A Charmed Life

by Jenny B. Jones

  “It’s going to be a few weeks. Seems like forever.” I dig for a can opener in a drawer. After asking Hunter about his day, I update him on the Brotherhood.

  “You be careful around all those athletes. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “Oh, you and Luke. I can take care of myself.”

  “Luke?” Static crackles on the line.

  “My editor.”

  “Is he old and ugly?”

  “Um . . . not exactly.” He’s tall, muscular, and gorgeous. If you like the nerdy, intellectual, rude sort.

  “Do I have any reason to be concerned?”

  “Of course not!” Puh-lease. “He’s nothing like you. He’s obnoxious. He’s insensitive. He treats me like a total idiot. I would rather run my tongue across Jake’s cow pasture than date Luke.”

  “I just wanted to make sure. This long-distance thing really is hard, isn’t it, Bel?”

  I sigh into the phone. “It’s only been a week, but it feels like forever since I’ve seen you.” The microwave dings. “I better go. I’m babysitting Robbie tonight while my stepdad whups up on some grown men.”

  “Miss ya.”

  “Miss ya right back.” And I slide my phone back into my jeans.

  “Robbie! Your gourmet pasta meal is ready!” I walk into the living room, where Superman flies across the television screen. “Robbie?”

  His coloring books lie open on the floor. I walk to the stairs and call for him again.

  No answer.

  Running up to his bedroom, I find cars scattered, action figures strewn, and Legos arranged in piles. But no Robbie.

  After two minutes of searching and yelling, I race outside, bellowing his name. I check the barn, the old truck, my car, the trees, the pond. Everywhere.

  I stand in the center of the pasture next to Betsy the cow, squeeze my eyes shut, and beg God for help. Please, Jesus. I seriously need a hand here. When I walk in that house, let Robbie be there. If something happens to that kid, I will die—throw myself in front of a tractor and die.

  Fifteen minutes later I collapse onto the couch, hoarse from yelling Robbie’s name. My pulse races as I pick up my phone and call my mother.

  No answer.

  I hit redial until my finger aches.

  I text her an urgent message then watch the phone for a reply.

  What do I do?

  Long moments pass, and fighting the urge to throw up, I press the three dreaded numbers.

  9-1-1.

  “I need to report a missing child.”

  By ten o’clock, I’ve puked twice, talked to the police three times, and tried to call Mom a million times. And nobody at Wiener Palace will pick up the phone.

  At 10:05, the picture I gave the police from our mantel flashes on the evening news. The blonde reporter describes his last moments in the house, mentioning the fact that his stepsister was in charge of him for the evening. Great, way to paint me a loser.

  I’ve called Hunter and Mia both, but like everyone else, they don’t answer. It’s like I’m totally alone in the world tonight.

  An hour later, I jump off the couch when headlights shine through the windows. My heart sinks when I see it’s Budge. He is going to rip my head off and feed it to the cows for a late-night snack. Um, hi. Remember your brother? Yeah, I lost him.

  The back door slams, and swallowing back equal parts bile and dread, I meet Budge in the kitchen. “Budge, I lost your brother. I mean he’s gone.” Snot drips out of my nose like water from a faucet. “I don’t know what happened. One minute I was fixing him SpaghettiOs, and I don’t know what’s in those meatballs, but the next minute the cow and I are walking the fields yelling for him, but he wasn’t there. And the police came and one was really short and I kept looking down at him and thinking, ‘Wow, he’s almost like a midget,’ and then they took down all this information, and you just missed him on the news.” I wail my last few words.

  Budge doesn’t even blink. “You lost me at meatballs.”

  I take deep, shuddering breaths and wipe my eyes. “I said”—I pause as a sob closes my throat—“your brother is—”

  The door flings open again and Robbie waddles in dragging his red cape. “S’up?”

  “Wh-what?” I point at the six-year-old. “It’s Robbie. That’s your brother.” I rush to Robbie and wrap him in my arms. “Thank You God, thank You God, thank You God.”

  “Stop squeezing me. Lemme go. You can’t kiss superheroes.

  You’re going to suck my powers out!”

  “Bella,” comes Budge’s deep voice. “Step away from the child.”

  I look up, still clutching my stepbrother. “Where have you been? I’ve looked for you everywhere. The police have looked everywhere.”

  Robbie shimmies out of my grip. “I went to the Wiener Palace.”

  “What?” I pin Budge with my evilest glare. “He was with you the whole time? I’ve been entertaining the Truman PD and watching your brother on the Tulsa news, and you had him with you at work? Are you kidding me?” I’m yelling.

  “Yeah.” Budge picks a piece of lint from his vest. “Good job keeping an eye on my brother.”

  “But how did you get to Budge’s work? Why would you leave and not tell me?”

  “I rode my bike. It took a really long time, but I’m pretty strong like my dad. And I told you I was going to go save some people.”

  “I might have to take a coloring break and go save some people.”

  “I thought you were teasing!”

  Robbie frowns and shakes his head. “Being a superhero is not something to joke about. It’s my responsibility to the world.”

  I kneel down to get in his face. “Unless you were there passing out antacids like a Rolaids fairy, I can’t imagine why you went to the Wiener Palace. ”

  Robbie scuffs his toe along the linoleum floor. “Budge needed me. You made him sad, and he needed me to cheer him up.”

  I jerk my head toward Budge. “And you couldn’t have called? What kind of crap is that? I’ve been out of my head with worry.”

  He shrugs. “Not my fault you couldn’t hack ten minutes alone with my brother.”

  I clench my fists at my side. Do not punch your fist through his nose. “You’ve got issues, you know that, Budge? You’re mean, you’re thoughtless, and you don’t care about anybody but yourself.”

  The front door opens and closes. Anxious voices call from the living room.

  Mom and Jake.

  Budge laughs and pushes past me. “Looks to me like you’re the one with the issues.”

  chapter twenty-eight

  The Holy Church of the Sacred High School has a great choir. It’s like watching Sister Act. Well, minus the nun outfits. But these people know how to sing some Jesus.

  I sit next to Lindy and Matt, opting for some time away from the family. While I didn’t really get in trouble last night over Robbie’s disappearance, Mom wasn’t exactly what I’d call happy with me either.

  As I clap along to the up-tempo song, I watch Budge sitting with his friends. He stands with his arms crossed, not singing, looking like he wants to be anywhere but church. Jake totally grounded him for not calling me last night when his brother showed up at the Weiner Palace. And of course, Budge is furious with me. Like it’s my fault. If this is the kind of stuff I’ve missed not having siblings, I can’t say I feel deprived.

  “What do you say we pick up a pizza and go hang out at the city park?” Matt asks after the service. “Do you want to go?”

  “I’m in a dress.” I turn to Lindy. “You’re in a dress.”

  “Oh. I guess I’ll have to pass. I would hate to muss up my skirt.”

  She flips her hair and her perfume floats between us. “It’s Moochie, you know.”

  I cough. “Gucci.”

  Matt’s face falls. “Come on, Lind. We haven’t thrown the football around in forever. You’re always too busy doing your nails or worried about messing up your pedicure or something.”

 
Lindy looks to me, waiting for me to throw her a life preserver.

  “Maybe a day at the park would be fun. Get a little sun while we eat. Sure, why not?” I link my arm through Lindy’s. “Maybe you can do some boy-watching too. A nice day like this—who knows who’ll be out there?”

  “I’m not going out there so you two can gawk at the guys. Let’s just go hang out and have a good time, okay?”

  We step into the aisle, and I lean close to Lindy’s ear. “He sounds jealous, doesn’t he? It’s totally working.”

  Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I hope he gets the idea soon. I’m sick of dressing like a princess.”

  “But this is the new you, Lindy. It’s not a phase. You’ve been totally transformed. Lots of girls would kill to have those Chanel shoes you have on right now. You went from looking like a sports warehouse model to a runway model. And he’s into it. I’ve seen him looking at you.”

  “Yeah, like I’m a psychopathic shopping freak.”

  “Just trust me.” I pat her arm and join my parents.

  “Hey, I’m going to the park with—” I choke on the rest of my sentence as I notice a familiar bald man in the family huddle.

  “Bella, you remember Mickey.” Jake pats his trainer’s back.

  Yes, how have you been since I broke into your gym and found my stepfather throwing himself on another man?

  Mickey takes his eyes off me and focuses on Mom. “Jillian, how’s work? Are you adjusting to life at the diner?”

  “It’s getting better. I never realized what a hard job it was to be a waitress.”

  Um, probably because you weren’t made to be one. My mom used to serve on the boards of directors for charities. Now she’s serving anything that comes with fries.

  Mickey clasps his hands behind his back, making his chest muscles pop through his oxford shirt. The guy may be pushing fifty, but he could probably take on any member of the Truman football team. “And how is Dolly?” He turns his attention to the floor.

  “She’s fine, Mickey. Maybe you should come by the diner for a piece of pie someday next week.” Mom’s face is hopeful.

  “I haven’t . . . um . . . had any of Sugar’s banana cream pie in years.”

  Mom wraps her small arm around Jake’s ox of a trainer. “Sounds like it’s been too long. Come in to the diner, Mickey. Things might’ve changed in there.”

  Mickey scratches his head. “Oh, did they redecorate?”

  “She means Dolly,” I blurt. “Not the wallpaper.” Boys. They’re so dense. “So I’m going to the park with Matt and Lindy, okay?” I give my mom a quick squeeze.

  “Why don’t you ask Logan to go?” Mom asks as my least favorite Trumanite joins us. She jerks her blonde head toward him.

  “Bella, wasn’t there something you wanted to ask Logan?”

  I pry my clenched teeth apart. “Budge, would you like to accompany me and some friends to the park?”

  “I’d rather eat hot lava.”

  “Okay then.”

  “Bella, go get him.” Mom pushes me into the flow of the crowd as my stepbrother walks away.

  “Budge, wait.” I catch up with him in the school lobby. “Look, you and I have gotten off on the wrong foot, and I’m sorry. Let’s—”

  “I don’t need you, Jillian’s attempts to be my mom, or this stupid church. I’m out of here.”

  “What is your problem?” I catch his arm. “I know losing your best friend had to hurt a lot—still does, I’m sure. But being mad at all of us isn’t going to accomplish anything.”

  “You don’t know jack about my life, so butt out.” He busts through the lobby doors out into the yellow sunshine, his dark mood like a cloud trailing behind him.

  “I’m going to pray for you, Budge,” I call out.

  At the park I turn off my bad thoughts about Budge and sink my energy into the pepperoni pizza Matt places in the middle of the blanket.

  After Lindy leads us in a quick prayer, my mouth closes around my first bite.

  And it’s everything I can do not to spit it out.

  “I see that face.” Lindy points her finger. “Do not tell us how they make pizza in New York. This is Truman, Bella. Don’t be a pizza snob.”

  “I’m not!” I wipe a string of cheese off my chin. “It’s getting better.” I chew and smile. “Mmmm.” It’s like eating cardboard encased in mozzarella. “So, Matt, what did you think of the party Thursday night?” It’s the first chance I’ve really had to talk to him about it.

  “It was okay.” He stares off toward a giant sandbox inhabited by squealing toddlers.

  I so want to just come out and ask him about the Brotherhood, but I can’t. I don’t know him well enough. And what if he alerted the other guys that I’m onto them? I’d never find out anything else.

  “You and the team seem pretty . . . close.”

  “Yeah, I guess we are.”

  “It’s so crazy,” I laugh. “I mean we were there for hours, and I never found out whose house we were at. Do you know whose cabin it was?”

  “No. That’s the fun of it.” Matt wipes his mouth with a napkin.

  “Yeah, well, it’s not my kind of party,” Lindy says. “I don’t think we’ll be going back. Right, Matt?”

  He continues his study of the sandbox.

  “Right, Matt?”

  “I don’t know, Lind. It’s good to get away from it all sometimes.

  None of us drank, so what’s the harm?”

  Her eyes narrow to slits. “Because we don’t need to be around that stuff. You’ve always been adamant about that.”

  “Lighten up, Lindy. We had a good time.”

  “Yeah.” I nudge her in the ribs. “You said you had a great time dancing. Didn’t you, Matt?”

  His eyes linger on Lindy for a brief second. “You do have some new dance moves I’ve never seen before. I always thought you hated dancing, but you totally held your own Thursday night.”

  “Thanks.” She bats her curled eyelashes. “Bella introduced me to this guy in New York, and we danced . . . a lot.”

  I hold my breath, waiting for Matt’s reaction.

  “I brought a Frisbee. You ladies want to toss it around awhile?”

  That’s it? No jealousy? No declarations of love?

  “I’m game.” Lindy forces a smile and jumps up, her skirt swishing around her.

  We keep the Frisbee going for a few minutes when my girl radar picks up on something. Yes . . . I’m almost certain . . . I do believe there might be cute boys somewhere close.

  “Is that the Truman soccer team?” Just beyond Matt’s shoulder a group of guys pile out of cars and onto an adjoining practice field.

  “Yeah. They’re pretty good. The captain’s a little cocky though.” Matt spins the Frisbee to Lindy.

  A guy balances the soccer ball on his knee. I struggle to bring him into focus, but something tells me— “Luke Sullivan.” And my editor in chief moves closer in our direction and comes into full view. “He’s cute.” The awestruck words tumble out of my mouth before I can reclaim them. Preppy, uptight Luke has leg muscles any quarterback would envy. And biceps. I had no idea. I just had no idea.

  A Frisbee bounces off my forehead. “Ow!”

  Lindy laughs. “See something over there you like?”

  “What? Me?” I fling the disc and rub my head. “No, of course not! I was . . . um . . . just seeing if anyone of interest for you was over there.” This time I catch Lindy’s pass. “I know you have your heart set on one guy, but it doesn’t hurt to keep your options open.” And I release the Frisbee, sending it flying between Matt and Lindy.

  They both dive for it, falling into a tangled heap on the grass.

  Matt rolls away, shaking with laughter. Lindy jumps up, her skirt stained with green. “Good job, Matt. Look at my outfit.” She brushes it with frantic hands. “And my hair.”

  His freckled face falls. “What’s into you lately? It’s like you’ve changed.”

  “You’re
just now noticing?”

  “I’ll be glad when this girly phase of yours is over.”

  “This is me, Matt. This is who I am.”

  “And I don’t like it.” His voice rises above the slight breeze.

  “I can’t stay one of the guys forever.”

  “I never thought of you as one of the guys!”

  “Um, I don’t see you burping rap songs in front of any other girls, do you?”

  Matt scoops up the Frisbee and the pizza box. “I’m out of here.

  Let me know if you run into my old friend Lindy. I miss her.” He dunks the box in the trash and stomps away.

  Lindy’s shoulders sag. “This isn’t working, Bella.”

  “Of course it is.” I can hardly keep from rubbing my hands together in giddy satisfaction. “Don’t you see? He’s finally noticing you.”

  “Yeah, noticing that he can’t stand me. Fat lot of good that’s doing.”

  “Lindy, be patient. He’s going to go home, and you are going to invade his every thought. Obviously you’ve gotten under his skin.

  If he’s unsure about this new you, it’s because he’s afraid of what he feels.” I totally saw this same thing on Tyra last week.

  “I’ve got basketball practice in a few hours. I’ll see you later.”

  I watch Lindy go and feel a hitch of nerves. What if I’m not bringing Matt and Lindy together? What if I’m detonating their friendship? But he has to fall for the new Lindy, right? She dresses better, she smells like a girl, and she has killer highlights. Who could resist that?

  I stroll across the grass, past a row of swings and an old wooden teeter-totter, lost in thought.

  A whistle blows, jarring me from my trance, and I realize I’ve walked to the soccer field. My eyes locate Luke instantly. He shouts commands to his teammate, then high-fives him. He runs down the field, the chiseled muscles above his knees flexing with every step. The wind sails through his hair, and he pushes the ball toward the goal. I can’t help but smile as I see his expression when he sinks the ball in. A grin lights up his face, and his teammates pile around him. Gone is the editor mask. No arrogance. No overblown ego. Out here, he’s just a boy.

  I reach for my cell and try Hunter.

  Right to voice mail. “It’s Bella. Remember me, your girlfriend? Give me a call.”