Freaky in Fresno

by Laurie Boyle Crompton

  I grab another fresh wipe. “You have to admit, your mom has done an amazing job of promoting your channel. Your fans are . . . enthusiastic.”

  “Yeah, well, this level of commitment was never really what I wanted for myself,” Lana says. “I was goofing around, having fun, and now it’s become my whole identity.”

  “You love the attention and you know it,” I say.

  Lana grins as she watches the road. “It’s definitely addictive,” she says. “Like, I’ll put up a video and watch the likes immediately start to roll in. It’s as if I can hear the viewers applauding.”

  “So, you just sit there, waiting for people to respond to your posts?” I say.

  “It is a quantifiable measure of how well I’ve done.” Her face falls. “Or how meh. The comments are the true judge.”

  “You never should’ve been reading those toxic comments.” I check my face for the last blotches of color. “At least protected yourself that much. If you don’t read them, they can’t hurt you.”

  Lana shrugs. “I ignored them a few times, when I really needed a break. But my mom likes me to consider the feedback.”

  “Feedback?” My protective inner wolf is awake and angry. “Telling you to ‘go kill yourself’ is not feedback, it’s abuse. And your mom should’ve known that those hateful responses would tear you apart. No wonder you’ve been having panic attacks. Your own mother has been pushing you to drink venom from those anonymous snakes.”

  With a sigh Lana says, “I think my channel simply got too popular too fast and people started to feel, I don’t know, like they could be cruel and forget that I have feelings.”

  “My mom always tells me that other people’s opinions of me are none of my business,” I say.

  “Yeah, well, mine monitors my ratings and tells me what I need to change about myself to be better.”

  I say, “How did the two of them grow up in the same house?”

  “I have some theories now that I’ve spent time studying the sisterhood journal—”

  “The what?” I interrupt.

  “The diary we found at Aunt May’s yurt,” Lana says. “I’m calling it the sisterhood journal. Anyway, it sounds like Nona was actually pretty controlling.”

  “What?” I say. “I can’t even picture that.”

  “Yeah, she treated each of the sisters differently,” Lana says. “And my mom was the daughter who was never good enough.”

  “Wow,” I say. “Do you think that’s why your mom sucks as a mom?”

  “She loves me,” Lana defends, then after a moment adds, “But she’s probably not a great fit for me as a manager.”

  “Her approach is a bit high pressure.” I check my clean reflection in the mirror and snap the visor shut.

  Lana glances at me. “I always liked the way Lookie Lana!’s double L logo gave a little wink to our relationship. It helped me stay strong in the face of all that hate. I had no idea you resented me for using it.”

  “I resented you for cutting me out of your life when your channel took off.” I cross my arms over my chest and rest back in the seat.

  “That wasn’t intentional,” Lana says. “In fact, it felt like you started acting weird first. I assumed it was jealousy and so I gave you some space. I didn’t want to rub my success in your face.”

  “But you didn’t just give me space,” I say. “You pushed me away.”

  I feel a pang of grief at the remembered loss. I’d felt so lonely, spending hours in my darkened room watching horror films alone.

  Lana’s jaw tightens. “Come on, Ricki. I know we both played a role, but you’re the one who gave up on us.”

  “I didn’t . . .” I stop. She is being unfair. I think back to all the text messages I sent that went unanswered and the time she spent cozying up to my mom with all their fashion talk and shopping trips. I remember the stab of envy I would feel anytime anyone talked about my amazing cousin and how much they loved Lana and her channel. Things were really taking off for her. With Aunt April’s guidance, she was building something successful.

  And I felt so excluded and rejected.

  I felt . . . like I was being left behind.

  “I’m sorry,” I say softly. “Maybe I was a little jealous of all the attention you were getting.”

  “You think I didn’t feel guilty for that?” she says. “Everyone wanted to put me up on some pedestal and act like I was special all of a sudden, and meanwhile I knew better.”

  “Yeah, I knew better too.” I laugh. “You’re cool and all, but come on, that article called you the newest Goddess of Glam.”

  Lana laughs. “It was all a bit much.”

  “I assumed you didn’t want to deal with being regular old Lana anymore,” I say. “Like you wanted to erase that part of you.”

  “No, I needed people like you in my life who know I’m just regular old Lana, and not some sort of glitzy deity,” she says. “You were right before about nobody knowing the real me.”

  “I know the real you,” I say. “And I’ve missed you a lot.”

  “I’ve missed you too,” she says. “So much.”

  I slide over in the seat so I’m beside her and give her a sideways hug, and our hair swirls together in the wind above our heads.

  “I’m sorry I pushed you away, Ricki,” she says.

  I say, “And I’m sorry that I let you.” I hug her tighter as she drives, and it’s as if all the time and hurt between us begins to flitter away.

  We are morphing back into close-as-sister cousins again, our brown and blonde hair releasing sparkles into the air as it spins and twirls and twists together.

  chapter 24

  When the Skylark makes its final turn toward the Starlight marquee, I half expect us to swap places again. But apparently our switch is holding out for something more than Lana and me reconnecting and apologizing to each other in a sincere and heartfelt way.

  “I can’t believe Aunt May didn’t tell us this was Nona’s car,” I say. “Do you think she even realizes? Or maybe she’s had it hidden somewhere on her property this whole time.”

  Lana says, “It’s time for her to spill the tea.”

  “Oh yes,” I say. “She needs to spill a lot of it!” I spot a Jedi talking to a large man in round glasses wearing a wizard cape. “Wow,” I say. “Volunteers are already showing up.”

  Lana checks her phone. “Well, it is nearly five thirty.”

  We pull up alongside the front ticket booth and three wolf dog faces appear in the booth window, inspecting us as if they’re in charge of security. They stand in a row, panting happily as their giant front paws rest on the waist-high window shelf.

  A little yap sounds from below and two of them immediately jump back down, disappearing inside the booth. The third continues sniffing at us through the screen a moment before giving a sharp yelp and dropping down out of sight.

  Zelda pops up and walks along the sill, like she’s the one truly in charge of inspecting our vehicle. She bares her teeth and growls at me, and the next thing I know the three other dogs leap back up so their faces are in the window.

  The Chihuahua gives a short, commanding yip, and the wolf dogs start wildly barking at us.

  Wes steps up to the window wearing a cowboy hat. His fresh Starlight T-shirt is paired with the glowing Starlight Sapphire pendant from Aunt May, and it hangs perfectly between the silhouetted couple on the front of his shirt. The ones about to kiss under the stars. When Wes sees us he says, “Oh, thank God you’re here.”

  “What’s going on?” Lana asks.

  Aunt May appears from the back of the booth dressed in full Glinda the Good Witch regalia, from cylinder crown to floor-length poufy pink dress. She pulls on two of the wolf dogs’ collars, trying to get them to calm down. “I just called your mom, Ricki,” she says. “She needs to come and get her little demon dog.”

  “Zelda’s been stressing the poor wolf pups out this whole time,” Wes says. “They respond to her command, like they’ve all accept
ed her as alpha. It’s bizarre.”

  “She’s the worst,” Aunt May says. “Poor Wulf keeps rolling onto his back in submission, and now they’re all out of control!”

  “We had a volunteer turn around and leave already,” Wes says. “We need to get Zelda out of here.”

  Aunt May passes Evil Z through the open window to Lana. The Chihuahua immediately starts licking her face hello.

  As soon as she’s done kissing Lana, Zelda turns around and gives a low growl to the wolf dogs watching from the window.

  Their ears drop down as she reams them out with three sharp barks and, one at a time, they drop back down out of sight.

  “Such a tiny tyrant,” Wes says, shaking his head.

  “My sweet babies are traumatized.” Aunt May bends down to give the closest wolf dog a hug. Meanwhile, another pup sticks his whole head inside the cylinder top of her crown.

  “How’re things looking for tonight?” I ask Wes. “Do you think we’ll make our quota for the bank loan?”

  “I really hope so, Lana.” He smiles, “I think we’ve done all we can do.” He looks at Aunt May as she reclaims her crown and stands back up. “The rest is up to fate.”

  She smiles at him. “It’s been a pretty fateful day.”

  “Yeah,” Wes says, rubbing the blue starlight pendant and smiling back at her.

  I give them a moment, then say, “Speaking of fate, do you think we can maybe talk to you, Aunt May?”

  Lana adds, “It’s about the car.”

  “Is there something wrong with it?” Aunt May asks. “I had my mechanic look it over before I gave you girls the keys.”

  “Oh, it drives just fine,” Lana says.

  “We want to talk more about the origin of the car,” I say. “We have a few specific questions about where it came from.”

  Aunt May widens her eyes, and then glances at Wes. “Do you mind watching the boys?”

  Wes responds right away that he’d love to get to know them better.

  “Good luck with that,” I say under my breath.

  Lana must hear me because she chuckles. “This is not the first time Aunt May has fed a guy to her wolves.”

  Our aunt steps out of the booth and walks around to my side of the Skylark.

  I scooch even closer to Lana, and Aunt May squeezes her big, puffy skirt in through the door. “Ricki, you mind driving us someplace with a bit more privacy?” she says.

  The convertible kicks up a small cloud of dust and Lana hands the Chihuahua across my lap to Aunt May as she drives toward the huge movie screen in front. Zelda growls under her breath but doesn’t snap at our aunt.

  I watch the parking lot whiz by from the middle of the front seat. A number of cars have already laid claim to some of the prime-viewing center parking spots, and costumed volunteers are milling about, greeting each other.

  But Jake and his red Bronco are nowhere in sight.

  I check my phone and realize he’s responded to my text, that he had to take care of an emergency errand. He says he’ll meet me at the Starlight later.

  I type:

  Do I get to see a costume preview?

  I wait and watch as the three dots indicate he’s answering me. I start to panic as it takes longer and longer. Lana parks the Skylark beside the playground and she and Aunt May climb out their opposite sides, leaving me sitting alone, staring at my phone.

  Lana takes Zelda from Aunt May and the two of them head for the swing set. My cousin turns back as if she’s about to say something and realizes I’m not following them.

  Tucking the Chihuahua under one arm, she moves back to the car. “Are you coming?” Evil Z growls at me from her arms.

  “Sorry,” I say, “just waiting for a response from Jake. I still can’t believe you abandoned him in the bouncy castle.”

  “I’m sorry, I really didn’t have a choice,” Lana says. “And come on. This is important.”

  I start to climb out of the car just as my phone buzzes with his response.

  No preview. Surprise. And just so you know wanted to meet you in the bounce house to apologize. Promise I’m not a creep. Just misread signs. I’m really truly sorry, thought I was being romantic.

  I want to cry.

  Sorry couldn’t bounce with you! I write back. Lana needed help. You were never a creep! Wish I could go back and get a redo.

  He doesn’t respond, and Lana is pulling me out of the car by one arm. In case it isn’t clear to Jake that I wish I’d kissed him, I quickly add:

  I want us to EXPERIENCE THE MAGIC OF THE STARLIGHT tonight.

  It feels as if my heart goes whooshing off into space along with my text, and I’m too afraid to check if he’s working on another response. With a small whispered prayer that Jake is reading my words right now and deciding to give me another chance, I put away my phone, climb out of the Skylark, and grab my backpack filled with horror supplies from the trunk.

  I tell Lana, “Well, I just laid it on the line with Jake. Now all we need to do is switch back so I can hopefully seal things tonight with a magical kiss.”

  “You do realize you sound like a desperate Disney princess right now,” Lana says.

  “Yes, it’s humiliating,” I say. “I just don’t know what I’ll do if he ends up rejecting me.”

  “Hey,” Lana says. “There’s no shame in being rejected. It means we tried something we weren’t sure we could do.”

  “Yeah, it’s hard to put a positive spin on rejection,” I say. “But thanks for trying.”

  When we reach the playground, the slide and merry-go-round are crawling with screaming children, some already sparkling with bouncy castle glitter. We join Aunt May where she’s waiting for us in the empty swing set area.

  Her bracelets jingle and her poufy skirt sighs as she hikes it up and squishes it onto the swing. “I love swinging,” she says with delight. As she pumps her feet we can see she’s wearing hiking boots underneath her authentic Glinda dress.

  “Okay, Aunt May . . . spill it,” Lana calls to her between passes. “Lana and I know . . .” She pauses to wait for the swing. “For a fact . . .” Pause. “That you gave us . . . Nona’s car!”

  Aunt May drags her boots in the dirt to slow down her swing. “How on earth did you two figure it out?”

  “Ah-ha! So you admit it.” Lana points at her accusingly. “Wait. You admit it?”

  “Do your moms know?” Aunt May asks.

  “No,” I say, “we just figured it out.”

  “Please don’t tell them,” Aunt May says. “It’ll just make things complicated.”

  “Complicated how?” Lana asks.

  I say, “Because that car has been making things extremely complicated for us today.”

  “Is it running okay?” Aunt May asks. “Sometimes you just can’t tell with these older cars.”

  “It runs fine,” I say. “It’s just . . . having a strange effect on Ricki and me.”

  Lana nods and points at me. “Understatement.”

  Our aunt laughs. “That’s just nostalgia taking over. You girls had some amazing times in that Skylark. Driving in it together must be bringing up potent memories.”

  Lana points to the Skylark with the Chihuahua she’s holding. “That car gives new meaning to the term wild ride.”

  Aunt May’s eyes are wide. “Do you girls remember that amazing road trip we took after Nona died?”

  Lana and I both sit down on the swings on opposite sides of her, and Zelda settles in on Lana’s lap.

  “That trip was amazing,” I say. “A once-in-a-lifetime experience.”

  “Yeah. One time only,” Lana says. “Because Aunt May captured the car and held it hostage without telling anyone. I can’t believe you’ve had it all this time.”

  “It’s a whole thing,” Aunt May says, which is an explanation that usually means we’ll never know the full story. She adjusts her cylinder crown. “But basically, after that road trip I just couldn’t give up the car.”

  “We did have a r
eally great time,” Lana says.

  “I was in charge of selling it, and so I just claimed that I got less than book value and paid off both your moms.”

  I slap Aunt May’s arm. “I remember my mom complaining you weren’t savvy with the Skylark sale back at the time.”

  “That’s funny.” Aunt May points at Lana. “I thought Ricki’s mom was the judgy one. I guess I let down both my sisters.”

  “Not at all,” I say with a grin. “Because you kept Nona’s car!”

  Aunt May tells me, “Your mom called to thank me and said you’re riding the Skylark onstage at Digifest tonight.” She squints at the sun, getting heavy in the sky. “Wait, aren’t you and your mom supposed to be on your way to LA by now?”

  Lana puts Zelda down on the ground and the Chihuahua immediately charges across the playground toward an unassuming group of children. My cousin looks at her phone and grins. “It’s almost six o’clock. We just need to avoid my mom for a little bit longer and it’ll be too late to go to LA.”

  “Wait, why are you girls avoiding your mom, Ricki?” Aunt May asks.

  Just then, my parents’ silver minivan pulls past the ticket booth and heads in our direction.

  “We’re not really avoiding her.” I gesture. “In fact, here’s Aunt June now.”

  I point to Zelda, who is busy herding the now-screaming children to one corner of the playground by nipping at their kiddie ankles.

  “Oh, right,” Lana says. “I’d better grab my mom’s dog.”

  Which is when Aunt April’s RAV4 comes roaring past the ticket booth and stops with its engine revving at the drive-in entrance.

  “Eeep.” Lana freezes on her way to collect Evil Z. “And here comes your mom too, Lana.”

  I instinctively duck so she won’t see me, but Aunt May stands up and starts waving both arms like she’s hoping to be run over.

  “Both of my sisters,” Aunt May says. “This is a rare treat. Too rare, in fact.”

  The RAV4 speeds in our direction while kicking up gravel. As it gets closer I can see through the front windshield that Aunt April looks furious. Her Highness is perched beside her in the passenger seat, one hand gripping the dashboard while the other dramatically holds on to her tiara.