In the Middle of Nowhere (7 page)

“How’d you end up in this shitty place?”

Tessa had a real way with words. I stared out
the window again. “My dad died when I was young and when my mom
lost her job, we couldn’t afford to stay in our home anymore. So my
mom, brother and I moved into my uncle’s house over on Juniper
Drive.”

“That sucks.”

That was rude, I thought, and a typical Tessa
response. I just shook my head. She must have realized how she
sounded and tried to backpedal.

“I don’t mean it sucks that you live at your
uncle’s. I mean it sucks that your father died.”

I was thoughtful for a moment, looked Tessa
in her steel blue eyes and nodded softly. “Yes. It does.”

• • •

Jaques’s truck pulled up a long, winding
driveway, lined with ancient oaks and soaring blue spruces. The
drive led to an enormous house that wasn’t visible from the road. I
couldn’t imagine how it remained so private considering its massive
size. The three-story house was covered in dark gray cedar shakes
with shiny black trim. The detached, four-car garage had thick, ivy
vines crawling up its stone side and seemed as though they had been
trained to grow perfectly around its Gothic-shaped windows. The
place reminded me of a grand Georgian estate that could be found
nestled somewhere in the lush, English countryside.

Tessa’s house had to be at least fifty times
the size of my uncle’s. I couldn’t believe that such extreme types
of dwellings existed on Pike’s Island and felt as though I was
completely in another world.

Jaques stopped the truck in front of the
arched, front entrance, which was mortared with stones similar to
those that adorned the outside of the garage. The heavy, double
wooden front doors were stained a deep, red mahogany and looked as
if it would take an army of people just to hold them open.

I climbed out of the truck and Tessa hopped
out after me. The three of us walked toward the front doors where
Jaques, like a true gentleman, held them open for us.

The foyer was beautiful with twenty-foot
ceilings and gray and white marble floors. A spiral staircase, with
a black, wrought iron banister stood to the right of us. I glanced
up and saw a huge, ornate crystal chandelier hanging in the middle
of the entrance, which, otherwise, was completely empty. A chilly
breeze passed through me as we stood inside the big foyer. I
shivered and crossed my arms in front of myself to keep warm.

Jaques and Tessa walked toward the back of
the house and I followed. We walked through a long hallway and
ended up in a family room and kitchen area. Like the rest of the
house, the two rooms were huge. Tall windows, which stretched from
the floor to the ceiling, covered the entire back wall and made the
whole space feel fully exposed to the elements.

Tessa walked left into the kitchen and opened
the stainless steel refrigerator.

“Wanna drink or something?”

“No thanks. I’m good,” I said as I walked
over to the windows and stared outside in awe.

The backyard, which wasn’t very big, had what
appeared to be an infinity pool and then beyond that a subtle drop
with the sandy beach and white-capped waves below. The view was
absolutely breathtaking, even in the middle of winter.

Tessa appeared next to me and offered me a
glass of iced tea.

“Nice, huh?”

I nodded and took the glass. “It’s beautiful.
I’d never get sick of it.”

“You would. Believe me,” Tessa said as she
turned, swung her hair and headed toward the family room. I
followed her and plopped down across from her on a comfy, sectional
leather sofa. Tessa switched on the big, flat screen TV.

I felt awkward. Jaques was nowhere in sight
and I didn’t know what to talk about. I didn’t want to just sit
there in silence and watch television.

I sipped my tea. “Where are your
parents?”

Tessa continued to watch television, but
answered. “In Portland. My father’s working over at the hospital
and my mother is busy running one of the dozens of charities that
she inherited from her parents, along with all their money.”

She shrugged and took a drink of her tea.
“Who knows? My dad will probably end up spending the night at our
other house in the city. My mom’s supposed to catch the last ferry
back here. She has some stupid charity breakfast in town early
tomorrow morning.”

“Do you stay in Portland a lot, too?”

“Yeah. My parents make me. They won’t let me
stay overnight if only Jaques is here. I don’t really mind ’cause I
hate taking that freakin’ ferry back and forth to school
anyway.”

Tessa turned away from the TV and stared out
the window.

“My parents don’t know it yet, but I’m
planning on spending every night here in the summer with or without
them.”

I nodded. No wonder I had never seen Tessa on
the ferry before, but I guess having all this wealth and privilege
didn’t mean much if no one was around to share it with you. I was
usually home by myself anyway, I figured, and would have loved the
chance to live among this kind of luxury, if even it was for one
day. Just sitting there, I was able to think of plenty of things I
could buy in order to make myself happy.

As I looked around and imagined my life
surrounded with such opulence, Tessa caught me.

“It gets old. Fast. Trust me,” she said.

From somewhere, deep within the house, a
grandfather clock chimed. I took my cell phone out of my coat
pocket, checked the time and panicked. I hadn’t realized how late
it was. I sprang up, accidentally spilling some of my tea on the
Oriental rug.

“I’m so sorry. Do you have towels I could use
to wipe it up?”

Tessa sat, unmoved. “Leave it. Katia, the
maid, will clean it up.”

“Are you sure?”

Tessa didn’t answer.

“I’m sorry to ask, but is there anyway for me
to catch a ride back to my house? It’s getting late and I should be
getting home.”

Tessa clicked off the television and walked
over to the granite-covered island. She put down her glass of iced
tea and grabbed a set of keys.

“Let’s go.”

“What about Jaques? Isn’t he gonna drive
me?”

“No. I will. I know how to drive. I’ve been
doing it for years,” she answered casually.

My eyes widened with fear and I remained,
frozen in place, on top of the iced-tea-covered rug.

I panicked. “Why not your brother?”

“Believe me. After what he’s been smoking,
you’d rather have a dog drive you than him.”

I walked toward the kitchen, figuring I had
no choice and put my empty glass on the counter next to
Tessa’s.

“That’s one of the perks of not having your
parents around,” Tessa said as she turned, flung her hair and
walked away toward the foyer. “Nobody gives a shit what you
do.”

CHAPTER
ELEVEN

Winter vacation was about to begin and most
of my teachers were thoughtful enough to give projects, due right
after the break, as Christmas presents. I couldn’t imagine why they
felt the need to saddle us with assignments over the winter recess.
What if someone’s family planned on going somewhere warm for the
holidays or on a skiing trip? As usual, I had no plans to go
anywhere except to the bleak and boring house on Juniper Drive.

The last week of school was a complete waste
of time, especially the last day. No one was in the mood to be
there, not even the teachers.

Mr. Winkler was feeling unusually merry and
gave our class an additional week to hand in our World War II
history project instead of the normal deadline he’d given to all
his other students.

Erica, who sat behind me in class, tapped my
shoulder. I leaned back and she whispered into my ear.

“Do you think Tessa will choose ‘Hitler and
His Lovers’ as the topic for her paper?”

I didn’t respond and leaned forward in my
chair. I didn’t feel it necessary to pick on Tessa at every
opportunity even if it was somewhat entertaining. Plus, I felt
guilty gossiping about her after going to her house, especially
because I still hadn’t told Erica and Taylor that I even went or
about how petrified I was when she drove me home.

I ignored Erica when she tapped me again.
Just then I felt a pair of eyes burrowing into me. I scanned the
room and looked for the source. From the opposite corner of the
classroom, Tessa Anderson shot daggers at me.

Erica had such a big mouth! Even though I may
have agreed with her, she didn’t have to say it out loud, in class,
to me, with Tessa right there. Besides, Erica’s whisper was
equivalent to another person’s shouting. I was beginning to think
she was actually deaf.

Thankfully the bell rang. As Mr. Winkler
wished us a happy holiday, I ran from the room, leaving Erica and
her insults in the lurch.

I stood at my locker and grabbed books for my
next class. I was just about to close my locker door when someone
else slammed it shut for me, almost cutting off my thumb in the
process.

Angry, I spun on my heels and came face to
face with an even angrier Tessa.

“What the hell did that bitch say about me?”
she spat.

I needed to do damage control. “Nothing.”

I walked away toward my biology class and
Tessa followed.

“Don’t say ‘nothing.’ I heard her say my name
and know she was talking shit about me.”

I stopped abruptly and looked at Tessa. “Does
it really matter what she said or what anyone else says about you,
for that matter?”

For once, Tessa was speechless.

“You can do one of two things,” I told her as
I held up two fingers. “Either ignore what people say and let it go
or, if you do care, don’t give them any ammunition to use against
you.”

She thought about it, huffed and walked off.
“Whatever!”

I rolled my eyes and continued on my way
toward my very last class of the Old Year and another assignment,
which in the spirit of giving, my science teacher was about to
bestow upon me.

• • •

Christmas was going to be uneventful as my
mom, brother and I were stuck all alone in Maine. The weather was
too unpredictable, so my uncle didn’t want to risk driving north
and getting stuck at our house, especially since it was crucial
that he be at his New York restaurants during their busiest time of
year. My grandparents wanted us to drive to Massachusetts and stay
with them, but my mom was petrified of driving on the snowy roads.
Regardless, my mother did her best to make sure it was special for
James and me.

She made popcorn the old-fashioned way by
heating vegetable oil on the stove, tossing in the kernels and
quickly moving the kettle back and forth so it wouldn’t burn.
That’s how she made popcorn when she grew up, she said, because
microwaves didn’t exist back then. We melted butter and set it
aside, which we would later pour over the popcorn we were going to
eat. The remaining plain popcorn would be strung together in long,
thin rows.

My mother was in an unusually good mood and
hummed along with the Christmas carols that rang out from the
old-fashioned stereo. She moved in rhythm with the music while
popping the mouthwatering smelling popcorn.

She wore a pretty, flouncy red dress and took
the time to style her thick, auburn hair in a French twist and
fastened it at the nape of her neck with a delicate rhinestone
clip. She even put on makeup. I hadn’t seen my mother make such an
effort to get all gussied up since my father had died.

About once a month, when my dad was still
alive, he and my mother would go on a date, taking turns picking
their favorite restaurant and hiring a babysitter to stay at home
with us kids.

I watched my mother as she bopped and sang
along to the 1950’s hit, “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.” I
thought my mom was attractive for her age. She had fine wrinkles
around her pretty green eyes, wrinkles that would appear only when
she smiled. That was the one thing about my mom; when she was truly
happy, her eyes smiled the most. Her complexion was darker than
mine, like those born in the Mediterranean because her mother, my
grandmother, was Italian. She was very thin compared to most of my
friend’s moms and petite like me.

For some reason, my mother seemed to be
radiating outwardly lately, almost glowing. I was beginning to
realize that my mom’s external attitude depended on how she was
feeling on the inside. I just couldn’t figure out why she was so
darn happy on Christmas of all days.

Unlike my mom, I found myself getting the
saddest around the holidays, especially when I started to think
about my father and how much he enjoyed celebrating them, whether
it was Christmas or even the Fourth of July.

Even when I was a baby, my dad would take off
from work the day before the Fourth so he could travel all around
the state in search of the newest and safest fireworks. He’d invite
all the neighbors and their children to come over and set up
folding chairs on our front lawn to watch his special,
multi-colored light show. He called it the Flynn Family
Extravaganza.