A gentle breeze whispered through the dried out swaying stalks of the meadow. A soft baby blue spread uninterrupted overhead, save for the three spots that were dotted fluffy white with clouds and the warm golden glow of the sun. It was a picturesque spring day. At least it would be if not for the rusted beige sedan that rolled steadily backwards down the hill. Two young women chased hurriedly behind it. One, the taller of the two with bronze skin and smoky blue hair, was a few steps closer to it. In fact, she was only two paces behind when it crashed heavily into the sturdy oak tree that had claimed a space just off the road for hundreds of years.
"I am so dead!" the shorter girl groaned, slowing to a stop beside the wrecked car. She folded herself in half, resting her hands on her knees while she regained her breath.
Her friend spared her a worried glance. "It's not that bad," she lied.
Auburn hair got twisted nervously between trembling fingers as the girl inspected the old Chevy. The first thing she noticed was the horribly bent back bumper. Also visible was the low branch that had caught the middle of the windshield and caused a spiderweb to appear in the glass. The left taillight had been shattered; it was not salvageable in the slightest. Other than that though there didn't appear to be too much damage.
"My mom is going to kill me," Lyla insisted as she sank to the grass. Her head dropped into her hands as the reality of her situation fully sank in. "She is actually going to murder me."
"No she won't," the taller girl, Naomi, assured her. She lowered herself to sit down beside her friend and she placed a comforting hand on her back. A sliver of hope crept in as she felt Lyla relax at her touch. "She loves you."
Lyla shot her a look. "Trust me, she loves that Impala more."
Naomi snorted. She probably shouldn't have laughed, considering how Lyla was clearly going through something. She just couldn't help it. For as long as she'd known her, Mrs. Murphy had always been incredibly understanding, with enough patience to make a verified saint seem irritable. Then again, Naomi had also never wrecked Mrs. Murphy's car before. Even so it was difficult to imagine a scenario in which the woman lost her cool. After all, Naomi and Lyla had been friends since middle school. Poor Mrs. Murphy had had to put up with a lot since then.
"Shall we run off to Canada?" Naomi offered.
It was Lyla's turn to snort. Even in her panic, she had to crack a grin. It faded fast, but it was still visible long enough to make Naomi feel better about their predicament. If Lyla could smile at all then things couldn't be so terrible. After a moment she struggled to her feet, finally ready to face the music. Naomi accepted the hand Lyla offered to help her up. "I think it'll start up at least," Lyla said as she tugged open the driver's side door.
"See? How can your mom be upset if her car still runs?" Naomi pointed out.
Lyla didn't say anything. Her only response was to turn the keys in the ignition. Her theory was proven correct as the engine roared to life with only the usual amount of odd noises. The sigh that left Lyla's lips let Naomi know that she was relieved. Apparently she hadn't actually been sure the vehicle would start up. Thank goodness it had. Lyla lived nearly eight miles away and Naomi really didn't want to walk that distance.
"Luck must be on our side," Naomi boasted. Her statement was slightly interrupted by a loud clanging noise. She cringed at the sound, noting the irony in her words as she realized what had caused the commotion. "That was your bumper, wasn't it?"
The driver let out a wordless groan. The red locks that framed her face hid her head from view as she leaned her forehead against the steering wheel. This, from Naomi's experience, was Lyla's way of admitting defeat. "Can you please grab the license plate?" she asked, her voice muffled.
Naomi nodded. "On it."
She decided Lyla might be right; there was a chance Mrs. Murphy was going to kill her.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Calm.
That was the expression on the aging woman's face. Not a serene calm, either. Rather an eerie calm. A dark calm, one that signifies danger. Like the calm before a storm. Needless to say, it was not the reaction the girls were expecting. Noami wasn't sure if it was better or worse than getting yelled at.
"So," Mrs. Murphy began in that dangerously even tone, "how did this happen?"
Naomi and Lyla exchanged glances, trying to determine how much to say. The true story was that Lyla had almost hit another vehicle. The other driver had pulled their truck over to the side of the road and yelled profanities at them and threatened to call the police. Lyla had-- against Naomi's warnings-- pulled her own vehicle off to the side at the top of the hill. She'd put it in park at least, but she'd also left the keys in the ignition. It was while Naomi stood off to the side during the intense screaming match that followed that she'd seen the sedan start to roll through the grass.
This, of course, was not the story either girl wanted to tell Lyla's mom. Naomi found herself hoping she was telepathic as she tried to silently communicate to Lyla that she should just omit the entire first half of the story. They had no choice but to explain the damage done to the vehicle. They did not, however, need to mention that Lyla had been face-to-face with some severely incensed redneck having a screaming match. After all, it wasn't as though Lyla had actually hit the man's truck. They'd been much too close for comfort, but there had been no actual contact between the two vehicles. Naomi stared deep into Lyla's eyes, thinking as hard as she could, 'Don't mention the truck. Don't mention the man. Don't mention the yelling.' Over and over like a personal mantra she thought it.
"Well?" Mrs. Murphy prompted.
At last Lyla tore her gaze away from Naomi to focus on her mother. She took in a shaky breath, clearly thinking hard thoughts of her own. "I thought a parking spot on the edge of the hill was a better idea than it was."
Mrs. Murphy's expression didn't change. Naomi couldn't guess whether Lyla's answer was enough for her or not when she asked, "Did you apply the emergency brake before you got out?"
"No," Lyla responded truthfully.
Naomi held her breath. She felt terribly like a criminal awaiting the jury's decision. Innocent or guilty, and what would her sentence be? More accurately, what would Lyla's sentence be? The more Naomi thought about it, she supposed she was more like the family member of the defendant awaiting the conviction. Would her loved one come home or be locked away? Somehow that realization was worse, and it was worsened still by the mask over Mrs. Murphy's face as she contemplated the situation.
"Okay," she said finally, and it was nowhere near the response Naomi had been expecting.
Apparently it wasn't what Lyla was expecting either because, with a look of astonishment on her face, she merely parroted the, "Okay?" sounding perplexed.
"Well, I'm just glad you're both alright," Mrs. Murphy shrugged. Then she narrowed her eyes at her daughter. "You'll pay for the damages you did to my car."
"Of course," Lyla agreed, and both girls let out a breath.
"Okay," Mrs. Murphy said again. She cleared her throat, looking suddenly stern. "You're also going to pay for everyone's ice cream tonight."
Naomi laughed at the indignant expression on Lyla's face. "After what you put me through," Naomi teased, "it's only fair."
"It's only fair," Mrs. Murphy echoed, giving Naomi a wink.
Lyla rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Deal," she conceded with mock reluctance.
Naomi laughed at her pout as the trio made their way to the car. Mrs. Murphy let out an exaggerated gasp as she caught sight of her precious Impala for the first time since the accident. Lyla had the decency to look sheepish as she and Naomi crawled into the backseat. She couldn't help but wonder if they'd still be going to get ice cream if they'd told her about the man in the truck. 'Probably not,' Naomi decided. While she felt bad about lying to Mrs. Murphy, she was still glad that Lyla had listened to her silent appeal to skip that part of the story.
"Did I ever tell you girls about when I worked for a company that made calendars?" Mrs. Murphy suddenly asked, breaking Naomi out of her reverie. The girls in the backseat both stared at her, puzzled.
"When was this?" Lyla demanded. Naomi couldn't remember a time before when Mrs. Murphy had mentioned it either.
"Oh, it was a while ago," Mrs. Murphy told them. She looked up into the rearview mirror, a sly grin on her face. "I got fired just for taking a day off."
Naomi snickered at that. Mrs. Murphy and her puns were like white on rice. You didn't get one without the other. She happened to find it all very amusing. Lyla of course outwardly groaned at her mother's antics, but Naomi was also certain Lyla secretly enjoyed the jokes.
By the time they pulled into the parking lot of Inside Scoop, Mrs. Murphy's favorite ice cream parlor just for the name alone, the three women had almost forgotten about the wreck that had brought them there. Only until they stepped out of the vehicle anyway. As soon as they walked around the back, Mrs. Murphy got a sad look on her face as she eyed the damage more thoroughly. Her lips were pursed, but she didn't say anything more about it. Naomi felt bad for her. She knew Mrs. Murphy had a special connection with her Impala. Something to do with Lyla's absent father, Naomi was pretty sure. 'There's nothing ice cream won't fix,' she thought with a sad smile as she remembered what Mrs. Murphy had told her the first time she'd taken her here.
She wasn't wrong, especially when the ice cream was from Inside Scoop. The shop was located in an older building that had been refurbished to look like the inside of a newsroom. Authentic newspaper clippings from as far back as the 1880's decorated the walls and rolling office chairs dotted the floor, making it easy to add extra seating to tables as necessary. Naomi's favorite part was the giant whiteboard that covered the entire south wall. It was split into sections like Sports, Entertainment, News Report, and of course Front Page. Guests were allowed to grab a marker and fill in some story ideas. Lyla and Naomi almost never contributed in writing, but they both loved to draw. After all, they say a picture is worth a thousand words.
"Hiya, Henry," Mrs. Murphy greeted Inside Scoop's shop owner as the trio entered the building.
The shop owner waved at them from his spot behind the counter. "Evening, Heather," he called with a smile. He turned to the two girls she had with them. "And what sort of trouble are you two getting into today?" Henry worked most days in his shop rather than leaving it to be run by a manager. He often said it was easier to run a shop when you knew what was going on in there. As such, he knew all his regulars and he was well aware of Naomi and Lyla's infamous ability to find trouble wherever they went. This particular day, of course, was no exception.
Mrs. Murphy rolled her eyes at the question as she answered, "Wrecking my car." Henry's eyes widened at her response.
"We're okay," Lyla assured him as he opened his mouth to respond.
"We actually weren't in the vehicle when it happened," Naomi clarified.
She was slightly worried Henry would want to know how it happened, but luckily the man just shook his head at the women and said, "I suppose this calls for a round of double scoop cones, on the house."
"You don't have to," Mrs. Murphy said quickly as Lyla pumped her fist in victory behind.
Henry shrugged, a smile tugging up the corners of his mustached lips. "Please, it's the least I can do. The usuals, I presume?"
Lyla nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, please."
Henry smiled at her response. "Always so polite," he commented before heading into the back to grab the cones.
Mrs. Murphy shot her daughter a look. "You better put some cash in that tip jar or I swear--"
"I'm way ahead of you," Lyla promised as she fished out three five dollar bills from her wallet. She held the bills up for her mom's inspection. Once she received an approving nod she stuffed the money in the jar as inconspicuously as she could.
It wasn't long after that Henry reappeared with the cones, slapping together the usual orders and handing them over free of charge. The evening passed quite quickly in bouts of laughter and ice cream. In fact it was too quick for Naomi's liking. It really felt like seconds later that Mrs. Murphy was pulling the car over in front of her house, bringing it to a stop for her to get out.
Naomi let out a breath. She wanted to ask if she could stay the night, but somehow she guessed that might be pushing it tonight. As relaxed as the woman had been about it, Lyla had still wrecked her mother's car. It was only fair to assume she might want to have a conversation about it. Naomi knew conversations like that were best done in private. Still she wished she could ask. Her house had never felt like a home. With the Murphys she always felt welcome.
As if sensing her hesitation, Mrs. Murphy reached an arm back and gave her a reassuring pat. "We'll see you tomorrow," she said with a sympathetic smile.
So there was her answer. Naomi put on a brave face as she crawled out of the car and made her way to the door. She stopped again just before the porch, her heart pounding wildly. Before she could suck in a breath a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind. She felt her lips curl into a grin as she melted into the embrace. She didn't have to turn around to know it was Lyla. The familiar aroma of honeysuckle and stray strands of red hair that tickled her bare arms already let her know.
"It's just one night," Lyla promised. Clearly she knew why Naomi was hesitating. Of course she knew. Most days she seemed to know Naomi better than Naomi knew herself.
A sigh slipped out instead of a response as Naomi finally turned to face the girl who had been her best friend for years. A question burned at the back of her throat as her heart hammered for an entirely different reason now. All her words died an unspoken death as her gaze met Lyla's forest green eyes. 'Not now,' she thought. The day's events were too much, and besides that her mom was in the car three feet away. The timing was wrong.
She nodded instead, still saying nothing. Lyla watched her closely as Naomi turned back around and strode purposefully to her front door. 'Someday,' she promised herself as she crossed the threshold. 'Just not today.' From the corner of her eye she saw Lyla wave as she closed the door behind her.
The house was dark. That was the first thing she noticed. After her eyes adjusted she managed to make out the slumped over figure of her father, fast asleep within the comfort of his dusty, old armchair. On the floor beside him was an empty bottle, a sight not uncommon. Just like Mrs. Murphy and her puns, Mr. Green was pretty inseparable from his precious liquor. Naomi closed her eyes from the sight as she crept past the pair and made her way to her room for the night.
"Night, Dad," she whispered as she slipped into her bedroom. It was a small room, with just enough space to accommodate a full-size bed, a mini nightstand, and a ratty red rug. The navy blue paint on the walls was peeling, and the sagging floorboards were closer to brown than their intended white. The ceiling was dotted with a few glow-in-the-dark stars that still managed to hang in up there, shedding a very faint light on a very faded poster of a singer Naomi had liked when she was five. The teen flipped on a light that flickered and threatened to burst and she settled onto her bed. Her phone buzzed, letting her know she'd gotten a text. Her stomach flipped, thinking it was from Lyla. A quick glance showed her it was Eli, a friend of hers from the eternal bore of a class called U.S. History.
"did u tell her??"
Naomi groaned at that. Of course she hadn't told her. She'd been gathering her courage for a year and she still hadn't told her. She kept telling herself the timing was wrong and that was why she hadn't told her. She was beginning to wonder if the timing was ever going to be right or if she was going to be stuck in this coward's loop forever.
She sent off a quick reply to Eli filling him in and got a frowny face emoji in return. Well fine then. She countered with a single word, a stone-cold promise:
"Tomorrow."
There. It had a date. This secret she felt like she'd been keeping her entire life would be spilled tomorrow. Her heart beat miles a minute inside her chest at the thought, but she couldn't tell if it was from nerves or ecstasy. Maybe a little of both. Either way, tomorrow she'd talk to Lyla. Tomorrow she'd know if her best friend felt the same.
If only she'd known then what tomorrow would bring.