“I guess it
is
your turn since I was with him last night,” Mary giggled, along with several of her cheerleader cronies. Presley stopped walking for a brief moment stunned by Mary’s comment, and then she rolled her eyes, refusing to give them a dramatic reaction.
“Mary, I’m just curious, do they teach all of you the same obnoxious voice at cheerleading camp?” Presley smirked as she pointed her finger at the group. She got into her old, used red Pontiac and drove way. Instantly, random thoughts began to flood her mind. She talked to herself, as she often did when trying to problem solve, “Was Tyler really with Mary last night? He sent me a text message that said he was at home and he had to study for a test in history. Was he lying? Why would he lie? If he didn’t want to be with me then he wouldn’t be. Right? He could have any girl in the school. Why is he with me? I’m not a cheerleader and I’m not even popular. It can’t be true. If he wanted to date Mary wouldn’t he break it off with me first? I can’t stand those stupid girls. It’s like their sole purpose in life is to cut people down. Okay, Presley, you have to stop over analyzing this.”
Presley stopped at a red light, and as she looked to her right she noticed a car full of girls watching her as she talked to herself. Embarrassed, she slowly raised her cell phone to her ear hoping that they would believe that she had been having an intense conversation on her cell rather than with herself.
Presley had always lacked self-esteem. She was beginning to realize that Tyler might be bringing her confidence level down even lower, if possible. Her heart was conflicted because she loved him and wanted so badly to be with him, but internally she felt something was amiss in their relationship. She turned up her radio loudly in attempt to drown out her unrelenting intrusive thoughts.
Presley turned onto her gravel road and crept behind a 4440 John Deere tractor until finally reaching her driveway. She lived in an old farmhouse that was left to her mom, Lisa, when her paternal grandparents had passed away. Presley had moved there with her mom when she was ten. Before that they were shuffled around from one dirty apartment to another. One year, she and her mom had moved six times. Her mom had a hard time keeping a job because of her alcohol addiction and they got evicted when her mom couldn’t pay the rent. Although she was sad that her grandparents had passed away she was also thankful that she now had a place to call home.
Presley’s grandfather had been a well-known farmer in the community, and one of the few farmers that didn’t go bankrupt during the farm crisis in the eighties. Presley’s grandmother was the brains behind the scene. She was a smart investor and they very rarely ever bought anything on credit. So between the house and farm land and a substantial inheritance, Presley’s mother didn’t have to work. This allowed her the freedom to be totally irresponsible and enabled her to conveniently ignore any situation that would hold her accountable.
Lisa leased out some of her land to local farmers which brought in a considerable amount of money after harvest. Presley’s mom went through money like it was never going to run out.
Presley’s father died when she was two. Missouri had several severe storms that year; and Presley was told that a tornado had ended her father’s life that dreadful night. Even though Presley had never actually seen a tornado, she was absolutely petrified of them. Strong thunderstorms even frightened her for that matter. She kept a small picture of her father on her nightstand. He was a handsome man and she often wondered how her life would have been different if he hadn’t passed away. After her father’s death her mother started drinking heavily. She partied all the time and Presley rarely ever saw her mother sober. When she wasn’t drunk, she was hung over. Presley made an unspoken promise to herself that she wouldn’t end up like her mother and she vowed never to drink. She was embarrassed and ashamed, and she wished for many years that her mother would stop drinking. She finally gave up on that wish.
≈≈≈≈≈
Presley never really fit in with anyone at school. She felt like an outcast. Cheerleading didn’t interest her in the least and she wasn’t at all competitive, so sports were out of the question. Presley was a song writer, and she felt that there wasn’t a course in school that would encourage that. Presley’s passion was writing poems and lyrics, and of course, playing her guitar. She always kept her song book with her so she could write whenever she needed to. When she got inspired by a feeling she would translate the emotion into words that she would then form into a song. Although she would sing in front of Samantha and Tyler, the songs she wrote were strictly for her only. She had never trusted anyone enough to share her most vulnerable feelings and thoughts. Not even Tyler.
When Presley got home she sluggishly sat on the couch, picked up her Martin guitar and strummed it softly. As she quietly hummed a promising sad tune; her mind obsessively focused on Tyler again. She took her song book from her back pocket and jotted down a few lines when her cell phone rang, interrupting her free flowing thoughts. Frustrated, she answered.
“Hello,” Presley said.
“Hey, I’m almost to your house. Do you know what Tyler and Ryan have planned for tonight?” Samantha asked.
“Not a clue,”
“Okay, see you in a minute.”
“Bye." Presley hung up her phone and took her guitar upstairs to her bedroom. She debated asking Tyler about Mary’s remark. Once again, Presley began talking out loud to herself.
“Maybe I won’t bother him with it tonight. If I do, he’ll probably just get mad at me and it will end up ruining our night—and our relationship.” She walked over to the mirror above her vanity to finish the conversation, “On the other hand, if I don’t bring it up then this will eat me up until I do. Maybe I’ll wait until the weekend is over,” she decided.
The front door flew open and then loudly slammed shut.
“Hey Pres, you have anything to eat?” yelled Samantha from the kitchen.
“Yeah, left over pizza, supreme. It’s in the fridge!” Presley shouted back.
Samantha came from an upper middle class family. She was spoiled in a sense but sweet and she cared deeply for Presley. At times she appeared selfish, only because she was used to getting her way. Some might say that her parents were overly protective. And anything Samantha wanted, they made sure she had. She wore only designer clothes, always on trend. Presley was envious of her best friend.
Samantha put the pizza on a paper plate and ran upstairs. She swung Presley’s bedroom door open, flopped down on the bed and said between bites, “I hope you know that I’m staying here tonight."
“No. Really?” Presley replied sarcastically.
“Yeah, well since you don’t have a curfew and mine’s midnight, I thought….”
Presley, clearly annoyed, interrupted, “You don’t have to explain the situation, Samantha. You stay here practically every weekend and I know why. It’s because you actually have parents who have rules, they support you, and they love you. So, yeah, lucky me. I don’t have a curfew, because to have a curfew would mean that I would have a mother who actually cared about me and where I am and who I’m with. We both know that’s not the case. I can’t even remember a time when my mom has beat me home on a Friday night. I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning! I guess she made up with her loser boyfriend, Bob, again,” Presley said as she rolled her eyes.
“Presley, I’m sorry. Do you not want me to stay? Forget it. I don’t have to stay. I’ll just go home, I mean -”
“No, Sam, I’m just mad and upset
—
confused. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to jump you. It has nothing to do with you. I’m just having a really bad day." Presley looked down as she tried to fight the oncoming tears.
“What’s going on? What are you confused about?” Samantha asked empathetically.
“Well, Mary Carlson
informed me that she and Tyler were together last night, and I don’t know what to believe. What do you think? Do you think that they were together?” she sighed as she picked the green peppers off the pizza.
Samantha silently looked down, knowing that Tyler had never been faithful to any of his girlfriends, including Presley.
“You know, even if it were true—let’s say that Tyler was seeing other girls behind your back—would it change anything? I mean yeah, you’d get mad at him for a while but he always sweet talks his way out of anything so what would be the difference this time? Would you break it off with him for good?” Samantha asked softly.
“I don’t know. I would like to think that I would. I have never loved a guy this much before,” Presley confessed.
“No offense, Presley, but you wouldn’t break up with him. Or if you did, it would be for a few days and then you’d be back with him,” said Samantha.
Presley just wanted him to love her. She never thought that love or a relationship would be so hard. She had always assumed that it would be effortless, like in the movies. Presley sat down at her vanity that was actually a converted old desk she had picked up at a garage sale a few years back.
Presley diverted the conversation, “So, how are you and Ryan anyway? Anything new with you two?” she asked.
“Actually yeah,” said Samantha with a giggle, “we’re thinking about taking our relationship to the next level." Presley gently put her make-up down and turned toward Samantha.
“What do you mean next level?” Presley said with a concerned tone.
“We’ve pretty much covered all of the bases and now I think we’re ready for a home run!” she said excitedly.
“Okay, Sam, you don’t even like baseball. Has Ryan been trying to talk you into this?”
“Okay, Presley, so you are telling me that you and Tyler aren’t ever going to go that far?” Samantha questioned.
“No,” Presley said confidently. “He has mentioned it a time or two but I just tell
him
that I’m not ready.”
“Presley, they’re juniors. They will move on to someone else if they get bored with us. I mean, aren’t you curious?”
“If they want to move on because we didn’t want to go that far, then maybe they need to move on.” Both of the girls were finishing their hair and makeup when Samantha’s phone buzzed.
“Ryan just sent me a text. He said they will be here in five minutes.
Oh
! They are going to be here in
five
minutes, Presley! We have to hurry!”
≈≈≈≈≈
The girls finished getting dressed just as the guys pulled into the driveway.
“They’re here,” Samantha yelled. The girls rushed downstairs and out the door.
They climbed into Ryan’s brand new black Chevy truck; John Mellencamp was playing on the radio. Presley reluctantly kissed Tyler on the cheek.
“So, where are we going?” she asked.
“It’s right down the road. You’ll see,” he said.
Ryan went down a gravel road and then turned off onto a pitted dirt road that led to an old neglected barn Presley used to play in as a young girl. During the day it looked like a typical old run down barn, but in the darkness it took on a different appearance. It was eerie and creepy. The clouds were moving incredibly fast and the sky grew dark and gloomy, which added to the anxiety growing inside of Presley.
“Looks like it might rain,” said Ryan as they pulled up to the barn.
“Is this a joke? What are we doing here?” Sam asked.
“Oh, loosen up, Sam,” Ryan said, “There’s nothing going on in town tonight anyway. You always say you want to do something different, so here’s your something different."
They all got out of the truck and went inside. Presley looked around. There were numerous candles lit, with flames flickering against the dark wood of the barn. A large bottle of wine with four glasses lay next to several blankets which were sprawled across the dirt floor.
“Well, it looks like you two have been working hard. You know that I don’t drink. What is all this?” Presley asked in a disgruntled tone.
Tyler knew Presley didn’t drink. But he was so selfish, caring only that Presley was his designated driver, that he never asked her why she didn’t drink. His egotistical character prevented him from even thinking to ask Presley if there was a reason. Tyler never really asked her much about her life at all.
“I know you don’t drink but I thought that maybe one drink wouldn’t hurt anything. It’ll just loosen ya up,” he snickered. Presley was instantly put off by his remark. Samantha noticed Presley’s discomfort.
“You know, this creepy barn gives me an idea. Does anyone know any good ghost stories?” Samantha asked, as she tried to lighten the mood.
“Don’t you think that’s a little juvenile, Sam?” Tyler smirked.
“Sorry. I guess you have a better idea,” she snapped.
Tyler did have an idea and it had little to do with ghost stories.
“No, I don’t have any ideas—that sounds like great fun!” Tyler exclaimed with sarcastic enthusiasm. “Let’s all sit around in a circle and tell scary stories like we use to do in Boy Scouts,” his phony smile quickly turned to a frown.
“That actually sounds like a lot of fun, and I happen to know of a strange story,” suggested Presley.