"If we couldn't laugh, we'd all go insane." - Robert Frost

Memory Lane: Chapter Four

Portions of our walk required us to cut through sections of the woods that flow through Bennington. In our drunken states, neither one of us feared walking through the forest in the dark. And, despite the situation that led to it, I didn't mind the walk.

It was nice for Allen and I to catch up and speak candidly without him fearing he would say the wrong thing to me. I did what I set out to do at the party: ensure I'm seen as nothing but Laura Laurier. Even Allen has started to view me less as his victimized little cousin and more as his friend.

Jesse was wrong in his estimated time it would take us to walk home. Saying twenty minutes was generous. Because of my legs, it took us over a half hour to walk back from the party.

Ever since the surgeries and skin graft, my body has not been able to keep up with day-to-day activities the way it used to. A simple walk requires more effort than my legs can handle and exhaustion settles in quickly. It's not to say that I can't do the same things I could before, it just requires more time and I have to take things slower.

Despite it being nearly nine months since the accident, I'm still in recovery and will be for a lot longer. Aunt June has been there to help me continue to set up my doctors visits back in Wallingford and she's already taken off of work the days that I have to go back for my check-ins. If I keep up with my daily skincare tasks and continue to go to my routinely doctors visits, there's a chance my legs could go back to normal. However slim, I'll take any chance I get. I don't want to look in the mirror every day for the rest of my life and be reminded of the greatest nightmare I'll ever have.

Now, after sleeping away any alcohol left in my system, I'm relaxing on the window seat as I sort through my schedule for the first day of school tomorrow. The top of the sheet has large bold letters outlining the school's name: Mount Anthony Union High School, the only one in the town. Bennington may not be a small town, but it's small enough to only require one school. Allen and the girls were kind enough to introduce me to a fair amount of my new classmates at the party, but with how much alcohol was floating around, I'm doubtful most of them remember their small interaction with me.

A knock at my door pulls my eyes away from my schedule and Allen gently pushes it open, and I try to avoid laughing at his clearly hungover appearance. One of his pajama pants legs is bunched up to his knee, his shirt was clearly thrown on inside-out last night, and his hair is sticking up in various positions. Allen grunts at my bright ceiling light, running a hand over his face and through his hair. Despite sobering up during our walk home last night, Allen still had one too many shots and is paying for it now.

"Good morning."

"No so loud," he groans, lifting both hands to massage his temples with his eyes squeezed tight. "Let's try to whisper this morning, yeah?"

I put my hands up in an apology, still trying not to laugh.

"In about an hour," he starts, his voice groggy and in desperate need of water, "the girls and I are going to go to lunch. Kendall forgot to get your number last night, so she called me about ten times this morning to make sure I invited you and gave you her number."

He lifts his phone from the doorway for me to see, unlocked to reveal many missed calls by the same contact. He tosses me his phone, mumbling about how I need to put her number in mine, still rubbing his temples. Then, he shuts off the light in my room and sighs out of relief.

"That's better," he says, catching his phone when I toss it back, barely having it reach him.

"How are you getting the car keys back? Jesse still has them, do you really think he'll drive over here to drop off the car in the next hour?"

That causes Allen to flinch slightly and he gives me a sheepish smile, "Oh...did I not tell you last night? Jesse lives next door, he dropped the car off in the driveway last night and left the keys under the porch mat."

My curious smile drops into a curt scowl at the thought of having to live the next year next to that steely-eyed brute.

"That's part of the reason he was so adamant about giving us a ride home last night," Allen admits. "It wasn't really out of his way."

"Nice to know his attempted good deed was out of convenience, then."

Allen frowns, "Well that's not really what I meant-"

"I'll meet you downstairs in an hour?" I ask, not meaning to cut him off but wanting to waste no more time talking about Jesse.

One hour and countless texts back and forth between me and Kendall later, both Allen and I are showered and dressed and on our way to lunch. He directs me where to drive, though our lunch spot is easy to find since it's on Main Street.

Over text, Kendall created a group with me and Quinn where they explained that going to lunch on Sunday is almost like a weekend ritual in Bennington. While there isn't a party as large as the one last night every weekend, every Sunday nearly the entire student body goes to one of the many restaurants on Main Street to eat away their hangovers. During the day, it's where the students go to eat and play pool. At night, it becomes a 21+ bar for the locals to do the same, just with alcohol in the mix.

Allen begins to explain the restaurant as I turn onto Main Street, causing the hundreds of fallen, crisp leaves on the road to be blown out of the way and back into the safety of the small grass strip between the road and sidewalk.

"So this place is more of a dive bar than a restaurant, but not the classic motorcycle gang, smoky air, bar-seats only type of place, you know? It's more brightly lit with a few less profanities carved into the tables. It's called The Oven Bird."

My eyes snap away from the road and to Allen as my mind goes to one of the pages in my mom's journal, filled with her markings and analysis on one of the many poems written down.

"Like the Robert Frost poem?"

Allen shrugs, scrolling through his phone, "I guess. Never heard of it, I figured it was supposed to be talking about a turkey or something since they have a killer turkey sandwich."

I continue driving down Main Street, passing the beautiful rows of locally owned shops, restaurants, and sidewalk cafes. The city has done a phenomenal job with the upkeep of this historic town. Small trees are dotted down Main Street, helping the separation of sidewalk to road, and adding a variety of colors as the leaves continue to change. Countless members of the community bustle along the streets with shopping bags, laughing with their families as they enjoy the brisk fall weather.

When I used to visit as a child, my mom would always take me to her favorite shop. Dad loved to go too, but he was horrible to try and walk with. He always seemed to have a conversation with nearly every passing stranger, so getting to your destination was almost impossible. There were days when I would get so annoyed with him for it. Now, I would do anything to get those moments back.

"That's Kendall and Quinn, go ahead and park behind them."

Doing as Allen says, I pull easily into the spot behind a small Volkswagen Beetle, right in front of the restaurant. As Allen and I step out, Kendall and Quinn emerge from the bright yellow car. Within seconds Kendall jogs over to Allen who scoops her up into his arms and kisses her, his face melting into a doe-eyed smile as he holds her close to him.

"I hope you're feeling better than we are," Quinn moans as she slowly walks towards me, her hand on her head as she stumbles a bit. "Please, can someone tell me how many shots I took or why my legs feel like rubber?"

"I lost count around five, but I think Henry started passing out shots of water at a certain point. As for your legs, you were dancing pretty much the entire night."

Quinn reaches me and takes my arm in hers, resting her temple on my shoulder. "Never let me drink again, deal?"

Kendall chuckles and pulls away from Allen to stand on my other side, gently bumping my hip with a friendly smile. Already, I can tell how much calmer she is without alcohol filling her system. Her tear shaped, brown eyes are clear this afternoon as opposed to the slight gloss over them last night.

"How are you feeling today, Laura?"

"Embarrassed, tired, but overall okay. You?" I admit, trying to avoid thinking back to my encounter with what was most certainly not just juice.

"Hangxiety is a real thing," Quinn mumbles in agreement.

Kendall chuckles, her laugh bubbly and angelic, just like the rest of her. She takes my other arm and loops it through hers, tossing her long, straight black hair over her shoulder as we walk inside together. It's a slightly awkward stance for the two of us, considering she's at least five inches shorter than I am, and I'm only 5'6". In order for Allen to even kiss her he has to lift her in his arms.

"I had to wake up at 8am for cheer practice. I was somehow fine then, I think I was still partially drunk, but now I am in desperate need of food and water," she says.

"You make me so excited for when baseball season comes back around," Allen mutters sarcastically. "Those Sunday practices are hell."

Immediately, the chatter of other teenagers fills my ears as Allen opens the door for us, and the smell of fried food wafts through the air. It causes my stomach to rumble, reminding me that I skipped dinner last night and settled for nothing but some coffee for breakfast, but I push the growling of my stomach to the back of my mind.

Allen was right to tell me not to assume that this place is a stereotypical dive-bar out of a 70's movie. Rather than dim lighting that barely brightens the old wood paneling, The Oven Bird has large windows facing Main Street that allow plenty of natural light to compliment the various eclectic decorations taking up almost all of the wall space.

Immediately to my right are two steps down into an area filled with a few pool tables and a small wall overhang that doubles as a table going all around the perimeter for people to place their drinks. To my left is a row of booths, extending the windowed wall and curving around to what I assume is more space in the back. But the center of the room is decorated with a large, horseshoe bar that has a few locals sitting around having drunken conversations.

Aside from those locals, The Oven Bird is completely packed with teenagers milling around. Every booth looks taken, every pool table is surrounded by groups of teenage guys, and even the standing space is taken up by small pockets of friends talking. Weaving through the crowd, Allen finds an open booth near the back and we make our way there. Once we sit, Allen goes to the bar to get water to help fight off their massive dehydration from the night before.

After their waters had been chugged down and refilled and appetizers were bought for each of us to split, Allen got up and moved over to the pool tables with some of his friends after giving me a quick introduction. Moments later, Quinn perks up before lowering her head to speak a bit quieter.

"Look out, here comes Shay."

"Shay? Who is Shay?"

Quinn quickly hushes me, her sapphire eyes looking at me with urgency. My face turns red in fear of being heard after Quinn's obvious discretion and I hush up. Then I wait a few seconds and no one walks past our table. A few more seconds, still no one.

"Quinn? Where is she?" Kendall asks.

Quinn hushes us both again, but I scoot to the edge of the booth and glance behind me, noticing a girl with long, frizzy brown hair and devastatingly bright, large green eyes nearly all the way up by the front door.

"Are you talking about the brunette all the way over by the door?" I say in a deadpan tone.

"Quinn! I thought she was right behind us!" Kendall groans.

"She could have supersonic hearing," Quinn reasons, "My uncle told me about people like that after he took a trip to Arcosanti last summer. It's this experimental town out in the desert in Arizona."

I stare at Quinn, blinking at her a few times when she doesn't laugh it off and say she's only joking. She just plays with one of her pigtail braids, sipping her water with a carefree smile.

I lean over to Kendall, "Is Quinn high?"

Kendall studies our blonde haired friend for a moment and nods, "Possibly. Anyway, to answer your question, Shay is just another girl in our grade. She used to be really close with us, but since then Shay has moved on to different friends and-"

"Okay, for real this time, shh," Quinn says, diverting her gaze from where it was laser focused behind us to the ceiling as if trying to look natural.

Shay walks over to us, stopping next to our booth with a big, plump lipped smile as she eyes the three of us. Her eyes are so green and piercing that I can barely hold eye contact.

"Hi!"

Her slightly squeaky voice is equally as intense as her gaze and my body stiffens for a moment.

"Who is this?" She asks as she leans on Quinn's side of the booth, her overzealous smile pinpointed directly at me.

I clear my throat, giving her a small smile. "I'm Laura, Allen's cousin. I just moved in this weekend."

"Well, who knew Allen had such a pretty cousin? It is lovely to meet you, I'm Shay Moore! Are you starting at Mount Anthony tomorrow?"

Her almost southern accent confuses me as it drifts in and out of her introduction, but I mask my reaction well.

"I am. Start of senior year!" I say, trying to match her cheery tone.

"As the class president, if you ever need anything I'm always around! I'd be more than happy to answer any questions you have."

"Oh, thank you that's very nice. Actually, I was looking at my schedule and had a question about my science class-"

Before I'm able to finish my question, Shay shifts her piercing gaze away from me and to the other girls.

"So, have you two seen Jesse today? Allen mentioned that he invited him."

"He did, but you know Jesse. I doubt he'll come," Kendall says, and I notice the way her voice raises in pitch only slightly. As if a customer service voice.

"Hm," Shay hums, glancing around each of us again, "Quinn, love the skirt. Very different, unique. Where did you find it?"

Quinn glances down at her long skirt, "Oh, this? I thrifted it a few weeks ago."

"You and your thrifting," Shay says with an almost overly sweet smile, "Well anyway, I'll leave you three to eat your lunch, it was lovely to meet you Lauren."

"It was great to meet you, too. Oh, and it's Laura-" I start to correct, but she's already moved down the line to the next row of booths. "She seemed...nice?"

"She's extremely nice. Overly nice. Almost...inhumanly nice," Quinn agrees, stabbing at the ice cubes in her drink with the straw.

"Shay has always been a very nice person to everyone at school. She's a friend to pretty much everyone, it's just that she chooses to spend her time with whomever happens to be most popular that week. So, she comes off as a little fake," Kendall explains carefully.

"Did I hear a southern accent in her voice?"

"Speaking of fake. She spent a month in the Outer Banks with her extended family this summer and now acts as if she was raised in the deep south. Sorry, but a New England accent doesn't just slip away that easily. And my uncle has been to North Carolina, their accents aren't that deep."

"She really is a nice person," Kendall reasons, "she's just a little over the top."

"Don't forget about her obsession with Jesse," Quinn mutters. "When they dated she was always around."

I furrow my brow, thinking back to the disdainful interaction I had with Jesse last night.

"You mean to tell me someone actually wanted to be around him?"

"Wanted and obsessed over, yes. She was after him for so long, and then they finally dated for a few months."

I recoil in shock that anyone could go out of their way to date Jesse. Sure, his gray eyes caught my attention, and his tall build didn't hurt, but I couldn't imagine dating someone with a mouth as rude as his.

"Her? The extremely-nice-to-a-fault girl? And Jesse? The I'm-going-to-demand-your-keys-and-call-you-a-control-freak guy?" I ask again.

"They dated for a few months before his dad passed away, but he broke up with her pretty quickly after that," Kendall says softly. "That's when he started keeping to himself more. She was pretty heartbroken over the whole thing."

I suppose my face reveals my disdain, because Kendall sighs.

"I know you two got off on the wrong foot last night, but he really isn't a bad guy. Quiet, yes. A little...curt, yeah that too. But he hasn't always been like that. Something changed when his dad died."

Kendall and Quinn move the conversation along to the first day of school, but my mind stays on the gray-eyed boy from last night. I went through a tragedy like him, but I have worked hard not to let it change the way I interact with people. I don't want it to change the way people view me, like the way it seems people, maybe unknowingly, have done to him.

All the more reason that no one can know why I moved here.

---

The cushion of my window seat is starting to take the shape of my body, forming comfortably around me as I cuddle against it with a thin blanket over my lap. In place of my mom's journal, I have my schedule resting in my lap along with a list of the school supplies I need.

Aunt June went back-to-school shopping earlier today for both me and Allen. Since she's never had a daughter before, she wasn't sure if the army green binders were acceptable, so she bought one of every color for me. She laid three bags filled with supplies on my bed for me to sort through after Allen and I got back from lunch, asking me to crosscheck with the list she printed off of the school's website.

The door to my room creaks open and Aunt June's blonde head squeezes in from the small opening she made.

"Just wanted to let you know that dinner is ready. I made spaghetti this time, which is nearly impossible to burn," she says with a lighthearted laugh, alluding to the meatloaf she managed to burn last night.

A string of pain shocks my chest and I grip my schedule tighter, trying my best not to let the sorrow show on my face.

Family dinners were extremely important to my parents. They both worked busy jobs that often required long, unpredictable hours. Despite that, they always made sure to be home for dinner so that we could eat together and share stories about our days. It was one of the few times during the day that I got to be together with both of them. I haven't sat down for a family dinner since they died, and something tells me it would be too painful to do so now. I can only let in so much heartache.

When I was living with my grandmother, dinner was never an event. Her memory was fleeting and because of that she rarely cooked, so we often ordered in. When we did, we just ate whenever we were hungry. She didn't even have a dining table in her apartment.

"Thank you, Aunt June. I'm not very hungry right now, would you mind saving me a plate for later?"