Young Annabelle Read online

  Chapter 2

  August 1st, 2012 – 6 weeks earlier

  “ANNABELLE!” Mom screamed from the kitchen as I opened the front door to leave.

  “What?” I yelled, turning to face the kitchen.

  Mom came running out with a purple lunch box that I remembered using when I was eight.

  UGH! Great…

  “You forgot your lunch, sweetie,” she told me breathlessly.

  Sweetie?

  Fighting the urge to laugh, I ducked my head down and pulled my dark blue backpack around to my front and opened it; Mom pushed the lunch box in. I zipped up my bag and swung it back onto my back.

  “Yeah okay, thanks Mom,” I muttered, glancing at the ground to hide my disappointment. I didn’t forget my lunch, but I’d hoped Mom would have so I could have bought food from one of the stands at work.

  “Don’t forget to eat the snacks I packed during each of your fifteen-minute breaks, okay? We have to follow the plan properly, just like the nutritionist said, or else we’re not going to get those amazing results,” she pressed annoyingly.

  I took a moment to suppress my volatile emotions. My mother and her ‘amazing results’ fixation always put me in a horrible mood.

  “No worries, snacks during mini breaks got it,” I assured as I took a step passed the doorframe.

  “And the meal,” she continued, “you have to eat all of it, or else your body will go into shock from being so hungry–”

  “Mom! I got it,” I interrupted. Her ramblings were getting repetitive; God she was annoying. I quickly slammed the door shut before she snapped at me for being rude.

  “Annabelle!” I heard her yell through the door as I dashed to the wooden gate that led to our backyard and grabbed my green and black bike from behind it.

  I always rode my bike to work. It wasn’t because my parents didn’t want to drive me; it was the feeling I’d get while I soared down the hills on the path to work. It felt as if I was flying. Now, if only that feeling could become an actuality and I could be like E.T. and fly away on my bike to a place where I felt safe and at home. I wanted to go to a place where I wouldn’t be reminded every second of every day that I needed to lose weight. A place where I had people who supported me instead of ganging up on me all the time.

  “Yo, Anna!” I heard the familiar voice call out my name.

  I pushed down on my brakes and dropped my feet from the pedals, stopping the bike completely.

  I gazed at the bottom of the hill I was about to soar down and saw Jenna waving her arm next to the bike docks at Royal Heights Country Club. We both worked there; I spent my days outside in the blazing heat, manning the lemonade stand next to the golf course, and she worked in air-conditioned bliss doing administration work at the reception desk. When we applied for positions here we’d hoped to get placed together, working at one of the stands they had outside.

  That didn’t happen.

  We were split up immediately. Not surprisingly, they put her on front desk reception because Jenna was beautiful and had a great body from swimming competitively all her life. I, on the other hand, was decent looking (totally cute according to Jenna) but my body was not slim, so they stuck me outside at the lemonade stand where I squeezed lemons all day, making thirst-quenching lemonade for rich people.

  Speaking of rich people, I’d better get down there quick before I’m late!

  I pedaled forward and, as I hit the curve where I’d fly down, a shiny black SUV rolled beside me. I stalled for a few seconds to let it go down the hill first. I liked space when I was on my hill.

  When I flew, I did it alone and that meant no cars trailing beside me, ruining the one moment I looked forward to each time I went to work. The SUV took its chance and went rolling down the hill, cautious and slow. As soon as it rounded the corner, stopping in front of the valet stand, I glanced quickly behind me for any incoming cars. No cars. Check. I pedaled forward and gravity did the rest. I sped down the hill at speeds that would have made even a fearless person scream. I didn’t scream. I hollered in ecstasy as I released my handlebars and held out my arms to dance against the wind as I soared.

  Fly!

  If I could have, I’d have closed my eyes too.

  “Hold your brakes!” Jenna screamed as I came charging at her. I shook my head and laughed as I hollered again, this time louder.

  “Damn it! Anna, brakes!” she pleaded as she dove out of the way.

  I depressed my brakes a fraction and the bike slowed down a little. My feet found the pedals and I resumed control of the bike for the last few feet to the bike dock.

  “Relax!” I teased Jenna as I came to a complete stop in front of an empty spot at the dock.

  Jenna walked around the dock as I got off my bike.

  “You almost crushed me!” She fake cried as I bent down to lock up my bike.

  “Almost,” I grinned. “But you’re still here, safe and sound.”

  I straightened and shoved the key into my backpack’s front pocket. Her face had turned ugly as she scowled angrily at me, but it only lasted for two seconds before a wide grin broke out of her steel frown.

  “Bitch,” she muttered, linking her arm through mine and pulling me towards the employee entrance of the club.

  “Scaredy cat,” I retorted.

  Her shoulder bumped against mine, making me stumble.

  “Hey!” I laughed as she continued to drag me. “I see you’re resorting to physical violence now,” I said, attempting to get my footing in order.

  “Just keeping you in line, buddy.” She gave me a knowing grin and laughed.

  We rounded the corner, passing the valet stand. The employee entrance was tucked around the corner to the member entrance but, surprisingly, the bike dock was out front. Who else besides employees would ride a bike to a country club?

  My eyes widened when I noticed the black SUV idling by the employee entrance. Usually that kind of car either utilized the valet or they were dropping off someone at the front entrance.

  “What do you think that’s all about?” Jenna asked quietly. She, too, was perplexed at the sight of the expensive car back here.

  “Don’t know,” I told her as we approached the door. I craned my neck to take one last look before going inside. The windows were tinted so I couldn’t see anything. I heard the car lock click and I quickly twisted back around. Jenna and I unlinked arms and went into the change room to put our bags in our lockers.

  *****

  An hour and a half later I was back in the employee change room, opening the purple lunch box from my childhood.

  My first break was only fifteen minutes. In this time I could use the bathroom, eat, socialize, rest or chill in the locker room. What I couldn’t do was buy food in the club’s restaurant because employees weren’t allowed in there. The stands that offered food outside had yet to open; mine was the only stand that opened early. Apparently it was never too early for freshly squeezed lemonade.

  My stomach was growling and I knew that whatever my mom had packed me wouldn’t even come close to satisfying the hunger pains.

  “Fucking great!” I muttered quietly as I peered in at what I would unfortunately be faced with consuming.

  The first glance wasn’t shocking nor was it quite what I expected. Mom had given me a banana; she was trying to be nutritious yet playful at the same time. I hadn’t been called ‘Anna Banana’ in a while and the feeling of Mom and Dad attempting the whole ‘we just want our baby girl to be healthy’ thing was rubbing me the wrong way. My parents didn’t do sweet and cuddly; they were in your face, rash, and to the point despite your feelings. At least that’s how it’d been for the last few years.

  So I got a banana. First break snack. Check.

  For my second break, I pulled out a strawberry yogurt and turned it around so I could check the calories. Right under the nutritional information there was a red circle around total calories.

  I shook my head; my mother’s antics were driving me mad. There was
a bright side though – the entire yogurt was only 80 calories. Perhaps that was why it was circled; Mom thought it was an indulgence and a healthy choice at only 80 calories.

  Look at all the things like this yogurt that I could choose to consume that were only 80 calories. Gee, if I just continued to make great choices like this, well, I bet I’d be losing all this weight in no time!

  And just for that, I threw the yogurt in the trash. The banana stayed though. There was no red marker on it indicating the calories, besides I was hungry. Plain and simple.

  I glanced up at the clock. My break was almost over. I must have been obsessing too intensely over the delicious contents of my lunch box. I quickly tucked it back into my locker and shut the door. I unpeeled the banana and shoved it in my mouth. Half a minute later, the peel hit the trash and I was out the door.

  *****

  “You’re late,” Shelby, the snack stand supervisor, said as I returned to my stand that still had the ‘Be back in 15 minutes’ sign up.

  I glanced down at my watch. I was thirty seconds late.

  Those poor club members!

  They had to wait a whole extra thirty seconds on top of the fifteen minutes I had for break. I was truly the most insensitive employee this club had ever seen.

  Not!

  I glanced around; the lot was empty. My eyes circled back, catching the burn of Shelby’s impatient glare. I was sick of people giving me glares. What the hell did she want? Maybe I had cramps. Maybe they were really bad. I wondered what she’d say I divulged a detail like that as my reason for being late.

  I’m not late, so suck it!

  But I wasn’t in the mood to start anything with her so I didn’t fight it. It wasn’t worth the second scowl Shelby would give me, or the lengthy lecture about punctuality. And I was on my own today; the other girl, Denise, had quit yesterday and they hadn’t had time to find a replacement to work alongside me.

  “Sorry,” I said, watching her play with the papers on her clipboard. She grabbed the pencil that was perpetually tucked her ear and circled something on the sheets.

  “You’re training today.”

  “I’m training?” I repeated.

  “Yep,” Shelby said flatly. “Got a newbie today. Young like you. Great, huh?” She tilted her head to the side, indicating to guy lifting up a crate of lemons.

  How did I not notice him there all this time?

  “Yeah, that’s great,” I replied with sarcastic enthusiasm, watching the new guy carry the crate into the stand and set it on the table.

  Shelby took that as an okay and left to bother one of the other snack stand operators.

  I took down the break sign from the front of the stand. The new guy’s back was still to me. He was tall.

  Maybe 6’1”… 6’2”…

  “Hey,” he called out, jolting me out of my haze.

  “Hey!” I practically shouted back. I instantly looked away, feeling embarrassed.

  Great, I probably look mental now.

  I glanced at him briefly from the corner of my eye. His green eyes had widened at my volume and his expression read ‘Whoa, what was that?’

  THAT WAS ANNABELLE!

  Did I mention I love green?

  Nervous butterflies began awakening in my lower stomach. I had made a hideous first impression. I used his stunned moment of taken aback-ness to quickly check him out.

  He was definitely 6’2” now that I could fully see him – a sight I knew I’d be daydreaming about for days to come. Besides being the perfect amount of tall, his body was well-proportioned. His lean, muscled physique was evidenced by the way the club’s black and green polo fit him. Tight, but not too tight. The curves on his arms, chest, and back took on a life of their own. You’d need a map to guide you around those roadblocks. Only in my wildest dreams would I ever be given the chance to try navigating my way around so much man.

  Geez! Like I’d ever get that map!

  Did I mention his hair? He had really nice hair. A dark brown mop that flowed at an angle around his beautiful eyes. Along the lines of Justin Bieber in his earlier days. But messier and way sexier.

  My fingers needed a play-date with that hair.

  Snap out of it, creep!

  I shook my head subtly. I did not need him thinking I was a head-twitcher too.

  I went around the stand and came inside; the crate of fresh lemons was between us.

  “Sorry, I was just shocked they got someone so quickly,” I explained as I dunked my hands into the mass of lemons.

  He leaned forward and grabbed a lemon from the crate and tossed it in the air with a quick flick of his wrist, catching it again with ease. “What happened to the other girl?”

  “How’d you know it was a girl?” My eyes narrowed. His cool demeanor showed its first signs of cracking as a hint of a cocky smile broke out from his firmly bored expression.

  That didn’t take long…

  “Simple,” he replied, “I’ve never seen a guy work in a place like this. Unless he was a fruit.”

  My brows rose instantly at his sexist remark.

  “Then why are you here? You’re a guy and this is a lemonade stand. We make fresh lemonade here. It’s very girly, obviously,” I told him, locking my arms across my chest.

  His hint of a smile spreads out wider, his full grin showcasing his perfect white teeth.

  I could melt…

  “I’m a different case,” he stated as if it should qualify as an answer.

  “That’s not saying shit, so I’ll make it easier, since you’re circling the issue at hand–”

  “I’m not circling anything, I’m different–”

  “Yeah, I bet you are,” my tone was rising, “but in this day and age, we don’t call gay guys fruity; that’s discriminatory and incredibly rude!”

  He immediately took a step back, his grin disappearing.

  “You’re words not mine, fireball.” His grin instantly returned.

  I let out an exasperated grunt and shook my head at his choice of nickname for me.

  Wow, I didn’t think it was possible, but asshole can trump cute… That’s a damn shame!

  “What now?” he teased with a laugh.

  Clearly he’d noticed my response to the inaccurate name he’d branded me with. It didn’t even begin to describe my personality, not that fireball was beyond my realm of expression though. Perhaps I should show him what a fireball really looked like.

  He grabbed another lemon from the crate.

  “So are you gonna ride my ass every time I say something stupid or are you gonna teach me this shit?” He held out the lemon in the space between us.

  Ignoring his extended arm, I leaned down to grab a lemon. “How about both, douche!”

  He dropped his lemon back into the crate.

  “Both,” he echoed, which meant he knew he was an asshole and didn’t care. Well that wasn’t going to fly with me.

  “That’s right,” I snapped, “if you say something stupid I’m going to call you out on it but, if you’re a good little boy, I just might teach you how to make freshly squeezed lemonade.” I offered him a faux sweet smile.

  I turned toward the juicer on the table and dropped the lemon beside it. “Come here and bring your lemon.”

  He took a few extra seconds to select the perfect lemon before coming to stand next to me. His shoulder grazed mine ever so lightly.

  Okay, a little too close.

  Normally it wouldn’t have bothered me if a hot guy stood beside me, I’d be all ‘yay me’, but the asshole persona was a major turn off.

  My head dipped down slightly and, for a brief second, I caught a whiff of his scent: a mixture of shampoo and cologne. It was nice.

  “You like how I smell, huh?”

  WHAT! How on earth did he notice?

  My ponytail flew through the air as my head jerked back up. I shook my head in disbelief. “I didn’t smell you!”

  “Did so, fireball,” he replied smugly. “You got all quiet and
the only thing I heard was the sound of your nostrils sniffing my sweet scent!” He was laughing at me.

  “I was not–” I tried to defend myself but he interrupted me.

  “Yes you were. I don’t blame you, I’d smell me, too, if I wasn’t me.”

  “Oh my God! Get over yourself!”

  I reached down and grabbed my lemon so brutally that a bit of juice leaked into my hand. I held it in front of him and shook it to get his attention.

  “Watch how I do this!” I ordered.

  “Got it, boss.” He saluted.

  I took a deep breath and decided to ignore his remark. I placed the lemon on the cutting block and sliced it in half. I then demonstrated how to use the juicer with half the lemon. As one cup was filling with juice, I grabbed another and walked over to the giant juice jug that contained the club’s signature water-sugar syrup. I explained how much to pour in (approximately half the cup); he watched closely and didn’t make any smart-ass comments. I mixed the syrup in with the fresh lemon juice then grabbed the other half of the lemon and cut it up.

  “The other half we cut it into five wedges and put in the drink along with a scoop of ice,” I told him. I crouched to open the electric freezer underneath the juicer’s table and scooped some ice into the lemonade. Then I pulled out a few frozen pieces of mint. “We add these on top, as a garnish and for taste. And voila, freshly squeezed lemonade with frozen mint.”

  He was staring blankly at the drink.

  “Can I drink it now?” he asked then suddenly, before I could say ‘no’, he picked up the drink and downed it. I stepped back in surprise at his level of thirst; I had never seen a person drink so fast. He was obviously a growing boy.

  “Easy there, tiger,” I suggested softly.

  He put down the cup and looked at me with a gentler expression.

  “I’m ‘tiger’ now?” He was grinning again.

  Oh shit!

  I stood silent, at a loss for words. I hadn’t intended to give him a nickname.

  “Um, no, that didn’t come out right, I didn’t mean it!” Minor-ly humiliated, I snatched the cup and walk away from him to the garbage can on the other side of the stand. He followed right behind me.