Roam

by C. H. Armstrong

  I pause, understanding Ms. Raven is limited in what she can say, but I push anyway. “I heard Trish might get expelled—or at least suspended—and also that she’s applied to Juilliard. Could she still get accepted with that on her record?”

  “I don’t know, but that’s not something you need to worry about. You’re not responsible for Trish’s actions and, if her punishment is that severe, then it’s a good learning experience.”

  I nod. “Okay. I guess. But can I just say one more thing?”

  “Go ahead,” Ms. Raven says. “But I won’t guarantee I can answer.”

  “I know I should be happy to see Trish punished. I mean, she’s been awful to me since I came here. But…” I pause and search for the right words. “Well, I know what it’s like to have everything taken away from you, and also what it’s like to be the outcast. I don’t like Trish, but I don’t want to see something like Juilliard taken away from her. I mean, it seems like a really harsh penalty.”

  “I see. Unfortunately, it’s not my decision, but I’ll mention your concerns to Mr. Bartlett.”

  “Thanks.”

  Ms. Raven studies me until I squirm. “You’re an unusual girl, Abby. And I mean that in a good way. You’re far more empathetic than most girls your age. I don’t know of another student who would be thinking about Trish right now instead of her own worries. In fact, most students would be screaming for her punishment.”

  “Yeah. Well…” I shrug. “I’m not sure what it proves to take away her chance at everything she’s worked for, even if she is rude and doesn’t deserve it. What if Juilliard is her path to greatness? If I’m somehow responsible for taking that opportunity away from her, I’m not sure I could live with myself. You know?”

  “I do. And I thank you for your empathy. So!” she says, changing the subject. “Back to you. Are you doing okay, Abby? Do you need anything? Where are you staying?”

  I assure Ms. Raven we’re fine and explain about the interfaith hospitality and meals at the Salvation Army.

  “I’m relieved to hear it,” she says. “You know you can come to me at any time. I can’t fix everything, but I’ll give it my best shot.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “Okay, then.” Ms. Raven stands. “If there’s nothing you need, I’ll let you go. Just remember where my office is. The door is always open.”

  TRISH IS ABSENT from school for three days and the teachers are tight-lipped. Nobody knows what happened or whether she was punished, but when she returns, she seems like a different person. Gone is the arrogance and supercilious behavior, and in its place is a much-subdued Trish who avoids me completely. She’s even been moved out of my history class, leaving our only interactions at passing time—and even then she keeps her head down.

  With my secret out, I’m free to spend more time with Zach. In the following weeks, we study together after school and even go on a few real dates. Most nights, though, we just watch movies at his house or with the other families at whichever church is hosting us. Though our living situation is still unique, it’s a huge improvement and I’m optimistic things will only get better.

  Maybe the best news is that Nick finally has a job. Jim Kaspar put in a good word for him with the owner of Hamilton’s Chrysler, calling him personally to recommended Nick for the job. After an interview with Mr. Hamilton himself, Nick was offered a position in new car sales. Though he’s never worked on commission before, Mr. Hamilton is gambling that Nick’s overall knowledge under the hood will translate well to the sales floor. He’s finished out his first week and reports he not only enjoys the customer interaction, but he’s sold two cars and his manager thinks he shows promise. He’s still not making the six-sale minimum before commission kicks in, but it’s a start.

  With Mom and Nick now both employed, we’re finally on the road to normal. In the meantime, one of the transition homes owned by the combined churches has become vacant and, at Jim Kaspar’s recommendation, we’ve been approved and move in on December 28th. We’ll be in a real home in time for the New Year!

  It’s now two days before Christmas, and the last day of school before winter break. I’m studying Mr. Thompson’s newest reading assignment when a tap sounds on his classroom door. Standing there is Ms. Raven—I haven’t seen her since the day I returned after Trish’s social media post. Mr. Thompson leaves his desk and the two speak quietly. Now smiling, he turns back to the class.

  “Abby?” he says. “Ms. Raven would like to see you for a few minutes.”

  I glance at Zach and return his surprised frown. I can’t imagine what Ms. Raven needs with me this time. My stomach flip-flops, but I collect my books and meet her in the hall.

  “Don’t look so serious, Abby,” she teases. “It’s not bad.”

  I smile sheepishly. “I’m not used to getting called out of class, and I feel like I’ve done something wrong.”

  “Not at all. I just need to meet with you for a few minutes before you head off for winter break.”

  We step into her office and I’m surprised to find Mrs. Miner waiting for us. I shoot her a confused look and her eyes twinkle with mischief.

  “Hi, Abby,” she says. “I hope you don’t mind my joining you.”

  “No,” I say cautiously. “I don’t think I mind.”

  Ms. Raven waves me to a seat then sits behind her desk. “Helen? Would you like to begin?”

  Mrs. Miner’s eyes crinkle as she smiles. “Thank you, I would, actually.”

  I look between the two women and my head spins. What in the world is going on?

  “Abby,” Mrs. Miner begins, “did you mail your applications to both of the universities we discussed?”

  I nod. “Yes. I’ve been watching the status online and it shows I’ve been accepted to St. Cloud, but no word on Mankato yet.”

  “Wonderful,” she says. “Did you have a preference between the two?”

  I lift a shoulder. “Not really—they both seem so much alike.”

  “Well, then. This might make your decision easier.”

  “How do you mean?” I glance between the two women.

  Mrs. Miner raises an eyebrow at Ms. Raven, who nods enthusiastically. “We have great news for you. A letter came today from the Vocal Music Department at St. Cloud State University. As your music teacher, it was addressed to me, but the letter was regarding your scholarship audition.”

  Goose bumps pop out on my arms. “What did it say?”

  “You’ve been offered a scholarship in vocal music. It covers almost everything—your tuition plus room and board. It’s renewable for four years so long as you maintain a three-point-zero GPA and stay in the program.”

  I sit in a stupor, confused. “What does that mean?”

  Ms. Raven grins. “It means if you choose St. Cloud, everything is paid for except your books.”

  My hands shake and my pulse races. “How much are books?”

  “They can be pretty pricey but, if that’s all you have to pay for, it’s not too bad. A part-time job over the summer should cover books for two semesters.” Ms. Raven explains.

  My fingers tingle. I open my mouth, but no words come out.

  “Well, say something, child!” Mrs. Miner teases. “Congratulations!”

  My face flushes hot and I find my voice. “Thank you. I—I couldn’t have done it without you both. I’d never even have known it was available.”

  “It’s our pleasure,” Mrs. Miner says.

  “We’re very proud of you, Abby,” Ms. Raven adds, then changes the subject. “Now, there’re two more things I need to discuss with you while you’re here. First, there’s another scholarship we think you’d qualify for. It’s two thousand dollars, also renewable for four years with good grades and, if you get it, it should easily cover your books. It’s offered to students who’ve experienced tremendous financial hardship, and your family’s recent circumstances make you a good candidate. Are you interested?”

  I nod. “Definitely. How do I apply?”
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br />   “You don’t apply per se. It’s based upon school counselor or teacher recommendation. Mrs. Miner and I could recommend you, but it would mean sharing sensitive information about your family’s hardships. In light of everything that’s happened, we wanted to ask you before submitting the application.”

  I don’t even have to think about it. Yes! Though we’re still homeless, my classmates’ reaction has taken the sting out of others knowing. I nod. “Yes—please!”

  “Good.” Ms. Raven smiles. “Now one last thing before you go. I don’t need an answer today, but I’d like you to think on it.”

  “Okay?”

  “Every spring, we host an assembly recognizing significant issues facing our students. A committee of seven seniors decides the topics, then votes on which students should be invited to present. It’s titled ‘In My Shoes,’ and this year they’d like you to be one of their presenters.” Ms. Raven’s voice gentles. “I know it’s still sensitive for you, but they’d like you to talk about your experiences in the homeless community.”

  My heart races. “Oh—wow. Do I know any of the other presenters?”

  “Actually, Josh Bryant accepted about fifteen minutes before we brought you down. He’ll talk about his decision to be open regarding his sexual identity. You weren’t here when he came out, but it was a difficult decision—as it is for most LGBTQ students. He’ll talk about his fears, any hurdles he’s overcome, and offer advice for those facing similar decisions.”

  “Did he—I mean, was it hard for him?” I ask, dreading her answer.

  She smiles gently. “I’ll let Josh field those questions, but I can say that our school is becoming more accepting of differences, and Josh is a big part of the reason why.”

  “Can I think about it?”

  “The presentation isn’t until March 31st, so you can think on it over winter break. If you’ll let me know by mid-January, that should be plenty of time.”

  I nod. “I will. I’ll let you know.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  NEVER AGAIN WILL I TAKE FOR GRANTED HAV-ING OUR OWN REFRIGERATOR AND PANTRY, NOT TO MENTION a roof over our heads. We moved into transition housing last night, and this is our first shopping trip for groceries. We’re doing better, but money is still tight. I expect this trip for a dozen or so items to take forever as Mom compares prices and consults her fistful of coupons. We’re saving every extra penny to rent our own house and, with Mom and Nick now having a more normal work schedule, I’m looking for a part-time job after school. With luck, I’ll have one soon and—between the three of us—we’ll be able to afford the first- and last-months’ rent before the end of the school year.

  I’m standing in the produce aisle, helping Mom select apples, when the hairs rise on the back of my neck. I look up and lock eyes with Trish. She wears a white button-down shirt with a name tag indicating she’s a store employee. Lovely! Of all the grocery stores, we pick the one where Trish works. Note to self: scratch the grocery store off my list of job possibilities. I turn my back and study the apples. I have no idea what I’m looking for, but it beats interacting with Trish.

  “Abby?” she says. “I was hoping we could talk.”

  I ignore her.

  “Abby,” she says again. “Can we talk?”

  Mom looks up from selecting apples and glances between Trish and me. “Abby? She wants to talk to you.”

  Thanks, Mom!

  I turn to Trish, ready with a scathing comment, but something in the way she looks at me stalls my words. I study her, and her demeanor confuses me. Her eyes are pleading and she picks nervously at a hangnail on her left hand. I want to tell her off, but she looks like a harsh word might shatter her.

  “What do you want?” I ask, my voice resigned.

  “Can we go somewhere to talk? The snack bar, maybe? I’ll buy you a soda.” Trish looks sheepish as she stares at the floor. “I’m on a break.”

  Really? A soda? As if a soda is an enticement or something? I blow out a breath and turn to Mom. “I’ll be back in a minute, okay?”

  A line forms between Mom’s brows, but she nods. “Okay.”

  “Thanks,” Trish says, leading the way to the snack bar. “Do you—can I buy you a soda or something?”

  “I’m fine,” I say.

  “I don’t mind. Really.”

  I shake my head. “No, thanks.”

  Trish nods and we bypass the snack bar and select a booth. I slide into the seat across from her and wait.

  “I’m sorry,” she says simply.

  My body stills. I don’t know what game she’s playing, but I won’t be drawn in so she can kick me around. I nod and slide toward the edge of the seat to stand. “It’s okay. Is that all?”

  “No—wait.” She grabs my hand and I snatch it away. Her face flames. “I—I wanted to explain.”

  Trish’s eyes are pleading and I hate myself for giving in, but I blow out a breath and settle back into my seat. “It’s okay. It’s over—you’re forgiven.”

  “Abby, please let me explain,” she says.

  I close my eyes and count to ten. “Fine. What?”

  “I really am sorry. I know I’ve been awful to you. I don’t have a good excuse, but the truth is—everything I did was because I was jealous.”

  “Jealous,” I say. Not a question, but a statement.

  “Yeah. I know you don’t believe me, but hear me out. Please?”

  I nod. “Okay.”

  “That first day, I saw Zach walk you to class. I saw the way he looked at you and—I won’t lie—it made me mad. You have this beautiful red hair and incredible eyes, and I knew right away he was into you. I screwed up when we dated, and I’d been trying to win him back. But the second I saw him with you, I knew it was useless. I didn’t think—I just reacted. And the more I saw you with him, the more insecure I felt until I blamed you for taking him away from me.”

  “So you made my life a living hell? Because you were jealous?” I grit my teeth so hard they ache.

  Trish stares at the table. “Yeah. And I’m sorry.”

  I close my eyes and take a minute to process this new information. It’s almost too much to understand and I need time to think. I move to stand. “It’s fine.”

  “No, wait! Please don’t go!”

  The panic in her voice stalls me. I blow out a breath and settle into my seat again.

  “It’s not fine, Abby, and I know that,” she says. “I was unforgivably mean. And—I owe you more than an apology. Mr. Bartlett told me what you said to Ms. Raven—about not wanting my punishment to keep me from getting into Juilliard. I don’t know why you’d do that after how awful I was, but I really appreciate what you said.”

  I shrug. “Like I said—it’s fine.”

  “No, it’s not. What I did was horrible. I was so angry I didn’t consider the consequences of my actions, or what it meant to you and your family. I was only thinking about myself, and I was so angry I didn’t think it through.”

  “And now you have?” I lift an eyebrow. “How is today different?”

  Trish’s eyes brim with tears. “I’ve had a lot of time to think the last few weeks. My parents were irate—I’ve never seen them so angry and disappointed. They took away my phone and all of my social media the second they found out, and they still haven’t given them back. Then they put me in counseling twice a week, which, honestly, has really helped me not only understand my motives, but especially how wrong it was. My counselor is helping me with coping strategies for my anger.”

  “Well, I guess something good came out of it if it makes you a better person in the long run.”

  Trish nods but stares at her lap, her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’m trying to change, Abby. I still don’t know how I got so screwed up, but I’m trying to be better. I mean it.”

  I’ve been angry at Trish for a long time—hated her, even—but at the moment, I pity her. Her words ring sincere, and I realize I have it within me to be a better person. I can carry around my anger
and hate, but doing so makes me no better than she’s been. In this moment, I finally understand what Nick meant about forgiveness. He meant that withholding it is like taking poison and expecting the other person to die—the anger ends up hurting me more than it hurts the other person. Plus, I can’t find it in me to withhold forgiveness when she looks so broken. “It’s over. I appreciate your apology. It’s all good.”

  “Yeah.” Trish lifts a shoulder. “It sure didn’t end up the way I thought it would.”

  “How did it end up? For you, I mean?”

  She swipes at a tear. “The whole school hates me—”

  “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  She smiles self-deprecatingly. “No. It’s true. Even Zoë won’t talk to me. I have no friends—none. It’s like I’m a social reject.”

  “I’ve been there.”

  “Yeah?” she says. “Mr. Bartlett suspended me for three days, but because of what you told Ms. Raven, he agreed to keep it off my transcripts if my behavior changes.”

  “So, Juilliard?” I ask.

  “So long as a suspension doesn’t show on my record—which it won’t, thanks to you—I’ll be okay. I owe you for that.”

  “No, you don’t.” I shake my head. “I just did the right thing.”

  “But why? Why would you do that for me?”

  “I didn’t do it for you. I did it for me.”

  Trish’s eyebrows draw together. “I don’t understand.”

  I study Trish then release a deep breath. “I’m not sure I can help you understand, but this is why. Being homeless is the most helpless feeling in the world. One minute our lives were normal—we were completely in control of our destinies. The next minute, circumstances were thrown at us that took everything away. Everything fell apart—our whole lives changed. I couldn’t stop wondering what would happen if you lost Juilliard like we lost our opportunities. Would it change your future? I didn’t want to be the reason you lost something that might make that kind of difference.”

  Trish blinks. “Wow. I don’t know what to say.”