On the Loose (A Katie Parker Production)

by Jenny B. Jones

  “Yeah, see ya.” She jerks her head towards the door, and I follow her downstairs and outside.

  When we get in the car, I check the time. “That was only four minutes!”

  Frances shrugs. “Whatever. Four minutes too long, I say.” The car sputters to life, and my fuming friend drives us out of the ritzy neighborhood. “He had his hands all over you. What were you thinking?”

  Mmmm, who was thinking? “He didn’t have his hands all over me.”

  “One more minute and he probably would have. I do not like that guy.”

  “Well, you don’t have you like him. You just focus on Nash.”

  Frances frees one hand from the steering wheel and grabs my arm. “Nash is going to the mission campout!” She shakes my arm and squeals.

  “Cool.”

  Her face snaps back into a scowl. “Quit distracting me. We were talking about you. Ever heard the word boundaries? I mean that guy was all up in your space. So not cool, especially given the short amount of time you’ve known him.”

  The radio blasts out “She Thinks My Tractor’s Sexy,” the accordion version. I turn it up to drown out Frances. “I have boundaries, thank you very much.” Don’t I? It’s not like I would’ve let that mini–make out session go any further. “Excuse me for paying attention when Gladys gave her lesson on kissing.”

  We drive in heavy silence, passing Gus’s Getcher Gas, Bubba’s Asian Cuisine, and the diner where Maxine will be eating before church.

  “So was it the same?” Frances turns the radio down a notch.

  “The same as what?”

  “Kissing the orange. Is it the same kissing Trevor?”

  I laugh. “Not even close.”

  After a loud and crazy meal at the Vega house with Frances and her family, we all pile in the family minivan and ride to church.

  Pastor Mike greets us at the doorway of the youth building. “Hey, it’s two of my favorite girls. How’s it going?” He sticks his meaty fist out, and I tap my knuckles to his.

  “Katie has something she wants to tell you,” Frances says.

  My eyes widen. I am not about to confess any make out sins here.

  Frances crosses her arms. “About the mission camping trip?”

  “Oh! Right. Yeah . . .I . . .”

  “You’ve decided to go with us.” Pastor Mike slaps me on the back. “I knew you would. I’ve been praying for you, Katie, and I just knew you’d have a change of heart.”

  Sorry, Pastor, but this week of spiritual outdoorsy-ness isn’t about me. I’m only going for Jeremy.

  He points a finger in my face. “I know you’re meant to spend spring break with us. I really believe it’s where the Lord wants you.”

  I nod and clear my throat. “Well . . . good.” Yeah, what do you say to that? I got nothing.

  Frances and I walk into the room. As usual there’s some rockin’ Christian music playing on the stereo. The small stage up front is decorated with white candles of varying sizes. And the room is filled with wall to wall teens.

  All these people here and my eyes are drawn to one in particular. Charlie Benson.

  No. I’m totally into Trevor. Stop it, Katie.

  Before I move my gaze, Charlie spots me. His eyes catch mine, and we share a smile. Then Chelsea tugs on his arm, and he turns his head to give her his full attention. I feel a strange twinge in my heart. I’ve never been a Chelsea. Never gonna be. And it’s never bothered me—’til now. Just once it would be nice to be the prettiest. The most popular. Have the best hair, the best smile. Have that indefinable quality that attracts the boys like the newest game system.

  The house band takes the stage and leads the room in a few worship songs. As always, I’m aware of Frances, so at ease and comfortable with totally getting into the moment. She lifts a hand in praise and closes her eyes, singing every word like a love song to God. Though it makes me a little uncomfortable, it is kind of cool how personal God is for her. Like they’re friends or something.

  Pastor Mike jumps on stage and welcomes everyone. “Guys, tonight I want you to just kick back and relax. You are among friends here.”

  He must not know Chelsea Blake is in the house.

  “Lately we’ve been talking about faith. About believing in God no matter what. Trusting him with everything you’ve got, even when it looks like your situation is hopeless.”

  My mind drifts to Jeremy, and I wonder if he’s saved. What’s he hanging on to? Nearly everything he owns went up in a twister. What gets him through?

  “God wants you to lean on him fully. To lay all of your burdens down at the cross of Jesus, and just . . . let go.”

  Is that what Millie did? (Aside from her kooky new herbal-meditative-organic chicken phase.) Did she just give her cancer up to God? How can you not hold onto it and let that worry eat at you? Maybe I worry enough for me and Millie both.

  The pastor reads for a few minutes out of his worn Bible. “In Jeremiah, God says he will fully satisfy the weary soul. And he will revive every worn-out and sorrowful person.” His eyes scan the room, but I would bet money they rest on me longer than anyone else. “Is this where you are tonight? Are you tired? Totally sad? Do you need some rest? Do you need God to tell you it’s time to give that sadness up? To release that fear?” Pastor Mike holds up his Bible. “Because that’s exactly what He’s saying.”

  How can I? Everything is a mess. Millie has major cancer. Angel is harassing me. And I just don’t know I’m ready to trust you, God. Where have you been? I’ve needed you. Where were you?

  “Are you ready to let God satisfy your soul? Are you ready to give it up? Because the way you’re doing things now—how’s that going for you?”

  Not so hot, thanks for asking.

  “One of the ways God works is through us.” Pastor Mike nods. “That’s right, he wants to use every one of you. We’ve got a lot of people in this town who need some God—who need some replenishment and lifting up. We have the opportunity to do just that over Spring Break. I need you to prepare your hearts and get prayed up. Make this coming week about ministering to others and be totally amazed at what God will teach you, how God will speak to you.”

  Is that what you want to do—speak to me? I’ve been here this whole time. Why haven’t you spoken to me yet? I waited for you, you know? How am I supposed to see you in all of Millie’s cancer business? In my own ragged past? Do you really expect me to believe you were there in all of that?

  “Next week lives are going to be changed, guys.” Pastor Mike sets his Bible down. His eyes lock onto mine, and his words shoot straight through me. “Will yours be one of them?”

  I don’t know, God.

  Will it?

  Chapter 31

  “Thanks for coming with me to get my dirty PE clothes, Hannah. I need to wash them before tomorrow. Maxine’s now on laundry duty and says if I bring home any more stale, stinky t-shirts, she’s gonna start torching them.”

  We round the corner into the locker room.

  “Hey! My jacket’s gone.”

  And find Robin Martin, a fellow PE classmate, digging in her locker. With Angel right beside her.

  Angel swivels around at our arrival. “Well, well. Look who’s here. What a coincidence. Robin’s jacket is missing, and here’s Katie Parker now. You know, Katie, don’t you, Robin? She’s the one who was suspended for stealing.” Angel moves in between me and Hannah. “Anybody seen Robin’s jacket?”

  Hannah looks at me and twists her long hair around her finger. “Did you happen to see it?”

  I stare at my friend’s doubtful face. “As in did I see it when I took it?” I shake my head and shove past Angel to my locker. “Thanks. Thanks a lot, Hannah.” With shaking hands I punch my gym clothes into my bag and throw it over my shoulder.

  “No . . . um, I just meant—”

  “I know what you meant.” Could someone just stick a hot poker in my eye? It might be less painful. “You know I didn’t steal anything. This is the first time I’ve bee
n in here today.”

  Angel stomps up behind me. “Parker—”

  “Not today, Nelson. I don’t have time for your drama.” I’m only a whisper’s distance from Angel. “You and I both know I didn’t steal anything. At any time. And we both know who is taking things.”

  Angel laughs and every head that wasn’t already pointed in our direction swivels our way. “I believe the evidence would tell a different story.” She holds up her hands. “I wasn’t caught with the goods. You were.”

  “Yeah, and I wonder how that could have possibly happened?” I can hear my own pulse pounding in my head. “I’m not done with this. I will get to the bottom of it. And when I do, you’re going down, and everyone in the school is gonna know you for the deceitful loser you are.”

  Our shoulders connect as I shove past her.

  “You can’t leave!”

  “Watch me.”

  “My mom will tell Mr. Wayman.”

  “Tell him Katie Parker says hi.”

  Angel’s angry voice becomes a blur as I race out of the locker room and shoot through the gym doors.

  The school day now officially over, I dig into my backpack and whip my cell phone out.

  “Hello?

  “Charlie, it’s time to move on your Angel plan.”

  “What Angel plan?”

  Boys and their one-track minds! “The plan you said you’d come up with. Remember? You were gonna help me?”

  I hear a muffled sound and another voice. Chelsea.

  “Katie, I’ll have to call you back.”

  “You’re bailing on me, aren’t you?” Why did I think I could count on him? “You didn’t come through with a plan to get Nash and Frances together, and now you’re worming out of this.” I end the call and walk outside.

  Five seconds later the phone vibrates in my hand.

  “What?”

  “It’s me. Don’t hang up.” Charlie’s voice is so low, I can hardly understand him. “Meet me at the Burger Barn after drama practice.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it. And bring Frances. I’ll have Nash with me. We’ll discuss the science fair.”

  “I don’t want to discuss the science fair.”

  “And my idea to redeem your good name.”

  “Do I hear you laughing, Charlie Benson?” Some of my anger drips off like PE sweat. “Because I did have a good reputation before all of this.”

  “Whatever, Mother Teresa.” He snorts. “Just be there.”

  “You are such a jerk.” Yet when I close the phone, I’m smiling.

  And twenty minutes later, when Trevor walks into the Valiant, I’m glaring.

  The boy, whose lips were on mine just yesterday, saunters into the theater with his arm around Pamela Gillham, a.k.a. Woman At Ball Number Four.

  His eyes widen for a split-second when he sees me. But then he sends his custom wink my direction, shares one last laugh with Pamela, and turns her loose. I guess this is what it’s gonna be like to date the school flirt.

  I wish I could give it right back though. I look at Jeremy, sitting next to me. Maybe I should throw my arm around him, lean in close, and—

  “I got a new prosthetic nose off eBay.” Jeremy sticks his new snout in my face and breathes through it like an asthmatic Darth Vader. “What do you think?”

  I think wrapping my arms around you right now would be so counterproductive.

  “Students! Students, attention please!” Mrs. Hall, in something that looks like a gypsy Halloween costume, steps onto the stage. “We only have two and a half more weeks until the play. I need you focused and ready. Every rehearsal should be your best. I hold you to high standards . . . just like I held my soon-to-be ex-husband to high standards. Do not disappoint me. Like he did. I expect you to not miss your cues. I expect you to be where you are supposed to be when you are supposed to be there. And sure, some people, like Mr. Joel Hall, call that whining and harassment, but I hope, unlike him, it won’t lead you to loose morals and overly bosomed tarts.”

  The stage lights hum and whine above.

  “All right, then. On with the show.” Our teacher climbs down from the stage and takes her seat in the middle of the first row.

  “I’d give my eye teeth to meet an overly bosomed tart.”

  I roll my eyes at Jeremy and pinch his nose. “Keep dreaming.”

  Jeremy and I walk onstage when it’s our cue. We practice the scene in which we toss our gowns on Cinderella so she can fix them for the ball.

  “Don’t throw it so hard next time, Katie,” Mrs. Hall calls from below.

  I smile. “So sorry.”

  “Iron my dress, you lazy girl.”

  “Katie, dear, don’t smile when you say that.”

  Two hours later, I stand on stage next to Jeremy, my sister in ugliness, and the girl who plays my mother, as we put the finishing touches on the final scene.

  “We’ve skipped it until now, but Trevor, the script says you are to kiss Cinderella.” Mrs. Hall clasps her hands. “You’ve just discovered your soul mate . . . for whatever that’s worth. Claim your princess.”

  Kissing? He can’t kiss her! Ugh. Can’t. Look.

  The cast hoots and whistles as Trevor pulls Chelsea to him, dips her slightly back and plants one on her.

  Shouldn’t there be an awkward moment here? Like that whole moment of my nose will go left, you go right? That kiss went way too smoothly. Like they’d been practicing.

  But that’s just silly.

  Okay, seriously, come up for air. This is Cinderella, rated G. Not the Cinemax version.

  They’re just acting though. What am I worried about? He’s on the verge of dating me, right? I mean he asked me to the spring dance. Not Chelsea. Or Prince Charming’s mother. Or Woman At Ball Number Four.

  . . . At least I think he asked me.

  Mrs. Hall claps her hands. “Yes, that’s good. I think you’ve got it.”

  “Wow,” Jeremy whispers.

  “What? It’s in the script,” I scold.

  Chelsea clings onto Trevor for a more moments as the two share a twittering laugh. I grit my teeth. Yes, your making out was hilarious. Loved it. Encore. Autograph my program.

  Trevor catches up with me after rehearsal. “Hey, Katie, a group of us are going to the movies tonight. Want to go?” Chelsea is all but plastered to his side.

  I paint on my best smile. “I’d love to, really I would.” I lay my hand on his arm for all to see. Take that, Cinderella. “But I’m meeting some friends at the Burger Barn.”

  Chelsea bows up like a wet cat. “Charlie’s meeting Nash at the Burger Barn.”

  “Yeah,” I say, not sure where to tread. “We’re gonna work on our science fair projects. It’s coming up pretty quick.”

  The blonde bombshell holds up her BMW keys and gives them a jangle. “I’ll see you there, then.” She casts a pouty look at her prince. “Sorry, Trev. I guess Charlie forgot to mention this wasn’t a boys night out. I know he’ll be upset if I’m not there with him.”

  Yeah, I can see him sobbing over his triple-decker Burger Barn combo meal already.

  She pats his arm (the one I had just touched), and clicks away in her dainty spiky heeled boots, cell phone pressed to her ear.

  “So . . .” I nod slowly, hoping for divine inspiration and some witty banter. “Nice, um . . . rehearsal.”

  “Yeah,” Trevor grins. “It was a lot of fun today.”

  Oh, I’ll just bet it was.

  “A blast.” Can’t. Hold. Smile. Much. Longer.

  “So how’s that plant doing?” Trevor speaks to me, but his eyes travel the room. He waves to Pamela and Woman At Ball Numbers Five, Six, and Seven.

  “Leafy is doing well. You took good care of him,” I purr, trying to reclaim his attention. “I really owe you.”

  He finally focuses solely on my face. “Yeah . . . I guess you do.” He wraps an arm around me, and we begin to walk out of the theater. “Whatever could you do to repay me for my plant-loving genero
sity?” He pushes open the exit doors, and I follow him out to the parking lot.

  I tug on his letterman jacket to slow him down. “We could get dessert before the dance. My treat.” I hope that didn’t sound suggestive. Oh, my gosh, did that sound suggestive? For the record, I am not the dessert.

  “Yeah, um . . . about . . . Hey! Quincy! David!”

  Suddenly I notice we’re practically surrounded by Trevor’s loyal followers from In Between High. Wonderful. Maybe we can reminisce about old times—like that one time I was publicly humiliated in front of nearly all of In Between at a party.

  “Whatcha guys talking about?” His refrigerator-sized friend Quincy slaps Trevor on the back. Trevor’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

  “The dance,” I say. “We were just discussing the spring dance.” I smile up at Trevor. Who does not smile back. Quincy must’ve hit him too hard.

  “Awwww,” drawls David Higgins. “Is Trevor taking you to the dance?” Though the question is directed at me, David’s attention is on Trevor. Sheesh, is every male in this town born with ADD?

  “Hey,” Quincy yells. “Trevor’s taking Katie to the spring dance.” Laughter erupts through the group.

  Um . . . and this is funny because . . .?

  Trevor frowns. “Don’t worry about them. But, Katie, about the dance, I—”

  Quincy butts in between us. “He’ll pick you up at seven. Isn’t that right, Trev?”

  Trevor stares at the ground. “I—”

  Honnnnk! Honnnnnk!

  “Oh.” I spot Frances in her station wagon. “My ride’s here. I gotta go.” I don’t hide the fact I’m trying to read his expression. “Trevor . . . is everything good here?” With you? Me? Us? Your psychotic friends?

  Trevor nods and briefly draws me to him with one arm. “Sure. See you later.”

  More cat-calls from his oaf posse. With an uncertain look back, I get into Frances’s car.

  “What was that about? There’s more testosterone in that parking lot than at an NFL game.”

  My eyes hold onto Trevor as we drive away. “I don’t know. Boys are so weird.”

  “Closest things to alien life form I know.”

  Then Frances ambushes me with a million questions about our rendezvous with Nash and Charlie.