The Grocery Market

My brother died in a motorcycle wreck when I was twelve years old. That was five years ago. Since then, my father and I have worked to try to get Motorcycles use banned from our small town of Albion, Idaho. Our town has a population of 269 people. Yeah, I know. Its like the size of a marble. But youd be surprised how much a Harley Davidson means to our town. My brothers name was Hendrick Charles Brynne Jr. He was six years older than me. He had just turned 18 when he died. He had gotten involved with the famous uncontrollable Albion gang. They couldnt be caught or controlled, no matter what you did. And they didnt do anything bad enough to get a longer jail sentence then a couple of months. It was a Friday night. The gang had drug him out to some bar called Hip Lind and got him beyond drunk. Then the all took their Harley Davidsons out and started playing chicken by riding on the other side of the road and moving just as a car came. But when a big rig came by, my brother didnt move out of the road on time. And you can interpret the rest. Ever since then, I have been what people call a Daddys Little Good Girl. My father is Hendrick Charles Brynne Sr. He sort of practically owns Albion, except he cant seem to pry those stupid Harley Davidsons out of our citizens hands. Cant they see that Motorcycles are dangerous? Look what they did to my brother. My brother and I were really close. Despite the fact we were so far apart, we were still close. I loved him so much. Every night he would come into my room, talking to me. He would tell me some about his life, but it was always vague, as if he was leaving out parts. Then I would tell him all about my life, not leaving out a single detail. I would tell him all about the latest activity me and my friends were planning to do, what my teachers said that irritated me and made me laugh, and my latest crushes. Needless to say, when he died it hit me hard. Iris, I heard my father call from downstairs. Its time to go to the Grocery Market. Come downstairs.

Coming, father, I called back, shutting my notebook and slipping it under my pillow. Mrs. Johnson told me that she thought writing down what had happened and what was happening now might help me. So far, it was just making me want to cry. But maybe Mrs. Johnson was right. Maybe it just hadnt taken its effect yet. I sighed and walked over to my vanity, pulling my natural white-blonde hair up into a perfect, sleek ponytail. I only wore it down in my room, and that was only sometimes. Father didnt like it when I left it down; he said it portrayed an unwanted message. I walked down the stairs where father waited for me. Going to the Grocery Market was a regular Tuesday routine for us. I know what youre thinking, a Grocery Market? Yeah, it seems a little outdated for modern times, but we had a family in town that owned it. And with all the vegetables they sold there, it helped keep my family and all the other families in Albion healthy. So I wasnt complaining. My father led me to our old 1970s Buick. It was gold and a little rusted, but it was still much safer than those death traps called Motorcycles. He walked to his side and I walked to mine. My father and I didnt talk much outside the Motorcycle debate and the latest gossip in town all those things about small towns you heard, about how everyone know everyone and our Gossip Mill is the most important thing to us, its true but we were still close none the less. Did you hear about Leslie Gardener? I asked my father as the tires of our Buick hit the highway. Father never played anything but said classical music, he said anything but classical portrays the wrong message. And because I wasnt really in the mood for another one of Beethovens masterpieces, I decided to speak. Debby Gardeners daughter? my father asked. Debby Gardener and her husband, John, owned the Grocery Market. I nodded, so my father continued, What about her? Shes pregnant, I informed him. His shocked face made me want to laugh, but I knew better. But isnt she only

Sixteen, I finished for him. He shook his head, saying nothing. After a while of silence he turned on the classical music. So much for avoiding it. I sighed and looked in the side mirror, taking in my features. Father didnt like me wearing make-up, he said it was slutty. Gretchen and Ella say I dont need any make-up though. They said I was gorgeous enough. I didnt know, though. It was true that one of the Gossip Mills biggest topic was how gorgeous I was, but I sometimes wondered if maybe everyone thought that because we lived in such a small town and they hadnt ever seen anyone outside of Albion. With my natural white-blonde hair, cornflower blue eyes, and naturally long, dark eyelashes I was pretty, but not gorgeous like they all said. I felt myself move around with the car as my father pulled into the gravel parking lot of the Grocery Market. My father handed me a list of things that I needed to collect before he got out of the car. He always gave me the list and he would go around and socialize in order to maintain his image. Sometimes it irritated me that I had to do all the work why he stood around and talked, but I would never say that out loud. I exited the Buick, glancing once at the tag that was nailed to the back of our car. It had been my brothers idea years before to get Brynne written on it instead a regular old jumble of letters and numbers, that way everyone would know when we were coming. Not that anyone else in town had a 1970s Buick, but my father had still been thrilled when my brother had mentioned the idea. When my brother died, my mother had wanted to change the tag, but my father and I wouldnt let her. I liked it there. It helped remind me that he once was here. My father didnt like to talk about him. My brother, I mean. He said it wasnt good to dawn on something that wasnt here anymore; he said it hurt the brain. But personally I thought it hurt him, and that he really did miss my brother despite what he said. I followed my father to the gate that entered the Grocery Market, list gripped in my hand. Mr. Brynne! I heard someone coo. My father and I both turned around to see Debby Gardener smiling at us from behind the checkout counter.

My father smiled at Mrs. Gardener. Hello, Debby, he said. Hows Leslie been lately? Mrs. Gardeners face clouded and I rolled my eyes and walked off. Sometimes I wondered if I should even take part in the Drama Mill. It was stupid, and Im sure poor Leslie didnt want the whole town knowing she was pregnant. And sometimes the things everyone was talking about werent even true. The first thing on my list was apples. Mother must be planning to make another apple pie. Mothers apple pies were amazing, the whole town loved them. Sometimes people even had my mother make them for celebrations like birthdays or partys. I personally was sick of them. I had eaten so many pieces of apple pie in my life that if I told you the number you probably wouldnt believe me. I sighed and grabbed a bag, feeling it with apples. I had to inspect every single apple, making sure it was absolutely perfect. If I didnt, father would get angry with me. And that was the last thing I wanted. Once I had six perfect apples, I looked back down at the list and saw the next thing on the list was lemons. What on earth did we need lemons for? There had never been lemons on the list before. I turned around, ready to go look for the lemons, when I tripped over something. I scream escaped my lips and I felt my feet slipping from under me. I shut my eyes and prepared myself to fall and get hurt, when something caught me. I opened my eyes to see a boy with dirty blonde hair and bight, ocean blue eyes staring down at me. More like someone. Whoa, he said. Are you ok? I quickly jolted up back on my feet and took a step away from him. Yes, I snapped, smoothing out my dress. I had worn a white floral sundress that came past my knees. Father said anything that came above my knees was slutty. Im fine. The boy put his hands up is surrender. I knew who he was, but I didnt really know him. In a town as small as mine you knew everyone. His name was Spencer Martin. He was wearing a white t-shirt and worn jeans and had on an old leather jacket. He looked extremely good, which just irritated me even more. Ok, he

said. I was just making sure you didnt get hurt or anything. I would be more careful if I were you. I just glared at him. I didnt exactly know why I was so angry at him, he had technically helped me. But I didnt need his help. I knew his type and I knew the crowd he hung out with. And I also knew he owned one of those wretched Harley Davidsons. Then, without another word, I stormed away, my ponytail bobbing as I walked. I didnt want to deal with his type. And if I could help it, his type would be broken before you knew it.

My Wonderful Jogging Experience

When I finally finished gathering everything on the list my father had given me, I walked up to the check-out counter where my father still stood talking to Debby Gardener. Debby smiled widely at me when I walked up. Well, hello there, Ms. Iris! she cooed cheerfully. How have you been lately? Ive been good, thank you, I said sweetly as I laid everything in my basket onto the counter one thing at a time. I could see my father smiling at me out of the corner of my eye. I was glad he was proud of me; I just wished it didnt have so much to do with his disappointment in my brother. Thats wonderful, Iris, Debby continued. Then she turned to my father and said, Youre so lucky to have a daughter as wonderful and well-behaved as Iris. I just wish Leslie could be more like her. A sad tone took over Debbys voice as she spoke the last sentence. My father smiled and put his arm around my shoulders. Yep, he said. Shes my pride and joy. This, I knew, was true. But sometimes I wondered if my brother was still here if that would be the case, if things would be different. I was pretty sure I would be different. Probably more of who I wanted to be. Debby smiled as she rung up our groceries. Your total is 25.49, she told us. I should have been focusing on whatever Debby asked me next, but for some reason my mind drifted back to Spencer. He had looked really, really good. But they all looked good. Even my brother had been good looking. Not as good looking as Spencer, though. No boy I had ever seen, not even on TV, was as good looking as Spencer. But that was beside the point. Iris, I heard, and I jerked back to reality. Both my father and Debby were staring at me now. What? I asked them. Debby just asked you a question, my father informed me. Oh, I said, looking at Debby and smiling. Im sorry. My mind was elsewhere. What was it?

She smiled back at me and repeated her question, You have a Birthday coming up, dont you? Less than a month. I smiled and nodded. It was sort of irritating when everyone in town knew when youre birthday was. Yes, I said. Two weeks from tomorrow. Thats great! she cried. And how old will you be? Seventeen, I answered. Oh, wonderful, Debby said, keeping up her cheerful attitude. And I presume you will be having a big party? Of course, I replied. Perhaps you and Leslie will be able to attend? An angry, guarded expression formed on Debbys face. Well, she said, her cheerful tone taking on a more snobby one. I doubt Leslie will be going anywhere any time soon, but well see. I nodded and smiled as father gathered up our food and motioned for me to follow him out to the parking lot. Poor Debby, he said as soon as we were out of earshot of Debby, shaking his head. It must be so embarrassing to be a mother of a soon-to-be sixteen year old mother. I sighed and rolled my eyes, climbing into the Buick. I wanted to defend Leslie, just say something about her, anything, but I couldnt go against my dad. I just couldnt. And did you hear who the father was? my father asked, slamming his door and putting on his seatbelt on. I started moving with the car again as he pulled out of the gravel parking lot. No, father, I said, trying to sound interested. Who is the father? Derek Mallnut! he cried, as if it was the most terrible thing in the world. Derek Mallnut was my age, and was Spencers best friend. It was strange how much I knew about Spencer without even knowing him at all.

Oh, I said, wishing my tone didnt sound so bored. But knowing my father, he wouldnt notice. Thats terrible. I know! he cried. Its times like these where I thank God that I have you as a daughter. He put his hand on my knee and patted it. I love you, Iris. I love you too, father. More than several hours later and I still couldnt shake Spencer out of my mind. And it was causing me to lose sleep, considering it was 11:30 at night and I was tossing and turning. I sighed and kicked off my cover, siting up. Why was I getting so worked up over Spencer? I barely even knew him. And he was the type I absolutely hated. The type with the Harley Davidson, the type thats going to get himself killed. I got out of my bed and walked over to my closet. I would go on jogs when I couldnt get things off my mind. I hadnt been on a jog in forever, not since about a year after my brother died. I dug in the back of my closet, pulling out a sports bra and a pair of brown cotton shorts. I kept them in case I was to go on a jog; it was always hot during the summer. Father didnt even know I had them and he would die if he found out. So I kept them hidden. I slipped on the sports bra and shorts and tip-toed down the stairs. I couldnt wake my father up; I couldnt even imagine what he would do to me if he saw me like this. Sure, I had my hair up and sure my mom would defend me the best she could but he would still be angry. And I didnt want him angry. Silently shutting the door behind me, I started jogging down the sidewalk. Luckily, no one in our little excuse of a town actually wonders the streets at night, so I had practically the entire town to myself. Usually, jogging would completely clear my mind. But every time I would clear my head, Spencer would creep his way back in. Looking down at me with those intense, bright blue eyes, asking me if I was ok. I would have never pegged his type to be considerate e or caring.

I shook my head, shaking Spencer out of my mind. This wasnt right. Just because he had caught me and looked down at me with those beautiful, bright, shining, blue eyes doesnt mean I should be obsessing over him. Unless Im obsessing over how to stop him and that Motorcycle of his. Just then, I felt something stop my foot from moving. I looked down just in time to see my foot turning under me, and I fell to the ground. I yelped out as pain seeped through my ankle, hurting worse than anything I had ever experienced. When I got to the ground I began to cry, grabbing my ankle. It hurt so badly, and I was so obsessed with worrying about how much it hurt, I almost didnt hear the loud humming of a Motorcycle pull up. Whoa, a voice said. Are you ok? I didnt even have to look up to know who the voice belonged to. It was the same voice that had been replaying itself in my head since early morning. Spencer bent down beside of me, What happened? Im fine! I cried, jumping to my feet again. But when I did, a shot of pain seeped through my foot like no other. I yelped out in pain again, and felt myself falling to my knees again. But Spencer caught me before I could hit the ground. Really? he said, looking into my eyes. Because it doesnt seem like it. I reached up and wiped a tear away from my eye. Im fine, I said. I just fell. He nodded, It seems like every time we meet you are doing that. What hurts? My right foot, I whimpered. I wanted to ask him what the hell he thought hurt, but I figured it wasnt the best time. Mm-hmm, he answered. Luckily, there was a bench a few feet away, so he led me to it so I could sit down. Then, he bent down and started to examine my foot. He touched it, and I flinched. He continued to examine it for what seemed like forever before he finally looked back up at me and spoke. I think you sprung it, he informed me. I groaned, Great. He sighed and put his arm around me and started leading me to something. It took me a minute to realize it was his motorcycle.

Oh, hell no! I cried, stopping. Oh, he said, looking at me with raised eyebrows. His blue eyes twinkled. So she cusses, does she? Ignoring his comment, I said, There is no way in hell I am getting on that thing! He sighed and rolled his eyes. Was it possible that he was getting more and more good looking as the seconds ticked by? Well, he said. Seeing as you can barely walk and your house is a couple blocks away from here, I dont see how you have much of a choice. I shook my head violently. No, I said. I cant! Iris, he said, looking at me with those intense blue eyes of his. Nothing is going to happen. There are no other cars on the road and Im not going to play chicken. I promise you, you are more likely to get hurt walking home then riding with me. How could I say no to those eyes? Fine, I replied, not really knowing what was coming out of my mouth. Spencer nodded and helped me atop it, then got on in front of me. Here, he said, holding out his helmet for me. I dont have an extra one, so youll have to wear mine. I just stared at it. What? he asked. Its black, I replied. He raised his eyebrows, obviously trying to hold back a laugh. He said, Youre kidding, right? When it was clear I wasnt, he continued, What? Would you rather it be pink? I shrugged, Pink is my favorite color. He shook his head, his adorable eyes glowing. Well, he said. Its either wear this one or deal without one. I sighed and took the helmet from him. I fastened it and wrapped my arms around Spencers waist. Taking a deep breath, I said, Ok, Im ready.

He chuckled and said, Hold on tight, Iris. One he took off, I screamed. I could feel myself shaking and I was squeezing Spencer so tight that I was sure I had to be hurting him. I was going to die. I was going to die. I would never see my mother again and my father would be disappointed in me just like my brother. I felt hot tears come to my eyes and my shaking start to increase. I was so busy planning my will I didnt even notice the Motorcycle come to a halt. Iris, I heard Spencer say. You can let go now. Were here. I looked up and saw my two-story house looming over us. Oh, I said, letting go of Spencer. That wasnt so bad. Spencer shook his head, taking his helmet off of me and hanging it on his handlebar. Then, he hopped off and put his arm around me so he could help me off. Does your foot still hurt? he asked me as he led me up to the door. What do you think? I snapped. He shrugged as we got to the door. Do you need me to help you inside too? he asked. I shook my head. That was not a good idea. I think I can make it, I lied. I would probably have to collapse of the couch for the rest of the night and claim I fell down the stairs or something. Ok, he said. And Iris? I looked at him, his stark blue eyes shining. I hope your foot gets better, he said, his face serious. I smiled at him before opening my door and going inside.