Georgia’s lips curved into the silliest of grins.
“I’ve got to get to homeroom,” I said, backing away slowly. I stumbled away from the desk, completely unaware of my legs. I wanted to hate how easily even thoughts of Gabe could make me weak at the knees, but I couldn’t muster the slightest bit of resentment. I imagined I looked like Bambi trying to walk for the first time, and something about the way my skin tingled left me feeling a little woozy. Gabe left me feeling a little woozy. “Let me know if you have anything else for me. I’d be happy to make it up to you.”
She nodded once, and just as I reached my hand for the doorknob, she cleared her throat. I turned back to her, and she stood behind her desk.
“You know,” she said, and I tilted my head at her gentle tone, “I like this side of you—this smiling person, this new girl that you’ve become. I like it a lot.”
“Yeah, me, too,” I said, returning her smile. “I’ll see you around, Georgia.”
“Mandy,” she said, just as I turned away again. “Have lunch with us today, okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, feeling an even bigger smile stretch across my face. “Yeah, okay. That sounds great. I’ll see you at lunch then.”
Sixteen
It had been a full week since I’d seen or heard from Gabe. Each day that went by without word or sight of him, I found myself on the verge of screaming. Last week I couldn’t seem to shake him; he seemed to turn up around every corner. But something happened on the street last Thursday, and whatever it was, it kept him from making any more of his unannounced trips to Sugar Creek. The school’s RI team had hosted three events already this week, and he hadn’t bothered showing up for a single one.
He’d basically disappeared, and I didn’t care what his excuse was, I still felt like he owed me something. I knew he’d been upset the last time I saw him, and I understood better than anyone that he needed space. But how could he flip like that without any kind of explanation? He’d driven all the way down here to see me one evening, and we spent the entirety of the following day together. Things were going so great, and then he just turns around and blows me off for no apparent reason? It didn’t make sense. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I hadn’t!
The more I let myself think about it, the more I got into my own head. I overanalyzed every word, every, tiny thing he’d ever said to me. I played every scenario over and over in my mind, and I kept digging for answers. What happened? I thought we were headed in a good direction. The longer I thought, the harder I was on myself, the more I began to actually believe that maybe I hadn’t interpreted his last words in the way he’d meant.
Now’s not the time for either of us, Mandy. You need to go. Please.
Had that been Gabe’s way of saying that, in spite of the fact that he didn’t want us to miss out on time together, he really believed that we weren’t in the right time or place to actually be together? All that time, walking away from that conversation, I’d been thinking of it in a completely different way. I thought his sudden need to push me away was only a ploy to get me to go back to my sister at the soup kitchen. But when I didn’t hear from him, each day it became clearer to me that was not what he’d meant. He hadn’t just meant for that night, he’d meant for good.
“All right, girls, change of plans,” Dad said, sticking his head through my bedroom door.
“It’s just me,” I said, looking up from my English essay. “Bailey’s down at the soup kitchen covering my spot. She finished her homework already. I have to finish this paper by tomorrow, so she let me hang back.”
“Bailey’s out volunteering?” he asked, his eyes widening.
“Crazy, huh? She doesn’t seem to hate it,” I said, just as impressed as my father. “She’s made some new friends, and she seems quite—wait a minute,” I said, finally meeting his cold, gray stare. “What did you mean by that?”
“Hmm?”
“When you came in here just now,” I said, pushing my books aside and giving him my full attention. “You said, all right girls, change of plans. What did you mean? Change of plans for what?”
Dad took in a long breath. He looked up to the ceiling for a minute as if to say a prayer, and for my father, that was a huge deal. He’d never been the most religious or spiritual type, but if he was about say what I thought he was about to say, the only person who could save him from my wrath was God himself.
“If I don’t accept the offer by Sunday,” he said, “the deal is off the table.”
“What?”
“The writers want to get the ball rolling on Deacon’s return, and they need my commitment to move forward,” he said, stepping into the room. “I have to give them a straight answer now, Mandy.”
“And then what?” I asked. “You have to give them an answer, but if you say yes, how long do we have? We still have our six weeks, right?”
He lifted his head again and rubbed the back of his neck.
“If I say yes,” he said through jagged breaths, “taping will begin two weeks from tomorrow.”
“Two weeks?” I yelled, jumping up from my bed. “You can’t be serious!”
“It’s just one of those things, Mandy,” he said. “These kinds of opportunities don’t stick around forever. When the platform’s there, you gotta jump.”
“I’m not moving to California, Dad,” I yelled. “We had a deal!”
“That was before I knew my deal in LA had an expiration date.”
“So what?” I asked. “In your tier of priorities, keeping a promise to your agent and a stupid soap is more important that keeping a promise to your own daughters?”
Of course, he didn’t have to answer the question. I already knew the answer. I’d known the answer for a long, long time.
“It’s not like that at all, Mandy,” he said, taking a step closer to me. “You’ll understand some day when you have a real dream of your own. Right now it doesn’t make sense to you, and I understand that. You think I’m trying to hurt you, but I’m not.”
“Dad, I have a ‘real’ dream,” I said. “You know that! I want to stay here in Sugar Creek. I want to win the RI scholarship and go to Desden U. I want to write books. I want to tell stories. I’m—a—writer!”
“Like your mother,” he said under his breath, and it was the first time he’d ever admitted it out loud. All along we’d known, but Dad had never said it out loud. He always came up with a million reasons to steer me away from writing, but he never blatantly told me why it bothered him, even if it had been clear from the beginning—and it’d been very clear.
He didn’t want me to be independent. He needed me—us, both Bailey and me—to need him. He needed to be needed. With Bailey, she’d always turn to him for guidance. She’d lean on him for acting advice, for financial help. She’d always cling to his support. But somehow, Dad had led himself to believe that being a writer meant that I’d magically turn into Mom. Turning into Mom meant no longer needing him, and no longer needing him might as well be the end of the world.
“So let me get this straight. It’s okay for Bailey to follow in your footsteps and be an actor, but I can’t have the same dream Mom had?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s exactly what you meant.”
“You can write in LA, Mandy,” he said, pretending, but only for a second, that he supported my decision. I didn’t bite. I didn’t believe for one second that he’d change his mind about my career options whether we were in Sugar Creek or California. He was just going to say whatever he had to say to get me there. He’d fight one battle at a time. “There are more opportunities out there for you.”
“I don’t want to write screenplays and sitcoms, Dad. I want to write novels, and I want to do it here!”
“Well, that’s just too damn bad, Amanda,” he said. “I’m calling Ripken tonight, and I’m taking the job. We’re leaving next week, so you can start packing your bags. We’re not discussing this any longer.”
“Dad, no,” I begged, but
he threw his hands in the air.
“End of conversation.”
“Mandy, are you okay?”
I looked up at Lashell and felt my chest fall heavily at the sight of her worried expression.
Because my sister had taken the car to the soup kitchen, I hadn’t had anything to drive to track her down. When I stormed out of the house, I stepped into the pouring rain and ran. And I just kept running for six blocks until I finally reached the church.
My clothes were soaked through to my skin, cold and wet, and I was freezing. I could feel the black trails of mascara dripping down my cheeks, but all I could really focus on was trying to find my sister.
“Where’s Bailey?” I asked, and I looked around the kitchen. I ran into the packed dining room and didn’t find her on the line. Returning to the kitchen, I looked back to Lashell. “Where is she? Why isn’t she here?”
“She and Gabe went to the market to get some more pasta,” she said. “We ran out.”
“Gabe was here?” A sharp pain wrenched itself deep into my gut, and I knew the pain could’ve been caused by any number of things. Maybe because he’d been avoiding me. Maybe because he hadn’t bothered showing up for a week? It could’ve been that he’d left me hanging with words of uncertainty, words that I couldn’t interpret no matter how hard I tried. Or it might’ve been the fact that he was making a food run with my sister, and I was supposed to stand there and act like that didn’t bother me.
“Mandy,” Lashell said, dropping her hands on my shoulders. “Honey, what’s going on? Are you okay?”
“No!” I screamed, shoving her arms off of me. “I’m not okay! I—need—to—talk—to—Bailey!”
My eyes darted around the kitchen, and both Carla and Fletcher turned to watch as I stumbled, nearly losing my balance and falling to the floor.
“This was all just one big mistake,” I said, dropping my shoulders. “All of it. This whole thing! I didn’t have friends, I didn’t need friends, and I most definitely didn’t need a man in my life complicating everything.”
“Mandy, maybe you should—”
“Stop!” I screamed, covering my ears. “Don’t tell me to calm down!” While it did just enough to muffle the sound of her voice, it did nothing to drown out the sound of the agonizing cries surging through me. There was something screaming, something buried so deep inside of me that clawed to reach the surface, begging for a way out.
My hands slid up from my ears and dug at the roots of my hair, and as the screaming became louder, all I could do was close my eyes and pray that it would stop. I pressed my eyes shut and counted slowly to myself, trying to ignore the pounding in my brain. But it only grew louder as I counted.
My eyes fluttered open and I fought to catch my breath.
Everyone in the kitchen who hadn’t already been looking turned to watch me, and the buzz in the dining room quickly died down.
“I have to move to California next week,” I said, finding my voice again. “Seven days, Lashell. I have to quit the program and leave my school to move back to the one place I never want to be again.”
Gabe and Bailey rounded the corner. Both of them stopped in their tracks as they watched me standing in front of them, my hair a ratted mess and my clothes dripping a puddle of rain water at my feet.
“Mandy?” my sister asked. “What’s wrong? Why are you—”
“We’re leaving,” I said, struggling to catch my breath. “Dad’s calling Ripken tonight to take the job, and we’re leaving on Friday.”
“What?” she asked. “No, we had a deal. He promised.”
“And when has that ever meant anything?”
She set the grocery bags on the counter and took a step closer to me.
“We’ll fix this,” she said, reaching forward to take my arm, but I jerked it away. “Mandy, come on, don’t do that. We’ll fix it.”
“There’s nothing to fix,” I said. “We’ll just have to go home and pack… and get ready to say goodbye all over again.”
I thought that Gabe would have something to say, especially to that, and especially since he’d been so distant. I thought that he would step up and try to be a voice of reason, but he didn’t say a word. He just stood there and watched me, and I couldn’t read anything in his expression. I turned away, giving up all hope that he’d offer any kind of explanation as to why he left me hanging for a week—even now when I needed comfort the most—and I opened the door and stepped outside.
Sulking through the downpour, I sloshed through the puddles and headed for home.
“Mandy, wait,” his voice called through the rain as I reached the edge of the parking lot. He managed a brisk jog across the pavement, but his limp slowed him down. When he caught up to me, he opened his arms, and I simply shook my head.
“No,” I said, refusing the hug he’d offered. “I don’t want that.”
“Then what do you want?” he asked, dropping his hands. “How can I help?”
“You can start by leaving me alone, Gabe,” I said. “You’ve been doing an excellent job of that already this week, so it shouldn’t be too hard. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
“Mandy—”
“I never wanted this in the first place,” I said. “I didn’t want your friendship, your kindness, or your challenge to make me a better person. I was fine just the way I was. I just wanted to be left alone. You knew that! You knew that from the start!”
He winced at the harshness of my tone, but he never said a word. I hated him. He’d gotten close. He forced my guard down, and he made me believe that I was wrong for not believing in the notion of love and romance. He made me feel something I never wanted to feel. He did. It was his fault that I had nearly broken every rule, and then he turned around and left me with a thousand unanswered questions and a broken heart.
Gabe didn’t draw back. I expected him to. I wholeheartedly expected him to turn away, but he didn’t. Instead, he took a step closer, and his eyes softened as he lowered his open arms to wrap himself around me.
“No!” I yelled, pushing him back. I had to fight to wriggle out of his arms. “Don’t touch me! Don’t hug me; don’t stand there and act like you’re going to make this better. I was fine before I met you, Gabe. Sure, I was alone, but at least I wasn’t hurting. And this past week, these last seven days that I haven’t heard from you or seen you, that’s all I’ve done! I’ve hurt—because of you! Because you made me open up, you made me feel. And then I show up here tonight and find out that you were out with my sister—”
“Oh, no, Mandy,” he said. “We were—”
“I don’t care where you were,” I yelled over the rain as it pelted against us, drenching us. “I just know how it made me feel, and I hate it. I don’t want to feel angry. I don’t want to feel jealous. I don’t want to feel anything, especially where you’re concerned.”
“Mandy, please—”
“I don’t want to hear your explanation,” I yelled louder, and my voice was strained from trying to scream over the roaring thunder. “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say, Gabe. I just want to walk away, go home, and forget I ever knew you.”
“Please, listen,” he begged.
“Leave—me—alone,” I said. “I don’t get why you’re having such a hard time understanding what I’m saying to you. I had no one to say goodbye to, Gabe. I could’ve just left.” I shook my head and looked away. “And now I have to go home, pack everything I own, and leave all of this behind me like it never happened. And the hardest part of all is that I don’t have a single clue how I’m going to even start to erase all of this. I don’t know how I’m going to find a way to forget you, and I hate you for that!”
Three days passed since I stood outside in the pouring rain, yelling at Gabe. I hadn’t heard from him once since I turned away from him, and I doubted I would ever hear from him again. I didn’t know Gabe well enough to know that he would listen and actually leave me alone. I didn’t know if that had made me happy or sad.
>
He told me once that he wasn’t the kind of person who could be pushed away, but I didn’t feel that I’d really given him much of a choice this time. I yelled at him. I pushed him away—literally. I hadn’t given him any reason to believe it would be okay to keep pressing.
I told him I hated him.
I told him to go.
So he stayed away. And I moved forward, trying to settle my unfinished affairs before I ran out of time.
“Okay,” I said, smoothing the paper out in front of Carla. “I don’t have much, but this is what I’ve been able to get so far.”
I showed her the list of sponsors and donations I’d drummed up for the big, finale fundraiser; I’d been able to cover the fliers, the newspaper ads, and the band. I called Jones last night and asked him to call in a favor with his band mates; they all agreed that a charity benefit would be a great opportunity for a little exposure. The school was going to provide the space, the tables, and the chairs. The dance committee offered to chip in and decorate with old archived and leftover decorations. All that was really left for Carla, Fletcher, and Lashell to do was find someone to take care of the food. With a little bit of advertising, the dance would go off without a hitch.
We were sitting at the diner Sunday morning, going over all of the basics. I’d called and invited both Carla and Fletcher, but he was tied up with homework and she was pressed for time. Still, she managed to come out for a quick breakfast.
“You killed it, Mandy,” she said, smiling down at the list. “When did you have time to get all of this done?”
“Little by little, day by day,” I said, taking in a deep breath. I didn’t want to tell her that it hadn’t been all that hard. Most everyone I talked to was eager to help, especially since it was for charity. Between all of the hard work that everyone in our group had done, throwing in the grand finale dance next month, I couldn’t foresee any way that the other districts would beat out Sugar Creek for the win. It just couldn’t happen.
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