by Amy Clipston
By the time Zander parked in front of his garage, we had a plan of attack for his troublesome Dodge, and he was all smiles, obviously pleased with my suggestions. The brief tension we’d had in the sanctuary seemed to be gone as well.
“I guess I’ll see you at school tomorrow,” he said as we stood in the driveway.
“I’ll be there,” I said. “Thanks for the ride.”
“No, thank you for the help with the car.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” I said with a laugh. “I don’t know if it’ll work.”
“I bet it will.” He grinned. “Good night, Chevy Girl.” “Night, Mr. Mopar.” I smiled as I walked up the path to the deck.
I was still smiling when my dad stuck his head in my room a little while later.
“How was youth group?” he asked, stepping through the doorway.
“Good,” I said, setting my Spanish book down on the window seat. “How was your appointment?”
“Good.” He lowered himself onto the edge of my bed.
“Can you be more specific?” I asked, twirling my pen in my hand.
He rubbed his chin, and I knew he was censoring his thoughts, which irritated me. But I didn’t want to push him too hard and have a repeat of our argument the other night.
“Pastor Keith and I talked about things, and it seemed helpful.”
“Huh.” I frowned at his evasive response. “Things.”
“Yup.” He nodded toward the window. “I saw you got a ride from Zander.”
“Yeah. He and I talked about things.” I gave him a wry smile.
“Touché,” he said with a grin. “Did he finally ask for your help with his car?”
I nodded.
“I figured he would. It would be good for you to help him. I know you miss tinkering in the shop.” “Well, if you let me work for you —”
He held his hand up, shushing me. “Let’s not argue tonight, Emmy. It’s been a long day.” He started for the door. “Don’t stay up too late. You have school tomorrow.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I said. “Good night.”
“Night.” He slipped through the door and then stuck his head back in. “Oh, I forgot to tell you who called me today.”
“Who?” I asked, assuming it was someone from home, like my dad’s best friend, Ross.
“Your grandmother.”
I groaned. I knew what he was going to say next. He’d want to go visit with her and endure endless discussions of Whitney’s perfection in person. He had to be kidding me. I knew she would call eventually. I’d simply been hoping to avoid Grandma until the holidays.
“Now, now, Emily,” he said, going into his father mode. “She’s your only living grandparent.”
I scowled. “Your point?”
“She’s offended we haven’t visited her yet. I told her I have to work Saturday, but she suggested you, Whitney, and Darlene come visit.”
I feigned a cough. “You know, I think I’m coming down with something. It’s probably best I not infect her or the other people in her assisted living facility.”
“Emily Claire,” he began, sounding stern. “It would be nice if you went to see her. She’s dying to see you.”
“Yeah, right.” When his frown deepened, I sighed and waved off his expression. “Fine. Whatever.”
“I told her you’ll stop by as soon as you can with Whitney and Darlene, and I’ll get over there as my work schedule permits.” He tapped the doorframe. “Get some rest.”
“I’ll need it,” I said after he’d disappeared. I was engrossed in my Spanish homework when a knock sounded on the doorframe.
“Hey,” Whitney said. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.” I closed my book, wondering if I was going to get another lecture on how thoughtless I was to run off without permission. “What’s up?”
She stepped through the door clad in pink pajamas. “Sorry for being snippy earlier. I really overreacted, huh? I was just surprised when I came back to the room and you were gone. I’d thought you’d flaked out and gone home with your dad.”
I snorted at her choice of words. “Flaked out, huh?”
“Well, you know.” She gestured widely with her arms. “You always turn down my offers to go out, so I figured you’d snuck off at the first chance you’d gotten. Anyway, I’m sorry.”
I shrugged. “It’s okay.”
She smiled. “You and Zander were getting pretty cozy.”
I frowned, dreading any gossip she may start about him and me. “We’re friends. It’s no biggie.”
“It makes sense.”
“What do you mean?”
“You and Zander being friends,” she said. “It makes perfect sense. I mean, you’re both motorheads so you have tons to talk about. You speak his language.”
“I speak his language?”
“Yeah. Totally. All he talks about are cars. You get him.”
I nodded slowly. She made it sound as if we were aliens from another planet. I did get him. Sorta. But I didn’t get the religion stuff he was so into and probably never would.
“Did you like youth group?” she asked.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
She grinned. “Of course you did. You spent most of the time with Zander, and he’s really cute.”
I wished my cheeks wouldn’t heat up at the mention of his name.
Her smile faded. “But seriously, did you like it, aside from Zander?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “The movie was good.”
“Do you think it may help you cope?”
I shrugged. “I guess.”
“Well, if you ever want to talk …” Her voice trailed off.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to open up to her.
“Well, good night.” She started for the doorway and then stopped. “Would you like to borrow my Bible?”
Whitney read the Bible? I was stunned silent for a moment. “I have my mom’s somewhere. I just haven’t unpacked it yet.”
“If you can’t find it, just let me know. You can always borrow mine. Whenever I’m down, I read the Bible and certain verses help me feel better. It’s not the same for everyone, but maybe some verses will speak to you too.” She leaned on the doorframe. “Are you driving to school with me tomorrow?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I asked with surprise.
“If you and Zander are seeing each other then I figured you’d drive with him.”
I rolled my eyes. “We’re just friends, Whitney. Don’t make more of it than it is, okay?”
She grinned as if she knew a secret that I didn’t. “Sure, sure. Good night.”
I sighed as she disappeared down the hall.
I turned toward the window and spotted Zander out in the garage, sitting on a stool while talking on his cell phone. I wondered if Andrew was on the other line. If he was, then was Zander telling him about me and our plan to fix the car? Would Zander make more of our discussion this evening as Whitney already had?
Probably not.
Another thought hit me. Why was Whitney so worried about me? Had I misread her since the funeral?
Pushing the thought away, I pulled out my journal and turned to a fresh page. I needed to share my feelings with Mom.
Thursday, September
I Dear Mom,
Tonight I went with Whitney to youth group and had a better time than I expected. That might be because I spent the entire evening talking to Zander. He’s really easy to talk to, and I found myself sharing some of my feelings about losing you. The only thing that bugs me about him is that he seems to have a really deep Christian faith, and it’s kind of off-putting. I felt like he was preaching to me at times, and I don’t think he understands my doubts. It was like he couldn’t consider being angry with God or losing his ability to talk to God. If it wasn’t for his witnessing to me, I’d probably be interested in dating him. Which tells you how much I like him. He’s totally gorgeous and really nice. But I can’t get past the religion
issue.
But back to the good part of the night. Zander asked for my help with his car, and I agreed since it will get me out of my room and away from Darlene’s nagging about my appearance and Dad’s comments about the “chip on my shoulder.” But I won’t let Zander use me. I’m too smart to be used again.
Dad is acting strange. He met with the pastor tonight but won’t share what they discussed. I don’t understand his secrecy. I’m missing you too, so why can’t we mourn together?
Whitney also is acting different from what I remember. She was the one who invited me to youth group, and she came to see me earlier to see if I needed to talk. She even offered to loan me her Bible. I wish I could find the comfort she and Zander seem to have. Last night I tried to pray again, and the words just didn’t come.
I wish I could tell God how I’m feeling. How do I find my faith again, Mom? How do I find my ability to pray?
Even worse, what if I never find my way back to God? What will happen to me then?
I closed my journal and packed up my school books. Before stepping over to the bed, I glanced out the window and spotted Zander, still chatting on the phone.
Closing my eyes, I whispered, “God? Are you there?” I held my breath, hoping that I’d suddenly feel God’s presence, but nothing came.
chapter nine
I awoke Saturday to knocking on my bedroom door. “Emily?” Darlene called. “Are you up, dear? It’s nearly ten.”
Groaning, I rolled over and covered my head with my pillow. “Go away,” I grumbled.
The door creaked open. “Emily,” Darlene said. “Rise and shine, dear. Today is going to be a girls’ day out.”
I groaned again.
A hand on my back caused me to sit up with a start. I brushed back my mess of curls and found Darlene dressed and grinning at me.
“Good morning,” she said, her hand on her slight hip. “Get showered and we’ll head out.”
I searched for an excuse not to go, but her all-business expression told me I was stuck. “Where are we going?” I asked.
“Whitney needs a new outfit for Kristin’s party tonight,” she said. “So I thought we’d make a day of it. We’ll get breakfast, go to the mall, and then go see your grandmother. Doesn’t that sound great?”
This can’t be happening. I swallowed another groan and forced a smile. “Sounds fabulous,” I mumbled.
“If we have time,” she continued, counting off the places on her fingers, “we can stop by your dad’s work too.”
Then I can see Zander. The thought popped into my head before I could stop it. I hadn’t talked to him since Thursday night, and I missed him.
“Chop-chop!” Darlene started for the door. “I’d like to be on the road in the next thirty minutes.”
She closed the door, and I flopped back onto my pillow and stared at the ceiling fan above me. My dad had warned me that I might have to go see Grandma today, but I’d hoped he was playing some cruel joke on me.
I dragged myself out of bed and into the shower. Clad in denim shorts and a brown T-shirt with my curls pulled back in a ponytail, I jogged down the stairs and found my aunt and cousin sitting at the kitchen bar waiting for me. Whitney’s eyes were glued on her phone while her fingers flitted over the keys in the middle of a text message.
Darlene was reading the paper and sipping her coffee. She glanced up, her eyes sweeping my attire, and I held my breath, awaiting her criticism. “Ready?” she asked.
No. “Sure.” I shrugged my purse farther up on my shoulder.
“Let’s go, ladies,” Darlene said, placing her coffee cup in the sink. “Whitney, dear, please stop your texting.”
Whitney snapped her phone shut and grinned at me. “Ready for some shopping?”
I forced a smile. “Can’t wait.”
We piled into Darlene’s SUV, and I sat in the back. Whitney spent the entire ride to the Cameronville Toasty Inn giving a play-by-play report of last night’s football game, including everything she and Kristin said to each other, every play Chad made, everything Chad said before and after the game, and everything said about Chad after the game.
While she jabbered on, I stared out the window, trying my best to tune her out and ignore the jealousy surging through me while she shared with her mother. I’d give anything to be able to share my day with mine. I turned my thoughts to my dad, wondering how he was doing at work. Then I pondered Zander, wondering how his day was going at the shop.
Whitney’s football game discussion persisted during breakfast. I picked at my omelet and bacon while she continued on. I was studying my toast when I heard my name.
“Emily? Did you hear me?” Darlene asked.
I looked up at her. “I’m sorry. I was off in my own world. What did you say?”
“I asked if you attended football games at your previous high school.” She lifted her coffee mug to her lips.
I shook my head. “Not often. I think I went once last year.”
“You should come to one of our games,” Whitney said after finishing a text. “I think they’re fun, at least. Maybe you could go with Chelsea.” She lowered her head again then clicked her tongue with disgust. “I hate this stupid phone. Kristin’s is so much easier to text on.”
I shook my head while nibbling on another piece of bacon. Whitney’s priorities were so contrary to mine. A bad texting cell was better than no phone at all. I should know.
“Isn’t it time for an upgrade?” Whitney glanced at her mother.
Darlene sighed. “I don’t know, Whitney. Is it that important?”
“Totally.” Whitney nodded, still texting. “I could get a new phone, and Emily could have one too. That way we can stay in touch and not have a repeat of Thursday night.” Whitney gave me a dramatic wink.
I rolled my eyes and grabbed a piece of toast. “It’s not that important.”
“Whitney has a point,” Darlene said. “We were worried about you Thursday. It’s very inexpensive to add a line to our plan.”
“I don’t expect you to pay for my phone,” I said. “I’ll just get one once Dad and I get back on our feet.”
“Nonsense.” Darlene smiled. “I’m happy to do it for you.”
“Maybe we should check with my dad first.”
“Don’t be silly. You’re father will be fine with it.” Darlene glanced at her watch. “We can stop by the cell phone store on our way to the mall.”
Yay. I turned to Whitney, who was still texting on her “stupid” phone.
I roamed around the cell phone store, glancing at the selections and wondering why there were so many different phones. Some of them looked so complicated I assumed the user would need a degree in electrical engineering to figure the contraptions out.
“Emily!” Whitney called from the other side of the store. “Come help me choose a phone.”
“Good grief,” I mumbled, schlepping over to the counter where she stood examining two identical phones — one pink and one purple. Oh, the choices she had to make were just so difficult.
“Should I get the pink or the purple?” she asked.
I squashed the urge to roll my eyes. “What color does Kristin have?”
“She got the purple.”
“So get the pink.” I glanced around the counter, looking for a low-cost, nonpink, nonpurple phone. I’d want to get one that was plainer than Whitney’s and durable. Something that could withstand being dropped accidentally on the garage floor and would be easy to wipe grease off.
“Did you make a choice?” Darlene asked, sidling up to Whitney.
“Emily thinks this one is best, and I like it too,” Whitney said, lifting the pink phone, examining it further.
“Good.” Darlene called the salesman over, and I disappeared by the accessories, examining the prices and shaking my head with disgust. I then took a seat on a stool by the window and people watched for a while.
“Emily!” Darlene called.
I joined them at the counter, and Darlene held out the
sequined phone.
“What’s this?” I asked.
Darlene smiled triumphantly. “Your new phone.”
I swallowed my shock at being offered Whitney’s castoff. “I really don’t think —”
“Just take it,” Whitney said, looking uncomfortable. She barely looked up from her new phone, texting yet again. Did she ever run out of things to type?
Darlene set the phone into my hand, her smile becoming stiff. “You can change the cover to something less girly.”
“What kind of skin would you like?” the salesman asked.
“Anything but pastel or sequins,” I said.
I walked out of the store with a camouflaged phone. During the ride to the mall, Whitney gave me a detailed lesson on the device, including everything from programming in contacts to changing the ringer to, of course, texting. She programmed her number into the phone and told me to text her. I forced a smiled and told her I would, even though I couldn’t even imagine sending her a message. I did, however, send a quick text to Megan and Chelsea.
I played with the phone while Whitney tried on outfit after outfit at the mall. Since the technician didn’t have to change the SIM card in the phone, all of Whitney’s contacts remained. I scrolled through the numbers, deleting some and also adding some from back home. I stopped when I came to Zander’s home and cell number, and considered sending him a text message. But I stopped, not wanting to come off as a clingy girl by texting him.
“You should go try on some jeans,” Darlene said while we stood outside the dressing room at an overpriced department store. “Cold weather will be here before you know it.”
“That’s okay,” I said, studying the phone. “My jeans from last year still fit.”
Darlene squeezed my arm. “Emily, you’ve had a rough year. You deserve some new clothes. Think of it as an early birthday present.”
I bit my bottom lip, considering my answer. I didn’t want to be her charity case twice in one day.
“Emily, I think you’d look lovely in one of those green sweaters over there.” She nodded toward a rack across from the dressing room. “Green is your color, thanks to those eyes you inherited from your mother.”