Anything but Normal

by Melody Carlson

  The truth was, Sophie did envy Carrie Anne sometimes, but she’d never admit it to anyone. Except to God, and lately she wasn’t even too sure about that. Still, it wasn’t always easy being best friends with the pastor’s daughter. Not because Pastor Vincent watched every step they took or acted like Big Brother or anything weird or controlling like that. The hardest part was that Carrie Anne’s family was so normal, so happy, so nicely connected. They actually had family devotions before dinner every evening. Well, any night when they were all gathered around the table together. And even if it was only half the time, it was twice as often as Sophie’s family. Meaning that Sophie’s family ate dinner together only on holidays, on birthdays, or by accident.

  “Why are you being so quiet?” Carrie Anne turned onto the road that led to the lake.

  “Just thinking.”

  “Can you believe school starts tomorrow?” Carrie Anne groaned loudly. “And don’t tell me you’re happy about it or I’ll puke.”

  It was a well-established fact that Carrie Anne tolerated school whereas Sophie actually loved it. “It is our senior year,” Sophie reminded her. “Something we’ve been looking forward to for like forever. I’d think you’d be glad too.”

  “Well, I’m sort of okay about that part, except that now all my parents are talking about is college. Make that arguing.”

  “Arguing?” Sophie couldn’t imagine Carrie Anne’s parents arguing about anything.

  “Yeah, that’s probably an overstatement. Mom wants me to live at home and go to the community college.” She laughed. “Actually, she thinks I’ll be lucky to get in there. But Dad wants me to go to his alma mater.”

  “Bible college?”

  “Yeah.” Carrie Anne frowned.

  “What do you want?”

  “Freedom!” She threw her head back and let out a whoop. “Meaning you don’t want to go to college at all?”

  “Meaning I don’t want to think about it right now. But Mom’s probably right. I should probably go to community college. My grade-point average isn’t exactly stellar.”

  Sophie knew that was an understatement.

  “But Dad keeps acting like he’s going to pull some strings for Bible college.” Carrie Anne glanced nervously at Sophie. “In fact, he’s been mentioning you. He’s pretty sure you can get a scholarship there.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. You make me so jealous sometimes. You’ve always been such a little brainiac.”

  “You could work harder to get your grades up, Carrie Anne.”

  “That’s what Dad keeps telling me. He was trying to motivate me with the idea that we could be roommates in college, like it’s going to be so fun and great. I think he plans to have a little talk with you soon.”

  Sophie blinked. “A talk? With me?”

  “You know, to encourage you to help me get my grades up, to take my education seriously. You’re the good influence, remember?”

  Sophie turned away from Carrie Anne, biting her lip as she watched the pine trees zip past, blending into a blur of green.

  “So, anyway, don’t act too shocked if Dad asks you to take me by the hand and lead me to the college promised land.” Suddenly Carrie Anne was singing that last line, belting it out like she thought she was the next Miley Cyrus or something.

  Sophie couldn’t help but laugh. “Maybe you should skip college and head straight to Nashville.”

  “I am rather musical, don’tcha think?”

  “That depends on how you define musical.”

  “I define musical as Dylan Morris.” Carrie Anne pretended to swoon. “So did he perform at camp? Did you ever hear him sing?”

  Sophie coughed. “I think I just swallowed a bug.”

  “Nasty!” Carrie Anne made a face. “I have gum in my bag.” Sophie grabbed the bag and focused her attention on fishing out a rumpled pack of gum.

  “So, did he?”

  “Huh?” Sophie shoved a piece of fruit-flavored gum in her mouth and frowned. “What?”

  “Did Dylan perform at Camp Calderwood?”

  “Oh.” Sophie nodded. “Yeah. He was part of the worship team. And he did a few solos too.”

  “So was he dreamy or not?”

  Sophie just shrugged again. She realized she’d been shrugging a lot the past few days. Especially whenever Carrie Anne mentioned Dylan. She needed to be more careful.

  “You’ve been acting so weird lately, Sophie.” Carrie Anne glanced her way. “You sure you’re okay?”

  Sophie thought for a long moment. “No, actually, I’m not okay.”

  “What?” Carrie Anne looked a little worried.

  “I’ve been meaning to tell you something . . .” Sophie sighed. “You see, the mother ship landed in my backyard last week, and three purple aliens pulled me out of bed and took me aboard and—”

  “Very funny.” Carrie Anne scowled. “I was trying to be serious.”

  “Well, then don’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because . . . ,” Sophie threw her head back and let out a loud whoop just like Carrie Anne’s, “. . . this is our last day of freedom, and I think we should enjoy it!”

  “Woo-hoo!” Carrie Anne nodded, then reached down and turned on the radio, which was tuned to the oldies rock station, her dad’s favorite. She cranked it up, and the two of them rocked out as she drove down the gravel road toward the lake.

  At least Sophie pretended to be rocking out. It was easier than having a real conversation . . . and much easier than talking about Dylan. And it was better than totally freaking over whether or not he’d be at the lake. Although the truth was, she was freaking. What would she say to him if he was there? How would she act toward him? Nonchalant and slightly oblivious? Casually friendly but somewhat distant? Downright chilly and cold?

  Dylan had promised to call her when they got back home from camp. But he hadn’t called. Not once. And she’d checked both the landline at home and her cell—numerous times. It was obvious that he’d forgotten all about her. That he didn’t really care. That what they’d had meant nothing to him. And that hurt. A lot.

  If Carrie Anne didn’t still have such a ridiculous crush on Dylan, Sophie would talk to her about this whole thing. But as it was, Sophie didn’t dare mention a thing. She couldn’t imagine how Carrie Anne would react. In fact, she didn’t want to know. Maybe it was a relief that Dylan was dumping her after all—make that he’d already dumped her but just hadn’t bothered to send her the memo. Oh, why had she come up here today?

  “It looks busy up here,” Carrie Anne said as she turned into the first parking area. “Good thing Dylan and his folks came up last week.”

  “Last week?” Sophie’s voice came out sounding like a mouse squeak.

  “Yeah. The Morrises have been camping up here for about a week. My mom said it was kind of their last family thing before Dylan heads off to college.”

  Sophie felt a sudden jolt of hope. “Do cell phones work up here?”

  Carrie Anne shrugged as she snagged a skinny parking spot, neatly wedging the Jeep between an SUV and a tree trunk. “I don’t know. Do you need to call someone?”

  Sophie smiled faintly. “Not really . . . I just wondered.” She grabbed up her bag, digging around until she found her lip gloss and a hairbrush.

  “Primping?” Carrie Anne peered curiously at Sophie.

  Sophie felt her cheeks grow warm. “Hey, you’re the one who’s always nagging me to care about my appearance.”

  Carrie Anne chuckled. “And I always figured when that happened, I’d start to care about my grades.”

  “Maybe we’re changing places, kind of like that old movie— Freaky Friday.”

  “No way.” Carrie Anne pulled out her makeup pouch. Tilting the rearview mirror her direction, she quickly made sure she was looking good. “I’m not ready to trade in my looks for brains just yet.”

  Sophie tried not to take that as an insult, but as they got out of the car, she knew what Carrie Anne meant
. She wasn’t being mean, just honest. And really, Sophie told herself, wouldn’t she rather be smart than beautiful? Wasn’t that one of the very things that Dylan had said attracted him to her in the first place? Her mind? Her spirit? And her commitment to God? Sophie pulled out her cell phone as they walked down the grassy slope toward the dock area. No connectivity. So . . . what if all this time Dylan had really wanted to call her but just couldn’t use his cell phone out here? What if she’d blown this whole thing out of proportion for nothing? Poor Dylan had been stuck out here at the lake, and she’d been stuck in town—separated by their families and by the lack of cell phone service. Kind of like Romeo and Juliet. Okay, not quite that dramatic, but it sounded good. Anyway, it was entirely possible that Dylan was sitting down there on the dock right now, pining away and just waiting for her to make her appearance and to make his day.

  She imagined Dylan’s long-limbed gait as he galloped up the hill toward her, his shaggy brown hair ruffled in the wind, his bright smile framed in his handsome, tanned face. He would lean down and swoop her into his arms. He would look directly into her eyes and tell her how much he had missed her. And then they would kiss— “Earth to Sophie!”

  “Huh?”

  “I was just saying that looks like the Morris boat over there.” Carrie Anne was pointing to a canary yellow ski boat pulling what looked like a wakeboard rider. “And I’ll bet that’s Dylan in back.”

  Sophie squinted behind her sunglasses, peering out over the shiny blue lake to where a lanky guy was doing a jump over the wave being made by the boat’s wake. She nodded. “I think you’re right.”

  “And there’s Dad at the dock,” Carrie Anne said. She grabbed Sophie’s hand and began to run. “Let’s hurry before he takes off again.”

  Sophie did a pretty decent job of keeping up with Carrie Anne’s longer legs, and the truth was that she was anxious to get down to the water too. They had just reached the boat ramp area when one of her flip-flops decided to flop instead of flip, and the next thing she knew, she was facedown in the gravel.

  “Oh, Sophie!” Carrie Anne cried. “Are you okay?”

  Sophie reached up for Carrie Anne’s extended hand, letting her friend help pull her back to her feet. “I, uh, I think so.”

  “Oh no!” Carrie Anne looked worried. “Your chin is bleeding.”

  Sophie reached for her chin, which was throbbing like someone had just smacked it with a sledgehammer.

  “And your arms—and your legs!” Carrie Anne’s eyes were huge. “You look like hamburger—raw hamburger.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “Sorry.” Carrie Anne gently led Sophie toward the day camp area.

  “Oh, Sophie,” Mrs. Vincent called as she hurried over to meet them. “What happened?”

  “She fell down in the gravel,” Carrie Anne said.

  “Oh dear.” Mrs. Vincent frowned. “There’s a first-aid kit in the boat. Run and get it, Carrie Anne.”

  The next thing Sophie knew, she was sitting on a wooden bench, feeling like she was about six years old, and Mrs. Vincent was carefully extracting pieces of gravel from her knees and elbows and chin. Soon she was cleaning the wounds and then applying some kind of greasy ointment. To make matters worse, several friends of the Vincents were now gathered about to watch the spectacle.

  “Wow, that looks like it hurts,” Mrs. Stewart said. Sophie forced a smile for her as she picked a piece of gravel from her elbow. She didn’t know the Stewarts too well, except that Mr. Stewart had attended seminary with Carrie Anne’s dad and maybe Dylan’s as well.

  “Your chin is starting to look like Jay Leno’s.” This from a blonde girl in a turquoise bikini. Sophie suspected she might be the Stewarts’ youngest daughter, but the girl had sure grown up since the last time Sophie had seen her.

  “April Lynnette!” Mrs. Stewart scolded.

  April just laughed. “Sorry, Mom, but it’s the truth.”

  Sophie’s hand was on her chin, partly to hide it and partly to determine whether or not it was fractured. Was it possible to break your chinbone?

  Finally, like putting the cherry on top, Mrs. Vincent plastered Sophie’s wounds with brightly colored bandages. “Sorry about the Disney theme,” she told Sophie. “But it’s the only way I can get the boys to allow me to put a bandage on them these days.”

  “What’s up?” a familiar male voice asked from behind the small crowd of onlookers.

  “Hey, Dylan,” April said. “Nice ride out there.”

  “Thanks. But what’s going—” He stopped suddenly, looking straight into Sophie’s face and then quickly away.

  “Sophie had a little accident,” Carrie Anne explained. She smiled shyly, almost hopefully, at Dylan.

  Sophie wanted to die. Instead she looked down at her thighs, which suddenly seemed larger than life, splayed out like filets on the hard wooden bench. If only she could just vanish—poof. Beam me up, Scotty.

  “You should’ve seen her,” April said with macabre enthusiasm. “Running down the boat ramp, and then splat—she fell smack on her face. Don’t you think her chin looks kinda like Jay Leno’s?”

  “April!”

  “Sorry.” April giggled.

  Sophie looked up to see that April had her arm linked with Dylan’s. She was smiling up at him like they had just said their vows and were ready to head out for their honeymoon. “I want to go out in your boat now, Dylan. Will you teach me to do that jump like you said you would?”

  Dylan looked at Sophie again. His eyes looked sad . . . and something else too. Maybe just worried, like he was afraid she was going to say something—something that might blow his cover.

  “Come on,” April said. “Are you going to teach me or what?” “Uh, yeah, I guess so,” he said to her. He turned back to Sophie. “I hope you’re going to be okay.”

  She forced a smile and held up a brightly bandaged arm. “Yeah, and when Mrs. Vincent is done, I think I’ll join the circus.”

  They all laughed. Dylan, seemingly satisfied that Sophie wasn’t going to do or say anything embarrassing, turned and walked back toward the dock. April was still clinging to him, and Sophie thought she could see the bounce return to his steps as he got farther away from her. Soon the others dispersed too, going their separate ways. Dads and kids down to the boats, the other moms back to the picnic site. Sophie encouraged Carrie Anne to go out in the boat with her dad and her little brothers.

  “But what about you? Aren’t you coming?”

  Sophie shook her head, smiling as big as she could manage and hoping to fend off tears. “No, I think I better stay out of the water today.”

  “I think that’s wise, Sophie,” Mrs. Vincent said. “You don’t want to risk getting an infection.”

  Soon the boats were loaded up and roaring away from the dock. Mrs. Vincent led Sophie over to join the middle-aged moms. To make matters worse, Sophie suddenly found herself alone with Dylan’s mom. Mrs. Vincent had just introduced them before she and Mrs. Stewart headed over to the pump for a bucket of dishwashing water.

  “That was quite a fall,” Mrs. Morris said.

  Sophie smoothed down the edge of a pink Minnie Mouse bandage on her right forearm and nodded. “I know. It’s like one minute you’re having a good time, and the next thing you know, you’re a limping, walking billboard for the Disney channel.”

  Mrs. Morris chuckled. “At least you’ve got a sense of humor about it.”

  “Yeah . . . sometimes that’s all a girl’s got.”

  3

  Sophie swatted a mosquito on her neck and imagined herself not only bruised and scabby for the first day back at school, but swollen with insect bites as well. Lovely.

  Still longing to disappear, she quietly moved her chair a few feet away from the middle-aged mom club and settled into the tree shadows, where she proceeded to sip a Diet Coke and daydream about what it would be like to attend her own funeral. Hopefully Dylan would come . . . and feel guilty.

  Soon the moms, not even no
ticing her, were chatting candidly among themselves. They seemed perfectly oblivious to the fact that Sophie was still sitting nearby and listening. She considered warning them that a spy was in their midst, and then decided, Why bother?

  “So how are you feeling about Dylan leaving home for college?” Mrs. Vincent asked. “Empty-nest syndrome hitting you yet?”

  “Not quite. But I’ll admit it’s not easy to see your only child leave home.” Mrs. Morris frowned. “And I know you’ve heard some of the PK horror stories.”

  “PK horror stories?” Mrs. Stewart looked confused.

  Mrs. Vincent sighed. “Surely you’ve heard tales about how pastors’ kids go bonkers in college. How they rebel and party and drink and all that sort of nonsense. But I think it’s highly exaggerated.”

  “Maybe so, but I can’t deny that it worries me sometimes.” “Oh, kids will be kids,” Mrs. Stewart said. “They all need to rebel a little bit. That’s how they grow up.”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” Mrs. Morris said. “You’re not a pastor’s wife anymore.”

  “Well, I still remember what it’s like,” Mrs. Stewart said. “The only difference between pastoring and lawyering is you get to bill your clients.” She chuckled.

  “Even so,” Mrs. Vincent continued, “there’s a lot of pressure on families in the ministry. We need to be perfect . . . Our kids need to be perfect.”

  Mrs. Stewart nodded. “I suppose that’s true. Maybe being married to a workaholic attorney has its upside after all.”

  They continued to chat among themselves, and for the most part Sophie managed to tune them out. But she couldn’t help but wonder about what Dylan’s mom had just insinuated. She seemed genuinely worried about her son, about the fact that he might make some wrong choices. Well, maybe she should be worried. Dylan might claim to be a strong Christian, but he certainly wasn’t an angel. The way he had treated Sophie wasn’t anything to be proud of. Not that Sophie wanted to think about that now.

  Suddenly her ears perked up again.

  “That Dylan’s always been the lady killer,” Mrs. Vincent was saying. “Even when he was a toddler, he had those thick, long lashes and that million-dollar smile. I can still remember how he could coax me into an extra cookie after you’d told him he’d had enough already.”