The Locals Series

Chapter 2: MADISON

There are only three chain restaurants in town: Pizza Hut, McDonald's, and Hardee's. Yet another of the 4,724 reasons I want to escape Athens.

As Troy and Bethany pull next to Adrian in the small parking lot behind her future resale shop, I wave. She's surprised to see me in the cab of the truck with them. I said nothing about helping her tonight. She thought we only had plans for the morning.

“Surprise!" I shout as I exit from the cab.

“Madison, what are you doing here?" she asks, thrilled I tagged along. “Are you really so bored that you want to visit garage sales on a Thursday evening?"

“Not bored. I come bearing gifts." I extend my hand, which contains a little, rectangular box, towards Adrian.

Her fingers fumble a bit trying to open the packing tape, causing Troy to offer his pocket knife. When she lifts the lid, she finds business cards. A gasp of excitement escapes her lips as she pulls out the first card. A large, bold font greets her near the top. “Gingham Frog Repurposed Treasures." Her business is typed in black to share with everyone. Her shop's address, her cell phone number, and a website domain are present.

“I don't have a website." Adrian's brow furrows, and she chews on her lower lip. She feels bad for pointing out the error.

“I'm currently creating it for you. Winston and I have been working on it for a few weeks already. Turn it over."

She flips the business card over in her hand. On the back it reads, “Please feel free to drop off or call for a pickup of any items that remain at the end of your sale."

I explain, “Tonight, and in the morning, you can leave these at each garage sale. I thought maybe you'd get inventory this way."

I planned ahead and secured business cards; I'm sure Adrian is mentally kicking herself for not thinking of it.

“Okay," Troy interrupts. “Let's get going. Inventory won't magically appear on your shelves." We pile into the crew cab of Troy's old Ford truck, and Adrian directs him towards the first garage sale address.

In my hand, I clutch the letter I've been anxiously awaiting since mid-April. It seems so long ago that Hamilton drove with me to Columbia, Missouri. visiting with the baseball coach and team while I sat through a few exams. I'm nervous now as the contents of this envelope might speed up my studies at college.

I choose to open the letter in my favorite place. I tuck it into my shorts' pocket, then grab a bottle of water for my walk. From the front yard, I cross the gravel road and walk through the cow pasture on the gentle path among the green ground cover. I'm the only one to venture this way; my many trips have created this narrow path.

It only takes ten minutes to find my secluded spot. Large trees surround the fenced area. I easily climb over the chain-link fence that protects the forty-two weathered headstones. I find this old, forgotten cemetery peaceful. Those that lie here intrigue me. I've often imagined the lives they've led and families they left behind.

In summers past, I took photos of each headstone then used the internet to see if I could uncover any information on them. In my research, I found some relatives on ancestry sites. They were grateful for the photos I shared and the address of the final resting place of those they desperately searched to connect with.

I choose to sit near my favorite headstone belonging to W. Taul with dates of 1840-1899. Slowly, I slide my finger under the edge and tear the envelope open. I pull the letter out. As I unfold it, I browse the information one time then read it more thoroughly the second. The scores are high enough to test out of 12 college hours. I tip my head to the sky and whisper a prayer of thanks to Heaven.

My excitement is not that my tuition will be greatly lowered but that my time spent obtaining my diploma shrinks. With the 48 hours I completed while in high school and during summer classes, these 12 CLEP hours allow me to start as a junior this fall. I will only need two years to become a teacher. It's not that I plan to hurry back to Athens. I am not sure where I will decide to teach—I am anxious to start earning money that will allow me to start my new life away from this small town.