"Sure, mom."
Maycee Morgan clambers down from her perch in the passenger's seat of her mother's dusty red Chevrolet pickup truck, into the unforgiving Texas heat, on September third at 4:37 P.M. Country music floats out to her from the truck door, which Maycee had left standing open. She hums along to the rhythm as she approaches the mailbox. She is a mere four feet away from the busy Highway B-67, leading from Daley, Texas to scattered towns across the Midwest, nowhere in particular. A car whizzes past, sending her short, sun-bleached blond hair shooting out behind her. Maycee's mom cranks up the music, which Maycee can now identify as Tim McGraw. She sings along under her breath. She reaches the mailbox, only a yard away from the highway. The stooped, brown one with "Morgan" stenciled on the side. She flips open the lid, extracts three or four letters and a catalog. But she frowns as she notices that one magazine is stuck, the binding caught in the inverted rim of the mailbox. She tugs at it, but it still won't budge. A beat-up old Honda booms past, obnoxious hip-hop music bursting from the speakers, he bass turned up so loud that the lyrics have become indecipherable. Maycee tugs at the magazine some more, a worthless magazine. One that her mom will probably never bother picking up and reading. One from some company that some stupid telemarketer gave our phone number to.
But Maycee still pulls at the stuck magazine, feeling content. Tim McGraw is still playing, gently. Sweetly. She sings along to herself as she pulls harder at the wedged magazine. Then, although Maycee doesn't see it, a thundering eighteen-wheeler with the faded Coca-Cola logo painted on the side that was three lanes away from the mailbox suddenly makes a u-turn, the driver realizing that the Quick-Mart was in Shepherd, one of the little Midwest towns. The song ends, and Maycee turns to face her mom's truck. She decides to abandon the still-stuck magazine in the mailbox, and turns to head back up to the truck. But she trips over a jagged chalk-white rock jutting out of the ground, and falls. Something warm and gooey oozes down her leg. She cries out, but the truck has already swerved off the highway.
A scream penetrates the palpable humidity on September third, at 4:40 P.M., on Highway B-67, leading from Daley, Texas to nowhere in particular, as the life of Maycee Morgan, and innocent 13-year-old girl's life is ended.
Too soon.
***
"Ooh, I love these ones!"
"Whitney, settle down," I giggle as my best friend holds up the third pair of shoes today that she claims are "the ones".
"But these are... look at them! Just look at them!"
"Yeah, they're pretty cute," I admit.
"Eh, I changed my mind. How about..." She scans the shoe section. "Those!" Whitney squeals as she scurries to the other side of the store. She picks up a pair of bright red flats. "Those?" I parrot back at her. Whitney nods eagerly.
"Okay, if you're sure." I say, making my disgust obvious.
Whitney holds the shoes up, admiring them. "'Kay, I'm going to go check out," Whitney states, now hugging the flats close.
"I'm going to look around a bit."
"Sure. I'll find you when I've checked out," Whitney says, already headed to the kiosk.
I look around Lilly Spring Mall's shoe department. Heels, sandals, flats, boots, sneakers--
That's when I notice her.
Huge ink-blue eyes, bright and twinkling, short black hair cut in a bob. An anime girl. Something is off about her, though. She scans the shoe racks like I do, absently, like she is waiting for someone. I watch her for a few minutes, but still no one comes to her and says, "Ready to go?" like Whitney usually does. Not for this girl. The anime girl. Then, the strangest thing happens. My legs walk in her direction. My mouth opens. Someone says in my voice, "Hi." The girl looks up, clearly surprised. I clear my throat, try again. "Hi. I'm Maycee." I smile politely. A grin plays across the girl's face. "Oh, um... cool. Pretty name." She says.
"Oh, yeah, thanks." I respond courteously.
"Mine's Kadi," the girl says, "nice to meet you."
Kadi looks at me expectantly. "So, what you got there?" I ask, gesturing at the closed shoebox tucked under her arm.
"Er, uh, shoes. Shoes."
"Hmm. What's your favorite brand?"
"Converse." Kadi actually smiles this time, big and wide. It lights up her whole face, displaying perfect white teeth.
Kadi and I sit at a bench near the purse department, across the walkway from the kiosk where Whitney is still in line. We talk about shoes (her black-and-white striped Converse), the weather (insufferably hot and humid), and even politics (groan) before Whitney shows up.
"Hey, Maycee! I couldn't find you anywhere! And there were like, fifty people in line! So, are you ready to--" I wince, realizing that Whitney has just realized Kadi is sitting beside me. She laughs politely. "Um, who's that?" Whitney asks. I can tell that she is trying to be casual and nice, but she comes across as rude and stiff.
"Er, I'm Kadi," Kadi says sweetly, "Maycee and I just met."
I nod and smile.
"Oh. Okay... Well, Maycee and I need to go now," Whitney announces, shuffling nervously from foot to foot.
"Hold on a sec, Whit. Kadi's really nice," I say, still smiling.
"No thanks, Maycee. I really have to get home." Whitney is the one smiling nervously now. It's obvious to see that she thinks that some weirdo started talking to me and she needs to come save me.
"Give it a rest, Whitney," I finally blurt in annoyance. "Kadi is really nice and we're having a good time. And you and I both know that the mall just opened and we planned to stay here for two hours."
Whitney pulls back like I've just slapped her. She's always been a little melodramatic. Still, I soften.
"Okay, Whit, I'll meet you at the food court in five minutes," I say finally with a sigh.
"'Kay. Pizza?" Whitney asks, perking up.
"Sure."
"'Kay, see you in five." Whitney bounces away to the escalators.
I turn back to Kadi. "Sorry about that."
"Oh, no, it's okay," Kadi responds, smiling.
"Hey, since I have to be up there in five minutes, um, do you want to like... exchange phone numbers, or something?"
"Yeah, sure." Kadi smiles again, that big shining smile.
After she has my phone number and I have hers, we part, promising to call soon.
"Hey, Whit." I say when I find her table.
"Oh, hi, Maycee. So, what was up with the weird girl?" Whitney replies, setting two paper plates heaped with pizza down on the plastic table in the center of the food court.
"She wasn't weird." I say, suddenly defensive.
"Yes she was. She looked like she stepped out of a Manga comic."
"She can't help that."
"Yeah, well, Kate--"
"Kadi," I correct her.
Whitney sighs. "Kadi. Okay, well, Kadi shouldn't go around talking to strangers."
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. "Uh, actually Whit, I talked to her."
"You mean, my best friend, Maycee Morgan, the most shy and quiet girl I know, walked up to a random stranger and just started chatting it up?" Whitney asks in disbelief.
I nod and smile, stuffing my face with Piccola Italia pizza.
Shopping bags clutched in our hands, we begin walking back to Whitney's house. It's a good thing that everything is so close together in our tiny town of Carnation, Texas. It's halfway between Daley, a relatively large town for our area, and Lilly Springs, a teeny Midwest town. It's hot all year round, except a few weeks in the middle of winter, a stereotypical Texas town. I look over at Whitney, her long auburn hair brushing over her back, picked up by the wind. She's always been better than me; prettier, more athletic, taller. She's a green-eyed brunette, I'm a hazel-eyed blonde. We're completely different, and that's what brings us together. We push each other to try new things, which we most of the time end up liking. She's yin, I'm yang, but together, we're perfect harmony. We even each other out.
"Look at these shoes! Look at them!" Whitney squeals, peeking through the shoebox lid and leaning over so I can see too.
"They're... uh, red?" I say.
Whitney giggles. "Good job figuring that out!" She says, her tone sarcastic.
"Really very extremely red?" I offer.
"Hmm, better." Whitney decides.
When I finally get home after Whitney's mom drops me off, I am wiped. I brush my teeth and go straight to bed, but can't go to sleep. Despite my exhausted limbs, sleep just won't come. I think of Kadi and how she acted like she was hiding something. I pluck my cell phone from my pocket and select 'Contacts', and scroll down to Kadi's number. Look at it. It seems so normal. I turn off the phone and roll over. I'm just being paranoid.
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Hey guys! Thanks for reading! To be honest, I'm not completely sure where this is going to go. I'm going to continue it, obviously, but it'll probably be on hold for a while as I'm currently working on my novel, Lifewish. I'm not sure what to do with the text (before the ***) at the beginning. I might keep it there, might move it, but I definitely want it somewhere in here. Critiques wanted! I know it isn't very good. I just jotted down ideas as they came to me, so i'm not sure at all what to do with this. HELP! Thanks! Yours, Pen
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