Falling (Bits and Pieces, Book 1)

by Shirley Miranda

  PREPARATIONS

  I took a deep breath and double-checked that I had the directions to the airport. The last time I drove there, I would have gotten lost if my best friend Patrick hadn’t gone with me. I had blissfully and thankfully had the house to myself for the last six days while my parents were in Denver. My mom had a business trip which they had turned into a mini ski vacation. This wasn’t unusual. Why not turn a business trip into a getaway? One person’s plane ticket was paid for and part of the hotel. It was a great deal. I used to go on many of their trips, but since our trip to San Francisco over Spring Break, I hadn’t. That’s when I was attacked in the city and they blamed me for it. Like I was looking for trouble or something. So, to them, I’m ‘safer’ at home. If they only knew…

  I looked in the rear-view mirror and made sure my hair was okay. It wasn’t vanity. I needed to be sure that my hair covered the part of my face that had bruises, scratches and stitches.

  Over the last two days, I’d been thinking about what to say when they got back—getting my story straight and flawless, in case they asked a bunch of questions. I didn’t do anything wrong or bad. In fact, I did everything right, but that wouldn’t stop my parents from twisting it into something that ‘embarrassed the family’ or was bad. The less they knew, the better off we all were.

  I was extra careful and told my friends not to mention what I had done to my parents. I had to, they were so proud of me. They saw what I did as a great thing, my parents wouldn’t. I felt bad, but I even asked Patrick’s parents the same thing. My parents just wouldn’t understand and they’d make me stop being friends with all of them—even though it wasn’t their fault either. There was no need for them to know what happened. Just in case, I had a story all figured out to tell them and the truth was not part of it.

  Despite my printed directions, I got a little lost heading to the airport. I wasn’t surprised. But, I did get there in time, which was the important thing. I pulled along side the curb as I saw my parents walking out of the San Diego airport. I popped open the trunk and got out of the car. I helped my mom with her bags. As I turned, the wind blew through my hair, slightly exposing my wounds.

  My mom grabbed me by my chin and turned my face to hers. “Elizabeth, what is this? What happened?” She demanded.

  I got into a huge fight with Becca, Patrick’s ex-girlfriend, because she tried to drug and rape him in front of everyone at a Christmas party. It was the only way I could get her to stop. Patrick ended up in the hospital and it was pretty scary for a while, but he’s okay now. I got stitches and prayed that she’d have to pay for what she did. Yeah, that’s not what I’m telling them. Not if I ever wanted to see the light of day or my friends again. It wouldn’t matter if I did something right. They’d mangle it into something that made me sound like I was looking for trouble and deserved it.

  “Nothing.” I lied. “I slipped at school ‘cause I didn’t see that the ground was wet and slid into a planter.” The best lies were always the simplest. No need to keep the focus on it longer than it had to be. The fewer details to divulge the better and if there was a grain of truth in the lie, it was more believable. I’ve tripped and slid into things before, hurting myself. This was nothing new.

  She shook her head. “Imagine what would trouble you have gotten yourself into if you went skiing with us?” She let go of my chin and got into the car.

  Yeah, because I always go looking for trouble. Whatever. I put her bag in the trunk and got into the back seat. My dad drove and occasionally interjected comments while my mom shared their latest vacation adventure.

  Christmas was just three days away. I was shocked when my mom had told me that we were spending Christmas Eve at our place and family was coming over. Since the house wasn’t decorated for it, she wanted me to do it. I was on winter break and they were out of town. So, who else would get it done?

  The crew helped me decorate. We made a night of it. My friends were great. They didn’t hesitate to offer to help including the guys. I think they were glad to know that my parents would be home for Christmas—unlike Thanksgiving. The guys helped me get the boxes of Christmas decorations out of the garage and setup the tree for me. I could have gotten the boxes out myself, but it would have taken me forever to do it. But the tree… I can’t imagine having to get the tree out of my car, into the house, saw off the bottom end and set it up in the living room alone.

  We walked into the house and the smell of the Christmas tree filled the air. I always loved that smell. It was never really captured right in candles or room sprays. My mom looked around the room. I hoped for her approval, but braced myself for her criticism.

  “Why did you put the tree there?” She pointed to the front window where the tree was centered.

  My stomach started to sink. “Last year, you said you wanted to put the tree in a different place and wanted to put it in front of the window.” I remembered distinctly her saying that.

  Her face soured. “What? So, everyone can see that we have a tree and can rob the house?” She walked over to the fireplace mantel. “The garland? Is it real?”

  “Yes.” The crew and I had fun finding good pieces to use as garland around the house. It made the Christmas tree scent so much more intense. It looked better too. But, I knew from the sound of her voice that she didn’t like it.

  She shook her head in disapproval. “It’s going to dry out and make a mess. You should have used the artificial ones we had in the boxes.” Use the fake looking, non-smelling, loosing its plastic needles garland? Sometimes I think that she does this just to put me in my place and test my obedience. Maybe she has fun making me feel like what I do is never enough or right. “Did you do this by yourself?” She had an accusatory tone to her. She knew I couldn’t have. There was no point lying about that one. It would have been impossible for me to get the tree in the house without help.

  “No.” I looked down at the bottom of the tree. I felt like she was testing to see if I would lie. She never knew when I did—at least not that I could tell. I made sure to mention everyone by name, so she knew the girls were here too. But I didn’t want her to blame them for how things looked. “The crew—Emily, Kraig, Bobby, Jason, Tony, Cassie and Patrick helped me.”

  I could feel her stare. “Hmph. That was nice of your friends. But you know you’re not supposed to have parties here.”

  “It wasn’t a party. They just came over to help.”

  “No one else?” She eyed me.

  “No.” Who else would I ask to come over? She knew I wasn’t the partying type.

  “Patrick was here?” Her tone changed slightly. Before, I would have been scared that she’d yell at me if she asked that question. Now, it was almost like she was double checking that he was here, like it was a good thing.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s good.” She turned and headed to her room.

  What the heck? Okay. That was nice to know. She didn’t mind Patrick. She probably thought he was a good influence or something. If she only she knew that I owe my life to him. Maybe asking to go to places with Patrick and the crew won’t be as bad as I thought it would.