Chapter Two.
And between you and me,
something amazing happened!
In a smallish town, stuck in the middle of everywhere, a tired weary mother drove a not quite child yet still young girl home from high school; the mother? Foutley.
The girl? Ginger…her thoughts? Numerous. "Ugh, what did Carl do this time?" cried Mrs. Foutley in frustration; you could hear her temper was thin. Ginger didn't hear her mom's annoyance or rather did but her brain, placing this new entry number 437.23 on the list of priority her choppy mind was compiling and thus logged it to be thought later…not now.
What Ginger did think about then and there, and very hard was this;
Does Darren love me?...I'm never sure this will work out, why did she think I was depressed from one poem? Why am I even thinking about that, that was months ag-am I depressed?...I really need to start that report, its due next week…but on wha-who's outside our house?
Ginger's mind had just up here mother's statement from three-fourths down to the list to pretty much on top when a collection of voices found their way, garbled, inside the car…talking consisting mainly of her and her family. Her stomach knotted and she felt sick like cancer. A tear itched her nose and she saw salty droplets funnel down her cheeks through her peripheral vision. With a small inward gasp, she releaized why the tear fell which only served to bring several more down her face, she had remembered the exact memory that caused the sadness…the memories.
Started with a deadly fungus infection and ended with a confusing boy with questions unanswered, sheared down the middle, these two adjoing memories played like a conversation as audio shot back and forth between the two until the car door sound broke through wit ripples. Ginger looked up to see her mom staring down,
"Ginger, what's the matter honey? Are you okay?"
Meeting her mom's gaze, she peered past, focusing in on the camera crew running over to intercept their path,
"I'll…stay in the car, if that's okay mom".
Mrs. Foutely smiled thinly,
"Sure honey, I'll be right back" she replied understanding why, closing the door. As she headed toward the reporter quickly running through a story intro, her hip swagger suggested a possibility that she was as much in the mood to answers questions as Ginger…but less patience, less subtlety.
"Ginger! It's okay…Come here, you should here this".