Chasing Atlantis (2 page)

“Mom, I really am happy to be here. Thanks for having me.” She turned back content. I can’t believe that worked.

The rest of the car ride passed in much the same fashion. I felt myself slowly nodding off. I continued gazing out the window until we pulled off the highway onto the familiar exit. Vero Beach always seemed like two cities rolled into one. I could never understand it.

On one side were the middle class. Across the bridge to the east side were some of the wealthiest homes to ever exist. There are sunny beaches and secret coves that seem to stretch on forever. Unbelievably there are lots of trees, more than any beach city should have.

When I heard the sound of the ocean I knew we were close to the house. I couldn’t say the word home. This place never felt like home to me. I looked up to see the giant house, black against the not quite dark June sky. The house was innocent enough with light colored brick and a nicely manicured lawn with nice, soft, squishy green grass and exotic flowers with names I could never remember. It could have come out of a movie it was so pretty. It looked perfect, too perfect. It wasn’t natural to have a house so flawless. My favorite thing about the house, the only thing I liked about the house, was that it overlooked the ocean.

My room was on the third floor, all to myself, complete with a little balcony that overlooked the ocean. I always felt safe there somehow.

I jumped out of the car before it came to a complete stop, unable to sit any longer. It felt so good to stand up and stretch. I loved the gentle pull that tugged on my arms and back. My calves were especially grateful for the break.

Steve walked around to the back to retrieve my suitcase. I walked to the door beside Mom. She fumbled with the keys for a minute. I wondered if she’d ever even open the door before in her life.

“
Oh I hope you like the new furniture! We got some new pieces and rearranged it.”

“I’m sure it will look good, Mom.” The first honest thing I’ve said all day.

As we entered the house the first thing that caught my eye was the brand new bright red couch; it was one of those modern ones with an unusual shape that never really had a purpose. I ran my fingers around the edge of the shiny metal coffee table. There wasn’t a speck of dust. It always creeped me out that the house was completely spotless. It felt too clean, as if no one lived here. The whole house was covered with the bright strangely shaped furniture and shiny, cold metal appliances. The only things that I recognized were the curtains and throw pillows.

The house could be beautiful, except there was something somber about it. It was too big to hold only three people, and our sometimes live-in maid Gabriela. It was probably just my overactive imagination and the long day playing tricks on my mind, but the house was very ominous.

“Gabriela dear, come greet Amy Jane. She has returned to us.” Mom was already checking her events calendar for the horrible day that was yet to come. A slight shuffling sound made me whirl around. I was shocked to find Steve directly behind me. I hadn’t heard him make a sound, much less come in the house. He grinned slightly and set my suitcase down silently. He flowed gracefully into the master bedroom without another sound. I didn’t like knowing that he could move around without causing any notice, it shouldn’t have bothered me but it did.

Whoa. I was starting to crack under the long day. I just need some sleep. That’s it, once I get some sleep I should be sane tomorrow. Hopefully.

A warm hand on my shoulder made me aware of a tall dark haired girl with the warmest smile I’d seen in days. Her smile was con
tagious. I felt myself smiling, awkwardly, back at her.

“It’s good to have you back, Ms. Jackson.”

“Good to see you too, Gabriela.” The second honest thing I’d said all day. She was the one person I could truly trust here. The only person that somewhat understood me.

“Gabriela, take her things upstairs. She’s had a long day and probably wants to get ready for bed.” Before I could object to Mom’s mandate Gaby was already halfway upstairs, carrying my heavy suitcase like it was nothing. I muttered a good night to my mom and scrambled up the stairs after her, tripping over my feet twice.

When we were finally out of sight I wrestled my suitcase from her. I didn’t want to add unnecessary stress to her. It was bad enough that Mom and Steve treated her like less than human because she had to work for them. I didn’t really know the full story about her, but I think something must have happened to her parents. I know that she took care of her younger siblings without any help from an early age, and I think that she had a fiancée too. I envied her courage, she was bravest person I’d ever met. I also respected the fact that she hadn’t poisoned Mom and Steve off yet. Maybe she was waiting until she was in the will.

Once we were in my room I threw my arms around her in an unusual hug. She was much taller than I was so I ended up hugging her waist and she bent down to lock me in a bear hug.

“Gaby, I really did miss you a lot! How have you been? What have you been up to? I want to know everything.” She threw her head back and laughed at my eager expression.

“I’ll tell you everything soon enough.” She unhinged my arms and set me gently on the bed. Dang she must have been lifting weights, she was unusually strong. “You look exhausted. Try and get some sleep. From what I understand you have a very long day tomorrow.” She flashed me an evil smile.

I groaned and rolled onto my side. I forgot how wonderful this bed felt. I just wanted to close my eyes and never move from this amazing bed.

“Get some rest Amy. You’re going to need it.” I was barely aware of the light shutting off and the door closing. I was far too exhausted from the mental torture I had been put through to take a shower or even change into my pajamas.

As I was slipping towards sleep I was trying to prepare myself for whatever lay in wait for me tomorrow. I could feel my stomach knotting as the feeling of dread started creeping over my body. It radiated from my stomach to the rest of my limbs making me restless. As exhaustion and dread raged a war with my imagination, exhaustion finally won. I drifted restlessly toward sleep.

2.

Confrontation

I awoke to the harsh Florida sun shinning through the pink curtains. As I let my eyes slowly adjust to the light I remembered why I despised this room. Everything was pink, pink, and even more pink! The walls, the bedspread, sheets, curtains and even down to the pillows. Pink isn’t a bad color, I don’t even mind wearing it some days. A whole room is a completely different matter. This is the one room in the house that has never changed. I’m pretty sure that Mom did this to make me even crazier than I already am.

I stretched all my muscles, all of which were stiff from flying. Something yellow caught my eye on the door. I jumped off the bed, in my sleepy state I misjudged the distance, and nearly collided with the door. Mental note to self: look before you jump off something first thing in the morning. I yanked the note from the door.

Amy Jane,

Since you have decided to sleep in all day I’m off doing my daily activities. We will be calling on the Grey family at three sharp. Adam really has grown into a fine-looking young man. He’ll be happy to see you again, and I hope you feel the same.

Love,

Mom

I shuddered. The Greys are such a weird family. I always felt like they were analyzing my every movement, waiting for something terrible or wonderful to occur. It was just plain creepy. And ugh! How could I forget Adam? The kid had a nose that could have been justifiably called a beak. It resembled a growth that was permanently stuck to his face. It didn’t help that Mom was always trying to force him on me. So I was already dead-set on hating the kid.

I threw open the doors to the balcony, welcoming the wonderful briny ocean smell. I almost forgot that there was one thing that I loved without question or reason, the one thing that made Vero Beach bearable; the ocean. I loved the constant crashing of the waves against the sand; the bluish-greenish colors that were always fighting each other for dominance of the sea; the reckless feeling of throwing your whole body against the waves. I loved it all. The only problem was that I couldn’t swim that well. I could barely swim at all.

To my major disappointment the ocean was completely calm. Omen number one on my list of what will make this a horrible day. I ran my hand so roughly through my hair I’m amazed that it’s still there.

I stood there on the balcony contemplating throwing myself off the balcony as opposed to going to the Greys when a wonderful idea popped into my head. I glanced at the clock, eleven thirty. I had about two and a half solid hours to work with. I dug in my suitcase for my favorite blue swimsuit, a tank top and shorts. After attempting to brush through my disheveled hair, I realized it was in subtle mutiny of working with me, and quickly changed into my clean clothes.

When I got to the kitchen I grabbed a banana and a bottle of water. It took me a few minutes before I could find the keys to my—dare I say call it by this name—car.

I walked in to the garage hoping, no almost praying that there would be a Jeep, or some kind of little pick-up truck waiting for me. I wasn’t that fortunate. There waiting for me was a bright blue Mini Cooper. It wasn’t a bad car, and I never turned my nose up at a free gift, it’s just that I wanted a car that made me feel strong and protected with some style. Not one that could be passed by an ant.

I jumped in and started the ant-sized vehicle. I backed out carefully, narrowly avoiding the other cars in the too crowded driveway. I searched the radio for something good as I drove down the familiar winding road, curving one way then the next. I let my hair blow wildly around me from the warm wind coming in from the open windows. The Florida sun felt so much more inviting than the Texas sun did, somehow.

After twenty minutes of driving I finally saw what I was looking for: the tourist beaches. The tourist beaches were impossible to miss, especially in the summer when all the northerners came down to enjoy them. All along the beach were quaint little boutique’s and ice cream parlors designed to snag any newcomers. Anyone who had lived in Vero Beach would probably tell you that they’ve seen the same clothes on the mannequins since the boutiques opened.

Of course there was no parking near the beaches so I parked off one of the side streets. I could still hear the crashing of the waves; it was comforting to me. I walked, almost skipped, toward the sound.

Even from a distance it was easy to spot the northerners and tourists from the natives. The northerners, for the most part, were varying shades of ghostly white, spotted here and there with freckles, often with dark hair and eyes that complemented their ivory skin.

My favorite—and I use this term loosely—are the tourists. What is it about them that you can spot them no matter where you are? Tourists’ families usually consist of several elements that complement a horrid cycle. Element number one is generally that the father figure of the group will resort to wearing a Hawaiian shirt, cargo shorts, flip flops, and my personal favorite the oversized camera hanging from the neck. Element number two is the mother figure; usually she would be in outfits many sizes to small, with make-up caked on so thick that the original intention is lost in the clumped mess. The last and final element is usually, but not always, the children of elements number one and two that are horrifically embarrassed by them and will try to avoid them at any and all costs. Unless the children have been brainwashed into thinking that their parents are cool. Poor souls, I pity them most of all.

I don’t necessarily consider myself a native, but at times I feel as if I know this unchanging city better than my own. Most of the natives are tan from long days on the beach, with fair hair and light eyes, so am I. If anything I looked like I belonged here than any other place, and that thought alone was enough to make me cringe.

I leaned against the weathered wooden fence as I scanned the beach. I lifted my face to the warm summer sun, so that I could soak up the delicious heat. The constant rushing sound of the waves was harder here, yet somehow still comforting to me.

When I looked back towards the ocean I couldn’t help but be shocked by its beauty. The way the wave rises and the blue green colors of the water constantly fight for dominance in the sun, then the wave crashes, melting the colors back together, and the whole process will start over again.

The laughter of naughty children broke my train of thought. I felt my mouth turn up in a smile in spite of the previous day’s troubles. I didn’t want to think about them right now, not just yet.

I practically hopped across the little weathered wooden bridge connecting the road to the sand. I scooped up my sandals and let my feet adjust to the steaming hot sand. Once I realized how hot the sand was I tried unsuccessfully to hide the hot feet dance by walking faster and bouncing up and down, several people snickered. I navigated my way through the sardine packed beach and found a nice little spot near the water, right on the edge of the hot white crunchy sand and the dark brown water stained mud. I cooled my feet in the mud and every so often the water would rise up to tickle my feet.

I must have sat there in my own bubble of serenity for several minutes before I realized that every female’s eyes were glued to something on my right. Women and even younger teens were angling their bodies to show off their assets. Every male took a defensive pose around their girlfriends or wives, strutting like peacocks in a vague attempt to keep their lover’s attention.

Without coherently realizing what I was doing, I found myself following the gaze of all the others, and there
they
were. Of course that’s what all the fuss was about: the lifeguards.

There were three of them. The must have been related because all three of the gorgeous boys had the same shimmering tan skin, dark hair, and perfect figures. Each strand of their glittering black hair glistened in the sun, and all three of their perfect faces were indescribably breathtaking except their eyes were hidden from view with dark sunglasses. It didn’t seem fair that the three of them should be that handsome at the same place. Every other man on the beach paled horrifically next to them.

A huge rock began to sink further and further into the pit of my stomach. Not just because of their beauty, though that certainly didn’t hurt, but because of a very eerie sensation that I had met them somewhere before. It seemed both a long time ago, and not that far off. There was a haze on my brain that I couldn’t shake off when I looked at them. I started to become very frustrated with trying to figure out what social event my mother might have dragged me along to that I could have met them. That was probably only wishful thinking.

The lifeguard that seemed most familiar to me was sitting up high on one of those special lifeguard chairs. He was staring ahead at the beach constantly moving his head very slowly, scanning the troublesome water. Something inside of me screamed that it wanted me to run up and throw my arms around him. I don’t ever remember feeling this way about anyone before, but there it was like I had always known it, without any real proof that it had ever existed. The dark haze muddled my brain again. I was starting to get a throbbing headache.

The other two boys were leaning against the stilts of the chair, their graceful bodies poised like figurines. Any supermodel would have felt self-conscious near them, much less us mundane people. We never had a shot. None of the three seemed to notice their audience. Or maybe they just didn’t care.

I wanted to stop staring at them, to desperately stop trying to recognize them, to put a name with the faces. I couldn’t.

The one nearest me shifted his stance. His neck arched smoothly from side to side, this time dancing over the gawkers on the beach. I could almost feel his eyes moving slowly, analyzing everything, but the dark tinted sunglasses wouldn’t allow me to prove that I was right.

Finally his head tilted to my direction. He stopped dead.

I felt his eyes lock on to mine. His hands clasped together over his mouth in what I could only guess to resemble shock. His muscular chest began heaving up and down as if he were panting. I unconsciously felt my hand entwine in my hair. The lifeguard’s abrupt change in attitude left me very uneasy.

In a futile attempt to unlock my eyes from his I dug my feet deeper and deeper into the sand while the huge rock in my stomach sank down into my toes. The other lifeguard leaning against the stilts must have found something amusing. He turned to point something out to his sibling but stopped once he realized some
thing was wrong. He followed the other’s gaze and froze when he saw me. Finally they released me from their penetrating stares.

Is there something wrong with me? Was I sitting in some kind of no sit zone? I frantically looked around for signs, for some answer to the unusual behavior. I definitely wasn’t dressed indecently compared to most of the other women on the beach.

I turned my head as far from them as possible while still keeping them in my peripheral; I didn’t want to get caught in their penetrating stares again. My fingers twirled my hair furiously. I glanced over out of the side of my eyes to see the two boys whispering diligently between each other. Every now and then would stop to glare alarmingly at me.

I realized with horror that every female that had once been watching the lifeguards had now turned to look at me. They grew more excited with agitation as the boys continued to ignore them, and stare angrily at me. Lucky them. Each pair of eyes turned to scrutinize me, trying to decide what terrible secrets I held, making me more uncomfortable by the minute. It’s like that terrible dream where you realize you don’t have pants on and everyone is staring at you, unfortunately this isn’t a dream.

Then I couldn’t breathe.

The last and most familiar of the boys had finally noticed what half the beach was staring at by now. Our eyes locked, in that second I felt that intangible urge to throw my arms around his perfect body and never let go. My head throbbed like it had never hurt before. I felt dizzy, sick, and breathless.

Slack-jawed and clearly agitated he gracefully leapt from the chair onto his feet. Both boys grabbed him and whispered urgent messages I couldn’t begin to understand. He brushed them off with a simple wave of his hand. H
e started towards me.

If I was nervous before I was completely erratic now. I tore my eyes off his face and pretended to look at the ocean. I placed my hands in my lap and interlocked my fingers. I didn’t want to take any chances with this strange feeling. My breath quickened with every approaching step. My stomach was practically in my feet it had crashed through my body. My throat tightened.

Is he still coming towards me? What does he want? What if it’s not me? I’ve lost my mind. Vero Beach has actually made me crazy in the few hours I’ve spent here.

All too soon he was there. He bent down so we were eye level.

“Hey.” The word was simple enough, but he wasn’t smiling. The sunglasses prevented me from seeing his eyes.

“Hi.” Was all I was able to mumble in return. It was so soft it may as well have been a squeak. His mouth was set in a grim frown.

“Um. Please understand I never thought it would come down to this, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” His voice had a soft edge to it, he was pleading with me. My mind couldn’t focus. I was incredibly confused by his tone and his actions.

“Uh…I don’t…excuse me?” I felt my eyes widen in shock as his words finally sunk in. “Did I do something wrong?” I could feel my face turning red from embarrassment.

“NO! It’s not that you did anything wrong. I’m so sorry it’s just that….”His words came out like a flood, one word slamming into the other in an almost unintelligible string. Then whatever he was going to say was lost forever as he changed his mind.