“In my defense, I grew up with a single dad.”
We both laughed, and it felt better than I imagined just being real and telling things like they were. Not that having a single dad was all that weird, but it was still a little unusual. And talking about him was getting easier.
By the end of the movie I was yawning.
“Did you like it?”
“Mmm . . .”
“Shay, come on. Seriously you didn’t like it?”
“It was fine,” I said.
She groaned. “My work here is not complete.”
I’d insisted Tessa sleep in my bed, and I would use the air mattress my aunt kept in the closet. I think she’d bought it when one of her friends with children came to visit so the kids would have a place to sleep.
I wasn’t sure which bed Stanley would choose, but as I lay in the dark on the floor with my friend sleeping nearby, I smiled when I felt the dog climb onto the air mattress and snuggle beside me. There wasn’t much room, but I welcomed him.
Chapter 21
SOMEONE SHOOK MY SHOULDER. I jumped awake, heart pounding.
“It’s just me,” Tessa whispered. She leaned down over me from the bed and was trying to wake me, like we agreed, at four thirty in the morning. At least I think it was four thirty. My room was darker than Aunt Laura’s coffee.
I threw my arm over my eyes, but Tessa prodded me again.
“Come on, we’re going to miss it.”
“Don’t care.”
“Yes, you do. Get up.”
“Cold.”
“Then bundle up.”
Stanley stretched his legs, pushing me toward the edge of the mattress. I took a deep breath and threw off my covers. I’d slept in my thermals, so all I had to do was pull my jeans and hoodie over them. It was supposed to be in the upper thirties.
We shuffled quietly into the kitchen so we wouldn’t wake Aunt Laura, who’d generously slept on the sofa so we could head out onto her bedroom balcony. With coffee for Tessa and tea for me in hand, ten minutes later we were sitting outside wrapped in our winter coats, blankets around our legs.
“Remind me why this was a good idea,” I said, still barely awake.
Tessa held her coffee mug under her nose. I could barely see her silhouette in the darkness, but there were enough city lights to illuminate her and also obscure the perfect view of the sky. We could still see the stars, but I knew it would be so much better away from the lights. I thought of Green Tree Farm. I bet the view out there was perfect. If only I knew that Janie lady better and could’ve gotten permission.
We both went quiet for a few minutes, letting our eyes adjust to the darkness. I knew I was going to have a sore neck by the time this was over, but I leaned back in my chair and tried to keep my eyes focused on one spot. The Leonids meteor shower wasn’t the biggest or the best, but I still hoped to see a few shooting stars. If we were lucky.
“Are you mad at God?” Tessa’s voice was soft.
I wanted to blurt out, “No,” since that was the right answer, but I had a feeling Tessa would see through that anyway.
“Sometimes,” I said.
“Me too.”
“What?”
When she found out her dad was divorcing her mom and moving in with his old high school sweetheart—who was now having a baby with him—and when her best friend, Mackenzie, tried to commit suicide, I knew her faith had been shaken. Whose wouldn’t? But somehow, I thought she’d processed all that. I’m not sure why. You didn’t just get over things like that any more than I’d gotten over my dad dying.
“It’s hard to trust,” I said.
“Yeah.”
I decided to share more. “I keep thinking, why didn’t Dad have some sort of premonition to stay off the road that night? Or why didn’t something, anything, stop it? God could’ve done that if He’d wanted, but He didn’t.”
Steam from her mug rose up around Tessa’s face. “It makes you think about if He really loves you.”
That was it exactly, but I hadn’t had the guts to say it.
“How can you know something like that—whether He really loves you?” I asked.
I felt like a heretic to even voice the question. I’d grown up knowing Jesus. He’d been my Savior for as long as I could remember, and I think it was the same for Tessa. But maybe that’s why we wondered. For faith to be real, you had to choose it for yourself. I knew that much. My dad couldn’t make me believe any more than Tessa’s parents could force her.
“I guess that’s why it’s called faith,” Tessa said. “But it’s still not easy. I mean, my dad was supposed to be an example of what a father’s love should be. Is it okay to say I don’t ever want to be like him?”
I nodded, hoping she knew I got it as best I could. My dad had been my hero, but I knew he wasn’t perfect. And when someone dies, you tend to remember more of the good than the bad.
“It’s definitely okay,” I said.
Tessa went quiet, and I hoped I was doing a decent job as a reassuring friend. This vulnerability thing was new territory for both of us.
“My aunt says I can go see Mason,” I said.
“No way!”
“I’m driving myself crazy imagining it.”
“Well no kidding, Shay.”
“I saw one!” My hand shot into the air, pointing at the faint meteor.
Tessa missed it.
We both kept our eyes on the sky, and I held my mug of tea close. The cold air made my nose and ears cold, but I was warm everywhere else. I heard a bump on the glass and saw Stanley waiting for us. I’d thought about bringing him out, but it was too cold for his thin coat of fur to keep him warm.
“The last meteor shower I watched was with my dad,” Tessa said. I heard so much more behind her words than she let on. The longing for the past but also for the future that never would be. I could relate to that.
I could also tell she needed to share this stuff, and I was more than willing to listen.
“He’s the one who got me into it,” she added. “He loved science.”
I noticed she said loved not loves and wondered if it was because his interests had changed or his relationship to her had.
“Do you see him much these days?”
“Some,” Tessa said. “When I have to.”
“Parents can be really difficult sometimes.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I guess we can be too.”
Tessa chuckled.
The next meteor she caught, and I missed.
“Did I tell you I wanted to work for NASA?” she asked.
I shifted to a more comfortable position in my chair and set my now-empty mug on the decking beside me. A siren screamed in the distance. The city was waking up.
“Past tense?” I said. I still couldn’t see Tessa’s face very well, so I was having trouble reading her. Maybe that’s what was making it easier for us to share things with each other.
“Ever since my dad left . . . it’s hard to dream about anything.”
“I hear that,” I said.
“I mean, don’t take this wrong, but in some ways, it would’ve been easier if my dad died.” Tessa scooted down in her chair so she could stare up at the sky better. “Then there would be finality. Closure. But seeing him start a completely new life—and a new family—without us . . . without me. It’s hard.”
“Doesn’t he want to see you?”
“He says so, but it’s not the same.”
Her family situation was hard for me to picture in some ways. I’d only ever had Dad, and even though I thought I got it, I could only guess what a two-parent life was like through my friends. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t still care.
“I’m sorry. We didn’t come out here to talk about my family troubles.” Tessa tried to laugh, but I could tell her heart wasn’t in it.
“Hey.” I reached out and touched her arm, this time without hesitation. “That’s what friends are for.”
Chapter 22
>
TESSA’S MOM PICKED HER UP for church at eight thirty.
“Want to come with us?”
Her question came completely out of the blue, and I started to stammer a response. “Um . . .” I was standing in the living room getting ready to usher my friend out the door. I glanced over at my aunt, who was sitting on the sofa with her coffee and iPad.
“Fine by me,” Aunt Laura said without looking up.
I wasn’t sure if it was fine by me. We’d just had the conversation about church attendance last night, and for a second I felt as though Tessa might be looking to change me.
“No pressure at all,” Tessa added, hooking her duffel bag onto her shoulder. Her mom had texted that she was waiting in the parking lot.
I looked down at my clothes. I still wore my thermals under my jeans.
“I’d have to change,” I said.
“You’re fine,” Tessa said, even though she herself was wearing a dark-green Old Navy dress I could never think of pulling off well.
Uh-uh. Even I wouldn’t go to church looking like this. But do I really even want to go?
Honestly? Not really.
I did want to be with my friend, though. So I ran back into my bedroom and quickly peeled off my thermals and threw on a fresh pair of dark jeans. I had a nicer gray sweater with a cool zipper I pulled over a T-shirt, and my black canvas sneakers would be better than boots. The warmest coat I had was still my Carhartt, but I had no idea if that was completely taboo in Tessa’s church so decided to go without.
We waved to Aunt Laura five minutes later, and I followed Tessa out to her mom’s car.
“Will she mind?” I asked.
“Of course not.”
Tessa knocked on her mom’s window, and the woman jumped before rolling it down.
“Sorry,” Tessa said. “Shay’s going to come with us, if that’s okay?”
I watched Mrs. Hart’s face, and her eyebrows went up for a split second, but then she just smiled.
Tessa tried the door. “Mom? The locks?”
“Oh, sorry!” Mrs. Hart said, and the doors clicked unlocked.
Rolling her eyes with a laugh, Tessa went for the passenger seat. I climbed into the back, grateful I didn’t have to ride shotgun.
“Are you sure it’s okay?” I asked.
Tessa made an exasperated sound. “Of course!”
I’d actually been asking her mom, but Mrs. Hart didn’t seem to mind. She tapped at two coffees sitting in the cup holders.
“I would’ve gotten you one if I’d known,” she said.
Tessa pulled out hers and handed it back to me. “You can have some of mine.”
“What is it?”
“Latte,” Tessa said.
“Uh . . .”
“Just try it.”
“Coffee is gross!”
“Oh my gosh, are you sure you’re my friend? One sip, Shay.”
Mrs. Hart chuckled.
“I feel like you’re offering me a gateway drug,” I said, taking the cup. I lifted the lid and breathed in the scent. Smelled good, but taste was a completely different story.
“It’s caramel,” Mrs. Hart said.
I took a sip.
We pulled out of the parking lot, and Tessa twisted around to check on me. “Well?”
I didn’t want to admit it wasn’t all that bad. The caramel masked pretty much all of the coffee taste.
“This is like a warm milkshake,” I said.
Tessa laughed again. “I might not have succeeded in turning her into a Jane Austen fan, but I can now die in peace. Shay actually tried coffee.”
“This is hardly coffee!”
“Exactly,” Mrs. Hart said.
I handed Tessa back her latte and sank down into the seat. I was starting to feel the four-thirty wake-up call.
When we pulled into the Faith Community Church parking lot, my adrenaline woke me up. It had been a long time since I’d been to church, and I was worried all eyes would be on me. My concerns weren’t necessary. I was greeted like I was Tessa’s long-lost sister, and when Izzy saw me from across the foyer, she came running over.
“Oh, my stars, Shay! What’s up? I didn’t know you were coming!”
“I didn’t either,” I said, as my friend pulled me into a hug. I honestly could get used to this friend affection.
Izzy wore a navy-blue knit dress with leggings and her favorite brown, lace-up boots. Both of my friends were dressed way nicer than me, but I tried not to worry about it.
Izzy pulled Tessa and me aside. “Are they really bullying you?”
The two of them eyed me with concern. I appreciated their care and yet wanted them to abandon the issue at the same time. The last thing I wanted was for my friends to get sucked into Kelsey and Jade’s vortex of nastiness, and I certainly didn’t want them to discover the dirt those girls had on me.
“I’m handling it,” I said. “You don’t have to worry.”
“Of course we do,” Izzy said.
Tessa agreed. “If you’re being bullied, you need to talk to the guidance counselor or one of our teachers. They’ll know what to do.”
I shook my head. They didn’t quite get it. “Guys, relax. It’s not a big deal.”
Yet I knew it was. It really was. Those girls had stolen from my aunt, and they could be prosecuted. But what had I done? Covered it up like a coward. By ringing up that purchase and paying for it myself, I was saying everything was fine. I’d given Kelsey and Jade what they wanted.
“You’ve watched too many movies,” I said, trying to joke, but my friends weren’t convinced. Tessa actually had her hand on her hip.
Music started playing in the sanctuary, saving me from having to give more lame excuses. We walked inside and found a seat together. I sat at the end of the row.
Even though it wasn’t quite the same, worship for me could sometimes feel as nerve-wracking as getting up on a stage. I knew I was supposed to relax and just focus on me and God and singing and thanking Him for everything He’d done for me, but even when I closed my eyes, I always felt like people were staring at me.
It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy worship music either. Sometimes when I was alone, I pulled up a calming, worshipful song on my phone, and it grounded me. I liked my rock music too, but I listened to different songs depending on my mood.
Breathe. In and out.
I could hear Tessa and Izzy belting their hearts out beside me, and I peeked over at them. Izzy had both of her hands raised to the ceiling, and even Tessa quietly rocked back and forth, her eyes closed. Me? My spine felt like a fence post.
Oh, come on, Shay. Everyone welcomed you. You’re among friends. Relax.
By the time the pastor climbed up onto the stage, I’d managed to at least breathe normally. He preached a sermon on the Beatitudes, and I tried to focus on his words. I listened closely when he said, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”
I was surprised when Tessa reached over and rested her arm on me for a second. She squeezed my shoulder.
I needed to just enjoy this moment with my friends. But I couldn’t seem to shake the feeling of wondering when the other shoe would drop.
Chapter 23
I DREADED SCHOOL ON MONDAY. Anxiety threaded through me on the walk over and didn’t let me go as I headed inside. I just needed to keep my head down and blend in and hope Kelsey and Jade didn’t find me.
I barely made it to World History on time. Izzy tried to talk to me as I walked by her desk, but she got hushed by Mr. Lucas. For second-hour Chemistry it was the same thing. Tessa caught my eye as I walked in, and I smiled at her but found a seat on the opposite side of the room.
I wasn’t purposely trying to be distant, but I was exhausted. If I got through the day without crying, I’d consider it a success. None of my friends knew I planned to talk to Ms. Larkin today, and I didn’t intend to tell them. They’d just try to talk me out of it again.
I made it to her classroom as early as I could, but
it wasn’t Ms. Larkin I found there. Wilson, a guy who sometimes helped out with stage tech, was fiddling around with the sound equipment.
“Oh, hey.” He looked up when I walked in, running his hands through his shaggy brown hair.
I’d only officially met him once, but I saw him around the school. He wore glasses, and they actually looked good on him.
“Is Ms. Larkin around?” I asked.
“Haven’t seen her.”
I dropped into a chair. I’d psyched myself up all morning to face her. I couldn’t do this anymore. Because I was mentally preparing to lay things straight with her, I’d barely been able to concentrate in any of my classes.
Wilson looked as agitated as I felt. He tapped one of the mics, and then shook his head.
“Problem?” I asked.
“I’ll figure it out.”
“Need any help?”
Wilson eyed me as if to gauge my seriousness. “You’re Shay, right?”
“That’s me. Drama-class queen.”
He cracked a smile, then caught himself.
“No, you should laugh. I am the worst student here, and everyone knows it.”
“Why do you think I do tech?” He tapped at the mic again and then handed it to me. “Can you run up on the stage and talk into this?”
I figured I could manage that with no one else around. Climbing the steps, I stood in the middle of the stage and cleared my throat.
“Talk?” Wilson prodded me.
“Um, right. Hello? Anyone out there?”
“That’s good.”
“Should I keep going?”
“Just a little more.”
“Never buy flowers from a monk,” I said, and my voice came through the speakers along with a load of static.
Wilson looked up, his hair falling into his eyes.
I tried to keep a straight face. “Only you can prevent florist friars.”
He chuckled and shook his head—a common reaction to my occasional bad jokes.
So did Izzy and Amelia and Tessa who’d apparently walked in without me realizing. I got off the stage and handed the mic over to Wilson.
“Have you thought about doing some of the backstage stuff—instead of onstage?” he asked.
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