THE CALL
By Jeff S. Martindale
 

“Oh my God! It’s him!”

Brandy and Carol sat expectantly in the front seats of Carol’s hatchback, parked near a cotton field behind a grove of tall oak trees somewhere between the high school and her rural county home. The wait since they drove away from campus after skipping their last class had been interminable, and the cigarettes Carol had stolen from a nearby locker had done little to ease their anxiety. 

Brandy’s cell phone rang to the tune of “Joyful, Joyful. We Adore Thee,” the shrill sound piercing the monotony of the scene, easily overpowering the pop tune wafting from the radio.

“I don’t know—I mean…well…I guess it is,” Brandy babbled, nervously, staring at the buzzing phone lying between them. The two girls -- best friends, teenagers, practically women -- sat on edge. Carol dangled the butt of a cigarette out the open door, allowing a slight breeze to blow in, tussling their hair, cooling their skin.

“Come on, Brandy!” Carol blurted after a brief pause. “Answer it already!”

Brandy gasped. “What if it’s my parents?” she blurted with an obvious disappointment in her tone. She silently wished she’d spent the extra ten bucks for caller ID. 

She felt in her gut that this was the call she’d been expecting all afternoon!

Never before had the captain of the football team, a dreamy, muscular, blue eyed hunk and arguably the most popular guy in school, asked for her phone number. He had stopped her in the hall that morning outside Mrs. Peevahouse’s English class and introduced himself – like she didn’t already recognize him. She barely heard a word he said, her thumping heartbeat so filled her ears. Before walking away, her phone number scribbled on a scrap of paper tucked into a pocket of his black and gold letterman’s jacket, he said he looked forward to getting together.

She didn’t remember much after that.

“What if it’s NOT!” retorted Carol, stifling the urge to grab the phone and answer it. She flicked away the smoldering butt and reached under the driver’s seat, retrieving an unopened pack. She tore away the plastic and patted out a new cigarette, lighting it with a cheap Bic. 

“Gimme that!” Brandy hissed, extending an unsteady hand over the insistent phone. She snatched the cigarette from Carol’s grasp, quickly taking a long, comforting drag, blowing the smoke over her shoulder through the open door. Her hands stopped shaking. The butterflies in her stomach, however, fluttered like never before.

The phone rang for the sixth time.

“I’m gonna answer it if you don’t,” Carol said.

“Oh, no you’re not!” Brandy snapped, though the timbre of her words came out stronger than she meant. She offered Carol a rueful smile.

“Sorry.”

Horses and cattle roamed a vast pasture nearby, corralled within barbed wire fences that stretched as far as the eye could see. A two-lane road snaked through fields and around trees. The scene was idyllic, save for the incessant chirping of Brandy’s cell phone.

“Yeah, well, you’ll BE sorry if you don’t answer that phone.”

“You think it’s really him?”

“Duh!” Carol retorted perfunctorily.

“Okay—”

Taking a deep breath, Brandy stared at the ringing phone, scrutinizing it…

“Okay—”

She picked up the phone with a trembling hand—

“Oh my God!”

—put the phone to her ear—

“Oh my God! OH MY GOD!”

—and pushed a button to receive the call.

“Hello?” she said, wincing slightly, sounding more like a question than a statement.

Her expression a mix of joy and envy, Carol mouthed the words, “Is…it…him?”

Brandy opened her mouth, and tried to answer the question, but couldn’t. Carol presented an ‘I’m-happy-for-you’ façade for her friend, despite the sharp pangs of jealousy gnawing at her gut, seeing a dream materialize before her eyes, though not exactly the way she had envisioned it. 
 

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