Three

        Where We Reminisce

         “Stevie! Stevie!”

            “Who’s the crazy girl in the front yard?” Belle asks me as we peek out the front window of the plantation house. A dirty blonde girl is practically sprinting down the driveway, her body flashing from bright to shadow every time she passes one of the many trees that line the way.

            “Grandpa?” I call, tearing myself away from the window. I wander through the living room until I find him in the kitchen. When I find him I see he’s cutting vegetables on the counter. “Why is there a girl running towards the house screaming my name?”

            He sets down his knife and turns to me, a smile on his lips. “I invited her for lunch. I think you’ll recognize her soon enough, Stephen.”

            Then without another word, he turns back to his cooking, ushering me away with his hand just as there’s a frantic knock on the door. Slowly, I make my way towards the front door as Belle continues to look out the window, her eyes wide.

            As soon as I open the door, the girl throws herself at me, wrapping me in the tightest hug I’ve ever had. The strangely familiar scent of cherry blossoms fills my nose and my mouth falls open in shock. Grandpa’s right; I do know who this is.

            As she pulls back, I remember the constant arguing about whether her hair is light brown or dark blonde, the way she would eat strawberries like they were Lays chips and how she chose to sing as loud as she could, not caring whether or not she was off key.

            “Lark!” I scream, grabbing her and pulling her in for another hug. She starts screaming and soon enough I’m joining her as we hop up and down excitedly.

            “Stevie! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back? When did you get here? How’s Belle? How did you get here? Why haven’t you come seen me!” Her questions all come out in a rush but I’m too speechless and shocked to answer them. Just like Dove Miller and Jacoby Grey, Lark White has always been one of my closest best friends and even when I moved, I couldn’t find anyone who compared to the close bond we share.

            “She’ll answer all those questions over lunch, Lark. Shall we?” Grandpa gestures towards the inside of the house and Lark loops her arm through mine as she leads the way.

            Grandpa had set up a small lunch in the back yard, or maybe I should say field. Since the Greenwood Plantation used to grow mainly cotton and wheat, we have tons of fields out back that sit around small forests and groves.

            But since Grandpa hasn’t been growing anything since Mom got sick, it’s covered in millions of bright yellow dandelions. I don’t care what anyone says about it being a weed; I’ve always considered it a misunderstood flower.

            Lark and I have the medium-sized gazebo to ourselves. It’s well away from the house, sitting on the edge of one of the fields. As we climb up the steps and take our seats at the table, I can’t help look around, remembering this place from a child’s eyes.

            “I’m still pissed that you didn’t tell me you were coming back,” Lark says, biting on a carrot stick. “Unless you intended for it to be a surprise. Then I’m happy.”

            “I didn’t know I was coming back,” I tell her honestly, grabbing my glass of Iced Tea. After a few years of never drinking it, I’m glad to have the familiar, every day drink back. “My dad, he’s-“

            “In the hospital,” Lark finishes. “Your Grandpa filled me in. Aw, Stevie, I’m sorry.” She reaches across the table and gives my arm a squeeze. “I’m here if you need me.”

            “Thanks.” I take a sip of my drink to prevent myself from telling her, and everybody else, the truth.

            “So have you seen anyone else yet, or am I the first?” She grins, her blue eyes lighting up. I’ve always been jealous of them because I got stuck with green.

            “Actually, my Grandpa made Belle and I go to brunch with Jacoby and his grandma.”

            Lark’s mouth falls open. “No way. I can’t believe he would actually…” She trails off, shaking her head as she continues her sentence in her head. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but he’s pretty different now.”

            “As in cold, quiet, and slightly arrogant? Yeah, I pretty much figured that out within the first two minutes.”

            Lark laughs but I don’t jump in. As much as I hate to admit it to myself, it bothers me that Jacoby is different now. When I came back, I expected him to be excited and happy to see me. Even if I was reserved when I saw him, I thought he wouldn’t be, just like how it used to be.

            “Oh, hey!” She suddenly says, practically jumping to her feet. “I forgot! Tonight there’s this thing going on. Everyone is going to be there; you have to come!”

            “What kind of thing?” I ask skeptically. I remember Lark’s ideas always turning out to be bad ones.

            “It’s a surprise.” She’s grinning and I’m not sure whether or not I can trust her on this.

            “Okay, what do I wear?” Even though I couldn’t care less about my outfit, I’m hoping that what she says next will give me some insight.

            “Let’s go raid your closet,” she says, her smile only growing wider as she loops her arm through mine and leaves out barely touched lunch to the animals.

©

            “So there’s a small, unpleasant catch,” Lark says as we come down the stairs. I can see headlights in the driveway. “My brother has to drive us because I failed my driver’s test.”

            As I slide on my shoes, I try to remember her brother. When we were little, he was hardly around because the last thing he wanted to do was hangout with his little sister. But when he did, it was because he wanted to torment her. The main memory I have of him is when he tied rope around all her Barbie doll’s necks and hung them from tree branches.

            “That’s fine. I don’t really remember him much,” I tell her honestly as Grandpa walks towards us.

            “Be home by eleven, Stephen. But have fun,” he kisses my forehead and just as Belle comes downstairs, unhappy that I’m ditching her, he ushers her into the other room.

            A horn outside starts blaring as Carson, Lark’s brother repeatedly hits the steering wheel.

            “You look really cute,” Lark says for the fifth time as we step outside. I adjust my navy and light blue striped shirt with the baggy sleeves and pull up my skinny jeans. I almost never wore the shirt because I always felt like a sailor in it, but because Lark insisted, I had to comply.

            “Lark, hurry up!” Carson calls, not even bothering to look out the open window at us.

            I can’t believe my eyes. Carson does not look anything like I would have pictured the rude, arrogant boy who avoided Lark and I like we were the plague. His hair, the same debatable colour as his sister’s, sits perfectly across his forehead, swooping just above his left eye. His shirt is a long-sleeved baseball tee, with the black arms and white torso. Honestly, he looks hot, and as much as I want to cringe when I think that, I don’t.

            “I said I’d drive you but if you’re going to be-“ Carson turns to look over at us and stops mid-sentence. “Stevie Greenwood? That’s you?”

            Carson White opens the door of his blue Audi 2009 and hurries to open the door for me. I get into the back while Lark takes the front, rolling her eyes.

            “You grew up well, Stevie,” he says, flashing me his most charming smile. “I’m glad to have you back.”

            “Glad to be back,” I say, returning the smile.

            The whole drive I stare out the window, answering Carson’s occasional questions and blocking out his arguing with Lark. I still can’t get over the fact that I’m really here, back to my life that I’ve missed. It feels surreal; like a dream.

            “Welcome to the Greenbrier racetrack!” Lark yells as we pull into a makeshift parking lot that’s sitting in a field well out of town. Looking around, I see that in a fairly large field, there’s a muddy track, created by many cars repeatedly running over the grass. There are only a few lights that are lit by extension cords running to parked cars, but other than that, it’s pretty dark out.

            “We’re late; let’s go find a good seat,” Lark says when we’re out of the car. Without saying anything to Carson, she loops her arm through mine and pulls me towards a row of bleachers where a bunch of kids are age, younger and older are sitting. As soon as we near, all eyes are on me and the whispering starts. “Ignore them.”

            I take Lark’s advice and follow her to an empty row in the middle of the bleachers. Quickly, I scan the crowd for people I recognize, but my results come up empty. Either I really can’t remember what my friend’s used to look like, or like Jacoby, they’ve really changed. 

            “So this is what you do for fun?” I ask Lark as I watch cars line up at the start of the track. “Watch cars race?”

            “Sorry, Stevie,” she says, mocking my voice. “Not all of us get to escape into the big city where you can do whatever your heart desires.”

            I bite my tongue, not wanting to let anything slip. The truth is that I rarely got to do anything because my dad kept such a tight leash that I only left the house for school.

            I rest my elbow on my knee and put my cheek in my palm. Believe it or not, I’d rather be home with Bella right now. But as soon as I see a familiar blue Camaro pull up to the starting track, I perk up.

            “Jacoby races?”

            “Yeah,” smirks Lark, seeing my interest. “He’s pretty good, too.”

            Sure enough, Lark is right. I watch as stick thin blonde girl makes her way to the middle of the starting point on the race track. Smiling at the driver’s, she raises her arms in the air and pauses. As soon as she swings down her arms, the cars speed past her and Jacoby is already in the lead.

            “You remember her, don’t you?” Lark asks, elbowing me in the side. Squinting, I try to make out the girl who started the race. She’s now standing on the sidelines, facing the away from me.

            “I have no idea, Lark,” I shrug. “Who is she?”

            “Our old best friend,” she replies bitterly. “Dove Miller.”

            As the race ends after a few laps, Jacoby comes in first, as predicted. As soon as he gets out of his Camaro, someone hands him his prize money, probably paid for by the entry fee for the race. He leans against the car, stuffing his money in the pocket of his navy jeans. Just as he runs his fingers through his dark hair, Dove Miller is jogging towards him, her arms opening as she nears him. Then she does something completely unexpected from the Dove Miller hating Jacoby Grey I remember.

            She kisses him.

            A/N: Picture is Lark :)