First Frost (3 page)

Nothing. Well…that sucks.

Bianca stuck her tongue out at her black laptop and gave it a raspberry, as though it were the machine’s fault she had a weak social life. It wasn’t her fault she was invisible and socially inept at school. She suffered from
foot-in-mouth-itis
…always said the wrong thing at the wrong time. She made jokes that only
she
thought were funny. It got to the point she was forced to become quiet, withdrawn, and introverted. Her hobbies were solitary ones, like reading, drawing, and photography. For some reason, she never did well in team sports or crafts that involved other people.

She spent all of her time at the museum or hanging out with her best friend, Ming. She didn’t have time to go to any of the football games or be part of any afterschool programs. Ming and her mother seemed to be the only people on Earth who understood her.

She heard her cell phone buzz—a text message from Ming.

Wanna come over 2nite? New DVD’s! J

Bianca texted her back:

Sure. Having dinner in a few. What DVD’s?

She pressed send, and the second she set her phone down, it buzzed again.

30 Rock & Glee!

“Sweet,” Bianca whispered.

Cool. Will b there in 1 hr.

Bianca went downstairs and kept her mom company in the kitchen. She sat down on a wooden stool and watched her cook. Rose wasn’t the best chef, but at least she wasn’t the worst. Everything she cooked was edible, and
edible
was the complimentary word as far as Bianca was concerned.

The kitchen was a mishmash of all of Rose’s favorite things. Anytime they traveled Rose bought a tile or other knickknacks to place somewhere in the kitchen. There was the Picasso wind chime that was made entirely out of colored glass; it was something she bought in Spain before Bianca was born. All of the tiles were placed as a backsplash behind the stove. Some of them had the state flag, flower, or animal. Some were tiles hand painted by local artists. This was the most colorful room in the entire house, and it was easily one of Bianca’s favorite places to be.

Rose drained the excess water out of the farfalle-shaped pasta using the colander. They were Rose’s favorite for some reason Bianca had never understood. Rose then transferred the pasta back into the pot and emptied an entire can of pasta sauce onto the steaming noodles. The steam curled and evanesced as it rose up to greet the ceiling.

“How much do you want?” Rose asked.

“Not much.” Bianca hopped off the stool and grabbed some plates from the cabinet.

“Thanks.” Rose took the plates from her daughter’s hands.

“What do you want to drink?” Bianca opened the refrigerator and searched for a beverage among the shelves. Their choices were water, cranberry juice, and Diet Coke.

“Water, please,” Rose replied as she placed their plates on the dining table.

Bianca grabbed two glasses and filled them both with water. She sat down and joined her mother for a simple meal.

“Don’t forget the forks,” Rose said.

“Got ’em.” Bianca grabbed a pair of forks from the kitchen drawer.

“
Bon appétit,
” Rose said in a fake French accent.

Bianca smiled and shook her head. “Yes,
bon appétit,
Mom.”

During dinner Bianca asked, “Is it okay if I go to Ming’s house for a while?”

“Yeah, sure. Are you going to spend the night?”

“Nah, we’re just going to watch TV.”

“Ooh, what are you going to watch?”

“She texted me earlier and said she had
Glee
and
30 Rock
. So we’re probably going to watch that.”

“I love Tina Fey. She’s so funny.”

Bianca nodded in agreement. If there was one thing they shared, it was their quirky sense of humor, which cemented the fact that Bianca was in fact her child. Bianca looked exactly like her father: Jet black hair, ice blue eyes, and his stubborn jaw. David had had more of a dry, sarcastic sense of humor, while Rose and Bianca enjoyed slapstick, physical comedy. If someone was falling down or getting pies thrown on their face, it was a sure way of getting them to laugh.

“Back by ten thirty?” Rose asked.

“You know it.”

Rose stood up and kissed the top of Bianca’s head. “Just leave your plate on the table. I’ll take care of the dishes,” Rose said as she put her plate in the sink.

Score! Less chores for me
.

She stabbed every bit of her pasta with her fork and stuffed in her mouth. She chewed as fast as she could and ran upstairs to get her purse.

“Don’t choke!” Rose warned.

“Thanks, Mom. I’ll see you later!” she shouted with food still in her mouth.

“I love you, kiddo.”

“Love you too.”

“Drive safe!” Rose said as she followed Bianca as far as the front door.

Bianca waved goodbye to Rose before she got into her old white VW Beetle and pulled out of the driveway.

Bianca knocked on Ming’s brick red door and waited. Mrs. Lee opened the door with a smile on her face. Bianca smiled back; it was impossible not to. She was such a pleasant woman. Her good mood was highly infectious. She could make the nastiest people cheer up. Bianca knew because she had witnessed such miracles firsthand. Her blue-black hair was tied into a loose ponytail. Her dark brown eyes crinkled as she welcomed her daughter’s oldest and dearest friend.

“Hello, Bianca. How are you?” Her voice was a notch above a whisper. Bianca was amazed she had given birth to Ming, who was the exact opposite of her soft-spoken mother. Ming was loud, honest, and a huge smartass.

“Hello, Mrs. Lee. I’m well, yourself?”

“Busy. Come in. Ming is waiting for you upstairs in her bedroom.”

Bianca stepped inside the house and promptly took off her sneakers. She put on the pink fluffy slippers that waited for her by the stairs and went upstairs as fast as she could. Ming’s cotton candy pink door was wide open. She was sitting on her bed, painting her toenails in a pale sparkly pink nail polish.

“Knock, knock.”

“Hi! Come on in,” Ming said.

Bianca stepped into Ming’s pink bedroom and breathed in some of the nail polish fumes that surrounded them. Her best friend was obsessed with the color. Bianca’s tastes weren’t quite so girly. She favored darker colors like sapphire and dark purple. And while Ming loved pop music and anything that played on MTV, Bianca liked indie music and classic punk rock.

“So, how was work?” Ming asked.

“Same as usual, although…Mom finally agreed to buy a new vacuum cleaner, so that’s kind of a plus.”

Ming arched her right eyebrow. “How…
exciting
for you…I guess.”

“Oh, shut up.” Bianca playfully smacked Ming on her arm. “You’ve never had to do any kind of physical labor in your life, so don’t even pretend you know what my day was like.”

Ming laughed in response to Bianca’s choice of words. She wasn’t going to argue; the truth was undeniable. She was a little princess. Her father was a surgeon at the local hospital. He had crazy hours at work, which meant he didn’t get to spend as much time at home with Ming and her mother. He made up for that by buying them whatever they wanted. Sometimes Bianca wondered if Ming would rather spend time with her father instead of getting a bunch of stuff. But she knew better than to express her opinion out loud.

“I wish she’d let me work there and help you guys out. At least we’d be able to hang out more.” She pouted as she tucked her black hair behind her ears.

“Yeah, me too. But you know Mom’s rule. Family only.”

“That’s lame. The museum is huge. I don’t know how the two of you do it all alone.”

Bianca shrugged. It had become routine. They did things so well together that running the museum was a well-oiled machine. At least it was summer, and she could help out full-time. During the school year, Rose did everything on her own, and Bianca could only help out on Saturdays. It was safe to say that Rose looked forward to summer far more than just for warmer weather and the chance to wear cheap flip-flops.

“Anyway, what are we watching tonight?” Bianca asked.

Ming blew air on her toes before answering Bianca’s question. She closed her nail polish and placed it on her night table.

“
30 Rock
Season Four. DVD is already in the player,” she replied.

“Awesome. I stopped at the pharmacy on my way here and bought candy.”

“Ooh, what did you bring?” Ming picked up the remote control and pushed the PLAY button.

“Milky Way, licorice, and Sour Patch Kids.”

“Sweet!” Ming smiled.

For three hours, Bianca and Ming watched TV, laughed, quoted Liz Lemon to each other, and ate candy. Life was simple at that moment. Life was, for lack of a better word, perfect.

Chapter Three

“What time is it?” Bianca asked.

“Ten o’clock,” Ming replied and then took a bite off of a string of licorice.

“As soon as this episode is finished, I gotta go home.”

“Why don’t you spend the night? The museum is closed tomorrow.”

Ming had a point. They could go see a movie at the theater and then go to the mall to spend Bianca’s meager earnings on things she didn’t need.

“Nah. I promised Mom I’d be back by ten-thirty. Besides, I feel like sleeping in my own bed tonight.”

“Fair enough.” Ming shrugged.

As soon as the episode was finished, Bianca gathered her things.

“Good night,” Bianca said as they gave each other quick hugs.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Ming promised.

“Okay.” Bianca walked out of the Lee’s home and remembered to lock the front door behind her.

It was a cool night. She looked up at the stellar view above her. The sky was midnight blue, and the stars twinkled and shimmered above her. When had she stopped gazing at the stars with amazement? When had she become cynical about the world? When had life become so completely…
blah
? She shrugged her shoulders and saved those thoughts for another time. All she wanted was to go home and sleep.

She unlocked the door of her car, sat on the driver’s seat, and started the engine. Her hand touched the clutch; she was just about to change gears when for some reason she stopped herself. She frowned before putting the car in reverse. A strange feeling spread out from the bottom of her stomach, as though something were horribly and terribly wrong. She shook her head and pulled out of the driveway.

Even though she knew Rose would yell at her if she found out she was calling while driving, she pulled out her cell phone and called home. With one hand on the steering wheel and the other gripping the cell phone, she waited as the phone rang.

Something isn’t right.
Rose
always
answered after one ring. It rarely ever went to voicemail, but that was exactly what happened. After impatiently listening to the automatic female operator, she left her mother a message.

“Mom? Are you okay? I’m on my way home. Call me.”

She pressed the END button and tossed the phone on the passenger seat. She wove in and out of traffic and stopped at all the stop signs and traffic lights, even though what she really wanted to do was push her crappy little Beetle as fast as it could go. The feelings of unease continued until she parked the car in front of her house. The lights were on, but there was no visible movement coming from behind the curtain in the living room. Rose always waited by the window with a cup of green tea when Bianca was due back home.

What if there’s a robber or something inside the house?

She didn’t know whether to go inside or call the police first.

But what if someone was attacking her mother at that moment? What if she could stop something terrible from happening by simply opening the door and spooking the attacker away?