My heart stopped at the mention of his name. Panic pulsed through my body, and my fists clenched, hard. I should tell Dad. I should tell him now.
“Karl is determined to make the case I’m mediating an either-or,” Dad said. “He’d like to force it into court so that he can win the jury’s affection and convince them to rule in his favor.”
“What’s the argument?” Grant asked.
“My client, Tyler, invented a device with Karl, which tests for a genetic form of cancer that shows up in children. Probably, I should have expected the case to be emotional, because both men had siblings who died of this cancer at young ages. I just didn’t foresee …”
“You couldn’t have known, Matthew.” Mom put her hand on his arm.
Dad ran his hand through his hair and continued. “Tyler would like the device to test children, who already have the gene. Karl is adamant that the test is tailored toward adults, potential parents, to discourage them from having children should the gene be present.”
I stared at my uneaten cupcake, picturing Karl’s face as he’d explained about his sister. If Karl wanted the case to go to court, I didn’t doubt that it would. He wasn’t the backing down kind.
“Karl is likely to push wherever he senses a weak point, and since he showed up here at the house and also followed Sadie and Cindy to the beach the other day, I’d rather not take any chances.”
Dad’s words hung in the air, and I wondered what he meant by chances. What did he think Karl might do? After today, I was pretty sure he didn’t plan to kidnap me, but who knew? If he thought it might help with the case, I wasn’t sure he’d stop at anything.
“Anything else?” Grant asked.
“Mostly, I just want to keep the case as far away from Sadie and Cindy as possible. They’ve been through enough already.”
Grant shook Dad’s hand. “I’ll keep my eyes open. And I’ll plan to be here at nine tomorrow morning.”
After Dad walked Grant to the door, he nearly bounced back to the table, grinning.
“He’ll do, won’t he?”
“He looks like he should be on a swat team,” I said. “What am I supposed to tell the girls? Here’s Grant, he’s my bodyguard?”
Dad winked at me. “You could call him your nanny. Or maybe your manny?”
I felt my eyebrows almost lift off my face. “Dad, that isn’t funny.”
Dad put his hand on my shoulder. “Grant is perfect. It’s only for a little while, I promise.”
“You’re ruining my life.” When I said this, heard my accusation out loud, I realized how much I blamed Dad for everything that was going wrong. If it weren’t for his dumb case, I wouldn’t be in danger in the first place.
“Sadie, you’re overreacting. No one will care if Grant chaperones you for a while.”
Showed how much he knew. I tried to lower my voice, to sound calm and reasonable. “Please, Dad. Don’t do this.”
“Sadie, I promise when this is all over, you’ll get your freedom back. I’m only asking you to be patient for a little while. I don’t think this case will go on for all that long.”
But while I was being patient, my life was becoming a disaster. My friends wouldn’t wait forever. Still, I could see from their faces that nothing I said would make any difference.
Inside my head I ranted and raved and threw a fit while I cleared my plate and took Higgy upstairs. Andrew probably still hadn’t written me, but now I really had to email him. He’d know what to do about Dad hiring a body builder to be my nanny. And I could tell him the truth about what happened today and trust him not to tell anyone else. I waited for my email to load and started typing before I had time to chicken out.
Chapter 8
Jess
Grant drove Mom, Pips, and me to the church in his Hummer, which felt like driving across town in an armored truck. I’d never been so grateful for tinted windows. After I begged and begged, Grant agreed to wait outside while Mom walked us in. I guess he decided nothing bad could happen inside the church.
As we walked into the foyer, I took a deep breath. The church smelled familiar—like lemon polish from Ruth’s church, plus incense like Vivian’s cathedral, mixed with a hint of cinnamon, like the Tree House where we held youth group. It wasn’t always cinnamon, but Doug and Penny, our youth group leaders, always baked something yummy for our meetings.
Inside the sanctuary, a lady who looked about Penny’s age, but nothing like Penny called hello and wound her way through the pews to meet us. Instead of Penny’s spiky, purple hair and funky clothes, she wore jeans, a t-shirt, and flip-flops, and her straight ash-blonde hair looked like she’d never dyed it in her life. Still, the two had a similar feel to them, comfortable, settled, in a way I hoped I’d be someday.
She held out her hand to Mom. “I’m Jess, Mrs. Douglas. Very nice to meet you.” When she turned to me, she grinned. “And Sadie. I’ve heard so much about you.”
She slipped an arm around Pippa’s shoulders and squeezed her tight.
“Pippa told us all about Explorer’s camp, and we’d so appreciate you allowing the girls to help,” Mom said. “It’s an unusual summer for us, and I’d rather the girls didn’t have to sit around home. This way, they can spend time together, and do something helpful besides.”
It had been a long time since Mom had spoken for me; trying to sell me on something I was only half interested in doing. But a tiny part of me loved that Mom was back, doing Mom things, even if they were all the wrong things.
Jess smiled at me, like she could see straight into my mind. “Why don’t you girls come to my office and we can chat. Would you like a cup of coffee, Mrs. Douglas?”
“Call me Cindy,” Mom said. “I may just pop around the corner to the bookstore. Will you be a few minutes?”
“Maybe half an hour,” Jess said. “I’ll show the girls around and give them the low-down.”
Mom pushed through the double doors and followed Grant to the Hummer. Well, there was one good thing about Grant. He’d look out for Mom when Dad and I couldn’t. Whenever Mom went somewhere by herself, I couldn’t help worrying that would be the day she’d push too far and collapse, alone, in a store or a coffee shop.
“She’s looking really healthy,” Jess said, as we followed her back into the office. “Pips and I prayed together for her as she was struggling so much with her health.”
I nodded and found myself talking to Jess before I stopped to consider that she was still a stranger. “She’s been taking new vitamins, but mostly, she’s just not so depressed. I think she was … I don’t know … trying too hard to pretend she was okay. For me. And it wore her out.”
“Well, it sounds like now she’s saving energy, for what she really wants to do,” Jess said. “Like spending time with you.”
As Jess opened her office door, she smiled at Pips. “Pippa, you’re quiet today. Everything all right?”
“Yeah. I guess. Alice and I argued on the phone this morning. She’s upset about Sadie and me doing this camp.”
“Change is always hard,” Jess said. “And no one likes feeling left out, no matter the circumstances.”
“I’m not trying to leave her out.” Pips flopped onto the couch. “I invited her to come too.”
“But you do understand why she feels uncomfortable, too,” Jess reminded Pips gently. “One of the most hurtful things we can do when we have big differences from our friends is to pretend those differences don’t exist. Friendship requires honesty, even when it’s hard.”
Pips groaned and leaned her head back against the cushion. “Why can’t it just be easy?”
Jess laughed, a kind laugh, the type that makes you feel like everything will turn out okay. “Why don’t you sit down too, Sadie.”
I sat by Pips, and Jess sat in an armchair across from us. The desk was against the wall, but this part of the room was almost like a living room. I scanned the bookshelves. Jess had Bibles and a whole section of serious-looking books with leather covers and gold
on their spines. But then she also had two shelves stuffed full of picture books.
“So, what has Pips told you about our kids?” Jess asked.
“Not a lot,” I said. “Just that the camp is for little kids and we’ll be teaching art.”
Jess took out a notebook and flipped it open. “Yep, true on both counts. Our church population has always been a little unique. We’re very close to Stanford hospital, and maybe as much as a fourth of our congregation is made up of families staying in town for a little while—three months, six months, eight months, while a relative receives specialized care.”
She passed the notebook across and I flipped through the pages, which each had a picture of a camper with contact information and some notes. They were all so young. I didn’t know anything about little kids. I’d been around Ruth’s brother and sister, but she was always the one to wipe their drippy noses, or calm them down when they cried.
Pips leaned over my shoulder. “That’s Fritz. He wears a cape every day and insists he can turn invisible whenever he wants.”
“His dad is a physics professor at Stanford,” Jess said. “No sickness in his family, just pure creativity.”
Okay, I had to admit, a kid who wore a cape was kind of cool. I turned the page.
“And Isabel,” Jess said. “She hasn’t spoken to me once since she started attending Sunday school three months ago. I’m hoping camp opens her up a little. Her mom just had a heart transplant and she and her dad live in a studio apartment right down the road.”
Pips touched the next page. “Charlotte’s coming to camp?”
“Yes,” Jess said. “And I’m so glad because it will help distract her while Cici is in quarantine, going through chemo.”
“They’re Tyler’s daughters,” Pippa told me.
“Wait. Tyler’s daughter has cancer?” Last night Dad said Tyler’s sibling died of this cancer, but his daughter too?
“Childhood cancer runs in Tyler’s family,” Jess said. “He’s been through so much.”
“Cici and Charlotte are twins,” Pippa said. “And super close. Sometimes I find Charlotte in the book corner reading out loud, and she tells me Cici is listening.”
Dad must not know that Tyler’s daughter was attending camp. He wanted me as far away from the case as possible, so he’d probably hate this. But Charlotte’s expression drew me in, the way her blue eyes twinkled, like she’d just thought of an idea she couldn’t wait to share.
“Those two girls have such a strong connection,” Jess said. “And ripping them apart has been hard on the whole family.”
We flipped through the rest of the pages, and my confidence swung up and down. One minute, I thought I could be like Vivian, opening a new door for a kid who’d never really drawn anything before. And the next, their stories depressed me. The kids weren’t old enough for these kinds of problems.
“It sounds sad,” Pips said to me, reading the worry on my face. “But you’ll see. The minute you meet them, you’ll see they’re just kids. Wild, crazy kids. You’ll love them.”
“Wild is right.” Jess stood up. “Let me show you the art room.”
We walked down a long hall to a room with lots of windows that overlooked a grove of redwood trees. Tables and chairs to hold about twenty kids filled the space, and counters lined the walls, overflowing with art supplies. More importantly, it smelled like art, like chalk and pastels and paint. In front of the tables, there was a carpet area and a screen.
“That’s a smart board,” Jess said, motioning to the screen. “We have lots of technology here if you want it. You can draw directly on the board, or display artwork, or whatever you like.”
“So we’ll teach art every morning?” Pips asked. “For how long?”
“The kids are with us all day, so there’s no rush, but we should think about their attention span. I think an hour would work, between explaining, making the art, and sharing it,” Jess said.
“What do they do for the rest of camp?” I asked.
“Each afternoon, we throw together an impromptu play to perform for parents just before dismissal.”
I circled the room, looking over the paintbrushes and paper and materials as I listened. Jess went on, “We have chapel each morning with singing and a lesson. And centers too, so the kids have choices — cooking, sewing, reading, outside free play.”
“So, Sades?” Pips asked as we followed Jess out of the art room. “Want to give it a try?”
Pips seemed so comfortable with this, even eager. I’d never seen her around little kids before, so it was strange to see this new part of her. Yet another reminder of how much we had both changed this year.
“What kind of art do you want us to do?” I asked Jess.
“It’s up to you—different projects for each day, or maybe one longer project, or some combination of the two. We have a bookmaking machine, if you decide you want to have the kids make picture books.”
“I’ve never really taught kids before,” I said.
Jess laughed. “Pippa is great with the kids. Between your art skills and Pippa’s charm, you’ll be fine. And I’ll be with you the whole time, helping, so you won’t be on your own.”
No of course not. Because I’d never be on my own again, ever. Now I had Grant. I knew that wasn’t what Jess had meant, but I couldn’t help sighing anyway.
Jess put an arm around Pips and me. “You’ll both be great.”
Something else was bothering me too. “And, um … What about the church thing? Are we supposed to, I don’t know, make art about Bible stories or things like that?”
Pippa groaned. “Now you’re starting to sound like Alice.”
“Hey, Pips,” Jess said. “It’s a fair question. Sadie, I want you to be yourself. Does God ever come up when you draw or paint on your own?”
“Yeah,” I said. “But not because I’m drawing Moses, or anything like that. It’s more like my art helps me see God better. But I’m not sure I could explain the connection to six-year-olds. I can hardly explain it to Pips.”
Pippa rolled her eyes at me. “You should hear her talk about her paintings, Jess.”
“I’d love that,” Jess said. “Sadie, for now, why don’t you and Pippa choose projects that will spark the kids’ creativity. I’ll bet, in the process, moments will arise for you to talk about your own experience with art and God. I’ll pray for those moments to arise, in fact.”
My mouth went dry and my panic must have shown on my face, because Pippa elbowed me and grinned. “Sadie, you’ll be okay.”
I swallowed hard. “Easy for you to say.”
Jess laughed. “The kids are going to love working with you two.”
“So now, all we have to do is come up with a lesson,” Pips said, as we walked into the foyer where Mom waited with Grant.
Jess went still, staring up at him, her expression similar to Mom’s last night. Amazement, shock, and maybe a little fear. He was just so … big.
“Grant, meet Jess,” Mom said. “Grant will be dropping off the girls and picking them up.”
“Uh, okay,” Jess said, still looking up at Grant.
Grant held out his huge hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Jess shook it, smiling weakly. “Nice to meet you too, Grant.”
“How’d it go, girls?” Mom asked as we walked out to the Hummer.
“I’m not sure …” I said.
Pips swatted at me. “Just wait until you meet the kids. We’ll be fine, I promise.”
Maybe. Or maybe if the kids got too out of control, Fritz could teach me his turning-invisible trick. But as I got into the Hummer, my excitement was winning out over my worry. Charlotte’s smile, that full-of-ideas expression, made me want to come up with the perfect project for them. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Chapter 9
The Plan
Bri took the tank top out of Juliet’s hands. “Focus, Juliet. Design camp?”
Juliet snatched it back. “If I’m going to design
camp I need this tank top. I’m not going in ratty old clothes.”
“Sadie and I are skipping out on this one,” Pips said. “But we’ll come to the show on Friday night and do whatever.”
I hadn’t worked up the guts to tell her I didn’t want to be a part of the bullying scheme. And here I was, right in the middle of the planning process. So far, the girls were brainstorming how to make sure Margo didn’t sabotage the competition.
Bri glanced over her shoulder at Grant, who leaned against a nearby wall. “Why, doesn’t the Incredible Hulk want to come to design camp?”
I picked at my fingernail while everyone else laughed.
Bri swatted my shoulder. “Oh, come on, Sadie. I’m only joking. It’s kind of cool to have our own personal superhero.”
Alice motioned us all closer and lowered her voice. “Okay. Just make sure he doesn’t hear us talking about the plan.”
Juliet shook her head. “Alice, you’re so cloak and dagger about this. What’s the big deal?”
“We could get in huge trouble,” Alice said. “You all know that.”
“We’re not doing anything wrong,” Bri said, and then her eyes went wide. “No way.”
“What?” we all asked.
“No way,” she repeated. “Margo.”
We turned to look where she was staring. A super-skinny girl with long blond hair, designer jeans, and too much eyeliner had just walked into the store.
She smirked and sauntered over to us. “You’re not going to buy that tank top, are you, Juliet? Because sleeveless isn’t your style.”
She leaned in to whisper, “Arm flab, you know.”
Juliet’s cheeks flamed and I wanted to punch Margo right then and there. Margo gave us a smooth smile and riffled through the bin of sale jewelry.
“They sell such junk in this store. And then, they put security tags on all of it. Honestly. Like anyone would want to steal it.” She looked pointedly into Bri’s purse and then gave a huge, fake gasp of surprise.
She raised her voice so everyone in the store could hear her next words. “You wouldn’t actually steal those, would you, Brianna?”
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