by Sandra Byrd
Faceus the sunflowerus, I thought and laughed out loud.
“What’s so funny? Care to share?”
I sat straight up and opened my eyes, trying to focus a little. “Oh, hey, Tommy.” I hoped my hair wasn’t splayed all over the place. “Nothing funny. I’m just happy. It’s sunny and I love England and I’m full of joy and it’s a beautiful day.”
Why did all that come out? I had just shared my heart with him. And he’d only asked me a simple question. I hoped he didn’t think I was, as the Brits said, “barking mad.”
He smiled at me. “Paper coming out tomorrow, eh?”
I nodded. It really was nice of him to remember that.
“I thought you did a great job on the Taylor Swift song at church. I’m glad I made it in enough time to hear you.”
“Were you at soccer—I mean, football?” I asked.
“Yep. I also invited a couple of people from school to come. But Bill was playing an away game, and Chloe and Maddie had too much homework.”
Ah. Must be their double dates. Tommy and Chloe, Bill and Maddie.
The passing bell rang, and I knew I had to hurry to literature and he was on his way to lunch. I stood and ran my hands through my hair so I’d be presentable in class.
“See you around,” I said, distancing myself.
“Keep that joy,” he said and headed into second lunch. Chloe was probably already there.
Rhys, too.
Chapter 36
I’d told Rhys that I’d meet him at Fishcoteque after school. He was there. But so was one of his mates. It seemed a little odd, but maybe his friend had already been there when he arrived.
I got a Fanta from Jeannie, who didn’t seem quite as cheery again that day. It bothered me, but I shrugged it off. Rhys’s friend disappeared back to the dart zone as soon as he saw me heading toward the booth. Rhys scooted over on his side of the booth, but I slid in across the table from him instead.
“How’s your day going?” he asked. “No more run-ins with Nasty Natalie?”
I grinned at the nickname. “Nope. She stays on her side of the ring, and I stay on mine.”
Rhys laughed. “I can’t imagine you boxing. You’re too nice.” The way he said it, it didn’t exactly sound like a wholehearted compliment. But I wasn’t going to be paranoid about it.
He sat across from me, silent, and I fiddled with the napkin, silent too. I had to admit, a certain part of me enjoyed the power of saying nothing when I knew he was expecting me to talk. For once I had the upper hand between us. Which was an odd thought, actually. I jumped right in.
“Thank you so much for inviting me to the May Day Ball,” I started out. “I’d really like to go, and I think we’d have a lot of fun as friends.” I emphasized the word friends.
“That’s great, Savvy,” he said. “I think we’ll have a great time. We can split the limo four ways with Ian—” he jerked his thumb toward the dart area, where his friend was playing—“and his date. I can let you know the cost later.”
Good. I liked that. Even though it would cost me more money if we were splitting the bill, it would seem more friendlike and less datelike. “Sounds good. Text me the total, and I’ll talk to my parents.”
“Maybe we could meet each other’s parents?” he suggested. “Have dinner together?”
“I don’t think we need to,” I said. “My parents haven’t met all of my friends here. And certainly not their parents.” Except for Penny, of course, but she was my best friend. “They’ll meet you when you come to pick me up.”
“Okay. I just thought they might want to, you know, get to know me a little better. Since we’ll be, uh, closer . . . friends.”
“No need,” I said.
“Oh, hey. Just a minute.” He waved Ian over and asked him for his phone. “I’m going to punch your number into Ian’s phone. My mum took mine earlier this week after I, well, uh, never mind why. But if you need me, text Ian. And if I need you, I’ll text you from Ian’s phone.”
Wow. He really wanted to make sure he could stay in touch with me at all times.
We chatted for a few minutes, with him well at ease and me ill at ease, and then I said I’d better head home. A thick fog capped the day as I rounded the corner of Cinnamon Street toward the warm glow of Kew Cottage.
Mom was cooking as I walked into the kitchen. I noticed a book on the counter. She peeked at it as she stirred whatever was on the stovetop.
I glanced at the cover of the book as I headed to the fridge for a snack.
“Good day?” she asked.
“Yep!”
“Good! I have a great idea. On Saturday let’s go to that shop you’ve been talking about—Be@titude—and see if we can find you a great dress and some shoes.”
That perked me up. “Sounds great!” I dug around in the fridge till I found a jar of mandarin orange slices to take upstairs to my room. Once there, I sat on the floor with my jar and a fork and my guitar.
I looked at the music for a while, trying to decide what to practice next. I forked a few mandarin oranges till I realized how much the chubby slices looked like the koi in Aunt Tricia’s backyard pond. I was no fanatic like Louanne, but even I couldn’t eat them after that.
I opened the music. One title definitely caught my eye. “You Don’t Have to Call Me.” Why hadn’t I spoken up and said I didn’t want Ian to have my number?
Too nice, maybe.
Chapter 37
Thursday afternoon I came right home and thwapped that day’s Wexburg Academy Times down in front of Louanne, who was in the kitchen once again. “Here you go,” I said. “Practically ran home, as I promised I would.”
“Thanks, Savvy.” She gave me the first genuine smile I’d seen in a long time. But she wouldn’t open the paper before I left the kitchen. I peeked in from the living room and noticed Louanne moving toward the back door.
Dear Asking for Trouble,
I have a big problem and I don’t know what to do. It’s not dangerus, but it could be a bigger problem really soon. My family is nice, but if I tell anyone, they’ll make me do something I really can’t do and then I would have to disobey and get in even more trouble. What should I do?
Dear Dangerus,
It’s really hard to have a big problem and keep it all to yourself. Sometimes there are ideas or solutions you can’t see that someone else can. That’s why it’s always wise to get a few opinions or help from other people when trying to solve your problems. Why don’t you ask someone with the same values as you to help you out? That way they won’t ask you to do something you really can’t do, and you won’t have to disobey, either. Give yourself no more than one week to figure out who that might be. I can assure you that asking for help is better than asking for trouble.
Trustworthily Yours,
Asking for Trouble
Today was Thursday. I’d give her till Saturday the seventeenth, a week plus one day’s grace, and if she hadn’t spoken up by then, I’d have to break my own code of silence and let her know who I was.
Of course, someone else already knew who I was. I was toying with the idea of e-mailing them back, but I wondered if ignoring it altogether was a better strategy. I had to figure it out before someone else did. Like Natalie.
Chapter 38
Saturday afternoon was rainy, but Mom and I decided to walk to Be@titude anyway and make a day of it. We huddled together under a large brolly, giggling as we made our way up Cinnamon Street. Several others recognized us by now and waved in a friendly manner.
“Bit damp—can’t let it get the best of us then, right?” one plump neighbor lady said as her broom tsk-tsked correctingly across her damp sidewalk, brushing cigarette butts, soppy leaves, and a stray piece of paper into an obedient pile.
“Of course not!” Mom called back with a cheery wave. I think we’d earned some respect points by not letting the wet get to us.
“Let’s have tea beforehand,” Mom offered. Never one to turn down a snack, I agreed.
/> We walked up to the Orange Pekoe, and Mom shook and closed the umbrella before we walked in. A matronly woman with a white apron as wide as her smile greeted us. “Drop your brollies in the bucket, please!” she said before seating us at a cozy table near the window. She handed a tea menu to each of us—yes, a whole menu with only tea selections on it. I ordered blackberry bramble, and Mom ordered queen’s choice. A few minutes later, our waitress came by and set two plump white pots on the table along with charmingly chipped white china cups. Right in the middle of our table she gently set down a three-tiered tray with plates of treats on it.
“Lower tray you’ll find your sandwiches and such,” she said. “Do try the watercress. It’s particularly lovely today.” She then pointed out the middle layer. “Here are the hot items. Youse might want to try them first. Crab cakes, a little quiche. Mistress Brown in the back prides herself on the quiche.” She then indicated the smallish plate on top. “The sweets, of course. Little pot of sticky toffee pudding. Our homemade biscuits. And chocolate custard. Our specialty.”
She toddled back to the kitchen, and Mom and I started in on our food and tea. “Are you excited?” she asked me.
“About the tea?”
“About the dance, silly. And the dress.”
“I am so excited about the dress, Mom. I only hope she still has the one I like. Although . . . I don’t know how much it costs.” I had some money saved, but I was going to need help from Mom and Dad. I was well aware that this whole deal was going to cost a bundle. Dress, shoes, ball tickets, splitting the limo. Rhys had insisted on paying for my dinner. I had reluctantly agreed.
“And how about Rhys?” Mom asked. “Is he excited?”
I didn’t want to tell her that I thought it unlikely he got excited about anything because she’d like him even less than she did now. But I also didn’t like keeping secrets from my mom. Louanne had a secret. It wasn’t a good thing. Was mine? “I think he’s really looking forward to it,” I said. I popped a crab cake into my mouth and then ate some pudding and tried a watercress sandwich even though I was full to bursting. If I kept eating, I didn’t have to talk.
Mom didn’t seem to mind. She was going on about all the flowers she’d seen on her latest excursion to a huge garden centre the day she drove Dad to work so she could take the car. “The things I could do if I had that whole back garden,” she said. “It wouldn’t be big like your friends’ gardens,” she mused. “But I’d think of a theme.”
Just as we were about to pay, I heard an argument starting a few tables behind me. By nature or culture, British people have soft, controlled voices, especially in public. So a loud disagreement would certainly be considered bad form.
“So rude,” Mom said. “She looks to be about your age, and she’s treating her mother terribly.”
I could hear some of the things being said, and they sure didn’t sound kind. I couldn’t help it. Even though I didn’t have my notebook (in fact, I left it home more often now), my journalist’s sensibilities got the best of me. I had to see who that was.
“I’m going to the loo,” I said. “Before we shop.”
As I stood up, I purposely dropped my purse on the floor so I could turn around to see who it was. She didn’t seem to recognize me, but I recognized her.
Chloe.
Chapter 39
As we walked into Be@titude, the door chimes twinkled a merry hello. Becky was helping a customer and there was another one in line, but she gave me a little wave to show she’d be right with me. It felt really grown-up, actually, having the store owner recognize me.
“Over here,” I said to Mom. I headed to the rack where the tea green dress had been a few weeks back when I’d been here with Penny. As I looked through the rack for my size, the dresses were so thick and some so puffy that they crushed into each other. At first glance, I couldn’t find the one I was looking for. “Maybe it’s pressed between some of the other dresses,” I said. I went through every dress in that size. Nothing.
“It’s gone,” I said. I just knew it. Truthfully, I would have been surprised if such a great dress had still been there.
“Let’s look in the other sizes,” Mom said. “If there’s a larger one, we could have it taken in.”
I shook my head. “Nope. Becky only buys one of each style. She told me herself.” I looked up and Becky caught my eye, smiled, and turned her attention to the woman she was helping. The first customer had already completed her purchase, so I knew I was next.
“There have to be some other beauties,” Mom said. She held up a yellow gossamer number.
“Mom, I’d look like Rapunzel in that,” I said. “Yellow washes me out.”
“This?”
I grimaced. Lavender was fine for flowers, but not for a gown. I finally found one in deep red that might work. It looked more fall than spring, but hey, beggars couldn’t be choosers, right? This was what came of waiting till the last minute. Not that I could help it.
Becky walked over. “Hullo, Savvy. Thanks for waiting. This must be your mum?”
Mom held out her hand. “So pleased to meet you. Savvy’s told me all about you and your ministry here.”
Becky grinned. “You’re raising a top journalist,” she said. “I fully expect to see her byline in the Times of London someday.”
“I hope to see it in the Times of Wexburg Academy first,” I teased. “So would you help me find a dress?” I tried to keep the disappointment over the loss of the tea green gown out of my voice.
“Going to the May Day Ball after all, then?”
I nodded. I knew I wasn’t beaming, but I was pleased.
“I might have something in the back,” she said. Mom and I looked at shoes while we waited. A few minutes later she swished out of the back with a dress in a clear plastic bag.
“Faeries!” I squealed. “That’s it, Mom; that’s it!”
Becky laughed out loud. “I just had a feeling that you’d end up at the May Day Ball. I set it in the back figuring I’d sell it during wedding season if not now. But I’m very glad it’s going home with its rightful owner.” She held the hanger out to me, and I dashed toward the try-on rooms in the back.
I wriggled out of my jeans and sweater and slipped the gown over my head. It fell . . . perfectly. It fit me in all the right places, neither too tight nor too loose. It brought out the natural highlights in my hair. I wouldn’t need to wear high heels to pull it off—and giraffe over Rhys, who was the same height as me.
I stepped out of the changing room and onto the showroom floor, debuting the dress in my anklets and no shoes.
“Oh, Savvy, that is perfect,” Mom said. “It’s exactly you.”
I twirled a little for effect—something I hadn’t done since I’d tried out for the baton-twirling team as a kid.
“Shall I bag it up, then?” Becky asked.
“Not if that means I have to take it off!” I said.
She and Mom laughed. “Today is not a good day to walk home in a ball gown,” Becky said. “I have just the accessory for you.” She reached into the glass cabinet up front and took out a tiny pair of peridot earrings. “They’ll twinkle just a little bit in the mirror-ball lights.”
I went to take the dress off, running my hand down it once more before handing it over to Becky. Mom arranged to pick up the dress later that week when she had the car. After we paid, I slipped the earrings into my purse, a promise of the night to come.
“Have you talked with Rhys much since you agreed to go?” Mom asked on the walk home. “Are you going to have him match your colors? Maybe you should text him so he can get a tie or cummerbund that matches your dress.”
“Good idea.” I didn’t mention that he was grounded from his phone for some unknown reason and that while Ian had my number, I didn’t have his. “Or I’ll tell him on Monday.”
Chapter 40
The next week flew by pretty quickly. I had a lot of work to do—they always poured it on before the term break, which was coming aft
er the May Day Ball this year in order to take advantage of the bank holiday. I had a lot of homework and was particularly proud of my essay on Katherine Parr, the last queen of Henry VIII and, as far as I could tell, the first Protestant Christian queen.
On Thursday I arrived at the paper office early so I could get everything delivered and still have time to study for a trig quiz. Natalie was there, typing away and ignoring the depressing vibe she radiated in every direction.
“Hi, Savannah,” she said, starting a conversation with me for like the first time ever. I was immediately en garde, a new phrase I’d learned in French.
“Hi, Natalie.” I went about my business, loading up my bag with that morning’s papers.
“I hear you’re going to the May Day Ball,” she said. I looked up. “Melissa mentioned it.”
I knew Melissa had been trying to be nice and show Natalie that I had plans for the ball even if they didn’t include writing the article. Still. “I am.”
“With Rhys Bowen.”
Wow, she knew his last name. “Yeah. I didn’t know you knew each other.”
“We met last year,” she said. “Before I moved. We’d consoled each other about how hard it was to move in secondary school.”
Well, then. Rhys must have a thing for journalists. Or he’d needed help last year, too. Or he was a big player. Or he was nice to everyone. Or all of the above. He hadn’t mentioned that he’d known her when he called her Nasty Natalie. Though come to think of it, I remembered his saying that he liked journalists. But that he didn’t know any.
