The Nights Were Young Read online

  “Some of these places have been here since the wild west days,” Marie’s father said as they drove through it.

  “Cool,” Marie responded apathetically.

  Business areas of the town were located around the main attraction of Crossfalls, Lake Crossfalls. Marie gazed through her window and over the waves of it as her father drove them across a long bridge. It was the main bridge that ran across the lake and connected the business district with Crossfalls suburbia. Behind them were the shopping areas and the square; in front was suburbia and, somewhere in the vastness of those cookie-cutter neighborhoods, Marie’s new home. She couldn’t help but notice, across the lake, seemingly outcast from the rest of the town, an area of run-down buildings and rusted grain silos.

  “What is that?” Marie asked.

  Her father glanced across the lake. “What is what?”

  “Those buildings over there.”

  “That’s an old wheat mill. This used to be a farming town.”

  “What happened to it?”

  “Bad drought back in the 60’s. A lot of farmers lost their homes and left. Jay said the town was dirt poor until they built the lake, which brought in people from the cities. Apparently, now that’s the old side of Crossfalls.”

  “Who’s Jay?” Marie’s mother asked.

  “A guy I’m working with. I’ve told you about him,” her father said.

  “Oh.”

  It didn’t surprise Marie that her mother hadn’t remembered what her father said. It was rare that they ever genuinely listened to one another.

  “Do people live there, in the old Crossfalls?” Marie asked.

  “I think so, but it’s nothing special – just a bunch of trailer parks and white trash. That’s what they say at work, anyway,” her father said, shrugging his shoulders.

  Her father’s cellphone rang. By reflex, he snatched it up out of the cup holder and answered. “This is Dan.”

  And like it was often, her father was lost from any conversation with Marie and her mother to someone at the office.

  Marie was quiet.

  Her mother turned around to her and smiled. “Don’t worry, sweetie. We’re not going to live there.”

  They carried onward, into the wealthier neighborhoods of the “right” side of town, the new Crossfalls. Most of the houses were two or three stories. They were beautiful, a celebration of social status for the people that lived in them. Marie could not help but notice the yards – they were lush and green, neatly kept, with a seemingly endless string of flower bushes. For a few minutes she scanned the flowers to see if any held her favorite, lilies. Only a few of them did; it mostly roses and daisies.

  Marie rolled down her window and held her hand out under the bright sunlight. The air was cool, and it was easy to feel the changes of autumn sauntering forward into the atmosphere.

  “Marie, roll up your window please,” her mother ordered.

  “I just want some air,” Marie said. “It smells like too much leather in here.”

  “That’s what the AC is for, and get over the smell – it’s a new car, it will go away.” Marie’s mother pressed the button on her armrest that rolled up Marie’s window before she could argue further.

  Minutes dragged quietly onward, but they finally arrived at the new house.

  Her parents unpacked, and though Marie knew she should have been helping, she was immediately distracted by her reflection in the car window. She groaned when she examined her chubby stomach and hips, a trait that was amplified in the curved metal of the door. Her dirty blonde hair was in a boring pony tail, and whatever beauty was in her blue eyes was hidden by her thick-framed glasses.

  “We’ll get unpacked quicker if you help, Marie,” her father said. He reached into the backseat and picked up a box.

  “Sorry.” She grabbed the smallest box in the stack and turned around to take it in, but stopped to take another look at the house.

  It was a two story home made out of red bricks. The drive-way made a circle up onto the hill on which it stood, towering like a fortress, and in the center of the drive, fifteen feet from the front door, was a large rose bush, still no lilies. Her father’s cars were parked around it, his black Mercedes and white Bentley. Marie’s car, which her parents bought for her, was already in the garage, a grey Mustang. The house was on the edge of Lake Crossfalls; from a balcony on the second floor, one could perfectly look out over the water. It was daunting, and it made her nervous. She wasn’t sure if she belonged there, but she had no choice. Marie took a deep breath and forced herself to walk forward.

  The inside was already well furnished; the movers her father hired had done much of the work. The Wranglers’ leather couch sat in the living room, their beds were moved in, and Marie saw her mother hanging up some family photos. Her mother was a tall, skinny, pretty woman in her late forties, and Marie couldn’t help but notice how much more at home she was in their new house than Marie was. Her cashmere sweater, her jewelry, it all seemed to match perfectly with the French doors and trimmed borders along the walls.

  Her mother was modest, though whether or not it was genuine was debatable. Marie had once walked past her while wearing short shorts; the woman told Marie she was not a slut and would never leave her bedroom if she wore them again. But her mother came from a family with such expectations. Her mother’s mother had been the same, and that woman’s mother had taught her that way, too. So it seemed that was the family’s traditional behavior – overbearing mothers with great expectations, and distant fathers.

  Marie walked by her mother carrying the box.

  “What’s in that one?” her mother asked.

  “It’s just some of my stuff.”

  Marie walked up the carpet-covered staircase, past the sitting area overlooking the first floor, and then to her room at the corner of the house on the second floor.

  Marie did what she could with the room, fighting with her mother mostly on the colors. There were deep red curtains, violet bed sheets, and a black lamp on the nightstand. Her mother hated black, but Marie liked dark colors. Her books were on her desk, her clothes already neatly hung in the closet. She put the box down on her bed and looked through it, some CD’s and other things that her mother had insisted she throw out. Her parents had bought her an iPod, and they argued that her old things, like her CD player, were trash.

  Bored, she paced around the room. This was her new home, though it would be a short-lived one.

  ‘It’s going to be a long year,’ she thought. It was her senior year, her last year before moving out, going to a university, and, in her wildest hopes and dreams, becoming someone else, someone more adventurous, or someone prettier like the older girls she would see on the television. Just someone… different, different than the boring, ugly girl she saw all the time in her reflections.

  She ran her fingers over a small pile of college brochures on her desk, all from out of state. None of them was more appealing than the others, just pictures of another step in her life, one that was not optional. She would leave for a university at the end of the year; there was no doubt of it because it was her parents’ will, and their will was unbreakable.

  There was a window in the corner of the room, and through it Marie looked out onto the lake. Beyond the real lake was another “lake,” at least to Marie, a lake of other two-story and three-story homes that were part of the neighborhood. Beyond them, she could see the broken buildings and vague forms of trailers and small homes grouped together. Then, beyond them was nothing that she could see clearly, -- just the horizon and the setting sun.

  “Knock, knock,” her mother said. She entered the room with another box. “Here’s your old band stuff.”

  “You can just throw it in the closet,” Marie said. She sat on the edge of the bed.

  “You know,” her mother said, putting the box in the closet, “I think you really should try and join the band here. They won third place at a contest last year.”

  “I don’t care about conte
sts, Mom. I’m only here for a year anyway. There’s really no point.”

  “Well, okay. Huh, you brought this thing? I thought we sold it.” She picked up Marie’s guitar from the corner of the closet.

  “Hey, don’t touch that!” Marie grabbed it from her. “Of course I didn’t sell it.”

  “I don’t see why not. I never see you play it.”

  “I do – sometimes.” Marie delicately placed the guitar against her bed.

  Her mother went to the window and looked out. “It’s such a gorgeous view.” she said, waiting to see if Marie would agree, but Marie did not say anything. “They need to tear down those old buildings out there. They almost ruin it.”

  “Mom, people live over there.”

  “Well, then they should move.” She said it so nonchalantly, like it was her right to demand a good view at the expense of someone’s home. She looked away from the window and at Marie. “Are you nervous?”

  “Not really,” Marie answered, lying.

  “It’s okay if you are, honey. Going to a new school is hard for anyone.”

  “Especially their last year,” Marie said.

  “I know. I know. I feel terrible about uprooting you like that. But you know this meant so much for your father’s career. It was now or never.”

  Marie did not care about her father’s career. They were fine where they were, but the promotion meant more money, and a new car, and a bigger house – this house.

  “I know,” Marie said. “I understand.”

  “We moved during my junior year in high school, you know,” her mother said. “It wasn’t easy of course, but I made friends and the neighborhood was definitely an upgrade. You’ll be fine. Plus, this place is gorgeous.”

  Her mother patted Marie’s knee. “Just keep those grades up and you’ll get into any college you want.”

  Her mother walked to the door. “Who knows,” she said before leaving the room, “maybe you’ll meet a nice boy here.”

  III

  A week went by, enough time for Marie to settle in. Old friends were already contacting her less as they went on with their own lives and their own senior years. Marie watched a lot of television. Her father was in and out, and when he was in, he was on his cellphone. Her mother roamed around the house like a ghost, tidying things up and spending a lot of time in her bedroom sleeping or reading home decorating magazines. This was life. They had packed up their boxes, changed their surroundings, but nothing changed from the unmoving existence they led before.

  When Marie had to attend her first day at Crossfalls High School, she was excited just to finally get out of the house. The excitement was hardly enough to overcome her nerves, however.

  It was a small-town high school, set in a decades old building made of brick and steel. Everyone knew everyone, and most of the students had grown up together. From what she could tell the population was divided not among who wore what but among who had known who longer. She met a few people in her classes. Of course they were classes for students with above average grades and intellect, as the principal informed her parents. She met a few teachers who smiled and said, “Welcome to Crossfalls,” before they always left and went about their day. These people were as temporary to Marie as the fading summer. They were the same type of people she had known before, the same conversations of worthless gossip she heard at her former school, the same staring at cellphones and the same apparent lack of sincerity for what they spent their time on. Maybe it was the uprooting, and maybe her parents were to blame, but Marie hated everyone without rationality; she didn’t need rationality… she needed to go back to where she came from. This wasn’t home.

  Marie sat by herself at lunch for a few days. It was Wednesday when she skipped the food lines and went straight to her usual table in a solitary corner of the cafeteria. She sat down and pulled out her textbook to begin reading for English class. A table full of athletic boys was close to hers, and she could not help but notice the eyes of a bulky, letterman-jacket-wearing football star looking at her. She avoided eye contact at first, but a few moments of the pressure forced her to look his way. He smiled and made a kissing motion at her; his buddies laughed and punched him in the arm. Marie uncomfortably looked back to her book.

  Suddenly the chair across from her was pulled out. Marie looked up to find a girl who was short, chubby, wearing torn jeans and a tight shirt that showed off her larger than average chest. Her brown hair was back in a ponytail and she was smiling.

  “Mind if I sit down?” the girl asked.

  “Uh, sure.” Marie closed her book.

  “Thanks.” The girl dropped into the seat and leaned forward on the table. “I get really tired of those guys.”

  “What guys?”

  She pointed towards the table at the wall, not far from Marie’s. There was a group of boys sitting in the chairs around the table while some sat on the table. They seemed like what Marie’s parents would call “trouble”: baggy jeans, messy hair, shirts with graphic images of half-naked girls and blood. They were laughing and cursing, and one was even making a vulgar motion with his hand shaped in a circle.

  “Those guys,” the girl said. “They’re being nasty right now.”

  “Nasty?” Marie asked.

  “Yeah, talking about what they want to try with girls and stuff like that.” She drummed her fingers on the table and tightened her lips a little. “Some of them were talking about you.”

  “What?” Marie asked. “You mean like,” her voice lowered, “sex?”

  The girl laughed. “Oh my God I’m just kidding! They weren’t even talking about you! Relax.”

  Marie sat back. Her eyes wandered back and forth to the group of boys and down at her lunch table.

  “I’m Kate,” the girl said, extending her hand. “Kate Sanders.”

  Marie shook it. “Marie.”

  “Nice to meet you, Marie. My brother actually does think you’re hot. That’s him right there.”

  She pointed to one of the boys. He looked like her, except thin as a rail and hairier.

  “His name’s Brandon, but you can just ignore him,” Kate said. “So why do you sit alone all the time? You’re new here, right?”

  “Yes,” Marie answered. She remained quiet.

  “So…” Kate insisted. “Why do you sit alone?”

  “I guess I just don’t feel like sitting with anyone.”

  “You look like the type that likes to sit with people, though.”

  Marie shrugged.

  “Apparently not,” Kate said. “I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you eat.”

  Marie tensed up.

  “I’m never really hungry, I guess.” Marie was lying. She was constantly hungry, but even a bite of a sandwich was enough to make her think about her fat rolls that stuck out when she sat.

  “Okay…,” Kate continued, “I like your shirt.” She sounded like she was simply reaching for any type of conversation.

  Marie looked down at her purple collared shirt. Then she started analyzing the rest of her outfit. It was plain, plain jeans, plain sneakers, plain everything. “It’s not that great.”

  “Well – you look very…”

  “Boring?” Marie asked quickly.

  Kate laughed.

  “Nice. You look very nice.”

  “Stop it. I look boring.” Marie hunched over and looked down. Maybe if she was quiet enough this girl would go away and she could just eat alone like always.

  “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I’m sorry,” Kate said.

  “I’m fine.” Marie still avoided eye contact.

  “I’ve got some clothes you could try if you want.”

  “We just met,” Marie said, puzzled.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “And you’re offering me clothes.”

  “I’m not the Goodwill,” Kate said, laughing. “I’m just offering to let you borrow some if you’re tired of what you wear. Where do you live?”

  “Crossfalls Estates.”

/>   “That little rich neighborhood by the lake?” Kate asked excitedly.

  Marie sighed. It was agonizing how “uncool” she felt around this girl. “Yes,” she reluctantly answered. She should’ve said something cooler like she lived alone in a swank apartment or that she was a wandering, free spirit who lived in her car in the school parking lot.

  “Okay. Well, we’re definitely partying at your place sometime.”

  Marie laughed in surprise. “That’s never going to happen.”

  “That’s what you think,” Kate said. “Trust me, I get my way and I want to party at your house.”

  “You don’t even know me,” Marie said, folding her arms. She’d never met someone so straight forward.

  “Well then I’ll get to know you, Miss Marie,” Kate said, smiling. “And then when we’re best friends we can cause all sorts of trouble.”

  From the halls, a young man walked into the cafeteria and strolled to the table of boys where Kate’s brother was. He was tall and thin with dark, shaggy hair. His jeans were baggy and torn and he wore a white wife-beater with a plain, black jacket over it. The boys greeted him immediately at the table.

  “Finally showed up, huh?” Kate’s brother said.

  The young man punched him in the arm and laughed with the rest of them. He hopped up onto the table and sat, putting his feet in one of the chairs. He was saying something too low for Marie to hear and smiling about it, and she noticed dimples in both cheeks. His eyes were dark brown, and he had eyelashes that were longer than most girls’. He gazed around the cafeteria as if he owned it, and when his look came around to Marie, she realized she was staring at him. She turned away quickly.

  Kate noticed she was turning red.

  “What are you looking at?” she asked, turning around. “Oh. You’re looking at Travis aren’t you?”

  “Travis? Who’s that?” Marie asked, trying to play it off.

  “He’s gorgeous, right?” Kate turned around. “Travis! Come here!”

  “Kate, no!” Marie whispered.