1. Chase #2
Mom’s always made the best desserts. She’s been a baker for as long as I can remember, opening her own shop on Main Street when we first moved here.
It wasn’t long before she became renowned for her vanilla slice and famous lime soufflé.
She’s been making them my whole life and still, to this day, she won’t tell me what her secret is.
“Mom? Dad?” I shout as I toe off my flip-flops, dump my stuff at the door, and prop my board against the entryway wall.
“In here!” Dad replies.
I pass the small pile of bills—it’s grown since last week—and move into the kitchen.
Dad’s seated at the dining table, sipping coffee while he attempts a crossword. Mom opens the oven to see if the food’s ready.
I nod at him.
“Chase,” he returns, not breaking focus. “How was the surf?”
“Smooth as glass. Clean breaks.”
“Fantastic.”
I step forward to look over his shoulder. “How’s it going?”
“I swear these clues get worse and worse.”
“Sure you’re not just getting old?”
He locks eyes with me over his shoulder. “Watch it. You still can’t beat your old man.”
His pen hovers over the page, and I scan for the clue. “What goes retrograde three times each year?”
“Mercury,” I say.
His head whips in my direction. “How the hell did you know that?”
“Summer mentioned it once.”
He returns to his task, smug. “Ah. Summer.”
Jesus. Not him too. “Don’t start.”
“Oh, leave him alone, Dan,” Mom says, pulling her creation from the oven and setting it down on the cooktop. She turns to me. “Hi, sweetie.”
“Hey, Ma.” I make a beeline toward her as she tugs off her mitt.
“Smells good,” I say. I take the opportunity to peer over her shoulder to see what she’s made. My stomach growls when I spy a tray of freshly baked lime soufflés. My favorite.
“So,” I start, wrapping her in a hug. “Who’s truck is in the—"
“Ah!” She yelps, interrupting me as she extracts herself from my arms. “You’re all salty!”
“My bad.” I chuckle, stepping back. “You feeling better today?”
“Much better. The headaches have subsided.” She holds out her hands, palms up, to inspect them. “But these damn tremors won’t go away. I have no hope of piping anything today.”
“When do you get your results back?” I ask.
“Day after tomorrow.” She looks at Dad, who sends her a tight smile.
They’ve always been able to read each other’s facial expressions. I’m not sure whether I find it cool or creepy.
I shuffle to the sink, find a spoon, and scoop batter out of the mixing bowl. I resist the urge to moan as I shovel the citrusy goodness down.
“Easy.” Mom laughs. “You’ll make yourself sick.”
“I’m a growing boy, Mom.”
She shoos me away. “And filthy! Go upstairs and get cleaned up. You’re dropping sand everywhere.”
I smirk and toss the spoon in the sink, backing away with my hands up. “All right, all right. I’m done.”
“And come back down once you’re finished. We have something for you.”
My brows lift in surprise. I spin on my heel and dart upstairs. Once I’m clean and free of salt and sand, I return downstairs to find Mom and Dad standing side by side in the entryway, grinning.
Something’s up.
“What’s going on?” I ask, slowing on the bottom step.
Dad reaches into his pocket, pulls out a set of keys, and tosses them to me. My hand snaps out to catch them. I turn the Chevy keychain over. “What’s this?”
“Happy graduation,” he replies.
I furrow my brow.
“Go take a look outside,” Mom says, her eyes misty.
“Outside? What’s outsi—” The truck. I totally forgot about that.
I nearly trip off the bottom step. “No way.”
“Way.” Dad laughs. “She’s all yours.”
I gawk at them. “You’re serious?”
“You wanna go check her out?” he asks.
“Yes!” I beam. My heartbeat matches my strides as I fling myself around the banister and bolt outside.
I stare at the keys, then back at the maroon four-door 2010 Chevy Silverado.
The side panel has a few spots where the paint has chipped, like it’s been kissed by gravel roads, and the tailgate has the tiniest dent.
Sure, she’s a little worn, but I can tell she’s been loved.
Someone’s taken her on adventures. “How did you even afford this?”
“We’ve been saving,” Mom says, sidling up to me. Her shaky arm pulls me in for a side hug. I sling mine over her shoulders. “You’re going to need something to come back and visit us in when you go to college. We want to see you, you know.”
“I don’t know what to say.” My voice comes out rough. “This is … are you sure?”
“We’re sure. We’re proud of you, son.” Dad claps me on the shoulder.
I think of the sagging ceiling in the downstairs bathroom. The rotting floorboards and the stack of bills. “It’s too much. You can’t give me a car.”
“Why don’t you leave that decision up to us?” He winks.
I blow out a breath.
Tires screech as an old Honda careens onto the street and pulls up next door. I recognize it as Summer’s uncle’s car. A screen door bangs and my eyes flick to Doug, Summer’s father, storming down his front steps and slipping into the car before it tears off down the road.
“Well,” Mom interrupts. “Are you going to stand there, or do you want to take your mom for a spin?”
“A spin. Definitely.”
I round the truck—my board will fit perfectly in the bed—and slink into the driver’s seat, adjusting the rearview mirror and rubbing my palms over the wheel. I inhale the scent of dust and worn leather, and my chest aches in the best possible way.
I think I was right. Everything’s going to change.