Zellie Wells Trilogy

by Stacey Wallace Benefiel

  The cow bell clanked as Avery walked through the glass door that read “Adams Insurance” in curly old fashioned script.

  His dad looked up from his desk, near the back wall of the small storefront. “Did you lock up your bike or leave it out there so that anyone walking by could take it for a spin?”

  Avery flung his backpack down on the floor next to the old black leather sofa that used to be in their living room at home. It now occupied the “waiting area” in his dad’s office, even though it was only about five feet from his desk. “No one’s gonna take it, Dad.” Avery flopped onto the sofa, slouching down low so that his dad had to look over the stack of files on his desk to see him.

  “This may be a small town, but that doesn’t mean that bad things don’t happen. If that were the case, I’d be out of a job. Go lock it up.” He finished filling out a stack of forms he had been working on and tossed them into his “out” box.

  Avery rose from the couch with incredible slowness, as if moving at a more reasonable pace would kill him.

  “All right Mr. Wiseass, instead of locking up your bike why don’t you go pick up our suits from the dry cleaners.” His dad shifted forward in his chair and pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his khakis.

  Avery froze in mid-sloth. “Why are our suits at the dry cleaners? Did someone die?”

  “No, someone did not die. I thought we should look nice for Zellie Wells’ birthday party next weekend. Plus, it’s been awhile since we’ve had our suits cleaned.” He flipped a twenty toward his son. It floated in the space between them for a split second and then fell at Avery’s feet.

  He bent down and picked it up, cramming it into his jeans pocket. “Why do I have to wear a suit, anyways? I’m going to look like a total dork. Jason’s dad isn’t going to make him--”

  “Jason’s dad doesn’t make him do anything and that’s why Jason is a spoiled brat. You are wearing a suit because you’re going to be in church and because I’m wearing a suit. End of discussion. You better get over there. They close early on Fridays.”

  Avery grabbed his backpack and slung it over his left shoulder. “How am I supposed to carry two suits on my bike?”

  “You’ll think of something.” He pulled a stack of papers from his “in” box and began filling them out.

  Avery made it to the dry cleaners just before closing and was now trying for the third time to ride his bike home without destroying the suits or himself. Steadying the bike with one hand and holding the suits up as high as he could with the other he attempted to pedal. The stupid plastic dry cleaning bags kept getting wrapped up in the spokes of his back wheel, throwing him off balance and shredding the bottoms of the bags.

  “Damn it!” He threw the suits to the ground, sprang from his bike and walked away from the whole mess, leaving his bike and the suits lying in the middle of the empty residential street.

  He sat down on the curb. He could not wait until he turned sixteen in July, no more running errands on his lousy bike!

  “I couldn’t help but notice what a total jackass you were making of yourself. Wanna use my phone to call your mom?”

  Claire was standing above him holding out her red glittery cell phone.

  “Thanks. That would be really cool.” Avery cringed at his words. He took the phone from Claire and dialed the number to Clear Cuts, the hair salon where his mom worked. “Yeah, hi, Juanita, it’s Avery, can I talk to my mom please.”

  “Oh, hi, sweetie!” Juanita said, her high pitched fake southern accent dripping with honey. “Let me get her...Becky, that adorable little son of yours is on the phone. Here she comes, sugar.”

  “Thanks.” Avery listened as Juanita laid the phone down. It slid off the reception desk and bounced on the floor. He heard his mom say “Oh shit!” and then “Sorry! Pardon my French.”

  His mom giggled into the phone. “Hi, honey, is everything okay?”

  “Uh, yeah, Dad sent me to pick up our suits from the dry cleaners and I’m having a really hard time getting them home on my bike. Could you come pick me up? I’m sitting on the curb in front of Claire Vargas’ house.”

  Avery turned and looked up. Claire was hovering over him reciting her address. Avery put his hand over the phone. “Everyone knows where you live Claire. Shhhh!”

  She stopped talking and sat down next to him on the curb.

  “Why the hell would your father have you pick up those suits on your bike? I swear sometimes I don’t know what goes through that man’s head. Of course I’ll come get you. It’s only fair, right?” His mom giggled again, more embarrassed this time. “I’m just finishing up with Mrs. Tucker. I’ll be over in a few minutes, okay?”

  “Okay, Mom. Thanks. See you in a few minutes.” Avery handed the phone back to Claire. “She’ll be here in a few minutes.”

  “So I hear.” Claire stood up from the curb, tugging her bright blue mini skirt down in an attempt to cover the stippled impression on the backs of her legs. “Do you want to come inside and have a pop or something?”

  Avery stood up. “Yeah, okay, let me just get all my crap out of the street.” He walked over to the bike and dragged it and the tangled up suits into the Vargas’ impeccably landscaped yard. He followed her into her house, a huge remodeled Victorian, probably one of the first houses built in Rosedell.

  Avery liked Claire. Not that they had ever really been close friends or anything, but they had known each other for awhile and she was pretty funny for a girl.

  Jason always said that Claire liked him and wanted to get in his pants, but Avery didn’t see her that way. Besides, she was Zellie’s best friend and he couldn’t risk messing up his chances with Zellie. That is, if he had a chance with her.

  He did want to know if Zellie liked him, but it wasn’t like he could come right out and ask Claire if she did. He knew Claire would just tell her. Then what if she didn’t like him? He didn’t know if he could stand it. He had spent so long liking Zellie and not doing anything about it, playing it safe, that he was used to not knowing. He hung out in the front hall while Claire went into the kitchen and got them each a pop.

  She opened the cans and set them on the granite countertop of the island. “You can come in here, y’know. My parents aren’t home.”

  Avery sat down at the island.

  “So,” Claire began, “you excited about Zellie’s party next weekend?”

  He shifted on the bar stool. “Um, yeah, it should be fun. Zellie’s cool.”

  Claire leaned further toward him, “Oh you think so, do you?”

  “Sure, yeah, I guess.” He took a long drink of his pop.

  She walked around the island and hoisted herself up onto the barstool next to him. “Interesting.”

  He tried his hardest to be nonchalant. “Whatever.”

  “Nice try, dude, but I can see right through you.” She nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. “You better ask her to dance at her party. If you wait too long someone else is going to come along and snap her up. She’s not going to wait forever, you know.”

  Avery looked down at the countertop, too shocked to make eye contact with Claire. How clueless was he? “Does everyone know I like her?”

  She chugged her pop, taking a long time to answer, and then let out an enormous belch. “Everyone but her, dude.”

  “Can we keep it that way until next weekend? I promise I will make a move,” he pleaded. “Awesome belch by the way.”

  Claire smiled. “Thank you. I aim to please.” She poked him in the chest, warning. “I’ll keep your secret, but if you don’t tell her soon, I’m going to. Watching the two of you pine after each other is getting ridiculous.”

  Avery suddenly felt very hot. “So, she likes me too?”

  Claire hopped down off the barstool, “Your mom’s here.”

  He looked toward the front door. “How did you know that?”

  “Uh, the doorbell rang. Wow. You really are a lost cause.” Claire pulled Avery from his barstool and pushed him toward the
front door, “See ya at youth group, lover boy.”

  “See you. Thanks for letting me use your phone.”

  The phone rang in my hand just as I was about to call Claire. “Hello?” I answered.

  “You will not believe who was just at my house!” Claire squealed.

  I heard her fling herself onto the leather sectional in her family room. Uh, oh, this was sure to be a long conversation. “Hey! I was just about to call you. Um, let me go into my room. Hold on.”

  I walked down the hall, shut my bedroom door, and plopped on my twin bed. “So, you will not believe what happened to me after school!”

  “It cannot be as good as what just happened here--”

  “Avery!” was the first word we both said. After that we talked over each other for a good three seconds.

  “Wait. What?” Claire said. “He talked to you! What did he say? Tell me everything!”

  “He was in your house! You tell me everything!” I got up from my bed and started to pace around the room. These developments were too exciting to be lying down.

  “Okay, so he was trying to ride his bike and carry dry cleaning at the same time.”

  “Why did he have dry cleaning? What was it?” I needed absolutely every detail.

  “Well, from what I gather, it was the suit that he is going to wear to your birthday party. So, anyways, the bag kept getting caught in his wheels and he got all mad and threw a fit. I went outside to do some recon. I pretended to get the mail and there he was sitting on the curb in front of my house, so I asked him if he needed to borrow my phone.”

  “Oh, my God.” Claire was so brave, she could talk to hot boys like they were normal people.

  “Yeah, so he calls his mom and she couldn’t come pick him up for a few minutes, so I invited him inside for a pop.”

  “Oh, my God. What kind?”

  “Of pop? Coke. So then I ask him about your party and if he’s looking forward to it and he said that he was and that you’re cool!”

  “He thinks I’m cool? No freaking way!” I felt like I was going to pass out. “What else did he say?”

  “Zellie, I think there’s a very good chance that Avery is going to ask you to dance at your party.” Claire giggled.

  “I will totally die!” I would, I totally would. “Do you think he really will?”

  “Yes, for sure, I could almost guarantee it. So what happened after school? What’s up with all of this Avery interaction?”

  “Well,” I took in a deep breath, “I was standing over by the bike racks waiting for my mom to pick me up and he just like, appeared next to me! It was super windy and my hair was blowing everywhere and I pulled it back, but missed a little and he--”

  Mom peeked her head in the door. “I need your help with dinner.”

  I nodded and then pointed to the phone. She nodded back and closed the door. “Crap. My mom needs help with dinner. I’ll have to tell you the rest tomorrow.”

  “I can’t wait!” Claire said, “I’ll see you at ten.”

  Claire climbed into the back of our decrepit blue minivan in as ladylike a manner as she could while wearing a denim miniskirt. I could hardly keep a straight face watching her. Grace was her middle name as well. Okay, Graciella, but still. “I think it might be time to invest in some skorts my friend.”

  She snorted. “Oh, I think you’ve got that market covered Corduroy. Hey, Pastor Paul.”

  “Good morning. I trust your parents know that we’re going to Bend today?” he said into the rearview mirror.

  Claire slammed the van door shut. “Yup. I left them a note.”

  Dad popped a Rolling Stones cassette into the ancient tape player as we made our way out of town. It was either that or Gospel Elvis and the drive to Bend was desolate and ranch laden. Some tunage was a must.

  The minivan creaked and moaned as we drove into the parking lot of Party Depot, and then shuddered when Dad turned off the ignition.

  “Are you sure this thing is still going to be drivable by the time I get my license?” I asked. We all got out.

  Dad shut his door, not even bothering to lock it. “I’m just hoping it lasts you through Driver’s Ed this summer. I don’t think it’ll be making too many more out of town trips.” He kicked the front tire. “So, I thought we’d get the decorations here and then head over to the mall and look at some dresses. Sound good?”

  I gave him a knowing smile, thankful he hadn’t forgotten about a new dress. “Sounds good.”

  After we left the Party Depot with two big bags crammed full of decorations in my fave colors, pink and green, we stopped at the food court in the mall for pizza. When we were finished consuming eleventy billion calories, Dad handed me three twenties.

  “Sorry it can’t be more, honey.”

  I gave him a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. “It’s plenty. Thank you.” It totally was. I figured he’d been putting stuff on the emergency credit card to even be able to give me sixty bucks. Sale dresses here I come!

  “You girl’s have fun dress shopping. I’ll be in Kitchen Kaboodle perusing the latest Barefoot Contessa.”

  “Thanks again, Dad.”

  He gave me a wink and went on his way.

  “Alone at long last!” Claire said, linking her arm with mine and dragging me into Macy’s. “I want to know every second of everything that happened with Avery.”

  I blushed spastically and made a beeline for the sales rack in the Juniors Department. “He...I can’t believe he actually did this, but like I was saying yesterday, my hair was blowing all around and he reached up and tucked it behind my ear and then I had no idea what to do next, but he just stayed put.” I pulled a lavender shift from the rack, holding it up for Claire’s opinion. She crinkled her nose. I threw the dress over my arm anyway and flipped through the rack some more. “I think we talked about the English practice test...I vaguely remember saying how much it sucked like eighty-two times. What about this green one?” Claire nodded her head yes. I eyed the rack. A lot of the dresses were too fancy; probably for prom. “I think these two are good, come with me while I try them on.”

  We walked into the dressing room. Claire sat on a chair in the corner and held the dresses. “So...”

  I yanked my shirt off over my head. “Then, I have no idea why I did this, I sort of turned toward him like this,” I turned, “and my hair was blowing right in his face, practically up his nose! It was totally embarrassing. But then I tried to pull my hair back again and he grabbed my wrist and told me not to!”

  “What? Why?” Claire took the lavender dress off the hanger and handed it to me.

  “This is my favorite part!” I stepped into the dress and turned so Claire could zip it up. “He said that it wasn’t bothering him and that he thought my hair was nice!”

  Claire zipped the dress up. “Oh, my God!”

  “I know, right? What do you think it means?” I looked at myself in the mirror, also crinkling my nose at this dress. Yuck-o-rama, I looked deadish. I turned back around and Claire unzipped it.

  A quiet chuckle escaped from the next dressing room.

  My eyes met with Claire’s and we burst out in laughter. Sometimes we got way out of hand with our “oh my god’s” and “totally’s”. We did actually have brains in our heads.

  The door to the other dressing room opened. We stuck our heads out of the room and saw a well dressed older lady with grey streaked auburn hair and an enormous brown leather pocketbook.

  “Sorry we were being so obnoxious!” Claire called, “I guess you couldn’t help but hear us.”

  The lady looked back. “You two remind me of my daughter and her best friend when they were teenagers.” She smiled at us and then walked out into the store.

  We ducked back into the dressing room. I held the lavender dress out to Claire and took the green one from the hanger, sliding it on. It flowed over my body, grazing all the right areas, brightening up the color of my eyes.

  Claire grinned. “That’s the one Zel. How much is
it?”

  I pulled the tag out from under my armpit. I hadn’t even bothered to look earlier. “$59.99, it was meant to be.”

  Chapter Four

  In youth group on Sunday, I hoped that Avery would talk to me again, but all he offered up was a kind “hello.” Had I been reading too much into our conversation on Friday? Claire, too? As we had proven at the mall, we were prone to being spazmatic and teenagery when it came to him. Maybe Avery was just being nice. That was probably it. I was such a dork, standing there letting my generic shampoo smelling hair blow up his nose. What’s that smell? Oh, eau de pathetic Jesus home-school girl? Check ya later. Ugh.

  The school week dragged on, more of the same, practice tests and peanut butter sandwiches. By Saturday, my birthday, I was ready to bust out of my skin. Avery or no Avery, I was finally sixteen. Thank freakin’ God.

  “I’m not really sure if I want to put the streamers up, Dad. What do you think? Does it seem too, uh, juvenile?” I stood in the middle of the church basement, surveying the pink and green streamers that Dad had spent the better part of an hour twisting and affixing around the room, dragging his ladder from corner to corner.

  “Honey, streamers are not juvenile. I had them at my fortieth birthday party in this very room, don’t you remember?” Dad ripped a strip of tape from the dispenser he had tucked under his arm and secured the last length of streamer above the door to his office.

  “The ones you had at your birthday were black, Dad. It was a joke. Don’t you remember old man?” I smiled and ran to him, hugging his legs. The streamers looked beautiful, whether they were juvenile or not.