One True Way

by Shannon Hitchcock

  After she finished working her makeup magic, Melissa handed me my glasses. “Go take a look.”

  I stood up and walked over to the mirror hanging above her chest of drawers. I looked brighter, like she’d taken a black-and-white photo of me and changed it into a colored one. I ducked my head, wondering what Sam would think.

  Melissa rummaged in her closet, pulling out a blue gingham dress with a matching bonnet and a white pinafore. “I’ll turn my back while you try it on.”

  I shimmied out of my shirt and jeans and pulled the blue dress over my head. Melissa buttoned it up the back for me. “Let’s call Sam to take a look.”

  Sam tromped up the steps and down the hall. She leaned against the doorway, staring at me.

  I smoothed the pinafore with shaky hands.

  “You look great, Allie. As pretty as Penny when I get her ready for a horse show.”

  “What kind of compliment is that?” Melissa asked. “Who wants to be compared to a horse?”

  I did. It was Sam’s way of saying I looked beautiful.

  “Do you know how to square dance?” Melissa asked. “All of the dancing at Pioneer Days is old-fashioned. It’s nothing like American Bandstand or Soul Train.”

  Dancing made me think of Webb, and my voice came out all scratchy. “I don’t know how.”

  “Ribbit, ribbit,” Sam said. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll teach you.”

  “Melissa,” Mrs. Johnson called, “I need to take your measurements.”

  I was alone with Sam.

  “You look pretty, Allie.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me down the hall to her room. “I want to dance with you.” She shifted her weight from foot to foot.

  Nervous, I thought. Same as me.

  Sam flipped through a stack of albums. “Usually square dance music has a fiddle and a banjo. My dad will call the figures.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Instructions. Just pay attention and follow your partner. Webb’s pretty good.”

  Webb. I didn’t want to dance with him, even if he turned out to be the best square dancer in the whole county.

  Sam played a fast fiddle tune and grabbed my hands. “Swing your partner ’round and ’round.”

  She had rhythm. Sam moved quick and graceful, just like on the basketball court. I stepped on her foot. “I’m not very good at this.”

  Sam didn’t answer. “Pick up your partner, and whirl her around.”

  She lifted me off my feet as if I were no heavier than Jonathan.

  “Stop worrying about looking dumb. Listen to the words and have fun. Ace of diamonds, jack of spades, meet your partner and promenade.”

  I quit worrying and started laughing.

  Sam smiled. “Much better.”

  I was sorry when my lesson was over. I glanced down at my right hand. Dancing with Sam had turned my mood ring from brown to violet. I wondered if she knew what the colors stood for. Brown meant anxious, and violet meant happy. Dancing with Sam had made me happy.

  When I woke up on Sunday morning, Sam was already dressed and sitting on the twin bed opposite mine. “Why are you wearing jeans?” I asked. “Aren’t we going to church?”

  Sam wrinkled her nose. “I’m not wearing a dress one minute longer than I have to.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a quarter. “See this? Every Sunday I use it to make holes in my panty hose during preaching. Mom never gets the message, though. She keeps buying new ones.”

  The hose themselves didn’t matter, but how they made Sam feel did. She felt ridiculous in hose and a skirt. “I’m sorry, Sam. I wish you could wear your jeans.”

  “Me too.”

  After I showered and put on borrowed church clothes, Sam knocked on the bathroom door. “Mom’s got breakfast ready,” she said.

  We had pancakes and sausage patties. Instead of eating with us, Mrs. Johnson worked the griddle so the pancakes were served hot and golden brown.

  “Jonathan, don’t use all the syrup,” she scolded. “Your pancakes are already floating in it.”

  Melissa reached over with a napkin and wiped his mouth.

  Jonathan twisted his head. “Stop it!”

  “He’s gonna need a bath before church,” Melissa said.

  Mrs. Johnson stacked more pancakes onto a platter and carried it to the table. “Go ahead and finish them off. Dad had his breakfast earlier.”

  I helped myself to another pancake, and then Mrs. Johnson said, “I called Reverend Albert last night. I told him about Coach Murphy and Miss Holt. They’re setting a bad example, and it’s my Christian duty to stop them.”

  My appetite disappeared.

  Sam gripped the edge of the table with both hands. Her voice was clipped and angry. “Murph’s my basketball coach. Why do you want to cause trouble for her?”

  “Samantha Johnson, don’t take that tone of voice with me.”

  “Murph is my friend. Leave her alone.”

  “She’s not your friend; she’s your teacher.” Mrs. Johnson shook her spatula at Sam. “She’s a pervert. Her lifestyle is disgusting. Why, she’s an abomination, that’s what she is!”

  Sam stood up with clenched fists. “I hate that word. I. HATE. IT. Mom, don’t you see what you’re doing? You could cause Murph to lose her job. Or something even worse.”

  At that moment, all I wanted was to go home.

  Jonathan’s bottom lip trembled. Melissa stood and put her arm around him. “Stop it! You’re scaring him.”

  All the fight went out of Sam when she looked at Jonathan. She marched over to the kitchen door. “Allie, you should call your mom to come and pick you up.”

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “Taking Penny for a ride.”

  “Sam, you head upstairs and get ready for church,” Mrs. Johnson said.

  Sam slammed the door instead.

  Alone with Sam’s family, I didn’t know who to look at or what to say. “I need to use the phone,” I mumbled and hurried to call Mom.

  “Honey, is everything all right? You sound upset.”

  “Just come get me, okay?”

  “You’re scaring me. Are you in any kind of danger?”

  “Mom, don’t be ridiculous.” I wanted to yell at her for jumping to conclusions, but what had happened to Eric stopped me. Sometimes the worst conclusion is the true one.

  I stood shivering on the front porch, and Melissa waited with me. “It’s chilly. Wouldn’t you rather stay inside until your mom gets here?”

  “No thanks. I’m fine.”

  “I’m sorry about what happened in there. My mom’s afraid.”

  “Why?”

  “The youth director at church told her some stuff, but it was no big deal. Sam was just a little kid then.”

  I looked up at the porch ceiling. “Sam trusted her. The youth director shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “But Sam’s not gay!” Melissa insisted. “If she were, I’d know.”

  Melissa was wrong, but I couldn’t tell her. It was up to Sam. We stood shivering on the porch until Mom’s Dodge Dart pulled up in a cloud of dust and leaves. “See you later. Ask Sam to call me after her ride.”

  While I climbed in, Mom drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. I had barely slammed the car door before she fired off a list of questions.

  “What happened?

  “Why are you so pale?

  “Where’s Sam?”

  I leaned my head back against the seat. “Sam had a fight with her mom. She stormed out of the house and went for a ride on Penny.”

  “Oh. Is that all? Moms and daughters argue all the time. Once when I was your age—”

  I held up my hand. “Don’t, Mom. Just don’t.”

  She didn’t say another word on the ride home, but I knew, sooner or later, I’d have to tell her something. But what? I needed time to think.

  I spent Sunday afternoon lying on my bed. I thought about the stuff Reverend Walker had told us. The words Sam’s mom had used were stuck inside my
head. Abomination. Pervert. The words even sounded ugly. When Mom knocked on my door, I turned my back to her.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and tucked my hair behind my ear. “Talk to me, Allison. I hate seeing you unhappy.”

  “I don’t have anything to say.”

  Mom rubbed my back in slow circles, just the way I liked. “You’ll feel better if you do.”

  She waited.

  I sealed my lips shut.

  Mom rubbed my back some more.

  Finally, I said, “Sam’s mom called Reverend Albert from One True Way. She told him Coach and Miss Holt are a bad influence on kids.”

  “Ah.” Mom sucked in her breath. “Then what happened?”

  “Sam got upset and yelled at her mom. That’s about it.”

  Mom gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Try not to worry. I’ll call Reverend Walker. Maybe she can talk to the pastor at One True Way and smooth things over. Hopefully, he’s a reasonable man. Don’t worry,” Mom repeated.

  But I did.

  Sometime much later, the phone rang. “Allie,” Mom called. “Have you heard from Sam?”

  The tone of Mom’s voice scared me. I hurried out of my room and down the hall. “No, I haven’t talked to Sam since this morning.”

  Mom relayed the information and hung up the phone. “Sam hasn’t come home from her ride.”

  It was already dark outside. Sam had to be cold and hungry. I started to shiver.

  Mom put her arm around my shoulders and steered me toward the kitchen. “There must have been even more to that argument than you told me.” She filled the teakettle and put it on the stove. “Think, Allie. Where would Sam have gone?”

  Of course there was more to the argument, but I didn’t want to tell her. “Sam has lots of friends. She could be with any of them.” I wished I could do the morning over and follow Sam to the barn. “Call Coach. She knows Sam better than anybody else. Even me.”

  While the water heated, Mom spoke with Coach Murphy. She grimaced when explaining why Sam ran away. Though it wasn’t Coach’s fault, what Mom said was bound to make her feel bad.

  When the teakettle whistled, I poured hot water over our tea bags. Southerners drink iced tea, even when it’s cold, but I hadn’t gotten used to that. A cup of tea was more soothing.

  Mom came back to the kitchen and sat across from me at the table. “Coach Murphy and Franny are going to look for Sam.”

  I could hardly breathe. I had hoped Coach would have heard from her. “Maybe we should look too.”

  “Murph asked us to stay put,” Mom said. “There’s a good chance Sam will show up here. Or maybe try to call you. I just don’t understand why she would do this.”

  The words came tumbling out. “Because her mom called Coach an abomination. That’s hurtful. It’s … it’s the same as calling Sam one.”

  Mom’s mouth flew open wide. “Oh.” She clutched her chest. “Are you telling me … ?”

  I heard a roar. The blood rushed to my head too fast. “Yes.”

  “Sam hasn’t tried to … to kiss you … has she?”

  “No! I mean I’ve thought about it, but we’ve only held hands.”

  Mom shook her head back and forth. Hard. “You are way too young for that! Lots of times girls, and I suppose boys too, have intense feelings for each other, but it doesn’t mean they’re gay.”

  “If I’d told you I had a crush on Webb, would you have said I’m too young?”

  Mom stared into her empty teacup.

  “Well, would you?”

  “No, probably not.”

  “Exactly. If I’m not too young to have feelings for a boy, then I’m not too young to have feelings for a girl.”

  “Maybe it’s just a phase.”

  “I don’t think so. I’ve thought about it a lot.”

  Mom cried. It started out silent, just tears snaking down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Allie. I’m usually so tolerant, but somehow it’s different when it’s your own daughter. More personal, somehow.”

  “Are you disappointed in me?” Ribbit, ribbit.

  “No, no, of course not.”

  But the tears and the look in her eyes told me a different story.

  “It’s … it’s just that I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want you to be gossiped about, or called bad names, or maybe even assaulted by some terrible person.”

  Mom was trembling. It reminded me of the night Eric died. “Don’t cry,” I pleaded.

  Mom reached for a napkin and wiped her face, but the tears kept pooling like a leaky faucet. I watched them. Drip. Drip. Drip.

  “I failed Eric, and now I’ve failed you too,” Mom whispered. “I should have kept you away from Sam and stopped this … this thing from happening.”

  Tears ran down my face to match Mom’s. “You couldn’t have stopped it.” Honestly, I wasn’t sure I could have stopped it either. I’d sworn to be a good daughter, to never cause Mom the kind of pain Eric’s death had, but somehow I hadn’t kept my promise.

  Our house was cold and lonely. Mom hadn’t moved, but the distance from the kitchen table to the den couch seemed as far away as New Jersey. I wished she’d yell or scream or something. The silence was the worst. She was disappointed in me.

  I dragged myself off the couch and peered out the window. My wristwatch said it was only seven thirty, but it felt like midnight. Where was Sam? I considered talking to Dad. Surely he would understand because of Uncle Jeffrey, but maybe not. I had seriously underestimated Mom’s reaction. I called Reverend Walker instead.

  It didn’t take long for her to arrive and join Mom at the kitchen table. I wanted to eavesdrop, but it would be humiliating to get caught. It already felt like I’d done something gross and awful just by liking Sam.

  Mom’s voice rose and fell, but Reverend Walker’s was a slow, steady hum. I wished I were old enough to drive so I could look for Sam myself. Sometimes I hated being twelve. It meant depending on adults, and sometimes they only made things worse.

  About an hour later, Coach and Miss Holt showed up at our front door. Alone. The haunted look in Coach’s eyes got to me the most. “Allie, can we come in?”

  A part of me wanted to slam the door in their faces. I was afraid of bad news. Afraid they’d tell me something that could never be fixed. Like the night Eric died.

  I stepped aside and followed Coach and Miss Holt to the kitchen. While I refilled the teakettle, Coach said, “Sam spent the afternoon playing Diplomacy with Webb, but nobody knows where she went after that.”

  “Did you try Phoebe’s?” I asked.

  “Yes. She was at Phoebe’s before Webb’s, and had lunch with Dwayne Williams and his family.”

  “I bet she’s at Kelly Hutton’s house! Sometimes she goes to visit Jenny.”

  “I tried calling there and nobody answered. I even drove by, and the house was dark.”

  Sam was saying good-bye to all her friends. Once I had that thought, I knew it was true.

  “The darkness is what worries me the most,” Coach said. “I’m afraid of a driver not seeing Penelope until it’s too late.”

  An image flashed through my mind of a car hitting Penny. I imagined Sam lying cold and still—like Eric. I pushed those thoughts away, because they hurt too much.

  “Somebody should call and give Sam’s parents an update,” Coach said, “and it probably shouldn’t be me.”

  Reverend Walker drummed her fingers on the kitchen table. “Murph, you should be the one who calls. Mrs. Johnson needs to know how much you care about Sam.”

  Coach’s side of the conversation drifted from the hall to the kitchen. She remained calm and professional, recounting all the places she’d looked for Sam. She asked if Mrs. Johnson knew of other places Sam might be.

  Mom looked across the table at me. “I love you, Allie.”

  I was too choked up to answer, but managed a nod. Deep down I’d known Mom wouldn’t stop loving me, but was she still proud of me? Or would there always be this empty space betwee
n us?

  A few minutes later, Coach came back to the kitchen. She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. “Mr. Johnson is out on his tractor. He’s driving through the fields and pastures. Places a car can’t go.”

  “How’s Mrs. Johnson holding up?” Reverend Walker asked.

  “She’s scared,” Coach said. “She loves Sam. There’s no doubt about that.” Coach paced from one end of the kitchen to the other. “I can’t sit here and do nothing. I’m gonna drive around back roads and then through town. Sam’s gotta be out there somewhere.”

  I was on my feet and beat Coach to the front door. “I’m going too!”

  Coach Murphy’s car crept down country roads with no streetlights. I peered out the passenger side window at bare fields and tree limbs that looked like skeletons. There was hardly any traffic and no sign of Sam or Penelope.

  “I blame myself for this,” Coach said.

  “Why?”

  Coach stared out the windshield into the darkness. “Because I didn’t keep a professional distance between myself and Sam. I thought she needed somebody who understood.”

  I remembered Sam saying she had asked Coach a hard question and Coach had told her the truth. “Sam told me when she first met you, she knew you were like her.”

  “That’s what is bothering me,” Coach said. “I felt really desperate a few times when I was Sam’s age. Like nobody would ever understand me. You don’t think she’d try to hurt herself, do you, Allie?”

  “You mean on purpose?”

  “Yes, on purpose.”

  Her question made tears well up in my eyes. “I think she ran away.” I couldn’t stand to think of the alternative.

  “Then we’ll just have to keep looking until we find her.”

  The longer we drove without spotting Sam, the more anxious I became. All of the winding roads started to look the same.

  “Don’t cry, Allie.”

  I brushed away tears with my coat sleeve. “It’s like the night Eric died. He didn’t come home. Dad drove around looking for him. Mom started calling hospitals. Finally, a policeman showed up at our door.”