by Amity Green
Savannah held the door open for her sister. Molly was the artist in their family. She was always cooking up some sort of craft in her room and the older she got, the better the finished products became.
“I don’t think so. Thanks though. I don’t know what I’m going to do with my room yet. I might change my mind when I see yours.”
They stopped at the mouth of the trailer, surveying the stacks of boxes squeezed and tucked all the way to the roof. The rest of the day would be a long trek of unpacking, but at least the sun shone on the top of the mountain.
***
Chapter 5
Molly and Chaz Caleman rated “decent” on Savannah’s scale, as siblings went, and the majority of the high marks went to Molly. Close to two years separated the girls in age, and just over seven years separated Chaz from Molly. Complain as they would about Chaz and his acts of torment, the girls looked out for their little brother with ferocity, just as Savannah did for Molly.
The family remained close as ever, with lengthy sessions of talking to Mother about school and friends as she took turns brushing the girl’s hair before bed at night. Savannah still looked forward to that alone time with her mom the way she did when she was a little girl. Sometimes, Mother would lean forward and whisper in her ear, “Don’t tell your brother or sister, but you know you’re my favorite, right?” When Savannah was younger that was the secret to take with her to the grave. Now that she was older, she was certain Mom told Molly the same thing while she brushed her hair, and that she said it to Chaz when she tucked him in at night.
There was no denying relation. Caleman genes dictated coffee brown hair and dark hazel eyes. The girls teased Chaz, saying that if he grew his hair to his butt, too, which was Daddy’s rule for the females in the family, he’d look like their sister. Mother had long hair, too, but where her children had dark hair, brows and fans of black lashes around their eyes, Caroline was fair, honey blonde, and blue-eyed. Her children looked nothing like her side of the family. Not even her mother’s nose, or her chin made it into play when her babies’ alleles aligned. Caleman traits were strong.
Strength of heredity was a mystery when Savannah considered why she was the only one in the family with poor vision. She was given her first pair of prescription glasses at the age of three, and had needed them to see as myopia blurred her vision worse and worse each year. When she was eleven, the family optometrist suggest hard contact lenses to give her clearer sight than the pop-bottle bottom lenses and thick, plastic frames she wore in order to function. She gratefully wore the contacts daily to avoid being referred to as “Four-Eyes.” Her new look stumped some of the boys at school, the shocked, one-time teasing bullies staring at her with appreciation. The damage was done, though.
Jesse Freeman, the small high school’s star quarterback was the first to act during their Junior year. The Homecoming dance was an event that Savannah learned to ignore after realizing she never had the chance to go. The dance came and went each year and she wouldn’t have noticed except for the pep rallies and all the posters student council made to decorate the hallways. That all changed abruptly when Jesse waited for her after French class and insisted on picking up her notebook when she dropped it.
“Here ya go,” he said, handing the doodle-laden book out for her to take.
Savannah took it, not knowing whether to smile and thank him or grab the notebook and run before the other boys, or even some girls, started making fun of her.
Too much anxiety over a freaking dropped book. She looked from his eyes, which were pretty amazing, back to her books and pencil case. The cutest boy in school stood closer to her than he had since the second grade, but it was just because there was a line of people coming out of the classroom, so he had to wait a second before he could leave. She didn’t bother making eye contact again.
“Thanks,” she said, and turned to go to her locker.
“Hold on,” he said. “So, you coming to the game Saturday?”
“Not likely,” she replied, wondering why he cared. She arranged her books in the order of size, fidgeting. The French book was the biggest, then her notebook, then her planner. Her pen case rested neatly beside the spiral wires. She might’ve been awkward but her books were neat as heck.
“Do you need help with French or something?” He was a jock, and there had to be a reason for him to talk to her with other people around.
“Nope.” He smiled at her, shaking his head.
Savannah couldn’t help but look at him when that happened. Confusion, nervousness, and awe. They got together and made her turn beet red. She held her ground, cheating a huge strand of long hair behind an ear.
“I just wanted to tell you, I mean now that you ditched the glasses, you have really pretty eyes.” His smile remained. “You didn’t tell anyone else you’d go to the dance with them already, did you?”
“No,” she stammered. “But you know, so many guys asking, I just don’t know what to do,” she joked.
“Oh,” he said, grin fading. “That’s what I get for waiting until it’s only a week away.”
“Yep. You know, the early bird … and stuff.”
“Guess so.” Jesse started walking in the direction of her locker, not his, which was so, completely weird for her.
“I was kidding. No one else has asked.” She watched the pattern of the carpet scoot by under each foot step.
“Really? That’s great. I mean,” he looked over at her, slowing his pace. “So, will you go with me?”
Savannah stopped walking, a little pissed at his gall to take sarcasm to a new level. There was no need. They’d made it to the hall by the library. There was no one to impress with his not-so-sly mockery.
“Look. I’m really not impressed. Ha ha. Great job teasing me.” She bent down in front of the row of lockers and started thumbing her combination into the round lock. Jesse remained beside her, probably basking in bully glory, taking in the rewards of getting a girl like her all twitterpated. She ignored his presence and started exchanging her text books, waiting for a comment about “Crazy Caleman Girls” to fall out of his face.
“Hey, I’m serious. I’m asking you to Homecoming,” he said.
She looked up at him, skeptically. He seemed pretty sincere. “Really?”
“Yeah. Really.”
“That would be great.” The words came out seemingly all on their own. She forced herself to exhale after realizing she wasn’t breathing.
“Great. So, I gotta get to class. Think about coming to the game first, okay?”
“I’ll think about it,” she said, watching him jog down the hall the way only a confident, cute, starting football player could. Her whole body tingled like she dipped herself in a tank of Pop Rocks. It was real. Jesse actually liked her enough to be seen with her at Homecoming.
That weekend Molly went to Cripple Creek with her to watch the football game. Savannah had never sat through one before and she kept it low key so she didn’t applaud the wrong team or something dumb to embarrass Jesse.
Afterward, their mom took an hour to curl all of Savannah’s hip-length hair into a flowing mass of curls that was pinned up at the sides with rhinestone barrettes. Savannah wouldn’t need to polish her nails because she ate every one of them to the quick while her hair was being done. Jesse picked her up in his black Chevy truck, taking the time to open the door for her after her parents made them stand for about five minutes worth of Polaroid photos. Jesse was practiced, apparently, because he knew when to stand just behind her. He didn’t seem to feel awkward at all, but Savannah felt like a jack-o-lantern at an Easter egg hunt. He’d bought her a wrist corsage with a pink rose in it, which made her completely giddy. She retained a firm foothold on Cloud 9, wondering how long she’d be graced with the feeling before reality set in.
The dance was a blast even though she didn’t really know how to. They left a little early and Savannah didn’t know why, but she consented to “parking” by not asking why Jesse pulled his truck over w
hen she thought he was taking her home. The night had nearly ended far to early.
He told her everyone was doing it. She tried to relax but as things happened, as much as she wanted to think she enjoyed her first time, it was clear that neither she nor Jesse knew what the heck they were doing. The next day she wished she would have thought it through.
The deed was done, she was completely infatuated, and Jesse racked up another notch on his tailgate, which he bragged about. Savannah was no longer just rumored to be a Crazy Caleman, she was then an Easy Nutjob.
At school on Monday she found out they weren’t going steady, even after what they’d done. Jesse avoided her after French, walking right by, and instead of at least saying “hi”, he just engaged in some raucous shoving with some other guys. Savannah wiped her smile away and ducked into the line of kids, trying to become as invisible as she was pre-dance and pre-deflowering.
From that point on and through her senior year, she fell right back into the old groove. Savannah didn’t trust boys. They were cruel to her and that would never be forgotten, and it still hurt some. Savannah did her best to overcome shyness and gain some confidence, even beginning to manage the debilitating fear of loud noises. An unexpected clap of thunder could still put her on her knees, though.
The singular district school was a kindergarten-through-twelfth-grade facility in Cripple Creek, and instead of being driven out of the canyon to school every morning, the Caleman children caught the bus exactly two curves up the dirt road at a Y in the gravel. Homework was done on the long bus rides because chores greeted them before school and waited at the gate when they got home. A few short weeks remained in the school year. After that, Savannah would be free of bus rides to high school forever. The days grew longer and the upcoming summer was going to be the best, since they weren’t stuck down in the canyon any more.
On horseback, Savannah, Molly, and Dad drove the cattle up a draw that cut like a big ditch between the hills. With a direct route three mountains away, the new house was half a day’s ride from their old ranch on the Shelf Road, and the girls were excited when their dad told them to saddle up before sunrise to bring in the cows. They’d always been told they were too little or too young before.
Savannah’s horse, Mabeline, a stocky Quarter Horse who’s name always inspired a smile, pawed and nipped at the lazy steers’ flanks with determination lacking in the other, not-as-cool nag Molly rode. After that, the remaining horses were trailered in, chickens hauled over in gunny sacks, and the tractors parked neatly behind the barn.
Ranch life hiccuped over the relocation and continued with gusto at the Witcher Place. The new property was huge as it turned out, taking up the top of their mountain and a sprawling meadow at the base of hillside where an enthusiastic little creek surged.
One of Savannah’s new responsibilities was to count cows, and after she rode for the count, she spent time familiarizing herself. Raspberry bushes coated the gravel at the base of the next mountain over. Feisty brook trout popped at flies in the creek. Pale blue mayflowers exploded into bloom despite chill, beckoning summer to oust the remnants of winter. The days warmed quickly and impending summer infused the air with excitement.
Mabeline enjoyed each outing and relished being released into her stall for post-ride rubdowns. Savannah loved how the mare’s dapples gleamed in her coat of soft grey and charcoal fur. She kissed her muzzle and latched the gate, securing the mare for the night.
The new barn was smaller than the one on the Shelf Road, but it hosted a full tack shed, a med room and birthing area, electric lighting, and individual runs that opened at the back of each stall. Fresh hay bales would insulate the far end after the first cutting down in the bottom meadow. Savannah saw that each saddle rested straight on the racks and each shovel and pitchfork hung clean by sixteen-penny nails in even rows.
The evenings chilled quickly at sundown, an event always announced by a subtle breeze across the walk from the barn to the house. High pitched notes lilted from the porch as the round chime swayed from a cup-hook. It could have been because she’d grown up, or because she paid no attention before, but there was rarely a pleasant mix of tone from the old chime. Rather, the hollow bars were too small for good sound and rang with discord. Although, finishing touches were just that, and the chime made the house home.
The move was complete, right down to the last chicken in the coop and antique lace sheer over a window. Old furniture was donated to the church for needy families since the Witcher Place offered a full set. Astonishingly enough, Mother’s décor blended well, making the house feel new, except for the curtains. Sunlight prevailed since they lived on a mountain top instead of deep in the canyon at the old ranch. Mother’s curtains weren’t just yellowed from age, as it turned out. Ambient light showed dingy stains from her cigarette smoke.
The new cat painting had been moved to hang regally over the fireplace in the den, the mountain lion’s darkened eyes scrutinizing each move from above. Savannah had seen paintings with that quality before; the way a person’s gaze could make eye contact from any angle, and the cat mastered that ability to the point of being downright scary. Being lured to curl up and read by a warm fire was short-lived. Her concentration was broken soon after when the thing’s stare burned into the top of her head.
Worse was the way her dad began to stand in front of the painting sipping coffee. His movements proceeded slowly, measured with care, so his eyes didn’t leave the art while he got a swig from his cup. There was a study that Dad had taken for his office and he spent his evenings in there. Between the study and the time he spent staring at the picture, Savannah missed him a lot. Not a word was said while he just stood there, which was new between them.
Savannah leaned in the doorway watching one morning to see just how long he remained, but had to give up so she didn’t miss the bus, leaving her dad staring at a dark-eyed cat for God only knew how long. He ignored her goodbye.
“What’s up with Daddy lately?” Savannah kicked at gravel, waiting for the bus with her siblings. No one answered. She’d meant the question more for her sister, so it didn’t bother her that Chaz ignored the question, continuing to sweep rocks with a sprig from a pine tree.
“Hello?” She waved a hand in front of her sister’s face.
“Nothing. Why?” Molly snapped. Her green-brown eyes searched the road as she hugged textbooks to her chest.
“No need to get snippy.”
“I’m not being snippy. You just need to quit interrogating me.” Molly tossed an uncombed mass of hair over her shoulder.
“Are you feeling okay?” Savannah gave her little sister a once over. One shoe was untied but her clothes were clean. White knuckles gripped her books so hard the rest of her hands were bright pink and there was a flat spot at the back of her head that Molly hadn’t bothered to fix that morning. A little blob of sleepy goo hung in the corner of her left eye.
Molly slammed her books to the ground and whirled on Savannah. “I said to leave me alone!” Tears welled, but she didn’t cry, just clamped her jaw tight and bent to get her things. Rumbling sounded up the road, signaling the impending arrival of the school bus. Chaz stared at them, watching Molly retrieve the books from the gravel. Savannah was stunned to silence.
When the double doors swished open, Chaz ran on first and plunked into a seat. Molly tossed her books onto the bench right behind the bus driver and turned toward the window with her arms locked over her chest.
Choosing a seat close to her sister, Savannah tried to avoid thinking about what happened, but an uneasy knot pulled together in her stomach. They were too close to have something unexplained between them. She counted Molly as her friend, more than just her little sister. Molly’s actions were unlike her, and a combination of hurt and dread clutched deep in her chest. When they arrived at school, Molly dove off the bus and disappeared into the cluster of kids pushing through the doors.
* * *
Playing cards wasn’t something Caroline Calema
n did often any more, so when Savannah found Chaz and her mother enthusiastically telling each other to “go fish,” she was both impressed and intrigued.
Chaz was in the lead, with his matched pairs displayed like a neat column of trophies on the carpet next to him. Mother sat cross legged opposite and drew a card.
“Wanna play?” Chaz perked, obviously enjoying the game. He grinned, pointing to his winnings.
“Sure,” Savannah said. She pulled up next to them to wait for the current game to end so she could be dealt in.
“I’ve probably wasted enough time already.” Mother dropped her cards in a mess and stood.
“Aw, c’mon. I was winning,” Chaz protested, but Mother left the room without a backward glance. Chaz sighed, his enthusiasm dashed.
“I’ll play her hand.” Picking up the cards their mother dropped, Savannah moved into place, facing her little brother. “What’s the story with Mom?”
“I don’t know. She wanted to play cards and then didn’t want to finish the game.” He shrugged. “Maybe she didn’t want to lose,” he said, with a little grin. “So now you can lose for her.”
Despite the little pang of hurt at her mom’s abrupt way of leaving the room, Savannah smiled. “Don’t count your chickens, mister.” She winked and dropped a set of threes. Chaz asked for a ten, to which she replied, “Do go fish, sir.”
Chaz drew from the deck, dropped his group of tens, and shoved both skinny arms into the air.
“I win!” he chirped.
“Great. I’ve been beat by an eight-year-old,” she teased.
“Deal ‘em,” he replied down an upturned nose.
“Chaz, come help me set the table for dinner. Your sister has homework,” called Mother. Savannah stopped, mid-shuffle, turning her head toward the kitchen.
“One more quick game,” she tested. “I did my homework on the bus.”