out of control, smoke rising around it. The ride suddenly stops, and we’re ordered by the control guy, Bob, according to his nametag which I only just bothered to notice, to get off immediately. That one chair keeps spinning, and smoke keeps rising all around it until I notice the telltale orange flames of a fire. Come to think of it, I never saw any puke when I was sitting in it, which brings up a very confusing question.
What the hell is going on?
“Sheesh,” says Cara as we stand back and stare at the ride, “You have the worst of luck. It’s a good thing the control guy…”
“Bob,” I inform her, and she shrugs. “Whatever. It’s a good thing he noticed or that would have been you in there. Thank God.”
“Seriously,” says Tristan, as he wraps his jacket around my shoulders, even as I try to fend it off. He looks upward and smiles, “Thank God!”
“Maybe we should go home,” Cara begins to say, but I put my hand up in a gesture for her to stop. “I’m fine. We should go on at least one roller coaster. It’s not late enough for us to go home.”
Cara frowns, “We have school tomorrow, Khiara. I actually want to pass math class this term. If I don’t, you know I’ll have to go to summer school, and I’m not really into that sort of thing. I like freedom.”
This kind of surprises me. “Be reasonable, Cara. How much have you studied for this test?”
She blinks at me, once, twice, three times, until she says, “Actually, for once I’ve studied a lot. I plan to pass, and I will. But you’re right about the time; it is too early.”
Frowning, I say, “I didn’t know how hard you’d studied for the test, Cara. I was an ass.”
Cara smiles, hugs me and says, “Yeah, you were. But it’s a rare occasion, as is me studying profusely for a test, plus you’re all shook up- to quote Elvis. Now let’s go ride the Minotaur, and forget we ever had this awkward moment.”
Tristan grins, “That’s my favourite ride. I like the tunnel it takes you through before the big drop.”
When we get to the roller coaster, the line is quite short, there are only about ten of us waiting and soon enough it’s our turn. The Minotaur is the biggest coaster at Monster’s Domain, and during nice days the line is packed with people. It’s based upon some cheesy horror movie about a Minotaur that attacks a whole bunch of tourists in the woods while they go camping. I’ve seen it a million times with Cara and each time it gets funnier and funnier to see the fake blood oozing out of cuts that should be already clotted over, and the bad props that are so obviously put together on a very low budget. For whatever reason they made a ride based on it, and the ride is a million times better than the movie, thank God.
When we’re all seated and ready to go, the cars begin to move forward and my heart starts pumping in anticipation. I’m no longer scared or worried or annoyed; for now I’m going to enjoy the ride. As it slowly moves forward, I can’t help but let out a whoop of excitement, and then I can’t stop. Car, Tristan, and everybody else on the ride join in, and as we finally reach the top- my favourite part- we stop for a couple of seconds and overlook the whole amusement park. It’s beautiful to see all of the lights down there. Then we’re pitching forward, super-fast, and this is one of my favourite feelings in the whole world, because I equate it to the idea of falling in love.
After riding the Minotaur three times in a row, the rain starts again, harder than before, and we hide under the awning of one of the game stands. “Damnit!” Yells Cara, as she pulls out her mirror to check her makeup, “I hate the rain sometimes.”
Feeling childish, I push her out into the rain but she won’t have that so she pulls me out with her. Laughing and getting soaked, we run around in the rain pushing each other and twirling and whirling to the beat of our own hysterical giggles. Tristan smiles indulgently at us but he isn’t safe, because soon we have him joining us, whooping and hollering as we run around the park, splashing in puddles that are ankle deep. I like Tristan. He’s a keeper.
~*~
By the time we get to my house, it’s almost midnight. We stopped to get burgers from McDonalds on the way, giggling when the server ogled our wet clothes and messy hair. I open the front door and take a tentative step in, looking around for anybody when I hear the light snoring of my Dad, and I know he’s been waiting for me to get home.
“I’m home,” I say as I close the door, and Dad’s snoring stops.
“Come, sit with me Khiara, I have to tell you something.” He says, eyeing me warily.
“I’m before curfew. Am I in trouble?”
He shakes his head, “No, you’re not. But your mother and I, well, we hoped you’d be home earlier. We have something important to tell you.”
Internally groaning, I sit down beside him on the couch, “What is it Daddy?”
He sighs, and I notice for the first time he looks his age, almost fifty. “Khiara, we love you. You know that don’t you?”
Startled, I say, “Of course. I love you guys too.” He nods, like this is good progress, but it’s no secret that I love my parents, even though they’re hardly home.
Dad sighs again, and opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. Mom’s soft footsteps pad down the hallway and soon she’s in the living room with us.
“Hi beautiful,” she says into my hair as she pulls me in for a hug. She smells like lemons and happy, familiar things and I ease into the hug, smiling. My mother has the softest skin, big green eyes, and blonde-ish brown hair, which is starting to grey at the top.
“Hi, Mom. How was work?”
“Don’t ask,” she replies, holding me at arms length to get a good look at me, “I had a rough day.”
“What did you guys want to tell me?” I hear myself asking, and then feel bad as both their faces fall.
“Maybe we should wait until tomorrow…” Mom says, but Dad shakes his head.
“We love you very much, Khiara,” Dad says again, “But you need to know something very important. We are not your birth parents. We should have told you earlier, maybe raised you to know this, but we didn’t know any other way.”
My heart stops. What did he say?
“Honey.” says Mom. “That doesn’t make you any less our daughter.”
“What do you mean adopted?” I hear myself ask.
Mom speaks up. “Well, you were born in Ireland, as far as we know. Your father and I had been living there for a while, after we moved out of France.” My mother and father met while she was touring Europe, and they quickly fell in love and got married after only six months of dating I had thought they moved to America right away, but I guess they lived in Ireland for some time. “We had been trying to conceive for a while, and we were getting very frustrated with the situation. One day, after a very bad fight, you father opened the door because he was going to take a walk… and there you were. You were just lying there in an old cardboard box, swaddled in blankets, and you couldn’t have been more than a couple of days old.”
“So, what, you just adopted me like that? No paperwork or anything? You realize how ridiculous that is right?”
Dad smiles, “Well yes and no. We didn’t sign any papers, but we spoke to the government and they decided that it was in your best interest to come live with us. We moved here not long after, so of course you wouldn’t remember.”
I nod like I understand, but tears still form in my eyes, and soon they make their way down my cheeks, scorching. “So you’re not my real parents?”
Mom and Dad look stricken, and instantly I rephrase it, “I mean, my birth parents.”
“No, ma belle,” says Dad softly.
They each wrap their arms around me, and I let myself fall into them, comforting me with soothing whispers and pats on my back, telling me that they love me. And I know they mean it, really mean it, and it feels nice to know that they chose to keep me when they could have given me up. But it still hurts to find something like this out after such a long time.
“Do you want to take the day off of school on Monday?” Asks Mom, her eyes glinting with unshed tears. “I’ll be home until two, and we can spend some quality time together until then.”
“I guess,” I say, wiping my eyes on my mother’s sleeve. “I could use some mother-daughter time.”
“Good,” my father murmurs into my hair as he hugs me. “You guys need some time alone.”
Sunday passed with a blur of shopping and eventually getting drunk and having a good time with Cara and Tristan who prompted me to call Cael while I was completely hammered- he didn’t answer, which I rejoiced about- and laughed I left a message on his answering machine. Before I know it, I’m extremely hung-over and it’s Monday.
I wake to the smell of bacon, my mouth watering as I practically float down the staircase, towards the kitchen. Pug trots after me, sitting down by my feet as I plop into a chair at the dining room table, where my mother’s set out waffles, syrup, butter, bacon, eggs, toast, milk, orange juice, and a cup of steaming hot tea. She really went all out.
“Mom, this is…fantastic. Thanks!” I say as I begin to pile my plate as high as I can. She’s practically made enough to feed a whole small village!
Smiling and taking a sip of juice, Mom says, “Well, good morning to you too. It’s good to know you still enjoy my cooking.” Since she has to work so much, she hardly gets to cook for me, and when she is home, she’s usually exhausted. My dad tries to cook when he’s home, but he’s kind of terrible at it, and I’m not much better. I can make small breakfast things, but that’s about it. When my mother cooks, it’s like every ounce of love she has for me is put into the meal.
“So, what do you want to do today?” Asks Mom as I plough through my breakfast.
When I’m done chewing, I say, “Anything is fine.”
She thinks about this and smiles, “How about a makeover and mani-pedi at the mall?”
Even though I’m not much into that kind of stuff, I know she’s really trying to fit in some girl time with me, which I appreciate considering I never see her, and what I found out last night so I agree.
Mom squeals like a little kid at a Hannah Montana concert. “Great!”
Two hours later, I’m wearing the only pink article of clothing I have, a tube top that Cara bought for me last year on my birthday, and a pair of short shorts that Mom insisted I wear because it’s so hot out. The only thing that resembles me are my signature black converse.
“Are you ready to go?” asks Mom as we get into her car, a sleek hybrid-something-or-other. She keeps telling me what type of car it is, but I’m not that good with cars, so I always nod and mumble to give a semblance of caring.
As we pull out of the driveway, that stupid feeling of being watched has to pop up, and no matter how hard I try to ignore it, it just won’t go away. I close my eyes for an instant, and when I open them, Mom’s slamming on the breaks, swearing.
“What is it?” I ask, confused and more than a little startled.
“I thought I saw somebody in the road. I guess not. It looked like that kid from your school…what was his name, Daniel or something? Though I don’t know what he’d be doing running around out here during a school day. Damn near got himself killed.”
“You mean Damien.” I mumble.
Shuddering, I remember the day in the cafeteria, where he grabbed my hand a little too hard and the way he looked at me as if I were a puzzle, as if I were something…I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him since, anyway.
“Weird,” I say as we turn into the mall parking lot. “Maybe he found out he was adopted too.”
“Not funny,” says Mom, but she laughs.
As soon as one of the spa-workers sees my nails, she titters and says, “You shouldn’t bite such nice nails!” and starts vigorously filing them down to make them even. Apparently Mom’s nails are perfect though, because they praise hers as if they’re gold. They work on our hands first, filing them down, and then treating our cuticles. Afterwards, they let them soak in some type of liquid, and then they paint them with colours of our choice. Of course I chose black, making mom roll her eyes at me, but she keeps her mouth shut which I appreciate.
When they’re done with our hands, they work on our feet, going through the same type of process with the nails, but taking all of the dead skin off of the bottoms of the soles. It tickles a little bit, but mostly, I enjoy the experience, and leave with a couple of bottles of nail polish that Mom insisted she get for me.
As we’re walking through the mall, browsing, Mom decides to do a little Q and A session with me about school.
“So,” she asks, “I hear you’re passing French?” She asks all jokey, because she knows that it’s one of my best subjects.
I nod. “Yeah, and all of my other classes too. Okay, well maybe not Gym, but there’s still time to make it up.”
“Is there anybody you like?” She asks, eyeing me with that you’d-better-tell-me-young-lady look that all mothers give. What is it with moms?
“No,” I say a little too quickly, because she asks, “Who is it?”
I keep trying to avoid her gaze until finally she says, “It’s Damien isn’t it? He’s a nice boy I like him. But he should be in school instead of running around in the middle of the road.”
I shake my head, “No, it’s not. It’s,” how do I explain this, “somebody who doesn’t go to my school. His name is Cael, and-” of course, as I’m saying this, Cael walks around the corner and bumps right into me.
“Khiara!” He says, as he helps me up. “I thought you had school today?”
Mom’s eyes get that wicked twinkle they get when she’s excited about something, “She needed some time off,” she reaches out her hand to shake his.
“Cael,” he says as they shake, and she looks over at me with that stupid eye-twinkle and introduces herself. “I’m Khiara’s adoptive mother, Miranda.”
“The only mother I’ve ever known and the best one in the world at that,” I nudge her with a smile. I don’t want things to be different between us, and I want her to know that.
If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. Cael becomes the perfect gentleman. “It’s nice to meet you Mrs. Banning. It’s going to be great having Khiara as an employee at the café.” Crap, I forgot to tell her about that…
Mom thwacks me on my arm playfully. “Oh! Khiara didn’t mention that she’d gotten a job! How wonderful! And especially since she’s going to be working for such a nice boy such as you, Cael. And, please, call me Miranda, Mrs. Banning is so formal!” Oh God, Mom.
“Well, we’d better get going, right Mom?” I pipe up, feeling intensely awkward. I need to get out of here right now.
Mom waves my away with her hand, “Nonsense, Khiara. I’d like to get to know your boss more.”
“But we have that thing to go to.” Again with the lame excuse! I need to get better at lying. “We don’t want to be late.”
Mom looks a little disappointed, and Cael’s trying to hold back laughter. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Mrs-I mean, Miranda. See you around, Khiara. Maybe, are you free later on today? We could have a proper interview, since we had to cut our last one so short.” Mom giggles at the way he says interview, and I resist the embarrassing urge to happy dance in front of them both.
“She’s free.” Says Mom, just as I’m about to answer, and as he walks off waving, she says, “You’ve got a boyfriend!”
“I’ll call you later today! Oh, and by the way, I got your message last night. I’m glad you think my cake is fabulously-fantastic, Khiara.” Cael says as he disappears around the corner. Oh man, so that’s what I said. I silently thank the powers that be for the fact that I didn’t say anything worse.
“He’s not really my boyfriend…we’ve only met like, three times counting today.” I mumble, my face turning red as she dances all around me. I didn’t know my mother could be so…squeaky.
She says, “Well he should be, he’s so nice! And handsome too,” I shove my palm into my face, “and that Irish accent! So lovely!” I have to say, everything she’s saying is true, but I’m too embarrassed to admit it to her, so instead, I just lead the way to the car.