Year 28 - J.L. Mac Page 0,10

I hold my head high and keep my eyes locked on his, refusing to back down or show weakness. Teddy said I should show no fear. Of course Teddy also said the reason Sy picks on me is that he likes me… like that, so I take my big brother’s advice with a grain of salt.

“Fine,” he says smugly then fast as lightning his lips are on my skin in the spot just below my ear and his arms around me like we are together. The whole hallway which is filled with classmates, erupts. They’re all cackling and laughing and oh’ing and ah’ing. My stomach dips, my cheeks burn and I shove him back, glaring at him.

“Not so bad,” he says in a way that I can’t tell if it’s a question or a statement. He smirks arrogantly then turns to walk away, high-fiving Chicken Nugget on his way. I can already see those two conspiring to get into trouble together.

Ugh!

The main highway coming into town seems all at once familiar and foreign. It’s been a decade since I’ve driven these roads. The tall grass along the roadside still sways smoothly in the breeze as though it’s underwater. The buildings downtown are all accounted for as I drive past them. Red’s Garage is on the left, Lovely Locks hair salon where the “purple-haired’s” as daddy calls the old ladies in town—go to get their hair rolled and set every week is on my right. I smile. The town florist, Palmetto Grove Growers has a fresh look on their storefront but the marquee is the same. Old Bayou Diner, a place I ate countless meals with Sylas. I swallow hard and press my foot down on the accelerator, eager to get to my parent’s house and away from memory lane.

The minute the lime green nightmare pulls into my parents’ gravel driveway, relatives begin filing out waving from the front porch like Forrest Gump waving to Lieutenant Dan on the dock.

“Jesus fuck, Bubba Gump Shrimp Company and crew,” I whisper as I wave back, a stiff smile plastered on. I put the car in neutral and pull the e-brake behind dad’s pickup, the Gold Star sticker in the back window of his Ford not going unnoticed. A stab of pain pierces my chest at the sight of the Gold Star no family wants attached to them. I take a fortifying breath, forcing away all thoughts of Gold Stars and how people acquire them before facing my relatives. I swing the door open and the hugging and petting begins.

“Oh, hon’ you made it! Look at you,” my mom says like it’s a miracle and yeah, okay… perhaps it is. It’s no secret I am not keen on being back home. She hugs me then holds me back from her by my upper arms, the blue eyes that match mine surveying me in that way mothers do.

“Hey, Momma.”

“You’re like a celebrity, Rae! My goodness this dress,” she beams touching the fabric like it’s a foreign substance, and to her I suppose it is. My mom’s closet contains nothing designer and why would it? This is Palmetto Grove. High fashion doesn’t even get their attention. It’s not what blows their hair back around here. What does blow their hair back is Friday night football games and Homecoming and Mardi Gras and crawfish season and the annual July fourth celebration downtown. Shopping for the hottest new pieces from all the trending designers is a small vice of mine, and while it provides me with a sense of catharsis Gucci, Tom Ford, Givenchy and all their expensive comrades are irrelevant to people here. Mom steps aside, making room for my dad to retrieve his hug. He’s already pulled my suitcase from the pregnant roller skate.

“So glad you made it honey. You look even better in person than on the TV,” he says in his gentle voice, his blue-green eyes sparkling down at me.

“Thanks, Daddy,” I whisper, briefly resting my cheek against his chest the way I did when I was a girl. I may be many things but I will always be a daddy’s girl at heart. While I don’t enjoy the idea of this trip, I do very much enjoy smelling my father’s aftershave with his arms around me again.

“Raaaaae!” Ellie squeals on her way down the steps before tackle-hugging me. “Ohmygod! It feels like I haven’t seen you in aaaaaages!” I squeeze her tightly against me and mentally shove away the emotion clogging my throat.

“Can’t