It All Started When My Dad Ditched the Car
I wake up and groggily stretch. The sun is streaming through a crack in my curtained window, attempting to blind me. I roll over so that I can look at the clock. 9:06 am.
Holy crap! I'm late for work! I jump out of bed and run to the bathroom. I look in the mirror. Oh my gosh, I am a total and complete mess. My brown hair, which is usually a mess anyways, is sticking out in every possible direction. The one (main) problem with long hair: it takes forever to brush. I pick up my brush and attempt to run it through my hair, but it gets caught on about thirty tangles. I give up after about five seconds and just pile it in a messy bun on top of my head. It will have to do. I quickly brush my teeth and pull on a tank top and jeans. I grab a button up, cheese Danish, and my book as I race out the door, yelling a farewell to my dad, who I think is in the apartment somewhere.
My dad and I lived in a small apartment in Arbington. Our place isn't right in the middle of the city, in fact it is in the outskirts, but it is very expensive. When my dad was younger he had invented something or other and made a bunch of money off of it, but there ended up being some issue with the patent process, so there was a law scuffle and, long story short, my dad is a struggling inventor. We have some money in savings from before, but we struggle to pay rent every month. Just about all my pay goes towards groceries so that dad can pay for our apartment with his part time job at where ever the heck he works.
Anyways, we live in the big city, but I work in a small town about a ten minute ride on the metro, seeing as it is such a small town the metro stop is actually a little ways outside of the town, but it isn't a long walk. The town is called Parizh (pronounced like Paris) and there are only about a hundred and fifty inhabitants. I love it, it's so quaint! Once I'm eighteen, I'm going to get my own apartment there, at least I want to. If I can move out of the apartment, then my dad can get a smaller place that isn't so expensive.
I will be eighteen on my next birthday, which is only a few weeks away,, and I’ll finally be an adult! I can't wait. I start jogging down the street and pull on my button-up over my tank top as I jog and bite in to my danish. Amazing!
I run down the stairs to the metro and swipe my card to get in. I run to the loading area and barely make it through the doors as they close. There aren't any seats available, since it is rush hour, so I grab onto the bar and shove the remains of my danish into my mouth. I put my book between my knees and button up my shirt. I look at my watch. Quarter after nine. I am sooo late because my shift started fifteen minutes ago! The metro comes to a stop and I squeeze through the crowd of people to the door.
I'm practically the only person getting off, but there are at least a dozen people boarding. I run up the escalator and down the street, nearly plowing over a little kid doing hop scotch on the sidewalk.
"Sorry!" I cry, mouth full of danish as I continue running. I burst into the door of The Bookshop of Parizh out of breath and sweaty. The bell above the door jangles loudly and Patricia looks up from the counter.
"You're twenty minutes late again, Annabelle," Patricia says, raising a single eyebrow. Miss. Patricia has shoulder length blonde hair and gorgeous hazel eyes (I wish I had eyes like hers, mine are just a boring brown). She is in her mid-forties and still absolutely stunning.
I give a sheepish smile, "My alarm didn't go off again, Miss Pat."
Miss Pat scoffs, "Again? You need to get a new alarm, Annabelle. This is the third time this week."
I walk up to the counter and set my book down, "I know, I know. I just haven't gotten the chance. Any business yet?" I say, attempting to change the subject.
Miss Pat gives me a look, but she lets it fly, "Not yet. We got a new shipment of books though. It's in the back."
I pick my book back up and start for the back room. It's my job to alphabetize the new books whenever we get a shipment.
"Why don't you do the inventory of the new books while you're back there!" Patricia yells after me.
I open the door to the back room and smile. The back room is one of my favorite places in the entire world. Not that I'd really been anywhere other than Arbington. I'd been on all the mandatory school trips around the city, but other than that, I stayed at home with my books, which were infinitely nicer than any of the people at school. The back room is small, with a worn wood floor and bright yellow walls. There is a lounge chair in one corner and a pile of used books in another. Three of the four walls are lined with shelves which are filled with both old and new books. Some of the books are books that never sold in the store, and some of them are used books that are too worn to resell. The remaining wall, which is usually empty, is reserved for new shipments. There are a dozen boxes sitting over there now, just waiting to be opened. I set my own book down on the lounge chair and open the first box.
Adult romance. Yuck, too cheesy. I sort out all the books in the adult romance box in alphabetical order, by author last name, writing down the book names and author as I work. I move onto the next box, this one is full of nonfiction books about weird stuff, such as tree bark or caterpillar poop. Talk about boring.
Three boxes of mystery books, kid books, and graphic novels later, I find my favorite genre of books, young adult fantasy. I pull out the first book, some weird book called The Portal to the World of Awesome Farting Unicorns: A Guide. I put that one back in the box and pull out the next, and the next, and the next. Boring, boring, boring, and boring. I pulled out the next book, Beauty and the Beast! One of my favorites! It is obviously in the wrong box. I hold it to my chest, looking at the remaining boxes and thinking about all the inventory I still have to do... The bookstore closes at five... I should have time to read the book and do the inventory.
Taking Beauty and the Beast, I go over and sit in the lounge chair. I curl up in a position that looks very uncomfortable but is actually very cozy, and begin to read.
There was once a merchant who had been very rich at one time, but who, having had heavy losses, was compelled to retire to a little cottage in the country; where he lived with his three daughters. The two elder ones were very much discontented at their poverty, and were always grumbling and making complaints. But the youngest one, who was called Beauty, and who was always amiable as she was handsome, tried all she could to comfort her father and make his home happy.
* * * * *
"Annabelle!" Miss. Pat's voice jolts me out of my book.
"Yes, ma'am?" I asked, glancing down at the page number so I won't lose my place.
"Just what are you doing?" She demands, standing in the doorway to the back room.
"Uhmm, reading?" I say setting my book down
"Have you added all of the new books to the inventory and alphabetized them?"
"No, ma'am." I say sheepishly.
"Then why, my dear girl, are you reading?"
"Because I figured I would still have enough time to read and do all that." I say, trying to explain/defend myself.
"Is that so? Well it's closing time, so it seems you didn't. I expect you to do the inventory before you leave. You don't have to alphabetize though, I can do that in the morning." Miss. Pat turns around and leaves the back room, letting out a heavy sigh.
I look dejectedly at the inventory list and get to work.
* * * * *
Three and a half hours later I am finally locking up the bookstore. I sigh, another long day of work done. I hop on the next metro and get off at my stop. I walk up to my house and knock twice on the door, and, without waiting for an answer, I open the door, I do live here, after all.
"Dad?" I call, "Dad? I'm home!"
No one answers. I close the door behind me and lock it, "Dad? Are you here?" I flick on the living room and kitchen lights, "Dad?" I call nervously. There still isn't an answer.
I quietly walk around the apartment, turning on lights as I go, "Is anyone here?" After going through the whole house and finding nothing, I go to the kitchen and open the fridge; he probably went out to get groceries or something. I pull a loaf of bread and a thing of jam out of the fridge. I open the pantry and pull out a can of peanut butter and see a note from my dad taped to the top of the peanut butter.
Belle,
I'm going to an inventor’s convention for a few days. I love you. See you soon.
Dad
P.S. Help yourself to the ice cream in the freezer.
Typical dad. Leaving town on short notice to go to the most random things. I hope he isn't driving there; he's a horrible driver and he's terrible with directions. I mean, he could seriously get lost if he walked a block away from our apartment.
I make my PB&J and sit down on the couch. Turning the TV on, I switch to the news. There are stories about the drastically increasing crime statistics and lack of jobs and blah blah blah, it is all the same as usual. I finish my sandwich and switch off the news. I lay my head back against the wall. It's 9:30 now. I don't want to go to bed, but I don't really have much of a choice. I am going to fall asleep soon whether I move to my bed or not. I slowly stand up, and fall right back onto the couch. I groan loudly and stand up again. Leaning on the wall, I walk to my room. I change into a big t-shirt and pajama pants and crawl into my bed, turning off my lights. I take my hair down as I settle into my cozy blankets.
Just as I start to fall asleep, my cell phone starts ringing! I groan and turn my light back on. I pick up my cell phone, the screen is dark. That means that it is the home phone. And that means I have to get up to get it. And that requires getting out of bed. Ugh, whoever it is better have a good reason for calling. I push my covers back and roll out of bed. I walk out of my room and grab the home phone off of the kitchen wall.
"Hello?" I answer grouchily.
"Belle! Baby!" My dad replies cheerily
"Oh my goodness! Dad!" My anger immediately dissipates at the sound of his voice, "Are you okay?"
"Oh, I'm fine. Okay, sweetheart, I need you to stay calm, I took a wrong turn onto this guy's property and I kinda accidentally broke in--"
I interrupt him, "What?! Why- How do you accidentally break in to someone's house, Dad?" I'm practically shouting at him; I wouldn't be surprised if one of the neighbors came knocking at the door.
"I'll explain it all later, as of now, I kinda need someone to come and pick me up." He replies calmly.
"Can't you drive back?"
"Car's outta gas and I ditched it, quite literally, a ways back."
"What?! You crashed the car?!" I stop, I can yell at him about that later, right now I just need to get him home, "I'll see if mom can go out and pick you up." I say.
My mom and dad have been divorced for a while, and they don't really talk to each other. My mom lives a couple miles away from my dad's house and I visit her occasionally, but I never stay with her, we just don't get along really well. But right now, she was the only way to get him home, since he had taken the only car.
"No! No no no no no, no! N. O. You will not be calling your mother." My dad said hurriedly.
I sigh, "Okay, just tell me where you are and I'll borrow Annie's car and come and get you." I say: Annie was my best, and only, friend.
"Okay, grab a pen and paper." My dad says, obviously relieved. I grab a takeout menu for a Chinese restaurant off of the fridge and a pen from the junk drawer and get ready to write down where my dad is, "Ready." I say once I have situated the phone on my shoulder so that both my hands are free.
"Okay, well I went down our street, and turned right, and then left and then right again. And I kept driving and was in woods, and I kept driving straight and then the car ran out of gas, so I got out tried to push it, but I pushed it into a ditch, so I started walking, following the road, which is dirt, by the by, and I came across this huge house, and it started drizzling, so I went to the door and knocked and rang the doorbell, but there was no answer, so I tried the door and it opened, but you don't need to know about that. Anyways, I'm in a huge house in the woods." My dad said.
I look at the directions my dad had given me, they hardly made sense, "Okay, dad, you'll be rescued soon." I hang up the phone and dial my mom's number.
"Hello?" My mom answers.
"Hey. mom, it's Annabelle. Dad is lost and has no gas in the car and needs someone to pick him up." I say. I don't need to mention the part about him crashing our only means of transportation aside from the metro.
My mom sighs knowingly, "Where is he?"
"If you could come over here real quick I can give you the directions he gave me, but he's in a big house in the woods somewhere."
"I'll be right over." My mom hangs up.
Dad may never forgive me, but getting him home will be worth it, right? I sit on the couch for about two seconds before I have to get up again to answer the door. My mom is there. She has shoulder length blonde hair, she dyes it quite often, her natural hair color is more strawberry blonde, and she has brown eyes. She is always wearing designer clothes, at least ten layers of makeup, and heels, so, not only is she better dressed than me, but she stands a few inches taller than me.
"Directions?" My mom asks, a barely disguised annoyed tone in her voice.
I pull the menu out of my back pocket and hand it to her, "That's what he told me, word for word." I say as she scans it.
"It's hardly anything to go on," she says rolling her eyes, "But I'll find him." With that she turns and walks away, getting in her fancy, expensive car and driving off. I close the door and sit on the couch, staring at a blank TV. All that is left to do now is wait.
Or I could watch TV. TV seems like a better option. I switch on the TV and let my eyes glaze over as I watch whatever sit com is on.
