~ Saved Times Three ~

by

Edee Wilcox

“And the Grammy goes to…”

Erica Lawrence waited anxiously for the announcement. She could feel the clammy dampness ooze from her palms. “This is it,” she whispered, “The moment I’ve waited for my entire life.”

~ * ~

“Erica Lawrence!” a loud voice boomed.

Erica jumped from her seat, covering her mouth demurely with her hands. “Oh.” She looked at the rows of empty desks before glancing up at the owner of the voice. “I must’ve dozed off.” The dream faded quickly from her head.

“Seems that way,” Blake Larkston chuckled. “You must’ve been dreaming about something pretty awesome. That grin was unmistakable--even in a sleep-induced state.”

Erica felt her cheeks burn. “I don’t remember,” she stammered. “I’ve got to get to my locker. Farron’s meeting me.” She grabbed her notebook from the top of the desk and scurried past Blake into the crowded hall. Blake was only the most handsome guy she had ever seen in her life. How could she be so stupid? She found her locker and fumbled with the combination until it popped open.

“You look frazzled. What’s up?” Farron Parker asked as planted herself beside Erica, her long jean-clad legs spread apart enough to make her eye to eye with Erica.

Erica shook her blondish red waves. “I made a complete idiot of myself in front of Blake.”

“I’ve done that thousands of times, but I was usually hammered at the time. What’s your excuse?”

Erica wasn’t sure if Farron was joking about being hammered or not and she wasn’t sure if it meant what she thought it meant anyway. She hadn’t lived in Hidden Oakes that long and wasn’t sure if things had the same meaning as they did in her old neighborhood. There, no one would admit to being hammered. “Definitely not my excuse,” Erica answered, “I was just tired. So tired I fell asleep and he caught me dreaming.”

“Must’ve been some dream. Was it about Blake?” Farron’s eyes held a hint of mischief.

“No. It wasn’t about anybody really.” Erica shoved a notebook into her already overstuffed locker.

Farron leaned her bare boney shoulder against the locker beside Erica’s. “You’re still going tonight, aren’t you?” She popped a large bright pink bubble that provided a sharp contrast against the ivory tint of her skin.

“As far as I know.” Erica stopped long enough to look at Farron. “I’m still shocked Mom agreed in the first place. She’s usually so, so…”

“Overprotective?” Farron finished before blowing another huge bubble.

“Yeah, overprotective,” Erica answered, slamming the locker door before anything could tumble out. How it could be so packed this early in the school year, Erica had no clue, but if this was any indication, she might have to make some other arrangements for her stuff by Christmas!

Farron smacked the wad of gum and examined her short pink fingernails that matched it. “At least you know she cares. That’s more than I can say about my parents.” Farron rolled her eyes as she pushed herself from the locker. “Let’s get this weekend started.”

Farron and Erica shoved their way through the crowded hall and onto the front lawn of Hidden Oakes High. Farron winked. “John and Blake are picking us up at your house.”

“That’s great. Blake probably thinks I’m an idiot after waking me up.”

“Like I said, he’ll get over it. I’m sure I’ve done a lot worse in front of him. In fact, one time, he had to practically carry me to the car because I kept tripping over my own feet. That’s what too many shots of vodka will do to you.” Farron grinned.

Erica figured that’s what she meant by being hammered. “I wouldn’t know since I’ve never tried vodka.”

“We’ll have to do something about that, won’t we? About tonight, I’ll come early so we can get ready together.” Her eyes roamed across Erica’s faded jeans and lime green T-shirt. With a shrug, she added, “I’ll bring something for you to wear, too. We need to update that look of yours.”

Erica puckered her lips in a slight pout, but didn’t respond. She knew no one wore just jeans and a T-shirt in Hidden Oakes, a ritzy subdivision of Salemridge, North Carolina, but knowing how conservative her mom was, Erica hadn’t gotten up the nerve to ask her for more up-to-date clothes. For a small Southern town, the girls of Hidden Oakes High definitely knew what the latest trends were!

Since Farron lived just two doors down and across the street from Erica, and both of them less than a mile from the school, they had gotten into the habit of walking the shaded sidewalks home together. As they meandered towards home, Farron asked, “How do you like Hidden Oakes so far?”

Erica tugged on her book bag, freeing a slice of strawberry blonde hair that had tucked itself beneath the strap. “Hard to say. I’ve only been here a few weeks.”

Erica and her mother, Blaire, had moved to Hidden Oakes as soon as they could after Grandma Hutchens passed away. Grandma Hutchens had lived near them in the less desirable part of town and was really no relation at all, but she had been Erica’s main caretaker for almost as long as she could remember. Erica’s dad ran off when she was barely three years old leaving Blaire and Erica to fend for themselves. Blaire went to school during the day and waited tables at night, determined to make a better life for herself and her daughter. Grandma Hutchens was there to make sure she could. Blaire and Erica stayed by her side until the day she was buried, taking care of her in her old age as she had taken care of them in their younger days.

Farron threw a long, pale arm across Erica’s broad shoulders. “At least you hooked up with me. I’ve been in Hidden Oakes since I was two. Nobody knows this place better than I do.” Farron was one of the few people who could say they had lived in Hidden Oakes since childhood. Erica had learned that most of the other residents moved in and out with the change of seasons--or so it seemed, after Erica had talked to a few of the kids at school about how many places they had lived and how long they usually stayed. Farron turned into her driveway lined with azaleas and goldenrods. She had told Erica that her grandmother had planted them years ago because they were beautiful, yet easy to take care of. “She knew my mom and dad would never take the time to look after plants--heck, they barely look after me,” she had told Erica one night as they sat on the front steps of Erica’s house.

“I’ll see you at seven,” Farron called before skipping around to the back of the two-story colonial house.

Erica walked past the next two houses and across the street and let herself into the huge Tudor house her mom had just bought for the two of them. Things sure had changed over the past few weeks. Just last month, they were living in a small, two bedroom house that was in better shape than any of the neighbor’s houses and now they were living in an immaculate neighborhood in a house with four bedrooms just for the two of them. Erica noticed the light on the answering machine blinking as she dropped her book-bag by the desk in the kitchen. She pushed the play button, walked across the kitchen, and pulled a glass from the cabinet.

Blaire’s voice crackled from the answering machine. “Hi, hun. I’ll be a little late tonight, but I’ll try to be home before you leave--you know how it is! There’s chicken salad in the fridge. Love ya! Oh, I’ll probably be in a meeting when you get home until around six.” Beep.

Erica poured a Coke and dropped onto the floral couch in the den. “Story of my life,” she muttered to herself since her mom had worked almost non-stop since her dad left. In some ways she missed her mom, but most of the time she understood why her mom worked so hard. Looking around the massive kitchen, Erica knew her mom had come a long way from her years as a waitress at the truck stop near their old house. Blaire had given up waiting tables when Erica was eight, but trying to get ahead in the advertising business and stay there took a lot of time.

At seven o’clock, Erica watched through the living room window as Farron bounded up the steps two at a time. Without waiting for the bell to ring, Erica opened the door and pulled Farron inside. She gave a backwards glance to the house across the street where she saw old Mrs. Banks slip behind the curtain.