06 | METEOR

a small body of matter from outer space that enters the earth's atmosphere, becoming incandescent as a result of friction and appearing as a streak of light.

☆

LUNA'S PLATINUM HAIR sizzles under the straightener as I flatten the mane down her back, the smell of heat protecting spray strong in the air of her room.

"So, tell me the plan again? We're not going to The Inlet tonight?" Luna asks and meets my eyes in the reflection of her vanity mirror. There are butterfly and Tinkerbell stickers scratched off it from when she was a kid; this old piece of junk, with its chipped white paint, is one of the only things Luna brought from home when we first moved out together. We're going out just the two of us tonight, our Sunday tradition.

"Nope," I say as her frizz turns to silk. "I don't want to seem desperate. Besides, I don't know when he'll be going back to work. It's literally been a day since he was put in the hospital." I hope he's okay, I think, but don't say it because Luna will rag on me for being sappy. Caroline said Ryan hasn't been discharged yet, but that's all she could tell me.

"The Inlet's only good on Fridays anyway," Luna says. "I think you'll survive not seeing him until then."

"After this weekend, I definitely need a break from dive bars." My lips twitch into a smile. "But next time I see Ryan, I'm toning down the cringey flirting. Seriously, if you see me flirt, kick me in the shin."

"Uh-huh. You say that every time you like a guy, then you end up going home with him. You really think I could get in the way of you and getting laid? You'd claw my throat out."

"Dude, I will not. Besides, going home with him after the bar doesn't seem like it's on the table. If I wanna get to know him at all, I think I need to like, ask him out first."

"What, on a date?"

"I guess so. Isn't that what normal people do when they like someone?"

"Yeah, but the guy always asks first."

"Fuck that. I don't know if he's into me—I legit can't tell. So I'm just gonna ask him out and see what happens."

"Brave. I've never seen you care so much before."

I don't know how to put it into words without sounding like a total suck. Luna doesn't get it—her relationship with Devin is exclusive but volatile, and I wouldn't exactly call it healthy. Most nights, they don't even sleep in the same bed, one of them passed out drunk on the couch after getting into a petty fight. Either that, or they're fucking like rabbits.

Luna likes it this way—the drama keeps her on her toes—but that's not what I'm looking for anymore. I've had my run-ins with toxic, all-consuming, short-lived relationships, but honestly, I've never even had a real boyfriend ever, just a series of one-night stands and whirlwind flings.

I want to find that guy who's different. Maybe Ryan won't be him. Maybe he'll never be into me. But when I think of him, a tingly feeling blossoms in my chest, and that's enough to make me want to try, just a little harder, to get to know him.

"There"—I set the straightener aside—"all done."

Luna faces the mirror and rakes her fingers through her hair. "Perfect. Finally, I don't look like a ratty mess."

"Aww, but I like your rat's nest."

Rolling her eyes with a smile, Luna heads to the other side of her room and grabs her phone off her bed. My hair is naturally straight, but I flatten it anyway to make it look softer.

"Ari," Luna says, "it's Trudy."

Two words that never fail to make my hair stand on end. Luna peeks out the window beside her bed.

"What?" I rush over to her and rip back the curtain, and my blood instantly boils.

Trudy Watson, my mother, stands next to some rusty pickup truck by the curb in a pair of dixie shorts and a dark red tank top, an outfit eerily similar to the one I'm wearing.

"Christ, what is she doing here?" I say.

Luna backs away from the window. "I don't want her anywhere near me, Aria."

"Don't worry, she's not getting in." I'll never let Trudy near Luna again, not after what she did when we were teenagers.

"Are you gonna go talk to her?" Luna asks.

I close the curtains. "Fuck, I really don't want to. But she won't leave until I come out."

Groaning, Luna turns to the mirror and swipes clear gloss over her lips. "Why can't she just leave us alone?"

"No idea."

"I don't get it. She disappeared for years after your seventeenth, and suddenly she's back again?"

"I know, I can't stand her."

I didn't even know Trudy until I was sixteen. Dad had told me about her, of course, but we both figured she'd never return to Saxondale. Until she did. Until when I was sixteen, she decided to show up out of the blue to "get to know her daughter."

Yeah, right. My life was okay until that bitch crashed into it like a fuckin' meteor.

But as much as I genuinely dislike her, my mother has a devilish charm, even on her fortieth year of life. So I know to pack ammunition—enough verbal bullets to fight off whatever she's about to hurl at me.

"Be right back," I tell Luna. "I'll go deal with her."

Outside, the afternoon sun is hot and dry on my skin. I keep my arms crossed as I trek across our lawn to the curb, where Trudy stands at attention, a cigarette pressed to her bubblegum-painted lips. Tacky.

"Jesus," she says, "what happened to your face, girl?"

Cass happened. "What are you doing here, Trudy?"

"That any way to talk to your own mother?"

"Save the bullshit. You're not my mother." I don't have one of those.

"Come on." She grins, showing off her decaying teeth. I know once upon a time, Trudy looked just like me—we have the same caramel-brown hair and eyes that match—but a combination of age and drugs haven't been her friend. When she checks out my body, I know what's coming. "You got me to thank for your good looks," Trudy says, "and that little body of yours."

"Okay, gross." I step back. "What are you doing here?"

"Look, I was cruising through the neighbourhood and thought I'd come see my girls. Luna in there?"

"Stay away from Luna. She doesn't want to see you."

"All right, Jesus. Chill out. I'm not her mother anyway. I came to see you."

"See me and do what?"

Trudy slaps the hood of her truck. "Wanna go for a cruise? Catch up a little?"

I peek inside. "There's not some guy in there, is there?"

"No, honey. Just me and my things."

The back of the truck is filled with suitcases and fast food wrappers and junk. Real nice.

But when I meet Trudy's eyes, she smiles enough for me to see myself in her, and my guard goes down a little. Yeah, I know how stupid that is, but since Donna's always treated me like the annoying brat who sleeps on her couch, part of me has always wanted to believe Trudy is capable of being a parent to me. Even though I know better now.

"It's not a good idea," I say and turn away. "I've got plans. See you around."

"Aria, wait."

The plea in her voice makes me plant my feet in the grass. Fuck, don't be stupid. Dad warned you to never talk to her again.

Where are the verbal bullets?

"C'mon," Trudy says, "it's just a drive. I'll take an hour of your time, nothing more. Can't I know how your life's going?"

I meet her eyes again. In the afternoon light, they gleam like panes of glass.

"Look, honey, I'm clean now, just like I promised you I'd be. And now I've got no real friends left. You're still mad about what happened a few years ago, I get it. And I'm sorry for all that, I really am. I had a lot going on in my life too; was addicted to all kinds of pills. I should've never brought my teenage daughter around that group of guys. Or your little friend."

I cross my arms, heartstrings not exactly pulled. "No, you shouldn't have. What happened to Luna was messed up."

"But it's in the past now. Let's talk about the future."

A bad feeling churns inside me, but I've always had this frustrating genetic call to Trudy, no matter how much trouble she's caused me. So I say, "You're not going to stop coming around until we talk, are you?"

She laughs, accentuating the deep-set wrinkles on her cheeks. "Probably not."

"For one hour?"

Trudy nods. "Just an hour. Less if you'd like. We can grab a coffee and share a smoke."

"I don't smoke."

"Whatever, darlin'. What do you say?"

I sigh before I get into the passenger's side of her stuffy, stinky truck. "Fine. Drive."

***

Trudy and I cruise through the outskirts of town, past fields of farmland, the orange sunset trapped in her sunglasses. Her long hair blows wildly in the wind while her arm rests against the open window, and a pair of off-white dice hang from the rear-view mirror. The Rolling Stones play from the radio.

"I'm thinking of heading out west," she says. "Got a friend up there who says she's got work, might be a good way to earn some cash the honest way. Trouble is getting there. I'm shy the gas money."

"You should do that," I say. The farther away from me, the better.

"What's your dad up to?"

I sink in the seat, focused on the fields of baled hay as they speed by, the stench of cow dung hot in the air. "Dad's... fine. He's still at Maple Ridge."

"The college, right? What's he do there now?"

"Professor. Meteorology, specifically."

"And he's still with that uptight woman, I take it."

The one thing Trudy and I agree on: Donna is the worst. But I won't give her the satisfaction of agreeing with her about anything, not after last time. We're not friends.

"Yeah, Donna's still around. I don't know what else is new with Dad, we barely talk anymore."

"That so, huh? He still ragging on you to go to school?"

"Yeah, sort of."

"You're young, you've got all the time in the world to figure your shit out. Your dad always was the fancy educational type. I remember when I met him, he wanted me to go to school too, but he was just projecting his fantasies onto me. I was never cut out for it."

A chill slithers through me. I hate seeing my own personality traits in hers, seeing where I get from. The thought of being like her scares the shit out of me, but I'm not my mother; I've never stolen, never manipulated or exploited someone's trust. I might be half her, but I'm half Dad, too.

We pull into a lone gas station, and I shoot Trudy a look. "What are we doing?"

She parks out front. "Run in there and grab me a pack of smokes, will you?"

"Why can't you do it?"

"I just gotta get some fresh air and stretch my legs. You don't drive, so you don't get what it's like. Shit's tiring after a while."

"Okay... whatever."

Inside the store, an oscillating fan sputters cool air at me. I go to the clerk and ask for a pack of Canadian Classics. But when I go to pay, my wallet isn't in my back pocket. It must've fallen out. I tell the clerk I'll be right back and dash outside the store, hurrying back to the truck. Trudy's in the driver's seat, and the sun's almost completely set, casting a blue wash over everything.

"Pass me my wallet," I say, and she hands it to me through the open window.

"Hey, grab me a bag of chips too, will you?" Trudy says. "Dill pickle."

"Fine."

They're my favourite too. Ugh.

Back in the store, I search the aisle for the chips, but I can't find them anywhere. Fuck this, I'm not wasting anymore time doing favours for that woman, so I head to the cash to pay for the smokes. I hand the guy my ID, and when he gives me my total, I take out my wallet.

As soon as I touch the frayed leather fabric of my Pulp Fiction wallet, Bad Motherfucker stitched in black on the front, something's wrong. It's not as heavy as it's supposed to be.

"What?" I dig through it. This isn't right. I withdrew two-hundred bucks from the ATM so I'd have cash for whatever bar Luna and I end up at tonight.

But the money isn't here.

I search and search, hoping for some kind of mistake, but I know I put it here, so where did it go?

An icy feeling sweeps over me. I don't think twice—I just run outside.

Trudy's truck has already belted out of the parking lot, and it disappears down the long road.