My Rebellion Checklist

By Susan Soares

Victoria Matherson's summer to-do list looked something like this:
1. Get organized for college
2. Complete summer job at Dad’s office
3. Spend a romantic summer with Adam

During the first week of her summer vacation, Victoria’s super controlled life suddenly swerves out of control. Her boyfriend breaks up with her unexpectedly, she gets in a near-fatal car wreck, and her parents announce the end of their twenty-year marriage.

Victoria decides to live life messily, to take chances, and finally to rebel. Taking on the new name of “Tori,” she creates a checklist of rebellion—#3 Get an extreme haircut, #6 Pierce something—which she’ll use to show everyone around her that all the changes to her perfectly organized life haven’t affected her in the least. Even though they have.

With the help of her quirky and cute co-worker Zack, Tori will check off the crazy items on her list and learn what it means to give up control and be free. But just how far will she go?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan Soares
• Release date: Mar 10, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311987617

Susan Soares

Susan Soares lives in a small town in Massachusetts where she balances writing fiction with raising her three daughters. When she’s not writing she can be found reading, experimenting with photography and planning her next Disney World trip. Susan recently received her master’s degree in Creative Writing and English from Southern New Hampshire University, and will be pursuing teaching soon. You can follow her on twitter: @susansoares1 and on YouTube: shewritesbooks, and on Facebook: Author Susan Soares.

Book preview

My Rebellion Checklist

Susan Soares

Copyright 2015 Susan Soares

All rights reserved

Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 9781311987617

This book is also available in print at most online retailers.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.

License Statement

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover design by Christa of Paper and Sage.

Cover photograph of girl: Copyright Depositphotos.com/xload

This book is dedicated to Victoria Soares. Thank you for sitting on the couch one day listing off different ideas of somewhat rebellious acts you wanted to complete. Without that moment, I would never have had the book title and idea come to me. Luckily, I love your tattoo.

CHAPTER ONE

Green, I said as I felt something jab my arm. Thoughts swirled in my brain like my morning smoothie in the blender. Where was I? Wherever I was, it was noisy and cold. Very cold. It was green, I shouted. The noise around me intensified like industrial strength air conditioners being blasted right by my ears. Where the hell was I?

Can you hear me? a female voice asked.

A wave of nausea crashed against my insides. With effort, I was able to focus my vision and look towards the voice. I saw a female EMT peering down at me.

You’re going to be all right. Do you know where you are? She asked as she adjusted something that was around my neck.

I don’t…I don’t… I stammered.

She placed her gloved hand on my forehead. You’re on a Medflight to the hospital. You were in an accident. We’ll be there soon. You just hang on. She rushed out of my line of vision, and I briefly saw a male EMT rush to my side where he applied something wet to my arm.

But how did I… was all I got out before a gray haze clouded my vision.

When I opened my eyes again, I was met with the woman’s voice swirling around me.

Sweetie, can you tell me your name again please? the female EMT worker asked as she twisted my waist-length hair out of the way, tucking it up near the crown of my head. She grabbed something from her jacket pocket—a small flashlight—which she shone in my eyes. I squinted in discomfort as the pictures around me began to get hazy. Suddenly, the helicopter took a hard dive and she and the other EMT were jostled around like loose change inside a tin cup.

Take it easy, man! the male EMT, who barely looked older than me, shouted to the pilot of the helicopter. As he walked towards my side, I noticed his white gloves were stained with blood. My stomach flipped over, and I concentrated on controlling my gag reflex.

Sweetie, your name? Can you tell it to me again? the female EMT asked. When did I tell her my name the first time, I thought. Her face was close to mine. A mask shielded her mouth and nose, but her bright aqua green eyes looked down on me. They were like lovely little tide pools.

Victoria, I said. My throat felt like I had swallowed some five-alarm chili peppers. Victoria Matherson.

From the way the corners of her eyes crinkled up, I knew she was smiling. I tried to return her smile when I was suddenly struck with a dastardly pain in my left wrist. My eyes shot to my wrist where I saw the male EMT plucking out shards of glass from the jagged cut. My stomach rippled, and bile formed at the base of my throat as I looked at my wrist and hand that was covered in an ample amount of vivid, red blood.

I squealed like a pig being hog tied as he applied pressure to the wound while wrapping a tight bandage around my wrist. My eyes cut left and right, up and down. I had to get out of there. I had to get back to my car. Back home. I had to get to safety. My arms were constricted and I made every effort I could to free them, but it was no use.

Victoria, Victoria sweetie, it’s going to be all right. We’re almost at the hospital. Try to calm down, the female EMT stroked the top of my head as she spoke in a calm, firm tone one I’m sure she learned in her emergency response training.

But as another blast of pressure was applied to my wrist, I caved into the pain like a bridge whose bearings had finally broke free after years of decay. It seemed to happen slowly and then instantly, and a worried look in those tide-pool eyes was the last thing I saw as the darkness moved in.

***

My eyes were closed. I wanted to open them but the connection between my brain to my eyelids wasn’t working. Their weight was too great. Or my brain was too weak to send the signal. Through jarring movements, I could feel my body being shifted around. Light and shadows danced across my eyelids like when I’d try to fall asleep with the television on.

I could hear people talking around me.

Victoria, I’m just taking the brace off your neck now, a high-pitched female voice said.

Okay, I responded, realizing it was only in my head.

We’re going to leave the room for just a second to X-ray you. Victoria, we’ll be right back.

X-ray? Why? Darkness and shadows flickered on my eyelids again.

I felt my body moving, and I could hear the squeaking of wheels and air rushing over my face. Where am I going?

Okay, Victoria, we’re doing a CAT scan now. I’m going to leave the room again, but I’ll be right back. Don’t worry, Victoria, just stay very still. Her voice trailed off.

There were noises all around me—hissing and beeping. The sound of sneakers squeaking on linoleum floors was coupled with the scent of bleach and floor wax. I heard a sound whirling around my head, like the sound of my mother’s coffee grinder.

Okay, we’re all done. You can relax now. We’re taking you to your room.

I can relax? I can’t even talk, so how can I relax? As the neurons in my brain seemed to fizzle out, I heard only fragments of sentences.

Head injury…

Parents called…

Eighteen…

Artery…

Non-responsive…

As the final word crossed through my hearing, I watched the shadows stop and it all turned to black.

***

I wanted to run, but my feet felt like they were stuck in tar. For some reason, I could feel someone’s hand squeezing mine, but I couldn’t squeeze back. Something pinched my wrist, and I wanted to yank my hand away, but I couldn’t. The scent of my dad’s cologne filled the air, and I felt my pulse relax. The voices around me sounded muffled as if I were underwater. Like a terrier tracking vermin, my nose latched onto another scent, my mother’s perfume. The mix of her perfume and my father’s cologne connected to someplace deep inside my brain. Slowly, I felt myself coming up like I was swimming up from deep under the water. The surface was getting closer and closer. The sounds were slightly less muffled, and then there was light.

"Mom? Dad?’ I knew by the strain on my vocal chords that I was talking out loud.

Michael, get the doctor! Get the doctor! my mother shouted. Victoria? Victoria, honey? Can you hear me?

Mom? I said as my eyelids fluttered, and I stretched them open. They felt heavy and wet.

Victoria, thank God. My mother kissed my cheek repeatedly.

Well, well, you’ve decided to come back to us, said a voice I didn’t recognize. I looked to my left and saw a tall, thin doctor standing next to my dad. From the pocket of his lab coat, he grabbed a small flashlight, which he shone in my eyes. How are you feeling?

O…Okay, I guess, I said as I squinted my eyes against the light.

Can you tell me your name? He asked while returning the flashlight to his coat pocket.

Victoria Matherson.

That’s good, he said. I watched him give a nod to my parents. Is anything hurting you?

I surveyed my body for signs of pain. Head, arms, wrist. Those were the major sources of pain along with an overall sense of achiness. Can I go home now?

The doctor let out a little laugh. Victoria, you’ve just come back to life! I’m not ready for you to leave just yet. A clipboard appeared in his hands out of nowhere.

What? Back to life? Mom? I looked to my mother who was locking eyes with my father.

Honey, we’re just so grateful you’re awake. She grazed my cheek with her hand.

I’m going to order another CT scan. At that point, I’ll have a better idea of when she might be able to be released. The doctor said before leaving the room.

Am I dead? I was so confused. Was I dreaming? What exactly was happening? A throbbing began over my left eye.

My dad stood on one side of my bed and my mom on the other.

Victoria you’re not dead, my father said. Everything’s going to be fine now.

Again, I watched my parents exchange a look that worried me.

Was I dead? my vocal chords strained.

There was the look again.

"Was I?" my voice echoed in the room.

My mother’s hand went to my shoulder. Honey, do you know what day it is?

I scanned my memory. Saturday. It must be Saturday. It’s Saturday. Somehow by the look in their eyes, I knew I was wrong. Right?

It’s Tuesday, Victoria, my dad said.

Tuesday? How is it Tuesday?

Do you remember the accident? my mother asked.

Accident. The accident! It was green! The light was green! Fragmented images of the intersection and broken glass and airbag dust crossed my thoughts. Panic took over, and I could hear the heart rate monitor accelerate.

Shh, shhh, shhh. My mother kissed my cheek and put her mouth up close to my ear. You’re okay now, everything’s going to be okay now. Just try to relax. It’s over. The nightmare is over.

I took deep breaths in and out as I tried to return my heart rate to a normal level. Even though my mom and dad both repeatedly told me that everything was going to be all right, something deep inside me didn’t believe them.

CHAPTER TWO

As my mother pulled and twisted my hair into a French braid, I picked at the container of lime Jell-O the nurse had left for me. The bleach-scented sheets were stiff and scratchy, and I longed for the softness of my Downy-scented sheets that waited for me at home.

How much longer before the doctor gets here? I asked my mom, who’d moved from my bed to pour herself a glass of water. It was Wednesday, and I was more than ready to go home after being in the hospital for five days.

Your father went to find out. There was curtness to her voice that I couldn’t make sense of. Was she mad that I got in an accident? The way she referred to my dad was unusual. She never would say your father; she’d normally say your dad. It was odd and too formal.

My wrist ached. The bandaging they’d put on felt like it was cutting off my circulation. I tried to make a fist but the blinding pain stopped me halfway. My arms felt gooey and sticky from all the ointment they had put on my numerous cuts. It looked like I’d gotten into a fight with a gang of alley cats, and they’d won. My head pounded, and I leaned it back against flat pillows that did nothing to support its weight. Through my open door, I watched nurses and doctors shuffling quickly past, all looking like wherever they were off to was the most pressing place ever. My brain scanned all the things I needed to get home to do:

1. Go to the beach with Rebecca—that was already blown once due to the accident.

2. Change over my closet from spring/early summer clothing to official out-of-school-full-blown summer clothing.

3. Clean out my car—since it was towed from the accident that wasn’t going to happen.

4. Change my sheets from lavender (spring set) to watermelon (summer set).

So I had to do all that along with about fifty other things on my ever-growing to-do list. Instead, on the morning of my very first day of my summer vacation—my last summer vacation before I started college at Boston University—I get into an accident and am stuck in a hospital room eating lime Jell-O. And I don’t even like Jell-O.

My mother paced near my bedside. Her long, wavy brown hair was scattered around her face as the loose bun into which she’d twisted it was becoming even looser. Where is your father? she said as her feet kept moving.

As if on cue, my dad stepped into the room. A coffee in one hand and a small, brown teddy bear in the other. He crossed the room to me, brushing past my mother, and kissed me on the forehead. I know you’re too old for this, but how could I resist? he said as he placed the bear in my lap.

Thanks, Dad. I held the teddy tight to my chest. I was too old for it, but I didn’t care. It was something soft inside the room of sterility and stiffness.

My mother stepped in front of him. You got coffee and presents, but did you get a doctor? That’s what I thought you were doing. My mother’s words were harsh, and my dad opened his mouth to speak but she continued, Victoria wants to go home. She’s been here for five days now. She wants to be in her own bed. She needs to rest. She doesn’t need teddy bears.

Mom, really, I’m all right. I’m sure the doctor will be here soon. I hoped my words would calm her nerves. She was obviously shaken up by my accident and was inadvertently taking it out on my dad.

She’s right, my dad said. I found a nurse who’s on her way to get the doctor for us. My parents locked eyes for a moment, and I saw my mother’s shoulders soften.

She turned to me. Victoria, I’m sorry. I just want to take you home. She stroked my back slowly, and the tension in the room seemed to subside.

Victoria? the tall, thin doctor said as he entered my room. He had a chart in his hand and a pen stuck behind one ear. His dark black hair was slicked back, making him look like an extra from the movie Grease.

Doctor, when can we take her home? My mother wrung her hands together.

The doctor flipped through his chart for a moment. Victoria, everything from your latest CT scan looks good. I’m going to sign your release papers now. You can check out anytime. He removed the pen from behind his ear, and I wondered if it felt slippery in his hand. He pulled a piece of paper from his clipboard. Here’s some information on head injuries for you to take with you. He gave the slip of paper to my mother, who quickly placed it inside her purse, which she’d already picked up from the chair near my bed and placed on her shoulder. She wanted to get out of here even more than I did. And I’m going to write you out a prescription for some pain medicine if you need it. You may be fine with something over the counter, but if the pain is too much for you, you’ll have this as an option. You’ll also have to make an appointment with your primary care doctor for two weeks from now to get the stitches removed.

The thought made my stomach ache. Will it hurt? Getting them removed? I asked as I gently rubbed my wrist.

The doctor shook his head as he replaced the pen behind his ear. You’ve been through the worst part, Victoria. You cheated death. No need to worry about a few stitches. You’re a very lucky young lady. That wrist injury could have made the situation that much worse. He handed some papers to my father, but my mother snatched them out of the doctor’s hand before my dad could grab them.

I was still focused on what the doctor had said. What do you mean it could have been much worse? The pain in my wrist intensified into a throbbing. Almost as if extra blood had begun flowing to that area, knowing we were talking about it.

That cut you got from the glass was quite severe. More severe than your head injury, actually. You nicked an artery. If there had been any sort of time delay getting you to the hospital, you would have died. The way he said it was so nonchalant. It was as if he said, I pick up my dry cleaning on Thursdays. Like it was no big thing.

I looked to my mother, who must have seen the panic cross my face. She glared back at the doctor. Doctor, I’m sure there’s no reason to say that. We’re all just glad Victoria is going to be fine.

You’re right, she’s fine, the doctor said. All I’m saying is someone was looking out for you young lady. You’ve been given a second chance. He tucked my chart into a holder attached to the front of the door and waved goodbye as he exited.

My mother grabbed a pile of my clothes and handed them to me. Why don’t you get changed now, and we’ll head home. Do you need any help?

I cheated death? He said I could have died. More than once he said it. The words fell from my lips like honey, heavy and slow. I reviewed my injuries: head trauma that left me comatose for two days and apparently sent me over to the other side at one point, and a nicked artery on my wrist that could have caused me to die had it not been for Medflight. But I did everything right. I started to wonder if I’d done something to cause the accident. I looked in all directions. I came to a complete stop. The light was green. Could it have been my fault?

Honey, I know you did everything right. It was an accident. Now let’s just get you home. My mother removed the sheets from my legs and started to guide me up and out of the bed.

My father moved to the other side of me, and they both lifted me up and began walking with me towards the bathroom.

"I almost died? But I did