Taking Flight

Taking Flight

Siera Maley

Copyright © 2015 by Siera Maley
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Printed in the United States of America.

To my mother, who is my biggest fan and who has unabashedly and enthusiastically supported and encouraged me to do what I love, and to my beautiful girlfriend, who I hope I have inspired to write just as she has inspired me to do the same.

Chapter One

“And a sadder story this morning, now: tragedy struck late last night when actress Nicole Erickson was killed in a car accident after she swerved into another lane and was hit by oncoming traffic. Two others were injured in the wreck, but have reportedly been stabilized at a hospital nearby. Nicole got her start as a child with her role as the titular character on the 80s sitcom
Just Amanda
, but today she has become a household name, and it’s truly very sad that she’s passed away.”

“You know, Amy, I actually met Nicole about a year ago and she really was a very nice woman. Very sweet.”

“I’ve heard nothing but good things. Now, authorities have not released very many details on what may have caused the crash, but foul play is not suspected, and we expect to have more details later in the day. In other news—”

I raised my arm. It felt heavy, and I pointed the remote in my hand at the television and pressed “rewind.” The newscasters on the screen froze, and then began to recite their lines in reverse and at double speed until I pressed “play” again.

“Two others were injured in the wreck—”

I paused it, and then rewound again.

“—anything quite like those fireworks. We hope you all enjoyed your Fourth of July weekend. And a sadder story this morning, now: Tragedy struck late last night when actress Nicole Erickson was killed in a car accident after she swerved-”

There was a knock on my bedroom door, and then it flew open before I could pause the television again. Caitlyn took me in as I lay on my bed with the remote in my hand and a sheet of paper beside me. She glanced to the television and her eyebrows shot up.

“What the hell, Lauren? Are you psychotic?” She moved quickly, turning the television off before I could protest, and then rounded on me. “Give me that.” She snatched the remote away from me and tossed it aside, folding her arms across her chest after it landed on the floor nearby. “Watching it over and over’s not going to help.”

“It does help,” I protested quietly. But Caitlyn had five years of friendship with me under her belt, and she easily saw through the lie. Sometimes it was nice having someone around who actually paid attention to the things that I said and did. This wasn’t one of those times.

She sat down on my bed, and her lips turned down into a frown. “Delete the recording, Lauren. I know it’s only been three months, but she wouldn’t want you sitting at home alone every day rewatching two strangers discuss how your mom died. You’re crazy for recording it in the first place.”

“She wouldn’t care what I do every day,” I said. “She didn’t care back when she was alive.” Caitlyn looked like she wanted to argue, so I changed the subject. “Are there paps still outside?”

“They’re still there,” Caitlyn confirmed. “And they’ve got plenty of worthless shots of
me
, now, but you know it’s you and your dad they really want.”

“Where is he?”

“Passed out in the living room. How was court?”

I didn’t answer her question at first. I’d had a court date this morning for skipping class, of all things. It was my fourth warning this year, but even back when I’d had two parents, my mother had always been busy working and my father had always been busy drinking, so there hadn’t exactly been much parenting going on between the two of them. I’d had the freedom to do whatever I wanted for as long as I could remember.

That meant my school attendance hadn’t exactly been stellar, but I’d understandably been even worse about going this year, and that led to four truancy violations in rapid succession. The first one was just a written warning. After the second, I was told to attend a weekend study program. I didn’t bother with that, and honestly, I hadn’t thought far ahead enough to care about what the consequences were. So they gave me a third warning and told me to attend some kind of attendance review board thing. I didn’t.

I know it may have seemed like I deserved what I got, with a court date and an official sentencing and everything, but what no one seemed to understand was that I knew what I wanted to do with my high school career. I wanted to drop out, get my GED, and then get out of Los Angeles; daily public schooling had never been right for me, and I hated living where I did.

People across the country may not have known that I was my mother’s daughter, but the people here in Los Angeles that went to school with me did, and that meant that from the moment I started high school, everyone was constantly watching the girl with the A-list mother to see what she’d do next. My every move and every slip-up was overanalyzed and I got a reputation before I was ready for one. I was the “bad girl” by the end of freshman year just because I hated school and wasn’t afraid to argue with teachers if I thought I was right.

Or I was spoiled. I thought I was above the rules and could do what I wanted just because I had a famous mother. And I’ve found that when people tell you you’re something for long enough, you start to believe it. Caitlyn was always my best friend, but I made other ones I shouldn’t have, and they were bad influences on both myself and on Caitlyn before we finally toned it down a little and stopped hanging out with them, which only really happened right around the time of my mother’s death three months ago.

So anyway, three years of high school, a little bit of drug use, and a lot of alcohol consumption later, here I am, with one toe too many out of line. My fourth warning sent me to juvenile court, which could’ve ended in a lot of different ways, but my judge chose what he called a “court-approved truancy prevention program.” He told me my problem was behavioral, given my previous offenses, and that he knew just what to do to fix it.

Caitlyn was watching me expectantly now, so I simply reached over, picked up the sheet of paper on the bed beside me, and handed it to her.

Her eyes scanned the page, and then she looked up at me. “What the hell is this?”

“My punishment.”

“Well, obviously.” She shook her head. “Your dad won’t let this happen.”

“Are you kidding? It’s
my
dad we’re talking about here.” Caitlyn was silent. “I mean, he’s legally obligated either way, but I guess it’s also a lot easier to blow your dead wife’s money on alcohol without a kid around to take care of. And anyway, even if he didn’t want me to go, the court’s appointing someone to help personally escort me to the airport. I’m gone.”

“To Georgia,” Caitlyn deadpanned. “No way. It’s not gonna happen.”

“I’m leaving in three days.” I took the paper from her and stared down at it distastefully. “The judge is college buddies with this guy. David Marshall. Meet my new dad.”

“Bullshit. So you didn’t go to school for three months. They can’t ship you across the country for that.”

“Well, the way the judge put it, my dad wasn’t doing enough to make sure I was going. And our principal was there, and he decided to talk about the time I got caught with alcohol in my locker last year, so I was basically screwed after that. I’m supposed to stay with this guy until I graduate from my new high school.”

“For seven months? Lauren, they live on a
farm
. Look at this!” She snatched the paper back from me and prodded it with horror, picking out a few choice phrases as she scanned it again. “Horses, cows, and chickens…
devout Baptists
… Lauren, they’ll crucify you. You’re gay!”

“Thanks for reminding me; I’d forgotten,” I said flatly. “Obviously I’ll just have to keep my mouth shut about it.”

“Even if you could pull that off, you’re gonna have to go to church with a bunch of hicks. This isn’t even Atlanta, Georgia; they live in the mountains.”

“Which is why I’m gonna try to find a way back here the instant I turn eighteen,” I said. “They can’t make me go to school or punish me for not going if I’m not legally required to go anymore. And I turn eighteen five months from now, in March.”

“That still isn’t much better than seven. And how would you get back across the country? You won’t have any money.”

I considered it. I highly doubted I could get a job while in Georgia, considering I’d be up to my ears in crap from David Marshall: counselor extraordinaire, so that ruled out booking a flight. And I’d still need a car to get to the airport. I had to assume there’d be no one in Georgia willing to help me.

I looked at Caitlyn as the solution came to me. It was simple. “Come get me.”

She laughed at me. “Are you serious?”

“I’ll give you anything you want. You can even have half my trust fund,” I insisted, a plan already formulating in my mind. “They won’t let me take a cell phone, so I might not be able to contact you, but I can leave you my car keys. And then on my eighteenth birthday, you show up, and we Thelma and Louise it all the way back to Los Angeles and collect my stuff and my trust fund. Then I can legally drop out of high school and get my GED, and from there, we’ll do whatever the hell we want.
Go
wherever we want.”

“You do realize that’s absolutely insane, right?” Caitlyn asked, but she grinned nonetheless. “So of course I’ll do it.”

“Yes!” I tackled her in a hug and we collapsed on my bed, pressed together until I sat up, straddling her hips. She smiled up at me and reached for my sides, her fingers pushing up under my shirt and pressing against my hipbones.

“I’ll miss you, though,” she told me.

“I know. Who’ll give you the time of day after I’m gone?”

She laughed sarcastically and pinched me, making me jump. I got off of her and let her sit up. “So you and a grown man, living together,” she sighed out. “That’s not creepy at all.”

“I’m sure he has a wife,” I replied. I’d thought about this already. “And if he’s taking in kids, he probably has some of his own too.”

“Hmm. Maybe a hot daughter?” she suggested. Her way of trying to make me feel better.

I shrugged. “Doubt it. But she’d probably be homophobic, anyway.”

“True.” Caitlyn frowned at me. “I can’t believe you’re really going.”

“Trust me; neither can I. But there’s not exactly much I can do to stop it. I’ll just have to be an asshole once I get there.”

“It’s not fair. Your mom just died. Can’t they have a little sympathy?”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly a model student beforehand either. And I don’t know if the judge knew who my mom was. Our principal didn’t mention it and you know she kept her maiden name. Lauren Lennox and Nicole Erickson… no relation unless you keep up with celebrity gossip. They did recognize my dad’s name from his short stint on my mom’s old show in the 80s, though, and that didn’t really seem to affect their decision.”

“It’s still not fair.”

“I don’t know. Maybe everything balances out in the end. I have millions of dollars waiting for me when I turn eighteen, so this kind of pales in comparison, doesn’t it? Not that I want to go, but I’m just gonna be a pain in the ass anyway. I feel sorrier for the Marshalls. If they think a little hard work, church, and therapy is gonna make me into a well-mannered robot, they’ve got another thing coming.”

Caitlyn smirked at me. “That’s true. I can’t exactly visualize you working on a farm.” She paused. “Actually, I take that back. I can, and it’s hilarious. Do you even own shoes that aren’t heels?”

I held up a finger. “One pair.”

“Shit,” she laughed. “I wish you could bring a phone! I want updates.”

“From what was said in court, it sounds like I’ll get monitored calls. Like jail.”

“You’re going to redneck jail,” Caitlyn declared with disbelief.

“And redneck school,” I added.

“Redneck church, redneck farm…”

“Is there any other kind?”

“Shhh. Ooh, redneck parties.”

“Redneck kegger. I could be down with that.”

“Okay, we need to stop,” Caitlyn decided with another laugh. “So you have three days. We can’t waste them.”

“And what do you propose?”

She counted off on her fingers. “Clubbing for sure. Um… more clubbing. And getting you laid, since you’ll be celibate for the next seven months.”

“Five months, and says who?”

“You seriously think you’ll find someone to hook up with? Everyone there’ll be closet cases.”

“I have gaydar, and I’m hot. I’ll work it out.”

“Well, let’s make sure you get laid anyway. Just in case.” She paused thoughtfully. “And I bet Zeke’s replenished his vodka stash by now… At the very least, I’m gonna give you a proper send-off.”

*   *   *

We did go clubbing, but it wasn’t easy getting there. My family was a private one before my mom’s death. She married my dad young; they met on the set of
Just Amanda
when my mom had the lead role and my dad played a recurring character that popped in and out every few episodes. Her career eventually took off afterward and his died, but they stayed friends as teens and she remained his claim to fame, particularly when they started dating and then married in their early twenties.

My mom took a career hiatus to have me shortly afterward, and then went right back to work a year after I was born. She didn’t become
famous
famous until about a decade ago, though, when she played a supporting role in a movie that won a crazy amount of Oscars: like six or seven, I think.