Chapter 13: Crash and Burn

I couldn’t explain why, but I suddenly felt anger stir in my chest. A part of me wanted to call my mother back and shame her for abandoning me to be with some man she just met.

I stomped into the kitchen and began pulling open the cabinets, searching for something to make for supper, but unfortunately for me, my mother wasn’t fond of boxed or processed foods. Nearly everything in our house had to be made from scratch.

Frustrated, I slammed the cabinets shut and was about to give in and dine on some cheese and crackers when I remembered my new scooter sat in the garage. Though I wasn’t fond of being seen on it, I had to get out of the house.

I went into the entryway where my mother had hung my keys to the scooter, and as I lifted the keys from the hook, I noticed that my mother had personalized my keychain. She must have had it custom made because Dharma wasn’t a common name.

My anger began to falter, and for a moment, I thought I would burst into tears.

“I need to clear my head,” I told myself as I dabbed my eyes and exited the house.

My scooter had come complete with a matching blue helmet with white racing stripes. I adjusted the chin strap, then hopped into the seat and expertly primed the engine.

As I began to cruise at low speeds down the road, I felt my anger finally dissipate and was finally able to analyze my feelings.

I should have been happy that my mother was out enjoying herself. It wasn’t like she was cheating on my dad; she’d lived up to her vows until death parted her from him.

I was so deep in thought that I didn’t notice a pothole until it was too late. I turned my front wheel to pivot, but my tires spun, and I was sent tumbling onto the nearby sidewalk.

Next to me, the motor on my bike died as I lay there stunned, staring at the spinning sky.

Suddenly, a friendly face came into view. Though my vision was askew, I recognized Toby from Conners’ Market.

“Dharma? Are you all right?”

I shook my head, hoping the movement would bring my vision into focus, but Toby misunderstood the gesture. “Don’t move,” he commanded. “I’ll call an ambulance.”

“I don’t need an ambulance,” I said, propping myself up onto my elbows. “I just need the world to quit rotating for a minute.”

“If that happens, then we are all doomed,” he pointed out. “Allow me to help you up,” he said as he squatted beside me and supported my back while I eased into a sitting position.

I reached up and unstrapped my helmet from my head. I tossed it aside into the grass next to me and began to bend my neck, which felt stiff.

As I did, I caught the glance of a woman sitting on the porch of her home across the street. She waved a little boy back inside from where he was rolling up and down the sidewalk on a tricycle.

The woman’s eyes moved disapprovingly from me to my scooter before she closed the door behind herself.

~Great, now the locals think I’m a danger to the neighborhood.~

“That was quite a tumble you took,” Toby said after a few moments, drawing my attention back to him. “Are you sure you don’t need a doctor?”

I did a quick evaluation, first rotating my shoulders, then my wrists and my ankles. Once I’d determined my joints were in working order, I turned my attention to my minor wounds.

There were some scrapes on my knees and elbows, and the left side of my buttocks was sore.

“I seem to be in working condition,” I managed, feeling sheepish.

“Do you think you can stand?” Toby asked as he offered me a hand.

“Thank you,” I mumbled as I took it and pulled myself up.

Toby hurried to recover my helmet from where I had abandoned it and handed it to me. I took it gratefully, then moved to retrieve my bike.

“Wait,” he intervened, gently pushing me aside. “Let me get that for you.”

Once my scooter was upright, I thanked Toby again and seized the handlebars. I was preparing to straddle the seat when he stopped me once more.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asked. “Those things can be tricky to ride. I wiped out the first time I rode one.”

Feeling slightly annoyed, I gritted my teeth. “This isn’t my first time. I was just preoccupied and didn’t notice the pothole.”

I immediately regretted my tone when Toby gave me a sympathetic look. “There was a traffic cone stationed here. One of the neighborhood kids must have taken it.”

“What could they possibly want with a traffic cone?”

“Actually, you can repurpose traffic cones for tons of things,” Toby said. “You can use them to decorate your room, you can stuff a stick in them and pretend you are fighting in a medieval joust, and if you are particularly crafty, you can construct one into a bong.”

I raised my brow. “You sound like you are speaking from experience.”

“I was a kid once,” Toby said with a shrug, then he gazed down at my knees. “And you are bleeding.”

I glanced down and saw that he was right; blood was dripping down my right shin, and my white canvas sneakers were already stained with rusty droplets.

“Damn it,” I cursed under my breath.

“I have a first aid kit in my truck,” Toby offered. “Why don’t you use it to clean up while I give you a ride home?”

Exhausted from my little fender bender, I nodded and began to push my scooter around Toby’s truck as he lowered his tailgate.

I started to help him load the scooter into his truck bed, but to my surprise, he lifted it easily on his own and carefully laid it on its side.

“You are stronger than you look,” I said, sounding as impressed as I felt.

Toby chuckled. “I’m built like a wire hanger—thin, but tough,” he joked as he latched his tailgate and began to move to the driver’s side. “Go ahead,” he prompted me. “Hop in.”

In no position to argue, I slid into the passenger’s side of his truck.

“Where were you heading before your accident?” he asked as he revved the truck’s engine.

“To the burger shack,” I told him. “My mother is going to be late, so I was just on my way to get some supper.”

“Well, let’s go get you something to eat. We can go to The Burger Shack and patch you up at one of the picnic tables,” he said, already doing a U-turn in the street so the truck was pointed in the direction of town.

“I don’t think other people want to look at my oozing wounds as they eat…,” I said, wrinkling my nose.

“It’s a weekday. The place will be dead.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m positive,” he said.

Minutes later, he turned off the main road and parked in the deserted parking lot of The Burger Shack. He was right; there was almost nobody around.

“Wow, I really thought this place would be busier,” I remarked as I exited the truck.

I stood aside while he reached behind his seat and retrieved an emergency aid kit. With his kit in hand, he escorted me to a nearby picnic table, where he insisted on dressing my wounds.

“I could have done that myself,” I said, though as I gazed down at the dressings, I doubted I would have done a better job. “But I have to admit, you do nice work.”

“I was a boy scout,” he explained.

“Aw!” I gushed. “You must have looked so cute in your little sash and badges.”

“I was cute,” he said confidently. “Until I got older and was forced to join the eagle scouts, which required me to wear my uniform to school.”

“No!” I gasped. “Personally, I don’t see a problem with it, but other kids can be so mean.”

“They were pretty hard on me. Though I did like the scouts, I was glad when my parents let me quit.”

“That’s too bad,” I commented and was about to offer my condolences when the sign above the burger shack began to flash. “Why is the sign doing that?”

“It’s the last call to order food,” Toby announced, standing. “What do you want?”

“Just a regular old burger and some fries,” I told him as I reached for my billfold and began extracting money.

“I’ll get it,” Toby said with a dismissive wave. Before I had a chance to insist, he walked over to the window and began to order. A few moments later, he returned with our food.

“That was quick,” I commented.

“Fair warning,” Toby said, “my best friend Mark used to work here, and he said at the end of the night, they would just make a stack of burgers and toss them in the warmer.”

“I’m a beggar, not a chooser,” I quipped.

“I didn’t know what flavor of shake you would want, so I got one chocolate and one vanilla. I figured I would let you choose.”

“Vanilla,” I answered without any hesitation.

“Interesting choice,” he said, offering me the vanilla shake.

“Why is it interesting?” I baited him. “Is it because vanilla flavors are boring?”

“No, I figured someone would have let you know by now that the chocolate shakes here are the best in the state,” he revealed. “It’s usually the first thing we tell newcomers.”

“I changed my mind,” I said stubbornly, offering him my cup. “I want the chocolate.”

Toby grinned and traded shakes with me.

We sat side by side, eating our stale burgers in silence as we watched the sunset, and for the first time since our move, I felt content.

I was so at ease that I was hardly annoyed when I noticed some of the restaurant’s employees gawking at us from the window.