Sunrise
Chapter 10: Sweet Home Alabama
Sweet Home Alabama—Lynard Synard
Some of my Alabama facts may be seriously off, considering I don't live there. So bare with me. I'm going to use the "Sweet Home Alabama" movie as a base. So, some setting may be in here from that movie, even if the town is different. If you live in the town, sorry, I just picked it from a random website. I own nothing except the characters. (Waterloo, AL. pop: 208)
OOO
Alabama.
Beautiful place, really. Plenty of tall, shadowy trees. Plenty of multicolored leaves rushing in the wind as I sped by. Humongous houses. All that greeted me in the south, where autumn was just beginning. Radio stations flitted back and forth as I passed through the states. Pointless songs and meaningful verses washed over my ears, blocking out everything I felt. While my mother couldn't listen to music at the time my father departed, I craved it. Needed it. Loved it.
But then there were blares of departure and hate. I switched the channel.
I did, however, let out a sigh in the eerie silence that followed. Just moving to a completely different state—even if across the country—wasn't going to help me evade the most powerful beings in Vampire society. Screw royalty. It was getting seriously annoying.
I really needed to stop thinking about it, but trying to erase yourself from existence wasn't easy. I was remotely surprised I had gotten through Montana without being spotted. Then again, Clinton, Montana was an extremely low-populated place. The population varied to about five hundred and fifty people. I had run into maybe one car on the main road. Shocker.
But on the other hand, I'd realized the first time around I was famous in that place. My car was supposedly still in the lake, broken window, ripped seatbelt, broken taillight and all. After all, I had left a gap in that beautiful bridge of theirs. Whoops.
I shuddered at the memory, my mind instantly pivoting back to my murderer. Even if my name had been in the papers of the local gas station, it had been over a year. So my being unnoticed made sense. That, and my inhuman beauty had probably made me unrecognizable.
I will, I thought, continuing back on my original train of thought, have to make myself even less ostentatious. There were two options with both pros and cons. Option one: Get into a big city, act as a refuge, go unnoticed. Good plan. Except for one minor detail. Cities were crowded and I easily got claustrophobia. That and if I needed blood, there wouldn't be any forest nearby, and I'd have to feed off humans. At least unless I wanted to devour the neighbor's dog. I grimaced. No, option one was out.
Option two: Get enrolled in a small town. Keep to yourself, talk little, try and keep out of the small-town friendly atmosphere. Something I was indeed good at. I'd dealt with small towns before. I could swipe some money and pay for rent in a local inn or something. Or I could get a job, but that would just draw attention to myself, which was not an option. An added bonus: forest! Plenty of that in Alabama. And I could go by my recently attired stage name: Rita Fowler. Fun.
So, option two was a go. Easy peasy. I could use my credit card until I got discredited, and then all would be well. Just stay out of sight as much of possible. Of course, that would become an awkward situation, considering I was starting to regret ever buying the Aston Marten.
OOO
Within the next week, I'd gotten myself a job, a place to sleep and eat, and registered in a school. Not exactly what I'd been planning per se.
No, what I'd gotten myself into was the exact opposite of lying low. I had been planning on ignoring Jaime's advice and just get a place to live, but no. I seemed to be inheriting my mother's bad luck streak.
One thing was for sure. If I ever came across Lucas's car, I'd slash his tires and steering wheel. I'd carve my name into the seats and smash all the windows and mirrors. I'd destroy the engine and attached a time bomb. I'd write GOTCHA! on the windshield—the only window I wouldn't break.
Why? Because it was all his fault.
Apparently, my concussion had left permanent damage to my brain. Something you would expect when being attacked by a vampire, sure. Not something you would expect when actually being one yourself. It seemed I had more questions for Carlisle than I'd originally planned.
What was even worse was the fact I had acquired myself yet another family. Even if they hadn't adopted me, I lived in the attic above their home. So, whenever I came and went, they knew. Not exactly the freedom or discreetness I had planned for either.
It had started because I'd been traveling three days straight as a human without any form of nutrition. Now, if I had stayed a vampire, I would not have needed to hunt, and furthermore, been able to get here a lot faster. Problems: It was sunny in the south, and the Aston Marten's windows were not heavily tinted. I couldn't go around causing accidents with my shimmering glory. Problem number two: therefore I could not turn into a vampire, and thus had to worry about my driving and in addition, my safety. I couldn't get tickets and draw attention to myself.
Another reason I'd been traveling three days? Well, you try traveling across the country with going remotely fast and trying not to get a ticket. It takes forever, and I didn't have time to stop except for gas. I got a couple sodas when I couldn't "pay at the pump". That, and I'd felt too guilty too eat—too unsettled.
So, as I pulled into the local store (the one local store) of Waterloo, Alabama, (population: 210—I knew this because I'd lived here as a child once before—)I fainted. Out cold, all the blood rushing from my head. I woke up with the Henrys. They fussed over me and fed me, bickering with each other about my health.
I had already officially decided in addition to vandalizing Lucas's car, next time I came across him, I would beat the living crap out of him.
His little "present" had ruined everything. And the people who'd retrieved me from the parking lot did not believe I was eighteen. The told me I could stay with them on two conditions: one, I worked in their local store to pay my rent, and two, I go to school. When I'd politely declined their offer, they insisted, "What's a pretty little thing like you doing all alone out here?" That basically settled it. That was code for, "Darling, we're calling the cops if you leave now." I couldn't get the cops involved. That just screamed "attention".
So, as I walked into school three days later, I wore baggy jeans and a faded T-shirt, as opposed to my flamboyant Italian designer clothing. Alice would probably happily murder me in my current attire, but it was all about lying low. See, I'd noticed that even as a human, I still held the vampiric element of beauty about my appearance. I wore a conductor's hat, pulling up my hair into the top of it. Looking it the mirror, I could probably pass as a freshman guy. Too bad I was a girl and entering junior year.
I was walking through the halls, trying to look indifferent by placing the rim of my hat over my unnaturally compelling green eyes, I heard it. Jeering from a nearby room.Well, I thought, curiosity killed the cat.
I had to tilt my head up to see, but I almost instantly wished I hadn't. Two jocks were making fun of a brown-skinned guy. Idiots number 1 and 2 were laughing, and I felt my face mold into a scowl. Victim Guy was taking their teasing with arms crossed, fists clenched. I picked up what was happening at once.
"Go back to Mars, you nigger!" Idiot 1 mocked as I drew closer. I rolled my eyes. Was that the best insult he could come up with?
"Back to Mars," Idiot 2 quoted with a laugh. I sighed. Great. An Idiot 1 clone.
I shoved my clenched fists into my pockets and planted my feet beside Victim Guy. My jaw was set, my eyes blazing. I was scrunching my fingers together so much it hurt, but I kept my air of cool. I stared ahead at the enemy, who had stopped laughing—Idiot 2 a little later than Idiot 1, in which Idiot 1 had elbowed him in the side.
"Hey assholes," I said, my smile sinful and my voice easy. "Go pick on someone your own size."
Truth was, my words had little meaning, considering Victim Guy was half a foot taller than both of them. They just laughed though, after the few minutes it took them to understand me, and Idiot 1 said, "Going through puberty, kid? You sound like a girl."
I refrained from rolling my eyes. Instead, I punched Idiot 1 in the face. My vampire strength caused him to fall back against the floor, but I hadn't hit hard enough to even leave him a bloody nose. Pathetic. I stood over him so he could see my face clearly. "That's because I am one, you sexist pig."
I straightened up, repressing the urge to shake my aching hand. I turned to Idiot 2. "You next?" I asked lowly, and he shook his head before helping his partner up. They tried to walk with grace from the room, but one (Idiot 2, I think) tripped over a desk and staggered the rest of the way out.
Wow. Special.
I shook out my throbbing hand as I face Victim Guy. "Thanks," he said, his voice deep and low. "It takes a lot of courage to talk to those two, much less punch them. Do you do that at every new school?"
"It's becoming a habit," I muttered dismissively, walking over to the sink and running cold water on my abused hand. "Dammit," I muttered after a moment. "I really can't risk getting expelled on my first day."
He laughed. "Don't worry," he told me earnestly. "Jack and Dave won't tell a story where they got their asses kicked by a girl for a million bucks. Too embarrassing on their behalf. They will, however, switch you to their new target. You'll receive insults every time they pass you in the hallway."
"I think I can handle it," I said shortly, shutting off the water and drying my hands. I glanced at Victim Guy. He looked so familiar.
"I don't doubt it, Cara," he said with a grin. Just as I was about to ask him how the hell he knew my name, he added, "Don't tell me you don't remember the mischief we used to hit up? Come on, it's Robbie."
My subconscious flitted. My childhood friend, Robert Jenson. I blinked rapidly, my brain processing the information at lightning speed. We used to be best of friends, troublemakers who used to trespass and vandalize things. This had been the town where I'd stayed with the family for that one year. They never knew about my nonexistent criminal record, because we barely ever got caught. Waterloo was a very small town. Two police at the most. Whenever one arrived on the scene, we'd just hightail it out of there before they could shine us.
I just gapped at Robbie. "You're kidding," I finally managed. He shook his head, and I grinned, giving him a hug. "For the record," I added as we began to walk into the hallway, "I'm going by Rita. Can't explain it now, but maybe later." I could beat around the bush. Robbie was one to be trusted.
"You don't look like a Rita," he commented. Leave it to Robbie to analyze names.
I rolled my eyes, adjusting my hat. "So I'm told," I agreed. We continued down the hallway, which wasn't even crowded. Considering Waterloo had two hundred people, that meant that only thirty at the most were enrolled in the one high school. We had one class to go to, all the kids with ages ranging from sixteen to seventeen and from the entire county in the same room. That added up to about seven kids. Fun.
"I hope you don't mind a girl fighting your battles for you, Rob," I said after a moment, and he laughed. "You could have taken them down easy."
"Duh, I don't mind. God, Rita. You know I ain't like some of them folks around here. Some are prejudice, some sexist, some religionist…" He laughed. "But, hey. Who am I to judge? It's like that in every state, you know? There's always going to be one person, at least, who doesn't like what the other thinks. But hey, your badass and a girl. I don't have no problems with that."
I grinned. "I still bet you could've beat the living shit out of them," I chided. He scowled down at me. I came up to about his elbow. Robbie was a giant.
"So… Rita," he teased, changing the subject. "That sounds an awful lot like a northern name, correct?"
I grimaced. "Yup, I'm from New York." He gave me an incredulous look.
"Yeah, and I'm from Florida," he said disdainfully. "Sorry, kid. You sound nothing like you're from New York."
"Only the Manhattan people have accents," I said, pretending to be offended. It was true—I'd lived in the mountains of New York once. No accents.
He gave me a reproachful look, like "yeah right". I scowled up at him, tilting my head up to see past my hat. "Twot," I muttered. He shook his shaved head.
We walked into the one class together, and I sat down behind him. At a glance, I realized why Robbie was the subject of teasing. There was not one other African American in the room. I remembered his twin sister Madison… but where was she?
I sunk down in my chair and tried to look invisible, but of course, that was impossible. I was the new girl/guy. However they saw it. I was the official object of attention.
"Settle down, you raging boxes of hormones," the teacher said as he flopped his binder on his desk and the bell rang. I glanced out of the corner of my eye. Two teens had been kissing and were pulling away, looking embarrassed. I rolled my eyes. Nothing new; it happened at every school.
"Mr. Larson." I cringed as I recognized Idiot 1's voice. "May I remind you that hats are against school regulations and therefore are not allowed?"
I turned around in my seat and glared at Jack. He smiled and waved politely, safe in his seat across a room with a certified teacher present. My eyes narrowed. Not for long.
Mr. Larson nodded. "That is true, Jackarino. Miss…" He scanned the role. "Miss Fowler, please take off your brain-cap."
I sighed, removing the conductor hat and running a hand through my hair. There was an array of reactions: a few gasps from the students who'd thought me male, but then the cat-calls and wolf-whistles started. Ugh. I closed my eyes, laying my head on my desk. Before I did, though, I saw Idiots 1 and 2 staring at me in complete disbelief.
Class was over soon and then lunch was available. I'd realized we stayed in the same room, all day. Except for PE, which we all migrated to the mini-field outside.
"Hey chick," Idiot 1 said as I was biting into my sandwich. I gritted my teeth.
"Hey, asshole," I replied without looking up from my drink. Robbie struggled to keep his face composed, and I kept mine smooth. I was getting the impression people did not talk to Jack and Dave like I did.
Jack leaned across the table, a sneer on his face. "What did you say, Tomboy?"
"I said, 'Hey asshole'," I clarified coolly. Then I contemplated that. "But then again, you'd probably take that as a compliment. Or would you prefer—?"
Before I could finish, he'd shoved me back in my chair. I stood up immeadiately, and we faced each other, waiting for the enemy to make the next move. "Wouldn't want to loose to a girl, now would you, Jack?" I asked, glancing back at Dave.
His expression remained cool, but I could almost smell the fear coming off him. He did not want to lose to a girl. And he did not want people hearing about it, either. I placed my hands on the table and moved even closer. Our eyes were cold and merciless.
"You couldn't throw one at me even if you had the guts, Fowler," he sneered. I raised my eyebrow. We were on a last name basis now, were we?
"Sure I can," I said lightly, ignoring a guy who was biting his fingernails. "And I can take you off your petty little pedestal, too."
He heard the malice in my tone. "You don't want to pick a bone with me, Witch," he mocked. "At least not without Dave present." I had realized Idiot 2 was not present. My eyes narrowed. I wasn't backing down.
"I sure do," I countered easily. "Now why don't you take your still pretty face and eat your fancy little lunch." Anyone who didn't know me would take that as a complement. Robbie, however, knew otherwise. He gave me a shocked look. He knew I was talking about 'perfect' families. People who pretended. I didn't pretend.
But I guess Jack knew what I was saying, too, because he didn't eat his lunch. He stayed there, crossing his arms and staring me down. I shoved my hands in my pockets and looked at him with cold indifference. My fists clenched tightly in my jeans, we stayed like that. I saw Robbie shake his head at the back of Jack's. Apparently, Robbie figured I could win this fight hands down. I knew I could, but I wasn't about to say that again.
"Do we have a problem here?" came the voice of Waterloo High's dean. Rob had pointed him out to me, and I didn't forget voices very often. Jack turned his head slightly to the side, as if to acknowledge the dean, but otherwise, his eyes stood locked with mine. "Take a deep breath," the dean continued, "both of you. Now step away. Conflict is solved better with words, not action. Violence is not the answer."
No, I thought. It's just the solution.
"Back away, just, tone it down," the dean soothed again. I glanced at him. What the hell? What the Dean Williams also the school shrink? Yes, Robbie informed me as my nemesis and Williams walked away. Yes he was.
Great. I thought as I walked to the Aston Marten and waved goodbye to Rob. I'd been here a total of three days—less than a week—and I'd gotten myself a family, a job, and I'd made a mortal enemy and reunited with my best friend from my preteens. Wonderful. So far, laying low wasn't working.
Just. Wonderful.
OOO
My job at the local store only made matters worse. I had cashier duty. I would have taken the phone or stacking the shelves over money any day, because working the cashier meant I'd be seeing practically everyone in town. I'd have to check them out, and since this was such a small town, they'd only have to remember one face, so they would remember me. Easily. Great.
I was really beginning to regret ever coming to Waterloo, Alabama. Claustrophobia was looking really great compared to the trouble I was in.
"I'll be damned," I said loudly as Robbie walked through the store's door about a week later. The bell chimed again and a girl with dark, long hair glided in after him. I wondered again where Madison was. "If it isn't the devil himself."
"Hey," he said, then added, "I think that accent is getting a bit too good." The dark-haired girl flashed him a smile, and then turned it on me. "This is my other best friend, Kayla. Kay, this is… Rita. She used to live here back in my preteen years."
"Nice to meet you Kayla," I said easily. Then I turned to Rob, giving him a look that said: Can I speak with you?
"One sec, Kay," he said. "I need to talk with Rita for a moment." He followed me to the back room, and asked, "What?"
"Robbie, I know now's not a good time, but can you tell me what happened to the family I used to live with? You know, before I left? I don't want to go around getting recognized and shit."
He just looked at me.
OOO
MWHAHAHA! CLIFFIE! YAY!
Heh heh… I mean…. Yeah. So, I'm watching TITANIC at the moment, and all I can say is… WHY, JACK, WHY?!?!?!?!?!
Jamie.