Roam

by C. H. Armstrong

  “Mankato, St. Cloud, and Eau Claire.”

  “Good.” She nods again. “One less thing to worry about—they’ll send the scores directly to the schools you listed. So, let’s get started.”

  I have three solos plus the one I selected with Zach. Mrs. Miner chooses two and I practice them three times each before she’s satisfied. Next she coaches me through my introduction, explaining she’ll add it to the video during editing. The only part she can’t edit are the solos themselves, and it takes about twenty tries before I get through both songs without mistakes. We finish about two minutes before the bell to change classes.

  Mrs. Miner presses stop on the recording. “I’ll take care of this. Now, you take the applications and talk to Mr. Thompson about a recommendation. See Ms. Raven if you have questions, otherwise return them Friday and we’ll get them mailed off.”

  “Thank you,” I say. “I really appreciate your help.”

  “It’s my pleasure.” She smiles. “Now scoot before you’re late for your next class.”

  “ZACH!” AMBER WEAVES between students, racing toward us at the end of her school day. Reaching us, she flies into Zach’s arms, wrapping her limbs around him like a spider monkey. “I’ve missed you!”

  “Oh yeah?” He grins. “I’ve missed you, too.”

  “Are you gonna deliver newspapers with us?”

  “We’ll see—I’ll give you a ride for sure.”

  “Can I sit in front this time?”

  “No you cannot,” I interrupt. “You’ll sit in back and wait with Zach while I go in. And don’t embarrass me this time. Got it?”

  Amber sighs. “Fine.”

  I smile and take her hand. “I’m sorry, Am. I’m just nervous. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  Amber’s eyes sparkle. “Does that mean I can sit in front?”

  “No,” I say, giving her a mock scowl.

  The drive only takes a few minutes, and Zach finds a parking spot right in front of the building. “Want me to go in with you?”

  I shake my head and open the passenger-side door. “No, but thanks anyway. I need to do this myself.”

  I draw in a deep breath then close my door and open the heavy glass doors of the newspaper building. Madigan guards the lobby as she did the day I was hired. I offer a tentative smile. “Hi, Madigan. Is Maris in?”

  Madigan scowls. “She’s not. Where’ve you been? You’ve been out three days.”

  My eyes drop and I study my cuticles. “I was sick.”

  “And you couldn’t call?”

  I open my mouth to respond, but I’m not sure what to say. Before I can find the words, she rolls her eyes and turns away from me.

  “Whatever. I have your check, but Bryan wants to talk to you.”

  I swallow hard and wait in the empty lobby for her return. Moments later, she reappears holding an envelope, with Bryan on her heels.

  “Abby.” Bryan’s eyes are piercing, displeased. “Want to step into my office?”

  My heart thuds and my stomach does a flip-flop. I draw a shallow breath and follow Bryan, taking the same seat I used when I interviewed.

  “Feel like telling me what’s going on, Abby?” he asks. “You missed three straight days without any word. Maris had to scramble to cover your route.”

  “I’m sorry, Bryan. I—”

  “This is completely unacceptable. Three days, Abby. What kind of work ethic is that? I suggest you examine your priorities.”

  “I’m really sorry,” I whisper. “I was sick until late last night.”

  His lips form a thin line. “And you couldn’t call?”

  “I tried, but I just got an answering machine. I didn’t know what to say,” I whisper.

  Bryan shrugs. “Not good enough. You’re a senior now, and you should have at least left a message instead of leaving us hanging.”

  “I’m sorry.” I stare at my hands.

  Bryan’s nostrils flare as he blows out a breath. “Thank you. I accept your apology, but I’m afraid your route has been assigned to someone else.”

  “So—I’m fired?”

  “Yes.” He nods. “I’m sorry, Abby.”

  I roll my lips inward and nod. There’s no point arguing. He’s angry and at least some of his anger is valid. I stand, my brain screaming all the things I want to say, but say instead, “Thanks, Bryan—for giving me a chance.” Tears sting the backs of my eyes and shame smothers me. “Is there anything else you need from me?”

  “No. I think we’re good.” Bryan stands and extends his hand. “I wish you luck, Abby.”

  We shake hands, but I can’t speak. I know if I try, the tears will never stop. With my head down, I clutch my paycheck to my chest and escape through the main lobby.

  ZACH’S CAR IS parked where I left him. I yank open the door and slam it shut once I’m seated.

  “Whoa! You okay?” He arches an eyebrow.

  Tears spill from my eyes and I wipe them away. “I’m fine. Can we just go?”

  “Yeah, okay. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No. I just want to go,” I snap. “Can you take us to the library?”

  “Sure. Mind if I tag along?”

  I shrug and stare out the passenger window. “I don’t care.”

  I don’t speak again on the drive to the library, and the only words I speak after we arrive are to remind Amber not to wander from the craft room. Zach disappears into another part of the library, leaving me alone with my thoughts in the Teen Room. I settle at a carrel and pull out my homework. I’ve barely worked three problems of my history homework when Zach returns with a handful of DVDs.

  “What’s that?” I ask, still sullen.

  “For Amber.”

  He flips over the top DVD, showing the cover.

  “What in the world?” I laugh at the Sylvester and Tweety Bird images.

  “For when you bring her over this weekend,” he explains. “I thought she’d enjoy them since she looks so much like Tweety Bird.”

  “Awww!” I stand and place my arms around Zach, laying my head on his chest. “That’s the sweetest thing ever!”

  His fingers tangle in my hair and he tugs my head back until I’m looking at him. “If I’d known all I needed to do for affection was to be nice to your sister, I’d’ve done it sooner.”

  I laugh and accept his kiss, my anger forgotten.

  “I gotta head home,” he says when we pull apart. “See you at school tomorrow?”

  I bite back a smile. “Not if I see you first.”

  “Ouch!” Zach taps my nose with his forefinger then says, this time like a command, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He leaves me standing next to my carrel, a much-needed smile on my face and my heart happier than it was only an hour ago.

  WE WAIT UNTIL Nick’s night shift at the church before returning. In the short time he’s worked there, he’s always found the church empty, so our odds of remaining undetected are good.

  “I want to show you something.” He leads us to the basement, but stops in the Senior High Sunday School Room. He opens the door and flips on the light. “What do you think?”

  I shrug. “I’ve seen it before. This is the room they use for youth group.”

  “Is that all you see?” Mom asks.

  Amber and I study the room—it’s a rainbow of colors, beginning with a plum-colored velvet couch, a second couch in black leather, and a yellow faux leather futon with six fabric cushions along the back with seats in red, green, and blue. The three pieces are arranged in a U-formation with the black sofa at its center facing the opposite wall, where an old-fashioned box television with a built-in DVD player occupies space next to an equally outdated tower stereo system. On both sides of the black sofa are twin white end tables with pink and purple lava lamps glowing on top of each. In the center of the room is a shag rug of primary colors made from mismatched carpet samples. The walls are painted sunshine yellow and decorated with posters containing inspirational quotes and reli
gious scriptures. It looks like a Crayola box threw up, yet it’s strangely welcoming.

  “I like it,” Amber says.

  Mom grins and turns her attention to me. “Abs?”

  “It’s colorful.” I shrug again. “But what am I supposed to see?”

  “Well,” Nick grins. “If there’s nobody in the building until early morning, then maybe we could sleep here instead of the storage room. It’ll be more comfortable. We could throw a blanket on the floor for Amber, or pull one of the cots from the storage room for her. What do you think?”

  “Yes!” Amber screeches. “Can we watch TV, too?”

  “One thing at a time,” Mom says.

  “But what about getting caught?” I ask.

  “We shouldn’t be careless, but we should be okay so long as we leave everything immaculate every morning when we leave. Wanna give it a try?”

  Amber hops from one foot to the other. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

  I don’t have to answer—Amber’s answered for both of us. Instead I smile and plop down on the futon. “I call dibs on this one.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  IT’S BEEN ELEVEN DAYS SINCE WE MADE OUR HOME IN THE BASEMENT OF EVANGEL EPISCOPAL CHURCH. Each morning we rise by four thirty and stow our belongings in a cardboard box in the supply closet, then clean up meticulously before the daycare workers arrive between six thirty and six forty-five. Though the first few days were scary, we’ve settled into a pattern. We shower in the locker rooms, cook in the kitchen adjacent to the gym when we can’t eat at the Salvation Army, and use the daycare’s washer and dryer to do laundry. The church is creepy at night, but we stay together and almost feel normal again.

  “Daddy’s here,” Amber calls through the library’s bathroom door where I’ve been primping for the last twenty minutes.

  “Okay. Tell him I’m almost ready,” I say.

  The door closes and I take one last look at myself in the mirror, studying my black knee-length skirt and white rayon blouse with flared sleeves. The shoes are white-on-black strappy heels with an open toe. The ensemble is compliments of Tera’s and Wendy’s closets. The Fall Concert starts in an hour and butterflies sword-fight in my stomach.

  I push a lock of hair behind my ear and fluff my long waves. With one last glance in the mirror, I pull in a breath and step out of the bathroom. Here goes nothing!

  “Wow!” Amber’s eyes pop wide. “You look beautiful.”

  I smooth an invisible wrinkle on my skirt. “Ya think?”

  “Uh-huh.” She nods. “Like a movie star.”

  She might be only six, but her words lend me confidence. “Thanks, Am. You ready?”

  “Uh-huh.” Amber grins and takes my hand, leading me toward the exit doors where Mom and Nick wait in the van. “You’ve got this, Sister.”

  THE DRIVE TO the high school is quiet, allowing me to practice my solos in my head. When we arrive, the lot is packed with cars—far more than on a normal school day. Nick stops at the front door, letting Mom, Amber and me out.

  “Go ahead in,” he says. “I’ll park and catch you inside.”

  “Thanks, Nick,” I say, knowing I won’t see him again before I perform.

  “No problem, kiddo. Break a leg.”

  I close the van door and follow Mom and Amber into the foyer. “I gotta get ready,” I say. “See you later?”

  Mom nods. “Go ahead. We’ll wait here for Nick. Good luck.”

  Amber throws her arms around my waist. “Bye, Sister!”

  “I’m only going onstage for an hour,” I say.

  “I know,” she says. “But I don’t want you to forget me when you’re famous.”

  I give her a squeeze and let go. “Never! I only have one sister.”

  Amber beams as I leave her behind and head toward the backstage area. Waiting for me, Zach scrolls through messages on his iPhone. He’s leaned against a cinder block wall with one long leg propped behind him. I clear my throat and his phone is forgotten.

  “Wow!” he says. “You look—wow!”

  I do a slow twirl. “You like?”

  “I do! Are you ready?”

  I blow out a breath. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

  “You’re beautiful, Abs.” He takes my hand. “You’re gonna knock ’em dead.”

  “Thanks—I needed to hear that.”

  Zach steps forward and rests his forehead against mine. “You can do this.”

  I close my eyes and swallow hard. “Okay. I can do this.”

  He leans in and kisses me, just a touch of the lips, and then pulls back. “That’s for luck.” He smiles, then leans in a second time, this time allowing his lips to linger.

  All thoughts fly out of my head until the only thing I can think about is Zach and the feel of his lips on mine. Before I’m ready, he ends the kiss and pulls away again.

  I open my eyes. “What was that one for?”

  He grins. “That one was for me.”

  “Are you freakin’ kidding me?” Josh teases as he approaches us with Wendy and Tera. “Seriously, guys, you disgust me.”

  “Or make you jealous,” Tera says.

  “Yeah, that too,” he says.

  “We’re just going in,” I say. “I’m glad you came!”

  Josh pulls me into a hug, sweeping me off my feet and around in a circle. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world, Ariel!”

  “Hey! She’s mine,” Zach teases. “Get your own.”

  “Yeah?” Josh lifts a challenging eyebrow. “Well—I saw her first.”

  “Yeah?” Zach puffs out his chest. “Well—you bat for the other team.”

  “Damn.” Josh laughs and sets me on my feet. “Good point!”

  “Okay, guys,” I interrupt. “If you’re done comparing testosterone levels, we gotta go.”

  Zach snorts and throws an arm around me. “Really, Abs…there’s no comparison.”

  “Zach!” I elbow him and he lets out a gush of air. “That’s not nice.”

  “No worries.” Josh laughs. “In a fight between myself and Gaston over here, he may have more testosterone but I’ve got more charm—and charm trumps braggadocio every time.”

  “Ouch!” Zach laughs.

  “Burn!” Tera and Wendy say together.

  I pull a straight face but a smile still teases my lips. “C’mon you guys. Zach and I are gonna be late. See you after?”

  “You know it,” Wendy says.

  “Break a leg,” Tera adds.

  Josh grins. “We’ll see you on the flip side, Ariel. And Gaston?” he says to Zach with a lift of one eyebrow, “Your good looks and testosterone might pull in the ladies, but charm is key to keeping them—or the gents, whichever you prefer.”

  Zach laughs and bumps fists with Josh. “Thanks for the tip, man.”

  I roll my eyes and pull Zach along with me. “Later, you guys!”

  The moment we enter the stage, my stomach flip-flops like an elite gymnast. I roll my shoulders and let go of the tension.

  “Hey.” Zach squeezes my hand. “You’re gonna be fine.”

  “Yeah.” I take another breath and let it out slowly. “I’m gonna be fine.”

  He brings our joined hands to his lips and kisses the back of mine. “Let’s go.”

  Zach leaves me with the choir and takes his seat beside the piano. Moments later, the lights dim and Mrs. Miner takes the stage.

  “Welcome, families and friends!” she begins. “I’m happy to see so much support for our talented students, and I thank you for coming. We have an exciting treat for you this evening, so get comfortable and enjoy the performance!”

  The audience applauds and Mrs. Miner ascends the podium, her conductor’s wand in hand. She smiles and offers the chorus a wink, then counts under her breath so only we can hear. She cues the piano player.

  The first two songs fly by and I’m next up with my first short solo. It’s only a few lines and backed up by the chorus, so I don’t miss a beat. I’m totally in the moment without a single t
hought for the audience. Adrenaline races through me, but not out of fear. Instead, I’m elated. Keaton’s voice joins with mine, and we sing song after song together, then with the entire chorus, then independently as soloists.

  Nearly a full hour goes by and the program has only two remaining selections: Keaton’s choice solo followed by mine. I focus on Keaton as he takes the stage, his deep baritone ringing through the auditorium. For the next three minutes, he holds the audience spellbound. At song’s end, he drops his last note and takes a deep bow. When he rises, the auditorium erupts into deafening cheers. My voice joins with others as we stand and offer praise for his stunning performance.

  “Thank you, Keaton!” Mrs. Miner says into the microphone. “For our last performance tonight, please allow me to introduce you to Abby Lunde. Abby is new to Rochester South this year, and has been a wonderful addition to our vocal music department, bringing with her an exceptional talent that every music teacher hopes to find. Tonight is her debut as a solo performer, and she’s a little nervous. So let’s help put her at ease and give a warm welcome for Abby Lunde as she performs for you Adele’s ‘All I Ask.’”

  Oh shit! I’m up!

  The audience cheers and my knees rattle against each other. Bile rises, but I breathe in and out slowly, pushing it away. As silence swallows the room, I stand and approach center stage.

  A blinding light pours down on me, its heat scalding. Though I can’t see the audience, I know they’re out there. My brain freezes. I close my eyes and meditate ten seconds, but it doesn’t help. My eyes flash to Zach’s.

  Help!

  He stands. Wrapping one hand around the neck of his guitar, he curls the other around the seat of a tall stool and approaches me. He reaches my side and sets the stool down, leaning his guitar against it. He steps close to me and lifts the microphone from the stand, placing it in my hand and wrapping my fingers around it. “Breathe.”

  Our eyes meet and his confidence seeps into me. I nod as he leans down and kisses my cheek. Then, with a gallant bow, he steps away and takes a seat atop the stool as though his every step was practiced for precision.

  I breathe deeply, this time with my diaphragm. Bringing the microphone to my mouth, I wait for the opening strains of Zach’s guitar. When it’s time for my entrance, I open my throat and allow my voice free rein, forcing myself to forget I’m Abby Lunde, homeless girl. In this moment, I’m confident, talented, and respected. A sense of peace settles over me, and my confidence soars until everything feels so “right” I never want to leave the stage. This is my moment and I wish it could last forever.