That must mean something.
“Hey,” Callie says as I ride up. She looks hot as hell in faded jeans and a thin, soft pink sweater. She’s got a rocking body, but it’s the way her eyes sparkle that really draws me in.
“Hey,” I return, suddenly feeling tongue-tied.
“You ready to go?”
“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it. Sorry I couldn’t drive. Mom and Dad haven’t been able to take off work for me to take my driver’s test.”
“It’s not a big thing,” she says.
Maybe it’s my imagination, but I can tell she’s avoiding looking in my eyes. Is she nervous? Or doesn’t like the fact that I can’t drive? Hell, maybe I’m projecting my own feelings on her.
“Still, I’m sorry. I guess no girl wants to be seen with a guy who can’t even drive to take her out.”
We’re standing on opposite sides of the station wagon, looking at each other over the top of it. I see surprise on her face, and she smiles at me. Again, I’m struck by how beautiful her eyes are.
“I think any girl would love to be seen with you, Reed.”
“Including yourself?” I can’t help but ask.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yeah,” I tell her, grinning.
“The only question I have is if you’re going to hate being seen in Mildred.”
“Mildred?” I question, my brow furrowing in confusion.
“Dad’s old station wagon,” she laughs. “I guess most guys don’t want to be seen in a beat-up station wagon that can be as cantankerous as a wet cat.”
I laugh, giving her a grin. “Well, I’m not most guys and as long as you’re with me, I don’t care what we’re riding in.”
“I’ll remind you that you said that, Reed Lane,” she jokes, hopping in the car. I do, too, suddenly feeling better about everything.
And then I get a look at the inside of Mildred. The dashboard is dark brown to match the car, but the vinyl has long since given way. Someone has used gray duct tape to try and hide the cracks, or maybe hold the dash together—it’s hard to tell. The seats seem to be having the same issue, but I can’t be sure because it has a seat cover on it. Of course, the seat cover looks like a rainbow puked on it.
“Wow,” I laugh.
“Mildred is special,” Callie says, looking at me cautiously.
“Just like her driver,” I murmur, and shock moves over her face, and slowly she relaxes.
“I hope not. I’d like to think I don’t need duct tape to hold me together.”
“Trust me on this, Callie. You don’t need anything to improve. You are already rocking perfection.”
“You’re smooth with a line, Reed Lane.”
“What makes you think it’s a line?”
She doesn’t respond but gives me a smile that I swear I can feel all the way to my toes. She turns the key in the ignition and surprisingly, Mildred starts right up. Loudly.
“She purrs like a kitten,” I holler over the loud noise of the motor.
“If you mean an angry tiger, sure,” she responds. “The muffler and exhaust system are shot. I need to get it fixed, but whatever I do to Mildred, I’m on my own.”
“That can be expensive,” I agree.
“Yeah. I figure once I get settled, I’ll find a part time job. I just wanted to get enrolled in school and see how hard my schedule was first.”
“What made you move out this way?”
“Mom has some health issues. The doctor said a warmer climate might help.”
“That’s rough.”
“Yeah,” she says so quietly that I can’t hear the words. I can only guess by the movement of her mouth. Yet, even though she’s staring at the road, I can see the sadness that washes over her face.
“Hey, smile, Bluebird. You’re going to have fun tonight. I’m going to see to it.”
“Bluebird?” she laughs.
“Your eyes, they’re beautiful, Callie. They remind me of the color of a male bluebird.”
“Are you a poet, Reed Lane?” she jokes, turning back to watch the road.
“Maybe I am,” I shrug. I have the strangest urge to tell her about the songs I write. I haven’t told anyone, really. The only people that know I can even play the guitar are family and my best friend Jake.
Dad couldn’t care less about me or anything I do. Mom’s cool, but she’s quiet and mostly lets Dad and Mitch talk over her. Mitch and Dad are just alike. Most of the time, I think they both hate me. Then again, I think Dad hates everyone. It’s not like he’s any nicer to Mitch. Mom swears he loves us all. The problem with that is my dad seems to dole out his love with fists.
I see the same anger in Mitch. I remember when I was little, I used to idolize my brother. That seems like ages ago and now all we seem to do is yell, fight and…compete.
“You’re going to have to give me directions,” Callie says and pulls me out of my thoughts.
“You got it,” I tell her and then decide to keep my thoughts on Callie and the night before me.
5 Callie
It’s a great party. Reed is definitely fun. He’s hot in a nice guy kind of way. He’s funny and he makes me laugh. He’s been very attentive, too. For a girl that doesn’t get that at home, it’s like heaven.
“You going to dance with me, Bluebird?”
I look up to see Reed standing over me. I’m sitting on a blanket close to the bonfire. There’s music playing through a portable stereo on some guy’s tailgate. Beer and probably harder stuff are freely flowing. I have no idea how they got it all, since everyone I’ve seen is my age or younger, but who knows. I’m starting to think I lived a sheltered life back home.
“Sure, if you stop calling me Bluebird,” I laugh, reaching out my hand to him. He pulls me up and I stumble on the rocky dirt and into his arms.
“What’s wrong with bluebirds? They’re beautiful,” he says pulling me out onto the level ground. There are a few other people dancing, so it’s not like we’re the only ones. Yet, when he puts his arms around me and pulls me into his body…
I swear, it feels like we’re the only ones.
He might be younger than me, but that’s starting to mean less and less. I mean, Jesus, there’s barely a difference. Besides, it doesn’t mean anything. He’s sweet and good looking and I really like him. I seem to like him more the more time I spend with him.
“They crap on stuff, they have feathers and they never let anyone get close to them,” I point out, looking up into his eyes. It’s dark, looking into them, with the light of the fire reflecting back at me, might be one of the most beautiful things I’ve seen.
“I take it you’re not a nature girl, Callie Street.”
“I find beauty in it, just not birds in particular,” I mumble.
“Okay, well how about in Native American culture, bluebirds represent prosperity and rebirth,” he murmurs close to my ear, holding me close. “They see bluebirds as a sign of happiness and joy.”
I pull back to look at him, shaking my head slightly, glad that he can’t see me blush. “Since you barely know me, I don’t think you can pin that on me.”