Blood Diamonds (Aren't Red)

Thea’s head felt like it was full of hot pulsing pieces of metal, jagged and rough. Her eyes were shut, but she could tell she was lying on something flat and smooth, like glass. She tried to bite down, but there was something solid and damp preventing her. She turned her head to the side and spat it out. Above her, blackbirds circled and called.

“Fuuuuuck,” she hissed. Thea sat up slowly and took inventory of the creaks in her joints and scrapes on her body. Next to her was the branch someone had shoved between her teeth. She spat again and wiped her mouth on her shirt. Thea took in her surroundings: she was sitting on a bright yellow surfboard on the side of a deserted back-country road in her Oklahoma hometown.

She tested her ankles and legs; once she was satisfied nothing was broken, she stood up and searched her pockets. Thea willed it to be there, but she knew she left her coke back at Stan's Auto Repair. What she loved most about cocaine, besides the rush, was knowing in that in seconds – whoooosh – things would be great. She wanted it now, but all she turned up was a crushed lifesaver. She tore the plastic and popped it in her mouth, hoping to expunge the taste of dirt.

She heard a car approaching. When an old pick-up truck with a bumper sticker that said Totally Jawsome! under the image of a shark ambled up the hill, she thought: Of course.

“You're ok!” Trevor practically fell out of the truck.

“Thank God,” Clay said. “I don’t wanna go to prison.”

“Prison?” Thea rubbed her forehead, leaving a trail of mud and grease.

Trevor and Clay exchanged glances. “Nothin'.”

“What the shit you mean 'nothin'?!” Thea sneered. “I just woke up on the side of the road on a surfboard. Clay, I told you to wait until we cash in and get to California to buy that stupid surfboard! And someone better tell me what the fuck is going on right now!”

“Well, you kinda...freaked out,” Trevor sighed and starred at the ground. “Go on, look in the truck.”

Thea glanced in the truck and grabbed the only item inside: a 7-11 bag. Right away she knew something was wrong. The bag was too light, and through the white plastic she saw red.

“What is this, Bro?”

Trevor met Thea’s gaze, looking into copper-colored eyes identical to his own. “Hell, Thea! How were we supposed to know blood diamonds ain't red?”

“This is costume jewelry!” she hurled the bag into the ravine. “You went to Jimmy’s for whiskey before you went to Mrs. Attenburg’s, didn’t you? You dumb fucks!”

Thea brushed a strand of white-blonde hair behind her ear. Even covered in grime, her face was striking, her Roman nose perfectly proportioned to her heart-shaped face. She knew she looked like a model, and that was her plan. Those diamonds meant California and no more tinkering with transmissions or smoothing dents out of bumpers.

Also, coke was damn expensive.

“Don’t worry, Sis. We’ll go back,” Trevor said.

“Don’t you think that’d be a little bit suspicious? Y’all already told her you were with the gas company to inspect her lines. What’s she going to say when you come back and claim you’re HVAC repairmen or whatever?”

They were silent.

“Goddammit! Little 75-year-old Mrs. Attenburg brings her Bentley and yappy dogs into the shop wearing diamonds. I make one stupid crack to you about them probably being blood diamonds and we’re doing her soul a favor by taking them –”

“Damn, Trevor, she’s just as mad as she was before.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You were pretty mad when you saw--” Trevor stammered. “You were screaming at us, gesturin' and all, from the back o'the truck, and you just sorta...fell out.”

“I fell out of the truck while you were driving it?”

“We tried puttin' you on the surfboard to keep ya flat,” Clay offered. “We watch reruns of ER at Jimmy’s. But then we couldn't fit you flat in the truck, and we didn't have our phones—”

“Bullshit!”

“Maybe it was Grey’s Anatomy—"

“Why’d you shove a stick in my mouth?”

“In case you got seizures.”

“So,” Thea threw her arms up in exasperation, “is there an ambulance on the way?”

“Not exactly….”

“You left me and didn't call 911?”

“We started thinking—”

“Dear God,” Thea sighed.

“We didn't know if you were that hurt. And the jewelry—”

“The fake jewelry no one would have seen or thought anyone would be stupid enough to steal?!”

Thea glared, and no one said anything. She turned and hopped into the driver’s seat of the truck. Before Trevor or Clay could reach for the door, Thea punched down the lock pins of the ancient pick-up with her fists. Trevor and Clay stood slack mouthed, Clay clutching his surfboard.

Screw ’em, she thought. Diamonds or not, I’m getting out of here. Besides, the last thing she needed to bring to her new life was her brother and his idiot friend—

A sudden movement registered in her peripheral vision and she stomped on the brake with all her weight. She was thrown forward into the steering wheel and snapped back to her seat. She blinked to see Mrs. Attenburg through her windshield, an inch from her front bumper.

“Oh, hello!" she waved cheerfully at Thea, "You’re that sweet girl mechanic!”

Thea waved halfheartedly as Mrs. Attenburg crossed the street, cooing at her orange puff-ball dogs as they ran in panicked circles around her.

As soon as she cleared the front of the truck, Thea hit the gas, heading for home. She packed a few suitcases and threw them into her beat-up sedan. As she took off down the gravel driveway, the bumper sticker on her brother’s truck reflected in the rearview mirror. Totally Jawsome! Thea stepped on the gas and didn’t stop driving until she crossed the state line.