Double Threats Forever (33 page)
“Well, that group of yours sure did multiply, huh,” I murmur.
Dad chuckles. “Yeah, it did. How many kids are there?”
Mom seems to be counting in her head. “Thirteen total.”
“Here comes one of them now,” Mom says. “What was he? The fifth?”
I run through the kids in my head. Yes, he came along right after me. Then, both my aunts had two more and Uncle Ben had his first. That round of kids spawned four boys. The dads say it was a rough time for them. All the wives were preggers at the same time. Twice.
My parents stopped with two, but everyone else had one more. Well, except for Uncle Josh. He got a late start in the kid department. He has the most beautiful twin six-year old girls. They’re a handful. Dad says it’s payback since he was such a pain in the ass when he was younger.
“What are you guys doing making all this noise?” Evan rests his head on my mom’s shoulder. “Can you call Auntie Steph and tell her to bring me some meds? I’m sick. I have a sore throat. I don’t think I can go to school today.”
Mom presses her palm to his forehead. “Your fine. It’s the first day. You’re going.”
Dad ruffles his hair. “Let’s go get ready, kiddo, before these women take over the bathrooms.” They take off down the hall, with Evan still rubbing his eyes to fully wake himself.
“Let’s go eat some more cereal,” Mom says, looking down at my empty bowl. I follow her into the kitchen. “Are you feeling better, Em?”
“Yeah. I’m ready for high school. How about you? Are you ready to have a child in high school.”
“Honey, you’re going to be a student at the school I work at. It doesn’t get much better than that.”
“You should be my English teacher.” I wink at her.
“That’s not gonna happen.”
“Why can’t I at least have Uncle Jon Jon for PE?”
“Because you can’t be calling him Uncle Jon Jon, that’s why,” she mumbles through a mouthful of Cheerios.
“You let me have Auntie Keesh as my counselor.”
“That’s not the same.”
I roll my eyes. “How about Amy and Brody? Can I be in either of their classes?”
“You’ll probably have to. They’re the only ones who teach Calculus and Physics.”
“They are one weird couple. They’re kids are total geeks.”
“Who cares if they’re geeks? Their daughter goes to Stanford and their son goes to Columbia.”
“Don’t you think it’s weird you all went back to your old high school to work?” I ask.
Mom shakes her head. “Not weird at all. I think it’s special.”
So do I, actually.
I’m smoothing on my minty lip balm across my lips when my door opens.
“Hey, girlie,” Faith says, plopping herself onto my bed. “You ready? You’re gramma is already here. She has a big ass camera strapped around her neck and your gramps is setting up the tripod outside.”
“Sure am. Where’s Vic?”
“I’m here,” she shouts flying into my room.
Faith gives both of us the once over and says, “Ladies, lookin’ good. Watch out, Carver High. A new generation is on the way.” She leaps to her feet and pulls me and Vic beside her. “Check it out.” She smiles at us in the mirror. “We’re starting high school today.”
Watch out is right. She’s gorgeous with her dad’s bronze skin tone, her mom’s almond-shaped eyes, and the most beautiful dark wavy hair. You can tell she’s of mixed ethnicity, looking all exotic.
Victoria towers over us with the height of an Olympic volleyball player which she inherited from her parents. Unfortunately, I only got my dad’s green eyes and not his height. Instead, I’m as petite as my mother. Well, except for the baby fat I can’t seem to shed. Mom keeps telling me it will melt away when I least expect it, but moms are supposed to say nice things like that.
I gaze at my two best friends, giddy as can be. “Let’s go. It’s time.”
The noise level increases as we walk down the hall toward the kitchen, which happens to be a madhouse. My mom is insane for hosting this back to school morning every year. The boys are all stuffing their faces with donuts, while all the moms chatter over cups of coffee.
“Picture time!” That’s Grams. Only my grandmother would want to capture the same pictures year after year. It’s crazy, I know. But since I was little, I’ve always been fascinated by all the pictures I’ve seen of my parents. Especially the ones from high school and college. I love seeing where I came from.
We all start to shuffle outside when I hear, “Hey, squirt.” I whip around to see my favorite uncle. Not only does he spoil me rotten, but he makes for a great speaker at Career Day with all his stories about traveling the world, protecting the President when he was an active Marine. Emphasis on the word
active
because
once
a Marine,
always
a Marine. We’ve all be schooled on that one too many times to ever call him a former or ex-Marine.
“Hey, Uncle Benny!” I wrap my arms around his waist for a tight squeeze. He tries messing up my hair but I get away in time. Is he nuts? It’s the first day of my high school career and he’s ruining my do.
“You know, that was cute when you were four. But when you call me that now, you just sounds like a wise ass.”
“Better than being a dumbass.”
A big smile stretches across his face as he chuckles.
“Where’s the uniform, sir? Not catching any bad guys today?”
“Nope, I’m off duty. Me and the rest of the guys are playing hookie and going golfing. Perks of being the boss.” He winks.
“Must be nice.”
“That’s what I said,” Uncle Jon Jon huffs. He’s a teacher so he won’t be swinging like Tiger today.
“Bro, you’re a PE teacher. Every day is a day off for you,” Uncle Ben says, tossing out a playful jab into his ribs.
“Okay, everyone. Pipe down, you animals. Let’s get this show on the road. The kids have to get to school.” The loud chatter seems to quiet. “Is everyone here?” She scans the crowd. “Where’s Josh?”
“He’s the only one without a job, and he’s never on time.” Uncle Jon throws his hands in the air, shaking his head with a loud sigh. The guy doesn’t need to work. After seven record-breaking seasons as a professional pitcher, he doesn’t need to work another day in his life. Although something tells me it’d be easier to have a
real
job than staying home talking care of twin girls.
A loud screech of tires has everyone twisting their heads to look down the street. A black Sequoia double parks, and the door opens. “We’re here. We’re here,” Josh yells. He and his wife unload the girls and they all come running toward the rest of us. “We didn’t miss it, did we?”
“No!” Grams shouts. “Okay, now would you all get under the oak tree so this old lady can snap a picture.” Old lady, my ass. She still dances around to her favorite boy band like she’s a teenager.
The whole tribe of us crowds underneath the big oak tree in my front yard. Grams takes a few smiling poses before she asks us to get wacky. I cross my eyes and stick out my tongue at the same time. Then, she takes a few of the kids only. Vic, Faith, and I do our trademark pose, with our arms linked and our heads titled toward each other.
The last shots are of our parents—Mom and Dad, Auntie Keesha and Uncle Jon, Auntie Steph and Uncle Dom, Uncle Josh and Aunt Savannah, and Uncle Benny and Aunt Sophia. Savannah and Sophia didn’t go to high school with the rest of them but you’d never know it. They fit right in. Uncle Josh met his woman in his baseball days. She’s a sports reporter. And Uncle Ben found his woman in the military. She looks like a model but can shoot a rifle. Kinda scary, and very cool at the same time.
“Isn’t it cute how our parents still snuggle up to each other? When I’m their age, I hope I’m still that in love,” Victoria says.
Faith waves her off. “I think it’s gross.”
“I think it’s romantic,” I confess, my hands clasped together under my chin. Okay, maybe I have read too many love stories. But watching my mom and dad, and the happiness dancing in their eyes as my grams takes photos of them and their lifetime friends, makes me hope for the same thing someday.
“That’s a wrap,” Grams calls out. “Kids, grab your bags and get into the right cars.”
“I’m taking the high schoolers,” my mom shouts. “I can’t be late to my first period already.” She chuckles.
“I’ve got the middle schoolers,” Auntie Keesh says. “I already know I have a line of students waiting for me.” She shivers at the thought.
“And I’ve got the little ones,” Auntie Steph yells. She can be as late as she wants. Being a pediatrician offers her a little flexibility. “My first patient isn’t until ten.”
“Shotgun,” I call out. There’s a mad dash as everyone says their goodbyes.
“Have a great first day of high school, Emma,” Dad says, my face cupped in his big hands. “I love you, baby girl, so don’t you even think about replacing me with some smelly boy today.”
“You were once a smelly boy, and Mom still loved you.”
“And your grandpa almost shot me.” He tries to plaster on a serious face, but it doesn’t work.
Uncle Ben chimes in, resting his forearm on my dad’s shoulder. “And I’m a well-trained Marine with lots of guns and ammo, so remember that.” He narrows his eyes at me, trying to have the same effect as my dad, but he has the same amount of success. These two are the biggest teddy bears. They couldn’t scare a fly.
“Come on, Em. Say goodbye to these boneheads before we’re late.” She flashes my dad and uncle the look and tugs me away.
Over my shoulder, I shout, “Bye, Daddy. Love you too.”
On the way to school, I hold my new binder in my lap, scanning the collage of pics I’ve tucked inside the plastic front cover. There are tons of pictures of me, Vic, and Faith—even one on our first day of kindergarten. Another one shows me and Evan, with our hands in the air as we’re coming down Splash Mountain at Disneyland. One of my favorite snapshots is one of my mom and dad sitting on an old wooden swing outside a mountain lodge, the same place where they got married, and where we go every year as a family for their anniversary.
The best one is a copy of my mom’s painting—the one Andi made for her. I took a picture of it with my phone and printed it.
It’s my very first day of high school, and I can’t stop looking at it. I can’t stop thinking about all of my mom’s stories. Like the one about how she had such great teachers that she decided to be one herself. Or all the ones about her making friends that have lasted a lifetime. And most exciting, the one about how she found her one true love.
I can’t wait to experience high school, just like my mom and dad. My very own fairy tale awaits.
I’ll find it.
I’ll write it.
My happily ever after will come.
Someday.
Credits
California
© 2012 Julie Prestsater
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of a reviewer using brief passages.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, and real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover Photography: Matt Ford of The Westgate Studios
Photo editing and author photo: Adriana Pilonieta of Visual Image Photography
Cover Models: Jurnee Mroczek and Gabriel Quesada
Visit Julie at
http://juliepbooks.com/
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