Miracle Girls: A Novel

by Anne Dayton

  44

  I’ve been sitting on my foot for so long that it feels like there are ants in my sock, but that’s not enough to make me move. I feel like I’m trapped underwater, and even when I do try to shift my position, my movements are slow and weak. It’s easier to sit here and stare at the linoleum floor. I don’t feel sad, and I don’t feel angry, and I don’t even think I feel scared. Actually, I don’t really feel anything, except numb.

  My mother has been glaring at me from across the emergency room for an hour straight. No doubt she’s making a mental list of people to call to cancel my quince and figuring out how to find the best locksmith in town so that she can lock me away for good.

  Papá keeps bringing everyone fresh cups of terrible coffee from the hospital cafeteria, but I haven’t even looked up to say thanks.

  Mr. McGee paces the floor. He hasn’t stopped moving since the moment he walked in the door. He appears to be unable to sit still. Every time a doctor enters the waiting area, he stops and looks at them in hope, only to be disappointed as they pass straight through the waiting area, attending to something else. It’s heartbreaking to see his face fall again and again. Mrs. McGee is perfectly coiffed and is keeping busy helping Michael with his homework, but neither of them seems very focused on California history. Her voice is strained and tight, and Michael is asking rapid-fire questions about Riley.

  Zoe has been sobbing for an hour straight, Christine left a dozen messages for her dad and has now locked herself in the bathroom, and still I sit here. I feel nothing. No, I feel something. I feel empty. I can’t even find the words to pray. This must be what shock feels like. Or doubt, maybe.

  I hear a noise and look up. Dreamy and Ed rush in, Dreamy’s long ponytail streaming behind her. Ed’s Birkenstocks slap against the linoleum as they run to Zoe and throw their arms around her. Even from here I can see tears glistening in Ed’s eyes, and Dreamy smoothes Zoe’s hair and whispers to her for a long time. Zoe doesn’t lift her arms to return the embrace. I look back at the floor.

  It’s been two long hours. Yesterday, the worst day of my life, is now over, but today looks no better in these small hours of the morning. The doctors haven’t updated us on Riley in ages, and people’s nerves are beginning to fray. I wonder how much longer Mrs. McGee can take it. Her face is pale, there are dark smudges under her eyes, and she can’t stop wringing her hands.

  A dark-haired doctor walks in, and immediately a hush falls over our section of the waiting room. He clears his throat quietly and then motions for the McGees to follow him. They rush to the nurses’ desk, and none of us—not even Mom—can turn our eyes away. Mrs. McGee has her hand over her mouth and Mr. McGee has his arm around her shoulder, as if preparing for her collapse. Michael is unusually quiet and clawing at his mother’s free hand.

  The doctor says something quietly, and Mrs. McGee lets out a small, joyous gasp. She hugs her husband and son. Then the doctor says something more, and they nod. The stifling tension in the room lifts a bit, but still we wait. Finally, he leads the McGees away, and we all look at one another in confusion. Dreamy and Ed whisper quietly with my parents. Zoe keeps her head buried in her mother’s shoulder, and I stay completely still, focusing on the ants in my foot.

  Five minutes later the doctor comes back and sits on the coffee table in the middle of our group. He smiles kindly.

  “The McGees asked me to update all of the friends of the family.”

  Everyone in our group leans in closer. I brace myself. The ants go wild.

  “She has woken up.”

  “Praise the Lord!” Dreamy shouts and throws her arms around the doctor. He pats her on the back in a professional manner, as if he learned all about this in medical school.

  Dreamy lets him go and wipes tears from her eyes. “Please go on. I’m sorry.”

  The doctor smiles again, his white teeth bright against his olive skin. “We’re not entirely in the clear yet, but she is able to respond and she asked for her parents.”

  As I listen to the doctor’s calm, factual tone, I feel like I’m waking up from a long sleep. Suddenly, the pain in my foot is nearly unbearable, and I move it out from underneath me. The sensation of fresh blood pumping into it again is comforting.

  “She’ll need some staples in her skull. She has six broken ribs, some internal bleeding, and a broken arm. But she will most likely make a full recovery.”

  My mom leans over and hugs Dreamy, and if I were more awake, this would probably strike me as odd, but I can’t stop myself from smiling. Riley will be okay. She’s not going to die.

  “Her family suggests that you all go home and get some rest now, and they thank you for your support.” The doctor stands up and smiles again. “Riley McGee is one lucky girl.” He glances at Zoe, and then looks at me, his eyes kind.

  An incredible, oppressive guilt presses down on me again. This is all my fault. I promise God right then and there to never, ever disobey my parents again, no matter how strict they are. I may never go out again, but least I didn’t kill Riley.

  The doctor excuses himself and disappears down a long hallway. Mom hoists the strap of her purse and slides it carefully over her shoulder, then looks at me expectantly. She and Papá walk toward me, and Ed wipes his eyes and gestures toward Zoe to stand up.

  “Christine is still in the bathroom,” Zoe says quietly, shaking her head. Mom glances at Zoe, then up at Dreamy and Ed. Papá looks around slowly, as if realizing for the first time that Christine’s dad isn’t here.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Dreamy says quickly, brushing a wisp of hair away from her face. “We have…I think I know what to say.”

  Mom looks like she might protest for a moment, but then puts her arm around me, almost making me jump. “Okay, then. Thank you. I can’t imagine where her father must be.” Both mothers tsk-tsk under their breaths for a moment. “I’m going to get Ana home now.”

  Papá stands up and hugs Dreamy and shakes Ed’s hand. Mom hugs them both. Zoe and I both stare at the ground. It’s not that I don’t want to hug Zoe. I do. But I’m just, it was just . . . I can’t right now.

  “C’mon, Ana. It’s time to go home,” Mom says with something like tenderness in her voice. I follow her out the door in silence.

  45

  I jump when I hear a knock at my door. I can see muted sunlight coming in around the edges of the curtains. I still feel exhausted. As soon as I got home this morning I passed out. I wouldn’t really call it sleep. I just can’t account for those hours. I was out, gone, completely knocked out. Oblivious. I suddenly wish I could go back to that more than anything.

  “Ana?” Mom’s voice is muffled by my door.

  I blink at the clock. It’s two in the afternoon. I sit up slowly, shaking my head. I guess we’re not going to church today. I need to write Dave. He’ll be worried when we don’t show up.

  “May I come in?” She pushes the door open, and I pull the covers up to my chin. I feel naked, even though I’m in my pajamas. I haven’t had time to think about what she’s going to do to me. I needed to prepare. Why didn’t Papá come too? He’s the reasonable one.

  Mom sits down on the side of my bed. “Zoe’s mom called earlier. Christine’s dad finally showed up and took her home. He rushed back from Sacramento.”

  I nod and wait for her to go on. She clears her throat.

  “Ana, I want to talk about what happened last night.”

  I notice a bump on my arm and start to pick at it.

  “I guess you see now why your father and I have so many rules for you.”

  I bite my lip and continue to scratch at my skin. Mom puts a hand on my arm, and I look up slowly. Her face is pale and there are dark rings under her eyes.

  “What you girls did last night was very risky—”

  Riley’s face flashes into my mind. How could we just let her walk away from us with those guys? Why did we even go to the beach in the first place? What kind of Miracle Girls are we?

  Mom rubs my should
er for a moment, and it almost doesn’t feel awkward.

  “Ana, I know that you have learned a lesson. I hate that you had to learn it this way, but I do hope that now you’ll see just how serious the consequences of lying can be.”

  I nod. “I’m—” My voice is deep from sleep, and I clear my throat. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think anyone would get hurt. She just started climbing, I was too late, she fell—”

  “I know, Ana.” She scoots closer to me and holds out her arms. I watch her for a moment, then lean toward her a bit. She holds me in a hug. I want to pull away, but at least she isn’t watching me anymore, and the scent of her perfume, just noticeable up close, makes me feel safe. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

  Her voice is so earnest and unguarded that I feel a little embarrassed, like I caught her in her nightgown or something.

  Mom pulls back slowly. “But that’s not what I came in here to say.” She takes a deep breath and composes her face.

  Suddenly, I know what she came in here to say. “Mom,” I start before I have to hear her say the words, “I know I don’t deserve a quince now. It’s okay.”

  Mom squints at me. “What?”

  I wipe my nose on the sleeve of my sweatshirt. “I know my quince is canceled. I understand.”

  “Ana, that’s not what I’ve come here to say at all.”

  I look up. Uh-oh. I’m in serious trouble now.

  “I wanted to tell you that Papá and I have been thinking about it, and we learned something last night, too.” She smiles a little bit, though her eyes are far away. “We’ve started to think that maybe we’ve been too hard on you.”

  “What?” I know I’m losing it. She didn’t just say . . .

  “What you did last night was wrong. But once Riley fell, you did the right thing. You showed great courage and honor.”

  I spent all last night in the hospital thinking about what a horrible friend I was because I didn’t stop Riley from falling, and now she’s telling me that I’m honorable? Where’s my real mom?

  “Papá and I want you to feel like you live in a fair household. You shouldn’t have sneaked around and lied. But maybe we made it difficult not to.” I watch her as I consider this. Did they make it difficult not to? Or was I just being selfish? “We want to be tough, even a little strict, but we don’t want to be unreasonable. We want you to do the right thing, live the life that we expect of you, and that will lead to trust, respect, and even some freedom.”

  My heart begins to beat faster. No way. Am I going to get off scot-free?

  Mom crosses her arms across her chest. “But that doesn’t mean that there won’t be a serious punishment for last night.”

  I smile a little. I guess that’s fair.

  “We have discussed it and would like to present you with a compromise.” She waits for my reaction.

  “I have a say in the punishment?”

  She smiles. “You do. We’re going to give this plan a try. It’s what you’ve been asking for, right?”

  “Well, yeah, but . . .”

  “Because of the severity of what you did—lying to us, lying to the other parents—and because one of you was seriously injured, Papá and I think that you should be on probation for a year.”

  I gulp. Did she just say a year?

  “During probation, you can only go to a limited number of pre-approved social events. School events, church functions, chaperoned dances . . .”

  “Okay!” I say, a little too quickly. I can go to dances!

  “But if you are caught lying, telling half-truths, or otherwise skewing the truth even once during this year, you will be grounded for the rest of the year, with no hope for parole.”

  I look down at my covers as my face burns with shame. I do kind of have a lying problem. How did it start? I’m usually a very honest person. It just kind of happened.

  “And then when you’re sixteen years old, you’ll be off probation. That’s when you can have full car and dating privileges.”

  My heart dances. I can’t help but throw my arms around Mom in a huge hug. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  Mom leans back and smiles a little at me. “Now, do you find this deal fair?”

  “Yes!” I almost scream. For a moment I realize that most kids would think this is the world’s worst deal, but at my house, it’s positively lax. “I accept your terms and find them to be quite fair.”

  Mom nods. “Great, I’m happy to hear that. We put a lot of thought and prayer into it.”

  “Okay.” I pull nervously at ends of my wet sleeves.

  “Now get up. It’s the middle of the day,” she says, laughing a bit, but even though I know she’s trying to make a joke, I only feel panic. I just realized something.

  “Mom?” I say, but my voice comes out as a bit of a squeak. I know I need to tell her. It’s not really a big deal, but if honesty is what she wants, I need to confess. I whisper a quick prayer that Mom meant what she said.

  “There is . . . something.” I bite my lip for a moment. She tilts her head a little and her smile fades. “A . . . boy, I guess. A guy I like at church. I don’t think we’re dating but, um, we might be. I’m not sure.”

  Mom’s eyes widen, and she suddenly looks as white as a sheet.

  I start talking quickly, not really knowing what I’m saying. “His name is Dave, and he really loves God, and he’s really kind and funny and nice.” I can feel my cheeks burning. “And I think Papá would really like him. And I just see him at youth group stuff. And—”

  “Ana.” Mom puts her hand on top of mine. “Thank you for telling me.”

  I let out a huge sigh of relief. I thought there was still a chance that she might send me off to a nunnery.

  “This changes things.” She watches me, and her face softens a bit. “You’re too young to date,” she says, and I nod. I knew she felt this way, and though I’m disappointed, I still feel okay. Free, in a way. At least it’s not a secret anymore. “But maybe this boy could come over for dinner sometime.” She forces herself to smile a little. “We’d like to meet him, of course.”

  “He could come over?” I ask. I think I need to hear her say it again, just to believe it.

  She smiles, her eyes a bit watery. “I guess you’re really not a child anymore.”

  I throw my arms around her again and give her a big, full-throttled hug. I haven’t hugged her like this since I was a little girl, and it feels good.

  46

  “Louie, Louie,” I scream, and Riley laughs. She sways carefully to the music while I secretly watch the space behind her, making sure none of my guests accidentally knock into her.

  I have to admit, the backyard looks pretty stunning. The night is clear and warm, and you can just see the ocean past the long slope of the lawn. The patio is decorated with lots of candles and white lights, and the tables under the huge tent spread out across our lawn are covered in white damask and topped with tons of flowers. Mom and Papá’s friends are laughing, and a few of them are even staggering around and slurring their speech, which Christine finds endlessly amusing. Servers are bustling in and out of the crowd, refreshing everyone’s drinks, but as the sun sets on this gorgeous evening, the real action is on the dance floor under the tent.

  Zoe pretends to swim over to us through the crowd and then leans in to sing, “Ay-yi-yi-yi.”

  “This is kind of a weird song,” Christine yells over the loud music, but even she is bopping around a little. The Miracle Girls are my damas, so they’re all wearing matching navy blue dresses. Christine is practically swimming in hers while Zoe’s is stretched tight across her hips. They all look beautiful.

  I pull them into a big group hug, and we keep singing “Louie Louie” at the top of our lungs. Riley is next to me, and I try to be gentle with her.

  We’re only a few days into summer, but after weeks in the hospital and months at home, the doctor gave Riley the okay to come to my party. In two and a half short months, she has made grea
t progress. Her broken ribs are technically mended, but still a bit sore. The staples in her head are gone—which is good because the entire concept sort of creeped me out—and she got the cast off her arm a few weeks ago. She’s still not allowed to surf, run, or do anything too strenuous, but apparently she told the doctor that she absolutely couldn’t miss my quince and he cleared her. I think her mom is still a bit nervous because she lingered at the door when she dropped Riley off, but Riley is practically back to her old self again.

  “Hey, look who’s coming over here,” I yell into Christine’s ear. The DJ has the music turned up so loud that only she can hear, but I see her tense up when she notices that Tyler is walking our way.

  Christine immediately looks at the floor and acts as if she’s trying to disappear, which is kind of hard to do when you have hair as green as a booger. I snort. How can such a bold girl be so afraid of a guy?

  Tyler is so near Christine could almost touch him, but still she doesn’t move. This calls for drastic measures.

  “Oof,” I gasp and pretend to trip on absolutely nothing. I “fall” onto Christine and shove her backwards, directly into Tyler’s arms.

  “Oh, gosh,” I say to Tyler, who looks a little stunned. “I’m such a klutz.” I turn tail and run, leaving Tyler and Christine staring at each other. He’s got to talk to her now.

  I peek back over my shoulder and see her giggling—giggling!—and tucking her hair behind her ears.

  “Dominguez!” I turn quickly and run directly into Dave. Now it’s my turn to blush. “You’re supposed to walk with your head facing forward.”

  “Oh, sorry.” I try to act natural, but my breathing still gets a little off when I look at Dave, and it doesn’t help that he’s absolutely gorgeous tonight. He has just a hint of a tan and his dark eyes are sparkling. His brown polyester suit is slim and tailored, and it pulls across his chest and flares a tiny bit at the ankles. Underneath the jacket, he’s wearing a light yellow shirt and a brown and yellow striped tie. Basically, he looks like a businessman from 1975, and on anyone else it would look ridiculous, but on Dave it works. Works quite well, actually. Everyone else here is wearing plain old gray and black suits, with plain ties, and he stands out like a . . . well, like a guy in a cool retro suit.