I set down the leash. He doesn’t need one when he’s too afraid to place a single paw on the porch.
“The wide world is scary sometimes,” I tell him. “But I promise you’ll be okay.”
I reach over and scratch him behind the ears. He rewards me with a thump of his tail. I rub his chest, where his fur swirls like a whirlpool.
Sometimes when I pet Otto, I think about how he needs people to make sure he’s safe. Maybe that’s the point of having a pet. There’s something special about being in charge of a life like that.
I stand up. Otto watches me with his crooked eyes. Slowly I take four steps backward, looking at him the whole time. I reach out my hands.
“Otto,” I whisper. “Come.”
He stands up and shakes himself. I hold my breath.
Then he lies down again.
I sigh.
He grins and lets that tongue roll out, like he’s very proud of himself.
I lower myself to the porch next to him. He nudges me with his nose, and I reach over to give him ear scratches.
“There’s more to the world than what’s in your backyard, Otto,” I whisper. “Someday, I hope you’ll let me show you.”
CHAPTER
23
It’s Friday, and the festival is two weeks away—which means people are working on their floats all kinds of hours. Except for Dad and Ray.
The float for Lulu’s is turning out great. Faith and I have been building up the papier-mâché layers on the coffee cup nicely. As soon as they’re dry, we’ll be able to start painting.
I walk around to see if anyone needs help with their floats. It’s nice to see the progress and talk with people about how things are coming. Everyone is so excited, talking about the festival and how this is finally going to put Oak Branch on the map.
People trickle out as the afternoon warms up, but I keep on working. I’m painting some of the food for JoJo and The Earl’s float and barely register the fact that time is passing. But as the sun gets low in the sky, the light in the barn turns golden. It’s time for Friday night dinner with Dad and Ray.
I close the barn door behind me and walk through downtown. Shops are closing, but there are quite a few people out tonight. We may not get lots of tourists, but I like seeing the familiar faces of people I know as I walk by.
I reach Logan & Son as Ray is flipping the Open sign to Closed. He opens the door for me.
“Dad’s counting out the register,” he says. “Do you want to mop the floors or take out the trash?”
I make a face. If I’d been a little later, I could have missed the end-of-day chores.
“Trash, I guess.”
Ray gets out the mop, and soon the smell of fake pine trees—nowhere near as good as real ones—fills the store. I go behind the register and grab the bin under the counter. Dad counts the money in tidy piles. I can’t help noticing that the stacks seem smaller than they should be.
When I come back from the big garbage can in the alley, I wash my hands and return to the register. Dad twists a rubber band around the bills and puts them in the bank envelope. The worry lines in his forehead are deep.
“Hey, Dad. Tough day?”
He looks startled. “Oh, a bit, I guess.”
I want to ask him more, but he turns away to straighten the back counter. He is quick and efficient as he files receipts, sorts papers, and adds to his to-do list. Practical and predictable. I wander through the aisles, even though there’s nothing new to see.
After Ray puts away the mop, he comes over to me.
“Where’s Dad?” he asks.
I look around in time to see Dad coming out of the back washroom. He’s holding a toothbrush.
He’s careful about brushing and flossing of course, but this seems a bit over-the-top.
“Dad?” I ask. “Did you just brush your teeth? On the way to dinner?”
Dad gets a funny look on his face. I look at Ray, who shrugs.
“Had something with garlic for lunch,” Dad says quickly. “I think it upset my system a bit.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Ew, Dad.”
Outside, the sky is turning orange. We walk down the block to JoJo & The Earl’s. After hugs from JoJo and procuring a handful of root beer candy, Ray and I head for our regular table, split down the middle as always.
I slide onto the yellow side and Ray sits on red, but Dad is standing near a six-seater table on the red side.
“We could try this one for a change,” he says.
Ray and I exchange glances.
“No way,” I say. “I’m not sitting on the red side.”
“This is tradition,” Ray says. “Besides, we don’t need a big table.”
Dad hesitates for a moment, but then he nods. He slides in next to Ray on the red side.
Ray flips open his menu. “I’m starving—I think I’m going to order extra food. Green beans, corn, and ribs, too—”
Dad closes his menu quickly and hops to his feet. “Well, hey,” he calls out.
I look toward the door, where Faith is standing with her aunt Louise.
“Hi,” I say, waving. Faith waves back.
That’s a coincidence. I’ve never seen Faith and Louise here on Friday nights. They come over to say hi.
“Hi,” Dad says. “Scoot over, Annie.”
I almost choke on my root beer candy. Wait a minute—what’s happening here? We’ve never had anyone join us for Friday night dinner.
But it’s too late. Faith is sitting next to me, and Dad offers Louise his spot. He grabs a chair from a different table and sits on the end.
I shoot a look at Ray—“Did you know about this?” But he shakes his head and goes back to his menu.
I glance at Faith, but she’s laughing at Dad’s joke. Dad. Making a joke.
Now Dad and Louise are chatting about the festival and business in Oak Branch. Dad is grinning like I’ve never seen him do before. A lump forms in my throat and spreads to the bottom of my stomach. This isn’t a coincidence. This was planned. And Dad didn’t even ask us.
Faith bumps my elbow. She’s looking my way, wanting me to laugh at whatever Dad said. But I can’t talk when I can’t even think. I stare at my menu like it’s the most fascinating thing on Earth.
I don’t even recognize this Dad, who’s folding his paper napkin into a crane. I didn’t even know he could do that. It seems like something I should have known.
“Annie,” Louise says. “I love all the work you’ve done on our float. Faith told me you have such creative ideas.”
I try to force a smile, but I can tell it comes out weird. My words stick in my throat. Ray, for his part, seems to have recovered from the shock. He launches into a story about his maker space idea again.
I sink low in my seat. How can I talk when I can’t even think? Balloons of questions crowd my mind. How long has this been going on? Are Dad and Louise dating?
I can see the writing on the wall. Dad and Louise are on their way to falling in love, if they haven’t already. Officially ending the story of Dad and Ma. Officially giving up hope that she’s ever coming back.
Well, I’m not ready to give up on that.
PART FOUR
Balloons
From the Collected Drawings of Annie P. Logan
Dimensions: 9" × 12"
CHAPTER
24
Dad never explained why Faith and her aunt Louise joined us, and I haven’t wanted to ask. I keep my distance. Anyhow, I’m busy with Gloria, Otto, and the floats.
On Sunday, after church and pancakes, I stop to change my clothes before heading to Gloria’s. Life is much better when wearing comfortable clothes. I pick shorts, a T-shirt, and my favorite green sweatshirt, which is the exact color of a meadow in May.
“I’ll come by later to help with those projects,” Ray says.
So later, at Gloria’s, I’m not surprised to see him coming up the walk. I am surprised, though, when I see that he isn’t alone. Walking alongside him, right up
the path, are his basketball friends: Javier, Grant, and Tyler. They’re carrying cans of paint, rollers, masking tape, and a canvas drop cloth.
Otto is beside me and has the good sense to start barking.
Grant nods at me, and Javier says, “Hey, Annie.” But Tyler is quiet, which is very unlike him. He looks at the front door, then down the driveway across the street to the park. I can tell he’s putting the pieces together—he knows this is the doorbell I was supposed to ring that day.
I burst out the screen door. “What are they doing here?”
Ray frowns, puzzled. “I told them there were lots of projects. They said they could help.”
I cross my arms and look at them. “Y’all know you can’t get community service hours by helping here, right? You should go to the barn instead. They need help with the floats.”
Javier raises his eyebrows. Grant widens his eyes. Tyler is still looking back and forth between the house and the park.
Ray glares at me. “That’s rude, Annie. I can’t do this on my own.”
“I’ll help,” I say.
Ray rolls his eyes. “I’ve seen the way you hold ladders. No thanks.”
I step back. Ray and I may not always get along, but he’s usually not so direct about it.
I sigh. “I have to ask Gloria. It’s her house, you know.”
Not waiting for a response, I step inside. The screen door slams shut behind me. Otto is still barking at the boys.
Gloria frowns. “What’s got him so upset?”
I knew she wouldn’t want them here.
“There’s a bunch of boys outside—my brother and his friends,” I tell her. “Ray thought they would do some work on your house, but I know you don’t like visitors. I’ll tell them to go.”
I head for the door, but Gloria lifts up her good hand. “They’re here to help?”
“Yes,” I say slowly.
Gloria sits up a little straighter. “How lovely. I’d like to meet them.”
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but this reaction was not it. I didn’t think Gloria ever used a word like “lovely.”
I march back to the screen door. Otto hasn’t budged and is still barking. At least he’s on my side.
“Hush, Otto,” I tell him, even though I wouldn’t mind if he chased them away. I wait until he sits before I open the screen door.
“She wants to meet you,” I say.
The boys file in and stand near the wall, like a police lineup. Grant squirms like he’s about to flee.
“Hi,” Ray says. “Didn’t mean to trouble you.”
Gloria pats her hair. “Annie says you’re here to help. Such gentlemen!”
Her voice is suddenly a stack of pancakes with extra-sticky syrup on top. Of all the Glorias I’ve known, I’ve never seen sweet Gloria. I didn’t even know that one existed. I guess she was saving it for perfect Ray and his perfect friends.
I fold my arms tight and look levelly at Gloria.
“They’re just boys,” I say.
Gloria fully ignores me and continues beaming at them. I feel a flash of irritation. I’ve been here every single day and never once has she smiled at me like that.
Her eyes sparkle. “What a special treat. Your families must be so proud of their young men.”
Ugh. This is so typical. When girls do something nice, it’s an expectation. When boys do something nice, it’s a celebration.
Tyler does a little half wave. “I’m Tyler Barnes, the mayor’s son.”
I roll my eyes. Leave it to Tyler to work that into the conversation. At least Javier and Grant have the decency to mumble their names awkwardly.
Ray looks at me, as if I’m going to help. But I shake my head. This was his idea—he can figure it out.
Tyler cuts his eyes at me for a second, then looks back at Gloria. “Can I ask, ma’am, how you hurt your arm?”
I glare at Tyler.
The good news is, his nosiness about her arm seems to have broken the spell Gloria was under. Her eyes narrow in a frown.
“That’s a little personal, young man. Off to work with all of you!” Her tone is crisp and businesslike, and they listen to her, heading into the backyard. After a moment I can hear them dragging things around back there.
Gloria pulls at a loose thread on her blanket. “They remind me of Albert when he was that age. All elbows and knees—they grow so fast. I could hardly keep the kitchen stocked for the times he’d come over.”
I nod. “Dad always says that Ray eats his weight in groceries and then some.”
“Such a very long time ago,” she says, almost to herself. Then she glances at me again, like she’s suddenly remembered that I exist. “See if we have some snacks for them, in case they’re hungry later. Albert always liked those crackers with the cheese.”
I want to point out that I’m also growing. She’s never offered me anything to eat. These are just boys, wild boys like her brothers who she likes to complain about. I want to tell her that, but something in her expression stops me. She’s looking into the distance, lost in her memories. So I don’t say a word.
In the kitchen, I find the crackers and pour some tea for Gloria. But when I return, she’s fallen asleep in her armchair.
Her blanket has slid onto the floor, and Otto is sprawled on top of it.
“Otto,” I say softly. “Off the blanket.”
He thumps his tail hopefully.
“This isn’t for you,” I tell him. “I don’t want her to get a chill.”
I grab the edge of the blanket and somehow get it out from under him. Then I place it on her lap.
Otto lets out a high-pitched cry.
I frown, looking around. He isn’t hungry and he doesn’t want to go out. Then it dawns on me.
“You want a blanket?”
His tail swings wildly.
I sigh. “She needs it. I don’t have another one.”
But I can’t say no to his hopeful face. I untie my green sweatshirt from around my waist and place it on the floor.
“That’s my favorite sweatshirt, so you better be nice to it,” I tell him.
He lies down on it happily and rolls on his back. I can’t help but smile. He is a dog with good taste in sweatshirts.
I turn back to Gloria. She looks different now, sleeping. If she’d let me, I’d draw her like this. It reminds me of the time I noticed her with Otto—how she seemed softer somehow.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her in a whisper. “I’m sorry I came up to your driveway that day. I’m sorry I was going to ring your doorbell. And I’m sorry that I let everyone think I’m helping you because I’m a good person, because I’m not. I’m sorry my bad luck rubbed off on you.”
She snores lightly.
I walk quietly so I don’t wake her up. Carefully, I close the door behind me. I smile, thinking of them like that—Gloria snoozing while Otto snuggles my favorite sweatshirt. Even though I know she didn’t hear my apology, at least I said it. That should count for something.
CHAPTER
25
When Ray and his friends finish, I tell them to come out the side gate so we don’t disturb Gloria and Otto. Together we walk through downtown. The boys carry all the painting supplies. They don’t ask for help and I don’t offer. I dawdle a few steps behind, hoping to avoid any questions. Tyler glances at me a couple of times, but he doesn’t say a peep about the day I rang Gloria’s doorbell.
Outside Dad’s store, Ray stops. “We can take it from here. Thanks for helping.”
They place the painting gear on the sidewalk and say, “See you later.” Once they walk away, Ray turns to me, squinting.
“Don’t you want to say anything?” he asks.
“To them? Not really,” I say.
Ray raises his eyebrows. “Typical.”
I frown. “What’s your problem?”
Ray kicks at some pebbles on the sidewalk and watches them scatter. “Never mind.” He picks up a canvas drop cloth and starts folding it.
&nb
sp; I watch. For the record, folding a drop cloth is ridiculous. There’s no reason to arrange something neatly when its whole purpose in life is to catch messy paint splatters. He’s just doing it to make a point about how perfect he is.
The more he folds, the madder I get. It’s like each crisp edge and sharp corner is stabbing me. Good old perfect Ray. It’s not enough for him to help when I ask him to; he has to show up when I don’t ask him to. He has to bring an army of friends, including Tyler—who will likely blab to someone about Ding-Dong Ditch, and then I will land in a heap of trouble.
I cross my arms tightly across my chest. “You should have told me you were bringing your friends today, not just shown up with them like that.”
Ray looks up from his drop cloth, frowning. “I don’t get it. You asked for help.”
“I don’t know why you hang out with Tyler,” I go on. “He’s always asking fake questions and being fakey-fake nice to people. I’m the mayor’s son. He’s so smarmy.”
Ray’s face flushes. “He is the mayor’s son. And he’s not smarmy—it’s called being nice. You could stand to be a little nicer yourself.”
Now I’m steaming. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Ray shakes his head. “They helped for free. They didn’t even get service hours for school. And you couldn’t even say hi, which was completely awkward and embarrassing.”
There’s a roaring in my ears, like I’m suddenly underwater. Ray thinks I’m awkward and embarrassing. I embarrass him by my awkward existence. I know I’m a stubborn person. I know I don’t have friends at school. But I never thought my own brother felt this way. And even if he did, I never thought he’d ever say it to my face.
“You’re so nasty all the time,” Ray continues. “Do you think no one noticed that at Friday dinner you barely said a word to Faith or Louise? Faith is your friend and still you treat her that way.”
I try to swallow, but it’s like something is stuck in my throat. I would never be mean to Faith of all people.
“I was just trying to understand what was going on with Dad and Louise. Maybe if I didn’t get left out all the time, I wouldn’t have been so surprised,” I say.
These Unlucky Stars Page 11
