Carol nodded. “You can take your stuff up to your room. It’s the third door on the right upstairs.”
I was clearly dismissed, but I nodded in gratitude. “I’ll happily pay for the room. Let me know what it costs.”
Carol leaned back in her seat. “Oh, for you, I'm sure we can come up with a special deal. How about eight hundred a month?”
Marissa flinched but said nothing. That was high for a room.
I blanched. I couldn’t afford that for long, but this was my chance. I nodded. I only needed to stay a few months.
“See you tomorrow.”
I then leaned over to Marissa. She looked up at me, her greeneyes panicked. “We’ve got this,” I winked. “Team . . .” I waited for her to fill in the blank.
“Sprinkles?” She smiled.
“How about sprinkles and raisins?”
“Gross.” Her nose scrunched.
“Alright, we’ll workshop it in the morning.” I nodded to Carol. Her eyes flashed between Marissa and I. “Thanks again, Mrs. Andrews. I can see myself to my room.”
I made my way back to the house and stepped through the front door of the bed-and-breakfast. The place smelled like baked bread and lemons. The floors were scratched and dinged. They would need a good refinishing. Several light bulbs needed replacing, and some sort of wiring was stapled along the wall. That would need to be addressed. The peeling wallpaper showcased an unfortunate array of previous patterns beneath it.
The wall hugging the stairs had several spots where the sheetrock needed patching, and the creaking boards of the staircase announced my presence. The carpet was threadbare on the edges of the stairs and you could see the strings underneath. At the top of the stairs, I turned and headed to my room. I passed two rooms on the right with updated windows and furnishings and wondered what my room would look like.
The knob on the door was bulky and metal and ancient, the type that would require a large metal key to lock. I pushed the door open, and it didn’t budge. I was positive this was the room. I leaned into it with my shoulder and pushed. The door gave way and scraped along the floor in an arc.
Might need to work on rehanging that.
There was one bed in the middle of the room with a pink flower comforter and an iron bed frame. A small used-to-be white dresser stood in the corner, and the drawers stuck as I tugged on them. An old particle board nightstand to the left of the bed held a small lamp and a notebook.
I sat and the bed squeaked in protest, dust fluffing upfrom the mattress. Were all the rooms this rough, or was this a special present just for me? It was obvious Carol did not want me here—or to feel welcome.
This would not be easy.
I was no stranger to hard work or the complications that came with older houses. My parents home was full of problems, and often weekends were spent working on the house. I could start with this room. If I fixed it up, it would ease my guilty conscience, and I was sure the future client would appreciate it as well.
I set my small suitcase on the bed and changed into basketball shorts and a t-shirt before heading back for the stairs. There was a small shop-type building I passed on my way to the house. Maybe I would find some tools there.
I stepped out the front door and heard voices and a basketball bouncing. Sounded like the group of boys were back. I could take this chance to apologize. I walked over to the parking lot and watched from a distance as five boys passed, dribbled, and shot the ball through a makeshift hoop with maple tree branches. The oldest picked up the ball. He was the protector from earlier, and the leader, as the others followed him everywhere he went and mimicked his every move.
“I bet once you show them this trick, they’ll for sure let you play at recess.” The older boy tried to bounce the ball between his legs, but it hit his shoe and rolled off in the opposite direction.
“Oh yeah, they’ll definitely start picking me first now.” The blond boy with a skinny frame and glasses folded his arms.
“Shut up. I watched a video on YouTube; I can get it. Let me try again.” The oldest boy jogged after the ball.
The smallest boy, who looked to be around seven, sat on the sidewalk and put his chin on his fist. “At least they picked you. They pretended like I wasn’t even standing there last time. I have the worst luck.”
It was like watching flashbacks of elementary school. Being picked last, or not at all. Hiding by a tree alone, pretending it wasby choice. My tall awkward frame, glasses, and too big shoes didn’t help either. Especially when I stood beside Michael. My twin had the confidence I lacked in social settings. The oldest boy tried bouncing the ball between his legs again and it hit his shoe.
These weren’t the jerks who made fun of me in school, they were me. I was ashamed of how I treated them before and was full of determination to help them succeed and be on their team. I was excited to work with them for the trunk-or-treat. It would be the perfect way to get to know them.
The blond with holes in his striped shirt picked up a rock and chucked it. “I don’t even care. Basketball is stupid anyway.”
The older boy tried to bounce the ball between his legs, bouncing it off his foot again, rolling in my direction.
I stepped out from the trees. No time like the present.
