by John Coy
“I don’t know.” I couldn’t think of anybody but then got a crazy idea. “I’ll ask Rayne.”
“That won’t work,” Jett said. “Ask someone else.”
“What’s the matter with Rayne?”
“She won’t want to bowl.”
“I’ll let you know.” I set the phone down and wondered why he didn’t want me asking her.
I fell back to sleep, but my phone woke me up again. This time it was a number I didn’t know. “Hello?” I sat up.
“It’s me, Rayne. What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” I was glad to hear her voice but confused why she was calling.
“Meet me at the edge in fifteen minutes.”
“The edge of what?” I got up and opened my shades to the light.
“The Edge Coffee Shop.”
“Oh.” I struggled to think clearly. “Why?”
“To prep for your interview.” She talked quickly. “Do you have a picture of you and Jacob?”
“I think so.”
“Bring it with you. See you in fifteen minutes.”
Fifteen minutes. Not enough time to shower. I scrambled into my bathroom, blasted body spray, and patted down my hair. Then I pictured Rayne’s stuck-out ’do and stopped. Maybe neat hair wasn’t important for this job.
Everything was quiet downstairs. Mom and Dad were already at work and Lansing had left a note saying he and a friend had gone to the science museum.
I burst into Mom’s office, where she had a board full of photos. I picked one of Jacob with our family. It wasn’t exactly right, but it would have to do. I pulled pins from the picture and then remembered another.
In the living room, I opened the drawer where Mom kept my baby scrapbook and found the picture I wanted: me and Jacob as babies holding onto each other in a bubble bath. Mom’s caption said we were both ten months old. The picture was glued down with a sparkly silver border and I couldn’t rip it out, so I put the newer picture inside the scrapbook, shoved it all in my backpack, and biked down to the Edge.
* * *
“HEY,” I said to Rayne, who sat at her usual table eating a muffin. From her look of pleasure, I could tell it was wheat-free. She wore a sleeveless turquoise top that showed off her toned arms.
“For you.” She pushed a plate forward with a blueberry scone on it.
“Thanks.” I took a bite.
“I’ve got to be at work in thirty minutes, and I wanted to prep you for Gail and Stephanie.” Rayne sipped her tea.
“Who are they?”
“Gail’s the program director and Stephanie’s the house supervisor. Gail’s okay. She’s hyper rule-oriented and comes off tougher than she is. She’s got a son with Down syndrome. That’s how she got into the field. The picture of your cousin will help. You’ve got it?”
I lifted the book onto the table and opened it. “Here’s one from when I was a baby.” I was embarrassed about Mom’s over-the-top scrapbooking decorations.
Rayne leaned over and stared at the picture. “Beautiful. He’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
“Thanks.” It felt odd accepting a compliment on how I looked as a baby, but I was happy to take anything from her.
She paged through the pictures of me. “You’re lucky to have this.”
“Yeah.” I’d never thought of Mom’s scrapbooking that way.
“And who do we have here?” Rayne pushed forward the recent picture. “This must be Jacob.”
“Yeah, and my mom, dad, and brother.”
“Tell me about them,” she said.
I talked about how extreme and controlling Dad was and how Mom always backed him up and how Lansing did exactly what they expected. Rayne listened and seemed to absorb everything.
I even told her about them picking my college and what I was going to study and me not going along with it and them being mad and Dad making me pay rent to live at home.
“You had to do it. That’s one of the stupidest things I’ve ever heard.”
“I’m not sure what I want, but I know I don’t want to be a doctor.”
“That’s big. Knowing what you don’t want is the first step in knowing what you do. Some people never get to that point.”
“Yeah, I like that.” I sat back and felt like I was getting credit for what I’d done. “I can’t let them decide my life.”
“Of course not.” She shook her head slowly. “Parents can be the biggest disappointments on the planet.”
I kept talking, like a dam had burst and the water was flooding downstream. “Dad’s angry and Mom’s disappointed and I know they both expect me to change my mind and accept their deal, but I’m not going to. Absolutely not.” I’d never been so honest with anyone about what was going on in my family, and telling her made me feel more confident.
“We’re both not going to college in the fall.” She held out her fist. “We’re gappers together.”
I bumped my fist against hers and smiled.
She glanced at the clock and I waited to hear what else she’d say.
“Independent living.”
“What?” I moved forward.
“That’s the key.”
“The key to what?”
“Independent living is the key to your interview. If you’re ever in doubt about an answer, say independent living, people living as independently as possible. Stephanie’s huge on that. Just remember independent living and be yourself.”
My head was swimming.
“I’ve got to go.” She gathered up her journal and shoved it in her backpack. “Show those pictures right away and fix your bed-head hair.”
I stood and kind of waved as she went out. Rayne was incredible. She knew what to do about everything.
INTERVIEWING
LATER THAT MORNING, I sat in a worn chair facing Lydia’s desk, waiting to be called. My right heel tapped a mile a minute even when I put my hand on the clean khakis I’d worn to make a good impression.
Independent living. Be yourself. Rayne’s advice echoed in my head.
I stared down at the scrapbook. When I was little, I used to ask Mom to go through it because I liked hearing stories about how excited she and Dad were when I was born, but I hadn’t looked at it in years.
I opened to a picture of Mom holding me at the hospital with Dad leaning in, both beaming like the proudest parents in the world. They looked so young, not that much older than me. I couldn’t imagine being a parent.
I paged through pictures of me, Mom, Dad, and later Lansing. Dad’s smile faded as I got bigger. Maybe when I was a baby, he could imagine me the way he wanted, but as I got older, I kept falling short of his expectations.
“Crayton.” Lydia looked up. “Gail and Stephanie are ready for you.”
I closed the scrapbook. Be yourself. What if I wasn’t sure who that was?
Two women stood up in the conference room.
“Hi, I’m Stephanie, the house supervisor at Oakcrest.” She had wavy blond hair and big hoop earrings.
“And I’m Gail,” a woman with square-framed glasses said. “I’m the program director.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Cray.” I sat down across from them.
“Let’s get right to it.” Gail had a no-nonsense manner that suddenly reminded me of my third-grade teacher, Ms. Carling, who complained to Mom that my worksheets were messy. “Why do you want to join the Oakcrest team?”
I was tempted to say because I needed a job, but I followed Rayne’s instructions and pushed the scrapbook forward. I opened to the bubble-bath picture and talked about how close Jacob and I were and how he collected Batman stuff and he’d be Robin and I’d be Batman. I told them I didn’t think of him as having a disability, just different abilities, and Stephanie nodded.
“Why are you applying for the three-month, part-time night position at Oakcrest?” Gail asked.
“Rayne recommended it to me.” I knew I needed to say more. “I’m responsible and think I could do a good job.”
Gai
l frowned. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear.
“What areas of interest do you have in working with our adults?” Stephanie asked.
“Independent living. I think people should live as independently as possible.”
Stephanie glowed like I’d hit the jackpot.
“You recently graduated from high school.” Gail looked down at her paper. “What are your plans for the fall?”
“I want to gain some work experience.”
“What about college?” she asked.
“I’m not going right away.”
“Why not?”
There was no way I was telling her about Dad. “Developing new skills will make my college application stronger.” I was making stuff up and it sounded that way. Then I remembered what Rayne had called it. “I’m taking a gap year.”
“Do you have any questions for us?” Stephanie asked.
Rayne hadn’t mentioned me asking questions, so I thought quickly. Independent living. “How do you help people at Oakcrest become more independent?”
Stephanie talked about a person-centered approach with individual action plans and specific goals. She said everybody in the house had a job, and she listed them. I couldn’t keep it all straight, but I was happy to be listening rather than talking.
“Do you have any other questions?” Gail asked.
“When does the job start?”
“Soon.” Gail straightened the papers in front of her. “We need the position filled, but we have to make sure we choose the right person. If you were selected, when could you begin?”
“Immediately.”
Gail wrote something down on her paper. “We’ll keep you posted.”
“Thank you.” I couldn’t tell how I’d done.
“Thanks, Cray.” Stephanie stood up. She came around the table and shook my hand, but Gail stayed where she was.
I worried I’d made a mistake as I picked up my stuff. “Thank you, Gail.”
“We have your contact info.” She didn’t look up.
* * *
AT HOME, I felt like I’d blown it after being so confident. I wasn’t going to work with Rayne after all. I wondered if Stephanie and Gail had to agree. If they did, then I wasn’t getting hired.
I desperately needed to talk to Rayne and tried to remember where she worked at the university. I changed into shorts and a T-shirt, then grabbed a granola bar from the cupboard and headed over to campus. I called Jett but he didn’t answer. They probably couldn’t have phones on at camp.
The art department. That’s what she’d said. I waited for the traffic to clear and darted across the street. A guy with a full beard and a ponytail sat waiting for the campus bus.
“Do you know where the art department is?”
“One block, take a right, and cross the bridge. New building with dark glass. You can’t miss it.”
“Thanks.” I hurried off. I jumped out of the way of a sprinkler head that popped up and started spraying and wiped my face. My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out. “Hi, Rayne.”
“You got it, Crayster.”
“What?”
“You got the job,” she said excitedly.
“No. You’re kidding.”
“I was just talking to Stephanie about scheduling and she told me. She was impressed by your commitment to independent living. Gail was hesitant, but Stephanie persuaded her to give you a shot.”
“What was Gail’s problem?”
“She’s big on hiring people with degrees. She thinks a staff with lots of college grads is more professional, and she didn’t like that you didn’t have plans for the fall.”
“Join the club. She can talk with my parents about that.”
“Stephanie liked you and that’s what counts. She’s the house supervisor and Gail knows she runs excellent houses.”
It was slowly sinking in that I had a job. “Thanks, Rayne.”
“It’s nothing.”
“No, I really needed this. Thanks.”
“Then you’re welcome.”
“One more question.” I walked faster. “Do you like to bowl?”
“What?”
“Do you want to go bowling tonight?” I climbed the cement steps of the bridge.
“Sure. Bowling’s a blast.”
“Great.” Jett was totally wrong about that.
“Where are you? It sounds windy.”
“I’m on the bridge crossing over to the art department.”
“You’re here now? Come up to room 323.”
LIKE ANY OTHER HOUSE
A JOB, a job, I’ve got a job. The inside of the building was dark after I’d been in the sun, but the AC felt cool. I rode the elevator to the third floor and followed the numbers. I’ve got a job.
I turned the corner and Rayne was waiting with her arms outstretched. “Way to go, Crayster.”
“Thanks.” She gave me a strong hug, not one of those turn-to-the-side or lean-way-forward ones that some girls give.
“They want you to start as soon as you can.”
“Really? You’re not messing with me?” I looked into her brown eyes.
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”
I was so lucky to have met her. She was smart and different and knew how to make things happen.
“Welcome to my world.” She opened a door and led me to a neatly arranged counter. “I’m not supposed to have visitors, but it’s okay this once.”
Nearby tables contained stacks of photographs. Around the room, the walls were lined with framed black-and-white portraits, landscapes, and city scenes. “You like photography?”
“I love it,” she said, “but I also love drawing, design, writing, history, biology, philosophy. When I do go to college, I have to figure out a way to combine it all.”
I noticed a nameplate on her desk: RAYNE MACCRIMMON. I repeated the last name to myself, the one I hadn’t known when Mom asked. A new large-screen Mac, an extra monitor, a high-end scanner, and stacks of files also sat on her desk. Rayne’s job was so different from those of most high school students. So was her night job, my new job.
“I liked Stephanie.” I picked up a rubber band and stretched it.
“She’s the best,” Rayne said. “You’ll learn so much from her.”
“Gail’s not that friendly.” I slipped the band around my wrist.
“Don’t worry. Once you start, you’ll hardly ever see her. Stephanie runs the house.”
I moved around the room, glancing at photographs. “Do you work here by yourself?”
“Yes. I’ve got a supervisor, Professor Murphy, who checks on me. She insists I call her Murph and brings me books she thinks I’ll like. Other than that, I’m on my own. She shows me what needs to be done and I do it.”
“Cool.” I stopped in front of a photograph of two men rolling dice against a brick wall. “I’m glad we’re going bowling tonight.”
“Me too.” Rayne pretended to bowl an imaginary ball.
“I hope it’s okay we’re going with a couple of other people.”
“Who?” She looked concerned.
“Jett and Nora.”
“That seriously sucks.” Rayne shook her head and walked to her desk.
“What?” I was surprised at her sudden mood change.
“Nora and I hate each other.”
“Why?” I’d thought of Rayne as more a peace-and-love person.
“She’s dishonest and uses people. Last fall, she talked about me behind my back, so I confronted her. She accused me of being different just to be different. I asked her what the problem was with that and why it was her business. I quoted John Stuart Mill about eccentricity abounding when strength and character abound, and Nora accused me of showing off.” Rayne picked up a paper clip and bent it. “This from Nora, who’s planned to be valedictorian since sixth grade.”
I knew Nora well enough to know she probably worried that Rayne was smarter than she was. Still, I was surprised to hear they hated each other.
“Since then, I avoid her. She brings people down.”
“It’s just bowling,” I said. “We can be on the same team. Wouldn’t you like to beat her?”
“Maybe. She’s probably a terrible bowler. But I hate being around her.”
My phone buzzed. “Hello.”
“This is Stephanie. I’ve got good news, Cray. We’d like to offer you the Oakcrest job.”
“Great.” I pretended not to know.
Rayne gave me a thumbs-up and started typing away on her keyboard.
“When can you come to the house for an introduction?” Stephanie asked.
“Anytime.”
“I’m here now while everybody is at work. Can you come over?”
“Sure. Where is it?”
She gave me a nearby address. I ended the call and looked over at Rayne. “I’m going to see the house.”
“I know. Stephanie told me earlier.”
“What about bowling?” I looked at her and hoped she could tell how much I wanted her to say yes.
“Okay. Let’s crush ’em.”
* * *
I APPROACHED A BROWN SPLIT-LEVEL HOUSE ON A street lined with oak trees. A new blue Prius sat in the driveway.
I rang the bell and Stephanie greeted me. “Welcome to Oakcrest. I’m so glad you’ll be working with us, Cray.” She handed me a set of keys. “The square one is for the front door, the round one is for the back, and the small one is for the patio door.”
“Thank you.” I climbed the carpeted stairs and admired the wide-open layout of the house.
“I’ve got some forms you need to fill out.” She handed me a folder. “Get them back to me as soon as you can.”
I opened it and noticed the one on top: Criminal Background Check. I’d fill it out later.
“This is the living room,” she said. “Obviously.”
Two dark couches, two matching chairs, and a big TV screen made the room feel comfortable. On one of the chairs, a black cat stretched.
“Who’s this?” I walked over.
“That’s Chimney, the house cat. Kate picked the name, and Chimney sleeps with her, but everybody takes turns feeding him and cleaning out the litter box.”
I reached down, but the cat jumped off and raced out of the room.
“Here’s the house computer.” Stephanie showed me a laptop on the counter. “Individual action plans, med changes, staff logs, everything you need to know.”