Mistakes Never Fade

Cheyenne's eyelids fluttered open that morning and the first melody that entered her ears was her mom yelling at someone over the phone.

"Now, you listen here, Chan! The company ordered that food for Thursday, not Friday! Well, I don't care what you thought you heard! The meeting is on Thursday at noon, sharp! That chinese better be there! We have been buying from Ling's for years but if you guys can't keep up, then we'll just have to consider a new caterer. What?! I'm not threatening you! I'm just stating a simple fact. Are you people that incompetent?! No! I'm not a racist! Oh no, don't you hang up on me, Chan! No! Ugh," Sara Leigh Sanders yelled into the reciever.

Cheyenne's mother worked as the president of a big advertising company named 'Zip-Zap.' They only named it that so they could own the catchy slogan, 'Zip, Zap, just like that your business is popular!' Cheyenne constantly found her argueing through the phone with people.

Once Sara had slammed down the phone angrily and hung up, Cheyenne heard her mumbling to herself and reluctantly slid out of bed. She quietly opened her bedroom door and tip-toed out to the kitchen. Her mom was sat down at the tiny metal bistro table in the corner. It was a gorgeous bistro set. Tile was underneath the glass and painted on ever piece was blossoming floral shapes and winding vines. The chairs had the same structure. The metal was glossed a marvelous, almost mysterious dark green. It looked like the bistro set was made out of bamboo.

As Cheyenne walked through the entry way to their large kitchen with granite counter tops and designer dishes, her mother noticed her.

"Oh, Cheyenne!" she greeted her. "People these days! Is it so impossible to find competent caterers these days? I mean, really! Ling's used to be such a top-of-the-line catering service... they were perfect - exactly what Zip-Zap needed. But, now... ever since they got ner management... the place is a complete disaster! Oh, it's so last minute! The meeting is next Thursday for pete's sake! Next Thursday! Oh no, what am I going to do!?" She ended her long rant by slumping her shoulders and resting her head in her palms. Big, distressed, over-worked sighs escaped through her lightly pink lips.

Sara Sanders closely resembled her daughter. She had the same dark black hair that all the Sander's had--except Mr.Sanders whose hair was instead a dark brown shade-- but her locks were cropped into a bob that ended under her ears. Straight bangs also spilled onto her forehead. She was a business women. She always had her blue-tooth in her ear. She was proud of her business and was always saying that she loved what she did but sometimes Cheyenne wasn't so sure. Her mother was always exhausted by the time she got home and she was always complaining about the 'horrible quality of people these days.'

Cheyenne started looking in the cabinets for some cereal, just letting her mother get it all out.

"Oh, Cheyenne. I'm sorry. Let me fix you up something."

Her mother started getting up.

"That's okay, mom. Honestly, I'm sixteen now, I think I can make my own breakfast," Cheyenne protested.

"No, no, honey. This is a mother's job. It's a maternal thing to make meals for your family."

Cheyenne raised her left eyebrow. Since when did her mother even make food for the family? They usually went out for healthy organic fast-food, or takeout, went to restraunts, or warmed up the icky green wheat mush that piled up in their freezer.

"Mom, I ain't six. I ain't eleven. I ain't three. I'm sixteen. Can't ya hear me? Maybe y'all should get your ears checked a time or two."

"Do not talk like that, Cheyenne Sanders. You're fracturing your perfect speech," her mother simply said, her tone sharp.

Cheyenne sighed and sat down. Her mother hated when anyone talked improperly. She believed that anyone who talked in their natural texan accent was retarded. Cheyenne had long since stopped trying to persuade her that it was the natural, flowing, Texas accent, and her mother should be proud to carry it on. It was a lost cause.

"So, did you and your buddies have fun yesterday?" her mother asked casually, but still curiously, trying to shift to a lighter subject.

Cheyenne was immediatly uncomfortable and wished she could flee from the room.

"Oh, uh, yeah. It was oodles of pure fun," Cheyenne mumbled up, half choking.

"That's wonderful. Who did you go on the outing with?" Sara asked the question Cheyenne was waiting for and also wishing that she wouldn't ask.

"Oh, y'know, just... some kids from school..." she beat around the bush.

"Yes, I understand that Cheyenne, but who exactly?"

"Um, new people, just met 'em."

"Oh, what are their names?"

Cheyenne bit her lip.

"Er, Chris... Drake... Emily... Veronica... Jane... Aaron..."
Cheyenne disguised each of their names, just in case her mother checked them out.

"Wow, that's a lot," Sara said, but Cheyenne could here something boiling under the surface of her voice. She got a migraine imagining that her mother didn't believe her.

"Seems like a lot of new friends... who are boys. Lots of boys. Boy... friends... Care to explain, Cheyenne?"

That wasn't what Cheyenne was expecting but still she started hyperventilating.
"Mom! There's 3 boys and 3 girls. Plus, there's nothin' to worry 'bout anyhow. And, once again, I ain't six, it's sixteen."

Sara Leigh sighed. "You're growing up so fast."

They both were silent for a moment, taking in that phrase.

"Oh, honey, I picked up some college brochures and entrance applications for you."

Cheyenne sighed and nodded. "Okay, I'll give 'em each a look in a bit."

"Fill them out too, honey," her mom reminded her.

"Fine, sure. I'll fill 'em all out," she agreed regretfully.

After she ate the scrambled eggs and whole wheat toast her mother prepared for her, she sneakily passed by the papers laying on the table. She'd take a peek at them later. Then the phone rang. She sprung to retrieve it.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Chey!" a high-pitched, soprono voice squealed. It was definitly a female.

"Who is this?" Cheyenne asked, puzzled. No one had ever called her Chey before, or any nickname for that matter.

"It's me, silly goose!" And in that instant Cheyenne was sure she knew who was calling her a silly goose.

"Hey, ...Emmeline?"

"Yup, you guess right! Yay for you! Such a good guesser you are, Chey!"

"Um, Emmeline, how did you get my number?"

"That's an easy one! Silly, it's soooo easy to get people's numbers these days. And all their personal info."

Cheyenne didn't know whether to be freaked out or flattered.

She instead continued to talk to Emmeline.