"I'm sorry for getting your car wet," I said sheepishly in the passenger seat of Ricky Heinrich's car.
Ricky laughed. "I'm sorry for getting you we—" he cleared his throat. "For splashing you with water."
"Somehow, I actually forgive you," I replied.
"Well, good," he smirked. "I think the last time you were mad at me was when you were in the eighth grade."
I furrowed my brow. "Wait, when?"
"Don't you remember... Alexander and I were going to Davenport amusement park and you wanted to come really bad and Alexander kept saying no..."
"Oh yes!" I exclaimed, as it all came back to me. "You always used to tell Alexander to let me hang out with you guys, but you didn't back me up that day!"
Ricky chuckled. "So, you remember?"
"Of course, I do!"
*
No, Anastasia, you can't come with me and Ricky to the movies.
Come on Alex, just let her come.
Why? She's a pest.
No, she's not, and she'll like the movie.
Okay, fine.
*
I paused for a moment then turned to Ricky, "So why didn't you back me up that day?"
There were a couple moments of silence with the exception of the raindrops hitting the car.
"We weren't actually going to any amusement park," Ricky said quietly.
"What?" I asked, with narrow eyes.
Ricky had a wide grin but remained silent as he let the steering wheel slide between his hands.
"Where did you guys go?" I probed, smiling slightly myself.
"We spent the night in the city," he finally admitted.
"What?"
Ricky was holding back laughter. "We bussed to the city. Spent the whole day and night, met some questionable - but nice - people, hitchhiked back home-"
"Hitchhiked?" I interrupted once more, aghast.
Every time I showed any sign of horror or dismay, Ricky would struggle even harder to hide his laughter.
"Look, Anastasia, I wasn't ever supposed to tell you this -"
"I can't believe you guys," I continued. "Such little rebels at only fourteen... man, if I tried to do anything like that at fourteen... what am I saying? If I tried to do anything like that now, Alexander would kill me."
"Alexander looks older than he is, so we were able to do some fun stuff-"
"I don't want to hear it!" I cried. "What happened in the city, will forever stay in the city."
Ricky chuckled and shook his head. I was taken aback at how comfortable I felt sitting here talking to Ricky alone. I thought of how I was too shy to even talk to Ricky the last time I had been alone with him. There had been one night recently, where Ricky was sleeping over at the house. Unfortunately, Alexander and I shared a bathroom, and I had been brushing my teeth in my pyjamas, when Ricky entered the bathroom to do the very same. Mortified, I continued to aggressively brush, burning a hole into my own reflection in the mirror. Instead of leaving, Ricky silently grabbed the tube of toothpaste, squeezed a pea size amount onto his brush, and began brushing his teeth right beside me. I didn't dare look at him, and we never said a word to each other. The sight of his grey sweatpants in my peripheral vision made it hard to do so. But if I had known it would've been this easy to talk to Ricky, maybe I would have said something.
"Alright. This is your stop," he informed me, pulling into my driveway.
"That was quick," I noticed, trying to hide my disappointment.
"Anytime you need a ride, I'm here," he said earnestly. "You know, if Alexander is being a jerk or something."
I turned and smiled at him. "Thanks."
"I'll see you around."
The rain had died down and all that was left was a mugginess in the air as I walked up my porch stairs. I turned around to see if Ricky had driven away. He hadn't. He was watching me, making sure I got inside okay. He knew my mom would have still been at work. I felt a feeling of warmth underneath my freezing wet clothes knowing that Ricky was watching me. I then quickly remembered I needed a key to get inside and began fumbling through my backpack to retrieve it.
As I searched for the key, I thought about the story Ricky had told me about Alexander. It served as a reminder that there was a whole side of Alexander that I didn't know about. He had a whole life outside of me, and even inside the walls of the school, that we didn't share. I had a hollow feeling in my stomach at the thought of growing distant from my brother. What was going to happen next year when he's away for school?
After a few moments of mindlessly moving over binders and notepads in my bag, I realized that I still hadn't found my key. I began to panic. I couldn't find it anywhere. I checked my pockets, under the rug, and inside the mailbox. No key.
It instantaneously dawned on me.
Alexander had the key.
Alexander. Had. The. Key.
Normally I would have been fuming, but all I could think about was Ricky waiting with a parked car in my driveway. I lifted my head slightly to see his blue car still in my peripheral vision. I didn't want him to know I was locked out. He had already been nice enough to drive me home, and there was nothing else he could do to help. I turned around, so I wasn't looking at his car at all, and faced my front door. I didn't know what I could do, so I just stood there like statue, hoping that I could avoid embarrassment by simply not looking at it.
"Just turn around and tell him you're locked out," I kept telling myself. I couldn't bring myself to do it. "Or maybe just continue to stand here like a weirdo, it's fine!"
Luckily, Ricky did the talking for me.
"You locked out?" he called out to me, having rolled down the window.
I turned on my heels to look back at him. "Um, yes..." I admitted, having trouble maintaining eye contact.
Ricky chuckled, easing my nerves slightly as a result.
He leaned forward and opened the passenger door, motioning for me to get in.
I did as he ordered, silently wondering what his plan was to get me into my house.
Without even buckling my seatbelt, Ricky had already put the car into drive and drove straight, going further and further away from my house.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked, after some time.
"To a deserted country road so I can murder you, obviously" he said, not missing a beat.
About a block away, Ricky turned right, and I was familiarized with the street we were on. He put his car on the side of the road and stopped right in front of his house. I watched him get out of the driver's seat and open the backseat door.
"You haven't been here in a while, haven't you?" Ricky asked me, grabbing his backpack and putting it on one shoulder.
I stepped out of the car and walked towards the house, not taking my eyes off of it. It felt familiar, yet distant. "Not since that Christmas party your mom had years ago," I responded and immediately realized how specific that was. I added a quick, "I think..." to make myself seem less aware of exactly how long ago I'd been in Ricky's house.
"Oh yeah," he said. "My mom doesn't throw those big parties anymore."
As I entered his home, the scent of the Heinrich household overpowered me and flooded my mind with memories of my childhood.
It was a fairly big house, larger than mine and Alexander's, with mahogany panelled walls and wooden floors. The hallway was long, yet narrow and covered with decorations and antiques all along the walls and tables. At the end of the hallway was a glimpse into the kitchen where I heard faint chattering and the clashing of dishes.
"I'm home!" Ricky called out.
"Ricky!" a soft voice called back. A slim female began to walk towards the front door through the narrow hallway. "I'm glad you're here, your dad and I were saying today that this weekend we should start looking at university - oh, hello," Mrs. Heinrich looked puzzled when she saw me standing in her corridor.
"Hi," I said awkwardly.
"Ricky you didn't tell me you were bringing a... oh! Anastasia? Anastasia Morales? Is that you?"
"It's me," I responded shyly.
"I almost didn't recognize you, honey! Alexander is of course here all the time, and I see your mom around town, but I never see the baby Morales!"
Mrs. Heinrich was being kind, but I felt my face, neck and ears grow hot at the way she had called me a baby. I knew she simply meant to say that I was the youngest, but it was a stigma I couldn't detach myself from.
"Ricky was nice enough to give me a drive home," I told her. "I was locked out of my house, because Alexander had the key and he's still at..."
"Choir!" Ricky interjected abruptly.
I turned my head and stared at him blankly.
"Choir?" Mrs. Heinrich echoed, speaking the thoughts right out of my head.
"Yup. He's still at choir, and he has the key, so here Anastasia is. Alright, well, I'm gonna show her around and give her a refresher of this place, so I'll see you for dinner."
I followed Ricky up the stairs, turning around to give Mrs. Heinrich a wave, who gladly returned it. "Feel free to stay for dinner," she called up to me. I loved how soft-spoken she was, very unlike my loud brother and mom. Ricky had that same gentle aura that his mom had.
I desperately yearned to discover the reason behind Ricky's lie about Alexander being in choir. It wasn't even a good lie considering Alexander singing voice sounded like a cat falling from a window. I suddenly remembered that Ricky himself should have been at that hockey practice with Alexander. There was a secret here.
"You want a sweater or something?" he asked, still walking, not turning around.
"No, I'm fine," I told him, my cheeks growing hot. Stop blushing around him.
I followed Ricky into his room. Forest green walls, wooden floors, and messy as ever - exactly how I remembered it. It dawned on me that I had actually been in Ricky's room before this very moment. I'm sure the girls at Davenport would seethe with jealousy if they knew the connection, I had with Ricky Heinrich growing up. The truth is, I never wanted to brag about it. It was bad enough being associated with Alexander all the time; I didn't want to mold my identity around two boys.
"Sorry my room looks like it got hit by an atomic bomb," Ricky commented, throwing his backpack onto the floor. He plopped into the seat of his spinning desk chair and used his feet to the turn the chair around and face his laptop.
"It's okay," I reassured, sitting gently on the edge of his bed. I was now staring at the back of his head as he scrolled through his computer. It looked like he was on the webpage of a university, but I couldn't see which one.
I started to focus on his hair, his thick locks that could almost be considered wavy. His hair didn't go past his nape anymore but instead was styled perfectly at the bottom of his head. I diverted my eyes away from the back of his head and looked around his room. It was filled mostly with clothes and papers.
On his bedside table, I saw a framed photo and instantly felt a wrench in my gut. I hadn't seen any pictures of him downstairs. It was a photo of Ricky's younger brother.
Adam died from leukaemia when he was five years old.
Ricky and Alexander were nine, and I was eight. In the year of the diagnosis, my mom had spent a lot of time at the Heinrich house, helping keep things in order. It all happened so incredibly fast. The diagnosis, the chemotherapy, then before we knew it, the funeral. After a few years, conversations of Adam began to cease. It seems that nobody ever wants to talk about a dead child. What would you even say? I felt an instant pang of deep-seated guilt for having not thought about that tragic event in such a long time. My life and thoughts were immersed in school, and friends, and everything else - that I had completely forgotten about Adam.
I'm sure Ricky thought about Adam every day. I wondered, too, if he ever spoke about him with Alexander. I had always thought that Alexander and Ricky couldn't have been any closer, but after their losses, Ricky and Alexander formed an unbreakable bond. Mine and Alexander's dad left us the very same year. Even at such a young age, I remember comparing my dad to Ricky's. Ricky's dad lost a son, and he stayed with his family. What was so bad about us, that dad just couldn't take it anymore?
I knew I had been thinking quietly about this for a while, so I quickly scanned the room for another topic of conversation. In the corner near his desk, I spotted a guitar in the midst of a pile of clothes. "Do you play guitar?" I asked.
"Sometimes," he shrugged, not turning around.
I noticed he had a bulletin board full of university pamphlets. "Do you know where you're going next year?" I asked.
"Uhm, no."
"Neither does Alexander."
"I know."
I took a second to think of what else to say. "It's only October, I'm sure you'll figure it out soon."
"Yeah," he said, distractedly, eyes still on his computer screen.
I felt a little disheartened at his unresponsiveness. Moments ago, we were cracking jokes in his car and reminiscing. Now all of a sudden, he couldn't even give me the time of day. It dawned on me that I wasn't even supposed to be here. The reason he was so nice to me earlier was because all he had to do was drive me home. But then I had to go get myself locked out of my house, and now, he had to be forced to entertain me in his own bedroom. It hit me like a ton of bricks having to admit to myself that Ricky and I never spent any time together because I have nothing to offer him. I'm just his best friend's little sister. We're friends through association.
Just as I stewed over these doubts, Ricky slammed his laptop screen shut and spun right around in his chair to face me. "What shall we do?" he asked.
I was taken aback. "Uh..., it's okay Ricky. You don't have to entertain me; I'll just wait quietly until Alexander's practice is over and..."
"Like hell I don't," he objected. "You're at my house and what kind of host would I be if I didn't become your personal entertainment committee?"
I laughed slightly at his upbeat tone. "Okay, well. I do have a question," I stated.
"Shoot."
"Why did you skip hockey practice?"
Ricky's cheerful expression faded slightly, and he looked down at his lap. "Uh. Didn't feel like it."
I decided to immediately drop the subject based on his tone. "Oh."
He brushed his hand through his hair a couple times, moving it so it was pushed lower on his forehead. He looked up at me through his hair. "Any other questions?"
"Nope," I affirmed. "Was just curious."
I still couldn't take my eyes off his hair. Ricky always had what my mom called "voluptuous" hair. Despite being cut short, it was still heavy on the top.
"Remember when your hair went down to your shoulders?" I asked despite myself, letting out a small chuckle.
Ricky let out a laugh as well. "Wow, yeah... I can't believe I ever looked like that. What made you think of that?" he wondered.
"Oh, I've just been looking at your hair -" I said before I could stop myself.
Ricky mouth curved into one of his slightly crooked grins. "Ah."
Now my whole body burned with embarrassment. Why would I say that? I needed to change the subject, and fast. I used my eyes to find something in his room to talk about. "You never told me you played guitar," I declared, pointing to the instrument laying half under a pile of clothes.
Ricky shifted his eyes and glanced over at his acoustic. "I've been playing forever," he said plainly. "I just like it."
"Did you ever take lessons?"
"Self-taught," he bragged with a playful arrogance.
"Let's hear it."
Ricky raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
"Yeah!"
"No," he immediately retracted, lowering his brow.
"What? Why?"
"I don't play in front of people," he said.
"Then who do you play for?"
Ricky paused and gave me a quizzical look. "Myself?"
"If I knew how to play an instrument, or sing, I would be up front and centre playing for everyone all the time," I told him.
"Well I don't care much for impressing others," he simply said.
I opened my mouth then closed it. "Neither do I," was what I wanted to say - but I wasn't entirely sure if that was the whole truth.
"What do you want to study in university?" I asked, continuing to change the subject speedily as if I were a contestant on a Jeopardy lightning round.
University Majors for 1000, Trebek.
"It's actually a really unique field, but it's definitely what I'm drawn to the most," he said.
"Oh, I didn't think you had it figured out yet," I admitted. "What is it?"
"I'm not sure if you've heard of it, it's pretty advanced stuff," he replied.
"Tell me!"
"The art of Call of Duty."
My face dropped, and I failed to hide my smirk. "Very funny. What about hockey? Are you going to keep playing?"
Ricky let out an exhale. "Sure, yeah."
"Alexander is hoping for a scholarship," I told him. "Either that, or he gets drafted into some major league team. It's always been his dream. Just to be able to play hockey in one way or another."
Ricky's expression was hard to read for some reason. Then, he flashed me a wide grin and his eyes briefly sparkled. "Let's not talk about school, or hockey, or any of that," he said.
"Okay. What do you want to talk about?"
Ricky took a moment to think, then asked, "How are you liking junior year?"
"That's still about school," I told him.
"Well it's about you, so I don't mind talking about it."
"It's amazing," I lied quickly in response.
"Yeah? What do you like so far?"
I reflected, trying to come up with a concrete answer. "Just, everything..." I said lamely. "Friends, class... well, okay, not class... but I don't mind learning, and, well, I still have to complete my volunteer hours, so I'm looking forward to that. Kind of..." I trailed off. I couldn't even formulate a proper sentence. It reminded me of when the teacher asks you to list three things about yourself on the first day of school, and your mind savagely erases every memory of everything that has ever been of interest to you.
Ricky stayed quiet for a moment, with a small tight-lipped smile, staring right into my eyes. My palms were growing moist with anxiousness.
"That's great, Anastasia," he said sweetly.
I was hit with a desire to tell Ricky everything. All at once, I wanted to tell him about Robin's pressure for me to throw a party, Alexander's overbearingness, my pervasive thoughts about my dad, my longing to discover what my passions were, my quest for popularity. I was hit by the longing to hear what Ricky had to say. I had never felt so eager to talk about myself.
"Honestly," I began, unsure of where my own words would take me. "Sometimes I feel like-"
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
I felt the vibrations from my cell phone in my back pocket.
"Hold on," I told Ricky, who gave me a short nod of approval. "Hello?"
"Where the hell are you?" Alexander asked irritably on the other end of the line.
"Oh, now you care! You didn't care when I was waiting for you in the pouring rain while you went to hockey practice," I complained.
"Where are you?" he repeated. "I'm home and you're not here!" This time, his voice had a pinch of worry.
"How could I be home without the key, dumb-ass?" I yelled back. Ricky laughed lightly at this.
Ignoring me, he said, "I texted Robin and you're not with her either so don't even think about lying to -"
"I'm at Ricky's!"
There was a stiffening silence.
"Ricky?" Alexander questioned after a moment; his voice softer.
"Yes. Ricky. He drove me home when you abandoned me. I was about to begin a life on the streets before he showed up."
Ricky winked at me and I smiled up at him.
Alexander remained quiet for a few moments, then said, "I thought he was sick."
I didn't respond, unsure of what to say. I tried to gauge Ricky's reaction to overhearing this, but his smile disappeared, and his face remained blank.
"Alright," Alexander continued. "Well, come home now."
I sighed. Of course, Alexander would be ordering me home already. I wanted to stay because I felt like Ricky and I were just about to connect, but I knew I couldn't push to stay any longer without being questioned.
I told Alexander I'd be home in ten and hung up. I looked at Ricky who was swaying back and forth in his chair.
"Want me to give you a lift home?" he asked.
I glanced over out his bedroom window and noticed the clouds had begun to separate, the sun peaking through. "It's okay. I'll walk."
I waited for a response, but he just stared at me with a small smile. I blinked down, away from his gaze, forming a slight smile of my own. "I'll see you around?" I meant to say it as a statement, but it came out more like a question.
"Of course," he answered.