Torch Red: Color Me Torn with Bonus Content

by Melody Carlson

  “I think so,” he admits.

  I reach over and rub the back of his neck. “I’m sorry,” I tell him in my most sympathetic voice. “That must’ve been hard.”

  He nods. “Yeah, it’s kind of an ego basher.”

  “But it’s not like it’s your fault,” I say. “She’s the one who didn’t have her head on right.” Then I take it to another level. “I’d never cheat on you.”

  He turns and looks at me as he waits for the light to change. “You wouldn’t?”

  “Of course not.”

  Then he smiles. “You’re one in a million, Zoë.”

  And I feel my heart doing a little meltdown just then, and as if to seal the compliment he leans over and gives me a sweet kiss. We are interrupted by the honking of horns and discover the light’s turned green.

  “Want to go to the game tonight?” he asks as he pulls up in front of my house.

  “Yeah, sure,” I say as I reach for my bag.

  Then he walks me to the door and gives me a longer kiss. “Pick you up a little before eight?”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  I wave goodbye and watch Justin leave, and I’m thinking he’s just about perfect as I go in my house. But to my surprise my parents have on their coats and what appear to be overnight bags sitting by the door.

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  “Dad’s taking us to Pine Tree,” my mom says with a big smile.

  “Us?” I question.

  “Yeah,” Dad glances at his watch. “Get your stuff ready and we’ll pick up something to eat on the way.”

  “But I already have plans,” I tell them.

  “Plans that are better than skiing?”

  “Well . . . ,” I frown. “Skiing sounds great and everything, but I really wanted to go to the game tonight—”

  “Oh, you can go to a game anytime,” my dad assures me. “We’re talking about six inches of new powder, honey.”

  Now I’m struggling. I mean skiing usually sounds great to me, but I’d really like to go to the game with Justin tonight. Still, I know I’m losing this argument. Then I remember something. Now if I can play my cards right. . . . “That does sound good,” I tell them, acting like I really do want to go. “But what about the soup kitchen tomorrow?”

  My mom frowns. “Oh, I forgot all about that. But maybe you can call and excuse yourself this one time.”

  “I don’t know, Mom. They were really shorthanded last weekend, and I’ve heard the flu is still going around. I’d hate to let them down.”

  Dad nods. “That wouldn’t be right.” Then he starts taking off his coat.

  “But that doesn’t mean you can’t go,” I tell them. “I mean look at you guys, you’re all ready and you probably have reservations and everything.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “And besides, you’ve let me stay home alone before,” I remind them.

  “But that was when your sisters were here.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, like last year when it was just Amy and me when you went to that conference. Well, do you want to know who was babysitting who that weekend?”

  Mom frowns. “That’s okay, Zoë, we can guess.” Then she looks at Dad. “Zoë is a level-headed girl,” she says as if I’m not standing right there. “She’s always been dependable and responsible.”

  Dad chews on this for a minute then finally agrees. “All right, I guess it would be okay. We’ll check in with you regularly,” he tells me, “just to make sure you’re okay.”

  “And if anything goes wrong,” says my mom, “just call the Caldwells next door. I already asked Mrs. Caldwell to pick up our paper and keep an eye on things. In fact, I better call her and let her know you’ll be here.”

  “And if you’re not at home,” says Dad, “keep your cell phone on so we can reach you.”

  “Yeah, yeah. And don’t accept candy from strangers and don’t take any—”

  “All right,” my mom cuts me off. “We know you’ll make good decisions and be perfectly fine.”

  Then I hug them both and tell them to have a good time.

  “Oh, I better give you my car keys,” says Mom, “so you can get to the soup kitchen tomorrow.”

  “And maybe the mall?” I ask hopefully.

  “Yes, but that’s all,” she says. “Unless you call me to okay it.”

  “And we may decide to come home tomorrow night,” my dad calls as they go out the door.

  “Okay,” I answer, but I suspect he’s just saying that to keep me on my toes. Whatever. “Have fun!” I yell as I close the door behind them.

  And then they are gone and I’m thinking, this is great! I have the whole house to myself for the entire weekend. Woo-hoo! Oh, it’s not like I’ll throw any wild parties or anything crazy, but it’s pretty cool feeling like an adult, like I can be trusted to take care of myself for a couple of days. This is another one of those perks for being the youngest kid in the family!

  A nervous energy pulses through me as I shower and carefully dress for tonight’s date. Oh, it’s not like I really think anything big is going to happen between Justin and me tonight, but I guess you could say that I’m open. Well, sort of open. I’m not even sure why I’m having this change of attitude. Maybe it’s just this feeling of being on my own, being a grown-up, or even hormones! And, who knows, it could be related to finding Todd and Shawna in the wardrobe room today. I mean as distasteful as it was, I suppose it did get me to thinking again. And I remember how Shawna said having sex was no big deal. Apparently almost everyone thinks it’s no big deal. And maybe they’re right. Maybe it is no big deal. And maybe it’s time for me to really grow up.

  To everyone’s surprise, our basketball team wins in the last seconds of the game, and we are all feeling pretty jazzed as we meet at Chevy’s to celebrate. And I am feeling more festive than usual tonight since my friends (well, other than Emily, who really seems to be in a snit) are treating me just like old times. And then Justin selects a couple of funny old songs on the jukebox and we get up and do one of our Oklahoma! dances, which makes everyone just howl with laughter. It’s like we’re the stars of the show tonight and we’re both just eating it up. I honestly can’t remember when I’ve had so much fun.

  Finally, the place is shutting down and I really wish the party could continue. But everyone is getting on their coats and heading to their cars.

  “That was so great,” I tell Justin as he drives toward my house. “Too bad Chevy’s has to close at eleven.” Now I’m about to tell Justin that my parents aren’t home, and actually invite him to come in and hang for a while. Maybe see what happens between us. I guess I’m feeling a little reckless. But before I can get the words out of my mouth, he speaks.

  “It’s probably a good thing they threw us out,” he says. “I’ve got my SATs in the morning and I should probably get a good night’s rest.”

  “Oh, yeah.” I chuck my romantic plans out the window. What was I thinking anyway?

  “And then Dad plans to drive me over to his alma mater. He thinks if he gives me the grand tour that I’ll get excited about going there.”

  “That should be interesting.”

  “I guess.”

  “When do you get back?” I’m hoping it’ll be in time for us to do something tomorrow night, the last evening of my little bachelor-ette weekend. We could still have some fun.

  “Dad wants to spend the night there,” he informs me. “He’s already arranged to stay with one of his college buddies, who’s a professor there. Part of the brainwashing program, I’m sure.”

  “Oh.” But not wanting to sound like a wet blanket, I add, “But it’s a good opportunity, Justin. It should give you a real idea of what the college and campus are really like.”

  “Yeah, I guess. And my dad thinks I’ll be able to play football there, but I’m not so sure since they’re a pretty big school. But maybe I should check it out.”

  And so that’s it. I gave up a perfectly good ski weekend for one relatively shor
t date with Justin. Although, it was a fun one, I’ll admit. And now all I have to look forward to tomorrow is the soup kitchen. Oh, man!

  When we get to my house, Justin walks me to the door as usual. He stops on the porch for our ritual kiss (rather, make-out session), and I realize that we really don’t have to stand out on the porch in the freezing cold. Before he can kiss me, I pull a key from my purse, quickly unlock the door, and tell him to come in.

  “Huh?” he looks surprised.

  “It’s warmer in here,” I say with a grin. “Besides, my parents aren’t home.”

  So we go inside and stand in the entryway and kiss for a while. Then I finally say, “I know you need to call it an early night.”

  He nods reluctantly. “Yeah.”

  Then I give him a sexy little smile. “Which is too bad since my parents have left me home alone for the entire weekend.”

  I watch with amusement as his eyes grow wide and hopeful, then he just shakes his head and groans. “It figures!”

  Now I laugh. “Hey, it’s okay. I understand. SATs are important. And college is important.”

  “This is so unfair!”

  Now I give him a little push toward the door. “Don’t worry about it, Justin,” I assure him. “We’ll have other times. You just get a good night’s sleep and do your best on that test tomorrow.”

  “How am I supposed to sleep knowing that you’re over here all by yourself?”

  I’m giggling as I continue shoving him toward the door. It’s kind of fun feeling like this wasted weekend’s not my fault. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Yeah, you bet.”

  I open the door and smile.

  “What about next weekend?” he asks hopefully.

  “What about it?” I say. Then I realize by the hungry look in his eyes that he’s probably thinking of more than just a regular date and I quickly say, “I’m pretty sure my parents won’t be going anywhere again.”

  He nods. “Yeah, I figured as much. But what about if you and I have some kind of a special date, Zoë?”

  “What do you mean?” But even as I ask, I think I know.

  He pulls me close again and the cold air from the open door is rushing in now. “We’ve been together for three weeks,” he says in a low voice. “Don’t you think we should do something special to celebrate?” Then he kisses me again.

  “Maybe so,” I answer in a slightly breathless voice.

  He smiles. “Good. Just knowing that will help me to get through this weekend.”

  I nod. “Yeah, me too.”

  And so we finally say good-night and I head to bed feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment. To distract myself, I turn on my TV and watch a couple of old reruns of Friends. Naturally, they are both about sex. Who’s getting it. Who’s not. And, of course, the sympathy definitely lies with the ones who are not. Which, I suppose would be me and Justin tonight. Well, next weekend is only seven days away.

  thirteen

  NATURALLY, I THOUGHT AHEAD TO SET MY ALARM IN TIME TO GET UP FOR my soup kitchen duty. Now I wish I’d forgotten as I drag my weary body out of bed and step into the shower. Sleeping in until nine thirty is better than nothing, but how I miss those Saturdays when I used to sleep in until noon. Well, there’s always tomorrow.

  Things progress as usual at the soup kitchen, but as I help to serve, I find myself watching for that girl who’s about my age. I don’t know if she’ll show up here again, but I’m curious about her. I wonder how it is she’s ended up in a life like this. Finally, just as the last of the line passes through, I spy her standing behind a heavy-set man wearing a plaid woolen shirt over several layers of clothes. Once again, she has on the pink ski parka, only today it looks a little more grimy than last week. And her face looks even sadder. She doesn’t even look up when I greet her.

  “You were almost too late,” I continue talking to her, even though she seems to be ignoring me. “But there’s still plenty.”

  “Huh?” she finally looks up with empty-looking eyes.

  “I was just saying that even though you’re late, there’s still plenty of food. And enough for seconds,” I assure her as I put a heaping pile of spaghetti on her plate. “If you eat fast that is.”

  She sighs. “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.” But her voice is flat and hard and I can tell she doesn’t really want to talk to me.

  “Want an extra piece of garlic bread?” I offer.

  She studies me then nods.

  “It’s really good,” I say. “I snuck some in the kitchen earlier.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Without being obvious, I watch her as she goes to an empty seat in the far corner. She doesn’t speak to anyone. I wonder where she lives and if she has any family. I have so many questions I’d like to ask her, but I suspect it would be rude. Still, I am fascinated by her.

  Soon people begin coming up for seconds and the food is going faster than I expected. I can tell that this girl isn’t going to get any unless she hurries. And then we put the dessert out, which actually looks pretty good today. It’s carrot cake that was donated from a local store and it has real cream-cheese frosting. I know since I sampled a little piece earlier. Okay, I forgot to have breakfast and was hungry today.

  “We don’t muzzle the ox that treads the corn,” said Mavis when she caught me taking a small slice.

  “Huh?” I looked up guiltily.

  “When you work, you should eat,” she told me as if it was perfectly clear.

  “Oh, yeah, thanks.”

  Anyway, I notice that the carrot cake is quickly disappearing too. I suspect some have taken more than one piece. And so I put aside a good-sized chunk and set a paper napkin over it.

  “What’s this?” asks Mavis as she comes out to take in a tray of dirty dishes. I see that she’s pointing at the camouflaged cake. “Don’t tell me you’re saving that for yourself?” She frowns.

  “No,” I say quietly. “It’s for that girl over there. She came in late and didn’t get seconds and I was worried she wouldn’t get—”

  “Good for you, child.” She pats me on the back. “Why don’t you go take it over to her? Maybe visit with her for a while and see if there’s anything we can do to help her.”

  “To help her?” I look curiously at Mavis now. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean she looks too young to be living on the streets, and maybe she’d be interested in some other options.”

  “What other options?”

  “Oh, I don’t know for sure,” she says, “but the church has been known to help people out in the past. Pastor Leon believes that it’s our responsibility to take care of people who can’t take care of themselves.”

  “I’ll go see if she’ll talk to me,” I say as I pick up the cake. “But she doesn’t seem too friendly.”

  “Good thing that you’re friendly enough to make up for that.” Mavis winks at me and gives me a little push.

  The girl doesn’t even look up as I walk toward her. Finally I just tap her on the shoulder. “Hi,” I say in a cheerful voice, “I saved this for you.” Then I sit down across from her. I sense other people looking at me, but I focus my attention on her. “It’s really good,” I tell her as I set the plate in front of her, “real cream-cheese frosting.”

  “You sampled it too?” she asks.

  “Yeah, couldn’t help myself.” I smile. “I forgot to have breakfast.”

  “You and me both,” she says in a slightly sarcastic tone.

  “My name’s Zoë.”

  “I’m Shannon,” she says as she forks into the cake.

  “That’s a pretty name.”

  “It’s supposed to be Irish.”

  “Then it goes with your hair.” She frowns as if that’s an insult. “And I happen to think your hair is gorgeous.”

  She looks up now. “Yeah, you said that last week.”

  “It’s so long.”

  She shrugs. “Can’t afford to go to the salon every week anymore.”


  I suspect she’s jerking my chain again. “I wish I could get mine to grow that long. But I always wimp out and cut it before it does.”

  “I’ve considered trying to sell my hair,” she says.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, a lady told me I could get good money for it. She also told me to keep it hidden when I’m sleeping in case someone else gets the idea of cutting it to sell.”

  I nod and attempt to conceal my shock that someone might cut off your hair while you sleep. “So where do you stay?” I ask.

  “Here and there.” She finishes the last bite and sets her fork on the plate. “The mission only lets you stay for a week at a time. And sometimes they’re full up anyway. But I know my way around. I know a few places.”

  I lean forward now. “Do you ever get scared?” I ask.

  She looks at me like I’m not too bright then says, “I’m always scared.”

  I frown. “That’s too bad.”

  “Why are you asking me all this anyway?” She’s scowling now, like maybe I’ve crossed over some line. “You doing a school paper or something?”

  I shake my head. “I’m just curious. I figured you must be about my age and—”

  “How old are you?”

  “Almost seventeen.”

  “I turned seventeen a few weeks ago.”

  “What about school?” I ask.

  “What about it?”

  “Don’t you go?”

  “I got my GED.”

  I nod. “That’s good. But how about college?”

  That makes her laugh.

  “You seem smart—”

  “Yeah,” she interrupts, “smart enough to get myself knocked up and kicked out of my home.”

  “Oh.”

  “So does that answer your question, Zoë?” Her tone is sharp now, as if I’d only spoken to her like she was some kind of research project.

  “I just wondered if there was anything we could do to help.” I offer. “I mean the church likes to help people and—”

  “And you’re being the good little Christian girl to come out here and give the poor sinner girl a helping hand so that you can look good on Sunday and—”

  “Hey,” I say quickly, “I’m not a good little Christian girl.” I glance around. “Crud, I’m not even a Christian.”