Summer, 1992, the Popsicles were cool and the boys were hot.........ok that's a bold faced lie if ever I've told one. 1992 in Greenville, Alabama had cold Popsicles sure, but the boys couldn't light a fire under a girl if she were sittin' in a boilin' stew pot. I swear if my days weren't busy workin' at the Jiffy Stop convenience store, I would have died of boredom. At least, that's what I thought till June 21st rolled around. It was the first official day of summer and the first day of the rest of my life.

"Bella Donna Winters! Go make an ice delivery to the Tisdale farm and then hightail it back here!" Mrs. Jackson yelled from the storage room. I hated my full name. Only my mama and Mrs. Jackson used it. Of course, Mrs. Jackson was like a mama to every little black girl in town so it was fittin' that she called me that. Especially since I didn't get to see my own mama too often. She worked long hours just to keep a roof over our heads and sometimes it didn't even work. We were two months behind on rent already and I had paid last month's electric bill with my Jiffy Stop salary. Don't get me wrong, I loved my mama. I'd slug ya if you said different, but I wished we had more sometimes.

The Tisdale's tipped well on deliveries. That's the only reason I would ever go there. Their "farm" was more like a plantation and it had a history of being a real bad place for people with my skin color. Mrs. Jackson didn't need to tell me twice to hightail it back. That was automatic. Old man Tisdale was 82 years old this year and he had the views on race that you would expect an 82 year old white man to have. He once told me that I was pretty for a colored girl. It was by God's good grace that I didn't kick that man in the chest right there. I had to remember that this was Greenville, Alabama and his senile old mind probably thought that was still the correct term to use. Either way, my ice delivery would be the quickest I could possibly make it.

The pleather of Mrs. Jackson's old pickup burned my legs as I sat in the driver's seat. That'll teach me to wear cutoff shorts to work. The old rust bucket roared like an angry bear as I started it up. It was a finicky machine with pedals too loose for comfort and a gear shift that fought back most of the time. After getting my license a year before, however, it was the only car I'd ever driven and I loved it. I packed 10 bags of ice into the bed of the truck and headed down the windin' road to the Tisdale place.

Up at the Tisdale plantation, things were jumpin'. I'd never seen so many cars at that place in all my days. With all that ice I was haulin', I'd assumed it was a party, but nothin' this big. The old plantation house had two entrances, a guest entrance and an entrance for the help. Guess which one old man Tisdale always told me to use. As I rolled up to the back of the house, I heard people in the backyard. This must be a garden party. What I saw when I looked past the old pickett fence was not what I was expectin'.

Everybody was dressed in all black. They were standin' in a circle around a large brown coffin. At the head of the coffin was an easel with a picture of old man Tisdale on it. The old coot had up and died. I wasn't upset about it. Like I said, he had a 1950s mind set in a 1990s world. The one thing that did bother me, however, was my tip. With old man Tisdale dead, I felt that I'd never get the kind of tip I was used to ever again.

Slowly, I dragged two bags of ice toward the group of black clad white people, waiting for someone to notice me. Eventually, a middle aged white woman looked up and saw me coming. She tapped the shoulder of a girl about my age next to her. The younger girl looked up at me and just stared without moving.

I stared back at her without blinking or breaking gaze. Finally, the older woman nudged the younger in my direction. She glided over to me like her feet touched the ground only to fulfill the expectations of those watchin' her. It was offputtin' and pleasin' at the same time. It didn't seem right for any teenage girl to be so polished but I could understand why it would be deemed desirable.

"May I help you?" She spoke as if she couldn't say an improper word if she wanted to. It had been trained out of her.

"Ice delivery." I replied with more sass than intended. The bags of ice were meltin' in the summer heat and the watery weight was heavy on my nerves.

"Of course. Right this way." She spoke just loudly enough for me to hear every word and softly enough to not interrupt the funeral. As she led me to a tent that seemed to house mostly spirits, I heard her whisper under her breath "The man is not even in the ground yet and they are already planning the after party." I wasn't meant to hear it, I could tell. It was a noticeable crack in her well formed veneer and it made her a thousand times more likeable.

"How much do we owe you?" She asked in her cordial tone.

"10 bags of ice at 75 cents each. That'll be $7.50." I replied to her. She gave me a small smile and nodded. Instead of handin' me any money, however, she glided away toward the older woman who had initially sent her to me. She leaned into the older woman and whispered something in her ear. I noticed that while she was talkin' to the woman the girl placed a hand softly on top of the older woman's clenched hands. It seemed like an action of familiarity. They must be mother and daughter.

After talkin' to the older woman for a few minutes, the younger girl returned and slipped a $20 into my left hand. It was a little too similar to old man Tisdale for my likin'. After slippin' me the money, she didn't let go of my hand. Hers was warm and dry against mine. I didn't want her to let go.

"I don't have change." I said, starin' down at our entwined hands.

"No one in this yard would know what to do with change even if you gave it to them." The girl stated as she gave my hand a quick squeeze. This was another remark that seemed unfittin' for a girl of her breedin'.

"I am Hailey Tisdale. It is a pleasure to meet you." She said to me. It sounded like a rehearsed statement, something that she automatically said.

"Bella Donna Winters." I replied as I let her shake my hand up and down. Even as I said my name, I hated it. Her face as she heard my name was interestin'. A smile widened across her face and her eyes brightened. Why was she so pleasin'?

"Bella Donna like the plant?" She asked me curiously.

"I didn't know it was a plant. My mama just heard it somewhere while she was pregnant." I replied with a chuckle. I could feel the heat in my face as a light blushin' dusted my cheeks. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why I had given her so much information about myself.

"Oh yes. It is an unbelievably beautiful plant but deadly to the touch." She said as she ran her hand up my arm and stopped at the inside of my elbow. Quickly, I pulled my arm away from her. No one had ever touched me quite like that. It made me feel a little too weird.

"I will get the bartender to remove the rest of the ice from your truck." She said as she pulled back her hand. I turned away from her and headed back to the truck, resisting the urge to run.

On the way back to the Jiffy Stop, I turned the air on high in the truck. My face was burnin' up. Somethin' about the wirin' in the truck always caused it to slow to a crawl when the air conditionin' was on. I couldn't go past 25. In my rear view, I saw one of those giant monster trucks barrelin' down on me. It had huge fog lights on the top and a grill that made it look like the car was barin' all its teeth at me.

Trucks like these were the type I tried to avoid when drivin' on 2-lane roads in the middle of nowhere. I expected a giant confederate flag to be wavin' from the back of it. Gettin' out of the way was my main priority but there was nowhere to go. The fear completely overshadowed the heat in my cheeks. Luckily, the truck driver was a daredevil. Right before knockin' into my bumper the truck jumped into the oncomin' traffic lane and went around me. It was goin so fast that it disappeared over the next hill before I had time to think. Once it was gone, I let out a deep breath that I didn't realize I'd been holdin'.

It took me twice as long to get back to the Jiffy Stop with the air on but my fear from the monster truck caused me to need cool air more than ever. When I finally arrived, I didn't want to get out of the car. The monster truck was there, at the pump. There wasn't a flag on it but that didn't ease my worries. The driver was nowhere to be seen. Was Mrs. Jackson Ok?

I cut the engine and slid out of the cab, tryin' to make the least noise possible. It was an impossible task as the truck made a ruckus even when cooling down. In light of not bein' able to move quietly, I went for plan B which was bookin' it toward the door. As soon as I made it in, I saw Mrs. Jackson standin' at the front counter.

"Bella Donna Winters what took you so long? Didn't I tell you to high tail it back?" Mrs. Jackson asked with a stern look on her face.

"I'm sorry. I ran into trouble." I replied, thinking back to the monster truck that now sat right outside.

"Of course you did. Penny Frasier came in earlier sayin' that old Mr. Tisdale passed." She stated, assuming that that was what held me up. Honestly, I had all but forgotten about everythin' that happened at the Tisdale place. The reminder caused my cheek blushin' to flare up again.

"Yeah he up and kicked the bucket." I replied, not thinkin' about what I was sayin'.

"Don't you dare speak ill of the dead Bella Donna!" She yelled and slapped her hand on the counter. I almost jumped out of my skin with fear, and rightly so. The next thing she slapped would probably be me.

"Yes ma'am." I replied quickly, not wantin' to anger her more.

"Take this change to the young man in the truck outside. He wanted 15 dollars of gas but he gave me a 20." She said as she handed a $5 bill to me.

The guy in the truck outside. She wanted me to take change to the monster truck! I didn't want to. That truck was still scary to me but the risk of further angerin' Mrs. Jackson was even scarier.

With the money in my hand, I cautiously headed toward the truck. Once I was actually lookin' at the truck head on, I could see the driver inside. He saw me comin' too so he threw open the door and stepped out.

It wasn't fair. Everythin' about him wasn't fair. The long brown hair that was in a ponytail behind his head, the sparklin' blue eyes that made me yearn for a glass of ice cold water, and the height that made me crack my back to look up at him; what it did to me wasn't fair.

"Your change." was all I could manage to say as I held out the $5 bill.

"No need darlin'. You keep it." He replied with a dazzlin' smile. Somethin' about the way he said darlin', however, rubbed me the wrong way.

"My name's not darlin' and we don't take handouts here." I stated, happy to have my sass back. I pushed the money into his hand.

"Sorry to offend.....Miss....?"

"Beady." I replied to him and immediately regretted it. Why on earth did I let that childish nickname slip out of my mouth? I normally told people to call me BD. Beady came from my grade school days when people were in too much of a rush to say BD right. No one had called me that in years.

"Well alright Miss Beady. I'll take this change for now. Maybe I can treat you to a coke or somethin' with it next time." I gave him an obligatory smile at this comment, still horrified that I'd told him to call me Beady. I was pretty sure that there would be no next time.

The next day Mrs. Jackson sent me on another ice delivery to the Tisdale plantation, this time only 6 bags of ice. As I reached the house I saw a sign on the mailbox that said "Ice delivery to front door".

I rang the doorbell and Hailey answered. My cheeks immediately blushed. She seemed surprised to see me.

"Is that my ice?" A voice called from inside the house. Then he appeared, as brown haired and blue eyed as ever, the monster truck owner sauntered in.
"This is my cousin Hunter." Hailey's words tingled my ears as Hunter's visage caressed my eyes.

"We meet again Miss Beady." Hunter leaned in as he spoke and I swear he smelled like 2 footsteps shy of heaven. Lookin' at his face, my brain just stopped workin'.

"6 bags of ice at 75 cents each. That's about 5 bucks right?" He said as he handed me the same $5 I had given him the day before. My jaw dropped at his touch.

"Bella Donna?" Hailey asked, concerned.

"Beady?" Hunter joined in as he put his hand on my shoulder.

"Huh?" I'm sure I looked plum stupid as I spoke.

"The ice is melting." They said at the same time. I thought to myself, as I watched them watchin' me, that the ice needed to wait it's turn.