Post by Casi on Jun 23, 2010 2:13:12 GMT 10
Chapter One
Caroline’s breath fogged the passenger side window, obscuring the bright reds and yellows of the early fall foliage. They streamed together in a blur of color, giving the vague impression that the woods had caught fire all around them. What was it her mother used to say? Every year around this time she had packed the whole family into their tiny little Chevy and driven south to see what she called the bonfire hills of Kentucky.
“Who would want to see the Smokey Mountains,” she’d say in her sweet southern drawl, “when we’ve got the fire right here?” She would gesture dramatically out the windows at the hills surrounding them with an air of propriety over them that Caroline had come to associate as purely “Kentuckian.” She’d traveled the country from New York to L.A. For a few blessed months she’d even toured Europe. And yet, even there, she had not seen the equal of this Kentucky pride. She had a theory that it might be the Scottish heritage of her region, some lost vestige of clan loyalty, but she had no way to truly prove it.
“Just think,” Ian said suddenly from the back seat, interrupting Caroline’s train of thought. “If we’d stayed at home, we’d be taking Woodard’s Midterm right now.” There was an appreciative bout of cheering from most of the others.
“Like he’d even notice we were there,” Matt put in from the driver’s seat. “Old man smokes so much pot I’m amazed he can even find his way to the classroom.”
“Oh, and you’d know all about the pot intake, wouldn’t you?” Ian leaned forward in his seat to ruffle Matt’s hair. “How long has it been since you toked up, huh? An hour?”
Caroline cast a furtive glance from at their driver. She was fairly positive they were just joking. Matt had the reputation of being the straight man of this particular group, always the designated driver, or alibi as the case may be. Always dependable. Still, it wasn’t like she really knew any of them well enough to trust that that they wouldn’t drive high. Caroline glanced in the rearview mirror, taking stock of the others.
Directly behind her sat Allyson Stacy, Matt’s girlfriend, and the only person Caroline truly considered a friend. Beside her was Ian Wilson and his girlfriend, Stacy Harper. Ian was a notorious pot head who somehow managed to stay at the top of the class. Rumors abounded as to why, ranging from trysts with teachers to intricate homework slave rings. Caroline suspected he really was smart, but was good looking enough not to care. Stacy…well… Stacy was a bitch. But a blonder, hotter, sluttier bitch you couldn’t find. She and Ian had been together for a little over a month, a personal best for them both.
In the very back of the van were Stacy’s brother, Tommy, and his girlfriend Diana Coal. They hadn’t come up for air since the group had started driving a little over three hours ago. Only the occasional squeal or grunt confirmed that they were still back there.
All couples. All but one.
Caroline went back to staring out the window.
“You know,” Ally spoke up quietly, “according to the map, we should have been there about ten minutes ago. Would it be asking for trouble if I suggested stopping for directions?”
“Bah!” Ian shouted in a dramatically macho voice. “We are men! We need no directions!”
“Yeah, well, that was before the advent of GPS,” Matt pointed out. “And since your piece of crap Magellan couldn’t even find the road, let alone the campgrounds, I’m siding with Ally. Besides, we need gas.”
“Dude,” Ian said in a wounded tone, putting a hand to his heart. “I don’t even know you. Bros before hos man.”
There was a communal squeal of indignant amusement as both Stacy and Ally turned on him. He disappeared under a heap of flailing limbs as they both attempted to pummel him.
“Children!” Matt admonished. “I will turn this van around and go straight home!”
“Oh, Daddy, don’t do that,” Tommy groaned, rising like the dead from the back seat. His shirt was on inside out and backwards. “We stoppin’? I need to drain the lizard.”
Matt sighed dramatically.
“And on that elegant note…” His eyes narrowed at the road ahead of him. “Yeah, I think that’s a gas station coming up. If anyone has to go to the bathroom, this would be the place. Next stop will hopefully be our camp site, and it’s not like there’ll be a toilet there.”
“Not like it matters,” Stacy said, eyeing the approaching gas station with suspicion. “I have a feeling dirt and leaves are going to be a step up from this place.
Matt pulled the van cautiously into the gravel covered, pot hole ridden parking lot. As they idled next to the only working pump Ian began softly whistling the opening strain of “Dueling Banjos,” but no one laughed.
“What do you think the odds are they take Visa here?” Matt asked of no one in particular. With a slight frown, he turned off the ignition and popped open the door. The sound seemed to break some kind of spell inside the car and everyone started moving at once. Ally was nearly flattened as both Stacy and Ian attempted to jump through the side door without bothering to wait for her.
As the group headed towards the small building behind the pumps, Ally paused by the passenger side window, looking in at Caroline, who had remained seated.
“Don’t you have to go to the bathroom?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” Caroline replied, staring off into the distance over Ally’s head. The long drive had made her tired and distracted.
“Don’t you even want to stretch your legs for a minute? We’ve been trapped in there for ages.”
We’ll be there soon. No sense loosening up just to sit back down. I’ll wait.” Caroline smiled, but it felt stiff and unconvincing, even to her. Ally sighed almost imperceptibly and turned to follow the others.
“Hey Ally,” Caroline called with a brave attempt at the frivolous air of the others, forcing a defeated sigh back into her chest. “Grab me a Honey bun or something.” She tossed her wallet out the car window and Ally caught it with a hopeful little smile.
“Sure thing.”
Caroline let her face fall the moment Ally’s back was turned and the button to roll the window back up. She was instantly sealed in blissful silence. Allyson Stacy had always been a very loyal friend, but that didn’t actually maker her a very good one. She had insisted on bringing Caroline on this “last hurrah” for the few seniors in their department who had somehow managed to qualify for graduation after only four years. So far anyway. They still had a semester and a half to get through and Caroline had some doubts about Tommy and Ian. The five year “super senior” had become all too common of late. The trouble was that, without Jamie, Caroline just didn’t fit in the group.
Jaime.
She had made it a whole twenty minutes without thinking about him. A new record. Barely a month had passed since the accident, but it seemed like time had turned upside down. One minute, the pain would be as intense as if it had only happened yesterday. The next…it would fee as if he’d already been gone for years. Caroline was still undecided as to which state of being she preferred. Mostly, she lived for the moments when she wasn’t thinking about him, only noticeable once they had already ended.
Her breath had fogged the window again. With her index finger she lightly traced a “J” in the small cloud of condensation. It was turning a bit chilly out. Who in their right mind would choose October to go camping? There were rumors that they would have snow by Halloween for crying out loud. Caroline rubbed her hand angrily across the wet window, not wanting the others to see. She could take a lot of things, but their pity wasn’t one of them.
The truth was that the whole thing had been Jaime’s idea. He’d planned it with his buddies and, only belatedly, had decided that they should bring the girlfriends. And that’s really all Caroline was to most of them. Jaime’s girlfriend. The quiet, kinda nerdy chick who stayed home reading instead of going out to parties. Jaime’s girlfriend, who didn’t listen to Britney or Beyonce, but a weird mix of showtunes and classic rock. Jaime’s girlfriend…she guessed that’s what she’d be to them forever now. No name. No face. Just the girlfriend of their college buddy who died.
* * *
Matt approached the counter hesitantly. He was mildly concerned that he would not be able to meet the clerk’s eyes, much less speak without laughing. To the man’s credit, he looked much more clean cut than his humble establishment, but that was about as much as could be said with a straight face.
Some streak of vanity in this man had led him in a desperate attempt to hide his gray hair. He had died it a shocking, though supposedly natural looking, shade of red. Matt knew it was dyed for two reasons. First, the man had apparently not read the part of the instructions that told him to wash the dye out. His hair lay stiffly on top of his head in a severely combed mass that still looked a little wet, though clearly it was not. Large blobs of dried red coloring covered all areas exposed scalp and a few had even made expeditions onto his forehead. The most obvious indicator, however, was that the color stopped abruptly just at the level of the man’s ear. Below that was an untouched crop of silver hair. The line of dye looked so perfectly straight he might have used a ruler.
Matt glued his eyes to the man’s shirt, which had the name “Cliff” embroidered on the chest pocket, and tried not to smile too broadly. He was at least relieved to see a faded, peeling Visa/MasterCard sticker plastered crookedly across the top of the cash register.
Cliff was eyeing him in an appraising sort of way.
“Could I, uh, get twenty?” Matt stammered, digging for his wallet.
“Which pump?” Cliff asked without a trace of humor. He didn’t so much as turn and glance out the large front window where the van was clearly visible.
“The only one not roped off?” Matt asked, a bit of annoyance creeping into his voice. Cliff blinked placidly at him, giving the overall appearance of a rather bored cow. Matt squinted out the window. “Two. Pump two,” he said with a little bit of a sigh.
Cliff took Matt’s card and began to ring him up. Very slowly. He gazed at the keys as though he’d never seen them before. Or perhaps it was more like he had, but someone had come in and rearranged them when he wasn’t looking.
Ally sidled up behind Matt. She had a travel guide in one hand and about seven Honey Buns cradled against her body. Matt raised a questioning eyebrow.
“She asked for a Honey Bun,” Ally snapped. “At this point, anything Carrie wants she’s getting in bulk. If nothing else, she might yell at me for buying so many. I’ll take pissed over mopey any day.”
“She’s got reason to mope,” Matt said fairly.
“We all do. But I don’t like seeing her be all zombified all the time. A little sugar rush might do her some good.”
“Fair enough.” Matt shrugged his shoulders. “But do we really need another map? Don’t we already have like four or something?”
“Three. One atlas, one print out, and one Tommy brought that shows the location of ever Hardees in the state.” She rolled her eyes.
“You know,” Matt said, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, “I really love that guy and everything, but God he is such a tool sometimes.”
“Somebody talkin’ bout me?” Tommy asked casually, coming up between them and draping his arms across their shoulders. He eyed the glossy red book in Ally’s hand rather dubiously as she tipped her purchases onto the counter. “You don’t like my map?”
Ally cast him a disparaging look as she fumbled for her money. Matt grabbed his card from Cliff, who blinked dolefully up at them all.
“This one will lead to more than just grease and a fat ass,” she snipped tartly. Matt had a sneaking suspicion that Ally had reached her Tommy limit and would need a break before too long. He desperately hoped they could find the camp grounds soon.
“What could be better than the Angus?” Tommy asked. “Unless it’s got a map to a deep friend deer reserve, I’m not interested.”
Ally snorted derisively and flipped the book over to show him the back. “This thing is specifically for the Gorge. It’s got a little history for the area, all the good hiking trails, natural formations, tourist attractions…” She opened the book to a page she had already dog-eared and held it up for the boys to see. “And campgrounds.” She tossed a wad of bills at cliff and, without bothering to wait for her change she gathered up her snacks and exited in a huff.
Cliff took a moment to decide on a course of action before beginning the painstaking process of unfolding and counting each bill. In what was obviously a gargantuan effort, Matt repressed the urge to groan out loud in impatience.
“Dude, go pump the gas or something while I get directions,” he said, turning to Tommy. “If you do something productive then maybe Ally won’t cut your dick off before we even get there.
“Tommy clapped both hands onto Matt’s shoulders. “Whatever you say, Bro.” He gave Matt a little shake and then he, too, was gone. The door slammed shut behind him with a resounding bang. Sighing in resignation, Matt turned back to the counter wondering if he could both get Ally’s change and ask for directions sometime in this millennium.
Caroline’s breath fogged the passenger side window, obscuring the bright reds and yellows of the early fall foliage. They streamed together in a blur of color, giving the vague impression that the woods had caught fire all around them. What was it her mother used to say? Every year around this time she had packed the whole family into their tiny little Chevy and driven south to see what she called the bonfire hills of Kentucky.
“Who would want to see the Smokey Mountains,” she’d say in her sweet southern drawl, “when we’ve got the fire right here?” She would gesture dramatically out the windows at the hills surrounding them with an air of propriety over them that Caroline had come to associate as purely “Kentuckian.” She’d traveled the country from New York to L.A. For a few blessed months she’d even toured Europe. And yet, even there, she had not seen the equal of this Kentucky pride. She had a theory that it might be the Scottish heritage of her region, some lost vestige of clan loyalty, but she had no way to truly prove it.
“Just think,” Ian said suddenly from the back seat, interrupting Caroline’s train of thought. “If we’d stayed at home, we’d be taking Woodard’s Midterm right now.” There was an appreciative bout of cheering from most of the others.
“Like he’d even notice we were there,” Matt put in from the driver’s seat. “Old man smokes so much pot I’m amazed he can even find his way to the classroom.”
“Oh, and you’d know all about the pot intake, wouldn’t you?” Ian leaned forward in his seat to ruffle Matt’s hair. “How long has it been since you toked up, huh? An hour?”
Caroline cast a furtive glance from at their driver. She was fairly positive they were just joking. Matt had the reputation of being the straight man of this particular group, always the designated driver, or alibi as the case may be. Always dependable. Still, it wasn’t like she really knew any of them well enough to trust that that they wouldn’t drive high. Caroline glanced in the rearview mirror, taking stock of the others.
Directly behind her sat Allyson Stacy, Matt’s girlfriend, and the only person Caroline truly considered a friend. Beside her was Ian Wilson and his girlfriend, Stacy Harper. Ian was a notorious pot head who somehow managed to stay at the top of the class. Rumors abounded as to why, ranging from trysts with teachers to intricate homework slave rings. Caroline suspected he really was smart, but was good looking enough not to care. Stacy…well… Stacy was a bitch. But a blonder, hotter, sluttier bitch you couldn’t find. She and Ian had been together for a little over a month, a personal best for them both.
In the very back of the van were Stacy’s brother, Tommy, and his girlfriend Diana Coal. They hadn’t come up for air since the group had started driving a little over three hours ago. Only the occasional squeal or grunt confirmed that they were still back there.
All couples. All but one.
Caroline went back to staring out the window.
“You know,” Ally spoke up quietly, “according to the map, we should have been there about ten minutes ago. Would it be asking for trouble if I suggested stopping for directions?”
“Bah!” Ian shouted in a dramatically macho voice. “We are men! We need no directions!”
“Yeah, well, that was before the advent of GPS,” Matt pointed out. “And since your piece of crap Magellan couldn’t even find the road, let alone the campgrounds, I’m siding with Ally. Besides, we need gas.”
“Dude,” Ian said in a wounded tone, putting a hand to his heart. “I don’t even know you. Bros before hos man.”
There was a communal squeal of indignant amusement as both Stacy and Ally turned on him. He disappeared under a heap of flailing limbs as they both attempted to pummel him.
“Children!” Matt admonished. “I will turn this van around and go straight home!”
“Oh, Daddy, don’t do that,” Tommy groaned, rising like the dead from the back seat. His shirt was on inside out and backwards. “We stoppin’? I need to drain the lizard.”
Matt sighed dramatically.
“And on that elegant note…” His eyes narrowed at the road ahead of him. “Yeah, I think that’s a gas station coming up. If anyone has to go to the bathroom, this would be the place. Next stop will hopefully be our camp site, and it’s not like there’ll be a toilet there.”
“Not like it matters,” Stacy said, eyeing the approaching gas station with suspicion. “I have a feeling dirt and leaves are going to be a step up from this place.
Matt pulled the van cautiously into the gravel covered, pot hole ridden parking lot. As they idled next to the only working pump Ian began softly whistling the opening strain of “Dueling Banjos,” but no one laughed.
“What do you think the odds are they take Visa here?” Matt asked of no one in particular. With a slight frown, he turned off the ignition and popped open the door. The sound seemed to break some kind of spell inside the car and everyone started moving at once. Ally was nearly flattened as both Stacy and Ian attempted to jump through the side door without bothering to wait for her.
As the group headed towards the small building behind the pumps, Ally paused by the passenger side window, looking in at Caroline, who had remained seated.
“Don’t you have to go to the bathroom?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” Caroline replied, staring off into the distance over Ally’s head. The long drive had made her tired and distracted.
“Don’t you even want to stretch your legs for a minute? We’ve been trapped in there for ages.”
We’ll be there soon. No sense loosening up just to sit back down. I’ll wait.” Caroline smiled, but it felt stiff and unconvincing, even to her. Ally sighed almost imperceptibly and turned to follow the others.
“Hey Ally,” Caroline called with a brave attempt at the frivolous air of the others, forcing a defeated sigh back into her chest. “Grab me a Honey bun or something.” She tossed her wallet out the car window and Ally caught it with a hopeful little smile.
“Sure thing.”
Caroline let her face fall the moment Ally’s back was turned and the button to roll the window back up. She was instantly sealed in blissful silence. Allyson Stacy had always been a very loyal friend, but that didn’t actually maker her a very good one. She had insisted on bringing Caroline on this “last hurrah” for the few seniors in their department who had somehow managed to qualify for graduation after only four years. So far anyway. They still had a semester and a half to get through and Caroline had some doubts about Tommy and Ian. The five year “super senior” had become all too common of late. The trouble was that, without Jamie, Caroline just didn’t fit in the group.
Jaime.
She had made it a whole twenty minutes without thinking about him. A new record. Barely a month had passed since the accident, but it seemed like time had turned upside down. One minute, the pain would be as intense as if it had only happened yesterday. The next…it would fee as if he’d already been gone for years. Caroline was still undecided as to which state of being she preferred. Mostly, she lived for the moments when she wasn’t thinking about him, only noticeable once they had already ended.
Her breath had fogged the window again. With her index finger she lightly traced a “J” in the small cloud of condensation. It was turning a bit chilly out. Who in their right mind would choose October to go camping? There were rumors that they would have snow by Halloween for crying out loud. Caroline rubbed her hand angrily across the wet window, not wanting the others to see. She could take a lot of things, but their pity wasn’t one of them.
The truth was that the whole thing had been Jaime’s idea. He’d planned it with his buddies and, only belatedly, had decided that they should bring the girlfriends. And that’s really all Caroline was to most of them. Jaime’s girlfriend. The quiet, kinda nerdy chick who stayed home reading instead of going out to parties. Jaime’s girlfriend, who didn’t listen to Britney or Beyonce, but a weird mix of showtunes and classic rock. Jaime’s girlfriend…she guessed that’s what she’d be to them forever now. No name. No face. Just the girlfriend of their college buddy who died.
* * *
Matt approached the counter hesitantly. He was mildly concerned that he would not be able to meet the clerk’s eyes, much less speak without laughing. To the man’s credit, he looked much more clean cut than his humble establishment, but that was about as much as could be said with a straight face.
Some streak of vanity in this man had led him in a desperate attempt to hide his gray hair. He had died it a shocking, though supposedly natural looking, shade of red. Matt knew it was dyed for two reasons. First, the man had apparently not read the part of the instructions that told him to wash the dye out. His hair lay stiffly on top of his head in a severely combed mass that still looked a little wet, though clearly it was not. Large blobs of dried red coloring covered all areas exposed scalp and a few had even made expeditions onto his forehead. The most obvious indicator, however, was that the color stopped abruptly just at the level of the man’s ear. Below that was an untouched crop of silver hair. The line of dye looked so perfectly straight he might have used a ruler.
Matt glued his eyes to the man’s shirt, which had the name “Cliff” embroidered on the chest pocket, and tried not to smile too broadly. He was at least relieved to see a faded, peeling Visa/MasterCard sticker plastered crookedly across the top of the cash register.
Cliff was eyeing him in an appraising sort of way.
“Could I, uh, get twenty?” Matt stammered, digging for his wallet.
“Which pump?” Cliff asked without a trace of humor. He didn’t so much as turn and glance out the large front window where the van was clearly visible.
“The only one not roped off?” Matt asked, a bit of annoyance creeping into his voice. Cliff blinked placidly at him, giving the overall appearance of a rather bored cow. Matt squinted out the window. “Two. Pump two,” he said with a little bit of a sigh.
Cliff took Matt’s card and began to ring him up. Very slowly. He gazed at the keys as though he’d never seen them before. Or perhaps it was more like he had, but someone had come in and rearranged them when he wasn’t looking.
Ally sidled up behind Matt. She had a travel guide in one hand and about seven Honey Buns cradled against her body. Matt raised a questioning eyebrow.
“She asked for a Honey Bun,” Ally snapped. “At this point, anything Carrie wants she’s getting in bulk. If nothing else, she might yell at me for buying so many. I’ll take pissed over mopey any day.”
“She’s got reason to mope,” Matt said fairly.
“We all do. But I don’t like seeing her be all zombified all the time. A little sugar rush might do her some good.”
“Fair enough.” Matt shrugged his shoulders. “But do we really need another map? Don’t we already have like four or something?”
“Three. One atlas, one print out, and one Tommy brought that shows the location of ever Hardees in the state.” She rolled her eyes.
“You know,” Matt said, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, “I really love that guy and everything, but God he is such a tool sometimes.”
“Somebody talkin’ bout me?” Tommy asked casually, coming up between them and draping his arms across their shoulders. He eyed the glossy red book in Ally’s hand rather dubiously as she tipped her purchases onto the counter. “You don’t like my map?”
Ally cast him a disparaging look as she fumbled for her money. Matt grabbed his card from Cliff, who blinked dolefully up at them all.
“This one will lead to more than just grease and a fat ass,” she snipped tartly. Matt had a sneaking suspicion that Ally had reached her Tommy limit and would need a break before too long. He desperately hoped they could find the camp grounds soon.
“What could be better than the Angus?” Tommy asked. “Unless it’s got a map to a deep friend deer reserve, I’m not interested.”
Ally snorted derisively and flipped the book over to show him the back. “This thing is specifically for the Gorge. It’s got a little history for the area, all the good hiking trails, natural formations, tourist attractions…” She opened the book to a page she had already dog-eared and held it up for the boys to see. “And campgrounds.” She tossed a wad of bills at cliff and, without bothering to wait for her change she gathered up her snacks and exited in a huff.
Cliff took a moment to decide on a course of action before beginning the painstaking process of unfolding and counting each bill. In what was obviously a gargantuan effort, Matt repressed the urge to groan out loud in impatience.
“Dude, go pump the gas or something while I get directions,” he said, turning to Tommy. “If you do something productive then maybe Ally won’t cut your dick off before we even get there.
“Tommy clapped both hands onto Matt’s shoulders. “Whatever you say, Bro.” He gave Matt a little shake and then he, too, was gone. The door slammed shut behind him with a resounding bang. Sighing in resignation, Matt turned back to the counter wondering if he could both get Ally’s change and ask for directions sometime in this millennium.