by Stacia Leigh
Dealing
with Blue
Stacia Leigh
Dealing with Blue
Copyright © 2015 Stacia Leigh
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover design and art by ESPIALdesign at www.espialdesign.com
Buttercup photo by Blue Diamond Photography via foter.com/CC BY
No part of this book may be used, scanned, reproduced, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission by Stacia Leigh, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
Purchase only authorized editions. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
ISBN: 0692608818
ISBN-13: 978-0692608814
DEDICATION
Thank you for the inspiration, motivation, and love.
George, Bianca, and Ruby
Mom and Dad
Hannah
B.B.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1: Saturday Special
Chapter 2: #17
Chapter 3: The Meadow
Chapter 4: CTRL Z
Chapter 5: Consequences
Chapter 6: The Deal
Chapter 7: Whack Job
Chapter 8: The Drive
Chapter 9: Flash
Chapter 10: Kiss Off
Chapter 11: Two-Bit Flick
Chapter 12: The Smile Effect
Chapter 13: Potholes & Goosebumps
Chapter 14: The Cliffs
Chapter 15: Knuckle Sandwich
Chapter 16: Gaps & Puddles
Chapter 17: The Tower
Chapter 18: The Blue Room
Chapter 19: Enter Sandman
Chapter 20: The Key
Chapter 21: Mr. Cool
Later: A Slow Burn
Chapter 1: Saturday Special
Everything was going along fine, which had Suzy relaxing against the vinyl booth cushion with a real smile tugging at her lips. The Platter Cafe served its usual, the best Saturday special in town: buttery eggs and syrupy french toast with a side of crispy bacon. The jukebox played “The Great Pretender,” an old favorite and one she used as her personal mantra—fake it ’til you make it. Most importantly, her mom was staying the course, staying normal.
Suzy was about to wave her napkin in victory at another successful visit with Mom—yes!—when the gray-haired waitress appeared with the bill. She leaned into the booth and refilled Mom’s brew, which had Mom straightening her yellow blouse with renewed energy as if the meal were just starting and not ending.
“I brought you something,” Mom said and her blue eyes beamed across the cluttered diner table.
And just like that, normal took a downward turn. Suzy’s smile waned, and she crumpled the napkin in her lap. Not this again. Just pretend it doesn’t matter, Suz, and then it won’t. La la la. Fake it ’til you make it, remember?
“Suzette.” Mom clutched her fingers and searched Suzy’s face. “This is our chance to start over, and I want things to be better between us.” Her eyes were the color of the sky and swept up at the outer edges like a cat. She had cinnamon freckles on the bridge of her nose and a cap of beautiful auburn hair, not carroty red like Suzy’s. She looked a lot like her mom, but would she turn out like her, too?
“Things have changed, I promise.” Mom opened her hands, and her fingers were delicate, long, and bare; there was no wedding ring. She had always worn the gold band, even after the divorce, but today, it was gone. “I’ve changed, and I want to show you,” she said, digging through her saddle bag of a purse. Car keys jangled in her hand as she scooted across the red booth cushion. “I left it in my car. I know you want to go meet your friends at the Butterhorn, but wait for me, okay? I’ll be right back.”
Why was Mom doing this now? In a few hours they’d be living together…so why bother? The muscles in Suzy’s neck tightened as she watched her mom head to the glass doors, only stopping to make small talk with someone in the foyer. Great. It was J.J. Radborne.
They shared a class together, behavioral science, and yesterday, Mrs. Norton moved seats around, putting Suzy in a group with J.J. and his buddy, Will Sullivan. She’d wind up doing all the work because those two somehow managed to bluff their way through the school system. General rules need not apply.
J.J. grinned and nodded at something Mom said before glancing in Suzy’s direction. She straightened at the eye contact and tossed her balled-up napkin onto her plate while watching J.J. swagger toward her with his arm draped casually over Gemma’s shoulders.
Funny. Suzy hadn’t noticed his girlfriend standing there, and it wasn’t because she was plain or easy to ignore, not with that Nordic blonde hair hanging down her back. It was…what could she say? J.J. was an eye-full. His brown hair looked burnished by the wind, tousled like he’d just fallen off a surfboard and rolled in for brunch. He exuded charm and cheer and was everyone’s friend, whether you were pompous, pimpled, short, or shy.
J.J. had the cute, wild, and carefree thing going on.
Not her type at all.
No, she liked her men like her hair, a little more contained. She touched the side of her updo and wove in a loose strand before pressing on a confident smile.
“Hey, it’s The Professor.” J.J. gave her a lopsided grin. “Guess I’ll be seeing a lot of you from now on.”
“Hi, Suzy. The Professor?” Gemma lifted her eyebrows at J.J. while sliding possessive arms around his waist.
“Grades, glasses. She’s the nerd in our group, right Blue?” He laughed and held up his free hand in surrender. “Those were your words, not mine.”
“I only wear my glasses for distance, and Will called me a nerd. I said I was smart.” Suzy shifted uncomfortably under the weight of Gemma’s gaze. Her dark eyes looked as if they’d been outlined with vine charcoal, and her heavy, cut bangs rested against her eyelids.
“You called us ignor-anuses, if I remember correctly.”
“Classy,” Gemma murmured.
“It was a joke.” Suzy reached out and tapped the handles of her knife and fork into a parallel. She sat at a disadvantage behind a pile of dirty breakfast dishes while they scrutinized her from above. She could use a break here. What was taking her mom so long?
“A good one, too,” J.J. said with an appreciative tone as he rocked back on his heels. “Did we even decide on a project? I don’t remember—”
“Sounds like a lot of fun,” Gemma drawled coolly. She shifted away from him and dropped her arms. “Come on, J.J., our table’s ready.”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll be right there, Gem,” he said, either oblivious to the sudden chill or pretending to be. He grazed her arm affectionately with his fingertips as he let her go and watched her trudge to a cozy table for two before turning back to Suzy. “There’s a party in the meadow tonight and—Oh, hey, Mrs. Blue.”
He cleared his throat and nodded to Mom as she slid into the booth with a gust and a sigh. “Hey, have a good one. Maybe we’ll catch you later,” he said and headed to his table and his waiting girlfriend. The “we” must be couple-speak for him and Gemma. They’d been going out all year long. Quite a haul by high school standards.
“I cannot believe his curls or those eyelashes,” Mom said after J.J. was out of range. “No denying he’s Gary Radborne’s son. Looks just like him. I went to high school with Gary, and I remember he was voted ‘Best Eyes’ in our yearbook. If I can ever find it, I’ll show you. But enough about him. H
ere.” She placed a white envelope in the center of the table and pushed it across with both hands. Her face flushed with excitement.
Suzy reached for it and stopped. Was she ready for this? It felt like a rerun: Mom buys a gift, presents it graciously, then takes it back.
Of course, she would toss out a few lame excuses along the way like…It’s not the right color, or…This reminds me of you, so I can’t bear to let it go, or Suzy’s all-time favorite…I’ll keep it at my house for you. Mom had done this so many times in the past that it was funny. So funny it made Suzy numb from the heart up. Her mom always had some reason why Suzy couldn’t keep it. Always.
“What’s the occasion?” Suzy asked, trying to keep the suspicion out of her voice.
“New beginnings.” Mom nudged it closer. “Go ahead, Suzette. Open it.”
She stared at the envelope before sliding it past the bowl of creamers to her side of the table. With slow fingers, she lifted the flap. Inside was a card and inside that, an ordinary brass house key.
“It’s yours, okay?” Mom said brightly.
Mine? Suzy clasped the key in her hand like it was made of gold and squeezed it until the metal bit into her palm. She stood before her mom could backpedal and ruin the moment and shoved it deep into the front pocket of her jeans.
She was already late, but thankfully the Butterhorn Bakery was right across the street. She pushed the jellies and packets of honey aside to grab her glasses, but paused to soak in the moment. Her mom had actually given her something, and as crazy as it sounded, maybe Suzy didn’t have to pretend like everything was fine anymore.
Maybe things had changed.
After several hours of shopping downtown with her friends, Suzy wandered toward her Mom’s house with a belly full of coffee, two ears full of gossip, and one hand carrying a shoe bag with a new pair of flats in wild animal print. Normally, she would have selected black, something that went with everything. But if Mom could change, Suzy could, too.
Change was in the air.
She wasn’t moving away from Overdale or going to a different school; all that stayed the same.
But yesterday her home was with Dad in the country. Gravel roads, pinecones, and croaking frogs. Nothing said freedom like a wide open yard in the Big Hack mountains. On a super clear day, they could make out the top of Mount Rainier in the distance, a jagged peak that kissed the starry Washington sky.
Simply put, it was beautiful.
Today, however, she would be at the Badger Court Trailer Park, which sat at the end of Main Street, a mere two blocks from school. Instead of the country, she’d be living with traffic, neighbors, and a country bar across the street.
But being in town again wouldn’t be so bad. Who needed a car anyway? She could walk everywhere…the Butterhorn Bakery, Grubby’s Burger Joint, even Moony’s Theater if she felt like watching a cheap flick. Suzy kicked a bottle cap off the sidewalk. Was she the only junior in her class who didn’t have a driver’s license? Probably. Thanks, Dad. Thanks for being an over-protective control-freak who was halfway around the world right about now. She’d said her goodbyes to him early this morning at the airport—
Hey. No, pity party. Don’t think about Dad, not yet.
Think about Mom. Things had changed.
Suzy cut through a vacant parking lot and entered the loop of trailer homes until she stood in front of #17, home-sweet-home.
Heavy yellowed curtains were shut, pressed up against the big front window, and large terra-cotta pots blocked the stairs on the sun-weathered porch. A sign, Welcome! Please use other door, was staked in one pot and surrounded by scraggly brown plants. Their stems stood tall, but their leaves had drooped from death and decay.
The sign said “welcome,” but everything around it did not.
Rust seeped from the bolts, leaving sienna stains on the tin siding of the trailer house while the ornamental shutters had been given a fresh coat of teal paint. The glossy new color popped against the dingy tan, a sign of Dad’s handiwork. He was the shine, the polish, while Mom was…Suzy shook her head.
Mom was the opposite.
But she’d said “new beginnings,” right? Yes, she had. So the outside didn’t matter; it was the change on the inside that counted most.
Suzy waded through the grass at the narrow end of the house to her old bedroom window. Straight white blinds were tilted open, inviting in what was left of the day’s light.
She hadn’t been inside since she was, what…eight…maybe nine? Her dad had moved all her stuff in, and she didn’t even know if everything fit. But supposedly, all her personal stuff was in there, her current life meshing with old memories.
“Blue!”
She spun around to see J.J. clearing a short picket fence with sloughing paint in one easy move. He sauntered across the overgrown lawn toward her with grace in faded jeans and waving brown curls, all bad boy, all Mr. Cool.
Suzy groaned. She wanted to be alone to dig for the inner strength her dad assured her all Blues had before making the big entrance.
He pulled off his dirty work gloves while wearing one of his irresistible smiles, and stuffed them into the pockets of his open jacket. Wasn’t he cold? Her nose threatened to drip, yet Mr. Ten Below here stood with his coat unzipped.
“I thought you had a party to go to,” she said. “Which, by the way, it’s a little cold for a cold brew.”
“Geez, you’re hard core. It’s not even dark yet.” J.J. laughed like she’d made a joke. “But soon enough. I just got done splitting logs for the bonfire.”
“Still, it’s freezing.” She sniffed.
“That’s why you bring a date. Someone to huddle with under a blanket, you know, to keep warm. You should come to the meadow tonight. You could snuggle with Will and debrief him on our group assignment.”
She didn’t ask, What meadow? She didn’t want to seem clueless or interested. But she used to live fifteen minutes out, so what did she know about town parties?
“Will? I don’t think so.” Suzy looped the shoe bag over her wrist, jammed her hands into her fleece pockets, and did a tap dance to warm her popsicle toes. Will had never even quirked a brow in her direction. Just because they shared a group together didn’t mean they had to get cozy. Mr. Cool was messing with her. “Besides, debrief him on what? We didn’t agree on anything.”
“I’m sure whatever you decide will be fine with us.” J.J. gave her a cute weasel grin.
Cute plus weasel equaled huge headache.
“Except no rodents,” he said. “No Skinner box, no maze, no rats…none of that. Let’s stick with the law enforcement angle, the one Mrs. Norton suggested. Do interviews, read procedure manuals, you know, write a paper, call it done.”
“Scared of rats, huh?” Suzy tilted her head back and studied him. A data point for the record: bad boy had a weak spot. “No raspy tailed pets at your house? No Mr. Nibbles?”
“I’ve never forgotten that movie, Willard. You seen it? All those rats…” He shuddered. “That was the last time I spied on Monty with a date. I cried behind the couch, and they both caught me. My brother never lets me forget.”
“You were crying?” Suzy laughed. “I can’t picture you—”
“Hey, I was in the third grade.” His palms flew out. “It’s not like it was yesterday. Anyway, I haven’t seen you at your mom’s place in a long time.”
“Yeah. When my parents split—”
“Hold on.” J.J. slapped at the front pocket of his jeans, scattering loose sawdust. He pulled out his phone. “It’s Gemma,” he murmured, and his green eyes sparked with warmth. “Later, Blue.” He did some kind of man-club, chin wave thing and turned back to the short fence. “Gemma…” he growled into the phone.
Suzy chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully and watched him saunter away with his phone stuck to his ear. J.J. and Gemma…everyone said it had a nice ring to it, but Suzy didn’t agree. Gemma seemed like a jealous cling-on.
He stomped his boots before entering his doub
le-wide trailer, one that looked like a real house. It had a matching two-bay shop with brown siding, and dotting the perimeter were cute inside-out tire planters painted a bright white and filled with happy green plants, ready for spring. With a gnarled apple tree pinning down the other corner of the yard, the scene was one word: picturesque.
Suzy turned back to her bedroom window set in a small, rusty tin can and slowly breathed in some of her Blue strength.
Yes, she could totally do this.
She had to. She had no other choice.
She marched around the corner and up the deck stairs to the back door. It was time to enter the domain. Her fingers found the house key in her front pocket, and she rubbed it like a worry stone. The back door was locked.
Should she knock this first time or use the key? She had no idea what the protocol was—but this was her home now, right?
She pressed the key between her fingers before unlocking the door and stepping into the small mudroom.
The washer and dryer huddled together under a steep pile of mixed-up laundry. On the opposite wall was a coat tree sprouting with knit foliage. Scattered shoes lined the path like a breadcrumb trail through the room.
Suzy wrinkled her nose at the funky smell of old paper and boiled chicken while carefully avoiding a fashionable suede boot, blocking the entryway. Either her mom had been cooking a vat of soup, or this place needed a good airing out.
“Hello?” She glanced warily around the door jamb into the kitchen where her mom opened her arms in a welcoming gesture.
Suzy’s jaw dropped.
Oh. My. God.
Chapter 2: #17
Suzy gaped at the living room’s opposite wall where the front door should have been. Instead, stacked plastic bins and scrunched brown boxes barricaded the entrance from floor to ceiling. The containers dipped down to head-high at the big front window, pressing the drab curtains to the glass. The only natural light allowed in sifted through the top where the swags of fabric didn’t quite meet in the middle. Dust motes hung in the twilight like a cloud of pesky gnats.