OBSESSIVE (The Issues Series) by Irons Isobel

Author:Irons, Isobel [Irons, Isobel]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Vivid IIInk
Published: 2014-02-27T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

JULY

You know it’s too early when you can see your breath in the middle of the summer.

City Hall is closed for the Fourth, but Melody volunteered me to help get the parade floats in order, so here I am, clutching a clip board and shivering in the parking lot of my old high school at the crack of dawn.

All around me, flatbed trucks covered in chicken wire shapes and crepe paper flowers idle exhaust into the chilly morning air. Little kids wearing face paint and patriotic t-shirts chase each other around, and I stress about one of them getting run over by a four-wheeler or an out of control horse. I see and feel everything in high-definition now, without any kind of barrier between me and the rest of the world. Colors are brighter, smells are stronger. Good moods are better, bad moods are worse. But somehow, I manage. That’s what I am now: a manager.

Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve managed to bury the panic I feel under layer after layer of self-control, until the only ritual I have left is no rituals. With every breath, instead of counting, I fill my thoughts with passing observations of things that don’t upset me.

The Carter’s Print Shoppe float is really cool looking; they must have worked on it for months. Miss Guthrie’s dress is a really nice shade of purple. The deejay from 104.9 AM looks like he’s nursing a hangover. The little girls from Miss McLane’s gymnastics class are really cute, but also very loud and shrill. They’re probably going to scare the horses.

No problem. I’ll just put them further away from each other in the lineup. Maybe… I go down the list, looking for a gap. Next to the Shriners. Perfect. Most of those guys are hard of hearing, anyway.

Tash is almost a half hour late. I try not to let that bother me, even as I check my cell phone for the however-many-number time I’ve checked it. No missed calls.

I’ve taken to carrying my cell phone around in my hand, not just so I’ll hear it when Tash calls or texts me, but also because about a half hour ago, one of the ‘scoopers’—the very unfortunate parade staff members who dress up as clowns every year and follow the horses around with a dustpan and broom—tried to shake my hand. I had to pretend like I was getting a call, so I wouldn’t have to do that whole awkward ‘yeah, there’s no way in hell I’m touching you man’ dance.

“Hey Parade Boy,” Melody comes up behind me, startling me, like she always does. “Where are we on the list? My dad wants to know if we’re going to be able to start on time.”

She puts her hand on my arm, looking over my shoulder at the clip board. She’s close enough for me to smell her hair and look down the front of her shirt, which is clearly what she intended. I really, really wish I could go back to when she was just really rude and bossy all the time.

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