I will never understand why my mother thinks I can hear her when she knows I’m wearing my earphones. Do we really have to go through this EVERY morning? Me, happily brushing my teeth, or getting my books together, or pouring my cereal for breakfast and suddenly – poof – there’s Mom, standing in front of me, screaming?
“Alison, why don’t you answer me when I talk to you?”
I pull the earphones out of my ears and roll my eyes. “Because I can’t hear you, that’s why. Did you want something?”
Mom takes a deep breath. “Yes. I want you to pick up my dry cleaning on your way home from school. I’ll be home late, maybe not until nine.”
“Again?”
“It’s the last of the month, Ali. We’re closing the books tonight. Just like we do every month. ”
“Can’t you pick up your dry cleaning tomorrow?”
“Yes, I could, but I need it for tomorrow. The director is flying in and I need my suit.”
“I hate going in there. It’s creepy.”
“Oh, God, Ali, really?”
“He’s creepy. The old guy. He looks like a serial killer.”
“He is not a serial killer,” Mom says, but not very convincingly.
“And I want new boots.”
“What? New boots? What kind of boots?”
“Remember last summer, when I babysat for your friend Clair? You said that you’d buy me something as a reward for not charging her. Well, I want boots.”
“And we’re having this discussion now? When we’re both late?” Mom grabs her purse and jacket. She hands me a twenty. “That should be enough for the cleaners and something for your dinner.”
“Okay, but only if Shel can come over,” I say.
She nods. “Sure.”
“And if I want pizza, it may cost more than this.”
“It won’t.”
“What if it does, and the pizza guy insists on sexual favors?”
She gives me a quick kiss. “I gotta say, Ali, nobody can turn a day from perfectly fine to total drama quite like you,” she says, and she’s gone.
I look at the kitchen clock. Six minutes to get out the door. I shovel down another spoonful of cereal and brush my teeth real quick. It’s such a pain now because of the braces. As I rinse out my mouth, I smile big so I can view all my silver. My orthodontist has sworn they’ll be off by my 16th birthday. Four months to go. Then, I’ll have a great smile. Too bad the rest of my face is so ordinary.
I run out of the apartment and past the elevator. We’re on the third floor, but I always take the stairs. In the lobby, my best friend Rashelle is waiting for me. She’s gorgeous. Her mom, Rebekah, is from Trinidad. Her dad’s Greek. I remember him as being really handsome, and Shel got the best of both of them. We walk to school and make plans – she wants to go to Goodwill after school. No problem. I love Goodwill.
It’s not like I’m really poor, but Goodwill is SO much cheaper than the mall. I can’t afford sixty-dollar jeans. Once I’m older and can get a job, maybe, but - not now. Shel is poor, sort of. She has three little brothers, and her mom got laid off. Her dad left three years ago. Shel gets most of her clothes there.
School was boring, of course, and when we get out it’raining, but Goodwill is just around the corner from school. We’re looking through the jeans, and there is nothing in my size – I’m really small, like, a size 2. I wander over to where all the household stuff is – you know, old Pyrex bowls and tacky salt-and-pepper shakers, crappy ceramic Santa Clauses and dozens of vases. That’s when I see a black bottle.
It’s square, which is kind of cool, and the stopper on top is round. The surface is iridescent, and the swirls of color are kind of moving, like an oil slick on the surface of water. I pick it up and it’s warm. Like, sitting in the sun all day warm. But this hasn’t been in the sun at all. It’s been under fluorescent lights. Why is it warm?
“That’s interesting,” Shel says.
“It’s warm.” I say. “Feel.”
She holds it. “What are you smokin’ girl? This is stone cold. And it weighs a ton.”
I roll my eyes. “What are YOU smoking? I really love the colors.”
“It’s black.”
“I know, but there’s kind of a rainbow glow, see?”
She squints. “No.”
I look at the bottom. Fifty cents. “I’m buying this,” I say.
Shel sighs. She’s got an armful of stuff, lots of things for her little brothers. She spends almost six dollars. I hand over my fifty cents.
From there we go to the cleaners, and I pick up Mom’s suit. The guy behind the counter is really old and has no teeth, but he insists on smiling at me anyway. Creepy, right? Then, we pick up a pizza. Luckily, I have enough money. By now, we both have a LOT to carry. I try to put my bottle in Shel’s bag, but she complains it’s too heavy. So, I cram it into my backpack, and it’s not heavy at all.
I get back to the apartment and let myself in. Shel has to drop off all her Goodwill stuff at her place, but she’ll be up to share the pizza. I hang up Mom’s suit and open the pizza box. Smells SO good.
While I wait for Shel, I look at the bottle again. The color swirls are different now. More golden. I pick it up.
It’s hot.
I put it down and stare.
Shel comes in. “What’s the matter?” she asks.
“There’s something weird about this,” I tell her. “It’s really hot.”
She puts her hand on it. “No, Ali, it isn’t. What’s going on?”
I shake my head. The black has turned almost red. I reach out and pull on the stopper. It’s stuck.
“Do you think something is in there?” Shel asks.
I shrug and pull harder. Then I twist it. I can feel it move. I hold the bottle with one hand, even though I’m afraid I’ll burn myself, that’s how hot it is. I twist the stopper. It turns a bit more. I wiggle it back and forth, and it finally pulls free.
I let go and stare at my hand. I expect to see blisters. That’s how hot it felt, but my hand is fine. Then Shel swears. She hardly ever swears. I look at her, but she’s looking at the bottle.
There’s a thin line of smoke coming out of the top of the bottle.