She wasn’t pretty, nobody was going to argue with that. His mother would have called her intriguing, and his brothers would have called her weird, but somehow she didn’t strike him as the kind of girl who gave great merit to what other people thought.
Her long, arrow-straight hair had been dyed a bright crimson that defied nature. Black roots were starting to show, though, giving her an interesting, almost skunk-like appearance.She wore dark sunglasses and a mocking half-smile, radiating heated self-assurance to the point where he was sure it burned those around her.
Various articles of furniture sat before her on the lawn; nice stuff, her parents obviously had money. She watched the movers with detached awareness, and she seemed to regard those who spoke to her in the same way. He ventured closer to the doorway of the treehouse to get a closer look at her, and had been crouching there a moment when she happened to look up and see him craning his neck; he was caught.
Realizing she had seen him, the boy colored, ran a hand through his tangled, shoulder-length blond hair, jumped down from the treehouse, and headed over to her. “Hi,” he said, suddenly shy.
“Hello,” she said. Her voice took on a tone of what he thought to be amusement, but the hateful sunglasses obscured her eyes and the smirk remained the same.She waited for him to speak, and he racked his brain for something to say, for some explanation of why he was standing in front of her.
He hated silence more than anything. Millions of fans, screaming and shrieking and ripping at his eardrums until he couldn’t hear the words he was trying so desperately to get out were not as abhorrent as this soundlessness that deafened him now. “Are- are you moving in?” he managed lamely, finally.
The girl threw her head back and laughed, almost maniacally. “God help me,” she responded, with a condescending smile.”I’m getting the hell out of this hick town, before it completely sucks the life out of me.”
He shifted his weight, uncomfortable; he liked Tulsa.”I’m Taylor,” he told her.
“I know.” Oh, right. He forgot sometimes that everyone knew.
“Might you have a name?”
She pulled the enormous, white-framed sunglasses down to the bridge of her nose and looked over them at him with eyes the color of his sister Jessie’s peridot earrings, studying his face. “Kath,” she said, at length.
Taylor assumed he had passed whatever test had been administered, and relaxed a little, sticking his hands in his pockets and rocking back on the heels of his Doc Martin’s. “So, where are you moving to?”
The sunglasses were replaced, as was the half-smile. “Some army base near Portland.”
“Oregon?”
He was expecting a zinger in return, and braced himself, but Kath simply nodded, then shrugged dismissively. Taylor tried again, clueless as to why he was so hell bent on getting this stranger talking. “You’re an army brat, huh?”
She wrinkled her small nose. “I hate that term. But yes, essentially. My father’s a...actually, I don’t know what the hell my father does.”
Taylor laughed.”The nameless job, huh? I know what that’s like.” He pulled his hair off his neck, securing it with the black rubber band he had around his wrist. “We moved to South America for a few years when I was younger, ‘cause my dad got transferred.”
Kath nodded. “I’ve never been to South America, actually. Just the States and Europe.”
Tay was interested. “Yeah? Where in Europe?”
“England-Liverpool, home of John, Paul, George, and Ringo, Bordeaux, in France, um, Romania, for six months when I was ten.” Kath shuddered in a gesture of the only real emotion Taylor had seen from her. “If you can help it, never go to Romania. Oh, where else? Moscow...everywhere else has just been random cities in the U.S.”
Taylor smiled. “That’s really cool.”
“I guess.” Kath was silent for a few moments, then stood up. “Do you want to go for a walk?”
“Where?” asked Taylor. There weren’t many places to walk to in that neighborhood of Tulsa; it was almost completely residential, with a struggling Dairy Mart here and there. The nearest shopping area was almost twenty minutes away on rollerblades.
“Anywhere but here.” Taylor hesitated for a moment, and Kath grew impatient. “Yes or no?” Her voice had an edge to it.
“Yeah, okay.”
“Good.” Kath strolled over to one of the movers, a burly guy carrying a television set, and tapped him on the shoulder. “Tell my parents I went off with some random guy who came up to me.” She paused for a moment, and Taylor looked at her, entertained. Kath continued. “And tell them he looked dangerous.”
She smiled demurely at the man, then turned to Taylor. “Let’s go.” He nodded, unable to stop the grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“What?” she asked, as they turned onto Seventy-Seventh Street.
“Nothing. That was just really funny.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
Kath seemed to accept this, and didn’t respond. If she knew how uncomfortable the silence made her traveling companion, she gave no indication, and made no attempt to restart conversation.
“How long have you lived in Tulsa?” he questioned. Not his best, but anything to get some words out there.
“Um...thirteen months, I think. It’s April now? Then yeah, thirteen months.”
“I’ve never seen you around.”
“Likewise. I didn’t know anyone lived in your house until a few months ago.”
Taylor blushed, embarrassed but not sure why.
Kath looked at him. “How long have you lived here?”
“My whole life. Well, except for the two years in Trinidad.”
“And you’re happy here?” she asked skeptically.
“Yeah! I mean, it’s not as glamourous as Liverpool or anything, but it’s home.”
Kath shrugged bemusedly. “If you say so.”
They walked along quietly for awhile longer, eventually coming to the park that sat where 77th intersected with Gedney Way. If you could call it a park, that is- a few lonely swings hung over some mulch, next to a metal slide that froze the unsuspecting bottoms of youngsters in the winter months, and scorched them in the summer.
A slow smile spread across Kath’s face, and she made herself comfortable on the rubber seat of the closest swing. Taylor sat down next to her. “So, are you going to spend your whole life in the music business?” she asked suddenly, kicking the ground lacksidasically.
Taylor was astonished; her question had caught him completely off-guard. “Hopefully,” he answered with a smile. “I love it.” Kath nodded. “What about you?” Taylor asked. “What do you want to do?”
“Like, with my life?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. Forensic pathology.”
Taylor blinked. “Forensic...you want to be a coroner?”
“Is that a problem?” Kath asked defensively.
“Wha...no, not at all. It’s just, uh, not a job I’ve heard many people say they’ve wanted.”
Amusement danced in Kath’s voice: “You’ll notice I’m not like many people, Taylor.”
He shook his head, grinning at this amazing wacko. “I guess not.”
Kath opened her mouth to say something else, but was cut off by the frantic honking of a horn. Turning in the direction of the sound, he recognized the gray Volvo station wagon that had been sitting in the driveway of Kath’s house. Its young, female driver rolled down the window: “Kathrynne Louisa Madris, get over here! Mom and Dad are having a canary; why didn’t you tell anyone where you were going?”
“It’s my warden,” Kath informed Tay, in a voice so loud as to make sure the driver of the car could hear; she did and made a face. Kath turned to her. “I told the nice mover; I guess that’s what I get for putting myself on the mercy of strangers.”
The woman closed her eyes. “Yes, Kath. Either way, if you ever want to see the light of day again, I suggest you get your ass in this car.”
Heaving a noisy, theatrical sigh, Kath got off the bench.”Farewell, Taylor.”
He smiled. “Have fun in Oregon. I’ll see you around.” She had reached the passenger door of the Volvo when Tay yelled her name, and Kath turned around.
“Yeah?”
“Are you for real?”
Kathrynne Louisa Madris threw her head back and laughed once again. “About as real as you are, Taylor Hanson.”
Tay mulled that over as the station wagon pulled out into the street.
