Bitter Rose

by Melody Carlson

  DISCOVER A UNIQUE NEW KIND

  OF BIBLE STUDY.

  How did Jesus teach many of his most important lessons? He told stories. That’s the idea behind the first series of Bible studies from best-selling fiction author Melody Carlson. In each of the four studies, Melody weaves fictional stories with practical discussion questions to get you thinking about some of the most important topics in life: your relationship with God, your relationship with others, identity, and forgiveness.

  Chapter One

  The latest issue of Lucky is spread out in front of me. I’m checking out the three hot nail colors for fall and thinking I need to pick up a bottle in a gunmetal shade, which, they say, looks better on short nails. Ha! They’re totally selling to us nubbynails. Then Peter walks by. He’s so cute with his blonde buzz and wireframed glasses, even though he is kind of pale. His buff, hockey bod is all exposed in his swimsuit. I catch my breath. My best friend in the world, Lindsey, elbows me.

  “I’m not blind,” I whisper.

  “Are you going to talk to him?” Lindsey asks from beneath her black movie-star shades. Easy for her to ask. She is tiny, tan, and gorgeous, and her hockey player boyfriend is totally into her.

  I have to wear 50 SPF; otherwise I’ll look like a lobster. I have red hair and marshmallow-white skin. I don’t actually tan — I just keep freckling and freckling until I have so many freckles they kind of blend together into a tannish color.

  “Doubtful.” I turn the page, trying to act like it’s no big deal. But I feel all wiggly inside, like a bowl of orange Jell-O with mandarin oranges in it. I’m so pathetic. When Peter talks to me, I’m hypnotized. I do whatever he asks, which at times has been way more than I should do. We messed around a lot last school year. I was so into him — too into him. I don’t know why. Maybe because it feels good to have someone pay attention to me. Maybe because it’s a thrill. I even stayed out with him all night. At one point I thought I was pregnant. The good news: I wasn’t pregnant. The bad news: my parents freaked, and I got grounded for the staying out part (they didn’t know the might-be-pregnant part) for an entire month. When I couldn’t go out for those four eternal weeks, Peter started seeing Elisa, some cutesy gymnast girl, and I wasn’t allowed to try out for the spring play. Total screwup! Risk everything to be with him. Get caught. Get grounded. Lose a role and lose him. Life sucks sometimes.

  “I’m getting in the water,” Melissa says from the end of our row. “I’m melting.” Melissa’s on dance team with Lindsey. She’s really sweet and kind of quiet and definitely naive. She’s always agreeable and never judges any of us, which is a plus, but she’s a little shaky at times.

  “I’m with you, sistergirl,” Raven chimes in. “Let’s go off the board.” Raven moved here from Atlanta two years ago. She plays soccer with Gracie. Gracie is Melissa’s best friend from grade school, and that’s how we all ended up friends. We just kind of landed together, and now we’re inseparable.

  Melissa stands and straightens the straps of her ultraconservative, yellow tank suit.

  Raven turns toward us. “Y’all coming?”

  “I am.” Gracie stands. Her simple black bikini looks striking with her jet black hair and pale olive skin. Her silver ankle bracelet is the only adornment on her elegant body. It looks great on her, but I would never go for that look. The brighter and bolder the better for me. My swimsuit has a leopard top and black bottoms. The band on the bottom is thick enough to cover some of my belly and the top is cut low enough to show some of my cleavage. Play to your assets. I baby-sat my younger brothers and sisters a boatload of hours to pay for it, but it was completely worth it.

  “I’ll be there in a minute.” Lindsey waves them on, pointing to her magazine.

  “Go ahead.” I tilt my head.

  “So, you won’t even talk to him anymore?” Lindsey quizzes me as soon as the rest of the gang heads for the high dive.

  “It’s useless. He likes Elisa.”

  “I heard she’s dating Andrew Metzger.”

  When I was little I used to stick out my tongue whenever something didn’t go my way or whenever I was frustrated. As I’ve matured, I’ve learned to keep my tongue inside my mouth, but I still have the reflex to stick it out. I push my tongue to the place where my braces used to rest on the inside of my bottom row of teeth and push that thought around in my head. Does that mean he’s available?

  “I don’t know what to do with that information. I’d finally accepted the fact he’s with someone else. I don’t know if I can go there.” I stare right into Lindsey’s eyes.

  “I know, sweetie.” Lindsey places her tiny pink fingernails on my hand. “He’s so stupid. C’mon, let’s cool off.”

  Raven’s athletic body arcs from the dive. I see a flash of her tangerine tank and matching board shorts as she splashes into the aqua pool.

  I dive into the water. I need to wash off these Peter feelings.

  Submerging myself in the water is like entering a dark, airconditioned movie theatre in the heat of summer. Everything goes from light to dark, from hot to cold in an instant. I relish the severe change from the blistering world above to this aquatic one, where images are blurred and feelings are numbed. I long to be Ariel and swim off to my secret grotto. I linger below the surface as long as I can, until my lungs force me to come up for air.

  I emerge, keeping my eyes closed as I inhale the thick, sweet air, perfumed with tropical suntan lotions, chlorine, and body heat.

  Ummmmm. I savor the moment.

  Lindsey sits on the edge of the pool. Her pedicured toes dangle in the water, but her petite body stays on land in its itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny, yellow, lime, pink, and black color-blocked bikini.

  Melissa swims over. “I think Beau’s here!” she whispers to us, as if Robert Pattinson had just appeared.

  “He’s your boyfriend, Mel!” Lindsey puts her in line. “Why don’t you grab your towel and go sit with him?”

  Melissa squeezes her eyes tight. “Sure. Why not?” She pauses then squints her mossy green eyes. “I can’t do that!”

  “Sure, you can. I’ll help.” Lindsey looks to me for assistance.

  I look to the clock to escape this ridiculous conversation. Melissa can be such a baby sometimes. She and Beau have been dating almost two years, and she can’t go sit with him? I’d go sit with him, if I found him at all interesting.

  It’s five o’clock!

  “Perfect!” I yell, clearly indicating things are everything but perfect. I was supposed to be home at five o’clock with corn on the cob from the farmer’s market for dinner. One of the drawbacks of being ungrounded from the car: I’m expected to run corny family errands.

  “What’s up?” Lindsey asks. Melissa looks offended by my sarcasm. I pull myself from the clear, cool sanctuary of the water and roll my eyes at her.

  “While you two girls take a daring promenade to the other side of the pool, I’m going to grab my stuff. I’m late, and Mom’s gonna kill me!”

  “Let me walk Mel over there, and I’ll ride home with you.” Lindsey stands.

  “Then you’ve gotta be in high gear,” I call back already halfway to our chairs. Lindsey’s coaching Melissa. She touches her slightly on the arm and appears to be in the most engaging conversation of her life. I shake my head. Lindsey’s incredible. She was born with that knack for seducing men, befriending girls, and getting everyone to be enamored with her. She doesn’t get I’m on the fly.

  I slide on my flip-flops, stuff my towel, magazine, and phone into my tote. I look up, don’t see Lindsey, grab her stuff, and shove it into her bag. I should find Raven and Gracie and say good-bye, but Mom will scream at me as is. I dart toward the entrance, catch Lindsey’s eye on the way, and wave her over to me.

  “Here’s your stuff. I am so in for a screamfest.”

  “Blame it on me.” Lindsey takes her bag and walks with me. “Did you check out with Rav and Gray?”

  “No.” I shake my head and roll my eyes, like a chastised child
.

  “I’ll text them in the car.” She smiles. “Melissa and Beau are so cute. He was giddy she came over to talk to him. He was totally by himself, and like what boy comes to the pool alone right before dinner? He was so looking for her and an excuse to take her home.” Lindsey laughs out loud.

  I half-listen to Lindsey as she gabs on the way to the farmer’s market and then to her house.

  Lindsey checks herself in the visor mirror as I pull into her driveway. “Thanks for the ride, sweetie. See ya tomorrow.” She grins as she crawls out of my hand-me-down Jetta. I roll my eyes at her. She’s so chipper all the time.

  I can’t be all smiley when Peter totally ignored me, and I know Mom’s waiting to ground me.

  I park at the curb, grab my bag of corn, and dash into the house. Everything is oddly quiet for pre-dinnertime in our house. With my five little brothers and sisters, it’s usually pure chaos. I take the corn into the kitchen, cringing with anticipation at Mom’s lecture, but she’s not there. I hear Dad’s phone voice coming from the screened-in porch. I head that way expecting one of my brothers or sisters to pop up like a ghost in a haunted house.

  “No, no, that’s great,” Dad says in a sickeningly sweet tone. “Yeah, I’ll meet you there. I can’t wait.” He speaks with the excitement of a kid, so unlike Dad. He’s usually so rigid and firm, the epitome of the bank employee that he is — always wearing navy suits, speaking in calming tones that could soothe anyone with financial woes. “Oh, and I have a surprise for you.”

  I’m lured in. Who is he talking to? It’s like the surprise sits in a wrapped package on the table in the middle of the porch for me to open. I walk out and for a split second Dad jerks his head. I must have startled him. He instantly returns to his nonchalance. “I have something new dreamed up for us.” He nods at me and clicks shut his phone.

  “Emma, when did you get home?” he asks.

  “Just a second ago.” I glance around for evidence of the surprise. “What’s the surprise?”

  “Surprise?” He looks puzzled. “Oh,” Dad’s dark eyes light up, and he chuckles, “It’s nothing. Just a new game for the twins’ soccer practice tomorrow. We’re going to play a scrimmage with three balls on the field at once. They’ll go crazy trying to figure out who should be where when. That was my assistant coach.”

  I scrunch my eyebrows. That’s not exactly the kind of surprise that gets me excited, but I guess for a dad that would be a thrill.

  “Emma, is that you?” Mom’s irritated voice rubs me like sandpaper.

  “Yeah, out here,” I respond meekly.

  Mom stomps out ready to roar, but Dad taps her on the head with his briefcase and her scowl melts into a smile.

  “Emma was out here running over my coaching strategy. Do you remember when I coached your team, Em? What were we called — the Good and Plentys? Remember those pink and black uniforms?”

  I laugh. “I think we won two games all season.”

  Dad smiles, showing a few too many teeth, and turns to Mom, “And, if it weren’t for your mother, we wouldn’t have even won those two. Remember how you picked up Chloe, our best player, for both of those games, because she didn’t have a ride?”

  “Anything for the world of sports.” Mom laughs, her anger dissolved by Dad’s charm. She eyes me. “Did you get my corn?”

  “Sure. I’ll go husk it.” I dart out, thankful to Dad for miraculously saving me from her wrath. I grab the bag, take it to the front porch, and start pulling rough husks and silky strands from yellow kernels.

  Becca, my five-year-old sister, appears like one of the fairy godmothers she’s infatuated with and asks, “Can I help?”

  “Sure.” I shrug.