“Okay, let’s go.” I grabbed my bag, slid my Bible inside, and held it open for Lenni. She tossed in her Bible and lip gloss. We bounded down the stairs.
“Bye, Mom! We’re going to church!” I yelled toward the kitchen as we dashed through the living room.
“Bye.”
I jumped, startled. Mom laid on the couch, damp rag on her head. “Are you okay?” I asked, going to her.
“A little nauseous from too much red cabbage. I’ll be fine. Say a little prayer for me, okay?” She smiled.
“Okay. Love you, Mom.” I kissed her forehead. Her nightgown clung to her swollen abdomen. Lenni gave me a knowing glance. “See you in a little while.”
“Be good at church.” Mom closed her eyes.
We ran past porch witch, down the steps, and over the walkway. “I can’t run in these sandals,” Lenni squawked.
“You have to.” I winced, a blister forming on my big toe. We limped toward the church parking lot in a matter of minutes. “Waah, waah! I can’t run.” I rubbed my eye with my fist, mocking Lenni.
She laughed. “Bet those shoes smell real good right about now, Mol—”
“Shhh!” I stopped walking and put a finger to my lips. Angry yells carried to where we stood on the curb.
Bianca faced Mrs. Piper in front of the church, arms jerking, red hair whipping around her head. We crouched behind Mrs. Piper’s SUV.
“You’re such a gossiping hypocrite. I’ll get you fired. I know all about school confidentiality laws. You can’t reveal a student’s personal life to another student. My dad will sue you—probably sue the entire school district. Big mistake, Piper. Hope it was worth it.”
The earth sank beneath my feet. Dread oozed through my stomach.
She wouldn’t dare.
I knew she would.
“Bianca, calm down.”
“I will not!” Bianca screeched. People gathered around.
This was all my fault. I should have kept quiet about Bianca’s mother.
Lenni pressed her hand to her throat, tears in her eyes.
I could fix it. I’d tell Bianca it was Mr. Cecil, not Mrs. Piper, who told me about her past. No. It wouldn’t work. Mr. Cecil was an old man, and Bianca was capable of anything. Helplessness overwhelmed me.
What do I do, God? I’m scared.
I dropped to the pavement, unzipped my bag, and wrapped my hand around a Bible. I opened the grease-splattered cover and thumbed to the concordance in the back, searching for a passage on fear. Second Timothy, chapter one, verse seven. Lenni stared at me, question marks nearly visible in her wide, blue eyes.
I turned pages until I found it. “For God hath not given us a spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.”
“Thank you,” I breathed, sliding Lenni’s Bible back into the bag.
Bianca and Mrs. Piper turned to the small bus as it rolled to a stop. The door opened. “Daddy, keep the kids on for a minute,” Mrs. Piper said.
“What’s the trouble?” Mr. Cecil asked, stepping down.
“We’re trying to get a miscommunication worked out,” Mrs. Piper explained.
“Liar!” Bianca shouted.
“Young lady, this here’s my daughter. You can’t speak to her that way. She’s a schoolteacher and your elder.” Mr. Cecil pointed at Bianca then slowly dropped his hand. “Say, you’re that little redheaded, Ravenwood girl, Beatrice.”
“Her name is Bianca.” A man in a worn suit-coat and jeans stepped from the bus. “She’s my daughter.”
I couldn’t believe it. Mr. Cecil had knocked hard enough to get Seth Ravenwood to come to church. My mouth fell open.
Bianca’s father approached her and lightly cupped her chin. “Mr. Cecil’s right, Bianca, you can’t speak to Genevieve—Mrs. Piper—in that manner.” Bianca turned her head. He moved his hands, resting his thumbs on her cheekbones, looking into her eyes. Her lower lip trembled. “It’s okay,” her father’s voice was tender as he pulled her to him.
People joined hands to pray, forming a circle around Bianca and her father. Bianca glared at them through tear-dampened hair. “Stop it,” she spewed.
Lenni and I exchanged concerned glances and rose to our feet. We took slow steps toward the church.
Amy, Saul, Kim, and the other kids filed from the bus, weaving in with people praying for Bianca. She covered her ears and struggled to break free of her father’s arms. He readjusted his grip, holding her tightly, stroking her hair.
“No! Not here. Let go of me. I hate you!” Bianca balled her hands and pounded his chest, her punches growing slower and weaker until her fists uncurled, palms resting motionless against him. “She left. I hate her for leaving me. I prayed for her to come back, but she didn’t. I wanted to die and be with Sam. I still do. I prayed for it to happen, but it didn’t. I prayed for you to quit drinking and nothing happened. Nothing at all. I don’t need a powerless God. I have my own power. People respect me. They fear me…” Bianca’s words hitched on her breath.
“I’m sorry.” Her father’s voice broke as he held her. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you after Sam died, after your mom…went away. I miss them too. I miss them so much.” He swayed, rocking Bianca in his arms.
Bianca shuddered as raw, brokenhearted wails tore from her. Her back quivered and her long, layered skirt rippled as if blown by the wind.
Invisible. Visible.
Inside the church’s glass doors, Pastor Jacobs and Mr. Piper stood blinking out at the scene. Seth gently pulled Bianca away from the doors. The men walked outside, their expressions bewildered.
“Seems that while you were having Sunday morning prayer inside the church, God showed up outside.” Mrs. Piper rested her head against Mr. Piper’s shoulder and watched Seth Ravenwood hold his daughter, tears sliding from his closed eyes. The congregation continued to pray softly for a few moments then slowly entered the building. Seth put his arm around Bianca’s waist. She hesitated in the doorway, head down.
Lenni stopped walking. My elbow brushed her trembling arm as I adjusted my bag. She stared at Bianca and Seth, hands clasped over her mouth, tears coursing down her cheeks.
“Lenni, go to her.”
She shook her head.
“You’re her best friend. Her only friend.”
Lenni took two halting steps forward then ran to Bianca, throwing her arms around her neck. Bianca returned her embrace. My vision blurred as they walked through the doors together.
Mrs. Piper caught my hand as I stepped up beside her. “You sit with Mr. Piper and me.”
“Okay, thanks,” I said, blinking tears away.
People filed into the pews as the pastor stepped to the pulpit. Bianca sat a few rows ahead of me, between her father and Lenni.
“Welcome,” Pastor Jacobs said, gaze sweeping the congregation. “My, what a magnificent group of people we have gathered today to worship the Lord. I would like to ask a very special guest to the piano. Please, turn to page two hundred and thirty-eight in your hymnals.” He looked at Seth. “Mr. Ravenwood, would you do us this great honor?”
Patty Francis left her keyboard and slinked to a chair on the platform. She rested her jaw on her fist and glared at Seth. I got the feeling she didn’t want to share the spotlight.
Seth slipped from the pew and stepped briskly up the platform stairs. He slid onto the piano bench, picked up a hymnal, and turned the pages. After flexing his fingers a few times, he lowered them to the keys. “Whispering Hope,” he read aloud. He jerked his gaze up and down the rows of people then settled his eyes on the music. I held my breath and glanced sideways. Mrs. Piper seemed to be holding hers, too.
Slowly, he stroked the keys, filling the sanctuary with a sound that scattered all the noise from my mind. My chin dropped as smoke rolled from the keys, ascending, catching in the light of the stained glass windows. The music swelled, growing steadily stronger until I realized it was not smoke, but dust that drifted up. I grinned, delighted by the illusion. I glanced at
Mrs. Piper, smiling as she sang.
The song ended. The congregation applauded enthusiastically, praising God as Seth Ravenwood smiled, his face lifted heavenward, eyes closed. Even Patty Francis stood to her feet on the platform and thanked the Lord.
Seth took his seat next to Bianca. She leaned over and kissed his cheek.
Pastor Jacobs returned to the pulpit. “Thank you so much, Seth, for blessing us with your wonderful gift.”
I rifled through my bag and removed both Bibles. “Lenni,” I whispered over the rows.
“Allow me.” Mrs. Piper slid the speckled Bible from my hand and tapped the person in front of her. “Could you pass this to the pretty blonde with the hairclip, please?” she whispered.
“Sure.” The woman took the Bible and passed it forward.
Lenni smiled at me over her shoulder when the Bible reached her hands. “Thank you,” she mouthed, her face glowing.
“Open your Bibles and turn to Second Timothy, chapter one, verse seven,” Pastor Jacobs instructed. “For God hath not given us a spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.”
My breath caught.
* * *
“Molly, wait!” Lenni jogged to where I stood visiting with Greg and Sandy after the service. She grabbed me in a bear hug. “Isn’t it wonderful? I still can’t believe it. Yesterday I thought I’d lost my best friend—” She threw a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.
“Lenni, it’s fine.” I couldn’t help but giggle at her expression. “I know Bianca is your best friend,” I said, squelching a minuscule jealous twinge.
“But so are you, Molly.”
“Yes. But you and Bianca have a history. She’s practically your sister.” I smiled. “So it’s okay. Finish your sentence.”
Lenni frowned. “I forgot what I was going to say.” She bounced her palm off her forehead. “Oh, yeah, I remember. I thought I’d lost Bianca forever, and now I feel we can be even better friends than before. Molly, I get to meet her mother. We’re going to Sugar Creek Manor. Mr. Cecil is driving us to Bianca’s, and then her dad is borrowing his brother’s car.”
“That’s great, Len. I’m glad everything is working out.” I fished in my bag and retrieved her lip gloss, holding it out to her.
“Thanks. I’ll get the rest of my stuff from your house later.” She hugged me again, lighter this time, and then jogged to where Bianca and her father stood waiting for Mr. Cecil. Bianca looked at me. I smiled. She shifted her eyes away, which wasn’t the same as rolling them. I was encouraged.
“Bye, Mr. and Mrs. Piper.” I waved as I crossed the parking lot.
“So glad you could come, Molly,” Mrs. Piper said. “Do you need a ride home?”
“No, thanks. It’s a pretty day, I’d like to walk.”
“It certainly is. See you tomorrow.”
Panic flooded my soul. What if I didn’t see her tomorrow? What if Bianca followed through with the threats?
God has not given us a spirit of fear…
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I hesitated outside the door of the creative writing classroom. For the first time, Mrs. Piper wasn’t there to celebrate my arrival. I peeked through the doorway. Mrs. Benson, Kit’s mother, sat behind Mrs. Piper’s desk, her purple dress blending into the wall.
“Hi, Mrs. Benson,” I greeted her weakly as I took my seat.
“Hello, Maggie,” she said, adjusting her bifocals.
“It’s Molly—but that’s okay.” Unease washed over me. “Where is Mrs. Piper?” I asked, my pulse quickening.
“She’s taking care of some business with Principal Parker.” She craned her neck, watching the door. “Don’t you be late, little Kitty,” she mumbled, and then examined her watch.
Kitty must have been her pet name for Kit. I was too worried to snicker.
Kids filed into the classroom, each throwing the sub a curious glance. She didn’t seem to notice, staring through them into the hallway, eyes searching.
“Hi, Molly,” Amy said as she entered. She slid into the desk behind mine. I swiveled around.
“Mrs. Benson said Mrs. Piper is in Mr. Parker’s office.”
“Yeah, I saw her headed that way earlier. Hey, wasn’t that amazing, at church yesterday morning?”
I barely heard her.
“Molly?” Amy touched my elbow. “Are you okay?”
“What?”
“Are you alright?”
“I don’t feel well.” I mopped my forehead with the back of my hand, turned around, and laid my head on my desk.
The tardy bell sounded.
“You’re late, young man!” Mrs. Benson shrieked, silencing the room. I lifted my head. Kit slipped to his desk, head down, cheeks and ears glowing. Mrs. Benson stared, her fiery gaze enlarged behind bifocals. I hoped Kit wouldn’t catch on fire like an ant through a magnifying glass in the sun.
“Sorry,” he huffed, slumping, tracing the scratches on his desktop with his fingernail.
I clunked my head back down, ears ringing. Mrs. Benson passed out our warm-ups. Mind on autopilot, I answered the questions.
We passed our papers to the front. Amy complimented Mrs. Benson’s dress and she said she’d bought it at a garage sale. Kit ducked his head even lower, his ears turning a deeper shade of red.
My eyes flicked to the clock every few seconds as Kit’s mother told stories about his childhood. I bounced my knees and chewed the inside of my cheek, agonizing over what might be happening in Mr. Parker’s office.
The doorknob jiggled, causing my insides to do the same. “Sorry I’m late, class.” Mrs. Piper sailed into the classroom like a butterfly on a breeze.
Relief poured through me like ointment, melting my muscles. I could breathe again.
“Mr. Parker needed to talk to me about covering after-school detention for Mrs. George this week.” She raised her eyebrows. “So be good, all of you. I don’t want to see any of you in my detention room.”
“Hear that, Kitty? You’d better be on time for the rest of the day.” Mrs. Benson glared at Kit from Mrs. Piper’s desk.
“Thank you so much for covering my class, Mrs. Benson.” Mrs. Piper smiled and circled the desk, standing beside her.
“I’ll be in the office making copies if anyone needs me.” She looked hard at Kit then shuffled out the door.
* * *
“Guess who?”
“Hi, Lenni,” I said, spinning the dial with her hands over my eyes.
“How do you do that?”
“Amazingly, your voice sounds exactly the same with my eyes closed.”
“Not that. How do you know the combination with your eyes covered?”
“You think I forget the combination just because I can’t see?”
“I mean, how do you know where the numbers are?”
“I do it so often, I just know. Kind of like you putting on mascara without a mirror.”
“Oh, I get it. That makes sense.”
“So, how’d it go in Hopeford yesterday?” I asked as we walked to the cafeteria.
“Sad. I wanted to tell you this morning, on the way to school, but it was too hard to talk and run at the same time.”
“Yeah, sorry. Mom felt really bad about that. She kept apologizing between hurls. She was fine, and then all of a sudden she was throwing up on her shoes.”
The lunch line was understandably short as we waited for doses of macaroni casserole and canned peaches.
“So, Hopeford was sad?”
“Yes. Bianca’s mother, Jocelyn, doesn’t know her at all. She doesn’t recognize Seth either, but he pretends like it doesn’t bother him. It’s sweet. He tells her stories of things Bianca and Sam did when they were babies, and asks if she remembers.”
“What does she look like?” Such a superficial question. I felt a twinge of guilt for asking.
“Gorgeous. And with no makeup. Imagine Bianca with charcoal eyes and straight hair, black as night except for one white strip on the side.” Lenni picked up a section of
hair from her right temple, helping me visualize. “Bianca’s dad said it turned white after Sam died. The nurses keep her hair in a bun, but Seth takes it down and brushes it every time he visits.”
“How often is that?”
“Whenever he can find a ride. He’s laid off, but does odd jobs to make money for cab fare. He borrows his brother’s car when he’s short on cash. Bianca said he’s going to try and find another full-time job, now that he’s quit drinking.”
“He stopped drinking?”
“Bianca texted late last night and said he was pouring all of his bottles down the drain. He was crying and praying. After, he talked to her about his plans to find a job. She really wants to support him and help him stay sober.”
“Is he going to continue coming to church?” I asked.
“He says he will. He hopes to keep playing the piano, maybe share the platform with the keyboardist.”
“Will Bianca come with him?” I asked, torn, hoping she would come for her own sake, but still not sure I wanted her there.
“She said she’d do whatever it takes for her dad to get better. If she thinks church will help him, she’ll come.”
We took our trays, mine yellow and splotched, like a rotting banana. Finding a table was easy in the near-empty cafeteria. I skipped the macaroni and went straight for the peaches.
“So, is it weird for you? I mean, now that Bianca isn’t a witch?”
“Witcha’be,” she said, smiling.
“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
Lenni fished a crumpled scrap of paper from her front pocket. “Pseudologia fantastica,” she read in a hushed voice. “That’s what Bianca suffers from. I searched it on the Internet first period. It’s what happens when people make up myths and stories to mask the pain of what is really going on in their lives.” She stuffed the note back into her pocket. “It will take some getting used to, me thinking of her as normal. She was very convincing. I’ve believed her story for a long time. Maybe I should’ve been more ob—
what’s the word?”
“Observant?”
“Yeah.”
Second Bestie (Redbend High Book 1) Page 14