by Angel Lawson
“Take a seat,” she says, pointing to one of the chairs in front of her desk. I do and study the woman before me. I haven’t really been in here before, other than the day I transferred from my home-schooling program in North Carolina. She’s young, with her hair pulled back in a now-messy ponytail. I get the feeling it wasn’t that way when she started the day. She pushes a stray piece of hair off her face and smiles at me. “So, let’s talk about the future.”
“Okay.” I smile trying to hide my nerves. This wasn’t part of the homeschool life.
“I see that your grades are really good and you took the SAT last month and did pretty well. Have you picked out any schools or turned in any applications yet?”
“Well, my plan had always been to apply to Emory in Atlanta. I had an interest in their public health school—you know, since they work closely with the CDC. I mean, that was my plan before…”
She frowns. “Before what?”
“I moved out here, I guess.” I feel like a loser for saying it. What girl gives up her long-term dream to stay in a tiny town? Especially when all but one of her boyfriends are leaving. I never really knew who I was when I lived at home, but I really didn’t think I was that girl.
I can hear my mom whispering in my ear, telling me to remember how hard I worked toward this. How much I gave up.
“Changing your mind or being uncertain isn’t unusual for this stage in the process, but application deadlines are approaching. Early admissions have already been secured, so if you’re serious about Emory or any other college, it’s important to get that paperwork turned in so you have options.”
“Okay, that makes sense.”
“So you think you’re interested in public health? That can narrow down your school choices.”
The old me would have said yes, but the new Starlee, the one that’s lived up in these mountains and found a new home, isn’t so sure. I used to be scared of people and the thought of working in a lab all day seemed appealing, but being here in Lee Vines, volunteering with the Helping Hands club and learning more about the system the boys have struggled through has opened my mind to new ideas.
“I’ll do some research,” I tell Mrs. Addison. “And make a decision.”
She smiles. “Good. You’re obviously a bright and talented student, Starlee, I’d hate for you to miss out on any opportunities.”
I stand, taking a stack of paperwork that she hands me about scholarships and requirements, and thank her on my way out the door. I exhale in the little hallway, feeling overwhelmed. She’s right. It’s time to make a decision. No more avoiding the issue.
I walk by the other counselor’s office and spot Jake’s broad shoulders and blond hair. His jaw tics and his counselor hands him a sheet of paper. “We’ve been contacted by a few schools interested in your attending their schools and playing football, but your grades are borderline in English and History. You’ll need to pass all the required end-of-course exams to graduate,” the man says. I feel a ball of tension grow in my chest. “If you don’t pass those classes, then there’s no way they can offer you a spot on the team.”
“I understand,” Jake says.
“We’re here to support you—one hundred percent. Just let us know what we can do.”
“Thanks, Mr. Russell.”
I wait with my back against the wall and Jake spots me as soon as he exits the office. His jaw is set—frustrated—but his eyes light up a bit when he sees me. He clutches a packet of paper in his hand, but it’s not the same kind as mine. As he walks up I see it’s a study guide for the upcoming tests. I hold out my hand and he gives it to me.
“You heard all that?” he asks, rubbing his forehead.
“Some of it,” I reply. “Enough.”
“I don’t know if I can do all the stuff they want—pass those tests.”
I reach for his hand. “Of course, you will. I’ll help.”
He grimaces. “You shouldn’t have to do that. You’re busy with your own stuff.”
“That’s for me to deal with. This afternoon—we’ll get organized. I can work on my applications while you study.”
“Okay.” He bends over and kissing my forehead. “Thank you.”
He tosses his arm over my shoulder and I feel safe beneath it. Different from the weight of change in my hand. Jake and I may both have challenges ahead, but one thing's for certain—we both feel more secure tackling them together than going at it alone.
10
Starlee
“I like the blue best.”
“More than the yellow?”
“Yes,” Katie tells my mom. “Blue is better for you and Starlee. The yellow clashes with your hair.”
“True,” Mom says, flipping through fabric swatches. I’m not sure when this wedding got so out of control. Probably when my mom decided to take over. Star Jones never makes anything easier—not when she decides to channel all her energy into it.
“Are you sure LeeLee wants all this?” I ask from the couch in the lobby of the lodge. The boys are in charge of the Wayward Sun for the afternoon, giving my mom a chance to focus on her favorite new obsession. “It just seems a little much.”
“It’s her wedding, Starlee,” Mom says with a shake of her head. “I know you’d probably rather elope or something, but LeeLee is a traditionalist with things like this. She and Tom deserve to be celebrated.”
The eloping comment is obviously a jab—that slight bitterness over me running away. I shake my head and mutter, “I doubt I’ll ever get married anyway.”
She looks up. “What? Why would you say that?”
Did I say that out loud?
“I don’t know. It just seems like something too distant to think about.”
A frown tugs at her mouth. Katie pretends to have other things to do in the back of the office. That’s how quickly tension can rise between me and my mother. “How are the applications going? Do you need any help?”
“They’re fine.” I lie. The one to Emory is still incomplete—there’s something holding me back. Five somethings. “I’ve been doing it while helping Jake. He just needs someone to sit next to him and help him muddle though some words.”
Her expression softens. She likes Jake—it’s impossible not to. “I’ve never seen someone work so hard. I hope he passes.”
“Starlee, want to help me carry some stuff back to the storage building?” Katie calls from the back.
“Sure.”
“I’ll lock up,” Mom says.
In the back room, Katie lifts a box of cleaning supplies that came in that day and hands it to me. Then she grabs her own. We head out the back door. It’s early evening, the sun fading and all warmth going with it.
“What’s going on with the college stuff?” she asks when we get to the building. She rests the box on the door and digs around her pocket for the keys.
“Nothing. It’s fine.”
She rolls her eyes and shoves the key in the slot. “You’re not a good liar, Starlee.”
She flips on the light and I follow her in. The interior of the storage building feels even colder than outside. “I’m just not so sure I want to go anymore.”
“To college? At all?” She sounds alarmed.
“I don’t know. Things are just different now. I mean, a year ago I had a different home—a different life.”
“One that didn’t include the wayward sons.”
I laugh at the name. She’s the only one that knows I call them that. Usually it’s just in my head. “There’s that, but they aren’t all of it.”
She starts unloading the box of cleaning supplies, placing bottles and containers on the shelves in an organized manner. “Even I can admit you’ve changed since you got here. You’re not the same person that showed up last summer. I guess it’s not a surprise that your plans for the future have changed.” She takes the box from me. “When are you going to tell your mom?”
“Have you met my mom?” I ask and she laughs in reply. “I’d just kind of planned
on avoiding it. Maybe she won’t notice? I mean, she is busy with this wedding, after all.”
She shakes her head. “Even I know that’s not going to fly.” She adds a few more bottles to the shelf, then stacks the empty boxes on top of one another. “Can I offer you some advice?”
“I’m listening.”
“There’s probably a happy medium in here somewhere. Not going all the way back to the East Coast as well, but still going to college.” Her fingers grip the boxes. “I was a terrible student and never had any desire to leave Lee Vines. It’s my home. It’s like it’s in my blood, but I also know the real reason I stuck around.”
“What’s that?”
“I was scared to leave. I’d been dating this guy for most of high school and I thought we’d just stay here together.” I know her current boyfriend, the park ranger, is new. “His name was David. He was my first—you know, everything. The sex back then was both terrible and amazing. Everything was awkward but the feelings were so real. Raw and edgy.”
I can relate to that. “What happened with you guys?”
“We were immature. He smoked too much weed. Your grandmother gave me that job cleaning at the Lodge, but it wasn’t enough money to support his habit and he was a lazy bastard that didn’t want to work. We finally broke up and he moved down to Fresno or something. Living with some chick that’s paying his bills.”
“Wow.”
“Right? Dodged that bullet. I guess my point is that although I still love it here, some of that is because it’s comfortable. My family and friends are here, but sometimes I wonder…”
“Wonder what?”
“If I could have done more—been more.” She shrugs and walks to the door, using her elbow to turn off the lights. “I just think you’re a really smart, talented girl and you shouldn’t hold yourself back because of the guys. You don’t want to turn around and resent them one day.”
“I can’t imagine that happening. I mean, they’ve all got plans—dreams of their own. I’m the one that’s confused.” Honestly, this conversation has only made me have more questions. What if they want to move on and I’m the one holding them back. I mean, there has to be a reason Jake seems so hesitant to take things further with me. And Charlie? Maybe that’s what’s behind his worry. He’s leaving and doesn’t want to get attached. I’d had sex with Dexter and George long before college was our biggest concern—back then it had been about a different kind of survival.
We step out into the cold, fresh, mountain air. I look up at the sky where a million stars shine overhead. Despite the fact I’ve only lived here for a short time, I know the truth about why I’m hesitant to plan for the future. Lee Vines is the first time I’ve felt truly at home somewhere, and the idea of starting over once again terrifies me.
The next day the notice comes in the mail. I’ve seen it before—State court system emblem in the corner. I pick it up off the front desk without saying a word and walk quickly across the lawn toward the coffee shop. Dexter is wiping off the counter when I enter. I hold it up.
“Did you get one of these?”
He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out the envelope, tossing it on the counter. “All of us.”
It’s a court summons for the hearing for the twins' dad.
“I thought we were done with this,” I say. “What did the boys say?”
“No one wants to go but if we don’t, he may get out on probation or something. I think we have to go on the record.”
“Are they home?”
“I think so.”
I walk out the door and into the house, calling out their names. No one responds, but I hear Crowley barking in the back yard. I head to the kitchen and see the twins through the window. I step outside.
“Hey,” Charlie says when he sees me. He’s lounging in a metal chair while George taunts the dog with a braided rope toy before throwing it.
I hold up my summons. “I heard you got one, too.”
“Yep,” George says. Crowley wanders off from the toy and sniffs the fence line. “Can’t escape the old man.”
“Well, maybe this will be it?”
The twins share a look. I think they both know they’ll never be fully rid of their father.
“Okay,” I try again, “at least the rest of us will be there with you?”
George walks over and slips an arm around my waist. “You know, that does make it a little better.”
“I talked to Mrs. DeLange,” Charlie says. “The charges are pretty big. The judge can give him some jail time.”
I look between them. “How do you feel about that?”
George’s jaw sets. “Part of me wishes he could just sober up and become a better person, but we’ve all seen how that goes.”
Charlie snorts in agreement. Crowley runs across the yard and jumps in his lap.
“Whatever happens, we’ll make it through. You’re eighteen. They can’t make you go live with him again.” I know it’s not much of a consolation. Having a crappy parent sucks. The system sucks. They never should have been sent back there in the first place.
“The only good thing about this is that since we’re part of the foster system, we qualify for some additional financial aid,” George says, a small smirk on his lips. “Two kids going to UC Berkeley’s gonna get expensive.”
I look at Charlie. “You heard.”
“Got the acceptance today.”
The stress and angst over the hearing vanishes, taken over by something else. I slip away from George and move toward Charlie, who nudges Crowley off his lap. I’m in his arms before he’s even standing. “I’m so proud of you.”
“The computer science program is good, the scholarship money is good and,” he looks over my shoulder, “you know someone has to be around to get him to the ER every few weeks.”
I laugh, tears burning my eyes. George comes behind me and wraps his arms around the two of us, squeezing me in the middle. An Evans brother sandwich.
If only their father could see them now.
11
Starlee
The next week passes quickly. Everyone is busy with work, deadlines, weddings, and more. Jake and I study every night together at the kitchen table at his house—each ending with a simple kiss that lights a hunger in the pit of my belly. A hunger that he seems to have banished, and my insecurities grow.
There’s not much time to worry about it, though. George overtakes the living room with his artwork, trying to decide which ones to display at the show in next week. He grows frazzled—erratic—his ADHD coming out full force. Mom, being a great organizer, does her best to help him focus and pick the right pieces, but it’s not enough to settle him. More than once I’ve seen his bedroom light on late at night and he emerges in the morning with bleary, red eyes and paint caked beneath his nails.
“You’ll need to head to the art show on Friday morning and hang your work by eleven a.m. The actual gallery show is at six, which will give you a few hours to tour the campus and get ready,” Ms. Peterman says to George during class one day. He’s spending most of his days in the art room now with counselor approval. I listen to them talk while I work on my own project. It’s terrible. My art has suffered greatly since he was removed from my class and is no longer there to guide me through the process.
She continues, “BSAD is giving you a room for the day and night—they have guest housing on campus. It’ll give you a good idea of what it’s like to live down there.”
“Thanks, Ms. Peterman, I just hope I’ve picked out the best pieces.”
“I think you made some solid choices.” She smiles at him. “Don’t stress about it so much. You’ve already been accepted. Your scholarship applications are completed and your case worker, Mrs. DeLange, is working on getting you additional funding from the state.” She squeezes his arm. “Just have fun.”
“I’ll try.”
“Oh,” she says, rummaging through some paperwork on her desk. She pulls up a packet. “There are two tickets for the
show in there. I assume you’d like to invite your brother.”
I look up at the same time his eyes slide to me. There’s a question in them, an invitation.
“Thank you,” he says, taking the packet. “For everything, really.”
She bushes back her hair, her fingers dyed with indigo ink. “You’re a once-in-a-lifetime student, George Evans. It’s been a pleasure to work with you.”
Her words make him blush and across the room, tears prick at my eyes. He’s so talented, so kind and sweet. She’s right. He’s a once-in-a-lifetime.
And I’m lucky enough to have him in mine.
12
Dexter
I’m in the middle of prepping this month’s pies when the chime on the door rings. It’s after hours and everyone is so busy they’ve pretty much left me alone over here. I don’t mind it—I like the solitude of baking. It’s like my place of zen.
I hear a clang, followed by a low curse, “Shit,” and George appears in the doorway. “I didn’t break anything.”
“Uh huh.” I roll the dough with the pin, getting it the perfect thickness. He walks across the kitchen, frowning at the three baskets of lemons.
“Really? Lemon meringue?”
“Not every pie is going to be your favorite.” I sprinkle some flour on the dough and continue rolling. “The market had a really good supply of lemons. Seemed like a good time.”
“If you say so.” He picks up a lemon and tosses it in the air. “Can I ask you something.”
I grunt, not looking up. I don’t know what he’s doing in here.
“You know my show is on Friday night.” I nod. There’s no way not to notice this. The entire house has been overtaken by his artwork. It’s half the reason I’m hiding in the kitchen. “And they gave me two tickets. I would have given one to Sierra and then Charlie, but you know…”
“Yeah.” I know.
“The truth is, I just want to take Starlee and toss the other ticket. Charlie won’t really care.”