The Emerald Talisman (2 page)

I tried to think of something insightful to
say to alleviate Cam’s discomfort, but was saved by the bell. We
sighed in sync as we got up and headed for our prospective fifth
period classes. Sam and I were the only ones who had Algebra, which
was not my favorite class.

“Todd asks you and you don’t tell me?” I
asked as soon as we were alone, headed down the hall towards our
class.

“Well, I was going to. It literally happened
right before lunch. He pulled me aside after class, but I had no
idea that’s what he wanted to talk to me about. He seemed pretty
nervous when he asked but so adorable,” she said with a grin.

Sam’s giddiness was like sun breaking through
stormy clouds and I couldn’t stay upset at her. Somehow I missed
her elation all through lunch. It must have been because I was
consumed with dodging Katie’s question.

“That’s so great,” I said.

“You should try to go. Isn’t there anyone you
want to go with?”

Deep down inside, a part of me wanted to
attend, but there wasn’t anyone I felt safe to go with. It was hard
to try to explain that to Sam. I’d given up on boys, for now
anyway. They were all the same to me—immature and focused on
one
thing
.

“Really, it’s okay. I’m going to skip it this
time.”

She sighed. I think she wanted to double with
me and I felt bad for bailing on her. Maybe I’d try to get Dena and
Morgan to go with her and Todd, once I orchestrated Morgan to ask
her.

We walked into the classroom and found our
seats. A knot formed in my stomach. Ms. Smith was an incredible
teacher, possibly the best at our school, but I was so horrible at
math it didn’t matter.

“I’m never going to get it,” I moaned while
we worked in small groups.

“Just double check your work as you go, like
this.” Her pencil darted across the page, leaving organized sets of
numbers meaning something to her, but nothing to me.

I chuckled. “Can’t you just do my homework
for me?”

Sam rolled her eyes. “With practice, you’ll
get it, I promise.”

“Yeah, right.”

A hopeful expression formed on her face. She
wasn’t going to let me quit. It gave me some confidence I’d
actually have a fighting chance to get through this class without
flunking. Frankly, I didn’t know what I would do without her.

I was the first to get up when the bell
rang.

As always, sixth period Spanish flew by and I
became anxious to get home. I had a few things to do before leaving
for work.

“Do you want me to come over tonight and help
you with your Algebra?” Sam asked as we walked to our lockers.

I’d completely forgotten about Algebra and at
her mention of it, I groaned. I imaged myself sitting at my desk
tempted to snap my pencil in half from the frustration. What do we
need Algebra for anyway?

“I think I’ll manage. I’m working but I’ll
call if I get stuck.”

Of course the
managing
part of my
comment was an exaggeration. I’d probably just put it off until
lunch the next day so she could help me then.

My pocket vibrated with a text message and I
took out my phone. It was from Luke.

-
Jo is coming for dinner. John is out of
town. You working?

Dang it!

I didn’t want to miss dinner with Aunt
Josephine, or Auntie Jo as we affectionately called her.

- Yeah. What time is she coming over?

Aunt Jo was the closest thing I had to a
mother. After our mother’s mysterious disappearance, our father
moved us from Los Angeles to Scotts Valley. Josephine was his only
sister and took care of us while he traveled during our younger
years.

- She’s coming at five.

I sighed. My shift started at
four-thirty.

- I have to work. Why don’t you come to the
deli for dinner so I can see her?

Even though Aunt Jo lived right around the
corner from us, I never wanted to miss an opportunity to spend time
with her – without John, her new husband. I tried not to be jealous
of him, after all she’d sacrificed everything while we were growing
up; she deserved a life of her own. But things didn’t feel the same
anymore and I didn’t feel like I could just drop by now that she
was married. And thinking about it reopened a wound I’d tried to
forget.

- I’ll ask and see. We were planning on
having Mexican.

Disappointment flooded me. Not only was I
missing out being around the people I loved, I was missing out on
my favorite food too.

I worked at Erik's, the best sandwich deli in
town. For an emotion reader, it was a job I felt comfortable doing.
Something about people being hungry didn’t bother me. In all
reality though, I didn’t need to work. My dad, Russell Parker, made
pretty good money as a computer consultant. Since he traveled on
business frequently, he wanted everyone available to do things
together when he was in town. My job encroached on that time, so he
asked me multiple times to quit. It was tempting, but when he was
gone, I would get so bored alone at the house since Luke was rarely
there. Plus, I liked having my own money to spend as I wanted. But,
today I wished I’d taken him up on his offer.

The crowded hallway was already buzzing of
weekend plans, even though it was only Tuesday. I had plans. I was
scheduled to work.

I shoved my books into my locker and slammed
it shut.

“Where’d you park?” I asked Sam as she did
the same; her locker just a few down from mine.

“I got a spot in the front today,” she said
in a teasing tone.

“Oh? Well, I’m in the back today, so I guess
I’ll see ya tomorrow?”

I was a tad jealous because she’d be home by
the time I left the back parking lot, but that’s my fault for
getting to school at the last minute.

“Yeah. See ya,” she called from behind me and
we headed in separate directions.

. . .

We lived close to my school in a quaint three
bedroom, two-story, Cape Cod home, the cutest house on the block.
It had a lot of character with navy blue shutters, a large front
porch and white picket fence covered in fuchsia-colored climbing
roses.

I parked at my usual spot on the street and
walked up the cobble stone path to the front door. Luke and Dad
were already home, hanging out in the kitchen catching up after
Dad’s weeklong business trip.

“Welcome home, Dad,” I said giving him a big
hug.

My dad, a very handsome man in his early
fifties, was tall and trim and slightly balding with salt and
pepper hair. At the moment, he was still wearing his ‘monkey suit’,
as he liked to call it and appeared tired.

“Thanks. Good to be home, Jules,” he said
affectionately while he flipped through a huge stack of mail.

“You guys still going to Mexican food for
dinner?” I asked, slumping down at the kitchen table already
knowing the answer.

“We were talking about it,” Dad said.

“Oh, I wish I wasn’t working.”

“Just call in sick,” Luke said as he leaned
against the counter, his mouth full of food.

He wore his favorite torn jeans and faded
black tee-shirt, eating a bowl of cereal. Every time he leaned over
to take a bite, his black hair fell into his eyes and he had to
brush it aside.

Luke was four years older than me and still
lived at home. He was taking a few courses at the local junior
college unsure of what he wanted to do ‘
when he grew up’
and
currently unemployed. So, for him to give me ‘work’ advice was a
bit ludicrous.

“I can’t do that,” I said annoyed he’d even
suggested it. “They are depending on me to be there tonight.”

“There’s a simple solution to this,” Dad
said, looking at me with kind but weathered eyes. He could give me
his full attention now that he’d pulled out all the bills and
tossed the rest.

“Dad, we’ve talked about this before.”

“It’s just that you’re only young once in
your life and you’ll have plenty of time in your life to work,” he
said matter-of-factly. “Actually, there’s only one person in this
room that should be working but isn’t, but I’m not pressing the
matter since he’s still in school.”

My dad’s eyes stayed glued to me, but Luke
instantly got interested in rinsing out his bowl, humming to
himself. I chuckled. It seemed comical for a second, until I took
to heart what my dad said.

“I know,” I mumbled, biting my lip. “Maybe I
should quit.”

My dad walked over and hugged me again. His
disappointment mixed with mine and I found it difficult to stick to
my decision, until another idea came to mind.

“Maybe I can get off early.”

“I’d like that,” he said as he let go of me
and took his bags upstairs.

If I left early, at least I wouldn’t miss the
whole evening and work wouldn’t be upset with me. I sat for a few
minutes mulling it over while Luke changed the conversation to the
most recent car he was dismantling. But I tuned him out as soon as
he mentioned distributor caps.

Aladdin, our cat, rubbed up against my leg,
begging for some attention. We called her Aladdin, even though it
was a boy’s name, because one day, she magically showed up and put
a spell on us.

I reached down to scratch her ears, but then
felt the weight of my procrastination. I couldn’t prolong getting
ready for work any longer.

“I need to go,” I finally said. “Tell Jo I’m
sorry, okay?”

I headed upstairs to my room situated in the
back of the house and peeled off my school clothes. The sofa
burgeoned with my entire wardrobe, making it difficult to find my
work polo shirt and khakis.

My Dad was kind enough to give me the master
bedroom a few years back. He thought I’d appreciate having my own
bathroom, being the only girl in the house. But the best part of
this sanctuary wasn’t the view of our redwood nested patio and
creek out the large windows. My favorite part was the fact the
distance separated me from the rest of the family and allowed me
freedom from their emotions – huge bonus.

I touched up my make-up, started some laundry
before saying my goodbyes and ran out the door. I really hoped my
idea would work and the deli wouldn’t be crowded tonight.

As I started my car and drove down my street,
I fought a foreboding feeling I was making a mistake. Unsure, I
glanced back at my house through my rearview mirror wondering if I
should turn around. But, my sense of responsibility took over and I
kept driving unaware my decision to go to work tonight would
forever change the course of my destiny.

. . .

2 – FALLING

I rushed into the deli, glanced at the clock
and breathed a sigh of relief – right on time.

My shift should’ve started without a hitch
except I was starving and the aroma of baking bread hit my stomach
like a jack-hammer. I would’ve been snagging a piece if it weren’t
for Kelly’s impatient glare behind a long line of customers. So
reluctantly, I deposited my things in the back and tied an apron on
instead. My hunger would have to wait until my break.

The deli’s interior resembled an old
fashioned café, very homey in its decor. An old wooden fence stood,
separating the line where customers ordered from where the tables
sat. Lanterns, wooden wagon wheels and camping paraphernalia
littered the walls along with a pot bellied stove in the
corner.

I took over the cash register and Kelly left
without saying a word. I shrugged it off and greeted my first
customer. The quicker I got rid of the line, the sooner I could get
out of there. But hope of leaving early turned into disappointment
as more and more people came into the deli and I couldn’t help them
fast enough. I did my best to keep a good attitude, but felt it
slipping as I saw my window of opportunity close.

After three grueling hours of serving what
seemed like thousands of hungry, demanding customers, the deli was
suddenly empty. I was shocked when the manager asked if anyone
wanted to go home early and I jumped at the chance.

“Thanks,” I called out as I exited the
store.

Once outside, I ripped off my apron and ran
over to my car, threw it onto the back seat and checked the clock
on the dash – 7:46. Knowing my family, I suspected they’d eaten
already and were home by now. I wondered if I should let them know
I was on my way, but decided to surprise them instead.

I flew down the road and imagined their
faces, especially Jo’s, when I walked in the door. They couldn’t
continue the ongoing card game
Nertz
without me and I felt
tonight that I would be taking the crown from Luke. I smiled and
pressed the gas pedal harder.

My car hugged the winding road that flanked
the forest surrounding my housing development. I had to drive the
long way around, the back entrance still buried by a quarter mile
of rock deposited by a mudslide years ago.

It didn’t matter —there was only a mile to go
and I’d be home in five minutes, but I felt my car jerk. I eased up
on the gas, but it jerked again, this time losing power. I panicked
and imagined my car dying in the middle of the road so I pulled the
car onto the shoulder. To my dismay, the engine sputtered and
quit.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I
muttered.

I tried the starter again. The engine revved
to life, sputtered and died. Dread spread throughout my body as I
turned the key again, listening to it moan over and over without
catching. I gave up and rested my head on the steering wheel. There
was no use in trying anymore – I was pretty sure I’d run out of
gas, again.

Sometime ago, my car decided to permanently
display it had a ¼ tank of gas. To keep track of the mileage, I
pressed the odometer counter each time I filled up the tank, so I
would know when to refill. But the last time I got gas, a really
cute guy in a BMW distracted me and I forgot to press the button.
After I realized my mistake, I decided to keep track mentally. I
should’ve known the flaw in my plan, since math and I didn’t get
along.