Me: What???
Izzy: She’s right. I forgot. It’s small, but you should go see it!
Amelia: I’M IN!!!
Me: What if he doesn’t know about me?
Izzy: Any father would be proud to have you as his daughter.
Me: Aw, thanks!
Tessa: Definitely true.
My eyes started to fill up at their kindness.
Amelia: ❤❤❤❤❤
Me: But really, what if?
Tessa: You should ask your aunt.
Me: Did. She doesn’t know.
Izzy: Hmm . . . maybe he does know about you?
I wasn’t sure if that would be any easier. If he knew about me, then why hadn’t he contacted me? Had my father or mother told him not to? If so, why? If not, then did that mean he didn’t care about me? My thumbs hovered over the phone. I took a deep breath. Typed. Hit Send before I could take it back.
Me: I don’t want to disappoint him.
There. I said it.
Amelia: Won’t know until you meet him!
Me: So you think I should?
Izzy: Pray about it?
A bucketful of guilt poured over me. I hadn’t brought any of this to God. Hadn’t even thought about it. I’d been a Christian since I was little, and Dad taught me right and wrong from the Bible. We weren’t as faithful at going to church as my grandparents wanted us to be, but we tried. I think maybe it was hard for my father, being a single dad. Churches didn’t always understand us. Single moms, yes. Help them all you can. Provide whatever they need. Single dads? Not so much.
Me: I forgot to pray. I hope God understands.
Izzy: Of course He does!
Tessa: Don’t beat yourself up. We all mess up on this.
Amelia: What’s the verse in James? About wisdom?
Izzy: James 1:5
I knew which one she was talking about but didn’t have it memorized.
Izzy: Just grabbed it from Bible Gateway! “If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God.”
Amelia: Him or her!
Izzy: LOL
Me: Thank you.
Izzy: “Who gives generously to all without reproach.”
It was always a hard concept for me: God actually forgiving and loving us, even when we make mistakes. I knew it was real and believed it in my heart, but in the practical, everyday life it was harder to understand. School hadn’t helped me with that either. I was surrounded now every day by kids whose ideals clashed with mine. Sure, there were some Christians, like my friends, but we also had kids who hated God and weren’t afraid to say it or mock those who believed.
Tessa: You’ll know what to do, Shay.
Me: I hope so.
Izzy: Let’s pray now.
Amelia:
Tessa: Yes.
Izzy: Father, we ask You to help Shay. Show her what to do. Give her wisdom. Let her know You’ll always be there for her and always have been. Amen.
I felt those stupid tears again, and in the privacy of my bedroom I let them fall. They weren’t tears of sadness. I cried from the kindness of my friends, and I wondered if they had any idea how much I needed that.
Me: You guys are great.
Amelia: LOVE YOU ALL!! ❤❤❤
Tessa: Good night. See you tomorrow.
Izzy: Buenos noches!!!
Before I went to sleep, I binge-watched Mason King YouTube videos. I left my door open, and sometime in the night both Stanley and Matilda snuggled up to me. For the first time since arriving, I slept soundly.
Chapter 10
WHEN I WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING, I felt a peace I hadn’t felt in a long time. The texting conversation with my friends was still fresh in my mind, and I had a warm kitty and dog curled up against me. For some reason the heater was on too. Aunt Laura must’ve gotten up early. My phone pulsed again beside me, and I fumbled for it, groggily swiping the screen to silence the alarm I’d snoozed twice already.
Aunt Laura was finishing a cup of coffee when I walked into the kitchen. She pointed at a steaming cup of Earl Grey tea on the counter she must’ve made for me. Wow. That was sweet.
“Cereal’s on the table,” Aunt Laura said.
I mumbled my thanks and sat down, pouring myself half a bowl of Raisin Bran and drenching it with 2% milk.
“Your grandparents are coming for dinner tonight.”
With that one sentence my peace flew out the door like a racehorse at the starting gate.
I tried not to choke on a bran flake. “What?”
“Can you do a little straightening up when you get home from school?” Aunt Laura said as she topped off her mug with more from the pot.
“Tonight?”
“I kinda didn’t want to tell them no,” my aunt said with a sympathetic wince. “It could be a good thing.”
“Give me one reason.” I shoved a bite of cereal in my mouth. I didn’t want to sound like a snotty teenager since my aunt was already dealing with enough from me, but I was not prepared for talking with my grandmother. I needed time to decompress. To sink into a routine.
“They care about you.”
I had no response to that. If they care, why pawn me off?
“In their own way, they really do.”
“Doesn’t feel like it.”
“I know.” My aunt leaned against the counter, sipping her coffee with one hand, petting Stanley’s head with the other.
“How’d you end up with Stanley?”
“Whoa. Change of topic much?”
“I didn’t realize you liked dogs.”
“Oh my gosh, yes.” She waved her hand to indicate the apartment. “Just never had a lot of room or time, but I grew up with them. Where do you think you got your love of animals?”
“My dad?”
“Him too, but your mom and I had pets for as long as I can remember.” My aunt grinned and confessed, “We even had a pet snake once.”
I grimaced. “Ew.”
“Your mom couldn’t handle feeding it live mice, so we gave him to a neighbor boy.”
I pointed at the dog. “You should adopt him.”
Aunt Laura glanced down at Stanley, who was leaning against her leg. Apparently it was a greyhound thing. “I think this guy needs a family.” She said the words, and then quickly seemed to catch herself. “Not that you and I don’t make a family, but—”
“No, I get it.”
I did, but sometimes people said things from their heart without thinking first. My aunt had lived a single person’s life for all of her thirty-plus years, and she, like Ms. Larkin, was happy. But she was right, too. There was something about a family, about surrounding yourself with people who shared your bloodline. They might drive you crazy, but you were connected in some inescapable way.
Then I thought about my dad. He and I weren’t connected in that way at all, and yet I’d loved him as if we were. I know he loved me, too, but was it possible he would’ve loved me more if he’d been my biological father? How could you measure something like that?
“Shay, you know that’s not what I meant.”
“Mm-hmm.” I shoveled Raisin Bran in my mouth and just focused on eating and getting out the door.
“I have a book sale I’m going to around noon, but I’ll be back before they arrive.” Aunt Laura said as she grabbed Stanley’s leash. “I can walk him.”
She left, and I wondered if it was because she was embarrassed or didn’t know what to say any more than I did. I finished my cereal as I scrolled through last night’s messages from my friends. Amelia had already sent us all a Snapchat video this morning. I clicked on it.
“Hey there . . .” she waved at the camera. “So . . . have we made up our minds about the Christmas play? I really think we need to do it. It could be soooo much fun. See ya at school!”
I gave Matilda the stink eye. Amelia just wouldn’t let it go. Her stick-to-itiveness both annoyed and challenged me. I wished I could be as excited about something, anything really, because I certainly wasn’t excited abo
ut school.
“Hold down the fort,” I admonished the cat and ran out the door.
Thankfully Jade and Kelsey weren’t waiting for me when I arrived at school, but Izzy was. She handed me a baggie with two brownies in it.
I think my eyes lit up. “Wow, thanks.”
“I thought they might help.”
When Izzy made brownies, they weren’t just brownies. They were usually from scratch and sometimes loaded with chocolate chunks or decorated with cute sprinkles.
“I added some white chocolate chips,” Izzy said.
“You have to share these with me at lunch.”
She waved me off. “I ate way too many last night!”
That’s one of the things I loved about her. She wasn’t afraid to enjoy food. I wasn’t sure if it was part of her Mexican heritage or just her, but food was both how she showed care and how she brought a certain zest to her life.
“You should start a YouTube cooking channel,” I said. Izzy dreamed of someday having her own baking show on Netflix.
“That’s soooo been done.”
“Not by you.”
She playfully punched my arm. “We’re gonna be late.”
“Ugh, ’cause I’m so excited to learn about empires of Asia.”
“Hey, that Ming Dynasty keeps me up at night.”
We both laughed.
Tessa and I had second-hour Chemistry together, but I didn’t get to talk to her. I didn’t see any of my other friends until drama class. They all converged around me like I was a flower and they were a swarm of bees.
Amelia wrapped me in one of her infamous hugs. “I watched five of his videos last night. How in the world does he do all that?”
“He is pretty cool, isn’t he?”
“Did you talk to your aunt again?” Tessa asked.
“No.”
Tessa’s forehead scrunched up. “You really should.”
“I will. Just not now.”
“Shay, you can’t put everything off.”
I felt myself bristle. I didn’t put everything off. I knew Tessa was trying to help though, so I let the comment slide.
Ms. Larkin stood up, and we all sat down and got quiet.
“Today we’re going to play a game called ‘Anyone Like Me?’”
Amelia elbowed Izzy in excitement as if she knew what was coming.
Ms. Larkin directed us to arrange the chairs (and beanbags) in a circle around the huge pink chair shaped like a high-heeled shoe.
“I’ll start so you get the idea,” she said. “I’m looking for people who, like me, love the color purple. Anyone who is like me, please stand up.”
Five kids, including Amelia, stood.
“That’s great! Now all of us standing will change seats.”
There was a fun scramble around the room, and Amelia ended up in the center chair.
“Okay, Amelia, your turn. Who are you looking for?”
She thought for one second and then blurted, “I’m looking for people who, like me, have math as their worst subject in school!”
I groaned and stood up with several others. We switched seats, and I ended up sitting next to Tessa.
Chad was in the hot seat now. “I’m looking for people who, like me, wish drama class was two hours long!”
Everyone stood up except me and Tessa, and we looked at each other sheepishly as a few of the kids pointed at us. I knew it was all in fun, but I didn’t enjoy the way it made me feel like an outsider.
“Okay, this is great,” Ms. Larkin said. “But let’s think about going deeper, all right? Don’t be afraid to delve into some unknowns. You’re safe here.”
When Izzy got up, she said, “I’m looking for people who, like me, love to watch Cupcake Wars.”
Only two students stood up with her, including Ms. Larkin.
Ms. Larkin ended up in the middle. “I’m looking for people who, like me, sometimes feel lonely.”
I almost didn’t stand up, but I finally did. I looked around the room and was surprised that a bunch of kids, including all three of my friends, had joined me. Really? How could vivacious Amelia ever feel like that, or Izzy, with her amazing cooking and baking skills and always trying to cheer others up. And Tessa always seemed so put together and kind. Lonely? I’d never thought of her that way either.
And then I was standing in the middle.
I wasn’t as uncomfortable as I had been on the stage, but once again I felt the panic of having all eyes on me. I knew everyone here wanted to be supportive, but that didn’t really help.
“I’m looking for people who, like me—” I struggled to pick something that wasn’t entirely superficial but wasn’t all that vulnerable either—“love animals.”
Okay, that was safe. A half dozen students stood, including Izzy.
Two rounds later Tessa stood up in the center. She blinked a few times and glanced up at the ceiling like she was contemplating what to say. “I’m looking for people who, like me . . .”
She paused, and I wondered if she was having a similar debate with herself about how deep to go.
“. . . who, like me, have parents who are getting divorced.”
I watched as four other students stood with her, and it almost seemed like Tessa’s shoulders relaxed at the confirmation she wasn’t alone. I think we all were aware of her parents’ situation, but I knew admitting that up in front of the class took some guts.
In a few more minutes I found myself in the hot seat again after standing because Izzy asked who else loved pizza. I’d relaxed a little, and I almost went for another superficial share. But if Tessa had been brave enough, I could be too.
“I’m looking for people who, like me, have had a parent die.”
The class became still. Someone’s sneaker squeaked on the floor. Chad tapped a pen on his leg.
No one stood.
I felt my heart ramping up, and I wished there was such a thing as an invisibility cloak. I would’ve thrown it over my head in a heartbeat.
Ms. Larkin started clapping. “Give Shay a round of applause. It isn’t easy being unique and standing up there alone.”
I knew she meant it as positive affirmation, and that was the point of this game: to support each other. But I felt the opposite. I didn’t want to be singled out. I didn’t want to be unique. I wanted someone else to understand me.
Didn’t look like that was happening today.
Chapter 11
I LUMBERED UP THE STAIRS outside my aunt’s apartment—I didn’t know if I’d ever call it mine—and Stanley met me at the door. I wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d done his business, so I quickly walked him before I got to work “straightening” the place like my aunt wanted.
I’m not the neatest person in the world. I probably drove my aunt crazy when I left out a dish or glass in the living room. I could stack a pile of books on my nightstand without even thinking, and sometimes I left dirty clothes on the floor.
My aunt wasn’t what you’d call a neat freak either, but she definitely liked things in their place. So I spent a half hour picking up unnecessary clutter with Matilda following me the entire time.
Six o’clock was when dinner was supposed to happen, and by five thirty I could feel my gut tightening with the tension of expectation. Where was my aunt? I almost headed downstairs to search for her in the bookstore, but she’d said she was going to a book sale.
I grabbed my phone and punched out a text: Where are you? It’s almost 6.
Aunt Laura was not a Luddite, but she also sometimes left her phone in her car. She was trying to get better about that for my sake, but old habits die hard. I imagined her phone vibrating in the cupholder of her Jeep.
I decided to feed Stanley and Matilda before my grandparents arrived so the animals would be on their best behavior. I was just picking up their bowls when the knock came at the door.
Running over to answer it, I forgot to check the peephole and swung the door open. My grandparents both visibly startled and
then stood staring at me. Grams carried a gift bag with the neck of what had to be a wine bottle poking out the top. My grandfather, who insisted on being called Pawpaw, smiled at me through his bushy white mustache.
I stepped aside and let them in, inwardly yelling for my aunt to hurry up and get home! Stanley greeted them both with a friendly tail wag and sniff to their hands. They both patted him on the head.
Grams reached to give me a hug, but her hugs weren’t at all like Amelia’s. My grandmother was as thin as a great blue heron’s legs, and only her arms touched me for two seconds tops.
“How are you?” she asked.
She hadn’t called me or texted or reached out in any way since leaving me here, so it was hard to feel like it was a genuine question. But I knew it was possible she was simply giving me time and space to settle in.
I put on a happy face. “Good.”
Grams lifted the wine from the bag, two bottles actually, and placed both on the kitchen table I had yet to set for the meal. I clenched my jaw at her assumption that first of all my aunt would even want to serve alcohol with the food, and then at how she could possibly think it was okay after what happened with Dad.
I glanced at my grandfather, and he shrugged.
Without asking, Grams started opening kitchen drawers. Silverware rattled. I noticed Matilda had disappeared, which was quite unlike her. We sometimes had to close her in a bedroom because she’d be trying to steal the food right off our plates.
“What are you looking for?” I asked.
“Does your aunt have a wine bottle opener?”
“You’re opening them now?”
“Red wine needs to breathe.”
No, I didn’t know where my aunt kept a bottle opener, or if she even had one. I couldn’t remember if I’d ever seen her drink anything stronger than her coffee. Maybe she did when I wasn’t around or before I came to live with her. I didn’t know that either, and it wasn’t really my business.
But this? This is.
“Any ideas?” Grams rifled through the knife drawer.
My grandfather sat down at the kitchen table. “Honey, maybe you should wait for Laura.”
Grams didn’t seem to hear him. She finally found what she was looking for and held the corkscrew up in triumph.
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