by Shana Norris
“You always make it better than I can,” I protested.
Andrea pushed her plate away. “Paisley and I are going out shopping this morning,” she announced. “Do you guys need anything?”
“Again?” I asked. Andrea just averted her eyes.
Mimi looked over at Pop. “I can’t think of anything we need. Can you, Ted?”
Pop wiped at his thick gray mustache with the back of his hand after taking a sip of his coffee. “No, I think we’re all right. You girls have fun.”
I wanted to ask Andrea what they could possibly need when they just went yesterday, but stopped myself. It was too early and I was still too sleepy to enter a war zone just yet. I barely listened as they chattered about stores, thinking instead about the music selection for the party I was DJing that weekend. When they left and the kitchen fell quiet for the first time all morning, I let out a long sigh of relief.
“So,” Mimi said, starting to clean up the breakfast dishes from the small round table, “we need that extra room cleaned up so Paisley can sleep in there. I hoped you might be willing to straighten it up before you have to leave for work.”
It wasn’t my idea of a great way to spend my morning, but I couldn’t expect Mimi and Pop to move the boxes that were piled in there. Mimi already did so much around the house, and Pop’s health wouldn’t allow him to do much heavy lifting. And I definitely didn’t want to spend another minute bunking with Paisley, whose loud texting had kept me up half the night.
“Okay,” I relented. “I’ll get started on it.”
Soon I was in Andrea’s old room, pushing boxes of books, clothes, and other things around the floor, trying to organize. Mimi hated to throw anything out. I picked up a flimsy, worn-out cardboard box marked photos and put it on the bed. The springs creaked under its weight, then the box tore open. A flood of loose photos and papers spilled over the mattress and floor.
Today was not my day. And it wasn’t even nine o’clock in the morning.
I grabbed some tape from Mimi’s craft room and repaired the box before I started piling the photos back in. Most of them were of a teenaged Andrea—hanging out with friends, hiking in the mountains, at the beach. I picked up her junior prom picture. She was with a guy I didn’t know in a beautiful slim-fitting red dress, and her blonde hair was piled high on her head in ringlets.
Then I found Andrea’s senior prom picture, which was completely different than her junior one. Her black dress with its loose chiffon skirt couldn’t hide the round stomach that protruded underneath. I counted up in my head quickly. Proms were usually held in April, which meant that Andrea would have been seven months pregnant when this picture was taken. Seventeen, the same age I was. There was no guy smiling next to her. Not much of her smile was left either.
I tossed it back in the box.
I wasn’t surprised that I didn’t come across any photos of my dad. I had met him a handful of times in my life, but he’d never really had anything to do with me. Andrea didn’t want him to be part of my life. Now, he was little more than a guy who sent birthday cards and the occasional Christmas present. Basically a stranger.
Just like the teenaged Andrea in these photos. Just like the Andrea of today was, even though she came in and out of my life constantly.
A loud buzz made me jump. I snatched my phone from the dresser to find a text from a number I didn’t recognize.
What are you up to today? Besides thinking about me, of course. :)
I stared down at the words, rereading them a few times and trying to figure out who would be texting me.
Who is this? I texted back.
Guess.
I studied the number. An unfamiliar area code. A face popped into my head—a narrow face attached to spiky blonde hair. Rory Garrison must have gotten my number from Carter. That was the only explanation I had, and the only person I could think of who might text me something as snarky as Guess.
Must be Channing Tatum because he’s the only guy I’d spend my time thinking about. I grinned as my fingers tapped out the words.
Ouch. I’m hurt. Make it up to me at Mona’s sometime this week? Burger o’clock?
My heartbeat quickened in my chest. So he hadn’t totally forgotten that he’d asked me out.
Sure. I typed, then sent it out with a whoosh before I could change my mind.
“I thought you were supposed to be cleaning,” Pop said. I snapped around. He stood in the doorway, his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the doorframe. “Katie, are you … blushing?” he smirked.
“What?” I shoved my phone back into my pocket and started to gather up the photos I had scattered across the bed. “No. I just got distracted.”
Pop chuckled and stepped into the room. He reached into the box and pulled out a picture of Andrea dressed in a black ballet leotard, her arms and legs arranged in a ballet pose. “This seems like a lifetime ago,” he said. The laughter faded from his eyes. His voice was soft and wistful as he looked down at the picture.
I could still feel the red coursing through my cheeks, so I bent low to look for any photos that might have fallen underneath the bed. I plucked something out: a letter with the logo for the University of North Carolina School of the Arts in the upper left corner. It was addressed to Andrea Watts.
“I didn’t know she had kept that,” Pop said, reaching to take the letter from me. He sat down on the edge of the mattress and smoothed the paper out carefully on his leg. “Your mom always wanted to be a dancer.”
I cringed inwardly at the words “your mom.”
“She lived for ballet, day and night,” Pop went on. “Ever since she was a little girl, all she wanted to do was dance. We were so excited when she got accepted to the School of the Arts.”
I didn’t have to ask what happened. I already knew.
“Why didn’t she go back into ballet later?” I asked. “After … after she had me, I mean.”
Pop pressed his lips together for a moment before answering. “She tried. She wanted to keep dancing, and even tried out about a month after you were born. But … it was probably too soon for her to audition, only a few weeks after the birth, but she insisted.”
I bit my lip as I looked down at the prom picture of pregnant Andrea. She smiled at the camera, but I could see the sadness in her eyes—the disappointment. She had missed out on her dream in life because of me.
Pop seemed to notice the thoughts going through my head because he suddenly reached out and mussed my hair. “But we got you in the end, and that’s better than any scholarship or stage performance or anything else.”
I managed a small smile. “Thanks, Pop,” I said. Something popped into my head and I couldn’t hold it back. “There are no photos of my dad …” I trailed off.
Pop’s chest rose as he sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t know much about your father, Katie. Andrea always insisted that everyone would be better off without him.” He squeezed my hand and gave me a wide smile that deepened the lines in his pale cheeks. His blue eyes sparkled. “We love you, Katie-bug. All of us, Andrea included.”
I smiled back at him, but inside I could feel a storm of familiar what-if’s brewing. Would Pop and Mimi be living on a beach in Florida if it wasn’t for me? They’d have more money to pay their bills and they could go off and enjoy their retirement rather than worrying about how they’d pay for college. Maybe Andrea would have become the dancer she’d always wanted to be and so she wouldn’t keep coming around asking for handouts from them every couple of weeks. Maybe she’d be married and with a real family of her own.
Maybe everything would be completely different for everyone. A few hours later, after we had put Andrea’s things into neat piles in the closet, the front door slammed shut and Paisley’s voice called out, “I’m home!”
Feet thudded down the hall and then she appeared in the doorway, grinning wide at us. “Hi, Pop! Hi, Kate! Look what I bought.” She held up three bags, one each from The Gap, Aeropostale, and American Eagle. “Aun
t Andrea had to go to work, so we couldn’t stay out as long as we wanted to, but I still got some good stuff.”
Without waiting for an invitation, Paisley plopped down on the bed, rocking Pop and me back and forth as she settled in. She dumped the contents of her bags on the mattress, making a mess of sparkly tops and pink shorts and floral dresses.
“I have to get ready for work,” I announced. I didn’t have the time or the patience to admire Paisley’s shopping spree.
“Can I go with you?” Paisley asked, suddenly forgetting her display of clothes.
I wrinkled my nose. “I’ll be working. For four hours.”
Paisley shrugged. “So? It’ll be fun, hanging out at an ice cream shop all day. I can sample all the flavors and watch the people coming in and out. I’ve always thought it’s so cool that you have, you know …” she stopped, like she was searching for words. “… a job.”
I closed my eyes and counted to ten.
“So, that’s a yes?”
Paisley’s shrill voice was already grating on my nerves, but I couldn’t think of an excuse that would keep her at home. I looked to Pop for help, but he said, “I think it would be great for the two of you to spend the afternoon together.”
I sighed. “Be ready in fifteen minutes or I’m leaving without you.”
Chapter 7
Exactly fifteen minutes later, I drove toward Mountain Dairy with Paisley in the passenger seat. She talked nonstop from the moment we walked out the door, even as she buckled herself into the seat and when she reached over to change the station on my radio.
“There are some really cool stores here,” Paisley said, turning the knob on the radio to switch quickly from one station to another. “I mean, not as many as we have in Atlanta, of course, but some pretty good ones. A lot of funky small boutiques that have that real Asheville vibe, you know? I picked up some great stuff that I can’t wait to take back home and show my friends.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, barely listening as I maneuvered the car between traffic toward downtown. We had a lot of summer vacationers in Asheville, but the traffic wasn’t as bad as it would be in a few months, once the fall tourists came to see the leaves changing colors and to get fresh apples.
“I know my friends will love them,” Paisley went on, not seeming to notice that I wasn’t as into the conversation as she was. “Especially my BFF, Jamie. She’ll be so jealous of some of the things I got. She’ll be planning her next vacation in Asheville, just you wait.” Paisley continued turning the dial back and forth on my radio, not seeming to find anything she liked.
Somehow we made it to Mountain Dairy without me throwing Paisley out of the car. I parked, got out of the car, slammed the door closed, and walked into the store, not waiting to see if Paisley was following.
I sighed with relief when she plopped down into a bright red booth and whipped out her phone. In the back, I grabbed my apron. Luka was back there, snapping open buckets of ice cream.
“What do you think?” he asked. He gestured to his hair, which was tipped with lime green.
“Nice,” I commented. “Is that part of our promotion for the new key lime flavor?”
Luka rolled his eyes. “You’re hilarious, Katie Watts. Your friend Ashton inspired me. She’s always changing her hair color, so I thought I’d try it out, too.”
The time clock beeped as I swiped my badge under it. Then I clipped it on my collar before tying my apron around my waist. “It really looks good. And hey, you could really use it as an opening for talking up the new flavor.”
Luka tossed a handful of napkins at me before I scooted out of the room and back to the front. Talking with Luka had lightened my mood a bit. I didn’t even get too annoyed when I noticed Paisley had moved right to the counter.
“Carlos is making me a chocolate sundae with extra peppermint chips,” Paisley announced. She lifted her chin and batted her thick black eyelashes at Carlos, who was scooping chocolate ice cream at the other end of the counter. “He said it was on the house. Isn’t that right, Carlos?”
Carlos fumbled the ice cream scoop, which went clattering to the ground.
“Careful,” I warned her. “His girlfriend is the captain of the wrestling team.”
Paisley shrugged and leaned forward conspiratorially. “Nothing wrong with a little flirting. Especially when it gets me free ice cream.”
The chime of the door saved me from responding to that comment. I put all of my focus on serving customers ice cream, especially since Carlos was putting all his attention into making Paisley’s order. Her laugh echoed over all the other noises in the room.
When I finally got a break twenty minutes later, Ashton was leaning against the counter.
“Hey,” I greeted her. “You want anything?”
“Just a strawberry cheesecake milkshake,” Ashton said. She patted her stomach. “I’m going light today.”
I laughed. “Yes, cheesecake is always at the top of the lists of diet food.”
“It’s on my diet,” Ashton insisted, pushing her purple braid away from her face.
After I finished making Ashton’s milkshake, I looked up to find her seated next to Paisley at the counter—the two of them taking a selfie together.
“You didn’t tell me your cousin was in town,” Ashton said, pausing to flash one more smile at Paisley’s phone. “And you didn’t introduce us. Rude, Kate. We had to do it ourselves.”
“That must have been tough,” I teased, sliding Ashton’s milkshake across the red counter toward her. “Besides, Paisley’s arrival was a complete surprise.”
Ashton raised her black eyebrows at me, but Paisley spoke up before she could comment. “Yeah, I just decided to come up and visit my grandparents. You know, with Pop’s health not being so great lately, my parents thought it would be a good idea for me to spend some time with him.” She shrugged. “Or maybe that’s just their excuse for getting me out of the house.”
I mentally ticked off all the places I could send Paisley to get her out of my house. How much trouble was Paisley getting into at home that they needed to pawn her off on someone else for a while?
“My parents can’t wait to get rid of me in a month when I leave for college,” Ashton joked. “My mom is already planning how she’ll redecorate my room and everything.”
I knew Ashton was wrong; Mr. and Mrs. McNeil were probably dreading the day that Ashton left. But sometimes Ashton couldn’t see what was right in front of her—which is why it took so long to get her to believe that Carter liked her.
“Have you got everything you need for your dorm yet?” I asked my best friend.
Ashton nodded, licking away a bit of milkshake from the corner of her mouth. “I’m still buying stuff, but I’ve already got the essentials. I wonder how my roommate would feel about my having a blow torch in our room so I can work on my sculptures?”
“Maybe if you bring her lots of chocolate, she won’t mind,” I said. “Chocolate always works.”
“That’s true,” Ashton said with a serious look on her face.
“Or beer!” Paisley piped up. Ashton laughed politely, but I rolled my eyes. If Ashton and I fit into any crowd, it definitely wasn’t the party crowd—we’d spent as many nights watching Netflix at home as our classmates did drinking in their parents’ basements.
“What about you, Kate?” Ashton asked.
“I haven’t even started buying my stuff yet,” I confessed, sighing as I leaned on my elbows on the speckled countertop. “I have so much to do and to get before I go, and I feel like time is ticking away too quickly. But I’m so excited.”
“I know!” Ashton exclaimed, bouncing with excitement. Her big brown eyes sparkled as she spoke. “It’s going to be so awesome, out there on our own for the first time. No parents to tell us what to do. We can be and do anything we want. I can’t wait!”
Paisley had a look on her face like she’d eaten something bad in her sundae. She glared at the bowl, stabbing at the ice cream with her red spoon.
“Did Carlos mess up your sundae?” I asked her.
Paisley’s eyes snapped up to mine, and then she threw down the spoon and pushed the sundae away. “No, it’s fine. I just don’t see what the big deal about college is. It’s just more years of school.”
Ashton scoffed. “It’s not just school. It’s college. It’s the beginning of the rest of our lives.”
Paisley shrugged, her mouth pinched tight like she was unimpressed. “Whatever. I don’t see what the big deal is.”
I shot Ashton a look, quickly rolling my eyes. Of course Paisley wouldn’t see the point in college. She was too immature to get why it might be important. But that didn’t mean I’d let her bad attitude ruin my excitement. Not even the money situation could’ve bummed me out at that moment.
Everything would work out, I reminded myself. All I had to do was nail that interview.
As my best friend, Ashton had a knack for reading my mind. “Have you thought any more about that scholarship?” she asked.
I straightened the napkin dispenser and then the cup of extra spoons before answering. “I have to. It’s the right thing to do. It will help Mimi and Pop so much.”
“Are you sure it’s worth it?” Ashton asked.
What other choice did I have in the matter? I needed this scholarship.
But before I could explain that, Rory Garrison walked into Mountain Dairy, guitar case slung over the shoulder of his unbuttoned yellow-and-blue plaid shirt. His green eyes locked on mine as he made his way across the ice cream shop.
My hands trembled as Rory sauntered toward the counter, his own hands deep in the pockets of his black jeans. His blue T-shirt fit just right; not too tight that it looked ridiculous and not too loose that it hid his toned chest. How did his hair look perfectly messy while also looking like he hadn’t put any work into it?
“Hey, Kate,” Rory greeted me casually. “I was hoping to find you working today.”
My throat went dry and I forgot how to form words. My mouth opened, but nothing came out except a strangled croak.
Ashton took one glance at me and swiveled on her stool. “Hi,” she said, holding a hand out toward him. “I’m Ashton, Kate’s BFF. You must be Rory. My boyfriend Carter lives next door to your brother.” Rory shook her hand, nodding like he was trying to keep up.