by Tess Oliver
“I’m so sorry, Eden.”
I pushed to my feet and picked up my backpack. Not wanting her to see my tears, I faced the door as I pulled the straps onto my shoulder. I took one step.
“Hold on, Eden.” Her tone had sharpened from sympathetic to authoritative.
I turned back to face her but she circled around to my back. She walked back in front of me and held up her fingers. “What is this?”
The mystery of the lost joint had been solved.
“Mrs. Vickers,” I blurted, “I don’t smoke pot. That’s not mine.”
She walked back to her chair, sat down, and rubbed her forehead. She was silent for several torturous minutes. “This is very serious, Eden. I’m afraid I’m going to have to report this to Principal Edwards. You can explain things to him.” She rose again from her chair, holding my mom’s joint like she was holding a vial of deadly bacteria. “Follow me.”
“Holy crap,” I muttered as I trudged behind her through the office, past a stream of curious onlookers, and down the hall to the principal’s office.
She pointed to the bench lining the hallway wall. “Sit here.” She went inside and shut the door behind her. Definitely one of those times when I wished that my mom had been more like a real mom.
A few minutes later, Mrs. Vickers poked her head out. “Come inside, Miss Saxon.” Apparently showing up to school with pot on your backpack elevated you to surname status.
Principal Edwards was a tall man with a shiny, bald head and a welcoming smile but that smile did not make an appearance as I stepped into his office. He glanced down at the tiny stub of a joint on his desk and then looked up at me. “I must say I’m puzzled, Eden. You’re an honor student, and you’ve never been in this office for anything but accolades.”
“It’s not mine. It must have dropped on my backpack when I was walking down the hallway.” Tears streamed down my cheeks again. “You have to believe me when I say it’s not mine.”
He tapped his long thick fingers on his desk as he leaned back in his chair. It squeaked beneath the burden of his weight. “I have no reason not to believe you, Eden.” There was a long pause as he stared down at the joint. “I’m not going to report this to the school police.”
The tears flowed faster. “Thank you, Principal Edwards.”
“However—” There were few words in the English language as heart-wrenching as however.
“I’m going to have to revoke your privilege of walking in the graduation ceremony, and you’ll have to skip grad night at Disneyland. Are your finals finished?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll call your parents. Someone can come pick you up.”
I returned to the bench in the hallway, dropped my backpack to the floor, and plopped down hard. Closing my eyes tightly did little to stop the flow of tears. Of course, I’d never had the money to buy a ticket to grad night, but I’d looked forward to the graduation ceremony. Now I just wanted out of this wretched school. Now I just wanted this awful morning to end.
Principal Edwards poked his shiny head out of his office. “Your dad is on his way.”
I wiped the tears from my face, leaned back against the wall, and shut my eyes again. Then the bench moved as someone sat down next to me. Mrs. Vickers was sitting next to me with her thick glasses and a look of contrition on her face.
She held a piece of paper in her hand. “Look, Eden, I’m terribly sorry about all of this.” I guess my earlier assessment of her not really caring one way or the other might have been hasty. “I think I have a job for you this summer if you’re interested. It pays well and includes room and board. I know your family struggles with finances.” Her face blushed as if she was the one who was dirt poor.
“What kind of job is it?” My throat was dry and achy from the shitty morning.
“My cousin is Nicky King.”
It took me a moment to figure out why this piece of information meant anything. “Do you mean Nicky King, the singer of Black Thunder?”
“The very one,” she said with a beaming grin. “Our fathers were brothers.”
“My dad loves that band, but what kind of job is it?”
“Nicky has a nineteen-year-old daughter who needs a companion.” She looked down at her lap for a second. “Finley has some problems with anxiety, and she doesn’t really leave the house.”
“Do you mean she’s agoraphobic?”
“Yes,” she hesitated, “among other things.” Her face brightened. “But she is a wonderful girl. She loves animals, and she has a great sense of humor. Nicky would like her to have a companion— at least for the summer. He’s going on tour with the band, and her brothers are always in and out of town.” She tucked the paper in my hand. “Think about it. This is my cell phone number. Call me if you decide to do it and I’ll make the arrangements.”
I tucked the paper into my jeans. “Thanks, Mrs. Vickers. I’ll think about it. Is it all right if I go clean out my locker? It looks like I’m not coming back to school again.”
Her eyes watered behind her thick lenses. “Of course, Eden. And I truly am sorry.”
I hugged her briefly and plucked up my backpack. The hall was still crowded, but people were starting to shuffle to first period. The glass doors at the end of the hallway swung open and my dad stepped inside. The top half of his long hair was pulled back and tied at behind his head and he was wearing a silver hoop in each ear. It seemed like every face in the crowd turned to look at him. He was definitely different than most dads, and I was glad.
He spotted me and the silent apology on his face made me break into a full run. I ran into his waiting arms and cried.
***
I spent the rest of the day flopped on the couch between my two little sisters watching mind-numbing preschool shows. Sophie had recently learned to braid hair and she’d just finished her tenth braid in my hair when Mom came out of the bedroom. Her eyes and nose were red from crying, and she had a giant wad of tissue clutched in her hand. She picked up Janie and pulled her into her lap as she plopped down next to me.
Her head leaned against my shoulder. “I have to be the worst mother in history,” she sniffled.
“No, you’re not, Mom. Hamster mothers eat their own babies. Besides, it’s no big deal. I’ll still have my diploma.”
“You’re such a good kid.” She grabbed hold of my arm and squeezed. “How did I deserve such a good kid?”
“You raised me, Mom. I think you can give yourself some credit.” I’d been the one to suffer a nightmarish morning but instead of Mom comforting me, I was comforting her. Growing up, it was something I’d found myself doing a lot. And while my college dreams had been temporarily smashed, I’d managed to overcome the disappointment quickly. I’d had a lifetime of practice.
She squeezed my arm harder and sniffled again. Janie twisted around in her lap and pressed her tiny finger against Mom’s red nose.
“Mommy is Rudolph.”
We burst out laughing and a tickle fight ensued. As usual, the Saxon family luck had gone sour. My college dreams had been temporarily washed away by the morning’s tsunami of shitty events, and I was going to miss out on my high school graduation. We had a yellow-stained apartment, bare cupboards, and a family car that was ready for the junkyard, but we had each other and that was all we needed.
Chapter 3
“Are you shitting me? Nicky King. Nicky fucking King,” Dad said for the thousandth time as he paced around our small front room.
Mom and I watched in total amusement as he walked into the bedroom and returned with his small CD player and a Black Thunder CD in his hand.
“Not too loud, Jack. The girls are sleeping.” Mom reached across the table and took hold of my hand. “But you’ll be living with strangers all summer.” While Dad was ready to ship me off tomorrow, Mom had
not yet come to grips with the idea.
“Nicky King is not a stranger.” Dad pushed play and his favorite song fired up. He turned down the volume and joined us at the table. “He’s Nicky King, one of the greatest rock singers of all time.”
“Do you know him personally?” Mom asked.
Dad pressed his hand to his chest dramatically. “Yes, Woman, I do. Right here in my heart and soul.”
“I’m surprised you don’t have his name tattooed on your ass,” I said.
“How do you know I don’t? Have you ever seen my ass?”
“Yes, unfortunately there was the dropped towel incident four years ago that I still haven’t recuperated from.”
“Oh yeah, sorry about that.” He leaned back in the chair and dragged his fingers through his hair. “Nicky King,” he muttered again.
Mom looked at him disgustedly. “You don’t even say my name with that much admiration.”
Dad leaned forward, took hold of her chin, and kissed her. “Rebecca.” He pronounced her name with deliberate slowness.
“Please, Dad, we eat on this table. And I haven’t actually decided to do it yet. I mean, Mom’s right. I’d be in a strange house with people I don’t know.”
“Where exactly do they live?” Mom asked.
“Beverly Hills, of course,” Dad said. “I’ve driven by his estate. It’s outrageous.”
Mom and I looked at him with raised brows.
“What?” he said. “So I’ve driven by a few times. I was just curious.”
I sat forward with wide eyes. “Oh my God, you’ve been stalking Nicky King.”
“Driving by is not stalking.”
“Yes, Jack, it sort of is.”
“I remember the time when he settled down to marry . . . a few times. And I know he had kids.” Dad rubbed the stubble on his chin in thought. “I think there was a tragedy too. One of his kids died really young. Can’t remember the details.” Dad bounced back to the present. “So what do you think, Edie? Are you going to take the job?”
“I guess Beverly Hills isn’t too far. I could take the bus home on the weekends. I think I’ll call Mrs. Vickers tomorrow and find out a few more details.”
Dad slammed his hand on the table enthusiastically. “Good idea.”
***
“Hello, Mrs. Vickers, it’s Eden Saxon.”
Dad pulled up a chair at the table to listen in on the conversation but I waved him away.
“Eden, I’m so glad you called. I was hoping you would.” Silent pause. “How are you feeling?” she asked sympathetically as if I’d left the school in an ambulance rather than on suspension.
“I’m fine. I was wondering about that job working for your cousin.”
“Yes, of course. I think it would be a great situation for both you and my niece. A month ago, my cousin, Nicky, asked if I knew of a girl who might be a fitting summer companion for his daughter, Finley. I drew up a list of names, and I must say, you were on the top of that list. The job pays three thousand a month plus all expenses for room and board.”
“Three thousand a month?” The words nearly stuck in my throat. Mom and Dad both pulled up chairs to listen.
“I figured that would be a nice start for a college fund. I feel I really let you down, Eden, by building up your hopes for scholarships. I truly believe you deserved them.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Vickers. Well, I’ve given it some thought and I think I would like to take the job. If Finley likes me, that is.”
“Of course, she will, but there will be a one week trial, which you’ll be paid for, and then if things work out you can stay the summer. I’ll call my cousin today. He’s leaving to London tonight, but he’ll be glad I’ve found someone. I’ll call Finley and let her know you’ll be there— Saturday?”
“Saturday is fine, but I’m not sure how I’ll get there.”
“I’ll drive you,” Dad said quickly.
I covered the mouth piece. “Nicky won’t be there.”
“What’s that?” Mrs. Vickers asked.
“Oh, nothing. Just let me know the address and time and I’ll be there.”
“Great. I’d drive you myself,” Mrs. Vickers said, “but my kids have soccer. I could have them send a car around to pick you up.”
“No, don’t send them here,” I blurted louder than necessary. “I’ll get a ride from my dad.”
“Terrific. And Eden—” She paused. “I’m glad I was able to help. I’ve been feeling really badly about the whole incident, but I simply had no choice but to tell the principal.”
“I know, and thanks for considering me for this job.”
***
Our family had exactly one duffle bag, and the zipper was broken so I had to fasten it together with ducky safety pins leftover from Janie’s diaper days. But what was worse than the broken duffle was the stark realization that I had very little to put in it. I had my three pairs of favorite jeans, each more faded and tattered than the next. I had two pairs of shorts and some t-shirts and tank tops, purchased mostly at yard sales. Mom had splurged on a new pair of pajamas, and I tucked those in last because they were the newest and nicest thing in the bag.
Janie and Sophie watched with round eyes as I finished packing. “Will you be back tonight, Edie?” Sophie asked looking extra cute and pouty.
“Only if things don’t work out.”
Her eyes teared up, and I reached over and threw my arms around both of them. “But I’ll take the bus home on weekends and I’ll bring you toys when I come.”
“I want a doll,” Janie mumbled around the thumb in her mouth.
“A doll it is. And what do you want, Sophie?”
She spun around on her bottom and crossed her arm. “I don’t want any toy. I just want you to stay.”
“Ahh, Sophie Bear, you’ll have Mommy and Daddy and Janie to keep you company. And you have my permission to pull out my bed and jump on it whenever you want.”
Mom leaned against the door frame. “Thanks. Now she’ll be doing that all day.” Her face softened, and she bit her lip which meant she was about to cry. No one wore sadness more beautifully, or more obviously, than my mom.
I walked over and hugged her. “Mom, are you and Dad going to be all right without me?” I sounded like the parent leaving her kids, which, in a funny way, was sort of true.
“We’ll be fine. Bored and lonely, but fine.” She took hold of my arms and looked at me. “You have fun but if anything seems strange or you get even a tiny notion that this isn’t for you, you call right away, and I’ll fire up the rust boat and come get you.” She wiped hastily at a tear that had escaped. “Speaking of the rust boat, your dad is waiting for you outside.”
Sophie and Janie each clamped onto one of my legs, and I walked stiff-legged to the door. Mom pried them off, kissed me on the cheek, and handed me the duffle. “Remember to call.”
Dad honked from the parking lot.
Mom rolled her eyes. “He’s like a kid waiting to see Santa.”
“I’ve told him that Nicky King is not going to be home. And he promised that he would just drop me off.”
“He knows all that. He’s just excited for you.”
“Bye, Mom. Love you.” I kissed my sisters and headed to the van.
I tossed my duffle into the back seat and climbed in to the front. “Is that a new noise? I’ve never heard it before.”
“Nah, she’s just cold.” Dad patted the dashboard that was split open in four places and hardly resembled a dash anymore. “She’ll be fine.” He looked at me. “Are you ready?”
“As ever.”
Early June in California meant a morning of fog that would eventually dissolve into hazy sunshine. The mist was just beginning to lift, and the blue sky was breaking through. Even tho
ugh it was Saturday, the freeway was packed tightly like a can of car sardines.
“Ahh, L.A., the traffic capital of the world,” Dad sighed. The van chugged along the freeway as if we were dragging a load of bricks behind us. The CD player hadn’t worked when we’d first bought the van from the weasley-faced car salesman, but Dad had managed to get it working with the help of a paper clip. Naturally, we listened to Black Thunder. They were a bit too heavy metal and rock and roll for me but then Black Thunder was before my time.
As usual, Dad drummed his fingers on the steering wheel keeping beat with the song. Occasionally, he used his knee to steer so that he could use both hands on his imaginary drum set. After a few minutes of his drum solo, he reached forward and turned down the volume. “You know, Edie, if you get any bad feeling about this once you get there—”
“I know, Dad. Mom already gave me the call right away talk.”
“Good. Just remember.”
“Dad, I plan to send the money home for you—”
“Oh no you don’t, kiddo. That is your money. You can deposit it right into that savings account Grandma left you.” As desperate as my parents always were for money, they’d never touched the two hundred dollars my grandmother had left me before she died.
“I want you to use it for Sophie and Janie. You can’t say no when it’s for them.”
“Janie and Sophie will be fine. Save it for college. Besides, I’ve got a few good prospects coming my way.” My dad always had a few good prospects but a dismal few good offers.
He grew silent. The only sound was the occasional cough from the engine and Nicky King belting out the words to his hit song, Angel Tears.
“You know, Edie, I haven’t been the world’s best dad.”