I spear a pea with my fork and place it on my tongue. I chew once then swallow and spear a second pea.
“Okay, Abby.” Nick’s eyes lock on mine. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m fine, Nick.” My voice sounds irritated even to my own ears. “Tell us about the Dorothy Day House. What’s it like?”
Mom and Nick exchange one of their long looks, then Mom blows out another breath. The sound grates on my nerves but I bite my tongue. I’m sick of being angry. I just want out of this hellhole that is homeless life and to be normal again.
“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised,” Mom says. “From the street, it doesn’t even look like a homeless shelter. In fact, it matches every other house in the neighborhood. The best part is they have showers and washing machines.”
Despite myself, my lips turn up. It’s only been a week since I’ve had a real shower, but the idea of the hot, sudsy water streaming over my body lifts my spirits. Funny how having almost nothing makes you appreciate the small things. It might as well be Christmas morning for the excitement tingling under my skin.
“Thank God!” I say. “I can’t wait to take a real shower again.”
“It’s a lifesaver for sure—at least for the next two weeks,” Nick says.
My eyebrows draw together. “We’ll have our own place in another two weeks, won’t we?”
“I don’t know. We’ll need enough money to cover first- and last-month’s rent, not to mention utilities. The part-time jobs are a good start, but your mom and I will need to find full-time jobs soon or it’ll take forever to put enough money together.”
“I can sell my paintings,” Amber offers, referring to the artwork she creates every day at the library.
Nick ruffles her hair. “I’ll let you know if it comes to that, baby.”
“Are we going to be okay?” I ask.
Nick stares at his tray, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “It’ll be tight, but we’ll be fine. We bought a cheap cell phone today for job callbacks, so that set us back some. We’ll have to be careful—walk where we can, eat where it’s free, and don’t use any more gas than necessary.”
I do the math in my head—we must be down to around fifty dollars or less. Please let us get out of this mess soon.
NICK GUIDES US through a side door of the brown and white two-story house that will be our home for the next two weeks. He stops at a desk and scrawls our names into a thick register, then smiles at the woman behind the desk. “Hi. Nick and Claire Lunde with our children, Abby and Amber—we checked in earlier but needed to get the girls and bring them back?”
The woman sits on a bar stool behind the desk. Her shoulder-length gray hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, and she smiles warmly at Nick’s introduction. “Come in, please. I’m Jennie. Since you’ve already checked in, I assume you’ve been shown your rooms?”
“Yes,” Mom says. “They gave us a single room with four beds, but said it was unusual to put us all together?”
“Yes,” Jennie says. “For obvious reasons, we normally split the men and women, but we’re at capacity for men and I remember you checking in. The staff discussed it and decided it was ridiculous to turn your husband away when we have a room with four beds and no other woman to take that last bed. Since you’re a family, we made an exception.”
“Thank you,” Nick says. “We appreciate it.”
“It’s our pleasure.” She turns to Amber and me, her expression serious. “We don’t get many children, so we have one important rule and I need you girls to pay close attention. You must stay with a parent at all times. Our guests are mostly safe—and there’s always a volunteer on site—but it’s for your protection. Please don’t wander off on your own. Do you understand?”
Amber and I assure her we do. She studies us a moment then nods and leads us up a flight of stairs to the second floor and into the third room on the left. Inside is a sparsely furnished bedroom with four narrow beds. The room is small, but there’s enough space to navigate in and out. I select the bed farthest from the door and take a seat. The mattress is neither too firm nor too soft, but every movement causes a creaking of the springs.
“There are two showers, one for men and one for women, and they’re marked accordingly.” Jennie points to two doors in the hall. “Please make your showers short—not more than about five minutes. The hot water tank is small and everyone wants a hot shower.”
She leads us down a second set of steps that end outside a small living room. The furniture is dated, but the room is tidy. Even the television is one of those old box styles that weighs about a hundred pounds. It reminds me of an elderly person’s home—a grandma, maybe—and I keep expecting someone to offer me cookies and milk.
Around the room are a handful of men and women, some watching television, some in conversation, and others just enjoying the atmosphere of a home, maybe for the first time in recent memory. Jennie doesn’t allow us much time to consider them, as she picks up her tour and demands our attention.
“This is our main living room,” she says. “It has a television with local channels, and there’s a second TV in the basement. Feel free to change channels, but please be respectful of each other and share the remote.”
Jennie opens a door off the living room that I’ve mistaken for a closet, then leads us down a straight flight of stairs into a finished basement. It’s cooler down here with a slightly damp odor, but the room is larger than the one upstairs and equally as tidy. Besides the promised second TV, it also hosts a pool table and several card tables, some with half-solved puzzles. An older woman in a faded purple velour tracksuit sits at one table and plays a game of solitaire. She glances at us then turns her attention back to her game. Besides us, she’s the only person in the room.
Jennie opens a door to our left. “In here are three washers and dryers. I recommend using the signup sheet on the wall to reserve your spot. It looks open now, so you might put your name on the list before it fills up.”
Mom glances at the signup and picks a time. With the tour over, we follow Jennie up to the main floor and make our way back to our room.
“You showering first?” Nick asks me.
“Can I?”
He shrugs. “Might as well.”
A smile spreads across my face. I’m sure I appear giddy, but I don’t care. I’ve had a crap day, and this is the best thing to happen in a while. I set off toward the shower with Nick standing guard by the door, while Mom takes Amber down to the laundry to start our wash.
In the bathroom, I turn the shower as hot as I can stand it and enjoy the water’s spray. I lather from head to toe, then rinse and lather a second time. I know I’m only supposed to spend five minutes, but—just this once—I cheat by a few extra minutes, promising myself it’ll be the only time.
When I finish, Mom and Amber take the shower together while Nick and I watch the laundry, then Nick showers last before heading out to work. By the time he finishes, there’s a line of residents waiting at both bathroom doors.
It’s now a few minutes after eleven and I smother a yawn.
“Why don’t you go to bed,” Mom suggests. “I’ll wait up for Nick.”
I want to wait up for him, but I’m exhausted. When I’m hit with another yawn, I take Mom’s suggestion and crawl under the covers. I pull the blankets high over my head and snuggle deep into the bed’s warmth where I fall asleep almost immediately.
For the first time in a week, I sleep soundly. There are no bright lights peeking through the windows; the room is kept at a perfect temperature; and my bed, though old and creaky, is more comfortable than anything I can remember. And even though I wake up once to the sound of Nick’s chainsaw snoring, my only feeling is relief that he’s made it back safely.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I NEVER THOUGHT I’D SAY IT, BUT I’M THANK-FUL TO CALL A HOMELESS SHELTER “HOME.” IT’S NOT FANCY, and there a
re a few sketchy people who stay here with us, but it’s clean and the volunteers are nice. And it sure beats living out of Mom’s van!
Each day our housemates change, as those whose time has expired move out and others move in. As warned, Amber and I are the only kids.
Besides a warm bed and meals, the best thing to come out of staying here is new shoes for Amber. On the third day after we arrived, Jennie spotted Amber limping and insisted upon knowing why. When she realized the problem, she showed us a storage closet filled with donations from the community. There she directed Amber to pick out a new pair of shoes. I was ashamed at the extra charity, but not Amber—she’s now the proud second owner of pink canvas high-tops in nearly new condition. Though they’re a bit too wide for her narrow feet, the length is better and she once again walks without discomfort.
Now for the bad news: our money is almost gone. Though we walk almost everywhere, Nick insists on driving us to school because it’s the farthest distance in one shot, and he’s adamant we arrive on time. He reminds us, “An education is your ticket out of poverty.”
With all the walking, we’re certainly getting our exercise. From the high school to the library is two miles, broken up by my paper route in between. Then from the library to the Dorothy Day House is another half mile. If I kept a log, I’m sure it would reflect at least five miles a day, not including the normal walking everyone does.
At school, things are better—except for Trish. Though I’ve done my best to avoid her, there’s no escaping her in my history class, where she spends every hour shooting daggers at me or grinning as though she knows my darkest secrets. Thankfully, I’m making friends and kids have begun greeting me much the same as they did Zach that first day. It’s now Thursday, and I slide into my seat seconds before the bell rings to start chemistry.
“Made it.” I say just loud enough for Josh and Scott to hear.
Since meeting through Zach, Scott and I have become friends and I usually manage to find a seat between him and Josh in our chem class.
“Just barely,” Scott jokes. “That’s twice this week. What’s your excuse today?”
“Zach,” I say.
“Ah-gain.” Scott laughs. “You ready for Homecoming?”
“I think so. You’re still going with Trish?”
“Yeah.” He studies his hands for a moment before looking back up at me. “Look, I’m sorry for the way she acted the other day. I don’t know what got into her, but I promise to keep her in check.”
“Zach will kill you if you don’t,” Josh interjects.
“Fact,” Scott agrees.
“It’s okay—it’s not your fault,” I tell Scott.
He opens his mouth to respond, but Ms. Burke demands our attention and begins her lecture. As hard as I try to pay attention, I can’t. Butterflies float in my stomach.
“What’s wrong with you, Ariel?” Josh says, as we work with Scott on the day’s group assignment. “You’re never this off-kilter. Get your head in the game!”
“I’m sorry. I’m just nervous.”
“Why?” Scott asks.
“Today’s her audition for Mrs. Miner,” Josh explains.
Scott’s forehead crinkles. “That’s today? I forgot. What time?”
“Fifth period,” I groan.
“Dang. I’d love to come watch, but I have a class.”
“Skip it,” Josh says. “That’s what a bunch of us are doing.”
“I might. It’s just art, and my project is almost done.”
“You’re in art?” I snort out a laugh.
Red heat moves up Scott’s neck to his forehead. “Yes—and no, I’m not an artist. I needed a fine arts credit and it was that or pottery.”
I glance at his large hands and smother another giggle at the image of him forming tiny clay pots. With effort, I force my attention back to our assignment, and we work wordlessly for the remainder of the class.
“YOU READY?”
I zip my bag closed and stare up into Zach’s dark eyes. His smile is warm and my heart beats a staccato as it does every time I see him. I’ve read sappy romance novels where the heroine pinches herself to confirm she’s not dreaming, and I’ve always thought it was stupid, but at this moment, I get it—I feel like pinching myself. I don’t have to, though, because Zach leans down and touches his lips to mine in the briefest peck of a kiss. This is definitely real. I offer him a smile as he takes my bag.
“For lunch, or for my audition?” I ask.
Zach slips his hand into mine. “Both.”
“Hm…” I tap a finger on my top lip. “For lunch? I’m starving. For the audition? Can we just skip it?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be there, and Josh said he’s going.” Turning to Josh he asks, “Are Tera and Wendy coming?”
Josh shakes his head. “They can’t. They’ve got Marshall for English and she’s giving a test today.”
“So, I guess it’s just us. Are you coming?” Zach asks Scott.
“I was thinking about it. I’ll see if I can talk Mrs. Williams into letting me out of art.”
“I’ll save you a seat, just in case,” Zach tells him.
“Thanks, man!”
We enter the cafeteria and the butterflies in my stomach swarm as if fighting an all-out war. Though I’m hungry, my main concern is not throwing up. I select a plain turkey sandwich and chew slowly, desperately trying to forget my audition in an hour. I swallow my last bite and Josh bumps my shoulder with his own, nearly tossing me into Zach’s lap. I glare at him. “What the hell, Josh?”
He shrugs. “You need to get out of your head, Ariel.”
“I’m not in my head. I’m minding my own business, eating my sandwich.”
“Right.” He stretches the word out. “What were you thinking just before I bumped you?”
My face flushes.
“I knew it,” he says. “Get the hell out of your head and think of something else.”
“Leave her alone,” Zach interjects. “She’s nervous, but she’ll be alright.”
“Yeah,” Wendy charges. “You try putting yourself up in front of the entire school, with all eyes watching you.”
I groan. Way to get me out of my head, Wendy.
“That’s right!” Tera interjects. “You’re one to talk, Josh. Remember in third grade when you did that speech for Mrs. Ellison’s class, and you got so scared you peed your pants?”
“I never—” Josh begins.
“Oh yes, you did!” Zach interrupts. “All you had to do was stand up and recite the Pledge of Allegiance by yourself, but you peed your pants. I can’t believe I’d forgotten that!”
Josh flushes. “I spilled my milk in my lap.”
“Right.” Wendy rolls her eyes. “Because the milk carton magically floated off the tray, poured down your pants, then gently set itself back in its normal spot without anyone noticing.”
Josh sputters. His face is purple, and I’m laughing so hard tears spill onto my cheeks. Wendy and Tera smile at each other and share a fist bump.
The bell rings, a shrill screech alerting me my time is up. I close my eyes and take a breath while Zach takes our trays to the tray return. My moment of meditation is interrupted when Josh throws an arm around me and pulls me to his side.
“You’ve got this, Ariel,” he says. “And you owe me for taking one for the team.” His sapphire eyes twinkle—he did this on purpose, deviously setting himself up for humiliation to redirect my attention.
I throw my arms around his neck and whisper, “I love you, Walt.”
“I know you do, Ariel. Now, just in case, make a quick stop in the bathroom and then go kick ass!”
ZACH LEADS ME through the main door of a nearly packed auditorium. I had no idea there would be so many people, and I trip over my own feet and nearly fall to the floor.
“Whoa!” He catches me and pulls me close. “You okay?”
I breathe in the woodsy scent of his cologne and it calms me. “Yeah. I’m—don’t these people
have class or… something better to do?”
“Breathe, Abs.” He places an arm around me and leads me to a seat next to Josh.
I collapse into the seat and he takes the open chair on my other side. His palm covers my clenched fists, gently opening one before weaving his fingers between mine. My eyes meet his at the same moment he brings our hands to his lips and kisses my knuckles.
“Close your eyes and tune out everything but you and me and the song you’re going to sing,” he says.
I follow his direction and take deep, relaxing breaths. When my heart rate slows, I turn my attention back to him.
“You ready now?” he asks.
I swallow the knot in my throat and nod.
There are seven auditions in the lineup, and I’m third on the schedule. Though I want to be polite and give the others my attention, I can’t. The more I focus on my turn, the more my stomach revolts. I close my eyes again and concentrate on my breathing until I’ve blocked out everything around me.
Zach’s hand squeezes mine and my eyes flash open. He smiles, his expression encouraging. “You’re up, Abs.”
“Abby Lunde?” Mrs. Miner says, clearly not for the first time.
Panic charges through me and my heart pounds so hard I think it’s going to break a rib. I can’t do this!
“Hey.” Zach squeezes my hand again. “You’ve got this. Just go up there and do what you’ve practiced.”
“I can’t,” I whisper. “There’re too many people.”
“Close your eyes and pretend they’re not here. Or pretend you’re standing in my room. You can do it—I have faith in you.”
Josh squeezes my shoulder. “C’mon, Ariel. You’ve got this.”
I blow out a breath. “Okay—you guys are right. I’ve got this.”
Leaving Zach and Josh behind, I throw my shoulders back and meet Mrs. Miner onstage.
“Are you ready?” Her smile is welcoming.
I shake my head. “No, but here goes nothing.”
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