Overflow (Part One)

Sunlight poured down from the clear, blue sky, signaling a perfect day for the pool. Charlotte shoved her favorite purple towel into her beach bag, her heart giddy with excitement. Madi had called and they were going to steal their favorite chairs by the left side of pool before anyone could claim them. "Charlotte!" her mother yelled from downstairs.
She sighed, then peeked her head out of her doorway and yelled back, "What?"
"Jeff is life- guarding today and he can give you a ride!"
A wide grin stretched across her face and she laughed, sure that this would be the best day ever. "Okay!" She paused. "Hey, Mom! Do you have two bucks for me to get into the pool?"
The response sent her heart pumping into overdrive with delight. "Sure, honey! Be back by six!"
---
I had jagged toenails.
As my hazel eyes scanned over my disfigured cuticles?, my right hand absently played with a wayward strand of blond hair and an involuntary sigh escaped from between my lips. The strand fluttered out of my fingers from the puff of air, and my nose caught a whiff of hamburgers sizzling on a grill. My stomach distantly rumbled, too quietly for my ears to notice.
Jagged toenails were a trait impossible to avoid in the genetic line of the Slights. No matter how many times I had clipped them into semi-perfect half circles, they always managed to grow back chipped and uneven. Someone had vaguely suggested calcium pills, which had worked up until two weeks ago. Since then I had simply given in to the fact that jagged they were and jagged they would remain.
"Charlotte."
My ear twitched.
"Yes?" I drawled, absorbed in thoughts.
"Come here a sec."
My eyes flickered over to my mother, who was tapping her right foot on the dirt ground and impatiently staring at me. I assigned the disappointment flooding her eyes to the fact that I was relaxing in my comfortable blue chair rather than assisting her in the many chores needed to be completed in order to pull off dinner. Slowly my legs untangled themselves and I heaved myself into a standing position. "What do you want me to do?"
"You see that bucket?" Mother asked, motioning to the worn-out red pail leaning against our beige Mercury Sable. In fact, it was starting to pale to an orange-like color, and the sides sagged, threatening to cave in at any moment. Nodding, I sauntered over to it and scooped it up by the handle.
"You want me to fill it up or something?"
Mother looked up from where she had resumed cutting up carrots for dinner and nodded with annoyance, waving me off towards the water spicket about a quarter of a mile away from our campsite. Ambling at a deliberately sluggish pace that would infuriate Mother to no end, I glanced down at my feet, comfortably positioned in cute, purple flip flops, and watched one foot place itself in front of the other, completely unbothered by the fact that my world was moving in slow-motion. Ever since the accident, life existed in slow-motion for me and in fast-motion for Mother. As for Dad...well, he lived in his own world, where the pain and sorrow was shoved away and practically nonexistent.
"Charlotte, you better move a little faster, or by the time you get back dinner will be dished out and eaten!" I heard Mother holler from back in the tent. The corners of my mouth turned up slightly and I picked up my pace, listening to the quick patter of my footsteps against the dirt.
As I was filling up the bucket with cold, camp water (the kind where it always tastes slightly of copper, no matter how much it sparkles), my thoughts drifted into oblivion again, as they usually did these days. Before a second seemed to pass, I felt the pail feel undeniably heavy in my hands, and I glanced down, surprised. The water was rising rapidly towards the brim and threatened to spill over right when I twisted the handle back. I stared down at the nearly overflowing bucket, when a lone drop fell from the faucet, plopping into it. Immediately, a wave of water catapulted over the edge and splashed over my left foot.
Funny how one little drop could do that much damage.
"Charlotte!" I heard my mother call.
Sighing, I tramped back to camp, ignoring the splashes of water that flew from the bucket with each step.
---
"Hey, Lot," Jeff grinned from the driver's seat of his new car. "Got money?"
"Yep." Charlotte slid in the front seat and smiled back at him. "Drive on."
Her older brother rolled his eyes and started the ignition, then shifted into reverse. As the car rolled down their driveway, he asked her a few questions about her new schedule, which she had just received from the local high school that very morning. They chatted companionably for a few minutes, and then he pulled up into the pool's parking lot.
Right when she was about to leave him at the front desk, his post, he shoved two dollars at her over the counter and smirked at her gasp. "I owed you anyways," he gruffly admitted, running his hand through his thick brown hair.
Charlotte laughed, kissed her brother's cheek (ignoring his grimace), then ran to meet Madi.
---
"I just can't believe how much you have grown up, Charlotte," Mrs. Travis raved, passing the plate of buns to me. Her fingernails were nearly dripping with a bright shade of red nail polish, clashing badly with her tone of skin. Her chocolate skin accentuated almost any color...except red. I nodded politely as I randomly grabbed a bun off of the pile and handed it off to Will, Mrs. Travis' younger son of about eleven. Her older son, Braden, slouched glumly at the other end of the table, staring vaguely off into nowhere.
He sort of reminded me of myself.
"Well, we can hardly believe the changes in your sons as well. Especially Braden," my father jovially replied, always the cheerful one. In this case though, which didn't happen often, he was right. Braden had shot up to 6'2" over the year and had apparently burned off his baby fat, replacing it with finely toned muscles. I almost hadn't recognized him. I winced as my dad started to joke around with Braden in the cheesy way of all dads, acting all buddy-buddy and joking about sports. To my amazement, Braden didn't respond, his eyes barely flickering over to Dad. Interest shot through me. Maybe he was more messed up than I thought.
"Charlotte?"
Startled, I glanced over back to Mom and raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"
She motioned to Mrs. Travis, saying, "Jen wanted to know how your school year went."
"Oh." Reluctantly I dove into a brief monologue about the past year, which oddly enough seemed forever ago, rather than a mere month. I had been too absorbed with Jeff's-
Jeff. The name brought exploding pain to my forehead, and I rubbed my temples vigorously, trying to erase the pain. One second caught unawares, and I had blown it. My mind whirling, I gripped the bench with my fingers, twisting my face into a grimace and waiting for it to pass. His face flashed into my mind, and a sort of helplessness enveloped me, until I felt like I was drowning.
"Charlotte! What's wrong?" Mrs. Travis exclaimed, her eyes widened in horror.
"I...I have to go."
Cursing under my breath, I stumbled out of my seat and away from the table, barely noticing Braden's eyes, intense with curiosity, avidly watch my figure grow smaller into the distance as I lurched towards the bathroom.