Samantha Sanderson on the Scene

by Robin Caroll

  Aubrey sure was changing her tune. Not so long ago, Aubrey would have reserved the right to make the decision of who would respond to comments and what they would say. Apparently, this wasn’t cool enough, so she’d pass it off to Sam.

  “That’s fine. We do have a plan of action, so to speak.”

  “What?” Ms. Pape asked as she came up behind Sam.

  “One of our corporate sponsors is paying for an anti-bullying speaker to come give a presentation at the school next week, with a follow-up presentation for parents, teachers, and other adults in the community that night. Kids whose parents attend will get a free ticket to next Friday night’s football game.” Sam was pretty excited about what she, Mrs. Trees, and Mrs. Creegle had come up with.

  “That’s pretty awesome,” Ms. Pape said.

  “Who’s the speaker?” Kathy Gibbs asked. “Someone famous?”

  “A famous anti-bullying speaker?” Aubrey sneered. “Get real.”

  “Actually, the speaker is a best-selling author of books on bullying,” Sam replied.

  “Like any of us have needed to read those types of books.” Aubrey grabbed her clipboard.

  “You know, Aubrey,” Sam moved to face her. “It’s attitudes just like yours that make bullying the humiliation that it is. Awareness and understanding are the first steps in ending bullying.”

  “You think you know it all, Samantha?” Aubrey started.

  “Girls,” Ms. Pape interrupted.

  Sam decided she’d take the higher road and just ignore Aubrey Damas completely. “Mrs. Creegle and I are also starting an anti-bullying campaign around campus. Posters, flyers . . . everything we can think of to promote a no-tolerance policy to bullying and to promote the presentation next week.”

  “Very cool. Count me in to help,” Lana said.

  Celeste nodded. “Me, too.”

  “Well, that will give all you seventh graders something to do.” Aubrey’s smirk was as infuriating as her I’m better than you are attitude.

  “I want to help, too,” Tam said. “I can talk to Mrs. Shine to see if we can incorporate this into an EAST project.”

  “I’m in Tam’s EAST class, too,” Lana said. “Mrs. Shine is always pushing us to do more school and community-minded projects.”

  Aubrey’s beady little eyes bugged.

  Sam had EAST this year, too, but fourth period. EAST was a class that focused on student-driven service projects by using teamwork and cutting-edge technology. The EAST classroom had the coolest computers, laptops, software and accessories, including GPS/GIS mapping tools, architectural and CAD design software, 3D animation suites, virtual reality development, and more. The kids in EAST could identify problems in the community and then use these tools to develop solutions, usually working with other groups.

  “Oh, I’ll talk to Mrs. Twofold about it. She always wants students in LSL to do some community service projects,” Deena said.

  The Leadership and Ser vice Learning teacher, Mrs. Twofold, was very vocal in the school about the importance of getting involved in community service projects.

  “Thanks, everybody. Mrs. Creegle is working on the details. She’s going to send me an email tonight. I’ll forward y’all the information.”

  “Sounds like a good plan of action. Good work, Sam,” Ms. Pape said. “Aubrey and I need to discuss some assignments, so everyone get to work. Sam, as Aubrey asked, please review the blog and reply to the comments.” She turned and led Aubrey to the editor’s desk.

  Nikki took a step closer to Sam. “Me, too. I want to help.” Her voice was low, but Sam knew how much it took for her to volunteer.

  This anti-bullying reporting was going to be big. Bigger than just the school. Bigger than just Sam’s articles.

  That stirring of the gut happened, and Sam recognized that she was onto something that would help her on her career path.

  She had a simple dream: become a great international journalist. Her parents could probably afford to send her to the college of her choice, but Sam was determined to earn her way, and her parents’ respect, by receiving a full scholarship to the University of Missouri, which was ranked as the top journalism college by Princeton Review. For the past three years, two students from Robinson High School, the high school Sam would attend, received full scholarships from Mizzou. But getting on the high school paper was quite the task. They don’t allow freshmen on staff . . . except for the editor of the Robinson Middle School’s paper. That one freshman, they allowed onboard.

  And Sam was determined to be that one. Even if it killed her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Please let Mom be here.

  Sam took the steps down the school ramp two at a time, clutching her backpack. Cheerleading practice had been brutal, but at least Nikki hadn’t had any surprises in her locker after school. Sam knew — she’d dropped by Nikki’s locker on the pretense of needing to make sure she had Nikki’s current email address to send her Mrs. Creegle’s notes.

  The sun beat down on the school’s parking lot. Sam squinted against the brightness, scanning the back row of the parking lot for Mrs. Willis’s car. No faded paint caught the light, and Sam let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her eyes adjusted to the brightness, and in that moment she saw Mom’s car and her mom’s arm out of the driver’s window, waving.

  Relief washed over Sam, and she jogged over. Mom got out, holding her arms wide open. Sam stepped into her mother’s embrace, and inhaled, drawing in the distinct scent of Chanel’s CoCo, the only perfume Mom ever wore. Familiar. Comforting. Love.

  “Oh, my sweet girl, I’ve missed you.” Mom kissed her forehead.

  “I’ve missed you, too, Mom.”

  “How was cheer practice?”

  “Long. Tiring.”

  “Come on, let’s head home and change.” Mom opened the driver’s door.

  “Change? For what?” Sam climbed into the passenger’s seat.

  “Dinner. We’re going out tonight for dinner. You’ve had enough casseroles for a while, don’t you think?” Mom grinned as she started the car.

  “Oh yeah.” Sam adjusted the vents to feel the cold air blast against her face. “And I’m starving. Lunch was pretty bad today.”

  Mom laughed as she pulled the car out of the parking lot onto Highway 10. “School lunches usually are.”

  “When did you get in?”

  “About ten this morning.”

  “Have you talked to Dad? Is he meeting us for dinner?”

  The smile slid off of Mom’s face. “I did talk to him. He’s wrapping up a case and needs to work late. That means it’ll be just us girls.” She smiled, but Sam could tell it was forced.

  Dad not meeting them for dinner? He usually got off early the first day Mom got back home so they could all reconnect as a family (Dad’s word, not Sam’s), but today, he was working late?

  Words wouldn’t form. Sam couldn’t think clearly. She didn’t know what to think. The possibility of her parents getting a divorce set in. Very real. Very scary.

  And Sam couldn’t find the way to open the conversation with her mom.

  “So, tell me about the bullying series,” Mom said.

  Sam told her about the meeting with Mrs. Trees and Mrs. Creegle and their plan of action. Mom made a couple of suggestions and told Sam again how proud she was of her.

  “Have you read the school’s blog?” Sam asked as her mom turned into their neighborhood.

  “I’m sorry, Sam, I haven’t had time yet.”

  Sam swallowed her disappointment. She knew Mom had a lot of stuff to do as soon as she got home — she knew that, but Sam couldn’t stop thinking that she’d gotten home about six hours ago. In six hours, she hadn’t found the time to read a couple of online articles?

  Sam couldn’t stop the feeling that her mom didn’t take her articles seriously. That was silly, because her mom was her biggest fan.

  Mom whipped her car into the driveway, pressed the button, and the garage door rolled
open.

  “Hey, did you know Dad fixed the garage door’s squeak? And the front door’s, too.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know they were making a commotion.” Mom inched into the garage and turned off the car’s engine.

  “Yeah. I mentioned it, and he made a point to fix it before you got home.”

  “That’s nice,” Mom said as she led the way into the house. “Let’s get changed. I’ve made reservations for six thirty at Arthur’s.”

  Arthur’s was the fanciest restaurant Sam had ever been in, and the food was amazing. The absolute best steaks, even better than Dad’s, although she’d never tell him. Eating at Arthur’s was a treat because of how expensive it was — they usually only went for special occasions like birthdays, Mom and Dad’s anniversary, getting straight A’s on her report card, etc. Sam couldn’t remember a single time they’d gone to eat there just because.

  They were going to Arthur’s without Dad? What did that mean?

  Sam hopped in the shower. Ten minutes and a lot of her vanilla-scented soap later, she quickly dressed in jeans and a nice shirt. Her mind couldn’t quite wrap around what might be happening, and her heart pounded erratically at the possibilities. She loved her mom and dad, loved them together, loved them as a family. If that was about to end . . .

  “You about ready?” Mom poked her head inside Sam’s room. “We need to get going so we aren’t late for our reservation.”

  Sam slipped on her dressy sandals, as Dad called them. “I’m ready.”

  Mom smiled big. “I’m excited to have a girls’ night out. I have something I want to talk to you about.”

  A boulder the size of Little Rock lodged in the back of Sam’s throat. Something she wanted to talk about? Was it the dreaded “D” word?

  Sam followed her mom back through the house, into the garage, and slipped inside the car.

  “I think we’re going to have to order a soufflé tonight, too.” Mom grinned. “Let’s be decadent tonight since it’s just us girls.”

  Sam nodded, only because no words could get past the dam at the top of her throat. How on earth would she be able to eat a thing? She certainly couldn’t swallow. Even drinking water would be a special feat. God, please help me.

  The drive only took a few minutes — they didn’t even hit a single red light. Great. Even less time before the devastating news. Just great. They didn’t have to wait to be seated either — their table was ready and set for them. The waiter lit the candle after handing them menus and placing black cloth napkins in their laps.

  Sam couldn’t concentrate. The words on the menu were all jumbled. The good thing was she always ate the same thing, so knew what she’d order: the Arthur’s Filet, well done, with peppercorn sauce. She and mom would split the La France Triple Cheese Au Gratin potatoes and the sautéed green beans. All were her favorites, but right now, she didn’t want to eat a single bite of any of it.

  When the waiter appeared with their bread, Mom ordered sweet tea for both of them. Sam took fast sips from her water glass, pushing the lump down as best she could. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?” Might as well get straight to the point. God, please help me get through this without making a scene. I don’t want to be that girl who bawled and had to run outside.

  “Let’s wait until after we order, okay?” Mom smiled, but even in the dimmed light, Sam could see the little tremors at the corners of her mouth, a tell-tale sign that she was nervous.

  Which made Sam all the more nervous herself.

  The waiter returned with their drinks, took their meal and dessert order, then left as unobtrusively as he’d come.

  Sam drank water like she’d been crossing a desert for hours.

  “Well, I’m sure curiosity is eating you up about now, huh?” Mom licked her lips.

  Sam nodded and took another drink.

  “I wanted to talk to you alone about this, without your father here, because I know you’ll understand how much this means to not only me but to our whole family.”

  Sam set down her glass and gripped her stomach. All the water swished around, cramping and tightening.

  “I know you’ll also understand that I didn’t make this decision lightly.”

  She was going to be sick.

  Sam jumped to her feet. “I have to go to the ladies’ room.” She rushed to the little hallway and pushed open the door to the ladies’ room. She caught sight of herself in the huge mirror over the sink to the right. Her face had flushed a deep pink.

  She shoved open the first stall door, stepped inside, then shut the door, and leaned her back against it. Cramped in the small stall, Sam closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing. Slow and steady.

  God, please help me. I don’t think I can do this. Not without having a major meltdown right here and now or puking everywhere.

  Sam opened her eyes, then stepped out of the stall. She washed her hands and splashed a little cold water on her face. She’d better hurry back to the table, or Mom would come looking for her, worried.

  She definitely didn’t want to have this conversation in the bathroom.

  With a final deep breath, Sam returned to the table.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Mom asked.

  Sam nodded. She planned to just keep her mouth shut and let Mom deliver the bad news. She concentrated on clenching her back teeth. Maybe she could keep the tears back that way. She absolutely hated to cry in front of anyone.

  “As I was saying, what I’m about to tell you, I didn’t make the decision lightly. There were many discussions with your father and a lot of prayer.”

  Just say it already!

  Mom took a drink of her tea, then let out a long, slow breath. “I’ve been offered a special assignment from National Geographic to go and cover the unrest in the Middle East, parts of Asia, and other places. This is a very unique opportunity for me. Not only will I be the sole journalist on this trip to be featured in the magazine, but I’ll also be able to get some truly meaningful information for the book I’ve wanted to write for years.” She let out a long breath.

  This was what she had to tell Sam?

  “It’s an amazing opportunity, and my heart is set on going, but your father is concerned because of the amount of time I’ll need to be gone.” Mom stared at her over the flickering candle and single red rose in the small vase in the center of the table. “I would be gone almost six months.”

  Sam finally found her voice. “Six months?”

  Mom nodded. “There’s a chance it won’t take that long. Six months is the longest it would be for.”

  Six months without Mom?

  The waiter appeared at their elbows and served their steaks and side dishes. The smell teased every tastebud on Sam’s tongue. Her stomach even growled in agreement. The waiter left.

  “Would you like to bless?” Mom asked.

  Sam shook her head. How would she handle Mom being gone for six months? The most she’d been gone so far was two weeks, and Sam thought she and Dad would go bonkers.

  Mom bent her head and said a quick prayer aloud. She lifted her head and stared at Sam. “What do you think?”

  “You and Dad aren’t getting a divorce?” The question popped out before Sam could stop it.

  “A divorce? Heavens, no.” Mom’s hands froze over the au gratin potatoes. “Is that what you thought I wanted to talk to you about? Whatever on earth would give you that idea?”

  Sam’s face burned as she shrugged. She stared at her steak. “I don’t know. Just that Dad said for me not to be disappointed if you didn’t make it in to pick me up today, and you had someone come into your room while we were FaceTiming yesterday, and . . . well, I don’t know.”

  Mom chuckled. “My sweet girl, I love your father with everything I have, and he loves me. We don’t agree one hundred percent on my taking this job, but that doesn’t mean we don’t love each other and aren’t committed to each other and our family. We’re praying, together, about this big decision.”

  A th
ousand waves of relief washed over Sam.

  “Dad told you not to be disappointed because I had to fly on standby this morning. The flight the airline had booked me on wouldn’t have gotten me home in time to pick you up.” Mom smiled, her face lighting up. “But I was convinced I could get on an earlier flight, and I did.”

  Sam took a bite of her steak. The flavors burst inside her mouth. She couldn’t resist smiling as she chewed.

  “And someone did come into my hotel room. The representative from National Geographic. She and I shared a hotel room so we could discuss their final offer.” She slipped a forkful of green beans into her mouth.

  Sam swallowed. “Dad doesn’t want you to go?”

  “You know what a worrier he can be when it comes to keeping us safe. I think he’d prefer I not go to areas of civil unrest, but that’s where the stories are.” Mom’s eyes lit up brighter than the flame on the candle on the table. “You know I’ve wanted to do a book on world conflicts for some time now. This would give me the chance to get the rest of the great research I’d need. When I got back, I could concentrate on putting together a book.”

  “But it’s six months.” Sam hated the whiney tone that slipped into her voice, but she couldn’t stop it.

  “I know. And that’s why I asked Dad to let me take you out to dinner alone. To let you hear it from me.” She took a sip of tea. “You understand why it’s important to me, right?”

  Chasing stories . . . it was a life Sam wanted for herself one day. Of course, she envisioned her dreams happening before she got married and had a family. Would she be willing to put a career on hold for her family? Could she ask her mom to do that? “I do, Mom.” Yet she was hesitant.

  “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. It won’t come around again.” Mom finished her steak.

  Sam chewed in silence. It wasn’t fair of her to ask her mother to put her dreams on hold for her and Dad. But was it fair of Mom to put herself in danger and risk being taken away from them permanently? There didn’t seem to be an easy answer.