“It’s my delight, Lovey. Now tell me more about your school.”
Sierra tried to think of things to say. Inwardly she was still planning to finish out the week and then tell her parents she wanted to enroll in the public high school. She told Granna Mae about the balloons in her locker and how she popped them and threw them away at the end of the day so she could stick her books inside.
“Oh, and then, if you can believe this,” Sierra said, “a girl in three of my classes had a dress on that was made out of the same material as my skirt. The chances of that happening are pretty slim, don’t you think?”
“You should go shopping with her then. She has your taste.”
The comment felt abrasive to Sierra. Nobody had her taste. Her clothes were her trademark. That wasn’t something shared.
“As a matter of fact, why don’t you invite her over sometime? What’s her name?”
“I don’t know.”
Granna Mae looked at Sierra with a hint of disappointment pulling down her sometimes droopy right eye. She didn’t say anything, but her hands danced to her coffee mug. She lifted it and sipped slowly.
Sierra felt the need to redirect the conversation. “Do you remember that one girl I told you about from Carnforth? Katie? I invited her to visit me sometime. She might come up this summer. You’ll like her; she’s a lot of fun.”
“Did you learn the names of any of the other students today?” Granna Mae didn’t fall for diversion.
“Yes.”
“And what are their names?”
“Well, I met a guy named Randy. He had a really nice coat. He said it was from Nepal.”
“And?” Granna Mae prodded.
“And his father bought it for him.” Sierra knew that wasn’t the trail of conversation Granna Mae had been trying to direct her down. She couldn’t help it. All this questioning made her feel guilty, even though Granna Mae hadn’t said anything that should make her feel scolded.
Angie stepped back over to fill Granna Mae’s coffee mug. She made friendly conversation with Granna Mae, which Sierra was glad for. It meant she didn’t have to give any more answers about school. It had been hard enough finding satisfactory answers for her mom on the way home from school.
Granna Mae took her time on her malt and coffee. An elderly man came in and sat a few seats down. He and Granna Mae greeted each other and asked the customary questions. The man seemed to know who Sierra was, even though she couldn’t remember if he was a neighbor or what. His presence added a further opportunity for sidetracking Granna Mae from her mission to probe into Sierra’s first day of school.
When they left, Granna Mae paid the check and left a quarter for a tip. Sierra thought that was awful chintzy. She wished she had some money on her so that she could leave more.
As they stepped outside, they found the sun had broken through the clouds, making rainbows in the oily puddles in the asphalt.
“Thanks again for the treat,” Sierra said as they drove through a maze of old houses in the Mt. Tabor district of Portland. She could see why Granna Mae had put down her foot about moving out of this area. Besides being a beautiful neighborhood, she also had lifelong friends and neighbors. She was connected. And in a real way, Sierra envied her.
ten
THE SECOND DAY of school Sierra continued her role as the uninterested observer. Nothing anybody said or did received much of a response from her until she was at her locker after school. She had just closed the metal locker door and turned around, when right in front of her was a brown leather backpack on the back of a guy. She had seen that backpack before. It was like Paul’s.
Sierra hurried down the hall so she could pass the guy and then nonchalantly turn around and look at him. She knew it wasn’t Paul. No way. What would he be doing there? Still, she had to look.
When she was about five feet in front of him, Sierra turned her head and looked at the backpack’s wearer. She recognized him as the guy who sat in front of her in biology. He caught her glance and gave her a shy smile.
Oh great! Now he thinks I am trying to get his attention.
He wasn’t an ugly guy or anything, sort of average in every way—average height, average brown hair, average facial features. He looked like the kind of guy whose favorite ice-cream flavor was vanilla. Not at all the sort of person she was drawn to. He was probably nothing like Paul.
For a moment Sierra was bothered that she had used Paul as a standard by which to judge other guys. How could she compare them? She didn’t even know Paul. She would never see him again. Why should he even be in her thoughts?
Sierra kept walking down the hall and out the double doors until she spotted her mom in the line of cars.
“So?” Mom asked as she maneuvered the little car out of the school parking lot. “Was today any better?”
“It was fine,” Sierra said.
“I don’t need the car tomorrow,” Mom said. “You can drive if you want to. If you need to stay after school for anything, that would be fine too.”
Sierra knew what her mom was hinting at. She had brought up the topic of joining a school club at the dinner table the night before. Sierra had quickly used the excuse that all the clubs met after school. Now Mom was eliminating the obstacle.
“Sure,” Sierra said, careful to avoid any suspicion, “I’ll take the car tomorrow.” The rest of the way home she paid careful attention so she could find her way back tomorrow.
She had no trouble finding her way to school on Wednesday. However, she met with difficulty getting back home. She left right after school was out and entered the freeway with no problem. Then she missed the off-ramp and ended up driving into thick traffic that led to downtown Portland. She didn’t want to exit off the next off-ramp unless she was sure an on-ramp existed that would take her back the direction she had come. That way she would be sure to find her way home.
Sierra passed up the next two off-ramps. The first one didn’t have a freeway return. The second one did, but she couldn’t tell until she had already driven by. Before she realized it, she was approaching one of the huge bridges that crossed the Columbia River and led to downtown Portland.
“Oh, man! What am I going to do?”
She felt dwarfed in her little car by all the vehicles passing her on either side. She drove slowly, trying to think through her next move. Just knowing water was underneath her gave her the heebie-jeebies. Nothing like this bridge existed in Pineville. And she had never driven in so much traffic.
Sierra curled up her toes inside her boots and quickly tried to think through her choices. She could find a phone, call her dad, and ask him to come rescue her. No. She could stop and ask someone how to get back to Granna Mae’s house. At least she knew what district she lived in. That was a possibility. But the best scenario would be to find her own way back. If she could turn around and retrace her trail, she should be fine.
With renewed determination, Sierra clutched the steering wheel and exited the bridge into the business district and a maze of one-way streets. As soon as she found a place to turn, Sierra made a right and followed the one-way street until she could make another right. She was headed for a freeway on-ramp.
“Okay, okay!” she hollered at the driver behind her who honked because she was going too slowly. She gave the car a little more gas and wished her parents had acquired Oregon license plates. She could imagine the guy behind her yelling, “Californian, go home!” She refused to look at him in her rearview mirror. Besides, she had way too much ahead to concentrate on.
For example, which off-ramp to take. She drove for a while before any exits appeared. The first one didn’t sound familiar at all so she tried to switch lanes to avoid the off-ramp. But it was too late. The car behind her was on her trail, and a steady stream of cars was passing her on the left. She had no choice but to exit.
Sierra drove off to who knows where. But at times like these her adventuresome spirit kicked in, and she refused to be overcome. She drove a few blocks until she came
to a gas station, parked to the side, and walked into the mini-mart connected to the gas station. Then, acting as if this were all planned, Sierra bought herself a Mars candy bar and Portland map.
Just as Sierra was exiting the mini-mart, a sports car pulled in. The driver was Jalene, who appeared to be alone. Wondering if she would recognize her, Sierra considered talking to her.
As Sierra thought through her options, a black Jeep Wrangler bounced into the gas station, with its radio loudly playing music. Two college-age guys were in the Jeep. Sierra remembered seeing several older students in the mini-mart, and she realized she must be near Lewis and Clark. Now her options increased.
Sierra found herself smiling for the first time that day as she climbed back into her car and unfolded the Portland map.
Katie would probably call this a God-thing, my getting lost and ending up so close to Lewis and Clark. What if I drove around campus and had a look? Maybe God has directed me here so I could bump into Paul.
She felt her heart beating faster as she located her position on the map and realized she was less than two blocks from the campus. Her parents wouldn’t worry about her being late since Mom had encouraged her to stay after school. Still, she felt sneaky.
Should she call? That would be a good idea. Sierra fumbled in her backpack for some phone change and the slip of paper that had her new phone number on it. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t memorized it yet. Numbers just weren’t her thing.
Locating the paper with the phone number, Sierra unfolded it and let out a groan. The paper must have gotten wet, because all the numbers were now smeared. She could dial several combinations of numbers until she came up with the right one. No good. She had to use the pay phone and had less than a dollar in change after buying the map and candy bar.
Of course, I wouldn’t be stuck using a pay phone if I had a cell phone. Like that’s going to happen anytime soon.
Trying not to get sidetracked on her cell phone dilemma, Sierra spun the options, looking for an immediate solution. She could call information and ask. That would be good. Actually, that would be wise.
Sierra tore open the candy wrapper and took a nibble on her Mars bar. She remembered Cody once saying it was easier to say “I’m sorry” than “May I please.” His philosophy certainly applied to this situation. If she did call home and say she was going to drive around the campus, her Mom would probably tell her to come home and they would go another time, together.
However, getting lost and ending up here wasn’t something she had planned. It was really quite innocent. She could have a quick peer around campus and then, with the help of the map, find her way home. Her story would be as true as could be.
Chomping into the candy bar and chewing a big chunk now, Sierra decided to take the “I’m sorry” route. It wasn’t as if she were disobeying or anything. This was one of those gray areas her dad had talked to her about, one of the many decisions a teen needs to make for herself and then be willing to live with the consequences of that choice. No problem. What kind of consequences could there be to a simple spin around some college campus?
A light rain began to fall as Sierra swallowed the last bite of her candy bar and backed her VW Rabbit out of the parking place at the gas station. She waited for an opening in the traffic before pulling onto the street. Glancing in her rearview mirror, she noticed Jalene’s car was right behind her. She doubted Jalene had even seen her, let alone recognized her as one of many passengers at the airport baggage claim a week ago.
When the first clearing appeared in the flow of traffic, Sierra pulled out and puttered the two blocks toward the university with Jalene right behind her. Sierra wished it were the other way around—that she was the one trailing Jalene. Who knows? Jalene might even lead her to Paul. Now that would be interesting.
Something inside Sierra didn’t feel quite right. A subtle voice kept telling her that she had stepped a little too far outside the safety zone. At the same time, an urge within pushed her forward, insisting she be daring. The rugged pioneer spirit of hers rose to the surface, and she forged ahead, entering the campus with Jalene right behind her.
Sierra kept an eye on Jalene’s sports car as it turned into a parking lot beside a large building, which was about six stories high. One side of the building was glass windows. Sierra wondered what the impressive building was. She watched Jalene get out of her car and jog in the drizzle toward the building with some books under her arm. The library, maybe?
Sierra could venture into the library, couldn’t she? She parked and swiftly darted into the building. It was the library. And it was full of college students. Sierra wondered what the chances were that Paul would be in the library right now. She didn’t see Jalene anywhere.
Sierra walked past the front desk and past the card files on the left and stopped. All along the windows were sequestered nooks, each filled with students. What if Jalene had come to the library to meet Paul? What if they were sitting in one of those study areas right now, and Sierra happened to bump into them? What would she say, “Your girlfriend followed me over here, and now I’m following her”?
She glanced around one more time, impetuous enough to stay simply because she liked it there. She liked being around college students. This was where she felt she fit in, much more than at high school. These students and the campus had a maturity about them, and it suited her just fine. She saw herself as one of them.
“Excuse me,” a male voice said softly.
Sierra spun around, expecting to see Paul and, at the same time, dreading it.
A bespectacled student who was shorter than Sierra stood next to her. He shifted the load of books under his arm and said, “You have a candy wrapper on your … well … back.” His eyes moved to Sierra’s behind.
She tried to turn to see what he meant. Somehow her Mars bar wrapper had gotten stuck on the seat of her jeans, and she had walked around the whole library that way.
“Oh, thank you,” she said, peeling off the wrapper and appearing unruffled. A glob of chocolate and even caramel remained on her jeans. Sierra took even, steady steps through the library, out the door, and straight to her car.
eleven
WHAT SIERRA HAD NOT counted on was the heavy after-work traffic. She had studied the map carefully and had found the freeway with no problem. The freeway, though, was more like a parking lot. Everyone in Portland seemed to want to go the direction she was going. The best she could do was inch along and flip through the radio stations, trying to find company for the commute home.
She located a Christian radio station, which was playing a song by one of her favorite performers. Sierra sang along with her and sneaked another peek at the map.
She arrived home at ten after five. The minute she walked in the door, she knew she was in trouble.
“I got lost,” she quickly pleaded before her mother had a chance to explode. “I ended up at Lewis and Clark somehow. I bought a map and found out how to get home, but the traffic was really heavy.”
“Why didn’t you call?” Mom said. Her arms were still folded across her chest, and her face was still red. It did seem she was a little relieved to hear Sierra’s explanation.
“I thought about it, but I didn’t have the number.”
“Sierra,” Mom said, shaking her head. “I’m not going to buy that one.”
“Look.” Sierra reached into her backpack and pulled out the smeared phone number.
“You learned how to dial information long ago. The wet paper is no excuse.”
“If I had a cell phone …”
“Sierra, don’t try to change the subject. You could have found a way to call us. Now go wash up. Dinner is on the table.”
This was the worst, going to dinner with an unresolved problem. It meant Sierra’s situation would be discussed among the family members at the dinner table. She would have rather been yelled at by her mom and dad and gotten it over with.
The truth was, neither of them yelled very often. Almost all thei
r family problems were handled with discussions. Everyone was free to express his or her feelings and opinions at any time.
After her father prayed over the meal, he asked Sierra to explain again what had happened, which she did. This time she included the part about going into the library.
“Did you see him?” her father asked.
“No,” Sierra said. Does my dad know me, or what?
“See who?” Gavin asked, his six-year-old curiosity piqued.
“A young man named Paul,” Dad said.
“Paul?” Granna Mae asked. She sat motionless, and Sierra feared her grandmother’s mind would do another one of its time warps. Then Granna Mae looked down at her plate and began to quietly eat her peas.
“I met him on the plane coming back from England,” Sierra said, hoping the current reference would help Granna Mae to know they weren’t talking about her son.
“I see,” she said. “You had an uncle named Paul. Did you know that, Lovey? He had a paper route in Laurel Hurst. One morning he had a flat tire right in the middle of deliveries, and do know what he did?”
Everyone was listening to her story, relieved that she was talking about the past in a normal way. Sierra was glad for the diversion, which took the attention off of her.
“Instead of calling home, he pushed that bike the rest of the way, delivered each paper. Then he pushed his bike all the way home in the rain. He was an hour and a half late. I thought he had been kidnapped or worse. Then he walked in that door, and just imagine, I yelled at him.” Granna Mae cut her chicken into an extra small piece and lifted the bite to her lips.
A reverent silence followed.
“You could have called,” Mom said, calmed but still determined to make her point. “This is not Pineville. You can’t drive around a city this size and think it’s completely safe.”
“Tawni drives down to Clackamas every day,” Sierra said.
“Yes, but we know where she’s going, where she’ll be, and when she’ll be home. If she’s late, we know where to start looking. It’s completely different from what you did today. You mustn’t do that again.”
Sierra Jensen Collection, Volume 1 Page 8