Slammed(4)
"Everything is so clean here,” my mother says as she continues putting away dishes. "I haven't seen a single insect."
Texas has more insects than blades of grass. If you aren't swatting flies, you're killing wasps.
"That's one good thing about Michigan, I guess,” I reply. I open up a box of pizza in front of me and eye the selection.
"One good thing?" she says as she winks at me. She leans across the bar, grabs a pepperoni and pops it in her mouth. "I’d think that would be at least two good things."
I pretend I’m not following.
"I saw you talking to that boy this morning," she says with a smile.
"Oh, please Mom," I reply as indifferently as I can get away with. "I'm pretty positive we'll find it no surprise that Texas isn't the only state inhabited by the male species." I walk to the refrigerator and grab a soda.
"What’s anabited?" Kel asks.
"Inhabited," I correct him. "It means to occupy, dwell, reside, populate, squat, live." My SAT prep courses are paying off.
"Oh, kinda like how we anabited Ypsilanti?" he says.
"Inhabited," I correct him again. I finish my slice of pizza and take another sip of the soda. "I'm beat, guys. I'm going to bed."
"You mean you’re going to inhabit your bedroom?" Kel says.
"You're a quick learner, young grasshopper." I bend and kiss the top of his head and retreat to my room.
It feels so good to crawl under the covers. At least my bed is familiar. I close my eyes and try to imagine that I'm in my old bedroom. My old,warm bedroom. My sheets and pillow are ice cold, so I pull the covers over my head to generate some heat. Note to self: locate the thermostat first thing in the morning.
***
And that's exactly what I set out to do as soon as I crawl out of bed and my bare feet meet the ice cold floor beneath them. I grab a sweater out of my closet and throw it on over my sweats and tank top while I search for socks. It’s a futile attempt. I quietly tiptoe down the hallway, trying not to wake anyone while at the same time attempting to expose the least amount of foot as possible to the coldness of the hard wood. As I pass Kel's room, I spot his Darth Vader house shoes on the floor. I sneak in and slip them on, finally finding some relief as I head into the kitchen.
I look around for the coffee pot, but don't find it. I remember packing it in the jeep, which is unfortunate since the jeep is parked outside. Outside in this absurdly cold weather.
The jackets are nowhere to be found. Septembers in Texas rarely call for jackets. I grab the keys and decide I'll just have to make a mad dash to the jeep. I open the front door and some sort of white substance is all over the yard. It takes me a second to realize what it is. Snow? In September? I bend down and scoop some up in my hands and examine it. It doesn't snow that often in Texas, but when it does it isn't this kind of snow. Texas snow is more like miniscule pieces of rock-hard hail. Michigan snow is just how I imagined real snow would be: fluffy, soft, and cold! I quickly drop the snow and dry my hands on my sweatshirt as I head toward the jeep.
I don't make it far. The second my Darth Vader house shoes meet the snow dusted concrete, I'm no longer looking at the jeep in front of me. I'm flat on my back, staring up at the clear blue sky. I immediately feel the pain in my right shoulder and realize I've landed on something hard. I reach around and pull a concrete garden gnome out from beneath me, half of his red hat broken off and shattered into pieces. He's smirking at me. I groan and raise the gnome with my good arm and pull it back, preparing to chuck the thing, when someone stops me.
"That's not a good idea!"
I immediately recognize Will’s voice. His voice is smooth and soothing like my father’s was, but at the same time had an authoritative edge to it. I sit upright and see Will walking up the driveway toward me.
"Are you okay?" he laughs.
Oh, no. I haven't even looked in the mirror this morning. I'm immediately embarrassed, but do my best to appear anything but.
"I'll feel a lot better after I bust this damn thing," I say, trying to pull myself up with no success.
"You don't want to do that, gnomes are good luck," he says as he reaches me. He takes the gnome out of my hands and gently places it on the snow covered grass.
"Yeah," I reply sarcastically as I take in the gash on my shoulder that has now formed a bright red circle on my sweater sleeve. "Real good luck."