Chapters I had forgotten how long I had been driving west across interstate 70, but it had definitely been a quiet a while. I had nothing against Kansas, but amber waves of grain should only go on for so long. I was on a trip out west to for my brother's wedding which was to occur in just under a week, and was barely half way there. I had been driving hard for two days by myself already, and it was staring to wear on me. I saw a sign for a turn-off to a small town coming up in three miles. It was still relatively early, only 6:30 in the evening, but I decided to take the exit when it came, only to find the town was actually another twenty miles down the road. I decided it was better to get off and get a good, long night's sleep rather than grab another room last minute. I had sensed my attention wavering that day more than was normal as I drove. I couldn't help grin at the thought that I would have time to eat a good meal that evening instead of fast-food twenty minutes prior to sleep. The small town I by chance decided to stop in was named of all things, Ponyville. Though this town was not the true destination of my odyssey it became all too dear to me because of the overwhelming hospitality the people there had for me.
I slid casually into the town with a sign that seemed to boast a population of one hundred and twelve. It was serene, almost frozen in time, like a picture, painted with gold in how the falling sun had cast its rays upon the buildings. I made a mental checklist of what to do and in what order. I decided on getting gas first, as that was the most dire of needs, then I'd check in to the local motel, go get something to eat, and finally come back to sleep.
"This'll be one heck of a night out" I thought to myself, "Crazy nights, that's me".
I pulled my truck, which seemed almost futuristic in the setting, into the gas station. It only had two pumps and the first was taken by an elderly gentleman in a pickup which seemed almost his own age. I pulled up to the pump surprised that it was advanced enough to have debt card access. This would only take a minute, and then I could be on my way. I payed, inserted the nozzle, set the lever to keep it flowing on its own, and leaned against my truck stretching my legs hard to get all the stiffness out from them. Closing my eyes I listened to the steady clicking of the pump give my truck life as it stole more of my money than should be allowed. It had been a minute or two and my tank I knew must almost be full.
"Hi, I've never seen you before, you must be new in town" came the cheery words of a girl I became painfully aware was standing less than a foot away from me. My eyes erupted open as I jumped so high, it almost cause my seating upon the side of the truckbed. Clutching my chest as I landed I observed the form of a bubbly girl approximately my age. She wore a long sleeved shirt with broad horizontal stripes of white and light blue, and a pink puffy skirt that reached just shy of her knees but had matching stockings that ran into her light blue slip on shoes. This was all completed by her hair which was huge and curly though not unkempt, with its huge coils reaching the middle of her back. The only thing that kept my mind from its striking likeness to the styles of the 80s and 90s was that it was all completely pink, but oddly not unfitting. She seemed to take notice as I continued to stare at her hair.
"Oh, ya, I dyed it a few days back for a wicked awesome party I threw for my friends, do you like it?" She asked running a hand through it.
"It, suits you" I stammer as she smiled wih delight. My eyes finally disengaged her hair and traveled down to actually look at her eyes. They were as brilliant as turquoise gems and she grinned wide.
"I’m sorry if I scared you, it’s just I haven’t seen someone new around here in so long I just got so excited and,” she caught herself, “oh ya, my name Diane by the way, it's so very nice to meet you" she said with her voice ringing in the same joyous tone as it had been since the very first alarming words. It was apparent by her demeanor that she was a very sweet and polite young lady, but unfortunately talked like lightning. Her words became too fast, even in my heightened state, for my tired ears and mind to discern. It became obvious how few visitors they did get as she rambled on incomprehensibly, though I did gleaned from her words something about a party for me and a bakery, moments before she disappeared, seemingly into the air. I checked the pump which must have stopped about the time Diane had appeared, and proceeded to remove the nozzle. I was then ready to set forth and check off the next item of my list though not before checking the half row in the back of the truck out of a playful paranoia. Pleasingly it was empty.
I continued down the one main street that lead through the length of the town. A small motel called the Mane Inn caught my eye. I was small and old, though not run down. I parked and proceed to check in wondering what was with the horse puns so many places had. Once I had my key I threw my bag in the room and left for dinner.
Famished, and not feeling terribly picky, I quickly sifted through my few options. I pulled into the parking lot of a small “ma and pa’s” style dinner. Upon entering, it became almost surreal with the checker tile floor and an actual jukebox. I felt as though I were in a retro movie. The establishment only had three tables taken and no one at the bar. No waitress was seen and so I was about to seat myself until a large fellow waving his whole arm, like I was some long lost friend, caught my attention. He beckoned me to come over to the booth where both he and a young girl across from him sat. They were to my right, halfway down the wall. I as drew near, the girl though looking the opposite way quick changed sides. She was now sitting with the large man and both looked directly at me as stopped.
“Yes sir?” I spoke half of me filled with confusion and the other with fear. The man before me was almost as tall as me sitting down and I am rather tall. He was larger than a stallion and looked more power than a bear. He looked like someone that should’ve been from the south. He wore a plaid shirt that was primarily red with its sleeves rolled up.
He grinned, “Well don’t just stand there, take a seat”. His slight southern draw was very mellow and reminded me of home. I slid onto the bench with my fear having dissipated. The woman spoke up with a look of excitement in her eye.
“Howdy” her country accent infinity more pronounced, “My name is Jackie and this here is my brother, everyone calls him Big Mac.”
“I can see why” and he gave a polite grin at my words. “I’m guessing he’s your big brother”
“Sure is, and he’s about the best I could ask for. He hardly says anything but he sure does have the nicest heart I ever did see”. She said half trying to embarrass him. “We don’t eat out much but it’s easy to see someone who ain’t a regular in these parts.”
A waitress at last came to the table the sibling insisted I eat with them. The food was nothing spectacular, but the conversation was excellent. It had been quite a while since I had someone to talk to at length. I didn’t hurt that it was with a drop dead beautiful southern gal. It was nothing deep, which was nice as it helped me to unwind my mind. Did I mention she was pretty? She had a plaid shirt similar to Big Mac’s but more orange than anything else. She had blond hair pulled into a huge pony tail, and a cowgirl hat on, though neither were for show. Light freckles rested below her eyes which were greener than any leaf but more brilliant than any jade stone. We finished and our waitress asked if we’d like any dessert and before I had a chance to say anything Jackie had ordered the three of us apple pie.
"They're the best in Kansas" said Jackie with an apologetic look after the waitress had left. "Well at least they should be anyway, we supple the apples for this whole town."
"Eeyup" Big Mac said with an affirmative tone.
The pie wasn't expensive, so it wasn't a big deal, and it was pretty amazing. We paid and went our separate ways, my spirits and stomach lifted. I walked to my truck enjoying the full moon and replaying the conversation in my head. I stopped as reached for the handle, noticing what was tied from my mirror. One blue and two yellow balloons had been tied to my left mirror. Confused but not concerned I cut them free with my pocket knife. I returned to the motel and walked into my room, becoming aware of how much I ate half way there. I readied myself for sleep without much care for my usual ritual. I was ready for my stomach to stop aching and anxious to get back on the road the next day. I closed my eyes, thoughts still streaming across my mind of the day, and slowly drifted to sleep.
DeviantArt version
I awoke to the gentle rays of sunlight pushing past the edges of the curtains. Something was amiss but my mind wasn’t yet clear enough to discern what it was. I rolled over twice in the next five minutes waiting for the haze of sleep to leave me. I finally sat up and I could finally think, amazing how that works. I checked my watch, I was astonished to see that it 10 o’clock was quickly approaching. I had over slept, and though irritated, knew it could not be changed. I rose and showered, allowing the hot water to give life to my limbs. I finished the rest of my tasks with little interest, dressed and left for breakfast.
I decided to be frugal and just partake of the complementary breakfast the motel had. I suspect that they regretted the policy that day, as I always eat like a beast. I enjoyed the food a great deal but was only able to grab one muffin, due to another guest at the lodge. I didn’t hold it against the blonde headed woman, who was very cross-eyed; I had plenty of other food to enjoy.
I began considering on the walk back to my room, doing my laundry before I left town since I was on my last set of clean everything. “Probably be a good idea” I said aloud as I admired the abstract design of the stone wall, which was riddled with holes of all different sizes. Then suddenly two shoes were on a collision course with my face. Quickly reacting, I avoided the hard rubber by leaning far back but soon discovered a body with a downward trajectory was attached to the shoes. It was unavoidable. The only thing I knew was I on my back and something was on me. I opened my eyes to see a women splayed awkwardly on top of me. She looked just as dazed as I.
She chuckled rolling off me. “Excuse me” laughter still in her tone, “let me help you” she said grabbing my hand pulling me up.
“Did I offend you in some way?” I said still trying to wrap my mind around what had just happened.
“Na, I was just practicing and you were in my way” she said.
“Practicing?” my mind began reeling, “What were you practicing? Dropkick assassinations?”
“Not quite, I was doing some parkour, and you just happened to be on the other side of the wall I was jumping through”.
That made sense. It definitely explained why she was in a more covering form of jogging attire. Her whole outfit matched the same light shade of blue except her shoes, which was a regular blue with yellow laces and a red lightning bolt on the side. Her hair, like seemingly half the other females in this town was, unique. It was short and primarily blond but had many faded highlights throughout of every other color need to make the basic rainbow.
“So do you train professionally or for fun?”
“Neither” she said with a smirk, “I’m gonna be enlisting soon and I wanna be at the top of my game.”
“Awesome, which branch are you going in to?”
Without a second’s hesitation she said the last thing I was expecting. “Navy!” It was one of those moments so befitting a spit-take you wish you had a drink to do it with.
“But you’re in the middle of Kansas!” I said just shy of a shout. The hamster wheel in my brain was threatening to break as my mind impatiently tried to solve the riddle before the answer was spoiled.
“Ya, but I’ll move, besides, I’m going to be the first woman to join the Blue Angels”.
I gave a long “Oh” with the final piece falling in to the puzzle of this… “Uh, I don’t think I caught your name miss…”
“Iris” she said with greet gusto, “Iris Dashner”
“I’ll have to remember that, and hope the next time we, uh, meet you’re a pilot.”
“Sounds good, hey it’s been a blast dude, but I gotta get back to this.” And with that and a wave she was off, jumping over what few obstacles there were.
“We’ll she’s determined, that’s for sure.” Twenty minutes later I saw her napping under a tree.
My encounter with the future pilot hadn’t left without a souvenir. I reached for my hurting back and felt it through a gaping hole in the back of my shirt. “Oh, no” my face paled with the realization, this was my only nice shirt I had packed other than the one that went with my tux, but this was a polo for the rehearsal dinner before it. I needed to buy another shirt, there was no immediate rush and I could have waited for a nicer town but as fortune would have it, I simply didn’t think of that.
I remembered seeing a small trendy looking clothing shop returning from dinner last night. It may not have even been for men but I had to try. I rushed around to the side of the building where my truck was parked. I slide in and began my fluid motion of going from stop and off to rolling and on which I had perfected to a mere two second ordeal. I slide the key into the ignition without even bouncing it around the hole. It turned and my hand was half way to the shifter when it registered.
Click. My hand idled over the knob waiting to throw it down to the D but I couldn’t. I reached slowly again for my key and turned it. Click, click, click. That noise, that simple noise horrified me beyond insanity. Dread fell over me like buckets of water, as I wondered if I would miss my own flesh and blood’s wedding because of a click. This was quickly dismissed though. I was no mechanic, but I knew the basics, and I had a similar if not identical problem not long ago. I pulled the release for my hood and heard the latch loosen itself on the outside. I raised the hood, almost forgetting to prop it before I checked for the problem.
There sat the battery in pristine condition, not at all how I expected it. I gazed all around each of its terminals both negative and positive. They were clean. I expected corrosion to have engulfed one or both but there was none to be found. The click, I thought for sure it was the same that my mother’s car had produced when a corrosion problem occurred but it wasn’t. I was at loss. I closed the hood, and locked the door, reluctantly slide my keys in my pocket, and walked away.
Two things happened back to back. Small things that on any other day would be an inconvenience, but it hit me hard for some reason. Perhaps the distance from home and long drive had worn on me more than I knew. The shirt was nothing, even now, but with a click and clean battery, it felt like a banner of shame. So I walked, I walked down the sidewalk toward the shop where I thought I could at least get a new shirt.
The store I came to was more effeminate than I remembered. I had seen no other business that could serve my needs on my walk so I reluctantly decided to at least go inside. Opening the door rang a bell, but I knew before I took three steps that this was not the store for me. Inside all I saw were dresses, beautiful dresses, but nothing else. I turned to leave but was stopped by probably the most well dressed person in the town.
“Welcome to Carousel Boutique, where… oh my stars!” exclaimed the shocked store owner with an aristocratic tone in her voice. “Darling, whatever happened to your sark?”
“Oh, you mean this hole in my shirt?” I turned back to face her as I put a hand on my exposed back. “It’s a long story but it sums up to me getting attacked by a blue angel”.
“That sounds like Iris’s handy work, well no matter” she said stepping towards me, “I will not let such a crime against fashion go uncorrected”. She grabbed my left wrist in both her hands and began to pull. Unsure of her intent I held my ground.
“What are you doing?”
She looked almost hurt at that. “I’m trying to help you with a new polo, what else would I be doing.”
“But all you have are dresses, and I’m not too big on wearing one of those”.
Her countenance changed to that of self-righteous determination. “My dear, I am a top designer, and if I can make all these wonderful dresses by hand, I’m sure I can make you a new polo”.
I had nothing else to say. Even if I could have thought of something to say, I was smart enough to keep my mouth shut. She had a certain look in her eyes, and I had enough life experiences to know that it’s better to shut up and not ask questions when a lady gets that look. I forfeited my position and followed with no more arguing as she led me, wrist still in her hand. In the back of the store there was a work area littered with manikins adorned by partially completed dresses on all but three. She stopped me in a small clearing away from the near omnipresent scraps on the floor. She continued to a desk where she grabbed a length of measuring tape, and some other instruments and returned.
“Hold out your arms.” She said holding the tape to my chest. It would have been hard to miss that she had eyes like sapphires with her that close. She was probably the prettiest and definitely the best dressed of anyone that I had seen in the whole town. Her hair was jet black and shimmer in the florescent lights so much so that it looked like it was infused with amethyst. It flowed down in a few huge curls past her shoulders. Her skin was almost as pale enough to blend into her dress, which was a whiter than pure pearls.
She took all my measurements in seconds and walked back to her desk to quickly write it down. She put on a pair of cat rimmed reading glasses and with some fabric from a roll, began working at a feverish pace. Her hands moved so fast they seemed to not be touching the needle or cloth. I watched not sure what else to do with myself. She broke the silence before I thought to.
“I can’t believe my manners” she said looking up but not stopping her sewing. “My name is Rosalba” she said walking toward me, only stopping her sowing to delicately extend a hand.
“Oh, um, I’m uh,” mentally kicking myself for fumbling over my own name. “Jaxon” I finally said shaking her hand. She smiled and began walking to a red sewing machine. “That’s an interesting name, I don’t think I’ve hear it before.
“Yes, it’s not too common here in the states” she said. “I was named after one of my antecedents, a great, great grandmother if I’m not mistaken. She was from Spain so I can thank her for more than my namesake,” she said intentionally running her fingers through her hair. “So I must ask, what brought you into my shop, had you heard of my talents?”
“Actually it was the first place I saw, I was going to leave until you grabbed me. Normally I’d have just waited till I was in a town that at least had a Wal-Mart but with my truck suddenly not starting up that wasn’t really an option.”
“Well I’m sorry about your vehicle but it’s good that you saw me, there’s no way” she emphasized that last word, “you would have gotten a replacement even half as nice as the one I’m making you. There we are,” she said after another minute’s work, “all done. Go over there and try it on”. I entered the small closet sized fitting room she had pointed to and began switching shirts. “By the way”, came the sound of Rosalba’s voice as her footsteps grew closer, “I have a friend that works at the library in town, if there’s nothing too seriously wrong with your vehicle I’m sure she can help you find a book on it, or at least get a handle on what you’re dealing with, she’s rather smart you know”.
“That sounds like,” I paused to thinking my next words, “probably the best idea I’ve heard all day”. Stepping out into the lobby again, with the ribbons of my old shirt in hand, I couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship that had gone into my new shirt and marvel at how little time it taken. “This is too amazing; I’m not going to able to afford it”.
“Oh, don’t worry about the price, it’s on me”. I probably looked at her like she was speaking Latin. She noticed, “Well after the ordeal you’ve told me about, I couldn’t possible charge you. Especially not for something I threw together in just ten minutes”.
No one had ever been that generous to me. I didn’t even realize a store owner could be that generous. “Th… thank you,” stumbled out of my mouth, not knowing what else to say.
“It’s no problem my dear, now get over to the library. Head right when you leave, its a little ways down Hay Street. There’s a lot overgrown vegetation on the building so it somewhat resembles a large tree”. I thanked her again several times, and left with surprising optimism heading for the library.
As I walked down Hay Street, I couldn’t help but feel like there was something about this town that tried to make things better, despite the recent bad events. The library was now within sight, but still a good distance away. I could see why Rosalba referred to as a tree, though from afar it did look somewhat like a bush that had grown wildly for many years. I stared at it as I walked; ever more perplexed at how a building could come to obtain such as extremely verdant exterior, I began to notice the most beatific of noises. I looked for the source unsure of its origin but eager to discover it. It seemed to radiate from a small park across the street. I couldn’t resist, I had to know what it was. The melody drew me in like a siren’s song, completely disarmed and mesmerize. It was like a new song you instantly memorize the first time you here it, and then listen to for the next seven straight hours.
As I walked through the park, hypnotically led by my ears, I came to a fountain with a bench on either side of it. There sitting on the bench facing slightly away from me was the most stunningly gorgeous woman I had ever seen. I know I spoke the same way of Rosalba, and all the women I had meet so far were beautiful in their own regard but this one was the first that had left me speechless. She wore very plain Jane clothes, probably to help deter people from gawking at her, but she was pretty none the less.
She had on denim capris, and a soft yellow t-shirt. Her shoes looked like pink knock-off Converse. She worn nothing more than that but had a simple khaki messenger bag with butterfly design on the side, which had a blue body and two pink wings. Her hair was partially pink like Diane’s, but was so faded that it was that it had become a much lighter color and was outshined in some spots by her natural blond hair. It hung down in huge locks that only curled up at the very ends.
Her right hand was about a foot from her face and perch upon it was a bird. I recognized that it was a mockingbird, thanks to their abundance back home, and my grandparents love for them. It must have been young since it looked about half the size of a normal one. When I finally blinked, her seraphic song returned to my ear. I had heard it the whole time but my focus had shifted to her appearance when I saw her. I discovered when I looked closer that the woman was only responsible for half the song. I watched as she sung a simple but angelic tune to the bird and amazingly it sung it back just as she did, note for note. It was as if they were best of friends. I must have stared as if frozen in time for five minutes before she noticed me.
Her eyes darted to me without warning, breaking concentration with the bird. She gasped and recoiled slightly, and her bangs moved forward like curtains being partially closed over a window. She tried to hide her face behind them, and they seemed to close more, as if honoring her wish. All this was enough to scare the bird to take flight. “No,” she pleaded, reaching for it as it flew away, “Please come back!” She looked like she was about to cry.
Needless to say I felt like monster. “I’m sorry!” I said, desperate to apologize. I took a quick step to go over to her. “I was…” I hadn’t realized that I was standing on very loose gravel. My foot slid and for the second time that day I was about crash into ground. I was falling awkwardly sideways but was still able to catch myself. My left hand shot out. Though I could not see where it went to, but it did its job. I felt the dozens of small sharp stones scraping across my palm and fingers as my hand gained traction. It wasn’t a pretty catch, but my torso never touched ground so I knew that my new shirt was at least safe. I was ready to stand back up when the sensation set in.
I lifted my palm to investigate the feeling but didn’t have to look hard. A long, but not deep wound had been craved across the width of my palm. “Ah!” It was not a scream of pain since that sensation had not yet struck, but more of an ‘oh crap’. The blood started rising to the top of the cut to flee my body. Looking down where my hand had slid, I saw the sharp edge of a larger rock embedded in the ground and caressed with some of the blood. Standing, my good hand cradled its injured brother, and I was about to leave the park. I felt I should try to apologize one last time before I left so I turned back around. She was standing two feet from me, which almost made me fall again. She timidly looked like she was about to say something so I waited for it.
“I, uh,” she muttered still hiding behind her bangs. “Here,” she said with the look of an epiphany in what little I could see of her eyes. She opened her messenger bag and pulled out a roll of medical gauze. She gently took my hand and was about wrap when she paused and looked at me, “um, that is, if it’s okay with you”. Slightly dumbfounded, I wondered why she asked if she could help me. I knew there were specific laws for people with medical training but it was still foreign to me to have to give someone permission to help you.
I stared at her for a moment as the thought circulated in my mind a second time. “Um, yes,” I said shaking the stupor from my head, “yes, of course”. She knelt down, shifting her bag in front of her, and began rummaging through it. I knelt down as well and extended my hand slightly. She pulled out a package of antiseptic wipes, and an unopened water bottle. She turned my hand sideway and poured the water over it to wash off the blood that pooled in my hand.
“I thought so,” she said revealing a pair of tweezers she had palmed. She maneuvered the instrument and delicately picked out a piece of gravel within the cut that I hadn’t even seen. Then palming the tweezers again, she placed an antiseptic wipe over the cut and began wrapping it with gauze. My eyes shifted upward, and I couldn’t help but stare at her as she worked. She was even more beautiful than she had appeared from afar. Her face seemed to have a radiant glow about it. She had a hint of confidence in her expression, like she knew she was good at what she was doing. “All done,” she said looking up. She caught me staring and we both blushed, sharing the awkward moment.
“Sorry,” I said turning my head.
“Oh it’s okay, if it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t have cut up your hand,” came her response.
“If it wasn’t for me being a creeper I wouldn’t have scared that bird away,” I said, determined to be in the wrong.
“Oh, that’s fine,” she said, “I have a way animals, they just naturally seem to trust me, which is good because I like to take care of them”. And with that she lifted her left hand into the air and whistled gently. Immediately a new bird flew to her hand and she drew it close. “The other birdies deserve some time too”.
“So, you take care of animals? Is that why you have medical supplies? Are you a vet or something?”
“Sort of, well, you see, I don’t normally need them but it’s good to have them in case I find something that is really hurt badly,” she said, petting the bird ever so softly.
“Like me!” I said laughing. “By the way, I’m Jaxon”.
“Cary-Ann,” she said. “Sorry again for your hand”.
I raised my hand, studying it. “Worth it,” I said looking back to her, “especially with how well you sing”. That only made her blush, and suddenly I felt the time fleeing once again, and the urgency of the ever encroaching deadline. “I should go,” I said standing, “I need to figure out what’s wrong with my truck.”
“Oh, you should see Stella over at the library; she’s really smart about all sorts of things,” she said.
“Thanks, I’ll be sure to check that out,” I said. This girl must’ve been genius to be recommended for help with mechanical problems twice, despite working in a library. I thanked her and left, continuing to the library. I got slightly turned around on the way out of park but only enough to delay me a few minutes. I found the sidewalk again and picked up my pace to get to the library.
It didn’t take long to get there, only about five minutes doing my granny power-walking. The building was a slim two story place, with a green, metal roof. It was a simple building in its basic shape, but the beauty was in the details. The outside walls were made of wood, but were also expertly carved in a way that amplified the wood grain. The vines had only been allowed to grow in certain places and trimmed as if someone was trying to make them look like branches. I realized that Rosalba was right, if ever a building could be made to look like a tree, this was what it would look like.
I opened the front door which was rounded at the top. Inside was the most amazing library I ever saw. Each and every wall was covered by bookcase and they were all stuff full of books. Every bookcase was at least ten feet long and as tall as the ceiling. The floor was natural wood with a carving similar to the outside, except that it made it look like the rings of a tree stump. At the center of the room was a pedestal, with a wood-craved horse head figure atop it. I heard a rustling upstairs and suddenly saw a young girl rushing down the curved staircase.
“Hey! You must be Jaxon, my friends told me you’d be coming over”.
“Um, ya, that’s me”. I was caught off guard by being expected.
“Rosalba called about half an hour ago and gave me a heads up, and I thought you might be a no show, but then I figured out why when I got a text from Cary-Ann. Listen to me, I’m rambling,” she said thumping herself on the head. “My name is Stella; I am the curator and resident of this library. I also understand you’re having truck issues”.
“Yes I am, it won’t crank and I will admit I’m kind of curious as to how you’re going to help me,” I said giving her a once over. She wore a pair of denim jean that was purple instead of the normal blue color. Her shoes were something that I had only discovered myself three months earlier called FiveFingers. The toe-shoes were a near matching color to her pants, and looked like the KomodoSport variety. Her white T-shirt had a picture of an owl with glasses reading a book titled ‘Nerds are cool’. Her hair was shoulder length except for her bangs which were cut just above her eyebrows. The hair itself was a very dark brown except for two streaks in her bangs which were pinkish and deep purple color respectively. It was almost odd to see that little change in her hair after the abundance of color in everyone else’s hair.
“Well, I probably couldn’t help you, but I do have a book here on just about everything under the sun. I know I have one that can help you; I just can’t find it at the moment”.
“Well let’s get looking then,” I said.
“It’ll take a while if we try to find it ourselves but if we’re patient…” I heard the door behind me. I turned to see a small boy with lime green hair rush past me. “Ah, Spike! Right on time,” she said knelling down to hug him. “Can you go find me that one book on how trucks work?” He popped from her arms and eagerly ran for a bookcase across the room. She looked at me. “He likes for me to call him that, makes him feel tough. His real name is Barry which actual means spear, so it the nickname does fit, but that’d fly over his head.”
I watched the child drag a ladder over to the bookcase, and tilted my head when I turn back to Stella. Turns out she was good at reading body language. “He’s my little step brother, but I’m he has left now. He’s a brilliant little boy, he already knows how to read and write a lot. He starts kindergarten next year and will probably wind up skipping a few grades”. Her pride showed in more than her smile. “He’s memorized where about half the books in here are”. Spike slide down the ladder and rushed to Stella.
“Is this the one you were talking about?” he said.
“Yes, it is,” she said in a sing-song tone, “thank you my number one assistant”. He grinned so big at those words, you’d think it wrapped around to the back of his head. “Now I’ll make you a deal, there are some doughnuts,” Spikes eyes grew at that word, “in the fridge; you can have one if you go clean your room, who knows, there might even be one with extra sprinkles”. Spike ran for the stairs as fast as he could. “Hold the rail,” Stella shouted after to him.
“Nice kid,” I said. We walk to a table on the side of the room. She opened the book to the section on trouble with starting the vehicle. We both skimmed the pages looking for a likely answer.
“Here’s something, did you check for any type of corrosion on the battery?”
“That was the first thing I looked for, and I’m not seeing anything else in this that fits”.
She looked up from the book. “You’re sure your battery isn’t just dead, right?”
I paused a long moment. “I’m not sure,” I said at last. “It’s very possible actually. I used the key instead of the beeper to unlock it”. I thought hard as to how the battery may have died. “I may not have closed the door all the way. If that happened then the cab light would have never shut off”.
“Do you think that’s what killed you battery?”
“Well we don’t know for sure that the battery is dead, I’m just saying I was pretty tired list night so I may not have realized it if I didn’t shut it all the way”.
“Don’t you think it’s at least worth checking out?”
I glanced back at the book. “Ya, probably a good idea”.
“Then let’s get going!” She turned to the stairs, “Spike, come here we need to go out for a little bit”.
“I’m almost done!” came the frantic response.
“You can finish cleaning when you get back,” she hollered to him.
“But I wanted the doughnut!”
“It’ll be here when we get back! Come on, maybe we can stop by Rosalba’s while we’re out”. The sound of plastic toys dropping to the floor was soon replaced with that of Spike thundering down the stairs.
The child stopped in front of Stella panting, “Okay, I’m ready, to go to Rosalba’s”.
“Maybe on the way back, but for now we need to help this man with his truck,” she said rubbing his head. “Let me see if I can’t get us a ride over there real quick”. She grabbed her smart phone from her back pocket and began to make a call as she walked toward the door, waving us to follow with her free hand. “Jackie, it’s Stella. Hey, can we get a lift the motel? I’m trying to help a tourist with car trouble. What? Ya, actually he is. That’s neat; bet he wasn’t expecting to see you again. Sounds great I’ll see you then”. She hung up, “Good news boys, we got a ride, should be here in about ten minutes, and it may be someone you know Jaxon”.
“That’d be cool but until they get here there’s no way to be sure,” I said. I was happy that something was finally going my way. “We’ll just have to wait to find out”.