by Niki Lenz
It turned out that Teddy Roosevelt had sent his baby daughter to live with an aunt after his first wife died. He was so heartbroken he couldn’t even bear to look at little Alice. And it was only after he’d been married again, to Edith, that she insisted Alice come home. Edith had given Alice her father back instead of taking him away. And by loving him, she’d helped to heal his heart and make him a better father to Alice. She had stitched the broken family back together again, even if it looked a bit different and was frayed around the edges.
That’s what I wanted to tell Miss O’Connor, plus so much more, but my finger froze over the Call button.
Dad stuck his head in the kitchen. “You done yet? We want to get this movie going.”
I dropped Dad’s phone and stuck my guilty hands back in the bubbles. “A few more dishes here. I’ll be done in a second.”
“Okay,” Dad said, and returned to his guest.
I dried the last dish and put it in the cabinet, and then used a wet cloth to wipe down the table. When there wasn’t anything else I could reasonably clean in the kitchen, I trudged into the living room.
And stopped dead in my tracks.
And wished my eyeballs could fall out of my eyes.
Gretchen was kissing my dad.
On the mouth.
“It looks like you guys need to be alone!” I snarled, and spun on my heels through the kitchen and out the back door.
My head spun and I was far from thinking clearly.
My dad.
Was kissing.
Her.
The woman who laughs at none of his jokes and wants to send me away for the entire summer.
Kissing. In my living room. Where I live.
I ran, my feet pounding the sidewalk, my heart beating in my ears. The same words repeated in my head over and over. Team Gravy. Team Gravy. Team Gravy.
My arms worked double-time, and tears streaked my face. A car horn blared as I crossed an intersection without so much as a glance across the street.
I wanted my dad to be happy. I wanted him to go on dates and meet the right person so he wouldn’t be lonely anymore.
But Gretchen? She isn’t the right fit. She isn’t the right piece.
When my feet finally stopped running, I stood outside the First Baptist Church. My second home, until a few busybodies had started putting ideas in my dad’s head. I bent and picked a marble-sized rock out of the landscaping and flung it at the double doors of the church.
Dad kissing Gretchen.
Chunk.
Kissing her!
Chunk.
She makes him drink soy lattes!
Chunk.
And watch boring movies.
Chunk.
She doesn’t get us.
Chunk.
Again and again I threw rocks until my arms hurt, but the door didn’t even have the tiniest scratch on it. I bent down in search of a larger rock and saw my salvation out of the corner of my eye.
The church van.
It was parked in the covered drop-off area.
Shiny and white and completely forbidden for anyone to borrow unless they had express written permission from a whole slew of committees.
Including the Building and Grounds Committee.
Don’t mind if I do.
I marched over and pressed my nose to the driver’s-side window.
The keys swung from the ignition.
My heart hammered in my ears, and I felt my fingertips go tingly as I gripped the door handle. I’m only twelve! I know how to drive in theory….All my skills came from the video games at the pizza parlor. I’d be in so much trouble from the church. From my dad. And somehow the thought thrilled me.
I remembered that disgusting kiss again, and before I knew it, I’d opened the door and climbed into the driver’s seat. I quickly buckled my seat belt, because I could hear Bea’s voice in my head, telling me that if I was going to be reckless, I should at least be safety-conscious. And like a slam in the guts, I remembered that Bea wasn’t actually speaking to me at the moment. One twist of the keys and the engine purred.
As I popped the gearshift into drive, the bald-headed van driver came out the church doors. His eyes widened when he saw me, but I gunned it before he had a chance to grab the passenger door. I flew out of the parking lot, my knuckles white on the steering wheel and my feet barely reaching the pedals.
At first it was exhilarating. I’m driving! Like a grown-up! On the roads and everything! It wasn’t as hard as I thought. You stopped at stop signs. You steered in a mostly straight line. You tried to avoid other cars and people and dogs and bicycles and stuff. Easy-peasy. Somehow that didn’t make me feel any more relaxed, though.
What in the world was I doing? Where would I go? Had I actually stolen the church van? I started to laugh, not because any of it was funny, but because I had so much pent-up energy, excitement, anger, I wasn’t sure what, and it just spilled out in manic giggles.
“I am so dead.” I laughed as I turned down a gravel road headed out of town. Better to be off the main square, away from as many people as possible. A green highway sign loomed ahead, and I slammed on my brakes with a little too much force to read it.
Springfield 30 Miles
Branson 74 Miles
St. Louis 236 Miles
My mind flashed to the billiken statue that looked like President Taft. One of our unpinned destinations on the presidential bucket list that would probably never get done now that Dad was with Gretchen the history hater. My foot hit the gas and I sped up, bouncing over a bump that made my teeth clank together.
I had a plan. I was going to St. Louis to rub a billiken belly. In a stolen van. That I didn’t technically know how to drive. What could go wrong?
I found out ten short minutes later.
A deer jumped out from a clump of trees lining the road. I didn’t even have time to hit the brakes. I screamed, my hands flew to cover my face, and the crash and thud told me the van would be coming to a complete and total stop. When I stopped shaking enough to pull the door handle, I tumbled out, my legs almost buckling beneath me.
What have I done?
I am so, so dead.
And so is this deer, apparently.
I started to cry, kneeling there in the gravel next to the bloody deer.
I needed help and for the first time in the last three years, the person I wanted was not my dad. Who? Who could I call, when I’d done something so, so bad? Who would know what to say, what to do?
Only one name came to mind.
I stumbled back to the car and opened the glove box. The church’s old fat cell phone lay on top of the van’s registration, just where I knew it would be. I typed in her number but started to sob before she picked up.
“Hello?”
“Miss O’Connor?”
“Grace, honey, is that you?”
I just cried harder, snot running down my face.
“Where are you? Your dad called me scared as anything. The whole town is out looking for you. I’ve been driving all over the place….”
“I…had an accident.” I hoped if I focused on my near escape from physical harm, I might get in less trouble.
“What kind of accident? Where are you? Are you hurt?”
I told her the road I was on, and the last thing I remembered passing. I didn’t mention I’d stolen a van or driven illegally before killing an innocent deer. There’d be plenty of time for that later.
“I’m on my way. Don’t move one single muscle until I get there, do you hear me?” She sounded so worried about me. Even though I knew I would get the worst punishment of my entire life, it somehow made me feel a smidge better to know that someone as nice as Miss O’Connor cared about me. And my dad, she’d seemed worried about him, too.
; And it was while I was sitting there, in the middle of the empty gravel road, that my feelings about Miss O’Connor were confirmed. I loved her.
Miss O’Connor, my history teacher.
Miss O’Connor, who wore weird clothes kinda like me.
Miss O’Connor, who watched documentaries and laughed at all my dad’s jokes, even the sermon ones, which weren’t remotely funny.
My ears filled with the sound of whooshing, and my head felt light.
I love Miss O’Connor.
And then I remembered how pink my dad’s cheeks got when he talked about their night at the bonfire.
Sharing his books with her.
Smiling and rolling his eyes at her wacky outfits.
Maybe he loves her, too.
We needed her to stitch us back together, like Edith stitched up Teddy and Alice. I let out a breath as her little blue VW Bug came into view and wondered how I could untangle this giant mess I’d made.
Miss O’Connor jumped out of her car and ran to kneel beside me on the road. “Grace, are you hurt? What happened?” she asked, pushing my hair back from my face. I stared at her like I was maybe seeing her for the first time. She was here. She had come. I had needed her and she had rescued me. Her voice seemed almost frantic as she helped me stand and led me to her car. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this was? Not to mention completely illegal. What if you’d been stopped by the police?”
My head nodded so fast I started to feel nauseous. Or maybe my body was coming down from the thrill of driving. And I wasn’t sure if my headache was from Miss O’Connor’s lecture, or the cracking impact of the van with the deer, which was still snuggling the asphalt.
“You could’ve been arrested! You still might if the church decides to press charges.”
Arrested? I didn’t even think about that. I’d only been focused on making the Building and Grounds Committee mad and making my dad pay for what he’d done. My hands and then my knees began to shake. Miss O’Connor paused her lecture to pop the trunk of her blue Bug. She pulled out a soft plaid blanket and wrapped it around my shoulders.
“Come sit in my car,” she said, her voice a few degrees warmer.
Once we were sitting in the bucket seats, she twisted to face me. “Can you please just tell me what happened? What made you think grand theft auto was a good idea?”
I let out a slow breath. “My dad…We had Gretchen over for dinner.”
Miss O’Connor’s face hid any kind of reaction. “Go on” was all she said.
“So, she told me to clean up the kitchen and wash the dishes and then I walked into the living room….”
It began to rain. Fat drops plopped down the curved windshield of the Bug. I wondered if the deer would be cold, but then I remembered it was dead, so it wouldn’t.
“Grace?”
“They kissed! It was terrible and disgusting and I wanted to scoop my own eyeballs out with a spoon! And I don’t want it to be her. I want it to be you.”
“Wait, what? Slow down. This is a lot of information.”
So I took a deep breath and I told her everything again, but more slowly. I paused after the kissing part to really let it sink in. Miss O’Connor looked seasick, which is exactly how I felt about the whole thing.
“I was so mad, at Dad and at the bossy ladies at church and at Gretchen….I saw the van sitting there, and it seemed like the perfect way to get back at everyone.”
Miss O’Connor nodded. “Except you don’t know how to drive.”
“Except that. And except this deer doesn’t know how to look both ways before crossing the street.”
We both smiled sadly.
Miss O’Connor reached over and rubbed my blanket-covered shoulder. “Oh, Grace, you were so lucky! You could’ve been killed, do you know that?”
I shrugged, and Miss O’Connor took a deep breath, watching the rain come down.
“I called your dad. He’s on his way.”
I felt my heart drop to my feet. So this is it. The End. I’m probably going to be sent off to boarding school or something and Dad will marry that horrible woman, and my life will be over. And Team Gravy will definitely be over.
“What you said…about wanting it to be me…I know you think that’s how your dad feels—”
“It is. He likes you. You’re the only person who…fits with us. Who gets us. Who’s there for us. He knows that. But he thinks you don’t feel the same way about him.”
“And I thought he didn’t feel that way about me,” she said softly.
“That’s why I’ve tried to push you two together. You both need to tell each other how you feel, so we can be a family.”
Miss O’Connor laughed and shook her head. “It’s not always so simple, Grace.”
“Grown-ups make things too complicated sometimes.”
She didn’t respond because just then something banged on the passenger-side window. My dad dripped in the rain, his face as furious as I’d ever seen it. It was time to look my dad in the eye and swallow the punishment for all the stuff I’d done. I gave Miss O’Connor’s hand one more squeeze before stepping out of the car into the rain.
Dad was silent the entire way home, but his hands shook on the truck’s steering wheel. A few times he opened his mouth to say something but then snapped it shut again.
When we got to our house, I trudged up to my room and lay on my bed. The space smelled like new paint and fresh carpet. Dad had helped me hang goofy posters on the walls and I’d spent hours arranging all my new bookshelves. The whole room was just a huge reminder of all the possibilities between Dad and me that were done now.
“Knock knock,” Dad said, sticking his head up through the floor opening. “Can I come in?”
I sighed. I couldn’t avoid this talk forever. “Yes.” I made room for him on the bed without risking eye contact. He plopped down but didn’t say anything, and as the seconds ticked by, my need to confess grew.
“Since I’m already in the most trouble I will ever be in in my whole entire life, I feel like I need to tell you something.”
“There’s more?” Dad asked, turning to face me. “How is that possible?”
I let out a long breath and stared at the ceiling. “Well…when Miss Donna and Miss Marge first suggested you start dating, I thought you were just going along with it to make them happy. I didn’t realize that you were…that you were lonely. So I was angry. And I sabotaged a few of your dates.”
I turned to look at him. My dad’s features flicked through just about every known emotion and landed on confused.
“You messed up my dates?”
I nodded and took a deep breath. “I may have also tampered with your Lid for Every Pot account. Clarissa Washington was me. And I stole your wallet and there was the incident with the chicken and the fart picnic….” I said the whole thing in one long gasp and then closed my eyes and braced for the worst.
Dad’s voice was high-pitched and a little panicky. “Clarissa was you….Also, I knew you masterminded the fart picnic!”
I snuck a peek at him. He seemed like he was swallowing a lot more than a normal person. Finally, he spoke.
“Why would you do that?”
Stinging tears filled my eyes again. “Because I thought that if you started dating and eventually got married you and I wouldn’t spend any time together anymore. That we wouldn’t be Team Gravy anymore.”
Dad’s face softened, and he leaned over and wiped a tear off my cheek. “Oh, Grace. That could never happen. Even if I did fall in love and get married, you would always be my number one girl. You and me…this isn’t going anywhere. No matter what.”
“But you told me to stay out of your love life. And right now, that’s your whole entire life!”
“I was angry when I said that. I meant you should stop locking people in basements
. I never meant you should stay out of my life completely. You are my life, Grace.”
“I love you, Dad,” I said in a squeaky voice.
“Oh, honey, I love you, too. So so much. I…ended things with Gretchen. When I went to chase after you, she told me to let you go.”
I gulped. “So it was my fault you guys broke up.” Even though that’s what I’d wanted, it felt worse than I’d imagined. I didn’t want my dad to be sad. I wanted the opposite of that. I felt guilt squirm in my guts like soggy spaghetti.
“Giblet, look at me.” He cupped my chin so I looked into his face. “It was not your fault that things went wrong between me and Gretchen. You were right about her from the beginning. She wasn’t the best fit for us.”
I pictured that darn White House puzzle with one piece missing.
Dad flopped back on my bed with his arms behind his head, and I did the same thing. We stared at my freshly painted ceiling for a quiet moment, each of us lost in our own thoughts.
“You said you were sabotaging my dates. What made you stop?” he asked after a while.
I remembered that single tear running down Dad’s cheek on lasagna disaster night. “I wanted you to find the right person.”
“And you think the right person is Olivia,” he concluded.
“I think you know,” I said softly. “If this team ever took on a third person, I would want it to be her. It’s gotta be her.”
“When you were gone…when we couldn’t find you anywhere…” Dad’s Adam’s apple bobbed and his eyes flicked all over my room. “Olivia was the first person I thought of to call.”
“That’s because she is the ONE, Dad!” I said, reaching over to squeeze his hand.
“Well…maybe it’s time I got brave, then. I can take a risk. I would do just about anything for you, Grace.”
“Don’t just do it for me, Dad. Be brave because it’s what you want and who you are.”
He nodded. “I might need your help, though.” He chuckled. “Getting Olivia to fall for me could be our next Team Gravy project. That is, if you still want to be on a team with me?”