Allison O'Brian on Her Own, Volume 2

by Melody Carlson

  Andrew studied the paper, then grinned. “Maybe a little.”

  Just then Howie walked up. “I think Allison deserves some congratulations, too. After all, it was her story.”

  “Yeah, great job, Allison,” said Beverly almost as an afterthought, then she turned back to Andrew and continued to bubble about how he should buy a bunch of copies and send them to everyone he knew. Finally, when it seemed the excitement had died down, Allison asked if she could see the paper, too. Beverly handed it to her and walked away.

  Allison sighed in wonder as she read the by-line—by Allison O’Brian, Port View High. How satisfying. She put Beverly and Andrew out of mind. Who cared about romance—she was a published writer in a real newspaper!

  “Pretty nice, eh?” said Howie as he looked over her shoulder.

  “It sure is.” Allison skimmed the article and found only a few words had been changed. “I can hardly believe it, Howie. This is so great!”

  Shirley walked up and scowled down at the paper. “Good grief, Allison, don’t get all soppy about it. It’s only a tiny local newspaper—not the New York Times.” She turned and strutted away.

  Allison was about to spout out a smart answer but then decided not to fall for Shirley’s barbed bait. She would only be sorry.

  “Hey, look at this,” said Howie, pointing to the other front-page news story. “There were two burglaries in Port View this week.”

  “Better keep your doors locked,” said Allison. She watched as Shirley went back to her desk and sat down.

  “The reason she’s in such a snit,” whispered Howie, “is because I told her that next week she doesn’t get a column. She has to come up with a news story instead. That way she can practice sticking to the facts. It’s sort of like probation.”

  “That’s a good idea,” said Allison. She continued skimming her article.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to bask in your glory,” laughed Howie. “Go ahead and keep that copy. It’s an extra.”

  “Thanks, Howie. Maybe I’ll send it to my mother.”

  “Yeah, I bet she’d like that.”

  Allison finished reading her reprinted story in the newspaper, then looked back at her own blank piece of paper still waiting expectantly in the typewriter. Her story about the emergency plane landing was a hard act to follow, but she’d been lucky to come up with the story about Kevin in prison camp. Now what could she write about? That kind of excitement didn’t happen every day. At least not around here.

  “Hey, does anybody want to go to the basketball game with me tomorrow night?” asked Andrew. “It’s in Shelton, but I’ve got to cover it, so I’d be glad to have company.” He looked at Allison, and she was about to open her mouth to say yes.

  “I’d love to ride with you,” Beverly said quickly. She stepped up and put a possessive hand on his arm. “After all, didn’t I read something in today’s paper about you and me? We better give them something more to talk about.” Beverly glanced at Shirley and laughed loudly.

  Allison watched as Andrew’s cheeks took on a deeper shade of pink. He seemed slightly embarrassed but not necessarily bothered by Beverly’s insinuation. It was probably all true. Now Allison had absolutely no desire to go to the ball game. It was one thing to get over Andrew, but it was another thing to sit in the same car and witness Beverly turning on the charm. To make matters worse, Shirley stepped up and announced that she’d like a ride, too. What an interesting threesome that would be.

  “And if you have enough room, Andrew,” said Howie, “I’d like to come, too.”

  “Sure, why not,” said Andrew. “How about you, Allison?”

  Allison stared at him as he smiled down upon her. A hard lump had begun to grow in her throat. She must get over him, and soon. She knew he was just being polite, or maybe he hoped to use Dad’s car if she came along, but it was time for her to take a stand and to be strong. This childish crush on Andrew was not going to rule her life.

  “No. Thanks anyway, Andrew. I think I’d rather stay home tomorrow night.”

  He blinked in surprise. “You’re sure?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I need to decide what I’m going to do about Marsha. If I go down there, I’ll have a lot to get done next week. I haven’t even started my story for the paper, and I have a mountain of homework.”

  “That’s right,” said Andrew. “There’s only one more week of school before Christmas vacation. Fall term has gone by so quickly.”

  “Yes,” agreed Beverly. “I can hardly believe that next Friday is the Christmas dance. Everything just happens so fast.”

  Allison turned her attention back to the Port View Herald, hoping to regain that initial sense of satisfaction when she’d first seen her name in print. Yet it seemed that everything around her was trying to overshadow this accomplishment. Now, if only she could think of a good story. She glanced up at the clock. Less than an hour before Howie would lock up the room, and she still didn’t have a single idea. Maybe she could try to make a brainstorm list. Then she could go over it later and see if anything had potential. She had half a page of ideas, mostly silly ones, when it was time to go.

  On the way home, Allison told Heather about the local newspaper running her story. Then Heather told them how many kids had come up to Caroline with promises to pray for Kevin.

  “That’s great,” said Allison. “Now maybe Sam will run that story, too, and everyone in Port View will be praying.”

  Heather chattered for a while about how excited Caroline had been about getting to attend the dance with Tommy and how she and her mom would probably go dress shopping this weekend. But before long Heather grew quiet. Allison wondered if Heather sensed there was a problem between Andrew and Allison. But then again, Andrew didn’t really have a problem—it was Allison who was hurting. She glanced at Andrew. As usual he seemed focused on the road. Maybe his brow was slightly creased, but it was foggy and dark out, and Andrew was always a very conscientious driver.

  The next morning passed uneventfully. The main talk around school was tonight’s basketball game and the Christmas dance next week. By now, many couples had decided to go to the dance, and the decorating committee was looking for more volunteers. Allison hadn’t been eating lunch with Karen’s crowd lately. She needed to keep a little distance from Beverly right now, and it was quiet and peaceful to eat with Heather and Caroline. But that was before Shirley arrived.

  “Hi, Allison,” said Shirley a bit too cheerfully. “How are you doing?”

  Allison looked up at Shirley with skeptical caution. “I’m okay.”

  “Can I join you?”

  “It’s a free country, Shirley.” Allison knew it wasn’t a very gracious thing to say, but she wasn’t in the mood for any of Shirley’s pranks right now.

  Shirley frowned but sat down anyway. “You’re not being very friendly, Allison. I just wanted to see if you’d made up your mind about going to your mother’s.”

  “Why?” Allison turned and stared at Shirley. “Did you want to write a story about it?”

  Shirley laughed. “No, silly. I was just curious. And by the way, Howie told me that I shouldn’t have said that you and he were romantically involved in my column. I’m sorry.”

  Allison blinked in surprise. She almost pinched herself to see if this was real . . . Shirley saying she was sorry? “It’s okay, I guess. Just be more careful next time.”

  “So I assume that means you’re not.”

  “Not what?”

  “Romantically involved with Howie.” Shirley spoke slowly, as if her meaning should’ve been obvious in the first place.

  Allison sighed. “Howie and I are good friends. That’s all.”

  “Good,” said Shirley with a sly smile. Then as quickly as she came, she stood and walked away.

  Allison was glad when the school day ended. She and Heather rode home with Dad, since Andrew was taking the others to the game. Dad went inside Grace’s house to discuss some wedding plans and then decided to stay and visit longer.r />
  “I think I’ll walk on home,” said Allison. “I haven’t been on the beach lately.”

  “See you at home, then,” said Dad.

  “Do you want to come, Heather?” asked Allison.

  “I’ll pass,” said Heather. “I think I might be coming down with a cold.”

  “I’ll tell Muriel to make you some of her famous chicken soup,” teased Allison as she went outside.

  The wind was blowing on the beach, but Allison didn’t mind. She breathed deeply of the fresh sea air, willing it to wash away her troubles and worries. They were really so small. Especially compared to things like Caroline’s brother locked up in icy Siberia. Once again, Allison prayed for him. She prayed that he was safe and warm and fed, and also that he’d soon be home. Then she sat on a large rock and looked out across the gray-blue sea. It was rougher than usual today, with breakers reaching high, then crumbling into white foam. But it was not as wild as she’d seen the Atlantic in times past.

  For a brief moment she experienced a small pang—of what? Homesickness for the East Coast? Of course there were things she missed about the East. Like Nanny Jane, or some of her old friends at Oakmont. But Nanny Jane was long gone, and Allison kept in touch with only a couple of school chums. Allison wondered if she might be missing Marsha.

  A sea gull swooped down and screeched, and then its lonely cry was blown away by the wind. Allison felt a rush of guilt—she needed to decide about Marsha, today if possible. It was unfair to keep everyone hanging like this. Only a few minutes ago she had noticed Grace working on Allison’s bridesmaid dress, frantically trying to finish it just in case Allison left.

  Allison closed her eyes and asked God to show her the right thing to do. Suddenly, she imagined Marsha sad and alone at Christmas with not a single family member around. Dad had mentioned that even Lola would be off to visit a brother in San Jose. Allison knew in her heart she would rather be with Dad in Oregon, experiencing for the first time a big, loving family, celebrating Christmas together. But there would be other times. Allison could afford to give up one. It was really a small sacrifice on her part, and it would mean so much to Marsha. It was decided. She was going. She took a deep breath and sighed. Now she needed to tell Marsha the good news. She raced up the beach and climbed the steps to the house, dashing straight for the phone in the library. By the time the call finally went through and Marsha answered, Allison was just barely catching her breath again.

  “Hello, Marsha,” she gasped.

  “Hello?” said Marsha on the other end of the line. “Is that you, Allison? Are you okay?”

  “Yes, it’s me, Marsha.” Allison giggled. “Sorry about that. I just came in from the beach—I was running. But I wanted to call you—”

  “I’m so glad you did, darling,” interrupted Marsha. “I was just about to call your father.”

  “Dad?”

  “Yes, I’ve just had the most wonderful news, and I wanted to tell him—”

  “Hang on, Marsha,” said Allison just as her father walked into the library. “He happens to be right here.” She motioned him over to the phone. “It’s Marsha, Dad, and she wants to talk to you.” Allison handed the receiver away and stepped back from the desk. She tried not to show that her feelings were hurt. It seemed Marsha was more eager to talk to her ex-husband than to her daughter.

  “Yes, Marsha, I just stepped in this moment.” He paused and looked at Allison curiously. “You don’t say! Rio de Janeiro—that’s in Brazil, right? How exciting for you, Marsha!”

  Allison felt like she was eavesdropping and decided to leave until the conversation was done. She could call Marsha later and tell her the good news about coming. In the meantime, she had plenty to do to get ready before her trip. She expected she’d be leaving next weekend. Dad had mentioned flying her over to Portland, and then she could go by train—safer this time of year. But that didn’t leave a lot of time for everything she wanted to get done. It was a good thing she had decided not to go to the basketball game tonight. She hurried upstairs and began to get busy. She had several unfinished homemade Christmas presents to complete, a science project, and a writing assignment for English, not to mention her newspaper story. She decided to sit down at her desk and make a list. Just when she finished it, she heard a knock at the door.

  “Yoo-hoo?” her dad called. “Anyone home?”

  “Come in, Dad.”

  “Marsha said that you were the one who called, Allison,” said James. “She thought maybe you had something to tell her, and she was worried that she had cut you off.”

  “It’s okay. I can call her back. I wanted to let her know that I’ve decided to go down there after all.”

  Dad’s brows lifted in surprise. “You did?”

  Allison nodded. “I prayed about it, and it seemed like the right thing to do.”

  He frowned. “I see . . .”

  “Not that I didn’t want to be here with you, Dad. I just felt sorry for Marsha—you know, all alone on Christmas . . .”

  “Oh.” Dad’s face brightened a little. “Well, that was very thoughtful of you, Allison, but it seems that’s no longer a problem.”

  “Is Stanley coming back?”

  “No, but Marsha’s current film is being moved to location. She said that originally they didn’t have the budget for it and were going to just shoot the foreign scenes using sets at the studio lot. But apparently something has changed, and she is going to Rio on the twenty-second.”

  “Rio?”

  “Rio de Janeiro in Brazil. Marsha says that Latin American films are all the rage right now. But the important thing is that means you can stay home with us, and you don’t need to feel the least bit guilty!” Dad grinned.

  Allison forced a smile. It’s not that she wasn’t glad to stay home, but it felt like someone had just knocked the wind out of her sails. “That’s great, Dad.”

  “Marsha is just thrilled about the whole thing. She thinks this is the studio’s way of saying that they still believe in the old girl.”

  “That’s nice.” Allison folded her list in half and stood up. “She has been pretty worried about getting replaced by some of the up-and-coming younger starlets.”

  “It sounds like she doesn’t need to worry, at least for now.” James looked at his watch. “I better get cleaned up. I promised to take Grace out for dinner tonight. Do you mind? I arranged it earlier this week when I thought you would be going to the basketball game with Andrew.”

  “No, I’m fine, Dad. I’ve got plenty to keep me busy.”

  “Good girl. And I had told Muriel to take the night off—she had a baby shower to attend—but when she heard you would be home, she left a nice plate of dinner on the back of the stove.”

  “Sounds good.” Allison waved her hand at him. “Now, off with you, Dad. It’s not smart to keep a lady waiting.”

  She closed the door to her bedroom and turned on her radio, and the little orange light on the dial glowed warmly. She tuned in the station, then lay down across her bed and listened as Frank Sinatra crooned a sweet love song that had been popular during the war. It was a pretty song, but it made her feel lonely. She considered asking Dad to drop her at Heather’s but remembered that Heather hadn’t been feeling so hot. Well, it seemed that she was on her own tonight.

  She thought about Marsha going to Rio. Of course, she was relieved. The idea of spending Christmas in Tinseltown had not been appealing—she had only decided out of pity for Marsha. Now it was no longer necessary. Allison should be happy.

  She thought about Andrew and the others on their way to the basketball game right now. Was Beverly sitting next to him, the four of them crammed cozily into the cab of the jalopy? Was the radio on? Were they also listening to Frank Sinatra? Allison sat up and fiercely shook her head. She didn’t need to dwell on such things. The Christmas dance. Allison wouldn’t admit to anyone, hardly even to herself, but she would love to go to that dance. The Harvest Ball had been such great fun . . . but there would be other
dances. Suddenly, Allison remembered what Susan Taylor had said in P.E. about the decorating committee. They needed more help, and anyone who volunteered would get to go to the dance—it didn’t matter if they had a date or not. Maybe she should look into that. It would be such fun to see Caroline all dressed up! And now that Allison wasn’t going to Marsha’s, she had more time for things like this. But what if she had to watch Andrew dancing cheek-to-cheek with Beverly? Allison stood up and looked in the mirror, giving herself a little pep talk.

  “Get over it! Quit feeling sorry for yourself. Put on a sunny face. There are lots of fish in the sea.” That one made her laugh, and she made a fish face in the mirror. “Besides, you dope, you’re too young to mope around for some stupid boy.” Feeling much better, she ran downstairs to see what Muriel had left for dinner.

  Later that evening, Allison snuggled into the window seat in the library and worked on her English paper—a creative writing assignment. Just when she reached a pivotal spot in her story—should the heroine die while saving her true love, or should she just nearly die—Allison thought she saw a glimmer of light out of the corner of her eye. She peered out the window, but there was too much light reflecting off the glass to see much more than the slow-moving beam from the lighthouse. She reached over and turned off her reading lamp, darkening the room so she could see better, then peered out the window again. She watched for nearly an hour but didn’t see anything. Perhaps it had been only her imagination. She turned on the reading lamp and finished her story—deciding her heroine could still save her true love without having to die in the process.

  “Do you want to work at the airport with me this morning?” Dad asked Allison after breakfast.

  “Sure,” agreed Allison. “But let me run and get my book bag. Then I can do homework if things get slow in the office.” She dashed upstairs and quickly returned with her book bag and coat.