Dark Blue: Color Me Lonely with Bonus Content

by Carlson, Melody

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” I tell her. “And I hope things work out with you and your new friends. But if they don’t, there’s always someone waiting to be your best friend, Jordan. And, believe me, he’s a friend who will never let you down.”

  “Whatever.” She rolls her eyes and revs her engine now and I can tell she’s impatient to go.

  “Take care,” I tell her. “And keep your eyes on the road.”

  “Yeah, sure.” She shakes her head at me. “Have a nice life, Kara.”

  “Thanks, I am.” I close the door just in time for her to peel out, which really looks ridiculous in an old VW bug, and I feel sorry for her tires since they already look somewhat threadbare to me.

  As I go up the stairs to the apartment, I can’t help but feel sorry for Jordan too. And I know that I’ll be praying for her more than ever now. I guess I never realized just how needy she really is. I probably never would’ve either, if she hadn’t dumped me.

  I smile to myself as I slip my key into the lock on the door. It suddenly occurs to me that God knew what he was doing all along. All the crud that I went through, all the pain and suffering—the loneliness. I think it was definitely worth it.

  Thank you, Jesus! I pray. Thanks for being my BEST FRIEND.

  reader’s guide

  1. Kara and Jordan had been friends since kindergarten, but how would you describe their friendship? Tight? Shallow? Dependable? Unbalanced?

  2. Although they’d been friends for years, do you think Kara and Jordan knew each other as well as they thought they did? Why or why not?

  3. Kara was so devastated after Jordan dumped her. What was she dependent on Jordan’s friendship for? Why do you think she relied on the friendship so much for these things?

  4. How would you describe a good friend? What qualities do you look for in your own friends?

  5. What makes a friend trustworthy? Untrustworthy?

  6. In your experience, do friends take on certain roles in friendships? (In other words, does one usually have more power or influence than the other?) Why do you think this is? Can this ever change? How?

  7. Can friends outgrow each other? Is it okay to move on? Explain.

  8. Is any friendship strong enough to last forever? What would make a friendship that strong?

  9. What’s most important to you: Friends? Family? God? Your dog?

  10. Do you believe that Jesus can be your best friend? Is it true that he’ll never let you down or dump you for another? Can you trust him with your heart? Explain why or why not.

  TrueColors Book 2:

  Deep Green

  Coming in April 2004

  The story of two girls who both want one guy, and the

  choices that hurt them and heal them along the way.

  One

  I KNOW WHAT EVERYONE’S BEEN SAYING ABOUT ME, BUT IT’S NOT MY FAULT that Timothy Lawrence dumped Shawna Frye the day after the Harvest Dance. Really, it’s just the way life goes sometimes. I mean just because you’ve gone with a guy for a year doesn’t mean you own him heart and soul. And I didn’t see any engagement ring on Shawna’s finger. She swears Timothy got her a promise ring once, but she claims she lost it swimming at the lake last summer. I’m not sure if I believe her. Especially since Shawna is saying all kinds of things these days. Mostly about me. And mostly untrue, not to mention unkind.

  “That Jordan Ferguson is a backstabbing tramp,” I overheard her tell Lucy Farrell in the locker room today. Naturally, she didn’t realize that I could hear her going on and on from behind my closed door of the bathroom stall. Or maybe she did. Maybe she just didn’t care that her words cut me deeply. Of course, everyone knows that she wants to hurt me. I’m just glad that she’s not the violent type or I’d have to be watching my backside. At least I don’t think she is. But why she was telling all this to Lucy Farrell, who’s really not even involved in our group, is totally beyond me. Not that Lucy’s not nice, she is. But it’s really not any of her business. I suspect Shawna’s just looking for new sets of ears, since everyone else is probably getting sick and tired of hearing her whine and complain about me all the time.

  The really sad part is that I honestly thought Shawna and I were friends. Good friends even. And I really liked her. Next to my old best friend, Kara Hendricks, Shawna was the best friend I’d ever had. She’s fun and funny, and we’re both cheerleaders and have the exact same taste (including boys, as it turns out), but I’d really hoped we could be friends for a long, long time.

  “Didn’t you think she’d get mad when you stole her boyfriend?” Amber Elliot asked me the other day. I could tell she was looking at me like I was the village idiot. Like, Duh, how dumb are you, Jordan Ferguson?

  But the truth is I didn’t. “I told you that Timothy said they were over with,” I explained to Amber in my most convincing tone. “He said that they both knew their relationship was history and that they were only staying together until the Harvest Dance, and only because he’d promised to take her to it.”

  “That’s not what Shawna says,” said Amber with eyes that still looked doubtful.

  Now the really hard part here is that I’m the new girl in the group. And everyone is loyal to Shawna. And most of them are siding with her already. Amber’s the only one who’s been trying to stay in the middle ground, but that might have more to do with being head cheerleader than with being my friend. Still, I haven’t given up on her.

  “What do you think I should do?” I asked her. “Should I break up with Timothy?” Of course, I knew that no matter what she said that I wouldn’t do this, couldn’t do this. But I was curious as to how she would respond.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “But you and Shawna better sort this all out before basketball season starts. We can’t have two snarling cheerleaders spoiling everything for everyone else.”

  I forced my best smile. “I’m trying, Amber, really I am. But Shawna won’t even speak to me.”

  “Well, give her time to chill.” Amber rolled her eyes dramatically. “Thank goodness football season is almost over with.”

  “And Tim says that basketball season is supposed to be really good,” I said, hoping to encourage her.

  “Yeah, it’s supposed to be. Let’s just hope the cheerleaders can do their part to keep it together without murdering each other before the season is over.” She shook her head as if I was personally responsible for the morale of the entire team. “I gotta go now.”

  I waved goodbye and wished I had said something more convincing. I mean, I could really use someone like Amber to be solidly on my side. The truth is I feel pretty alone right now. Even Kara Hendricks, my old best friend, seems to be holding me at arm’s length these days. But at least I have my Timothy. That’s some consolation prize!

  And I can’t deny that I’ve had the hots for Tim ever since last year. He was a junior then, but already playing on the varsity basketball team, since he’s that good. Naturally, he didn’t even know that I existed back then. But I still enjoyed watching him from a distance. I used to cheer for him from the bleachers like he was the only one down there. And he looked totally awesome in his blue and red uniform, and I really liked watching him dribble that ball down the court with style and grace. Most of all I liked his smile. I still do.

  Of course, I never told anyone this. Not even Kara. My feeling is that when you really, really like someone, it’s best to play your cards close to your chest (as my dad would say). It gives you the advantage. And I think that has a lot to do with how I managed to hook Timothy too. I acted pretty nonchalant toward him. Like I could take him or leave him. I laughed lightly at his jokes, but then gave it right back to him as if I didn’t care what he thought about me. But the truth is, I did. I did a lot.

  And then when he asked me to dance with him at the Harvest Dance, since everyone else was sort of switching partners. I just acted all aloof, and like, well, okay, I suppose I could dance with you. Kind of like hard to get. And he kept getting more and more interested.
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  “I don’t ever remember seeing you around school,” he told me as we danced a slow dance. “Until you made cheerleader anyway. So where were you hiding all this time?”

  I shrugged. “I’ve been around.”

  And so it went. A regular cat-and-mouse game. But he thought he was the cat pursuing the mouse. Little did he know.

  Still, I never really dreamed that he would pursue me seriously. At least not so quickly anyway. But the very next day he called me up and then came over to my house. He told me that he’d been postponing his breakup with Shawna, but that the time had finally come. He seemed slightly disturbed about the whole thing, which I thought was rather sweet and endearing. But I tried to console him and assure him that if it was really the time to break up, the best thing was to just do it, and do it as quickly and painlessly as possible.

  Maybe I was wrong about that.

  about the author

  MELODY CARLSON has written dozens of books for all age groups, but she particularly enjoys writing for teens. Perhaps this is because her own teen years remain so vivid in her memory. After claiming to be an atheist at the ripe old age of twelve, she later surrendered her heart to Jesus and has been following him ever since. Her hope and prayer for all her readers is that each one would be touched by God in a special way through her stories. For more information, please visit Melody’s website at www.melodycarlson.com.

  FORGOTTEN

  Seventeen and Homeless

  Melody Carlson

  [CHAPTER 1]

  I allowed myself to believe there was such a thing as do-overs a few months ago. I should’ve known better, but it was a hot July afternoon and my head was throbbing after a torturous day of selling hot dogs from a greasy, smelly food kiosk owned by a “friend” of my mom’s.

  Vernon (aka “Vermin”) Smithers had worked a deal with someone in the city, allowing him to park his Hot Diggity Dog House right in front of the town’s only public swimming pool, which meant I worked like a dog, sweated like a pig, and never got a break or a tip. I was subjected to this inhumane treatment for the miserly reward of minimum wage. To top it all off, at the end of my shift, feeling and smelling like an overcooked hot dog myself, I had to ride my bike home.

  Consequently, on that day when my mom announced that life as I knew it was about to change, I barely even questioned her. “I’m taking a job in Stanfield,” she blurted out as soon as I opened the front door.

  “Stanfield . . .” I went for the fridge, scavenging to find a cold soda. “Isn’t that like a couple hundred miles from here?”

  “I already gave notice on our house,” she said in an excited voice. “We have to be out of here by the end of the month. My job starts the first week of August.”

  “Seriously?” I wiped the cold can across my throbbing forehead and attempted to think rationally. Heat stroke or not, this was my life we were talking about. Well, my mom’s and mine. Still, I wasn’t sure how to react. I mean, as much as I loved my mom, she’d never been the most reliable, predictable, or dependable person on the planet. Plus, she’s bipolar, and judging by the gleam in her bright blue eyes, she was definitely experiencing a high that day.

  “I know exactly what you’re thinking, Adele.” Her brow creased as she pressed her lips tightly together. “But this time you’re wrong.”

  I decided to play innocent as I sat on the futon that also served as my bed. “I’m not thinking anything, Mom. I’m just surprised about this new development. Tell me what’s going on.”

  Her smile returned. “Well, it’s a huge opportunity for me — for both of us. In fact, you’ll get to graduate from a school that’s rated really high in the state.” Then she rattled on, telling me more pluses and perks about Stanfield as well as the old college friend who offered the job to her. “I have no doubt that this move is exactly what we both need, Adele.”

  It was clear she’d done some research too. And although I felt a twinge of doubt because . . . well, I know my mom . . . and I know she exaggerates sometimes . . . and I know she has her “issues.” Despite all that, I was getting onboard with this idea.

  No doubt, I was weak and vulnerable, but the possibility of quitting my nasty summer job enticed me. And I had no problem with switching schools either. My junior year had been a huge disappointment. And as for close friends, I didn’t have any. As pathetic as it sounded, there was no one I’d regret leaving behind.

  My mom was flying high as she went on and on about how great this would be. “This is the fresh start we both desperately need. We’ll both enjoy a new and improved life.”

  And the more I listened to her, the more I bought into the whole thing. In fact, I didn’t protest a bit. I was in. And really, it was about time our luck changed. According to my mom, her ship had finally come in and we were both getting on it and sailing away.

  So I gave Vernon notice on my job, and two weeks later, I was packing boxes. I even scrubbed and scoured our tiny apartment in hopes of getting our deposit back (which never happened). But as I worked, I imagined my mom and me in our new life. Everything would be all fresh and squeaky clean there — kind of like a Febreze commercial where everything came out smelling sweet.

  “Get rid of anything you don’t like,” Mom told me as I was packing up my room. “As soon as we get to Stanfield, we’ll go on a major shopping spree and get all new stuff. And then before I start my new job, we’ll both get makeovers and new wardrobes and some cool furnishings for the condo. Everything new!”

  “We can afford this, right?” I ventured once more — kind of like a reality check. I mean, really, sometimes it all just seemed too good to be true.

  “I already explained everything to you, Adele.” Her voice took on the sharp edge of impatience. “Mark Edmonds gave me that advance on my salary to help us relocate. He set up the condo for us. We’re covered. Don’t be such a worrywart. Sometimes you’re like an old woman!”

  I nodded and returned to packing. I had actually seen the check her new boss sent — and the amount was impressive. I also went with my mom as she deposited it in the bank. And I was even more impressed when I later discovered the check had cleared at the bank. Thanks to my mom’s “challenges,” I know all about online banking, how to pay bills, and how to tuck away a bit of money for a rainy day. My life’s been filled with a lot of those.

  So knowing that the money was in the bank and my mom’s job was for real, I felt seriously hopeful. And why not? My mom had a good education; she was intelligent and capable of holding down a good job. Not that it had happened for the past several years. But that could change. My mom’s problems had gotten worse after my deadbeat dad walked out. But that was more than six years ago. She was probably over it.

  My mom’s job skills were “valuable” — and I’d heard many times about how she could easily bring home a six-figure salary when the economy turned around. A couple of times she did get hired, but then something would happen . . . and it would unravel. But there was unemployment . . . and other things. However, I wasn’t going there. This time life would be different. And it was different . . . at first anyway.

  “This place looks fabulous,” I told my mom as she pulled into Westwood Heights, a pleasantly arranged complex of three-story buildings nestled into some attractive landscaping, including lots of tall oak trees. Before long we were hauling boxes into our second-floor unit, which was even better than the exterior. With an open floor plan, high ceilings, a gas fireplace, and a stylish kitchen complete with granite and stainless steel, it was a huge improvement over our previous digs. But the best part was the two master suites. Not only did I have a real bedroom now, but I actually had my own bathroom as well!

  Then, true to her word, Mom took us shopping the next week. I felt like a princess as I splurged at stores like Banana Republic and Gap, buying the kinds of clothes I used to just dream about.

  It was late July, and I couldn’t wait for the first day of school to come. I could imagine myself walking in with my head held high
— pretending I was someone else. And from now on I would use my full name. No more being called “Addie.” I was Adele Porter and my senior year was going to rock! It would be totally unlike my previous year, where I went around like a meek little mouse, hoping no one would notice my thrift-store jeans and worn-out shoes. This would be my year to shine. I would join clubs and start planning for college. And I might even make some real friends.

  At least that’s what I tell myself as I ride the transit to Stanfield High on registration day the week before school starts. And whether it’s the power of positive thinking or just plain luck, it seems to be working.

  “Hey, you’re new.” A blonde girl steps behind me in the line for twelfth grade. She’s wearing a pale denim skirt topped with a pink T-shirt. She’s pretty but not flashy, more of a wholesome kind of pretty. And she has a nice smile.

  “Yeah. We just moved here last month.” I suppress the urge to nervously smooth the front of my shirt. After trying several outfits, I decided on this fitted white button-up I’d gotten at Express. “Understated but classic,” the salesgirl assured me. I’d paired this with what were supposedly “the coolest jeans this side of the Mississippi,” some killer Nine West sandals, and a knockoff Prada bag my mom thought was convincing. To say I felt like a million bucks as I walked from the bus stop to the school would not have been an understatement. But for some reason, standing in front of this girl who looks very comfortable in her own skin, I feel totally out of my league and a bit like a counterfeit. Like I’m as genuine as my fake Prada purse.