I turned my head from side to side, closely examining my reflection in the mirror to be sure my skin was adequately covered—the forecast was for a sunny, hot, humid day—Indian summer the weatherman had called it. My hair proved once again to be totally unruly, but what could I expect after spending so much time in the creek. I slicked my hair down against my scalp and pulled it tightly into a ponytail. Even so, when I released, it plumed out past my tiny ears. I growled in disgust.
"Problem?" Elizabeth's voice sang from the doorway.
"I hate my hair," I grumbled, glancing up at her reflection in the corner of the mirror.
She cocked her head to the side as if considering before she responded. "No, you have beautiful hair, one of your more striking features."
"Right, you have to say that, you're my mother."
Elizabeth smiled and then continued down the hallway. It was the first time I'd ever referred to her as mother.
"Mother?" I murmured. Saying the word aloud was as if someone had bumped the CD player and I was suddenly on a different track—in the past—a child. A woman, with straight, light brown hair sat behind me, tugging my hair back into a ponytail, hopelessly trying to smooth it out across my scalp.
"There," she said turning me toward her, "it's beautiful."
"No it's not," I pouted.
"What I wouldn't give for just a little of that body." She smiled, kissed the top of my head and cuddled me against her chest. "Come on now, you don't want to be late for school."
"School!" I gasped, and the image vanished. I stared blankly in the mirror, but there was nothing there, just me. While I wasn't sure, it seemed the voice—my mother's presumably—was a younger version of the pained voice from the creek. "Jess," I whispered, "that must be my mother's name."
"You're going to be late," Tink's voice echoed from the garage.
I grabbed my book bag and raced out of the house.
Tink was holding the door open when I got to my car. "In a hurry?" He puzzled.
"Not really, I just don't want to be late."
"You want me close?"
"Do you mind? I hate to make you waste your days babysitting, but—"
He pushed the door closed after I got in. "Ain't a waste if it helps."
"Thanks."
"My pleasure. Drive safe." He patted the roof to send me on my way.
My eagerness to see Jason translated into speeding, and I had to fight my right foot to maintain the posted limit. It was a good thing too. I passed a speed trap on Route 67 that had already snagged one of the ricers. Even so, I still got to school early. There were a few kids outside, putting off the inevitable, as I strolled casually toward the front door. I could hear the ricers racing up from Main Street, and as they approached, a tired horn blared in defiance. I turned to see them peel off on either side of a Jeep Wrangler—a Jeep I knew. The Jeep continued up the hill and cruised into the empty spot next to my car. It seemed odd, since there were a lot of spaces closer to the school. Beneath dark sunglasses perched atop his windblown hair, Jason's gaze lingered on my car for a moment. He finally stood, grabbed the open roll cage and swung out of the driver's side. It wasn't until he picked up his backpack that he looked toward the school and spotted me. His face lit up. Even at this distance, I could feel the flush of blood that colored his cheeks.
"Hollywood!" A voice boomed from the far end of the parking lot, but his eyes stayed fixed on me.
"Hey Izzy, you okay?" A familiar voice next to me asked.
"Oh, hi Cathy."
"You looked lost, you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." I turned away from the parking lot. Cathy was wearing a Navy blue velour top with flared sleeves, an onyx pendant, prominently centered in a silver setting hung around her neck. "I like your top."
"Really?"
"Sure, blue suits you."
"Thanks, I see you've got some color back in your cheeks." Cathy opened the door and I followed her inside, still fighting the urge to look back.