“It’s okay.” I shrug. “Let’s just move on.”
“Just like that?”
“Yeah. Just like that. I wish you hadn’t done it, but it showed me a lot about my friends and myself. And it sounds like the therapy is helping you, so it all worked out.”
“So we’re good?”
“I’m not mad anymore,” I say. “But I don’t think we can ever be friends. We weren’t headed that way anyway, but I don’t hate you.”
Trish smiles shyly. “Thanks, Abby.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
IF I’VE LEARNED ANYTHING ABOUT MINNE-SOTA, IT’S THAT THE WINTER LASTS FOREVER. IT’S MARCH 31st and everywhere except Minnesota, kids are dressed in shorts and T-shirts. But not us—we got twenty-two inches of snow this week, causing the district to cancel school for two days. Since then I’ve vacillated between frustration at the closing and hopeful expectation of one more snow day—because one more snow day would delay today’s “In My Shoes” program, and I’m having second thoughts about presenting. But I’m not so lucky. I woke up this morning and checked for school closings, but there were none.
Resigned to my fate, I apply a light coat of mascara and study myself in the bathroom mirror. My face is too pale, but I don’t dare apply more makeup. I flash my teeth. Though I’ve just brushed them, I double-check for anything in between them. Finding nothing, I close my eyes, inhale deeply and count to ten before releasing my breath. It doesn’t help—I’m far more nervous today than I was for the Fall Concert.
“Zach’s here!” Amber shouts from another room.
My heart races—I’m not ready!
“Sister!” Amber shouts again. “Zach’s here!”
“Tell him I’m coming!”
With one last glance in the mirror, I flip the light switch off and grab my backpack beside the door. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.
“I’m leaving!” I call out to Nick. He’ll walk Amber to school in an hour then take the city bus into work, since Mom leaves by six thirty to be home when Amber gets out of school.
“Good luck!” he shouts back from the kitchen.
I close the front door behind me and zip my coat up to my chin. I frown at the winter wonderland surrounding me. We’d thought the snow had melted for the season, but the berm between the street and sidewalk is piled with snow again. Does the winter here ever end?
Zach steps out of the car dressed in khakis, a teal dress shirt, and a matching tie.
“Wow—you clean up well!” I say, reaching his side.
“It’s a special day for you.” He kisses my cheek and I settle into the front seat. Sliding into his own seat, he asks, “You ready for today?”
“I’m nervous!” I hold up a shaking hand for his inspection.
He takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “You’ll be fine. Remember to breathe.”
“Breathe. Right.” I breathe in and out to a count of ten. “I can’t believe you dressed up.”
He doesn’t comment, but offers a smile so wide it shows off the dimple in his cheek. We reach the high school and he parks in the student lot near Door Six. The program begins in an hour but Ms. Raven wants the presenters to meet during first period for a dry run, so Zach walks me to the backstage entrance where he pulls me close and rests his chin on my head.
“Knock ’em dead,” he says.
I lean back and scowl. “You’re supposed to say ‘Break a leg.’”
“Yeah, but you might and then I’ll feel responsible.”
“Ha-ha. Very funny.” I step out of his arms.
Zach grins and gives me a peck on the cheek. “Break a leg, Abs,” he says before leaving me to walk into the auditorium alone.
I barely step through the backstage doors before Josh rushes to my side. “You made it!”
“Of course I did! I said I’d be here!”
“Yeah, but I know how nervous you’ve been. I was afraid you’d start puking or something and I’d be on my own.”
“Never!” I hold up three fingers in the formation of a Girl Scout pledge. “I solemnly swear that I will not abandon you. If I get sick or die before the program begins, I will rally or rise from the dead long enough to present and provide you moral support.”
Josh rolls his eyes. “You are seriously weird, Ariel.”
“Yeah? You should see my friends.”
“Ha!”
We find our seats and Ms. Raven demands our attention. She walks us through the program in order of appearance. First up is Josh, followed by an eleventh-grade girl named Adelyne who will talk about her struggle with depression. I’m last up, and I’m not sure if I’m glad to be last or nervous that I’ll have to wait. My stomach twists and I put a hand over it.
“Don’t you dare puke, Ariel,” Josh teases.
“If I do, I’ll be sure to turn in your direction,” I joke back.
The bell rings and my stomach flip-flops again.
“It’s showtime!” Ms. Raven says. “Any questions before we get this show on the road?”
We shake our heads. Ms. Raven nods and takes her seat next to Adelyne. Moments later, students and teachers file into the auditorium. There’s not enough room for the entire school, so the counselors have devised a rotation that should allow every student to attend at least once before graduating. Additionally, any student with a strong interest is excused from classes to attend.
The auditorium is nearly half full when Zach walks in with Wendy, Tera, and Scott. They’re joking around with each other, and I wish I were down there with them instead of sitting on this stage. At almost the same time, Trish enters from a second set of double doors. She’s completely alone, and it’s impossible to ignore the defeated slump of her shoulders. Gone is the confidence that’s always been the defining characteristic of Trish Landry. Our eyes meet and she smiles cautiously. I smile back and nod, and her smile widens a smidge.
When nearly every seat is taken, Ms. Raven steps to the microphone and the auditorium quiets. “Good morning, and welcome to ‘In My Shoes.’ This morning we have three important topics presented by three of your classmates, who will share with you a little about the difficult experiences they’ve encountered as high-school students. Though their stories are uniquely their own, we hope they can provide comfort to other students facing similar challenges. To those of you who cannot relate, personally, we hope their stories will encourage empathy and a better understanding for the experiences of others.
“Our first presenter is Josh Bryant. Many of you know Josh as our resident Disney Expert. A senior this year, Josh is a two-year member of the National Honor Society, Vice President of the Drama Club, and starred as Sky Masterson in last year’s Stage Door production of Guys and Dolls. He currently serves as President of Rochester South’s chapter of the Gay-Straight Alliance and will speak about his unique journey toward finding his sexual identity, and the challenges and rewards he faces as a teen in the LGBTQ community.”
Josh stands and takes the mic. In the next ten minutes, he details his confusion as an adolescent, and his “light bulb moment” when he realized how and why he differed from many of his peers. I’m awestruck as he talks about his courage in telling his family, coming out in social settings, and the support he’s received from family and friends. He holds the audience entranced, and it’s impossible not to find empathy in his experiences and pride in his journey. His cheeks flush with pleasure as he finishes to rousing applause.
I space out during Adelyne’s presentation as I practice my own speech in my head. I know I should give her my full attention, but I’m on the verge of freaking out and can only concentrate on one thing at a time. In what seems like only seconds, she finishes her presentation and I’m called to the mic.
The shaking intensifies as Ms. Raven introduces me. My knees rattle. Josh grabs my hand and squeezes.
“You’re up, Ariel,” he says. “You can do this.”
I nod and stand to take my place behind the mic at Ms. Raven’s welcome. I smile, but
it feels forced—unnatural. I clear my throat, and the mic’s feedback squeals throughout the auditorium. I groan with the audience, and somehow it makes me feel a little less alone. I close my eyes and fill my lungs, letting the air out slowly. More relaxed now, I open my eyes and notice a stirring in the back of the auditorium. To my surprise, Mom and Nick enter and take seats beside Principal Bartlett. My heart flips, and a swell of pride rushes through me. They didn’t tell me they were coming, and I almost cry knowing how hard it must’ve been for them to leave their new jobs to attend. I smile in their direction and Mom nods, a look of pure pride shining in her eyes. I clear my throat again and begin.
“Good morning. Some of you know me, but many of you don’t. Maybe those of you who don’t know me will recognize my story. My name is Abby Lunde, and until a few days before New Year’s, I was homeless. Today, I’m ready to tell you my story.
“In her epic novel, To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee uses the voice of Atticus Finch to impart an important lesson to his children. He tells them, ‘You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view—until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.’ Basically, Harper Lee says through Atticus the same thing we’ve all heard countless times, and it’s the theme of today’s program. She means the only way to understand a person is to see the world as he sees it—as he experiences it.
“With that in mind, and in keeping with the theme of today’s program, I’d like to let you walk around ‘In My Shoes’ for a little bit.
“My shoes are dirty and worn through. I do a lot of walking. It costs too much to put gas in the van, so we walk everywhere we need to go. Until recently, I walked from school to the library most days. That’s two miles, in case you wanted to know. I wish my shoes were snow boots because it’s cold outside, and canvas sneakers aren’t suited for snow. By the time I reach my destination, my feet are wet and freezing. But, hey—I have shoes. Not everyone does.
“My sister is six and growing fast. She needs new shoes frequently, but we can’t always afford it. As a result, she’s sometimes left wearing too-small shoes that squish her toes. But again, at least she has shoes. Not snow boots or shoes that fit properly, but they protect her feet.
“My mom’s and stepdad’s shoes are worn thin. Nick’s have a hole on the right foot where his little toe pokes through, and the soles of Mom’s shoes have come loose. When she walks, the bottoms flap against the tops like they’re talking to you. She used the last of Amber’s school glue trying to fix them, but it wasn’t strong enough. Her shoes still talk when she walks.
“You might wonder how we ever got into this position—how we became homeless. What did we do wrong? I can assure you it’s not something we ever imagined would happen. But I’ve learned it can happen to anyone. We were lucky, though. My stepdad knew Rochester had programs to help us, so he moved us here where people have been kind and have kept us from starving.
“I didn’t want to move here—in fact, I hated it at first. But then I met many of you, and my life changed. I met the best friends I’ve ever had, and I met a girl I thought I hated who also hated me. Talking to her, though, helped me understand that everyone has her own issues, and knowing her story helped me to forgive.”
I look out into the audience and my eyes meet Trish’s. Several heads follow the direction of my gaze and I smile softly, hoping my expression conveys forgiveness. Trish smiles in return, her expression both contrite and hopeful.
“We all do things we regret, but it takes a big person to say she’s sorry, and she’s done that. It takes an equally big person to forgive, and so I have.”
About half the audience stares at Trish, and I hope I’ve done the right thing—but I couldn’t help it. As awful as she’s been, she seems truly sorry and I can’t stand to see anyone so defeated. I know better than most what a lonely existence school is with no one to claim as a friend. I hope my statement will heal some of the anger directed at her.
As I continue my speech, Zoë stands and takes the empty seat on one side of Trish. The shy smile on Trish’s face is almost heartbreaking.
“So, being homeless wasn’t fun. When we first moved here, we lived in my mom’s van in the parking lot of Walmart. You might’ve seen us. We were the dark green van with the rusted-out fender on the driver’s side, always parked in the last space closest to Broadway. Each night before bed, we’d pretend to go shopping so we’d have an excuse to sneak into their bathrooms to wash our hair in the sink, brush our teeth, and sponge ourselves off. You never understand how much you love a hot shower until you can’t get one.
“Over the last six months, we’ve lived a variety of places. We even squatted in a church basement. That is, until we got caught.
“You might think getting caught was a bad thing, but it wasn’t. The pastor at the church didn’t pity us; he was empathetic to our circumstances. He helped us get into a program offering temporary housing, and he used his connections to help my parents get interviews. Those interviews led to jobs with real money coming in that will allow us the means to rent our own home. More than anything, he offered us kindness, understanding, and a helping hand.
“Throughout the time we were homeless, all of our meals were given to us through charity. My sister and I got free breakfast and lunch at school, and we ate dinner at the Salvation Army. On Saturdays, there was the ‘soup kitchen’ I’m sure you’ve all heard about. It’s called the Saturday Community Kitchen, by the way, and it’s the farthest thing from a soup kitchen I’ve ever seen. There we were treated as guests instead of beggars. For one day each week, we felt valued and accepted. Normal.
“I’ve learned a lot during this time, but the most important thing I’ve learned is to never give up—and for every bad thing that happens, something good happens, too. Though I lived in my parents’ van, I made the best friends I’ve ever known, went to Homecoming, and was given the lead solo in the school concert. I met adults who noticed my circumstances—if not the severity of those circumstances—and extended themselves to help. My school counselor encouraged me to take the ACT and apply to colleges and, together with my vocal music teacher, helped me find scholarships. I thought college was impossible, but I’ve been accepted to two state universities and offered a significant scholarship to one. Between them, Ms. Raven and Mrs. Miner helped me see that nothing is impossible.
“I’m not homeless anymore. We moved into a temporary home just after Christmas, and I have my own bedroom once again. It’s not as spectacular as some of yours, I know, but it’s mine for now, and I love it.
“Six months ago I felt so helpless—hopeless, even—but today I feel empowered. Today I have a game plan: I’ll go to college and someday find a way to give back to the same community that has helped me so much.
“I was reluctant to speak at today’s assembly. I’m not good in front of crowds, and being homeless isn’t something I’m proud of. But the truth is, despite being homeless, I’m not so different from all of you. I have a family who loves me, great friends who support me, wonderful teachers who inspire and guide me, and a plan for my future. My life isn’t perfect, but is anyone’s, really?
“So, yeah—my shoes are nothing special, and there are days when I hate them and wish for something a little warmer, and definitely more stylish. But they’re my shoes, and I think I’ll keep them.”
The audience erupts in applause, and I step away from the podium. Mom throws me a thumbs-up and I beam a smile at her. The applause continues and I take my seat next to Josh. He pulls my hand into his own, squeezing it gently. My eyes meet his and I let out a loud swoosh of air.
EPILOGUE
GRADUATION IS THREE DAYS AWAY, AND I’M BOTH EXCITED AND SAD. JOSH HAS BEEN ACCEPTED TO THE University of Minnesota in the Twin Cities, and Tera and Wendy will be roommates at the University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire. At senior night, I was shocked to learn I’d won the hardship scholarship Ms. Raven and Mrs. Miner had recommended me for, so my expenses are covered at St. Cl
oud State so long as I keep my grades up. Amber’s already crying about my moving three hours away, but Mom and Nick are elated for me. We’ve all tried to distract Amber from her worries by allowing her to choose her bedroom at the new house Mom and Nick rented in late April. We’re finally standing on our own, and Mom plans to get her Minnesota teaching license over the summer. Though I’ve forgiven her, I’m also glad she doesn’t teach college level.
Surprising all of us, Scott received a diving scholarship to the University of Arizona. I had no idea he was so talented. As for Zach, he was offered two full-ride football scholarships—one to Minnesota State University at Mankato and the second to St. Cloud State University. It was a tense two weeks while he considered his choices, but he finally opted for St. Cloud—not because of me, but because they offer the athletic training program he plans to pursue.
This past year has been one of roaming—from bed to bed, from school to school, and from old friends to new friends. Reflecting back, I realize the worst parts weren’t the cold, the hunger, or even the anxiety. It was the lack of being grounded—the untethered feeling of wandering without direction—that bothered me the most.
I still don’t know what my future holds, but I know I’m no longer lost. I’ve learned that sometimes we have to roam in order to find the place that feels most like home.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
It’s been said, “It takes a village to raise a child.” The same is true of writing a novel, and Roam is no exception. From the very inception of this novel, and through the countless rewrites and final edits, there was a village of good friends and people in the publishing community who provided invaluable assistance. To the following people, I send my most heartfelt “thanks.”
To my family, Troy, Amber, and Braden: you will never fully understand how much your support is appreciated. I love you to the moon and back!
To my agent, Tina Purcell Schwartz: thank you for your belief in this novel! I’m so blessed to have you.
Roam Page 29