Labor of Love

by Rachel Hawthorne

  Rolling onto her side, she curled up and started talking really quietly.

  “Should we leave the room?” Amber whispered.

  “Nah. We can’t head out every time one of us gets a phone call.” I turned off the pump and tested the firmness of my bed. It worked.

  “What are we going to do if she keeps seeing him?” Amber asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, the other two guys will probably be there. I just don’t know if it’s such a good idea for all of us to hang out together. I mean—”

  “Why don’t we worry about it if it happens?”

  She jerked her thumb toward Jenna. “You don’t think his calling means it’s going to happen?”

  It probably did.

  “I’m too tired to solve this right now,” I told her. I just wanted to go to sleep. We’d been running around all day.

  “I know I’m probably worried about nothing. Gawd, I wish we hadn’t decided to visit a psychic.” Amber got her stuff together and went into the bathroom.

  I fingered the beads dangling around my neck. I didn’t know why I’d freaked out when Brady kissed me. Yes, I did. Brady was nice and that scared me. I didn’t trust him not to hurt me. Even for one night. It was a lot easier leaving him than it would be having him leave me.

  Jenna had talked about having a summer fling, but I’d never had a casual relationship. Drew had been my first date. I didn’t know how to date a guy without caring about him. And why would I want to?

  Why spend time with someone I didn’t like? And if I liked him, well, the more time I spent with him, it seemed like the more I’d start to like him, and the next thing I’d know . . . I’d be vulnerable again.

  The best thing for me to do this summer was to just hang out with Jenna and Amber. And if Jenna was with Tank all the time, then Amber and I would buddy up.

  I was probably worrying for nothing.

  I’d never see Brady again, anyway. Even if Jenna saw Tank, it didn’t mean that Amber and I would hook up with the other guys.

  Brady was no doubt going to be just a one night . . . whatever.

  Chapter 6

  “Okay, I’ve blogged day one of what I’m calling our Amazing Summer Adventure,” Jenna said, leaning away from the desk where she’d set up her laptop.

  It was the next morning. Ms. Wynder had knocked on our door shortly after the sun made its appearance. When I’d volunteered for this, I hadn’t considered that I’d be sleep deprived the whole summer. Even when I worked for my parents, I didn’t go in until just before the lunch crowd hit.

  Although I suppose I wouldn’t have been dragging so much if I hadn’t stared into the darkness for most of the night, thinking about Brady. Reliving the kiss. Wondering if he’d decided that I was a total nut.

  What did I care what he thought? I’d probably never see him again. Saraphina’s predictions were no doubt all jumbled up. Visions weren’t an exact science. Just because she’d mentioned hammering and a red cap didn’t mean they were in proximity. Last night was probably it.

  Of course, Amber, who was used to getting up with the cows—literally—was her usual perky self. She seemed to be totally over all the doubts she’d had the day before about the psychic encounter.

  She and I peered over Jenna’s shoulder. Jenna wanted to be a journalist, so she was all about reporting what was happening in our lives—with posting photos and all. And there was the photo of me and Brady.

  I looked…happy. And he looked…sexy. And together we looked…cuddly. An item.

  And I thought, Drew, eat your heart out.

  “So Drew is still on your friends list?” I asked, trying not to sound as interested as I was.

  “Oh, sure. He’s bound to see this.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I write interesting stuff, and he knows it. And he’ll be interested. I mean, face it. What we’re doing here is way different from what anyone else is doing over the summer. He’ll want to know all the delicious details.”

  She got up from the chair and I sat down. The room didn’t have much furniture except the beds, two dressers, a desk, and three chairs—two of which we’d raided from a lounge down the hall.

  Amber pressed up against my back as she tried to read what Jenna had written. “You didn’t mention Sean, did you?”

  “Of course not.”

  Jenna had written about our visit with the psychic but glossed over her prediction for Amber—no doubt because Chad was on her friends list, too, and he didn’t need to know that Amber might find someone better.

  Jenna hadn’t revealed anything incriminating. Still, it always unsettled me a little to see the intimate details of my life shared with others.

  “Oh, by the way,” Jenna said as she started getting dressed, “I might see Tank tonight.”

  I could hear the excitement in her voice.

  “Where?” I asked, trying to sound casually interested, instead of anxious to know if that meant that I might see Brady. Did I want to see him? I did. Scary.

  Amber moved away to start getting dressed, too. I decided I’d better follow or I’d be left behind. I pulled on the Helping Hands Helping Humans T-shirt that Ms. Wynder had designed for us to wear the first day to identify our group. It had hands all over it. What can I say? She was more into numbers than art.

  Jenna shrugged. “I’m supposed to figure out exactly where the dorm is and call him later with directions. He has a car. Said he’d come get me.”

  “That’s awesome!” Amber said at the same time I said, “Aren’t things moving a little fast?”

  I never would have asked that question before prom night. Sometimes I missed the old me.

  “I mean—”

  “I know,” Jenna said. “You got hurt and now you don’t trust boys, and you’re worried that I’ll get hurt, too.”

  “I trust boys.” I trusted them to hurt me. Drew had really messed me up. I hated that I was giving him that power.

  I sat on a chair and started lacing up my hiking boots. We’d been warned to wear sturdy shoes and jeans because we didn’t know what we’d run across in the debris. No exposed legs. No sandals.

  “You don’t trust boys,” Jenna repeated.

  What was I supposed to say to that? Do, too? So we could get into exchanging meaningless comebacks like two-year-olds?

  “Uh, y’all, do we have to wear these T-shirts?” Amber asked.

  I looked over at her and saw that the hands on her T-shirt were rudely placed. I dropped my gaze to my own chest. Yep, those little hands were sending a message that I didn’t want to send.

  Jenna started laughing. “Oh my gosh. I never thought I’d be so glad for a tall body. At least my hands aren’t exactly where they shouldn’t be.”

  “Considering the message, I don’t think we do need to wear them,” I said. “At least I’m not.”

  I jerked off my T-shirt and scrounged around in my suitcase until I found a faded T-shirt from a vacation my family had taken at Thrill Ride! Amusement Park.

  Amber and Jenna changed their shirts, too.

  I welcomed the distraction from what might have turned into an argument with Jenna. I was really happy for her, glad she’d met a guy who wasn’t bothered by her height. And I really, really hoped…

  I didn’t know what I hoped. That she didn’t get hurt, of course, because we were only here for the summer, and he was only here for the summer, and even though he went to college in Houston…. I suppose their relationship could last past our time in New Orleans. As a matter of fact, before prom night, I probably would have believed in it continuing after we got home. But I used to believe in a lot of good things, like love was forever and boyfriends were neat to have.

  Pancakes and sausages were waiting for us in the cafeteria. Several of the volunteers were already eating. Our little group of six, along with Ms. Wynder, gathered at one table. While we ate, Ms. Wynder went over the safety rules again: Watch out for critters, stay alert, don’t get in a hurr
y, haste makes waste, the usual stuff. When we were finished eating, we headed outside, climbed into her minivan, and caravanned with the other volunteers to the site.

  We were silent as we drove along, looking out the windows at the devastation. Walking through the French Quarter yesterday, having fun, it was easy to forget how ruined other parts of New Orleans still were. But we could also see the areas that had already been rebuilt. They spoke to the strength and determination of the people of the city.

  As my admiration for them was growing, my cell phone rang. I pulled it out of the case attached to my belt. My dad had given me the case because he thought it would make it easier to keep my phone handy and he didn’t want me to be without quick access to it. “In case of an emergency.”

  So maybe he and Mom were a little worried about me being away from home—at least, that’s what occurred to me when I saw Mom’s name pop up in the window.

  “Hey,” I said, after answering.

  “What’s going on?” Mom asked curtly.

  Her question wasn’t at all friendly. Not a what’s happening? It was more of a what trouble are you getting into?

  I was sitting on the backseat between Amber and Jenna. They must have heard her through the phone because they both looked at me.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Drew e-mailed me a picture of you with some guy—”

  “He did what?” That jerk! Why would he do that?

  “He sent me—”

  “Sorry, Mom,” I interrupted again. Mom hated being interrupted, but she was almost four hundred miles away. What could she do, other than growl? “I got you the first time. My question was more of a ‘what was he thinking.’”

  “So who is this guy?”

  “Just someone I met.”

  She was quiet for a minute. It was never good when Mom was quiet.

  “He’s a student at Rice,” I felt compelled to explain. “He’s here for the summer doing the same thing we are.”

  “Does Ms. Wynder know him?”

  Define know, I thought. She’d seen him if she’d been looking out her window last night at the precise moment needed to see him before he disappeared.

  “Yes.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping she wouldn’t ask to speak with Ms. Wynder.

  “It’s just that I know you’re still not over Drew—”

  “I am over Drew,” I interrupted.

  “—and I don’t want you doing anything stupid,” Mom finished.

  “I won’t. Don’t worry.”

  Of course, do we ever plan to do something stupid? It’s not like I wake up in the morning and think, “Today would be a good day to do something stupid.”

  “It’s a mother’s job to worry,” Mom said. “I just need reassurance there isn’t any craziness going on.”

  “None whatsoever. Please don’t worry, Mom. I’m fine. We’re in the van now, heading to the site.” I thought trying to distract her would be a good move on my part. “We’re looking forward to helping to clean things up.”

  “Yet you don’t seem to care about cleaning your room. What’s wrong with this picture?”

  I could tell that she was teasing and had gotten past whatever had been bothering her. We talked for a little while longer, then said good-bye. I told Jenna and Amber what Drew had done.

  “Why would he do that?” Jenna asked.

  I shrugged, surprised that he cared what I was doing. I hadn’t really thought that he’d read Jenna’s blog. Why would he? We were so over. Why would he care?

  “He’s definitely coming off my friends list,” Jenna said.

  I didn’t say anything, but I thought he should have come off sooner.

  “Everything all right back there?” Ms. Wynder asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. Just my mom missing me.”

  And my ex-boyfriend trying to stir up trouble.

  Chapter 7

  Our caravan pulled to a stop in a neighborhood that still reflected the aftermath of the storm. The street had been cleared of debris, but what remained of the houses littered the yards.

  No one said anything as we climbed out of the van. I thought I was prepared for this, but I wasn’t. It seemed like an impossible task, and yet I was also filled with a sense that we could make a difference. We could get this done.

  “Hey!” a guy called out in a welcoming way. “Everyone over here!”

  He was standing on a ladder, near the first house on the block, urging us over. He was older, much older. Probably as old as Ms. Wynder. He wore a black T-shirt with the French fleur-de-lis on the front above the words “Rebuild New Orleans.” He had curly red hair that fluffed out beneath his white cap and made him look a little like a clown. All he needed was the red nose—only his was very white, covered in zinc oxide.

  Another caravan of vehicles pulled up. I found myself standing on tiptoe, trying to see if I recognized anyone from the dorm or breakfast that morning. Okay, that wasn’t exactly true. I was searching for someone I’d seen yesterday, last night to be precise. I was pathetic. I didn’t really know what I wanted. To see him again, to never see him again.

  I knew he probably wouldn’t be at the site, but there was one irritating little spark of hope that wouldn’t have been disappointed if he showed up.

  And then I saw someone I recognized, the very last person I’d expected to see here.

  “Hey, is that—” Amber began.

  “The psychic,” Jenna finished.

  “Hey, Sara! Bring your group over here,” the guy on the ladder yelled.

  Waving at him, she herded her little group over. Wearing jeans and a tank top, with her red hair pulled back in a ponytail, she looked like a normal person. Her group was mostly guys, which was pretty understandable because she was really pretty—gorgeous actually. It took me a minute to realize that, because I was scanning the guys following her.

  Okay, I was doing more than scanning. I was seriously searching for the familiar red cap, the nice smile. Which was dumb, because if I wanted to see Brady again, all I had to do was tell Jenna and she’d call Tank and he’d tell Brady and Brady could call me…only I didn’t know if that’s what I wanted.

  But I didn’t see anyone I recognized.

  “Why is she here?” Amber asked. “Is she going to do psychic readings?”

  “Based on the way she’s dressed, she’s probably here for the same reason we are,” I said.

  “That’s weird,” Jenna said.

  “Not really,” I said. “I mean, people who live in New Orleans are working to rebuild it, too.”

  “Still, a psychic,” Jenna said. “Do you think she’ll let us know if she gets bad vibes?”

  Before I could respond, the guy on the ladder clapped his hands. “All right, people! I need your attention!”

  Everyone stopped talking and edged up closer.

  The guy clapped his hands again. “I’m John. And this house is our project.” He pointed toward the house behind him. “Working together, we’re going to gut it, then rebuild it.”

  Gut it. That sounded so harsh.

  “Gutting should take only a couple of days. We’re going to move everything out, put it at the edge of the street so we can haul it away. We’re going to remove the walls, the windows, the doors. The only thing we’ll leave is what remains of the frame.”

  We’ll be able to do all that in a couple of days? I thought. Amazing.

  “The woman who lives here is staying with her parents right now. She’s already taken all that’s salvageable, so anything else—just move it to the curb. Be sure to gear up. We have hard hats, safety goggles, and dust masks over there. Work together and be really careful because you don’t know what you’re going to find hidden beneath all this stuff.”

  Hidden? A shiver went through me. Saraphina had said I’d find something hidden.

  “Any questions, people?” Without hesitating a beat, he clapped his hands three times. “Then let’s go!”

  “I had a question,”
Amber said.

  “Did you really?” I asked.

  She smiled. “No, but he didn’t even give us a chance to ask one if we did.”

  “Guess he’s anxious for us to get started.” I caught a glimpse of Jenna off to the side, talking on her phone. I took out the work gloves that I’d stuffed into my jeans pocket earlier. Ms. Wynder had given us tips for how we needed to prepare for this summer of labor. She’d done it last year as well, so she knew what was useful and what to expect. I tugged on the gloves, grateful that I had them. Jenna came back over. She and Amber tugged on their gloves.

  Then we walked over to get the rest of our equipment. A line had already formed. Probably two dozen people were here, many already starting to walk by with their gear in place.

  “Does a hard hat leave a hard-hat line around your head when you take it off?” I asked.

  “What does it matter?” Jenna asked. “You’re not trying to impress anyone.”

  “Still, with all the gear, we’re going to look like we’re going into a contaminated zone.”

  “We probably are—with the mold and stuff,” Amber said.

  Once we were properly geared up, we grabbed one of the wheelbarrows at the edge of the property and rolled it closer to the house.

  “Why don’t you girls pick up some of the loose debris that’s still around the house?” John asked.

  I saluted him. He grinned.

  “You okay with us just tossing stuff off the porch and letting you take care of it?” he asked.

  “Works for me,” I said.

  “Good. I love a can-do attitude.”

  He walked into the house and several people tromped in after him. Amber, Jenna, and I began gathering any broken and rotting pieces of wood that hadn’t yet been hauled to the curb. Beneath one board, we found a doll’s head, which made us sad thinking of a little girl without her doll.

  John came outside and tossed what looked like molding cushions onto the ground.

  “Did a little girl live here?” I asked.