A Taste of Silver Read online

  A Taste of

  Silver

  S. B. Roozenboom

  Copyright © 2012 S. B. Roozenboom All rights reserved To my mother, for her undying love and fierce support. You encouraged me to keep believing in my writing when I lost hope. You are my inspiration and my best friend. I love you.

  To my dad, for supporting me these last nineteen years—and for passing along your determination to me. Without it, I might never be this far at such a young age. I love you, too. To my amazing English teachers at OCHS, who introduced me to the publishing industry and offered encouragement, and to the staff at KidPub Press who brought my first dream to life.

  Thank you so much!

  Lastly, to my girlfriends who first read A Taste of Silver and told me I had to keep writing. You guys rock!

  Contents

  1) Hair-Boggled Friday ........................... 1

  2) Three Customers ............................. 11

  3) Disappointments ............................. 21

  4) New Employee............................... 27

  5) Foe Or Felon ................................ 37

  6) Complications . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45

  7) Cell Phone Wars. ............................. 55

  8) Bizarre . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61

  9) Encounter .................................. 69

  10) Shadows................................... 79

  11) Surprise ................................... 85

  12) Predator................................... 93

  13) The Viper And Vixen........................ 103

  14) Surreal ...................................117

  15) Feelings .................................. 133

  16) Traits .................................... 145

  17) FADE ...................................161

  18) Wedding Shower ........................... 173

  19) Sorry .................................... 185

  20) Cadell Tright ..............................191

  21) Gone .................................... 201

  22) Heartache ................................ 215

  23) Words Of Wisdom.......................... 227

  24) Intruder.................................. 241

  A Taste of

  Silver

  Every cloud has its silver lining but it is sometimes a little difficult to get it to the mint. —Don Marquis

  1) Hair-Boggled Friday

  “S

  on of a beached whale!” I hissed. This was unbelievable. Of all the stupid, ridiculous things I’d done in my life, this just about took the cake. Nooo, wait. This took the bakery. In fact, this ridiculous thing could easily make our high school newspaper’s front page by Monday if I wasn’t careful.

  My hair (we’re talking beautiful, thick long hair that has been nurtured for four years, been spoiled with expensive shampoos, and avoided harsh but tempting hair-coloring) was stuck. And not just stuck anywhere, I might add. Oh, no. At some point within the first thirty seconds I’d sat down, it had decided to jam itself in an oval-shaped, highly expensive, gold-plated—

  Toilet seat.

  Yes. Unfortunately, that was its proper term. A toilet seat. Of all the seats in the world, it had to be that kind! But it gets worse. It would be one thing if this oval-shaped, highly expensive, gold-plated toilet seat resided in my bathroom at home, or even in a friend’s bathroom. Heck, I didn’t even care if it was some fancy schoolteacher’s restroom. But no.

  This one just had to reside in the bathroom belonging to the most popular guy in St. Arthur High School.

  A growl escaped my throat as I sat there. I was so mad, so humiliated. If Trent came upstairs—or anyone else for that matter—and had to use the bathroom… No. I couldn’t even think about it. It was unbearable knowing they would either:

  A) Find the bathroom was still occupied and had been so for the last twenty minutes since I’d discovered this little “snag”. Or

  B) Find a nice seat-warming gift, compliments from my head, waiting for them.

  “God forsaken toilet seat.” I yanked at my snarled locks once more in attempts to loosen it. What was it hooked on anyway? There couldn’t have been that many things for it to get stuck in, could there?

  My head dropped to my hands. I hated my life… No, that was a lie for the most part, but if anyone found me like this I just might consider. I took a deep breath. Okay. There had to be a solution to this. There was always a solution. Let’s not panic, shall we?

  “No,” I said aloud. It was more assuring out loud. “I’m not panicking. I’m not.” I was perfectly fine. Fine as twine. But I needed to get help. Yes. I couldn’t even see what I was up against behind me. Need help.

  Cautiously turning my head, I glanced sideways. My purse leaned against the sink, slumped to one side in a pose that was almost mocking. If it could’ve laughed at me, I had few doubts it would’ve.

  Oh, boy, I thought with a frown. It looked awfully far away. Still, I made a reach for it, stretching my fingers far as they could go. One fingernail had just grazed a strap when my hair jerked me back. I was like a pony on a lead rope. Why? Why of all places had I set it by the sink?

  “Ugh, come on.” I was close. So close I had to make another reach. Why had Trent’s parents modeled the sink so far away from the pot? Closer. Closer. Just a little further and—

  Got it!

  “Yes!” I squealed, but at the same time my finger twitched before a good hold was established. The strap dropped back to the ground, out of reach. I sat there hissing and spitting and bouncing up and down. Of all the bloody, blinking disasters! Was tonight going to get any worse? Don’t think about that, Rose. I was one of those people who karma visited frequently; if I pondered things getting worse, they surely would.

  When I finally managed to settle down, a thought hit me. My eyes bulged as the light bulb flashed over my head. I had—I couldn’t believe it—a solution! Lifting my torso up, both hands balanced on the sides of the seat, I extended one bronzed leg out to the side. “Come on,” I begged, like it was listening to me. My foot was almost there. Work with me here, you heap of leather! With a bend of the ankle, I scooped up the strap with my heel. “Yes!” A fast jerk and the bag was at my side. “Oh, yes, come to mamma!” My fingers dug into the front pocket, running over a cool solid plate. Whipping out my strawberry-pink slider, my fingers dialed the number—the one I was counting on to get me out of this. My heart pounded as the phone rang… and rang… and rang some more. What was taking her so long? My stiletto would be used as a club over her head if she didn’t pick up.

  “Hello?” A feminine voice finally answered.

  “Chanel! Ugh, where are you?!”

  “Rose, you sound—is everything—you ok?” Parts of her sentence were missing thanks to the obnoxious music in the background.

  “No, I’m not ok!” I bellowed, then softened my tone. Voices from some of the football players echoed outside the door. “Listen, come upstairs. I’m in the bathroom. We have a serious situation!”

  “Oh no! I’m sorry but—it fair—warn you—out of monthly supplies!”

  “Oh my—that’s not the problem!” How she had the guts to say such a thing while we were here, in this house, I had no clue. “It’s not that kind of situation! It’s my hair! It’s stuck!”

  “Your hair’s stuck?” She sounded like I’d told her unicorns were dancing on the windowsill. “In what?”

  “I don’t know! Will you just come upstairs?”

  “Alright I—coming—don’t have—hissy!”

  I slammed the phone shut. Of all the ni
ghts to embarrass myself, I would’ve given anything for it to not be this night. Not here. I didn’t even want to be here. Parties with drunken punks and jocks who were getting it on with the preps next door over just weren’t my scene.

  I smoothed my dress down over my thighs, sitting on the edge of the bowl. How our parents would kill us if they knew Chanel and I really weren’t at her house studying for the history test Monday. Well, hers would at least, but for the last year now I’d learned Chanel was acing the art of covering-your-tracks. She hadn’t been caught… yet.

  It felt like a forever before there was a knock on the door. “Rose?” she called. “Hey, you in there?”

  “Yeah. It’s unlocked. Open the door.”

  The knob turned and in came the slender, Asian American girl who’d ruined my peaceful evening. She froze as she saw me, chocolate eyes widening. “Oh my God, what happened?”

  “Will you shut the door before someone sees me?!”

  “Oh! Sorry.” She quickly shut and bolted the bathroom door that she’d left hanging wide open, then rushed over to investigate. “Holy mamma. How did you do this? Man, it’s jammed in there really good!”

  “That’s what I told you!” I was getting antsy as she wasted time tugging on my locks. Didn’t she think I’d tried that already? “What’s it stuck on anyway?”

  She hesitated, then let out a giggle. “I don’t know how you managed to do this, but it’s wrapped around the little piece that connects the seat to the toilet bowl! Ha, ha, ha!”

  “Wonderful.”

  “What do you want me to do? It won’t come out!” She pulled again—harder.

  I winced. “Ouch! Ugh, I don’t know! Do anything!”

  She was in the middle of prying at the knot’s source when someone rapped on the door. The handle jiggled. “Hey!” A masculine voice shouted. “What’s the hold up in there?!”

  Chanel and I froze. “Oh my God, it’s Derek!” she squeaked.

  “Oh, God. Of all the freaking people!” I covered my face.

  Derek Harland was the jock who appreciated jokes and pranks more than his Sports Illustrated magazines. He was the guy who would’ve taped your eyelids open while you were sleeping and sent a picture of it to everyone he had a number or address for… If he saw my hair stuck in the back of Trent’s toilet, he’d make sure I was in our school’s newspaper Monday.

  “Yo! I gotta piss out here!” He laughed, then banged on the door. “Let me in!”

  Loud guffaws filled the air. It was the noise a gathering of moneys made, but instinct said Trent wouldn’t let his house turn into Wild Kingdom—not that kind, at least. I forgot Derek’s trio rarely left his side.

  Chanel was now hopping up and down. She threw me a frantic look, knowing we were about to put a black mark on our reputations if we didn’t come up with something fast. “What are we gonna do?!”

  “I—I don’t know!” I looked left and right, like the answer was somewhere on the floor. “Just wait! Maybe they’ll leave.”

  Derek called, “I’m waaaaaiting!”

  Chanel stamped her foot. Swallowing hard, I glanced at the fancy oak vanity. “Look in the drawers! See if there’s something we could loosen the knot with!”

  “Oh!” She leapt for the gold knobs under the sink, burrowing through the first two like a mole. No luck. I was about to suggest raiding the shower for conditioner when she froze.

  “What?” I demanded. “Did you find something?”

  She answered by pulling out a pair of scissors from the third drawer.

  I gasped. “Chanel, you wouldn’t!”

  “Rose, come on,” she begged. “Come on they’re waiting! I’ll have Christy fix it or something when we get home! Rose, please?”

  The scissors stared at me, shiny, sharp, strong enough to slice cardboard. No, strong enough to shred tough pork over the barbeque. “No. No, no, no I worked too long and too hard! I did not go through all that work just to have it jammed in Trent’s toilet seat and cut off and—”

  “I’m coming IN!” Derek declared, jiggling the handle to the point where it should’ve come off the door. “One… two… you’ve got ten seconds!”

  My adrenaline was on full flow. We had a bully getting ready to break the door down, an Asian Barbie jumping up and down like a rabbit, and me the dumb blonde with bad karma. What would I regret more: bruising my rep or losing precious inches of hair?

  A whimper left my throat. Growing hair back was one thing, but a bruised rep stays with you for life. With all due reluctance, I said, “Ok, just do it! Quick!”

  “Thank you!” Chanel rushed forward, scissors clamped between her fingers. “I’ll take as little off as I can! I promise!”

  Even though I couldn’t see her cutting my hair, I still squeezed my eyes shut. The blades pulled, then crunched over the caramel waves. If this wasn’t a moment of panic, I would’ve shed a tear for the lost follicles. They’d handled the curling iron and straightener so obediently these last few years… I didn’t even want to think about how hard Derek was going to laugh when he saw the gift I was leaving him. This party was history the second we set foot outside.

  The last strand was cut and I jerked my head up, getting whiplash.

  “Oh my God!” Chanel covered her mouth to stifle a hyena laugh. “Holy smokes! We gotta get out of here.”

  I swiveled around. “Oh my goodness.”

  It looked like someone had sewn a mini squirrel around the hinge of the toilet seat! I hadn’t lost as much hair as I thought, but it was still too much in my opinion. Chanel was nearly wetting herself as she put the scissors back.

  “Eight… Nine…” Derek was still counting.

  I jumped up and threw my bag over my shoulder. I’d grieve for my lost hair later. “Chanel, let’s get out of here!”

  Grabbing her wrist, I dashed for the door, not bothering to look in the mirror and check how bad a cutting job she’d done. Just as Derek was about to call his final number, we threw the door open and bowled right through—Chanel still laughing.

  Both floors of Trent’s house were packed with teenagers and college newbies. A disco ball hung from the ceiling, revolving over the massive living room as the stereo played tunes loud enough to blow an eardrum. I aimed towards the stairs, stepping over a nice spill in the carpet. It smelled like alcohol.

  “Wait! Wait I have to say goodbye to Trent!” Chanel cried when she noticed we were moving towards the back door.

  “Oh for God sake, Chanel! You can slobber over your Zac Efron wannabe on Monday!”

  “It’ll be just a minute. He’s probably still in the kitchen!” She swiveled around desperately, trying to catch a glimpse of him.

  “No, Chanel, we are leaving!” I emphasized the word leaving as I imagined— or maybe I really heard—Derek and his groupies howling from the second floor.

  She whined and made sniffling sounds. They did her about as much use as sunglasses in the dark. Crossing the well-kept yard, I dragged her onto the side of the road where the silver Volkswagen was parked. It sat unharmed, thank God, all windows intact and no new scratches. However, there was a trail of vomit just inches from the front tires. My nose wrinkled in disgust. Greetings from someone who’d probably drank too much.

  “I can’t believe this night,” I sneered, fussing with the seatbelt. “I am never letting you talk me into another party. Ever.”

  “Oh come on.” Chanel jumped in the driver’s seat, starting the engine. “You were enjoying yourself until that little incident.”

  She earned my incredulous stare. “No I wasn’t! Who can possibly enjoy themselves when there’s so much cigarette smoke you can’t breathe, half the drinks are spiked, and people are making out right in clear view?!”

  “Ok, ok, I’m sorry! I’m sorry I made you go!” She sighed in surrender. Once we were on the road, she added dreamily, “But Trent did look cute tonight. Didn’t he?”

  “Chanel, if Trent is the only thing you ever think about, I’m going to tell you your
world is very small and hollow.”

  “Hey, I didn’t insult you when all you talked about was Scott Border for two months straight. Cut me a little slack!”

  Touché. I didn’t reply. Of course, when Scott came up I tended to go silent (we really hadn’t been meant for each other). Instead, my focus went to the passing mansions as we headed to the gates of Kensington Estates. Barely seconds after the guard let us by, I heard Chanel’s cell phone ringing.

  Her face drained of color. “Oh, God! Rose, help! It’s probably my mom!”

  My pulse quickened. Uh oh. “What do you want me to do about it?”

  “Pick it up!”

  “And what am I supposed to say?”

  “Say I’m driving! Tell her we went to pick up snacks and take a break from studying!”

  My jaw dropped. “I’m not gonna lie to your mom!”

  “Just, pick it up!”

  “Ugh.” Reaching under her legs, I snatched up her Guess purse. The inside seemed to go on forever, her little cell swallowed by a far corner with lip gloss bottles surrounding it. I held my breath as I plucked it out, glimpsing the caller ID. “Oh. It’s just Chris.”

  Chanel’s tight shoulders dropped. “Oh, phew!”

  I flipped the phone open. “Hello?”

  “Uh, Nelly? Is that you?” Christy’s petite voice was confused.

  “Hi, Christy. No, it’s Rose.”

  “Oh! Hey, Rose. Where’s Nelly?”

  “Right here. She’s, uh…” We glanced at each other. “Driving.”

  There was a long pause. “Oh. So, I suppose she’s just taking you guys to the store or something, right?”

  “… Um.”

  Christy might’ve acted like a ditzy valley girl at times, but she was far from dumb and even her Asian accent, while thicker than her sister’s, didn’t hide her suspicion. When it came to Chanel, Christy was practically a mind-reader; she knew everything without asking.

  My mind blanked, losing all legit answers. “Here, uh, I’ll let you talk to her.”