Christy Miller Collection, Vol 1

by Robin Jones Gunn

  “The men went to San Marcos to check out the dairy,” Mom said. “I hope everything turns out okay.”

  “Where’s San Marcos?” Christy asked, taking a sip of her mom’s iced tea.

  “I think Bob said it was about an hour and a half drive south of here, toward San Diego.”

  An hour and a half! Christy nearly spit out the tea. “You mean the dairy is more than an hour’s drive from here? I thought it was right around here.”

  “Christy!” Mom looked surprised. “You knew we weren’t going to live here.”

  “I knew we weren’t going to live here, with Bob and Marti, but I thought we were going to live in Newport Beach.”

  Her mother shook her head. “Sometimes, Christina, I think you live in a dream world. You only hear the things you want to hear. We could never afford to live here. If the job works out for your father, Bob has a friend in real estate who will rent us a house in Escondido.”

  Christy couldn’t believe what her mother was telling her. “Where’s Escondido?”

  “Near San Marcos, of course. The house is in the older section of town, and the rent is what we can afford.”

  “Where will I go to school?” Christy had pictured herself starting school next week with at least one of her beach friends in some of her classes. Now the thought of beginning a brand-new school without knowing a single person absolutely horrified her.

  “We’ll figure all that out once we get to Escondido.”

  No! No! No! No! Why can’t we live here? Why didn’t anyone tell me the dairy was so far away?

  Like a complicated machine grinding to a halt, Christy’s thoughts froze. Maybe Dad’s job will fall through, and we’ll have to go back to Wisconsin. Then, without warning, her thoughts spun forward. What am I thinking? I want to live here, not Wisconsin! Mentally, she scrambled to find the “off” switch.

  “I was right!” Marti announced, swishing a letter in the air. “Here it is, Christy. Listen, your mother and I were just about to run some errands. I’ve got to go to Corona del Mar first, then we can browse through a few shops on the way back. Why don’t you hurry and get cleaned up? I need to get to the dry cleaners before four.”

  “I don’t know …” Christy fumbled with the words, knowing how her aunt didn’t like others bucking her plans. “If it’s okay with you, Mom, I’d kind of like to stay here instead.”

  “Why?” Marti demanded.

  “Well, it was a long trip out here, and I’d like to unwind a bit.” The words didn’t even sound like hers. Christy had grabbed frantically for an explanation that would satisfy her “two moms” because she needed some time alone to think.

  “Actually, that sounds sensible, Christy,” Mom said, standing up. “I’m going to run a comb through my hair, Marti. Then I’ll be ready to go.”

  “Why don’t you change, too? We have time.”

  Christy’s mom looked down at her slightly crumpled navy blue cotton skirt and her white cotton blouse. “This is all right, isn’t it?”

  Christy couldn’t believe it! Marti had played the same game with her this summer, but Christy never thought Marti would torture her own sister with the “you don’t look good enough to be seen with me” game.

  “Suit yourself,” Marti said briskly. “I’ll grab my things and pull the car out.”

  “Have fun!” Christy called after them. She knew what their afternoon would be like with Marti at the control panel. She knew it would be an education for her mom. She also knew it probably wouldn’t be fun.

  Stretching out on the vacated lounge chair, Christy slit open the envelope with her thumbnail and pulled out a one-page letter from Alissa.

  Dear Christy,

  I received your letter today and was happy to hear from you. I’m still with Bret. He’s a wonderful guy. Too good for me, really. My grandmother loves him and invites him over constantly. I’m almost afraid to break up with him because my grandmother would miss him too much! Just kidding. Part of your letter intrigued me. You said you’d “given your heart to Jesus” and that you felt that if I would do the same, my life would change.

  What I don’t understand is how you give your heart to someone who’s dead. I believe Jesus was a good man, a good example—like Buddha and Mohammed. But why in the world would you make promises to a man who no longer exists? And how could that possibly change your life?

  I’m not putting you down, Christy. If that’s what you believe, it’s your own choice. But it certainly doesn’t make any sense to me. I can’t understand why you would wish I would make the same choice. Maybe I don’t understand what you mean.

  Please write when you find time.

  Peace,

  Alissa

  Christy leaned forward in the lounge chair, nibbling on her thumbnail, trying to think of how to answer Alissa. Her mind went blank. She felt numb. There was too much going on inside right now for her to think straight about anything.

  “Just give me some time, Alissa,” Christy whispered. “I’ll figure this out.” If only we didn’t have to live in Escondido. If only I could stay here with all my Christian friends. If only—Christy caught herself. Oh, man! It’s just like Leslie said. The Land of If Only. I think she’s right. I’d better stop it before I drive myself crazy.

  Christy pulled herself together and headed for the shower. With each step up the stairs she repeated Leslie’s words: “God is in control. God is in control.” At the top of the stairs she stopped and smiled. “Lord, having You at the control panel is going to be an education for me, isn’t it? I just hope it’s going to be fun.”

  Christy wrote those very words in her diary that night before going to bed. Bob had kept his promise and bought her a diary that day. He gave her the brown, leather-covered book after the whole family had walked along the beach.

  “Try to write in this diary every day, okay?” he prompted her. “Write what you’re feeling, what you’re thinking; write down what happens to you. Write your dreams, write your sorrows. Don’t neglect it. During these next few weeks this little book might become a real friend to you.”

  “Yeah,” Christy had whispered, “it might be my only friend.”

  Escondido, Christy found out from Uncle Bob, means “hidden” or “hiding” in Spanish.

  It fits, Christy thought when the family pulled up in front of the house that would become their new “Home Sweet Home.” This place is so hidden I doubt anybody will ever find me here.

  The house was small with a red tile roof and was tucked between six towering eucalyptus trees. The grass in front, withered and brown, had splotches of tall weeds that were bent and yellowed from the hot September winds. The screen door in front had a big rip in it, and a smashed clay pot lay strewn across the narrow front porch.

  Mom surveyed the pathetic scene and looked as if she might cry.

  “Hank said he’d meet us here at eleven. We’re a little early,” Uncle Bob said, looking at his watch.

  “You suppose this real estate tycoon would be willing to knock off a couple of bucks’ rent if we agree to fix up this place?” Dad asked.

  “Don’t see why not. Let me talk to him,” Bob said.

  Someone in a bright red BMW honked and pulled into the driveway behind Bob’s Mercedes. The car’s door swung open, and a large man in a gray business suit hopped out. “Bobby-boy!” He greeted Christy’s uncle and then quickly, vigorously, shook hands with all of them.

  Christy noticed a girl with long, wavy blond hair sitting in the passenger seat of the BMW. She kept her back to the group of them standing on the dead lawn. A few minutes later Christy noticed that the girl had opened the sunroof so that the loud music from the radio poured out.

  “Come on over and meet my little girl,” the realtor said loudly. They all followed him to the car, where he tapped on the window. The thin, nice-looking girl rolled it down and then lowered the radio’s volume.

  “Brit,” her dad said, “this is the Miller family. That’s Davey over there, and this is Crissy.�
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  “Christy,” she corrected him softly. Nobody, but nobody called her “Crissy.” Ever! Who was this clown, anyway? And what kind of a daughter did he have?

  “Hi,” the girl said with little expression on her face.

  Christy returned the same level of enthusiasm with an equally flat “Hi.”

  “You two get to be real good friends, now,” the man said. “We’ll go on inside. I’ve got the house keys right here, and I’ve got some rental papers for you folks to sign. This used to be a guest house, you know, for that large estate over there. Very historic area, this part of town.”

  They walked off and left Christy standing alone in the bright sun, feeling lost and humiliated.

  The girl in the car turned the radio back up and tilted her seat back so her face was in the shade. She had a narrow face, high cheekbones, and deep gray eyes. Glancing up at Christy, she remained expressionless.

  “Um …” Christy tried to find a starting point. “I don’t think I got your name.”

  “It’s Brittany,” the girl said. “What was yours again?”

  “Christy.”

  Silence hung between them as a hot wind made Christy’s white T-shirt flap, drying some of the perspiration dripping down her back.

  “Is it always hot here like this?” Christy asked.

  “No. Only when we have the Santa Ana winds. Usually the first week of school is the hottest week of the whole year. It’s really dumb. I don’t know why they don’t shut down and let everybody stay home till the end of the month when the weather is cooler.”

  “Where do you go to school?” Christy asked.

  “Kelley High. You’ll go there too. What year are you?”

  “A sophomore,” Christy said.

  “Me too.” Brittany looked a little more interested in Christy. “I wonder if we’ll have any classes together.”

  “I’m not registered yet.”

  “Try to get Health with Ms. Archer. I was T.A. for her class last year. She’s a modern teacher, if you know what I mean.”

  Christy didn’t know what she meant. She didn’t even know what “T.A.” meant. She didn’t want to ask. All she wanted was for Brittany to like her. To accept her. To be her friend.

  That night Christy wrote about Brittany in her diary:

  I think I’ve found my first friend. Her name is Brittany. She reminds me of Alissa in some ways—intriguing and intimidating at the same time. She’s the kind of girl I always think I want to be like, but when I’m around her I feel as though I’m not on the same level.

  I think I’d like to be like her because Brittany seems so mature and experienced. Not clumsy, the way I am.

  Still, I don’t know. I liked having Paula for my best friend because we seemed to be the same in so many ways. At least we used to be. I think I’d like to be more sophisticated, like Brittany.

  The next morning, Christy woke up early. Her room felt unbearably hot. She pushed her window open all the way, and the desert winds fluttered the thin, white curtains. The overly spicy fragrance of eucalyptus filled her room, smelling like the Aqua Velva aftershave her dad wore on special occasions.

  She slipped on a wrinkled pair of shorts and a sleeveless red cotton shirt and then set to work, unpacking the last four moving boxes in her room. By 8:30 everything had been unpacked and arranged the way she liked it.

  Her room didn’t look too bad. It was much smaller than her room on the farm, but the closet was bigger, which meant she had no trouble getting all her clothes in.

  On top of her antique dresser she had arranged all her treasures. The glass-blown Tinkerbell from Disneyland, the ceramic music box with the cable car that moved up and down a little hill, a framed picture of Paula and her from their eighth grade graduation, and, in a Folgers coffee tin, her dozen dried carnations from Todd, which now smelled an awful lot like coffee and not at all like spicy-sweet carnations.

  Christy smoothed back the yellow patchwork quilt on her bed and placed her Winnie the Pooh bear against the pillow.

  “There you go, Pooh,” she said cheerfully. “Your new home. How do you like it? I know,” Christy said, sitting on the bed and taking Pooh into her arms. “I’m pretty scared too. But we’ll make it. You’ll see. God is in control. We just need some friends.”

  Two days later, Christy started her first day at Kelley High. To her relief she and Brittany had algebra together for third period. They also had Ms. Archer’s health class together for fourth period. At lunch, Brittany introduced Christy to two other girls.

  “This is Christy Miller,” Brittany said. “She’s new. Just moved here from Iowa or something.”

  “Wisconsin,” Christy said softly.

  “Wisconsin,” Brittany repeated. “And this is Janelle and Katie Cougar.”

  “Oh, thank you very much!” Katie said in a sarcastic voice. “I suppose I am now labeled for life: ‘Katie, the Kelley High Cougar.’ ”

  Katie, a lively, athletic girl, wore her straight, thin, copper-colored hair in a short, blunt cut so that it swished like an oriental fan every time she moved her head. Her eyes looked like cougar eyes, bright green and flashing.

  “She’s our school mascot,” Brittany explained. Janelle started talking in a breathless, flighty sort of way. “Come on, Katie! Do one of your little cheers for us!”

  “That’s okay, Janelle. I’ll save it for the rally on Friday,” Katie said.

  The three girls joked and talked while Christy silently looked on, eating her peanut butter and honey sandwich. She liked Katie and Janelle instantly.

  Janelle wore her jet black, curly hair loose around her face, which made her look as if she’d just flown in from somewhere exotic. Her bright personality matched her carefree appearance. Christy decided she would try with all her might to be accepted by this group of girls, especially Janelle.

  To Christy’s delight, she and Janelle were in the same Spanish class after lunch. Christy took a seat behind her. Everyone in the class seemed to know Janelle, and Christy felt excited about the idea of being friends with someone so popular.

  It seemed that everything was turning out just right as the week went on. The girls included her in their little lunch group every day, and on Thursday Brittany even complimented Christy on an outfit that her aunt had bought her last summer.

  “It makes you look so thin,” Brittany said.

  Then, Friday at lunch, Christy knew her worries about making friends were over. Janelle announced that she was having some friends over to stay the night and she included Christy in the group of girls she invited. Inwardly Christy congratulated herself and thought how easy it had been to get in with a popular group of girls. Janelle enthusiastically told everyone, “Bring some t.p. with you!”

  “Some what?” Christy asked Brittany.

  “T.p. You know, toilet paper!” Brittany answered.

  “Oh.” Christy looked to the other girls for an indication of what they were talking about.

  Janelle held their attention with her lighthearted giggle. “We’re going to get his house better than last time!” she declared, and all the girls around her went on about some guy named Rick Doyle.

  Oh, well, guess tonight I’ll find out what all this is about.

  That afternoon, Mom was hesitant about letting Christy go to the party until she found out that Brittany would be there. Mom insisted on talking to Janelle’s mother on the phone to make sure the party would be supervised.

  Then, that night, Mom actually walked Christy to the front door to check out the whole situation before completely agreeing that Christy could stay. It was so embarrassing.

  The worst part was when Christy’s mom said, loud enough for some of the other girls to hear, “Now, if you have any problems, Christy, you call me. Even if it’s the middle of the night. Okay?”

  Christy nodded and breathed a sigh of relief when Janelle’s mom said, “They’ll be fine,” and shut the front door.

  I can’t stand being treated like a baby! I hope the
other girls didn’t hear all that, Christy thought. When I’m a mother someday, I will never, ever treat my children that way!

  Christy’s thoughts were interrupted by Janelle’s contagious laugh. “How many did you bring, Christy?”

  “How many what?”

  “Rolls of t.p.”

  Christy was confused, but Brittany interrupted and said, “Look, you guys! I’m ready for Rick’s house!” She pulled two jumbo packs of toilet paper from the center of her sleeping bag.

  “That’s great!” Janelle squealed. “How many did you bring, Christy?”

  Christy meekly pulled her one roll of toilet paper from her overnight bag and said, “I don’t mean to sound really dumb or anything, but what are we going to do with the toilet paper?”

  “Go papering!” Janelle giggled. “Haven’t you ever been papering before?”

  “No.”

  “You only do it to people you like,” Brittany explained. “Like really cute guys.”

  “Like Rick Doyle,” Janelle added.

  Brittany must have read the confused expression on Christy’s face, because she continued her explanation. “See, in the middle of the night we’ll all go to Rick’s house and really quietly string toilet paper in the trees and around his car and around his bedroom window.”

  “Why?” Christy asked.

  Janelle laughed and echoed Christy’s why. “Because … I don’t know! We just do it for fun and try not to get caught.”

  “Sounds like fun.” Christy tried to get her spirits up and bouncy the way everyone else’s seemed to be.

  “Okay, you guys,” Katie called from the crowded living room. “Everybody’s here. Let’s get the games going.”

  They all sat on the floor, and Janelle gave each of them a small piece of paper. She told them to write down their most embarrassing moment without writing their names and then put their folded pieces of paper into the bowl.

  Janelle kept giggling as Christy tried hard to think. Finally she wrote about the time last summer when she was learning to body surf with Alissa, and a huge wave took her under and landed her on the shore, covered with seaweed, in front of Todd and a bunch of his surfer friends.