Accidents & Incidents

One

I love fall with its crisp, cool air that carries the smoke of chimneys, neighborhood barbecues, and piles of freshly raked burning leaves. Something in that smell foreshadows the long season of special occasions—Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, the start of a New Year with new possibilities. The first time I catch a hint of smoke in the October air, I get a fragrant glimpse into a different kind of life, a life that could be but isn’t yet mine.

I met Dennis on a perfect October day. The sun shone bright in the sky, and the same breeze that tangled my hair swept through the trees at the edge of the student parking lot. I hurried toward them, past the crowded rows of parked cars, feeling defiant and heady because I had just walked out on Keith. After twenty minutes of being ignored at the lunch table, I decided I might as well be alone.

Except I wasn’t. As my foot hit the wooded path, I spotted a guy with red, wavy hair leaning against a huge rock and holding a cigarette.

There’s a teacher coming. He thumbed off his ashes with one hand and motioned behind me with the other.

I twisted around. Mr. Frazier, the new business teacher, was headed our way. Shit. Students weren’t allowed anywhere during lunch except the cafeteria and the picnic area just outside it. Of course the one time I broke a school rule I had to get caught.

I turned back to the smoker, who took a final puff of his cigarette and twisted it onto the rock. He stuck the butt in his pocket and dusted off his leather jacket before coming out from the shelter of the woods.

Excuse me. He brushed past me, smelling like smoke and the outdoors.

I fell into step beside him, my knees shaking. Don’t get too close, I whispered as we neared the edge of the lot, where Mr. Frazier waited at the top of the steps. He’ll be able to tell you’ve been smoking.

He nodded slightly and came to a stop.

Y’all aren’t supposed to be out here during lunch, Mr. Frazier called out, straightening his tie that always seemed to hang crooked. I was glad it wasn’t one of the stricter teachers who caught us, but I’d also heard that Mr. Frazier was kind of inconsistent—sometimes he would write you up and sometimes he wouldn’t.

I looked at the smoker, hoping he had some excuse that would get us out of detention. But he just stood there, staring down at the asphalt.

I know ... I was mad at my boyfriend ... and I just ... wasn’t thinking. I had to stop between every few words to take a breath; I didn’t even want to think about Mom’s reaction if she found out I got in trouble at school.

Mr. Frazier eyed the smoker. So why are you out here? Are you the boyfriend?

No, sir. He stuffed his hands into his jacket. It looked like he was about to push through the pockets and slam his fists into the air.

I should write you both up. You know the rules.

Why wasn’t this guy saying anything?

Maybe begging was the way to go. Please don’t. We won’t do it again. At least I knew I wouldn’t.

Mr. Frazier shifted his weight back and forth. All right. Just this once. Go on back to the cafeteria. He stood there, waiting for us to get moving.

The guy headed toward the ramp instead of the steps where Mr. Frazier stood, and I wondered if he was taking my advice to not get too close or just being a little rebellious: I’ll go, but I’ll go my own way.

I caught up to him. Thanks for warning me.

He shrugged. It’s not like he hadn’t already seen you. He stared down at his tennis shoes, Starter ones from Walmart. Mom had bought me a similar pair last year, but I hardly ever wore them because I hated the way the logo let everybody know that I had to buy my clothes at Walmart.

Still. Are you new here? God, hopefully he was new, or I’d just told him he was basically unnoticeable.

I moved here back in August.

Me too. A year ago, I mean. What’s your name?

Dennis.

I’m Leslie.

And that was it for conversation until we reached the picnic area.

I guess I’ll see you around, I said, because it seemed weird not to say anything.

Later. He nodded at me and maneuvered past a group of freshman guys playing hacky sack.

I took a deep breath and went back to my seat at the center table beside Keith. He was red-faced and laughing, banging his palm on the table’s surface. Everyone else laughed with him, like they were posing for a yearbook snapshot while pretending not to acknowledge the camera.

No one seemed to notice I was back, or that I’d ever been gone.

~ ~ ~

Mom, on the other hand, always noticed me—just never in a good way. I hadn’t even gotten through the door yet and she was already mad.

Take your shoes off; I just vacuumed. And you’re going to wash the dishes before you go out tonight, understood? She stood behind an open drawer on the other side of the kitchen counter, holding a stack of envelopes up like a warning sign. It was the bill drawer, and judging from her mood and the envelopes, I knew it must be that time of the month. Bill-paying time was worse than when she got her period; at least there was a pill for that.

I pulled the door shut behind me. You don’t have to yell at me, I said, realizing as the words left my lips that I’d just broken the number one rule—no backtalk. Just keep your mouth shut and do as you’re told.

Her grip tightened on the envelopes. Lose the attitude, or you won’t be going out at all.

I kicked off my shoes and dropped my stuff off in my room, ignoring my dachshund Rufus’s frantic circling and barking. I knew if I stopped for even a minute, Mom would lay into me again, so I got started on the dishes as fast as I could, filling one side of the sink with warm suds and the other with hot water.

Mom scrambled around, picking up and setting down envelopes, irritated spurts of air hissing between her teeth.

What’s wrong? Maybe if I helped her find what she was looking for, she wouldn’t be so mad. Maybe.

I can’t find the credit card bill and I’ve got to pay it this afternoon. I swear to God, I am so tired of— I stopped scrubbing at a bit of hardened spaghetti sauce to find her staring at me, eyes blazing, before she pushed in front of me and snatched the plate and dishcloth from my hands, catching my skin with her fingernail. "Here. You’ll never get them done this way. Look. She scraped away furiously, the cloth gripped in her hand. You’ve got to put some elbow grease into it. She swished the plate through the rinse water, shoving it into the rack in one motion, and a splash of hot water landed on my face. It was my eyes that burned, though. I swallowed and edged back to take over, but she shook her head. Forget it. I’ll do them. Just go change your sheets and put the dirty ones in the washer so you can hang the laundry out before you leave. And don’t use too much detergent. My shift ends at ten thirty so I should be back before you are, but just in case, you are to be home by eleven tonight."

Mom—

What? Her back was still turned, her body focused on scouring another dish.

Never mind. I went back to change my sheets, then put the old ones in the washer before hiding out in my room while the cycle ran. I sat down on the bed and pulled out my math homework, but it made no sense as usual, especially with Mom’s criticisms still swirling around in my head. So I just let Rufus lick my tears away while I petted him, because at least he loved me.

Mom finally put the last dish in the rack—Slam!—shut the front door behind her—Slam!—and got in her car—Slam! I waited until I heard her peel out of the driveway before getting up and slamming my own door in response.

Two

I’d just finished putting on lip gloss when I heard the familiar horn of Keith’s red Chevy truck. He wouldn’t dare just honk when Mom was home, but when she wasn’t, he never came to the door.

You could come inside, you know. I fastened my seatbelt and checked out Keith’s clothes. He was wearing a pair of his nicer jeans and a gray jersey I hadn’t seen before, so I was glad I’d chosen something a step above my usual date outfit, opting instead for a clingy blue top that didn’t quite meet the school dress code, and a pair of jeans that hugged me just right.

He backed out of the driveway. What’s the point? You were ready, and we need to get going.

Whatever. I pulled down the visor to check my makeup. I could never get it to look quite right, despite trying various expert tips from the school library’s copy of Seventeen. And my hair could really use some highlights, or at least a cut by somebody other than the ever-changing crew at Great Clips. Still, I thought I looked okay, even though Keith hadn’t said anything, even though he hardly ever said anything anymore. So, what are we doing?

I don’t know. What time do you have to be home?

Eleven. My stomach clenched as I put the visor back in place.

Well, that’s just awesome. What happened to talking your mom into a later curfew?

Cut me some slack. She was yelling at me before I even got in the door. I could hear the whine in my voice and hated it, but the tears surfaced before I could stop them.

Keith sighed. "Please, don’t do that. Let’s just try to have a good time, okay?" He squeezed my knee and turned up the radio, the twang of his favorite country station filling the air.

Four extremely annoying songs later, we drove up the Hill, where all the well-off families in Ashwood, North Carolina lived, including the couple we were going out with—Keith’s best friend Caleb Cain, who never went by anything but his last name, and his girlfriend Meredith Mayberry. God, even their names were beautiful, and the thought of hanging out with them away from school had my stomach in knots. Not that they were stuck up, because they did have friends who weren’t lucky enough to live on the Hill. Keith’s parents both worked at the local furniture plant, and he lived in a small suburb just a few miles from the tiny houses and trailers that lined my street, but he and Cain had been best friends ever since they started playing basketball together in middle school.

So, this is it? I asked as Keith pulled into a long paved driveway.

Duh. He turned off the engine and pulled up the parking brake as we came to a stop. I forgot. You haven’t been here, have you?

I shook my head. It’s pretty. I took in the sheer expanse of it all. A perfect green lawn surrounded the driveway. On one side stood a vast white house, framed by a large oak tree from behind and a row of shrubs in front, and on the other side, two barns and several smaller trees opened up into a huge pasture that seemed to go on forever, reaching out into the distant woods that separated this part of town from the rest. I scanned the vehicles parked in the driveway. Where’s Cain’s Porsche?

Wrecked it. Didn’t you hear him talking about it? He’s been driving a rental for a while, but I don’t see it. That Audi must be his. He said his dad was thinking about getting him one. Keith pointed to a silver SUV that still had the dealer’s temporary license plate.

I didn’t know. Seems like a pretty good tradeoff.

Yeah, he said, and I thought I heard a twinge of jealousy in his voice. Keith loved his truck, and his parents made the payments during the school year, but it was used and I knew if he wrecked it, it would be the last one he’d own until he could make his own payments.

I followed Keith’s lead and got out, heading toward the front of the garage where the driveway widened into a small basketball court. Cain was knocking a ball effortlessly down and up between his hands, sending out sharp echoes of rubber smacking against pavement. He looked even sexier than usual, wearing tight jeans and a blue button-down shirt, the open collar revealing a silver cross on a leather cord against his browned skin. He nodded in our direction, shook his hair out of his eyes, and sank a perfect shot.

Good one. Keith grabbed the ball and tried a layup. He missed.

Cain swished the ball through the net again and let it bounce away. What’s going on, dude? You’re losing your touch.

Football’s keeping me busy right now. It’s good to have a Friday night off. He paused. You should go out for basketball again this year, though, now that Coach Rios is gone. Cain was a starting varsity player last year, but had gotten kicked off the team after just a couple of weeks. The rumor was he’d gotten into a fight over a girl, but I couldn’t imagine that. Cain didn’t have to fight over girls—he could have anybody he wanted.

Nah. Better things to do. He looked me up and down with his Carolina blue eyes. You’re looking hot tonight, Les. Wanna ditch these two?

I gave him what I’m sure was a stupid smile.

Hey, that’s my girlfriend you’re flirting with, Keith said lightly, wrapping his arms around me. Where’s yours?

Still getting ready. He walked into the garage and opened the door leading inside the house. Hey, Mer! Let’s go!

Keith let go of me and wandered over to the Audi. He bent down to examine its wheels, running his hand along the car’s glossy surface.

What do you think? Cain winked as he moved past me to join Keith, pulling a remote from his pocket.

Sweet ride. What’s the horsepower?

221. Feels like more, though. Killer sound system too. He popped the hood so Keith could take a look.

Have you got your keys, sweetie? Meredith waited for Cain’s answer before pulling the door shut behind her. Hey, Keith. Hey, Leslie. I like your shirt.

Thanks. I like your outfit too. I eyed it wistfully. She was wearing a brown plaid skirt with a blue top that matched her eyes, a pink cardigan, purple suede Mary Janes, and, draped over her arm, a patchwork Coach bag that somehow pulled it all together. She looked like she had just stepped from one of those magazine ads where the small print reveals words like Gucci and Prada and Price Available Upon Request, and Cain could have been in a magazine too, one of those black-and-white ads that radiated sensuality. I wrapped my arms around my Walmart self.

Meredith strolled over to Cain and tilted her head up to kiss him, her perfect blonde hair cascading down her back as her shirt lifted to reveal a flat, tanned stomach. Ready when you are, baby. I couldn’t believe how easily words like sweetie and baby rolled off her tongue; she and