Eternal Youth (5 page)

No leap year this year again. Three more years til.

Anyway, enough morbid. Dad is dead, Mom is psycho.

It’s some kind of river this time. According to Mom’s “sources”—née GOOGLE—the river is so small nobody knows where it is or how to find it, and the Aborigines call it something that translates to “River of Agelessness” or something.

I hope the thing is DRIED UP.

Braden is kicking me and telling me to “turn off your stupid, girly flashlight and go to sleep, you’re bugging me.”

Just because my flashlight is hot pink and has flowers on it DOESN’T mean it’s stupid :P

A
very picked her up at twelve-thirty—half an hour late, which was pretty normal for her.

“It’s about time,” Callie griped as she fell into the battered passenger seat of her best friend’s car. She wrinkled her nose as she buckled the ratty seatbelt—it smelled like cheese.
Why in the world does it smell like cheese? And meat?

“I lost track of time. You know how it is.” Avery shrugged, signaling as she turned out of the driveway and onto the main road.

Actually, Callie didn’t know how it was. She hated being late for anything—the complete opposite of her happy-go-lucky mother. Instead of arguing with Avery, Callie changed the subject. “Why does it smell like tacos in here?”

Avery burst out laughing. “Does it? I guess I just don’t notice it anymore. Ian works at Taco Bell.”

“Um. Ew.”

“Whatever. It’s a job. What do you have?” Avery shot back.

“A set of goat-skin drums from Morocco,” Callie quipped.

“I’m glad to see you a little more light-hearted,” Avery said softly, reaching over to pat Callie’s leg. “Are you feeling a little more normal?”

“Argue with me some more, and then I’ll let you know.” Callie laughed. “What are we doing today?”

“I figured we’d just hang out at the mall, if that’s okay with you?” Avery’s blue eyes slid to Callie. “I need a dress for the Winter Formal.”

“Isn’t that in December?”

“I want you here because I respect your opinion over my mother’s.”

Callie chuckled. “Don’t blame you. Sounds great. I need to get some new clothes anyway. I really miss shopping in real malls. Outdoor markets get old after a while.”

“I don’t know how you do it…”

“Me either. Trust me it’s not willingly, that’s for sure.”

The mall was like coming home; just the sight of the swaggering monstrosity was enough to give Callie heart palpitations—and she didn’t even like shopping
that
much.

It was also riddled with cars and people, zipping in and out of parking spots and walking out in front of Avery’s car as if it wasn’t even there. The glass doors that led into the food court were like the revolving doors of a nightclub.

Avery drove around in circles, looking for a spot close to the front. After their third pass, Callie sighed.

“Heaven forbid you have to walk further than necessary, Avery.”

“Whatever, world-traveler. Just because you’ve climbed the ass-crack of Guatemala doesn’t mean I have to.” Avery gave her a sweet smile.

In the time her best friend wasted driving around, they could have already walked from the furthest spot in the back. Callie bit her tongue. She’d known Avery long enough to know nothing she said would make a difference. She’d just be accused of being a control-freak.

The inside of the mall was packed. Callie latched on to Avery’s blue jean jacket and hung on for dear life as they barreled through the crowds, narrowly avoiding strollers, small children on tethers, and teenage boys attempting to skateboard until security found them. Avery’s routine was fail-safe—their first stop was
always
Forever 21.

“There are so many
people
,” Callie murmured, pressing closer to her best friend as a big group of chattering pre-teens with knobby knees and elbows surged around them.

“You’ve been out of touch with the real world for too long.” Avery shot a concerned look over her shoulder. “Too many days and nights in the company of monkeys instead of people.”

“I’ve rarely seen monkeys.” Callie paused. “Up close, anyway.”

Avery scoffed. “Your argument leaves much to be desired.”

They spent a couple hours wandering the store and chit-chatting over the loud music. Callie made some great finds on the sale rack—much to Avery’s chagrin. With a curvier body, Avery was never quite as lucky to find three and four dollar tanks and tops to fit her. It was an ongoing source of pouting.

They ended up finding a dress for the formal at
JCPenney
. It was an ankle-length, princess-waist in pale pink. The bodice was lined with silver thread, and the boning pushed Avery’s generous chest up and out.

“I need jewelry,” Avery declared as they exited back into the mall.

“Your pearls would look amazing with this dress, why don’t you just wear those?”

Tucking the plastic garment bag over one arm, Avery shook her head. “No. I need
new
jewelry.”

“You’re a mess,” Callie said with a laugh.

As they passed through the food court on the way to Avery’s favorite jewelry store, Callie was distracted by a head full of black hair. She stopped in the middle of the walkway and was nearly plowed over by a large, hairy guy in a leather jacket.

“Watch it, girl,” he snarled, diverting his path and disappearing into the crowd before she could respond.

“Way to go, Cal,” Avery said as she tugged Callie to the side of the walkway. They paused beneath a window with a display of sports equipment. “Why’d you stop?”

“Isn’t that the guy from Luigi’s?” Callie asked, her gaze on the dark-haired boy who had caught her attention.

He was sitting by himself at a small table near the Subway, munching on a handful of french fries. Callie’s heart skipped a beat. He looked so cute in his khaki corduroys and red plaid shirt.

“Huh. That
is
Jonathan.” Avery shrugged. “So?”

“He’s such a cutie.”

Avery smacked Callie on the shoulder. “If you thought he was cute, why didn’t you go talk to him yesterday? Other than ordering our food, I mean.”

Callie shrugged. “I dunno.”

Planting her hands firmly on Callie’s shoulders, Avery angled her towards the food court and gave her a push. “It’s a sign. He’s here, he’s by himself, and you need to go talk to him.”

“He probably doesn’t even remember me.” Callie bit her lip.

“Somehow I doubt that,” Avery said wryly. “You’re not exactly easy to forget. Go on. Go talk to him. I’m going to go look around. Text me if you need me to come save you.” Avery pushed Callie towards the food court.

Callie looked back, her eyes pleading, but Avery just grinned and sauntered off.

Great
. Callie sighed, threw back her shoulders, and kept her head high. Her mother always told her perception was reality. As long as she
looked
confident, Jonathan would think it was true.

Meanwhile, her stomach was in knots. She had no idea what to say to him.

She didn’t want to appear too stalker-ish, so she stopped and bought a pretzel and soda. Trying to look as casual as possible, she passed his table and sat down at a table across from him. She kept glancing over, trying to catch his eye, but he was oblivious.
Now what?

She obviously needed to brush up on her flirting skills. Maybe she should just call Avery and forget about Jonathan… But, her best friend would probably never let her live it down. Avery had the memory of an elephant and the ability to draw out things better left in the past.

What the hell
. It’s not like she had anything to lose—she was leaving in a few days, anyway. Callie stood up and dropped her trash in the can, and then walked to his table. “Hey, don’t you work at the pizza place?”

Jonathan looked up, surprised. His eyes were a much paler shade of blue than they had seemed in the dim restaurant the night before. “Yeah. Oh—weren’t you there yesterday? Luigi’s special?”

Callie felt the blush creep up her cheeks. “Yep. I thought you looked familiar, but I wasn’t sure.” Was it okay to lie when you were flirting?

If someone were to teach classes in human interaction for sixteen-year-olds, I’d take them.

“Cool.” He stuck out a hand. “Jonathan Furrow.”

“Callie Bishoff,” Callie replied, staring at their hands locked together. Callie thought his long fingers looked graceful.

“I’ve never seen you around before. Are you new?” He let go of her and crinkled up his metallic burger wrapper.

She stepped away minutely, uncomfortable at the depth of his stare. “Not really. I’ve lived here for as long as I can remember, but I travel a lot.”

Jonathan wrinkled his nose. “Travel? What about school? Are you home schooled?”

“Unfortunately.” Callie shifted her feet awkwardly and realized she had no idea what to do with her hands. Put them on her hips? Behind her back? She vaguely remembered her mom telling her to never cross her arms in front of someone because it was rude. Or was that never cross your legs in front of them?

So. Out. Of. Touch.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Jonathan smiled, a flash of white in his olive-skinned face, and her heart did a double back flip.

“Thanks.” She slid onto the hard metal stool across from him and smiled shyly. “So. Where do you go to school?”

“Saint Anthony’s.”

“Oh. All-boys?”

Jonathan shrugged. “Yeah. It’s alright. We have a really good music program, so that’s all I really care about. We suck in sports though.”

“I don’t really like sports.”

“Really? I love basketball.”

There was a moment of awkward silence. Callie stared at her fingernails, wishing she’d put some kind of polish on the broken nubs, and Jonathan tossed his wrapper ball back and forth between his hands.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “You came over for a reason, Callie Bishoff. If you can’t spit it out, I guess I’ll have to.”

“Huh?”
Smooth
, Callie thought. She glanced around, preparing her escape.

“So, you doing anything Saturday? There’s a Sci-Fi flick coming out this weekend. You wanna come with?”

Her heart was thudding madly in her chest. “Really?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners when he grinned, and Callie had to fight the urge to swoon.

“Really.” He pulled out his iPhone and looked at her expectantly.

Callie rattled off her number, pleased to find her voice didn’t sound as shaky as it felt. Maybe she could do this teen interaction thing alright.

“I gotta get going,” Jonathan said, putting away his cell. “But I’ll call you to set up plans.”

She could only nod.

“Talk to you soon, Callie.” With a final smile, he stood and left—leaving his trash on the table.

“He left his
trash
on the
table
,” Callie moaned, sagging against Avery as they shoved through the exterior doors. It had gotten chilly, even though the sun was still pretty high. If it was even possible, the parking lot had gotten busier.

“It’s trash, Callie, not a small child.” Avery rolled her eyes as she dug around in her purse for her keys.

“I hate people who don’t clean up after themselves.”

“You don’t even pick your clothes up off the floor, crazy.”

Callie glared at her. “In
public
. This conversation isn’t about my private habits.”

“Tomato, tomahto.”

They stopped at their doors, and Callie stared across the top of the car as Avery turned the key in the lock. “Well, maybe I don’t like to-
mah
-tos. Maybe I’m a straight-laced tomato girl,” she replied as they scooted into the car and closed their doors.

Avery shot Callie an incredulous look as she turned the key in the ignition. “Calista Bishoff, you
are
a to-
mah
-to. You’re about as normal as a killer whale at the equator.”

Callie burst out laughing. “What does that even mean?”

They giggled all the way home.

September 17, 2010

Quebec City

I’ve always wanted a reason to use my crappy French (the French Mom has taught me over the years). Then we come to Canada, where I learn not only do most people speak English, but the French that IS used is different from France French.

Strike #1.

Braden disappeared as soon as we got here. He had a friend to meet up with, some girl he knew from San Diego who moved here with her parents a couple years ago. THEN, Mom takes off to meet up with some GUY that used to know my dad.

Strike #2.

While I was taking a bath in the “communal” bathroom and had the door LOCKED, some wrinkly old guy in a ratty towel came bursting in and demanded I “vacate the premises because his hemorrhoids needed a soak.”

Strike #3.

I don’t like baseball, but I sure do like the whole “three strikes and you’re out” mentality. So someone explain to me why I’m STILL in Quebec City and we’re STILL about to storm the castle…