by Sandra Byrd
“That’s nice,” I said. Part of me thought, You’re two mushy peas in a pod. The other part of me felt ashamed for thinking that about my friend and May Day date. Who had . . . lied to me?
I loaded the bag and prayed the entire time I made my deliveries. Not my usual prayers about keeping my Asking for Trouble column a secret or for Louanne or for this whole boy mess. I repented of the way I’d begun to think and speak and asked the Lord to help me, to give me the answer about what I should do to get back to being myself.
Chapter 41
Rhys found me after school. I didn’t mention Natalie to him. For some reason I didn’t want him to know that I knew.
“Hey, Savannah.” He slid onto the bench alongside me. “I’m glad to finally find you alone. You’re always surrounded with people, and we can never be alone.”
“Busy week,” I said. “I’m sure you’ve got a lot going on too.”
“Yeah.” He reached out to take my hand. I thought he was going to put something in it, so I let him take it, but then he enfolded my hand in his and squeezed it shut. I let my backpack slip off my shoulder so I could remove my hand from his to right it again. Then I slipped my hand into my pocket.
“Any chance we could hang out this weekend? to see a film or something?”
I shook my head. “Maybe . . . but . . .”
“As friends . . . good friends,” he said. “Don’t you ever go to movies with friends, Savannah?”
“It’s my dad’s birthday this weekend,” I said. “I’m afraid I’m really busy. Sorry. We can talk Monday?” Two weeks till the dance. The money my parents had spent. The day-after garden and tea party. And I was a girl who kept her word. I was going to keep it to Rhys.
“Too bad,” he said. “We could have had a good time. If you know how to have a good time, that is.”
I looked at him.
“I’m just kidding.” His voice was sincere, but his eyes were not. “Monday it is. I’ll be thinking of you till then!” He grinned. I could still see the wolfish good looks that had originally drawn me to him, but I felt like maybe I was starting to see a glimpse of something more.
Or less.
Chapter 42
When I got home on Friday afternoon, Mom was already in a dither. “We have to hurry!” she squawked, then flapped around the rest of the house hanging black streamers and clots of black balloons. “He’ll be home in an hour. Savvy—go check and see if the cake is done.”
“Me? A cake?” I ruined everything in the kitchen. I even managed to wreck cereal, for crying out loud.
“Don’t ask questions. Just do it!”
I did as I was told. I opened the smallish cooker—that would be oven, to us Americans—and looked at the cake. I jiggled the door handle a little, and the cake wobbled in the middle. That meant it wasn’t done yet. Right? I jiggled the door handle a little more, and a small indentation fell in the center of the cake. I quickly closed the cooker door.
I’d told her not to have me check. “I don’t think it’s done!” I called out. Just then my phone vibrated. A new text.
Hey.
That was all it said.
I didn’t recognize the number, and all my friends were programmed into my phone. Who was it?
Ian! I mean Rhys. Or Ian. I didn’t know which, and I didn’t have time to figure it out right then.
“Savvy! Please come in here and get rid of these shoes and this backpack and all the other junk you’ve left lying around.” I heard the tone in my mom’s voice. It meant now.
I ignored the text and gathered all my stuff into a large laundry basket and hauled it up the stairs. Louanne was lying on her bed. “Come on, we’ve got a lot to do.”
“I know,” she answered lethargically. “I’m hurrying.”
“Hurrying like the dead?” This had gone on too long. I had half a mind to confront her right then and there, but my phone jingled. This time it was a ring and not a text. I checked the number. Ian again! I cut it off mid-ring. Louanne rolled off her bed and headed downstairs. I cleaned up my room and then headed down the stairs myself. Mom sat on the couch going over an invisible list.
“As soon as I get the cake out of the oven, we’ll all change into our black clothes.”
“Black clothes?” I asked.
Mom smiled for the first time that afternoon. “Yes. We’re wearing black since it’s Dad’s fortieth birthday.”
Well, now, that sounded fun. A clothing theme. I immediately started going over potential outfits in my mind.
“Then when Dad comes home, we’ll yell, ‘Surprise!’ After he changes we’ll head to Criminal Barbecue for dinner and come back here and open gifts and then—”
My phone rang again, loud. I couldn’t take it anymore. I answered it and said, “Please do not call me anymore. I’m very busy!”
Mom and Louanne both stared at me. “Wow,” Mom said. “That was kind of harsh. Who was that?”
“Rhys’s stupid friend,” I said. “Or Rhys. But I told him I was busy this weekend anyway.”
“Oh,” Mom said. I knew by her look that she thought I’d been rude. And, well, I had been. Which was not like me.
“Well, you girls go change. I’m going to call Aunt Maude and make sure everything is on for tomorrow,” Mom finished.
“What?” I said. “Aunt Maude?”
“Yes, Savvy. Dad and I are going to Mercedes-Benz World in Surrey for his birthday and then for a late dinner out. Aunt Maude is coming to stay with you.”
“Mom! I’m nearly sixteen years old. I can take care of us for the day.”
Mom looked as though she were about to waver when Louanne spoke up. “Please let Aunt Maude come. I really want her to. Don’t change anything.” Her voice was pleading.
“Okay, we’ll stick with the original plan,” Mom said.
Louanne looked like the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. She seemed to be ten years old again and not a hunched-over old lady like she had for the past few weeks. “Okay.” She smiled. “Let’s get changed.”
Chapter 43
I’d never been to a fortieth birthday party before, but it was actually okay. I stuffed myself on barbecue and ate cake that had a slightly soggy middle—from hob jiggling, I suspect, but no one said anything. Dad loved his presents and wore his driving goggles all night to get ready for his test-drive at Mercedes-Benz World the next day.
I felt happy. And confident again, like I hadn’t for quite a while. So I made a decision. Nothing more had come of the e-mail saying that someone knew my identity. It had just occurred to me that the person who wrote it probably didn’t know me. It was sent to the Asking for Trouble e-mail address, after all. Who knows? Maybe it was someone trying to fake me out. I wouldn’t answer the e-mail. If I did, then the person would be sure to know who I was.
Just the kind of bad journalism someone like Natalie was capable of. I wasn’t falling for it.
Chapter 44
“Hullo, dears.” Aunt Maude breezed into the house and hung her British nanny cape on the hook just inside the door. “I’ve brought the Stinking Bishop with me.”
Louanne and I looked at each other. Then I discreetly went to the door as Aunt Maude headed for the kitchen. I opened the door and looked outside. No bishop there. Or pastor or priest or anyone else.
“Who did you say you brought?” Louanne asked sweetly.
“Not who, dear, whom. If you’re going to speak English, please speak it properly. And in this case, it’s not whom, but what.” She reached into her bag and took out a large wedge of runny cheese wrapped in waxed paper. “Stinking Bishop. Smells bad but tastes lovely. For lunch, of course.”
Louanne and I looked at each other and almost burst out in giggles.
“Come along, then. Let’s have lunch, and then we’ll make a plan for the rest of the day.” She turned on the hob, then reached down and scratched Growl behind the ears. He immediately rolled over and bared his big belly for a tummy rub. She obliged, and Louanne
burst into a smile.
Half an hour later we sat at the kitchen table. Aunt Maude served up the Stinking Bishop with a side of bread. Louanne, the vegetarian, dutifully ate some. If you asked me, it smelled like wet dog or Dad’s gym socks after a long tennis match. I thought back to my science class. Lots of bacteria culture here. Lots. I dug into a flaky pie she’d set in front of me.
“Delicious!” I said, forking the crust and slurping up the gravy. “What is it?”
“Kidney pie, of course,” Aunt Maude answered matter-of-factly.
Kidney pie. Of course. The kidneys had probably been taken from the organ donors buried in the back garden. Which reminded me . . .
“Aunt Maude, I have a favor to ask you. I wonder . . . I wonder if we might spend the afternoon cleaning up the back garden area.”
Louanne dropped her knife and her jaw.
“Whatever for, dear?”
“Well,” I answered, “Mom really likes to garden and, in fact, might be invited to join the Wexburg Ladies Association and Garden Club.”
“My goodness, that’s quite an accomplishment,” Maude said approvingly. “I think it would be wonderful for her to spruce up the back with some new plants—breathe new life into the garden, as it were. And a lovely thought for you girls to do the work for her as a surprise for her return this evening. I’ll sit outside and supervise. And whip up a little snack when you get peckish.”
“No!” Louanne stood up so abruptly, her plate clattered to the floor.
Chapter 45
Aunt Maude and I looked at each other in surprise. Just as Aunt Maude was going to intervene, Louanne turned to me. “Savvy, would you please leave me alone with Aunt Maude for a minute?”
“Sure.” I headed up to my room. What did they have to talk about that didn’t include me? Could it be related, somehow, to Louanne’s problem?
A few minutes later Louanne called me. “You can come down now.”
When I walked downstairs, I was shocked to find Growl locked in his crate like a petty thief, staring at me—me, his archenemy!—to spring him, when two dog lovers had obviously locked him up.
Another surprise awaited me in the kitchen. “Whose cat is that?” I asked with astonishment as I saw Aunt Maude holding a thin orange tabby.
Louanne sneezed. Twice. “It’s bmine,” she said, her nose already stuffing up.
“That’s not your cat! You’re allergic to cats. And so is Dad,” I said, words slowing down as it all began to make sense. So this little guy was Louanne’s big problem.
“How did this happen?” I said as the kitten cuddled in Aunt Maude’s ample, soft arms and Growl actually did growl in the background.
“Well, one day I was taking the dog out in the morning, and this little thing was shivering by the back door. She was really skinny. I could see her ribs, just like they show you on the animal rescue shows on TV. So I went back into the house and got a little water and gave it to the cat.”
“So then what?”
“Well, then I brought a towel for it to nest on way back where the garden is tangled, and it kept rubbing itself up against me to be friends, which made my allergies bad. And I got cat dander on my clothes. And then that got to Dad. And then he started having trouble too.” She sneezed again, and Aunt Maude stepped back.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” I asked.
“We don’t know anyone here in Wexburg who could take a cat,” Louanne said, shrugging her shoulders in a gesture that was more mature than her ten years. “I didn’t want it to go to the pound. Where it might . . . die!”
Aah! So there was the inspiration for her Scrabble vocabulary.
“Bosh,” Aunt Maude said. “We’re not going to let this cat go to the rescue shelter. I’ll just ring up a few people and we’ll have her a home in no time.”
Sure enough, while I washed and dried the dishes and Louanne blew her way through a whole box of Kleenex, Aunt Maude rung a few people. Half an hour later, Tabby had a home.
“I’ll be back soon,” Aunt Maude promised, swirling her cape around her as she breezed out the door.
While we finished the kitchen, I asked Louanne what finally made her ask for help. “The cat was starting to scratch me. And it was making me sick—and Dad, too. I wrote . . . well, I wrote in to the Asking for Trouble person at your school.” She blushed. “I’m sorry, Savvy, but that’s really why I was so interested in the paper. Not that I’m not interested in you, too.”
“No problem,” I said. “I had an extra reason for going to your dog show, too.”
Her runny nose had slowed down now that Tabby was gone. “Anyway, that Asking for Trouble person told me to talk to someone who had the same values as me. Only I didn’t know anyone else who loves animals like I do. Until Mom said Aunt Maude was coming. She does.”
Yeah, Savvy. You’d better listen up too. Who do you know who shares your values? Who do you need to ask for help? Because it’s not getting better; it’s only making you worse.
Chapter 46
Monday morning at school, Penny pulled me aside. “Hey, Tommy just asked me for your number . . . again. Said he was pretty sure he’d written down the wrong one last time he asked me. I think Chloe overheard too.”
“Did he say what he wanted?” I asked, remaining calm on the outside. On the inside, I was running over how my hair looked, if my lip gloss was fresh, and if my eyeliner could have smudged in this morning’s typical mist.
She shook her head. “Nope, he didn’t say anything more. I hope it’s okay that I gave it to him.” She looked slyly at me.
I punched her arm and went to class.
Chapter 47
Tommy didn’t call Monday. Or Tuesday. I saw him in the hallway, and he waved and grinned. I knew I could ask Penny to find out from him what he’d wanted, but it seemed desperate and needy, and I didn’t want to do it. If he had wanted to call me, he would have.
Wednesday night I was a little late getting into the coffeehouse, and I slipped in next to Supriya midway through worship. I hated missing worship. Joe caught my eye from the stage and nodded in my direction. I smiled. I knew he’d keep me in mind for worship someday. I just had to wait. My favorite discipline. Kidding!
I sang, and as I did, I imagined how it would be. One of the worship team members would become really sick—whoever that dude was up there who was playing guitar. No, no, that’s not right. He would move! Or even better, he’d go on a long mission trip. Which would leave an opening for me. Joe would ask me to fill in with very little notice, and I would. I’d become a part of the team, and they’d invite me to join permanently, even when that other guy came back from, uh, Moldova or Lisbon or wherever he’d gone on a mission. And then Tommy would see me up on the stage and have great pangs of regret—
“Savvy!” Supriya tugged my arm. “Everyone else is sitting down.”
I snapped out of it and looked around. I was the only one standing. I slid into my seat, making eye contact with no one on the way down.
Louanne had followed my advice. Shouldn’t I follow my own? Who had my values?
Jenny. My newly assigned youth group leader.
I listened to Jenny chat about the lesson with us girls, and then when the groups broke up, I asked her if I could speak with her in private. “Of course, Savvy.” We headed over to a couch in a corner of the room.
“So here’s my problem,” I began explaining to her. “There’s this guy I’m going to the May Day Ball with. But I’m really confused.”
She didn’t interrupt me but just waited patiently while I kept talking. I took a deep breath and went on.
“Anyway, when I first met him, I kind of felt sorry for him. He was new, he said, like I was. And I could help him, and he seemed very negative and I thought it would be good if I could share my faith with him.”
Jenny nodded knowingly. I had the feeling she’d been there before, and it gave me courage to keep talking.
“So all my friends were going to the ball, and I didn’t have
a date yet, and my best friend wanted to invite my mom to something that she could only go to if I had a ball gown. So when this boy asked me . . . I said yes.”
“I see,” Jenny said. “But now you’re sorry you did?”
“I am. Because the more I got to know him, the more sarcastic he got and he was cutting me down in little ways I couldn’t exactly pin down. And he started wanting to be more than friends, even though I told him I didn’t.”
“Does he treat you with respect?” Jenny asked. “Is he truly interested in you, or only in what you can do for him? Is he honest?”
I thought about that. He didn’t really dis me, but whenever I was with him, I always ended up feeling worse about myself because of his little wounds. Kind of like . . . paper cuts. Which reminded me that he hadn’t been really honest about Natalie either. “I don’t think so,” I said. “But I do know that I don’t like how I feel most of the time when I’ve been with him. And I don’t like who I’ve become lately.”
Jenny opened her Bible to One Corinthians. “Remember when we studied this in our Corinthians series?” She pointed to a section. I read it on the page:
“Yeah, I remember that now,” I said. I’d breezed right by it at the time, never thinking that anything like that could ever happen to me.
“Do you think that could be true in your case?” Jenny asked.
“Maybe. But what about all the money my parents already spent?”
“You could return your dress,” Jenny suggested. “And the shoes and stuff, right?”
I nodded. “But they’ve already paid for the limo. And, well, didn’t I give my word to him that I’d go?”
“You did,” Jenny said. “But nobody agrees to be poorly treated. He also doesn’t seem like he’s taking you seriously when you said you wanted to remain friends.”
