by Sandra Byrd
Penny reached over and gave me a one-armed hug. “I wish you were coming too.”
“Bosh, they probably wouldn’t want me to come,” I said under my breath.
“It’d be okay, really. I think they like you more than they let on.”
I zoned out of their conversation and pretended to jot down some important things in my journalism notebook. Actually, I was writing down all the names of boys I’d been at least somewhat interested in, crossing out the ones who turned out to like someone else.
Well, therse still was Rob. And Rhys. I’d see Rob at the newspaper office. And I’d be finishing Rhys’s paper with him at Fishcoteque after school tomorrow.
After lunch was fourth period. I hadn’t earned my way into Mrs. Beasley’s good graces since last week’s detention yet. I think I’d been kind of one of her favorites, and now she was disappointed in me for getting two detentions. Fair enough. I was disappointed in myself.
Chapter 15
“So what’ll it be then, luv? The usual?” Jeannie, the server at the local fish-and-chips place, grinned at me from behind the counter. I loved her, and her fish-and-chips, and she knew it and loved me right back.
“The usual,” I said. The thought crossed my mind that Rhys might make fun of me for eating a full meal after school, and then I wondered why I even cared if he made fun of me or not. I took my laptop and sat down at my booth, waiting for both of them—Rhys and my order—to arrive.
I worked a little on a paper and did some fact-checking for Natalie; then I pulled up my e-mail. As I typed in my password, I heard Rhys come up behind me. I quickly closed my e-mail.
“I’m not late today—did you notice?” he asked as he slid into the opposite side of the booth.
“I noticed,” I said with a smile.
Jeannie brought over my fish-and-chips and asked Rhys if he’d like some.
“No thanks,” he said. Jeannie sniffed and muttered something about paying her rent with people who lingered but didn’t eat. She seemed to have cooled just a tiny bit toward me, and I wondered if it had anything to do with Rhys. He pulled out his paper and handed it to me.
I was impressed. “You’ve made a lot of good changes.” I gave him a few more pointers and then handed the paper back.
“You’re a good teacher.” He sounded genuine. “I worked on it on Sunday, probably while you smart kids were off having fun.”
I splashed one of my chips with malt vinegar. “I was at church on Sunday,” I said.
“Ahhh . . . well, then. An American and a Christian. By all rights I should hate you. But I don’t.”
I’d heard of a backhanded compliment before but didn’t exactly understand what that meant. Now I did. Did he mean to praise or insult me? I decided to think the best. “Thank you,” I said.
“You might just change my mind about both,” he said. Two girls came into the shop then and waved flirtatiously at Rhys. He lifted a hand politely but didn’t flirt back. Instead he turned to me.
I took a bite of fish and considered his last comment. “My church is having a kind of . . . talent show,” I said. Something told me not to mention the real name of it: April Fools for Christ. I had the nagging feeling it would provoke a comment that I wouldn’t like.
“Oh.”
“Maybe you could come,” I said. And hear the gospel, I thought. I had to admit the tiniest part of me was also hoping he’d come and publicly support me with all those nice things he said about my being smart and pretty and helpful. It would boost my confidence. I wasn’t sure why he had the power to swing my feelings so much, both up and down.
“Maybe, Savannah. Maybe. I might just do that.” We chatted for a while, and then he spied some of his mates heading to the back of the restaurant, where the dartboard was. “I’d best join the lads,” he said. “I promised.”
“I’ve got to get home too,” I said. As I closed up my computer, he leaned close to me. Very close.
“See you soon, Savannah.” I could feel him drawing me in somehow. Like a magnet. Then he smiled, his teeth perfectly white and even, and his clear blue eyes looking unblinkingly at me. This time they didn’t really seem sled doggish. More like a tiny bit wolfish. But maybe a pet wolf.
On the way home I had a weird song stuck in my head. It was one of Dad’s favorites, one we teased him about whenever he put on his golden oldies rotation on his iPod.
Chapter 16
The next night I got to church early to discuss plans for the April Fools for Christ night. I took my guitar, my leather WA Times notebook, and my Bible.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I said to Supriya. “It’ll be really fun to do this together.”
Joe wrote up a roster of performers. Even though I’d been planning to say no, I was actually really happy I’d agreed to do this. It was my church. I wanted to get to know people. And I cared about giving to others.
About half an hour later, everyone else started filtering in. I got myself a mocha and wandered around meeting people with Supriya. I also looked around a little. Kind of casually, you know. Chill. As the worship team went up to the front, Supriya leaned over and whispered, “He’s not normally here on Wednesdays.”
Startled, I answered, “Who?”
“Tommy.”
“Who said I was looking for Tommy?”
She just smiled, the music started, and we began to sing. I closed my eyes.
Was I that obvious? Anyway, Savvy, put it all behind you. He likes Chloe. Focus.
I went home that night and put away all my romance novels. I left the textbooks out where I could see them. And the latest edition of the WA Times.
In the middle of the night, I got up again and took one of the romance books back out of the box. It was a Christian romance. A girl had to have hope.
Chapter 17
The next morning I arrived at the Wexburg Academy Times office a little early again. I was glad today was a uniform day because only my black uniform shoes got wet. I’d just bought some new UGGs, creamy beige suede on the outside and soft wool on the inside. I was excited to wear them on casual Friday, and I really hoped it wouldn’t rain tomorrow.
I walked into the newsroom and breathed in the dusty smell of the newsprint and the acrid smell of the ink, felt the heat of the presses and the glare of the fluorescent lights. My future was calling! And I would answer!
Rob came out from behind his printer. “Need any help loading the papers?” he asked.
“Yeah, thanks—in just a minute.” First I had to talk with Jack. I found him standing next to a board with the current issue laid out and pinned up. I leaned in and whispered, “I think there’s been some kind of e-mail error. I haven’t been getting the forwards.”
“Forwards?” he asked in a rather loud voice. He looked distracted. I spotted the reason right away. The current issue had a few typos. He frowned, took out a highlighter, and marked them. I was glad my name was not on any of those bylines.
“For the Asking for Trouble column,” I said, trying to keep my voice down. “If I’m going to have time to choose the questions and then write up my answers, I’ll need to have them soon. You want the copy by next Tuesday, right?”
“Ah, yes, right,” Jack said. “Sorry about that. I’ll check on it later this morning.”
I turned around, and as I did, I saw Rob standing very close behind me. He met my eyes. They betrayed nothing, but I wondered if he’d been there awhile and heard our conversation.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yep.” Together we stuffed my green-swirled designer bag with papers. “Going to the May Day Ball?” he asked.
I looked up, hopeful. He wasn’t really my idea of Prince Charming, but he was a nice guy, and he’d been a good friend to me since I’d joined the newspaper staff. Truth be told, I suspected he was the person who had delivered my anonymous box of chocolates at Valentine’s Day. After all, he often did have chocolate in his printing office. And he’d been awfully sweet to me.
“No,
I’m not . . . yet,” I said. “You?”
He nodded. “I have a girlfriend at another school. She’s coming here for the dance. I’ll go to her school’s Autumn Leaves Ball.”
I kept a bright smile on my face—I really did. Happy thoughts. “That’s great,” I said. “Natalie has assigned me to choose some couples to feature in the paper. Maybe I could get your picture?”
“Thanks, Savvy.” Rob grinned. “Dahlia would love that. It might make her even appreciate the newspaper life a bit more.” He gave me a quick, friendly hug and helped me finish loading the papers.
I dutifully delivered the papers. That’s right, that’s me. Always the fairy godmother, never Cinderella.
In first period, Brian’s and Hazelle’s moony eyes were annoying me, so I pulled out my list instead. Only one name was left.
Chapter 18
Louanne attacked me as soon as I got in the front door. “Isn’t today the day your paper comes out? Did you bring a copy home for me?” She tugged one of the straps of my green bag, trying to part the folds and peer inside.
“Hold on, cowgirl,” I said. “I’ve got one in here someplace. But let me catch my breath.” Even Growl was eyeing her with curiosity. “So what’s the big deal with the paper?”
“I told you,” she said not very convincingly. “We’re sisters. I’m interested in your stuff, just like you’re interested in my stuff, like dog shows.”
I wasn’t sure how she came by that misunderstanding about my liking dog shows, but I let her hang on to it. I threw my messenger bag in the corner, careful not to hit my new UGGs, waiting patiently for their debut the next morning. “So when can I paint your nails?” I asked.
She took both hands and put them around her throat, pretending to choke herself. “Never. But it was nice of you to offer to come to the dog show with me this weekend. Thanks, Savvy.”
“Anything for you, kid.” I handed her the WA Times.
She took the paper and ran upstairs, Growl galloping after her, his low-slung belly shaving the carpet.
“You’re going to have to lay off the treats if you’re going to do dog shows,” I called after him. As if he cared.
I headed into the kitchen and pulled out the box of Weetabix. I hadn’t even put milk in the bowl yet when Louanne slunk back downstairs. “What’s with you? You look like someone pushed you off the bus four stops early.”
“Nothing,” she said.
“Want to play a game?” I hated to see her so down. Usually a rousing game of Monopoly or Scrabble would cheer her up.
“No thanks,” she said.
“Want to talk about animals?” I asked. “You know, a lot of my friends have two pets—Penny, Hazelle, and Ashley each have two dogs. Maybe you should ask Mom and Dad for a friend for Giggle.”
At that, she practically stumbled over the sofa in an effort to get away from me. “Gotta go do my homework. Bye.” She bolted from the room again, Giggle wheezing after her.
I headed upstairs and plopped my homework on my dresser. I stared at Voilà! C’est la France! and decided I’d better catch up on my French homework later that night. I looked at the pile in the corner—a tossed salad of clothes that I didn’t like anymore, that were not very flattering, that were the wrong color, that I didn’t want to fold and hoped my mother would rewash and fold for me. Then I looked at my guitar.
Only thirteen days till the April Fools show, I thought. I wondered if Rhys would ask about it again. He might be a little interested in Christianity. Maybe. And this could be the event that helped him see that Christians were normal and fun. I’d better pick my song soon and e-mail it to Joe for his approval.
For some reason, though, I just couldn’t get up the desire to play the guitar right then. I watched BBC on the telly, and then it was dinnertime. Here’s how the conversation went:
Dad: “This tomato soup is very good, dear—especially on a rainy night. Are you starting to think about planting your garden?”
Mom: “I’d love to get my hands on the patch out back—I just don’t know, though. The property is Aunt Maude’s, not mine, and we’d have to dig out so many weeds.”
Me: “We can help you weed it, Mom. I’m sure Aunt Maude would be glad to have it all cleared out and prettied up.”
Louanne: “I feel sick! Please excuse me!” And she ran from the table, leaving her napkin to flutter to the floor.
Dad looked at Mom and then at me. “What was that all about?”
“I don’t know,” Mom said. “She’s been acting strange lately. I’ve asked her if everything is okay at school, and she says yes. But she seems to be teary a lot. Savvy, do you know what’s up?”
I chewed and swallowed the last rubbery nub of tangy English Cheshire cheese from the bottom of my soup bowl before answering. “Nope. I noticed it too. I’ll see if I can find out.”
Chapter 19
Late that night, after Louanne was snoozing, Growl curled in a nest of blankets at the foot of her bed. The tinny sounds of late-night telly came from behind my parents’ bedroom door, and I sat cross-legged on the floor of my own room. My shiny rosewood guitar—the one big item I was allowed to bring to London from Seattle—sat next to me, quietly, comfortably, like the old, faithful friend it was. I looked through my sheet music. Usually a particular song would call to me from the dotted black staccato of notes bursting on a page. I could hear the music in my head as I read it, begging to be let out. But not now.
I stood and looked out my window. It still got cold at night, and condensation beaded up in the corners of my old-fashioned glass panes. When enough droplets gathered together, they joined strength and coursed down the glass like a teardrop. I watched them for a minute, then looked out on the neighborhood below.
Lord, I want to play a song that will honor You. One that I really like and can play with feeling. Please help me pick a good one.
My thoughts went from the April Fools show to the May Day Ball, which honestly was never far from my mind.
It’s okay if I don’t go, I said to myself.
But I really want to, and that’s okay too, I said back.
But who could I go with? I replied.
I felt like such a hypocrite for giving such a breezy, know-it-all answer to the girl who’d written in the paper. I watched as the lights shut off in each of the neighborhood houses till only one house was still lit. Only one choice left, as far as I can see.
I sat on the floor and searched through the Taylor Swift music again. There was no escaping the fact that certain titles caught my eye more than others. “Love Story.” “Baby, Don’t Break My Heart.” “Sparks Fly.”
One song called to me, and as I picked up the music, I knew two things for sure:
1. The Lord had answered my prayer and showed me the song to play. Thank You, Lord.
2. The song had a double entendre, one of the words in my French homework that night. It meant “a word or expression used in a given context so that it can be understood in two ways.”
Chapter 20
Friday, glorious Friday, when I could wear whatever I wanted to school, when an entire weekend stretched ahead, with sleeping in on Saturday, followed by waffles and scrambled eggs whipped up by my dad. I had homework, of course. And I needed to practice my song for April Fools. Plus, I’d promised Natalie I’d do a bit more research for her. But it was still Friday!
“Love the boots, Savvy,” Ashley said as I sat down at the lunch table. The entire table went quiet. Had Ashley just complimented me? I felt her crown of approval on my head. Others must have noticed because I felt a distinct thaw in the attitude toward me at the table. Penny beamed like a proud mum. I felt pretty glad too. I had been myself, had remained true to myself, and that was good enough to be noticed.
“Thank you, Ashley. I love your new bag. Yellow patent leather is very in.” I returned her compliment in kind. It was true—she did have a great bag. Then Penny and I got down to business: nibbling the protein bars she’d brought and the bag of veggies I
’d brought. I looked at the clock.
Four more hours till I can get to the chippie for my real meal!
“Hey, what are you doing after school?” I asked Penny. “Want to shop in the village with me? I was thinking of checking out Be@titude and then heading to Fishcoteque.”
“Brilliant, Savvy, but tonight’s the night a bunch of us—” she nodded in the direction of the other Aristocats—“are taking the bus and the Tube to London to shop for dresses. I’m sorry.”
“Is Chloe going with you?” I asked, trying to seem as if I didn’t really care. Casual. Chill. You know.
“Yes . . . why?”
I shook my head. “No reason; just wondering.”
I could see her little-white-lie detector go off, but she was loyal enough not to ask me anything in front of the rest of the group. Instead, she squeezed my hand and then wrote Monday! on my hand in Sharpie. “We’re still getting together at my house on Monday, right? And my mum would like you to stay for supper.”
“Okay. Have a good time,” I said, meaning it. I hadn’t told her this, but I was definitely, absolutely going to feature her and Oliver as one of the couples in the paper.
After school I dropped off most of my gear at home and headed to the village square with only my purse and my WA Times notebook. The daffodils labored to push their heads through the ground, and some of them had successfully burst through in a ground-level shot of sunshine.
I arrived at a tidy brick shop with wide, clean windows and the word Be@titude scrawled across the top. The clothes in the window ranged from chic and fresh to fairly modern—nothing stodgy here. I opened the shop door, and the chimes twinkled merrily as I stepped in.