George Hoepfner
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011 George Hoepfner
Cover design by Ryan Hildebrandt
Chapter_2_Prime_Number_Birthday
Chapter_3_Four_Months_and_Twenty_Days
Chapter_7_1985_Cadillac_Seville
Chapter_8_Three_Point_Twenty_five_Kilos
Chapter_10_The_Three_Percent_Factor
Chapter_11_360_Degree_Opposites
Chapter_14_A_Four_Syllable_Word
Chapter_15_Juggling_Three_Friends
Chapter_18_Three_Day_Suspension
Chapter_20_Fifty_four_Mountains
Chapter_21_Dr_Jones_13th_Fathers_Day
Chapter_23_Two_Weeks_of_Training
Chapter_24_Four_wheel_Drive_Jeep_Trail
Chapter_25_Three_Thousand_Vertical_Feet
Chapter_26_Lucky_Number_Thirteen
Chapter_30_Camping_at_12000_Feet
Chapter_31_Nikkis_14th_Birthday
Chapter_32_We_Do_Not_Have_15_Minutes
Chapter_33_Eighty_Miles_Per_Hour
Chapter_34_One_Thousand_Feet_to_Safety
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Dedication
This book is dedicated to my sons, Joshua and Zachary, and to the many students of mine who have inspired me throughout the years. I'd like to add a big thank-you to Shirley Kindt, my editor, agent, and friend, who put in many tireless hours helping me to make this book as perfect as we could get it.
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Chapter 1 – Zero Timeouts Left
Nikki watched the volleyball loft towards her from the back row of the court and knew that she would have to hunt it down if she was going to get a good pair of hands on it. The ball was spinning sideways like a gyroscope and Nikki mentally gauged how much of the spin she would be able to take off it. She sprinted after it, her blond ponytail weaving from side-to-side, as she glided under the ball, planting her feet wide apart, and going into her setter’s crouch.
From behind her, she heard Angelina’s voice pierce through the noise of the crowd. “C, C, C!” shouted the tall Hispanic girl, who played weak-side hitter. Nikki cringed at the girl’s tone and briefly thought about not setting her, but she had already positioned herself for the back set.
As the ball spun down towards her forehead, Nikki spread her fingers apart to cradle the ball in her hands and hopefully take some of the crazy spin off it. Holding the ball just barely long enough to let her fingers contact the material, Nikki arched her back expertly and, with a flick of her wrist, sent the ball sailing behind her towards her hitter. Then she turned around to help cover if necessary.
Angelina went up, a little early in Nikki’s estimation, and reached up to smack the ball. A bit off-balance, she made contact with the ball a little behind her head and sent a weak hit just over the top of the net. At nearly the same instant, two girls from the other team jumped in tandem, with the taller of the two girls pushing the ball down and back over the net. The volleyball dropped like a rock and landed on West Pueblo’s side of the court, where no one from Nikki’s team had a chance to dig it up, although Nikki made the effort anyway. She grunted as the ball hit the floor inches away from her outstretched fingers.
The girls on the other team shrieked with delight and several of them shouted out, “Roof, roof, roof,” much to Nikki’s annoyance. She looked at the girl who had blocked Angelina’s shot. She towered at least nine inches above Nikki, who was barely more than five feet tall. What a freak of nature, Nikki thought to herself. How can any girl, much less a middle-schooler be almost six feet tall? She grunted and pulled herself up to one knee, ignoring Angelina’s hand that she offered to help Nikki up. Instead, she glared at the girl, who was nearly a head taller than her.
“You know why they blocked you so easily, Angelina?” Nikki asked rhetorically, not giving the other girl a chance to answer. “It was because you called the set position out loud and they were waiting to pounce on your hit. Don’t call out the set. I know where to set the ball because I’m the one who signaled for it, remember? And if you can’t get a good hit, just send it deep to their back row. Think!”
Angelina looked both crushed and angry at the same time. Upset at Nikki’s outburst, she turned her back on the setter and stomped over to her right-side position, shaking her head. She threw up her hands in frustration at the coach of the team.
Mrs. Strickmeyer, seeing that the chemistry of the team was in shambles, called for a time-out. It was her last one. She looked at the scoreboard. It was 12 to 13, with the deciding third game being played only to 15. This was the first time she had made it to the city championships, in the four years she had been the girls’ volleyball coach at West Pueblo Middle School. If she had known it would be this stressful, she never would have volunteered to be the coach. The small stipend she received for this position was hardly worth it sometimes.
She called the team over and looked at their faces, trying desperately to think of something encouraging to say. She didn’t need to look at Nikki’s face. The star setter of her team was as intense as always and only focused on winning. A little too intense sometimes, Mrs. Strickmeyer mused. She needed to calm the girls down.
“Okay, we’re only down by one, ladies, and there’s no need to panic,” the coach observed. Then she turned her attention to Nikki and the rest of the team. “That was a good set, Nikki, but don’t be afraid to mix it up some more. Some of our plays are getting pretty predictable, so I want the hitters to try some line shots or maybe some roll shots to the donut. Get the other team out of their rhythm. Okay? Panthers on three. One, two, three.”
“Panthers!” the team shouted, throwing their hands up into the air and trotting back onto the court.
Mrs. Strickmeyer gently grabbed Nikki’s arm before she could sprint back to her position. Speaking into her ear, the coach gave advice to the captain of the team.
“Listen, Nikki, I need you to focus on the positive now and not bring down your teammates,” Mrs. Strickmeyer whispered tightly to Nikki. “Your team needs you to be a supportive leader, not to be critical of them. We can still win this, but only as a team.” She gazed at her setter.
Nikki paused, but only for a moment, before letting her intensity down for a second. She flashed her coach a sheepish smile, realizing what she was talking about, and then offered an apology of sorts.
“Okay, coach, I know what you mean,” Nikki said. “I’ll dial it down a notch.” Then she sprinted out onto the court without waiting for the coach’s reaction.
Much to Mrs. Strickmeyer’s delight, Nikki ran up to Angelina and gave the girl an encouraging pat on the back before lining up just outside the middle blocker. Angelina looked perplexed at Nikki’s unexpected show of support, before shrugging her shoulders and frowning, as if to say, “Whatever.”
The other team’s libero, their defensive specialist, went up to serve the ball and promptly served it into the top of the net, causing an eruption of cheers from the Pueblo West bench. The game was tied once again.
“Let’s use this!” Nikki yelled, as she grabbed the ball and sprinted towards the service line.
Bouncing the ball with both hands several times, she waited for the referee’s whistle before sending the ball lofting over the net into the middle of their opponent’s court, sometimes referred to as the donut. The serve was nearly an ace, but the libero managed to just get under the ball, sending it arcing back over the net towards the West Pueblo back row. It was Brittany again who reached the ball, and this time she sent a perfect pass lobbing towards the front of the net where Nikki was already waiting.
Positioning herself for a set, instead of sending the ball to the end of the net, where her strong-side hitter was waiting, Nikki unexpectedly flicked the ball over the net, causing it to take a nose-dive onto the floor, just behind the tall girl who had blocked Angelina moments before. Before the other team could react, the ball hit the floor, as they watched in horrified fascination. The referee awarded the point to Pueblo West. It was now 14 to 13. Match point.
The fans in the stands burst into a loud cacophony of support for both of their teams, with the West Pueblo fans stomping their feet wildly on the old wooden bleachers, sending pounding vibrations through the ancient stands, and the heavily favored Pueblo South fans shouting out random words of encouragement for their stunned team. The noise was deafening. Respecting the magnitude of the moment, and waiting for the raucous crowd to settle down, the referee waited longer than usual before bringing the whistle to her lips.
On the court, Mrs. Strickmeyer and the rest of the team burst into cheers, and the left-side hitter, who was slightly perturbed at first that Nikki didn’t set her, walked over to congratulate Nikki. However, Nikki ignored her and the rest of her teammates, and instead ran to the service line again, waiting impatiently for the ball. She was not going to let anything get in the way of her winning the match now.
Bouncing the ball intently, Nikki stared at the referee, mentally willing her to blow the whistle already. She glanced at her coach, waiting to see if she had any instructions. Behind her clipboard, Mrs. Strickmeyer held up one finger, indicating that she wanted Nikki to serve to the other side’s serving position. Nikki frowned and looked away, not acknowledging her coach’s orders. Instead, she formulated her own plan. She knew how to win this game and who to serve it to. She sought out the tall girl who had blocked Angelina. Throughout the match, she had observed that she was not a good passer. All arms and legs, Nikki thought, but no skills.
Finally, the tweet of the whistle broke the silence that had crept over the hundreds of people in the gymnasium. The audience waited tensely as Nikki bounced the ball several more times, held the ball over her head with her left hand, and then brought her right hand in contact with the ball. Against her coach’s instructions, the ball sailed towards the middle of the opponent’s court.
Nikki’s off-speed serve limped towards the net, ticking the top of the net before careening off it and straight up into the air. As if unwilling to decide the outcome of the game, the ball hovered over the epicenter of the two courts before finally succumbing to gravity and dropping to the ground. It bounced on the tape one more time before sliding down the side of the net.
Instead of running as she usually did, Nikki walked towards the net, knowing that her serve would either be an ace or a service error. As she saw the ball drop towards the ground, however, her pace increased, just in the off chance that the other team might dig up the ball. To her delight, however, the ball rolled in the right direction and then bounced harmlessly off the tall girl’s right elbow before ricocheting helplessly under the net, and landing ironically right at Nikki’s feet. She picked it up.
The referee pointed to the spot where the ball had landed, awarded Pueblo West the point, and then folded her hands across her chest to signify the end of the game. Pandemonium ensued as the family, friends, players, and coach of the winning team realized what had just happened. The smallest and most intense player on the team had just dropped a bomb on the opposition. The underdogs, Pueblo West Middle School, won the city championship.
The referee blew the whistle furiously and signaled for the players on both teams to line up at the back court line, as was required. The coaches hurriedly corralled their players into a semblance of a line and then ushered them to the net where they could congratulate each other in a display of showmanship, although clearly it was only a token gesture for both teams, because as soon as the coaches shook hands, the Pueblo West team burst into a spontaneous celebration.
Several of the girls gathered around the coach while many more hugged each other or sprinted up into the stands to whoop and holler with their friends. Everyone except for Nikki, that is. She just stood on the ten-foot line of the court and observed the celebrations dispassionately, soaking in the moment in her own private way. Nobody approached her and, though she considered joining in the melee around the coach, she didn’t feel like she belonged there right now. She looked around, waiting for someone to come up and congratulate her but then realized that wasn’t going to happen. Everyone else seemed to be caught up in the moment. She was a little disappointed. After all, she had scored the last two deciding points for the team.
She started to walk over to retrieve her sports bag when she heard her voice called loudly from the stands. She froze for a second, scanning the audience. It took her a moment, but then she heard the voice again and quickly spied her dad. He was grinning from ear to ear and applauding madly, holding his hands above his head. For an impossible moment, it looked like her mom was standing next to her father, but that was ridiculous, of course. Nikki blinked her eyes a few times and then saw that it was just Willow’s mom, Ms. Branch, talking to a friend of hers. The two ladies weren’t even paying attention to the celebration down on the court.
Nikki caught her father’s eye and a smile slowly creased her face. It grew wider as he put two fingers in his mouth and let loose with a shrill victory whistle, followed by two thumbs up. Ms. Branch looked sideways at him with an annoyed glance, but he never took notice. He was totally focused on Nikki and her moment, and she adored him so much for that. She held up her hand, palm forward, with her ring and middle fingers curled downward, in the universal gesture of love, and silently shared this moment with her biggest fan. She had promised him that she would win the volleyball championship, and though he said that it didn’t matter if her team won it or not, it mattered to her. She always kept her promises.
Nikki was shaken from her reverie by the sound of her coach’s voice. Mrs. Strickmeyer, who noticed Nikki standing by herself in the middle of the court, gestured vigorously for her to come join the team huddle. She looked into the bleachers for her dad one more time and saw that he wasn’t there. Nikki loped over to join the rest of the team in their celebration. After all, she was their star player.
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Chapter 2 – Prime Number Birthday
Nikki leaned back into her chair, closing her eyes. She listened to the wind snap at the plastic of the jeep’s windows and soaked in the vibrations of the car’s heavy frame. Lord, it was such a noisy vehicle, but she loved riding in it. Sometimes she felt like she was wrapped in its arms. She was broken from her reverie by the man next to her.
“Pretty tired, I bet,” Tom Jones sympathized with her. “I was exhausted just watching you run around on the court.” He turned his expressive face towards his daughter for a moment, observing her graceful features as she settled into her seat.
“What was Mrs. Strickmeyer talking to you about at the end of the match?” he inquired, before turning his attention back to the traffic around him.
Nikki offered an impish smile, sat up straight, and then looked at her dad. She thought back to the conversation she had with her coach and mentally cringed.
“Oh, she was just congratulating me on my last serve, but then she told me that it took ten years off her life when she saw it hit the top of the net,” Nikki giggled. “Then she asked me if I served it to the middle blocker on purpose,” Nikki added, almost as an afterthought. She closed her eyes again and listened to the thrum of the jeep.
Her father waited patiently for elaboration from his daughter. None came.
“Well? Did you?” he finally asked when he saw that she wasn’t going to offer an explanation on her own.
Nikki looked at him coyly before providing only a brief response.
“Maybe,” was all she said, suddenly becoming uncomfortable at the direction this conversation was going, and she knew exactly what road this discussion was going down.
He looked askance at her before turning his attention back to his driving. He sighed and muttered loud enough for her to hear.
“You can be so stubborn sometimes, Nikki,” he said, but not harshly. He knew her well enough to know that her stubbornness was an inherent part of her and that it also contributed to her success, although it wasn’t always a desirable trait.
“Thanks, Dad,” Nikki chirped, trying to turn this back onto him. She knew he wasn’t really mad at her.
“It wasn’t a compliment, daughter-o-mine,” Dr. Jones fired back at her, although not in an unfriendly way. “You should always listen to your coach. Believe it or not, she does know more about volleyball than you do.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
“But I did, Dad,” Nikki defended herself. “She told me to mix things up, and so I did the unexpected and we won the game. Isn’t that what matters? Besides, you’re always telling me to be creative in my problem-solving, so that’s what I did. Obviously you’re to blame for me being the way I am,” she added mischievously.
“Oh, don’t go there, young lady,” her father blurted quickly, though he was smiling at her by now. “Your stubbornness is all yours and I take no credit for it. Just like that time at your birthday party where you made that crazy promise and then refused to let anyone talk you out of it. That’s typical Nikki.” He made a great pretense of rolling his eyes, mocking her own mannerism that she often used on others.
“Hmmm,” Nikki purred, looking suddenly pensive. Her eyes almost seemed to glow in the dark as she conjured up recent memories. Dr. Jones threw a quick look at his daughter and shook his head.
“See what I mean?” he observed. “Climbing season just ended three months ago and you’re still thinking about mountains again, aren’t you? You definitely are your mother’s daughter.”
He regretted the words even as they came out of his mouth. The animated conversation in the car ground to a halt, like a flashlight whose batteries suddenly run dry. Nikki closed her eyes and settled into her seat again, though she wasn’t as comforted by the sounds of the car now.
“It wasn’t a crazy wish, Dad,” she got the last word in, before turning her head and staring out the flickering plastic window. As she focused her eyes on the approaching lights of their Pueblo West subdivision, she recalled a summer day nearly six-and-a-half years ago.
The wind was howling like a banshee near the top of the mountain. With nothing above timberline to slow it down, it had free rein over the landscape and was playing havoc with everyone, especially the smallest member of the hiking group, who was struggling just to stay vertical.
The hiking group had already lost the main trail half an hour before, and was now forced to rock-hop from one boulder to the next, in order to gain elevation. The big rocks were firm, but some of the small and medium rocks were a bit loose, and with the wind buffeting them, sometimes they had to put a hand down on a rock above them in order to steady themselves. It was getting colder, too, and everyone’s hands were starting to stiffen. It was not the best of conditions.
Just a hundred vertical feet from the summit of Mount Princeton, Dr. Jones, the leader of the hiking group was pretty sure he could see the rock windbreak at the very top of the mountain. He knew that the climbers were just minutes away from reaching their goal, but when he turned around to tell his daughter that they were almost there, he couldn’t find her.
Dr. Jones looked around for a few seconds, clearly embarrassed that he had lost his daughter near the top of her first fourteener. He looked at his wife, Elise, who just smiled and pointed to a large outcropping of rocks slightly below her feet. The befuddled man stepped down and saw his daughter, Nikki, wedged between two large boulders, trying to stay out of the wind. She had this very stubborn look on her face, which he knew too well.
He contoured to where Nikki was, to find out what was wrong, but when he asked her if she was okay, she just scrunched up her face and replied that she was tired and wasn’t going any further and that she was done for the day. He patiently explained to her that the top was soooo very close now, and besides, hiding out in a rock at 14,000 feet elevation until she felt like walking again wasn’t exactly an option. But, she just wedged herself further into the rocks and refused to budge. She didn’t come out until he promised to give her a piggyback ride for part of the way down and get her some ice cream in Buena Vista. He also claimed that he had to promise to raise her allowance before coaxing her back onto the slopes.
Sitting in the Jeep, Nikki mentally cringed as she remembered that part of the hike and how her dad had to bribe her to continue. How embarrassing. It didn’t matter that she was just a little girl at the time. It was a sign of weakness.
Instinctively, with her left hand, Nikki pulled a long strand of her blond hair and began chewing on the end of it, as her dad turned the Jeep into their subdivision. It was a habit that annoyed her dad to no end, but he was wise enough to realize that she didn’t do it on purpose. It was just something she did when she was nervous or doing some heavy thinking. He sighed heavily and, as usual, when she saw the look on her dad’s face, she stopped chewing on her hair right away.
Her memories flashed forward to her 11th birthday party, just two-and-a-half years ago, when her father had been telling that very same Mt. Princeton story to his parents, who were in attendance at her party. He had unfairly inserted that last piece of fiction about raising her allowance. But she also remembered it as the day she made the promise.
Dr. Jones paused frequently, trying to achieve maximum dramatic effect, often running his hand through his mop of brown hair so he could remember where he was in the story. Sometimes he purposely drew a large sip from the can of soda that seemed to be constantly perched precariously near the edge of the coffee table. His mother, sitting next to him, continuously pushed it more towards the middle of the table. It was like a comical duet.
Nikki bolted upright from the couch, her brown eyes flashing in anger. “You did not promise to raise my allowance,” she admonished him crossly. “I swear, Daddy, every time you tell that story you make up more stuff. Besides, I was only seven years old at the time,” she added with a look of irritation on her face.
Nikki looked at her dad suspiciously. “Hey, I didn’t even start getting an allowance until last month. That’s just mean. You take back that last part of the story.” At this, Dr. Jones and his parents laughed uproariously at the young girl’s consternation. The memory of this still made Nikki flush with embarrassment.
“I’m sorry, honey,” Dr. Jones quickly apologized, “but I wasn’t even sure if you were even listening. You’ve had your nose buried in that PS-2 ever since I gave it to you. I know it’s your birthday present, but you could put it away for a while and visit with your grandparents while they’re here. They did drive down from Denver to be with you for your birthday.”
“Well, technically, my 11th birthday was two days ago,” she began, but stopped immediately when she heard her grandparents sigh. Nikki had a bad habit of correcting people whenever they made even the slightest inaccuracy. This was not an endearing quality most of the time. She also had a large vocabulary for her age, and wasn’t afraid to use it. She had been in a gifted education program ever since she was in the third grade, and sometimes she was a little too smart for her own good. Still, her family was patient with her little quirks.
“Nikki,” her dad growled softly, “you know what I mean.” He gave her the evil eye and then looked at the PS-2, hinting with his eyes.
“Okay, Daddy, don’t have a cow, I’ll put it away.” She snapped it shut and stuffed it between the couch cushions, like a squirrel hoping to dig it up later. Then she smiled sweetly, a little too sweetly, and batted her eyes at Dr. Jones.
Always the peacemaker, Nikki’s grandfather cleared his throat and took control of the situation. “So, did the three of you ever get to the top of Mt. Princeton?” He knew the answer to that question already, and everyone knew that he knew, but it did get the topic back onto mountains again.
“Yeah, Grandpa, we all made the summit, but it was Mom that gave me the piggyback ride when we got back onto the main trail, not Dad, and I had mint chocolate chip ice cream when we got back to Buena Vista. So there,” she added, playfully sticking out her tongue at her dad.
Nikki’s Grandpa Jones, who was sitting in the recliner listening intently, spoke up again. “So how was the mountain you climbed on this birthday?” he asked.
At this, Nikki perked up, suddenly interested in sharing her passion with anyone who would listen to her. She began to tell her grandparents about climbing Mount Lincoln with her dad, while Dr. Jones politely listened, only adding minor details when he thought it was necessary to.
Nikki Jones did indeed climb her first fourteener on her 7th birthday, and had insisted on climbing on her birthday every year since then. Every year but one that is.
A fourteener is a mountain that is more than 14,000 feet in elevation, and Colorado has more than fifty of them. In fact, Nikki’s parents met while climbing a fourteener and they ended up climbing the rest of the fourteeners together. They climbed their final one, North Maroon Peak, and at the summit, Nikki’s dad proposed to her mom. Two months later, in late September, they were married at the top of Mt. Evans, another fourteener. There were about 40 people in attendance, and it started to snow at the end of the ceremony, even though it was only early autumn. Nikki knew the story by heart, and as far as she was concerned, it was a fairytale love story.
Nikki’s parents were already in their mid-thirties when they married, and a couple of years later, Nicole Renee Jones was born in Pueblo. Nikki’s mother was 36 years old at the time and there were some complications with the birth, so Nikki never did have any siblings since her mom couldn’t have any more kids. Still, Nikki had an ideal childhood from her point of view, being raised by an engineering professor and an artist. She never really felt lonely. At least not until after her mother died.
When Nikki was eight years old and just beginning third grade, her mom was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Unfortunately, the cancer was already in the later stages when it was detected, and although Elise Jones held on for several months, she finally succumbed to the disease. During those painful days, Nikki and her mom spent a lot of time talking, even when her mom felt the worst. It was as though Nikki’s mom was trying to give her daughter as many memories as she could before she had to leave. When Nikki’s mom finally did pass away, in the springtime of Nikki’s third grade, there was a huge void, and nobody to fill it. Nikki’s dad tried to talk with her like her mom used to, but it just wasn’t the same. That summer, neither Nikki nor her dad felt much like climbing.
“And it was the highest mountain I’ve climbed so far,” Nikki remembered telling her grandparents at her 11th birthday party. “It was 14 thousand two hundred and …” she paused, wrinkling her forehead in concentration. “Dad?”
Nikki’s Dad, who had been lost somewhere in his own world, suddenly returned to reality. “Oh, um, 286, honey. 14,286 feet. Eighth highest in the state.” Dr. Jones couldn’t even remember the names of all his students, but he never ever forgot a number. He had sunk back into his reverie.
“So, dear,” Nikki’s grandmother had inquired politely, “are you going to climb any more mountains this summer?” Nikki’s grandmother was very patient with this hobby of granddaughter’s, but secretly wished that she would grow out of it some day.
“Well, there are one or two more that Dad and I are looking at, but I don’t know if we’ll get to both of them before school starts. We might do a double, he says. Maybe Grays and Torreys. I’ve never done a double before, but he says these two are pretty easy. But he also says we can’t do too many because they’re only going to get harder now and we need to pace ourselves. What I think he means, however, is that he needs to pace himself. He is 48 years old now,” she had said in a loud stage whisper, “and he isn’t a spring chicken anymore,” she stated, clutching her back in a mock display of old age.
At this, Dr. Jones woke up again from his trance and gave his daughter a dirty look. He replied, “Hey, I can still out-climb you, young lady. I’ll still be climbing fourteeners when you’re an old married woman. So there.” It was his turn to stick out his tongue at her.
“Well, you better be, Daddy-o-mine, because I have big plans for the future.”
At this, her dad perked up, not being aware of these big plans. “Oh, really,” he sat up like a prairie dog, over-exaggerating his interest, “please illuminate me.”
Nikki got a resolute look on her face. It was a look that told her dad that she meant business. He stopped feigning interest and actually listened attentively.
Nikki’s dad was not the only one in the family who had a nose for numbers. Nikki herself was fascinated with patterns and sequences and often found meaning in numbers where others just saw random digits. She had been working the figures in her head for a long time, and now that she had a plan, she was committed to it.
“Well,” she began hesitantly, “my goal is to climb my fourteenth fourteener on my fourteenth birthday, which is on July 14th.” She paused to take a deep breath after letting out her secret dream. “Don’t you see, it all fits. It’s my destiny.”
She said this last part with a flip of her hair before plopping back on the couch pulling her knees up to her chin. She grabbed another wisp of hair and chewed on it frantically, waiting for their response.
Dr. Jones and his parents looked at Nikki with comprehension. They recognized that determined look on her face and knew that there was no talking her out of this plan. Not that her dad wanted to anyway. He just looked at her proudly, which is all the affirmation that she needed. She beamed and scootched closer to him.
Grandpa seemed okay with the idea, but Grandma just pursed her lips and kept her opinion and comments to herself. After a somewhat awkward silence, she finally said, “How about we all have some cake now?”
Pulling into their neighborhood, Nikki smiled a secret smile as she thought back to that birthday party. That promise had felt so right, just like everything felt right about this school year. She was at the top of her class academically, she had just won a volleyball championship and she still had basketball and track season ahead of her. Plus, she was in her final year of middle school. One of the upperclassmen. She peered through the darkness, looking for the mountains that she knew were waiting for her. She couldn’t wait to get back to school and start living the dream. Unexpectedly, she felt a single tear slide down her check. Now where did that come from, she wondered silently. With an annoyed flick of her wrist, she wiped it away.
* * *
Chapter 3 - Four Months and Twenty Days Later
“Omigawd, could you possibly walk any faster, Nikki? This isn’t one of your stupid track contests you know.” Despite her long legs, the tall, thin girl struggled to keep up with her much shorter friend, who was speed-walking while expertly dodging other students who were also struggling to get to their next class before the passing period bell rang.
“It’s called a track meet, Willow, not a contest, and we wouldn’t have to walk so quickly if you hadn’t spent half the passing period talking to Serena about her hair. Besides,” Nikki flashed her slower friend an impish grin,” a little hallway hockey wouldn’t hurt you. You might even drop a couple of pounds.”
That stopped Willow right in her tracks, which Nikki noticed from the corner of her eye. She looked back and saw Willow’s eyes get both misty and angry at the same time. Uh oh, Nikki knew she had pushed her friend’s buttons a little too hard this time.
“That’s just mean, Nikki,” Willow finally blurted out. “You know I’ve been trying to lose weight before the 8th grade dance. We can’t all be perfect and athletic like you.” She pushed her brown bangs out of her eyes and folded her arms dramatically.
Willow stood there refusing to budge. Nikki, in the meantime, had little patience for this. Good grief, she wondered, did somebody spike Willow’s breakfast cereal with extra hormones this morning? Speaking calmly, Nikki tried to calm her friend.
“Geez, Willow, I didn’t mean that. You’re the skinniest person I know. Your parents gave you the perfect name because you’re as thin as a stick. You don’t need to lose weight, you need to gain it.” Nikki looked at her friend, who clearly wasn’t mollified by Nikki’s attempt at cleverness. Oh well, time for plan B, she thought.
“Okay, Willow, I’m really sorry if I hurt your feelings. It’s just that, you know I hate to be late for class, even if it’s just P.E.” Nikki looked expectantly at her lanky friend. Her dad had always told her “a little apology goes a long way” and she hoped that was the case this time. Nikki’s father probably told her this knowing full well that she would have to apologize to people a lot during her adolescence. As smart as Nikki was, her social skills were often lacking.
Willow pouted for a second longer before deciding that Nikki was sincere enough. She tossed her waist-length brown hair and turned her nose up slightly before storming past Nikki.
“Okay, whatever, Nikki, but you can be such a dweeb sometimes. Let’s go.”
Nikki paused for a moment before pumping her short legs to catch up with her friend. Okay, that didn’t go real well, she thought to herself, and what the heck is a dweeb anyway? I’ll have to look that up when I get home.
Willow Branch was indeed appropriately named by her parents, who probably thought they were being terribly clever when they stuck their youngest daughter with this moniker. However, the name fit her well. Willow was lithe and carefree, like the tree she was named after. She and Nikki had been friends ever since second grade. Even when Nikki was accepted into the gifted education program in the third grade and Willow wasn’t, they still spent as much time with each other as possible. They lived in the same subdivision in West Pueblo and played together every chance they got. During summers, they had practically lived together, especially since Nikki’s dad still taught two or three summer sessions at the university and was gone for sometimes four or five hours a day.
Whenever Nikki’s dad worked at Colorado State University in Pueblo, he either dropped her off at the daycare at the university or at a friend’s house, although this year he told Nikki that she was old enough to sometimes be home by herself now that she was almost in high school.
When Dr. Jones’ wife died four years ago, he struggled at first, but soon found out that their small circle of friends were quite willing to help. Especially Willow’s mom. She and Nikki’s mom had also become friends, as their daughters bonded in elementary school. Mrs. Branch had practically adopted Nikki when her mom was really struggling with her illness near the end. Nikki almost considered Mrs. Branch to be a second mother to her. Almost.
Nikki was getting old enough now to see that Mrs. Branch was acting like more than just a friend to her dad, and Nikki wasn’t sure if she liked that at all. It made her uncomfortable in a way she couldn’t explain. Nikki hated not being to explain her own thoughts.
Willow’s mother had been divorced for three years now and seemed to go out of her way to talk to Dr. Jones every chance she could. Still, Nikki suspected that her dad was too clueless to see the freight train that was heading right for him. For now anyway. Nikki’s mom once told her that her father was a little dense about people sometimes and she practically had to talk him through their marriage proposal. Still, he would start getting the hints sooner or later, and that could be trouble. Nikki would have to keep an eye on that situation. Mrs. Branch was a little too much like her daughter sometimes, in Nikki’s estimation.
Nikki and Willow did indeed arrive late for P.E. Mrs. Strickmeyer, the stout and stern P.E. teacher, gave them the usual punishment, which consisted of doing one extra lap around the perimeter of the gym floor, near the end of the period, for each minute they were late. While the other kids counted off the laps of the late-comers, Nikki, Willow, and a small group of other boys and girls jogged around the outside of the basketball court. The rest of the class did cool-down stretches and dutifully counted the progress of the runners, careful not to add their own comments lest Mrs. Strickmeyer insist that they join the joggers.
Most of the kids plodded along grudgingly, resenting every step of the extra laps they had to do. There was one exception, however. Nikki ran like a gazelle, smooth and effortless, her shoulder-length blond hair bouncing rhythmically, trailing behind her like a banner. Though small for her age, Nikki could run faster than any girl in her middle school and most of the boys, too. If she didn’t have the wind in her hair, she made her own wind. No, she didn’t consider the extra running as punishment at all, and she beamed at Mrs. Strickmeyer as she started her last lap.
Catching up to Willow and some of the other stragglers, Nikki gave her friend a playful poke in the back as she lapped the other kids, who were still struggling with their final lap. As Nikki flashed by the others, Willow gave her a look. The look wasn’t kind and it wasn’t full of envy. It was just a look. Not a very nice look at all, actually.
Walking to third-period class, Nikki made a mental note to visit Mrs. Gillette during lunch. She was the coordinator for the middle school gifted education program and had known Nikki since sixth grade. They had a special relationship with each other and Mrs. Gillette had always considered Nikki to be one of the program’s biggest success stories. She had spent many a lunch block chatting with Nikki.
Although Nikki was considered to be globally gifted, which means she was highly intelligent in all academic areas, she loved math and science the best, and was constantly finding numbers and patterns in all aspects of life. She hoped to one day become a mathematician or physicist, although her dad thought she was far too young to be thinking about a career just yet. Still, he knew better than to discourage her dreams. Once Nikki had a goal in mind, she sank her teeth into it like a pit bull and never let go.
Though there was still nearly a month of school left, Nikki wanted to talk to Mrs. Gillette about what honors classes she could take in high school next year. She was already double-accelerated in her middle school math classes and hoped to take pre-calculus in her freshman year of high school, if they would let her. She also wanted to make sure she still had her 4.0 grade point average. It wouldn’t do at all to slip to second place in the rankings. Nikki felt a twinge of apprehension when she thought about entering high school. Her normal self-assurance grew weak at the knees when she thought about how she was going to be a very small fish in a very large pond.
She sighed heavily and slipped into her world history class.
* * *
The rest of the day marched along like a weary soldier. This time of year, eighth graders were restless souls that could feel the end of the school year, as though it were a living, breathing entity. Even Nikki, the rare exception who enjoyed academics, just muddled through the afternoon periods. What she was really looking forward to was track practice after school. Academics was easy, but track really tested her mettle. But what really made today special was simply that it was Tuesday. Terrific Tuesday.
On Tuesdays, track practice went from 4:00 to 5:00, which meant that Nikki had almost three undisturbed hours to herself afterwards. Her dad taught evening classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, which he hated, but which delighted Nikki to no end. In the past, Nikki would stay at a friend’s house until her dad picked her up, but this semester, he let Nikki stay home by herself. How do you spell freedom for a 13-year old? A vacant house.
Track practice was exceptionally unexceptional on this day. Warm-up stretches, followed by warm-up laps, followed by sprints, cool-down laps, and more stretches. Yes, the coaches were definitely not being creative today. However, this was usually the case the day before a meet. After practice, Nikki got in line to get her information sheet for tomorrow, which included her events, times, and directions to the stadium. Then it was time for some liquid refreshment. Even though it was springtime, typically still a cool time of year in Colorado, it had already been getting into the high-eighties in Pueblo. Nikki was parched and in the mood for something besides water.
West Pueblo Middle School was indeed fortunate to have a convenience store merely a block away from its campus. It was, well … convenient. It also did a booming business after school got out and a second surge occurred following the conclusion of the after-school practices. Nikki walked leisurely towards the convenience store, knowing that CJ would be too busy to talk to her for a while.
As Nikki walked west, she gazed in the distance at the faint peaks of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. The haze made it difficult to tell, but there still seemed to be a lot of snow on them. Too much snow, she thought. Right now the mountains were silent, but, in June, she would hear them calling to her again. They always did.
As she approached the double-doors of the convenience store, a gaggle of girls exploded out of it, giggling at some private joke, or perhaps at something CJ had said. Oh, yes, he was quite the charmer. A couple of the girls glanced at Nikki, and then just as quickly, looked away. Nikki was not in their social circle, and she was fine with that.
Nikki waited for the girls to stroll out of the way before opening the door. She was immediately greeted by a waft of cool air and the smell of freshly-brewed coffee. She breathed in deeply through her nose, appreciating the aroma of the coffee beans, although today she had something colder in mind. She made a beeline for the smoothie machine, looking at CJ out of the corner of her eye. He was still busy handling customers.
“Hey Nik-Nik, what’s the word of the day?” CJ shouted over the sound of the ice dispenser at the soda machine. Oh, good, he had seen her, Nikki noticed.
Nikki turned around to look at CJ while still walking backwards towards the smoothie machine. She looked deep in thought for a moment before giving her response. “Cataclysmic,” she enunciated carefully, giving him an evil grin before returning to the urgent business of making herself a cold drink.
She waited a few minutes while CJ rang up the last of the customers. She drank a few sips of the kiwi-melon fruit-blast and topped off her cup again. She hoped that CJ hadn’t seen her do that, but when she looked up, he was looking right at her. He waggled his finger at her in reproach, but she pretended not to see him as she walked towards the counter.
The tall, gangly clerk looked at her and then at the cup she set down by the register. “That will be one dollar and 63 cents, ma’am,” he added sarcastically, “plus an extra 17 cents for your second helping. There will be no sip-stealing in this store on my watch,” he added comically, grinning at his own humor.
Nikki lay down two one-dollar bills and watched carefully as CJ plunked down one quarter, one dime, and two pennies and slid it towards her. Okay, so he really was joking. Sometimes Nikki wasn’t sure.