“Bad memories give me the same feelings as these bare tree limbs,” Coach said. “Lonely. Would you mind if I prayed for Sam?”
Coach talked to God as if he were her best friend. “We need some help here. I don’t know where else to look. Sam is a special person. Of course you already know that, but we’re asking you to watch over her.”
A warm feeling wrapped its way around my heart. “Coach, I like Sam. I mean … I really like her.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“You’re not?”
“No. I first suspected the night Franny and I had dinner at your house. When you said Sam was the most interesting person you’d ever met, your cheeks were the same color as Franny’s summer roses.”
“Mom cried when I told her.”
“Moms do that. Give her time. She’ll come around.”
“What about Sam’s mom?”
Coach shook her head. “Sam’s mom believes in the teaching at One True Way. She thinks Sam’s feelings are sinful. I was raised in a home like that. It took me years to get past it.”
I was grateful my church had a gentler way of interpreting the Bible than Sam’s. My mom was struggling, but at least she wouldn’t threaten me with hell.
Coach turned the car around in a gravel driveway and headed back toward town. The narrow road grew wider and turned into Main Street. Coach made a right onto Apple Avenue. “I’m gonna swing by my house and use the telephone. Maybe somebody’s heard from Sam.”
I was out of ideas and started to silently pray.
The driveway dipped and the car’s headlights flashed against Coach’s front porch. “Look!” I screamed. “Look!”
It was Sam.
Sam was sitting on the front porch steps. Coach barely had time to stop the car before I was out and running. “Where have you been?” I cried. “Where’s Penny?”
Sam’s teeth were chattering.
Coach unlocked the front door. “Let’s go inside and get warmed up.”
While Coach made hot chocolate, I sat beside Sam at the kitchen table, waiting to hear what had happened.
Finally, she said, “Penny’s at the vet’s. A barbed-wire fence was down and she got tangled up and cut her leg.”
“Will she be okay?”
“The vet thinks so. I’ll get Dad to take the trailer and pick her up tomorrow.”
“Your parents are worried,” Coach said. “You have to call and let them know you’re okay.”
Sam scowled. “I was running away, but Penny got hurt.”
I reached under the table for Sam’s hand and held on tight.
“You and Penny are safe now,” Coach said. “That’s what counts.”
Unlike at my house, Coach’s phone hung on the kitchen wall. She handed the receiver to Sam. “Allie and I will be waiting for you in the den.”
I knew giving Sam privacy was the right thing to do, but I hated leaving her alone. Mrs. Johnson might say something to hurt Sam even more. She wouldn’t mean to. It was like Coach said: she only wanted what was best for Sam, but she didn’t understand. Not one bit.
Sam’s eyes were red when she joined Coach and me in the den. “My dad will be here in about fifteen minutes.”
Coach picked up our empty mugs. “I’ll wash these and give the two of you a chance to talk.”
Sam sat down beside me on the couch. “I’m gonna quit basketball,” she said.
“But why?”
“So Mom will leave Coach alone. We made a deal.”
I remembered Coach saying Sam had the potential to be a standout in high school. “But you love basketball, and you’re so good at it.”
Sam shrugged. “I don’t know what else to do. But I’m pretty athletic. I can pick up a different sport.”
Then I told Sam about Mom. How she was disappointed. About Mom’s fears for me and how she cried. “I need to give her some time to accept that I’m not exactly the daughter she hoped for.”
“Guess that means we won’t be seeing each other outside of school,” Sam said.
“Yeah, I don’t see how that would work.” Ribbit, ribbit.
Sam reached for my hand. “Ribbit, ribbit,” she answered.
We sat with tears running down our cheeks until her dad arrived. Sam got up and trudged over to the door. “’Bye, Allie. I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you even more.”
The news that Sam had quit the basketball team spread faster than the flu. I sat across the lunch table from Webb, staring down at a plateful of pinto beans. I hadn’t gotten used to pintos or collard greens. I wished I’d packed my lunch.
“Is it true about Sam quitting the basketball team?” he demanded.
“Yeah, it’s true.”
Webb’s eyes widened, and he sucked in his cheeks. It reminded me of the way he looked when he played the tuba. “You’ve got to write that story!” he said. “The whole school is wondering what happened.”
“No.”
“No! Why not? This is big news. All the kids would read that article!”
“And that’s why I won’t write it.” I told him the story Sam and I had agreed on. “It’s embarrassing, but she has to get her grades up.”
“Oh.” Webb munched on a carrot stick. “That makes sense. Sam’s never done well in English, or history either.”
I looked over Webb’s shoulder, scanning the lunch tables to see which kid was lucky enough to be with Sam. She was sitting with Big D. I watched her hands move, shooting a pretend basketball. Sam and Dwayne were always doing that. They were probably talking college sports again.
Webb snapped his fingers to get my attention. “Did you hear me?”
“Ummm, yeah. Pioneer Days. You said something about Pioneer Days.”
“We should get together and practice square dancing,” Webb repeated.
At the mention of square dancing, my hands and waist tingled. I remembered that day in Sam’s room. Pick up your partner, and whirl her around. I could almost feel Sam lifting me off my feet. I wished I could dance with her again.
“So do you want to come over to my house?” Webb asked.
I took a sip of chocolate milk and tried to think of a good excuse to say no. There wasn’t one. “Why don’t you come to my house instead?” Not that I wanted to spend more time with Webb, but it would make Mom happy.
One of the things I missed most about New Jersey was good Italian food. Mom knew that, and all week she’d made Italian—eggplant parmesan, meatball subs—and for my square dancing date, she’d saved her specialty, spaghetti Bolognese.
On Friday, Webb walked me home from school. “You’ve been different this week,” he said. “Sort of quiet and sad.”
I kicked at fall leaves with my sneaker. “I feel bad about Sam quitting the basketball team. That’s all.”
“I feel bad too,” Webb said. “But you’re acting as if it happened to you.”
I didn’t know how to answer that. I couldn’t tell him I was unhappy because Sam was unhappy, and she was unhappy because of me.
I unlocked the front door, and a meat sauce aroma wafted over us.
Webb closed his eyes and inhaled. “Garlic and fresh basil. Two of the most stupendous smells on earth!”
Mom peeked around the kitchen corner. She smiled, which meant she was glad to see me with Webb. I could read her like a favorite book. “You have a good nose for herbs,” she said.
Webb launched into a description of his garden. I hoped he’d talk a long time so we could skip the dancing.
“I moved the coffee table so you can practice in the den,” Mom said, “and I brought a couple of square dancing albums home from the library.”
She had put a lot more effort into this date than I had. I led Webb to the den and put on some music.
Webb held out his hand and I took it. “Just follow my lead, Allie. I love to dance.”
Sam was right. Webb was an excellent dancer. He picked me up and whirled me around, but there was no tingle when he touched me. No spark. No racing heart. He
wasn’t Sam.
“You’re doing great!” Webb said. “Nobody would ever guess you’re new at this.”
I was doing great because I wasn’t nervous about dancing with him. It made a difference.
Webb smiled at me. He was smart, and kind, and funny. It would be easier for me, and better for Mom, if I liked him instead of Sam. I needed to think a lot more about that.
I didn’t have any plans on Saturday. Feeling a little bored and lonely, I rode my bike to Reverend Walker’s office. My life was such a mess that I needed help making sense of it.
I found her outside, filling up a bird feeder that hung from a maple tree. “Nice to see you, Allie. I was just about to make some Russian tea.”
I followed Reverend Walker inside and cuddled up in a floral armchair. She poured hot water into two mugs and added the Russian tea mix. It smelled like fall: oranges, cinnamon, and cloves.
“Growing up is awfully confusing, isn’t it?” Reverend Walker said.
It was an open-ended question, the kind my teachers often asked. It invited me to tell everything or only a little bit. I only meant to tell a little, but once I got started, the words came pouring out. How I’d always felt different. I explained why I’d thought Mom would understand. How she loved Uncle Jeffrey and was friends with Coach and Miss Holt. I told her how we’d all let Mom down: first Eric, then Dad, and now me. I confessed that going to Pioneer Days with Webb felt like a lie, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, and it seemed to make Mom happy.
“I don’t believe God wants you to live a lie, Allie.”
“But what about those Bible verses? Sam’s mom thinks people like us are going to hell.”
“Consider the time period the Bible was written in. Put it into cultural context. First Corinthians 14:35 says it’s shameful for a woman to speak in church. Can you imagine? And there are over two hundred verses dealing with slavery, but those verses don’t apply to our lives today. Maybe the same could be said for the Bible’s stance on homosexuality.”
“I wish Mrs. Johnson could have heard the way Coach prayed for help finding Sam. She believes in God.”
“I know,” Reverend Walker said. “Murph is a wonderful person.”
“What worries me the most is hurting Mom.”
Reverend Walker gave me that beautiful smile of hers. “Your mom’s afraid you’ll be the one who gets hurt, but give her time to adjust. She loves you too much not to.”
“Do you think I could be the one to adjust? Webb came over for dinner last night, and it made Mom so happy. If I could just like him instead of Sam, it would be a lot easier. When we were square dancing, I wondered how to change my feelings. Do you think I could?”
“Only you know the answer to that, Allie. There’s no reason to rush. Take your time and decide what’s right for you.”
I finished my tea and placed the mug on her desk. “Thanks for listening.”
“My pleasure. That’s what I’m here for, but did I help you at all?”
“Yeah, talking helps, and I think you’re right. There’s no rush, but I’m the only one who can decide.”
When I got back home, Mom was reading in the den. She held up her book. “This is Roots by Alex Haley. It’s a fascinating read.”
“What’s it about?”
“The history of a slave family.”
I loved almost any book with history in it. “Maybe I’ll read it when you’re finished.” Mom didn’t censor my reading. She was good about that.
“Where’d you bike to?”
“Church. Went to see Reverend Walker.”
Mom used a bookmark and closed Roots. “I didn’t handle this thing between you and Sam very well. I know that.”
“There’s not really a thing, Mom. I just realized I like her. I’m sorry it makes you unhappy. I’d change if I knew how.”
“You’re so young,” Mom said, “and people can be so cruel. I want to protect you.”
“I know.”
“This could just be a phase,” Mom said. “Why don’t we give it a few months and then see how you feel?”
Mom didn’t think I was old enough to know my own feelings. Saying it was just a phase irritated me, but I was the one who had decided not to rush things. “Okay, we’ll wait and see, and, Mom, try not to worry so much.”
Reverend Walker had said God didn’t want me to live a lie, but that seemed better than hurting the person I loved most.
I was late for Monday’s newspaper staff meeting. Miss Holt, Webb, and Dwayne were all waiting for me.
“Sorry. I forgot to set my alarm clock.” That seemed like a good excuse. The truth was I’d stayed in bed to avoid Mom.
Webb pulled out a typed agenda. The first item brought tears to my eyes. He’d gone behind my back and had Dwayne write about why Sam had quit the basketball team.
“Sam’s gonna get some tutoring and spend more time studying,” Big D said. “That way she can play in high school, when it really counts toward college.”
Miss Holt chipped the polish from one of her fingernails with her thumb. We both knew the real reason.
“Allie, which seventh grader do you want to interview next?” Webb asked.
“If you print that story about Sam, there won’t be another interview. I’ll quit.”
“But it’s my … my decision,” Webb sputtered.
“It’s an invasion of Sam’s privacy,” I countered.
Webb squinted at me through his glasses, letting me know he was irritated. The feeling was mutual. I squinted back.
Webb turned to Miss Holt. “We’ve reached an impasse. It’s up to you.”
Miss Holt rubbed her forehead and took a minute before answering. “I didn’t step in initially because I wanted you to solve this problem by yourselves. Allie’s right. This would be an invasion of privacy. I know real newspapers do that, but a school newspaper has a higher purpose, to foster community and highlight the accomplishments of its students, doesn’t it?”
Webb’s face flushed. “I didn’t think of it like that. I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted,” Miss Holt said.
We sat silent as statues until Dwayne jumped in. “Now that we’re scrapping my story about Sam, we need a new article. How about Allie and I interview each other? We’ll call it ‘Dueling Reporters.’ ”
I was still irritated at Dwayne for writing the article in the first place, but he had the nicest smile. It was impossible to stay mad at him.
Miss Holt clasped her hands together, leaning toward me. “It’d be something new and interesting for our readers, and for you too, Allie. What do you say?”
I said okay. Saying no would have just caused a big stink. I spent the rest of the meeting daydreaming about Sam. We climbed on Penelope and rode far, far away. I wished the dream could come true.
Big D and I met after school in the library. The location was his idea. I would have rather gone to Scott’s Drug Store for a cherry coke.
We opened our notebooks and stared at each other. We’d never really talked without Sam or Webb around. Normally, I would have made a list of questions, but it hadn’t seemed worth the effort.
“How do you like DB so far?” Dwayne asked.
I shrugged. “Good.”
Dwayne put his elbows on the table. “One- or two-word answers will make a mighty boring interview.”
“Sorry.”
“Maybe I didn’t ask the right question. What I’d really like to know is why you went from happy to sad.”
“It’s a long story.”
“We’ve got an hour before Mrs. Smitherman closes the library.”
There was no easy way to explain. “The short answer is my brother died. That changed everything. My mom’s sad, and she thinks I’m spending too much time with Sam.”
Dwayne nodded. “Thought it had something to do with Sam.” He scrunched his forehead so that it wrinkled like an old man’s. “I watch people. Bet you do too, since you like to write.”
“I do it all the
time.”
“And what I noticed,” Dwayne said, “is your eyes shine whenever Sam is around.”
“It’s that obvious, huh?”
“It is to me.”
We sat there awkward and silent. Finally, I said, “We’d better get started on ‘Dueling Reporters.’ What do you want to be when you grow up?”
Dwayne told me how he hoped to someday go to the University of North Carolina and play for Coach Smith. “They’ve got a good journalism program too. What about you?”
“A reporter, same as you.”
“Why’d you ask me about the future?” Dwayne said. “You didn’t do that in any of your other interviews.”
I didn’t want to admit that talking about the future meant I could avoid talking about the present. “I don’t know. That’s just what happened.”
As we were packing up our notebooks, Dwayne said, “You’ve got good taste in friends. Sam is about my favorite person around here.”
“Mine too.”
“Then tell your mom that,” Dwayne said. “Stand up to her the way you stood up to Webb. That was something!”
I felt a smile spread across my face. “Maybe you’re right. I need to speak up more!”
I headed out the main entrance to DB and there stood Sam, with her back to me. Her hands were shoved in her pockets, and her shoulders were hunched against the wind. I thought about walking away, but I couldn’t stop staring at her. “Sam?” Ribbit, ribbit.
She looked over her shoulder. “Ribbit, ribbit.”
“I stayed after school to interview Dwayne for the newspaper. What about you?”
“It’s kind of pathetic.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“I hid behind the locker room door and watched basketball practice through the crack.”
“That’s not pathetic. That’s sad.”
“Don’t you cry on me, Allie Drake.”
“I can’t help it. I miss you.”
“I know, but your mom’s been through a lot. Hanging around me will just make her sad.”
“How are things going with your family?”
“They’re still pretending I’m just a tomboy.”
One True Way Page 7