Lily and the Wedding Date Mistake

by Seven Steps

  Kat still hadn’t come out of her coma. I visited when I could. Sometimes I saw Becks passing in the hallway, and he’d give me a brief wave and keep walking. It was in those times, when his eyes were on me for a split second before moving away, that I felt the most broken. I wanted to talk to him. To laugh with him again. Most of all, I wanted my best friend back.

  But those days were gone, and it was my fault. I owned that. I couldn’t handle being friends with Becks because I was afraid. I was afraid he would see the real me and it wouldn’t be enough for him. I was afraid of losing him. And so, I did whatever I had to do to push him away first, so he wouldn’t leave later.

  And now I was alone. Stuck between my feelings and a hard place.

  It was the absolutely worst spot to be in.

  34

  October came and went, and suddenly it was November, with only two weeks left until the carnival.

  It was a Saturday morning when Mom asked me to work out in the garden with her. It was an odd request. Sometimes Rose and I worked the counter at the store, but we rarely worked in the garden. This was Mom and Dad’s special place. The spot where they plowed and tilled the soil, creating flowers and bushes and fruit trees. They were good at it. Great actually.

  Meanwhile, I couldn’t even keep a potted plant alive. I guess the green thumb gene skipped me.

  Mom handed me a trowel and a small batch of seeds.

  “And now the hard work begins,” she said, bending down and starting to dig her own small hole.

  I leaned on one hip, tapping the trowel against my leg.

  “Mom, it’s November. What could we possibly be planting?” I asked. It sounded a little like a whine, but I couldn’t help it. I’d been miserable for the last six weeks. Plus, it was a chilly fifty degrees out.

  “There’s plenty to plant in November,” she said. “Daffodils, magnolias. Some vegetables even.”

  “Isn’t this like work for you? You can’t sell flowers for work and work in your garden for fun. It’s against the recreational constitution.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly. You above all people should know that when you do what you love, it’s never work.”

  “It is when it ruins your manicure.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Lily Bell. Get your hands full of mother earth for once.”

  I sighed. “Fine.”

  I dropped to one knee and put the seeds I’d been given in a little pile. Then I started to dig a hole. I didn’t know how big the hole was supposed to be, but I kept it small since the seeds were tiny.

  “Did I ever tell you how proud I am of you?” Mom asked.

  I smiled. “It couldn’t hurt for me to hear it one more time.”

  Mom chuckled. “Your father and I are so proud of you and your sister. You’re both doing well in school and at home. You girls never gave us any trouble. Your father and I appreciate that.”

  There was a strange silence that followed her words. Mom was fishing for something. Building to a point. I waited for the other shoe to drop.

  “I’ve noticed you’ve been different lately. Quieter. Almost melancholy. Is everything okay?”

  I dug my hole a little faster. “Everything’s fine, Mom.”

  “Honey, I can see it in your eyes. Everything’s not fine. You’ve been sad.” She glided my hair behind my ear, then laid her hand on my shoulder. “I’d like to think that you and I are close. Closer than a lot of other mothers and daughters. I want you to know that you can talk to me. Even if it may feel embarrassing or awkward. I’m all ears if you need me to be.”

  I considered my mom then. Her long wavy hair, her kind eyes.

  My heart had been so heavy lately. So full of… nothing. I wanted to let something in. Some… light. Even if it was just a little.

  I sat back on my haunches and finally decided it was time to let my guard down.

  “Mom, do you think I’m as good as Rose?”

  Mom’s face fell, twisted into grief. Then, she pulled me into her arms before I had time to protest.

  “Oh, Lily Bell,” she whispered. “You are every bit as good as Rose. Every little bit.”

  I hugged my mom tight, feeling all my insecurities rise to the surface.

  “I’ll tell you a secret. Just between you and me. You and your sister are similar in many ways. Not just in the way you look. Goodness knows that your father couldn’t tell you apart until you were two. Sometimes you gesture the same or have the same inflection in your voice. Sometimes you two say the same thing at the exact same time and don’t even realize it. But, in many ways you’re both so different. I’ve never met anyone with as much compassion for people as you have. Not even your sister. Your heart is so open. So ready to help. I’ve never seen anything like it. There’s so much good in you, Lily. Sometimes I’m afraid you don’t see it.”

  Mom sat cross-legged in the grass, and I followed suit.

  “I know all about having a problem with confidence.”

  “What?” I scoffed. “You’re the most confident person I know.”

  “Yes. Now it may seem that way. But when I was your age, I was very different. When I met your father, I was painfully shy. For nearly a year he would come around and ask me to dinner or the movies and every time I said no.”

  “Why?”

  “I guess because I didn’t think I was good enough to date anyone, especially a man who seemed so sure of himself. I was a mess. Flaky and emotional, a free spirit, absent-minded. I didn’t think I was worthy of love.”

  I bit my inner cheek. Those were the same emotions I’d been feeling.

  “How did you fix it?” I asked.

  “It took a long time. A lot of soul searching. Then, I started working in the garden in Grandma’s backyard. That’s when I realized something that changed my life.”

  “What?”

  “Comparing myself to other people was like comparing one flower to another. It’s impossible to tell which flower is the most beautiful because each flower is beautiful in its own way. It’s like trying to compare a Lily to a Rose. No pun intended. When I finally stopped comparing myself to every woman in the world, I started to realize my own self-worth. And when I started to love myself, I started to love him too.” She took my hand. “Lily, you can’t compare yourself to another person and expect to be happy. It just doesn’t work that way. The only way you’re going to be happy is to love yourself first. Once you do that, you’ll be unstoppable.”

  Tears ran down my face. My mother pulled me into her arms, holding me tight.

  For the first time, I started to feel my broken parts begin to mend.

  Mom was right.

  I’d been comparing myself to Rose and Kim for as long as I could remember, and I wasn’t happy. I was miserable. So miserable that I pushed away the one boy I actually liked. Maybe even loved. A boy who liked me back.

  My self-doubt had cost me so much.

  But how was I going to combat that?

  Mom and I sat together for a long time, talking and digging holes in the ground. She asked me about my life and the carnival, and I answered her questions. She seemed surprised that I’d been able to pull a carnival of this size together so quickly. But, to me, time had passed slowly. There were so many moving pieces I’d been focused on that I never took a step back to realize what we’d done.

  We were organizing a fundraiser that the entire school would attend. We would feed over three hundred people, play games, hold an auction, and even put on a fashion show. We had done a lot in a short period of time. And through it all, I’d survived.

  “Wow, Lil,” Mom said, sitting back on her haunches. “I think you’re ready to plan my next anniversary.”

  I smiled. “I’m not sure I’m there yet. I’ll definitely need a vacation first.”

  “You deserve it after this. What are you thinking? Your options are the backyard, your room, or you can be exotic and go to Rose’s room.”

  “Mom!”

  “What? I had to fix your car.”r />
  “That was an accident.”

  “Yes, it was.” She stood and brushed her hands off on her jeans. “Come on. I think tonight you deserve your favorite dinner.”

  “Chicken parmesan?”

  “Chicken parmesan.” She put her arm around my shoulder and kissed my hair. “Sometimes you have to celebrate yourself. Remember that.”

  “Do you think we can get some homemade pineapple ice cream too?”

  “You want my famous pineapple ice cream?”

  I smiled at her. “What can I say? Sometimes you have to celebrate yourself.”

  35

  Tuesday started off as a normal day.

  Until we arrived at school.

  Sirens of half a dozen fire trucks filled the air.

  “What’s going on?” Calla cried, pressing her palms to the glass. “It doesn’t look like they’re letting anyone in the school.”

  I went into full panic mode.

  “I don’t need this right now,” I said, pulling into the first spot I saw and jumping out. “It would be just my luck that the school would burn down less than two weeks before the carnival.”

  Calla jogged after me.

  “I don’t see any flames or smoke,” she said. “Maybe it was carbon monoxide? Or maybe someone pulled the fire alarm again?”

  “I hope so.”

  The student body stood in a thick crowd around the door. In front of them all was Principal Davies, shaking his hands for attention. I made a beeline for him, squeezing my way through the screaming, crushing crowd. I was breathless when I got to the front.

  “What happened?” I asked. “Is anyone hurt?”

  Mr. Davies shook his head. “No. Just a bunch of burst pipes in the gym.”

  My eyes went wide. “Did you say the gym?”

  Mr. Davies nodded, then his eyes widened. We must’ve come to the same conclusion at the same time.

  “What about the carnival?” I asked. “It was supposed to be in the gym.”

  “I’m sorry, Lily. The gym is going to be shut down until further notice. It doesn’t look like it’ll be occupiable for months at least.”

  My heart stopped dead in my chest.

  No, this couldn’t be. All the work we’d done. All hours and hours of talking to people in the community, gathering funds, scraping together donations, picking out decorations and now this?

  It felt like I was cursed. I wanted to cry. I wanted to give up on this whole carnival idea.

  But I wasn’t going to do that.

  I wasn’t going to break down in the face of a terrible situation and accept things the way they were.

  I didn’t want to be that girl anymore.

  I was not going to be that girl anymore.

  I pushed my way back through the crowd, dragging Calla with me.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, more breathless than I was.

  “Back to the car.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we have planning to do.”

  I took out my phone and texted Rose. She should have been here by now, or at least close.

  Me: I need you right now.

  Rose: Where are you?

  Me: At school. First lot.

  Rose: Be there in five.

  I zipped up my jacket and powerwalked to the car.

  “Would you slow down?” Calla said. “What’s the rush?”

  “Rose will be here in five minutes.”

  “There is a rumor going around that they’re going to cancel school,” Calla said.

  “How could you possibly have heard that in the last sixty seconds?”

  “Uh, because I wasn’t sprinting through the crowd. I was listening to people.”

  We arrived at the car, and I opened the doors and slid inside.

  “What’s the plan?” Calla asked.

  I unzipped my bag and pulled out the folder I carried around that contained every shred of paper related to the carnival.

  “What are you looking for?” she asked.

  “The sheet with the estimated attendance on it.”

  “The last time I saw it, Becks was adding some last-minute volunteers.”

  My gut twisted at the mention of Becks’ name. I’d successfully gotten through the last hour without thinking of him. Now his face came back in full force. His smell. The way he’d kissed me.

  I’d told myself I’d stop missing him eventually, but with each day it became harder and harder not to miss him.

  I swallowed and forced myself to refocus.

  I found the sheet just as Rose was climbing into the car.

  “I saw the fire trucks and I thought something happened,” she said.

  “Something did happen,” I replied. “The gym exploded.” I closed the folder and placed the paper on top of it. “We need some alternate locations.”

  “Alternate locations?” Rose asked. “The carnival is in two weeks. We need to postpone it.”

  “No,” I said. “We can still do this.”

  “We can’t,” Rose said. “Where are we going to find a place big enough to fit everyone this close to Thanksgiving for free?”

  “We can find a place.”

  “Oh yeah? How?”

  “I don’t know. I just… we have to do this.”

  “No, Lily. We have to push it back.”

  “I’m not giving up on this, Rose,” I said, my eyes burning into hers. “I called you here to help us brainstorm alternate venues. So, either help or leave us to it.”

  Rose’s face went pale.

  “Seriously? That’s what you’re saying to me?”

  “I’ve come too far to be told I can’t do this. I can do this. We can do this. We just have to believe we can. There’s no room for anything else.”

  Rose looked at me in disbelief, then her eyes slid to Calla.

  “Say something,” Rose demanded.

  Calla glanced at me, then at Rose.

  “I’m with Lily,” Calla said softly. “I think we can do it.”

  Rose shook her head, looking as if we’d just told her we were space aliens. After a while, she finally closed her gaping mouth and frowned.

  “Fine. We’ll find a new place.”

  I let out a breath. I wasn’t sure how I expected Rose to react, but I was glad she was still with me. We needed her. Heck, we needed all the help we could get at this point.

  A call was sent out to all parents that school was canceled, which left us open to go to the coffee shop and brainstorm ideas.

  “The lunchroom?” Calla asked.

  “Too small,” I replied.

  “The auditorium maybe?” Rose said, tapping her straw on the table. “That would give us the stage for the fashion show and the auction, and we can have the booths in the hallway.”

  I frowned. I didn’t want to have the carnival in the school hallway. That would make everything look terrible. Plus, it was just as small as the auditorium.

  “What if we ask Sherri Shepherdson for her father’s car lot?” Calla asked.

  I held back the urge to throw my straw at her. Calla knew just how much I didn’t like Sherri.

  “Definitely not,” Rose and I said at the same time. Then we giggled.

  “What about the football field?” I asked.

  “One word,” Calla said. “Weather.”

  She was right. Late November was not the time for outdoor activities.

  I threw my head back and groaned.

  “There has to be some place we can go.”

  We all took a sip of our coffees, racking our brains for an alternate location. After an hour, we finally got up and moved the thinking to Calla’s house.

  Calla’s mom opened the front door just as Calla put her key in.

  She raised an eyebrow. “What are you girls doing home?”

  “School’s canceled,” Calla said. “Some pipes burst in the gym.”

  “Canceled?” Mrs. Rogers pulled out her phone and scrolled through it. “I must’ve missed the call. I’ve been so bu
sy talking to the bank all day.”

  She looked at us, her eyes red-rimmed and droopy. It looked like she hadn’t slept in days.

  “I’m actually heading out to grab some things for dinner. Why don’t you girls stay. I’m making lasagna.”

  “I’m down,” Rose said.

  Mrs. Rogers was an amazing cook. I took her cooking whenever I could get it.

  “I’ll text my mom,” I said.

  “Great. Text me when you know, and I’ll see you girls in a little bit.”

  She let us in before she headed out and locked the door behind her.

  “Is your mom okay?” I asked. “She seems stressed.”

  We walked into the living room and flopped onto the two white couches.

  “She is. She spent her entire life investing in the Ivy Castle. Now it’s closing. She’s pretty bummed about it.”

  “But how is it closing?” I asked. “It’s nicer than Cardoza Hall.”

  “Yeah, but the Cardozas are a community staple. They’ve been here for a hundred years. The community is loyal to them. The Rogers are just upstarts, I guess.”

  I understood where Calla was coming from. Even my family had their functions at Cardoza Hall. It was just where people went when they had an event. I felt bad for Calla’s family. I didn’t want them to lose their business. What would they do? Would they have to move out of the neighborhood? I didn’t want Calla to move. I’d lost enough friends to last a lifetime.

  My mom said it was okay for us to eat dinner at Calla’s, which was great by me.

  That night, we ate lasagna on TV trays in Calla’s living room while we watched a Family Feud rerun.

  “Why the long faces, girl?” Mrs. Rogers asked. “You’re supposed to be happy when you have a day off from school.”

  “We are,” I said. “But we were supposed to have the carnival in the gym. Now that the gym is going to be closed for the foreseeable future, we’re in a bind.”

  She nodded slowly.

  “I may be able to help with that,” she said.

  I sat up straight in my chair.

  “You can?”

  “The Ivy Castle isn’t shuttering until the beginning of next month. That is, unless we can drum up some business. It should be big enough for your carnival.”