Nevena

“I’m just packing like you told me,” I said, even though my mouth was as dry as the desert. “Isn’t this what you wanted me to do?”

“Why are you packing shampoo and clothes in your backpack? They will throw it out at TSA, you know that.”

“Oh,” I said, not knowing what lie I should come up with next. “Right.”

“Your suitcase is in the storage in the entrance corridor,” said my mother. “I just came to apologize for slapping you earlier and losing my temper. I shouldn’t have done that, and I’m sorry.”

“I shouldn’t have been that rude to you,” I said, even though it was only a half-felt apology. I was only going to fully forgive her once she was on her way to Serbia and I was safely hidden at Rachel’s backyard shed. “I’m sorry as well.”

“Princezo moja,” said my mom, and she opened her arms for a hug, which I gladly accepted just because I was a terrible liar and I wanted to hide my face from her before she noticed that I was up to no good. Somehow, my mom could always eventually tell when I was lying. “I know you were looking forward to your concert with Rachel, but I will pay you back the money you spent for the ticket, and you can still sell it, all right?”

“It’s whatever, mom,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“And you can go to this Griffin’s party tonight,” said my mom, completely throwing me off. “But only if you promise you’ll be home by ten o’clock.”

“Eleven,” I said.

“Ten fifteen, or you’re not going.”

“Okay, fine.”

My mom smiled at me, but I could still see the hurt that I caused her before in her eyes. Suddenly, I felt guilty for planning on skipping out on her just like that, but I hated Serbia and her love for Serbia and I wasn’t going to spend four months there, even if my grandmother really was dying. I’m sorry, but I just wanted to feel like a normal American teenager sometimes, but it was very hard to do so with a mother like my own.

“I’ll be back at ten thirty, and you better be home tonight or you will be in big trouble.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said vaguely, and my mom was on her way to work. As soon as she was gone, I waited ten minutes, in case she came back home because she forgot her apron or something, and finished packing, and after that I just slipped outside and I called Rachel again.

“I’m already down here, but hurry up because I didn’t technically tell my mom that I was borrowing her car.”

Rachel already had her driver’s license, and I didn’t even have a permit yet, even though I was going to be an adult in half a year. My mom said that teenagers drove way too young in America and she said that I had to wait until I was eighteen to get my driver’s license – the same age when all the teenagers got their licenses in Serbia – just another proof of how alien I was in the country that was actually my birth place.

I got inside Rachel’s mom’s car and Rachel stepped on the accelerator and we were headed towards her home that wasn’t too far away from where me and my mother lived.

“I can’t wait until I’m eighteen so I can move out, change my name, and shed that woman off of me as much as I can,” I said.

“Why change your name? I’d kill for a name like yours, it’s so unique and metal!”

“Because I hate it! She’s made me hate everything about Serbia with her behavior and all I want to do is feel like I am also an American, you know, because I was born here.”

“Being American is overrated,” said Rachel. “But I guess everybody always sees the flaws in their own culture.”

“My mother’s behavior isn’t culture, it’s more like torture. Dictatorship,” I said. “I think I’m going to let Griffin call me N. What kind of name is Nevena anyways?”

“Babes, you’re not just a letter. N. What the hell? Nevena is a good name. You should be a bit prouder of your heritage and where you come from, instead of being so ashamed of it and hating on it all the time.”

“Rachel, I love you, and I appreciate you helping me out here, but kindly shut up. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Fine,” said Rachel nonchalantly, but I knew she was livid at me. That’s how she always acted when she was really mad and nothing got Rachel angrier that being told to shut up. “I will shut up.”

And of course, she blasted her death metal songs through her mom’s car’s speakers at full blast until we arrived at her house.

We went around the back first so I can drop off my backpack in the shed (“Don’t you dare forget it in the car, my mom would kill me!”) and then we went to the house to say hi to Rachel’s mom, Ms. Fredericks, and went to Rachel’s room to get ready.

Rachel got angry easily, but the good thing about her is that she held no grudges, and by the time we were done putting on make-up and choosing our outfits, she completely forgot that she was supposed to be mad at me for telling her to shut up.

At seven o’clock we were finally ready. Jessica was texting us to ask us where we were. She was already at Griffin’s house, and suddenly I felt that familiar excitement in my stomach for getting to see Griffin again, which was snuffed out by the deep shame I felt because he was Jessica’s boyfriend. But Jessica broke up with her boyfriends usually in a month or two and it’s not like she was serious about Griffin. Plus, he was totally not her type, because Jessica always said she liked the bad boys and Griffin didn’t fit into that category.

“Do you girls need a ride to the Lockwood’s?” asked Ms. Fredericks from the living room sofa as soon as Rachel said goodbye to her.

“No, we’re okay,” said Rachel loudly, and she slammed the entrance door.

“Why did you not let her give us a ride?” I asked her.

“Because, Griffin lives only four blocks from her and my mother is probably on her fourth bottle of wine for today,” said Rachel as we both started walking down the street. The sky was getting darker by the minute, and the air was a little bit cooler than usual for this time of the year.

We continued on, chatting about the Twins & the Sailing’s new song, freaking out about how cute Bobby and Billy Lane (or the Twins) looked in the new promotional music video for the launch of their new album that was coming out next month.

“What is that?” asked Rachel suddenly, stopping abruptly, about halfway to Griffin’s house, pointing up towards something big and flying in the sky.

“It’s probably a bat,” I said, squinting to see better, but I couldn’t make it out against the black sky. There are thousands of bats living in Austin under the Congress Bridge. “It probably got lost and decided to come visit us from downtown.”

Rachel still looked up, but she continued walking on. I don’t know why, but suddenly I realized that my tough punk-goth friend was terrified, and her anxiety passed onto me as if we were connected by an invisible force. Suddenly, I was scared, but it was a different type of fear. Not the fear that a bat might suddenly fly into your face and make you lose your marbles, but fear that you feel in the marrow of your bones, something so primordial and ancient, like I was the prey and someone was about prey upon me.

“That’s not a bat!” Rachel shouted suddenly, her voice cracking. “Oh God. Run!”

My brain didn’t have time to process what was happening. I turned around and I started to run back towards where we came from. My phone started vibrating in the pocket of my jeans, but I ignored it. I’ve never seen Rachel this scared, and I had no idea what exactly we were running from.

And then suddenly, two strong arms wrapped around my waist and I let out a shriek, but there was no one around to hear me.

The next thing I knew, my backside was entirely pressed next to the hard, cold body of a guy that was flying (did Rachel spike my soda at her house to get the party started earlier?) and just like that, screaming Rachel became a small dot on the ground underneath me as I was swept off my feet and taken higher and higher up in the night sky, not knowing who had taken me and where were they going to take me next.