In Your Shoes

by Donna Gephart

  Fiona pulled her shoulders back, trying to make herself feel worthwhile, like she belonged in any place of high regard, even though a tiny voice inside her told her she didn’t.

  Fiona came across fields that didn’t look so different from the fields where she lived back home. But these fields felt different, especially because it was nighttime and Fiona was never out in her fields at night. Darkness was a time for sleeping, not for tromping through the outdoors. In fact, Fiona felt awfully tired. But she was scared, too, which kept her mind alert.

  She hadn’t expected to miss her father, but she did. Desperately. And Fiona realized she hadn’t told him where she was going or why. He would surely worry for her safety.

  Should she simply return home? Abandon her quest?

  It would be such a long walk back. And if she gave up on getting a reward for the shoe, they’d remain in the same sad situation—winter coming and not enough food. Never enough food!

  “What do you think?” Fiona whispered to her loyal dog.

  Lucky looked up at her with big, hopeful eyes and barked once.

  “Shush. No telling who’s out here with us.” Then Fiona gave him a few pieces of her hard biscuit because he was such a good dog, and she knew he must be as hungry as she. At the sight of the biscuit, Fiona’s stomach erupted with a growl nearly as loud as Lucky’s bark. She quieted her belly with a few pieces of biscuit for herself. “That’s it for now,” Fiona told Lucky. “We’ve got to make it last. Let’s go find something to drink and, I hope, the person to whom this shoe belongs. I’m sure he’ll want it back.”

  Even though her legs were weary and she was thirsty and afraid, Fiona soldiered on. She and Lucky tromped through dark fields and crossed dirt roads until they came upon a massive structure—bigger than anything Fiona had ever seen.

  It was an enormous stone castle, surrounded by a moat that burbled below the grassy bank under Fiona’s feet. The night was dark, with barely a quarter moon to light their way, and she could see no way to cross the moat. Fiona was glad for the dim light because she didn’t want to see what creatures lived in the moat—those she imagined were frightening enough. And she didn’t want anyone to be able to see her and Lucky either.

  A creaking sound broke through the night. Chains were released as a heavy drawbridge was lowered from the castle until it thumped hard onto the bank next to Fiona and Lucky.

  The vibrations made Fiona shudder.

  Lucky backed away from the edge of the drawbridge and tucked his tail between his legs.

  “It’s okay, boy,” Fiona whispered, reaching down to pet the top of her dog’s head, even though she wasn’t sure anything was okay.

  A hulking, shadowy figure appeared from the castle and marched toward Fiona and Lucky.

  “Maybe we should go home.” Fiona wished she could sprout wings and fly all the way back home with Lucky secure in her arms. But the truth was, Fiona couldn’t move. Her legs felt like solid tree trunks with long roots planted firmly in the ground.

  As the figure advanced, Lucky growled but moved back another few steps.

  Fiona wished desperately she were home, sleeping in their humble abode, with her father on his bed of straw, snoring wildly. Not having enough food to last through winter didn’t seem so bad at the moment. She wondered why she’d made the long, dangerous journey and silently cursed the shoe that had brought her there, the one clutched in her trembling hand.

  Fiona smelled the figure before she saw him clearly. He stank of sweat and old meat. And blood. He smelled like…trouble.

  The huge man planted his dirt-encrusted boots and held a spear across his chest. “Who goes there?” he demanded. “What business have you with the royal family?”

  Lucky shivered beside Fiona’s leg.

  Fiona shook, too. She held out the shoe with its shiny buckle, which seemed dull in the weak moonlight. “I—I…found…,” Fiona stammered, her heart a clenched fist.

  “Speak, girl!” the huge man demanded.

  How had she gotten herself and Lucky into this mess? At least, she consoled herself, it couldn’t possibly get worse than it was at this miserable moment.

  That was when many more men, bigger and broader than the first, came pounding, thumping, pulsing along the drawbridge toward them, spears and spirits raised. “Aaaiiiiiyyyaaa!”

  A vibration from Amy’s phone startled her. She didn’t want to leave her story world, didn’t want to abandon Fiona and Lucky in danger, but the text was from Kat, so Amy reluctantly let the story world slip away and focused on her phone and the real world.

  I’m so glad you made a friend today.

  Thoughts of Tate flooded Amy’s mind. Tate’s Motel Pool Blue nail polish. The Jelly Krimpet. The penguin hat. Her tight grip when she shook Amy’s hand. And the crazy combination of clothing patterns she wore that somehow looked really cool on her.

  Amy texted:

  She’ll never be as awesome as you.

  Kat’s response was quick.

  Course not!

  Amy sent a few silly emojis.

  Then Kat wrote:

  Tomorrow will be even better for you. Btw Mom said I could visit in the spring.

  Awesome!!! Sneak Ernest into your suitcase.

  Wish I could!

  Amy put her notebook and pen away. She realized how tired she was.

  There’s this boy, she texted.

  Yes?????­?????­?

  He spilled his drink on me.

  No!!!!!! Smooth move, Romeo.

  I know. Right?

  Stay away from that one.

  If Amy had been honest, she would have admitted there was something about Miles she didn’t want to stay away from. Something in his eyes. Something about the way he’d said “Sorry. Sorry.” Like he’d meant it. Something charming about his impossible klutziness.

  I will, I guess.

  But would she?

  Whatcha doing now?

  Going to bed.

  What? It’s so early!

  It’s 11:30!

  Forgot. It’s 10:30 here.

  Oh, right. G’night, Kat.

  G’night, Ames.

  As Amy drifted off to sleep that night, gentle words from her mom floated through her mind: G’night, sweets. Pleasant dreams.

  Amy sighed and settled in. G’night, Mom. I love you.

  Love you, too, sweets.

  Miles woke with a dreadful, heart-pounding feeling, like something terrible might happen. Maybe he’d just had a bad dream. Whatever it was, he felt exhausted and wished he could go back to sleep. But if he hoped to get in a few practice frames before Randall arrived at the bowling center, he had to get moving.

  As Miles dressed, he remembered spilling his root beer all over Amy’s lap. Great way to make up with her for what happened to her forehead. Why was he such a klutz sometimes?

  Miles knew bowling would take his mind off what a fool he’d made of himself with Amy. The bowling center was the one place he felt confident he’d have all the right moves, where at least he knew what the right moves were. Where everything made sense, and he was too practiced to make a fool of himself or do anything clumsy. Where it felt easy to be his best self.

  Miles got to the bowling center before Randall, and the extra bit of practice paid off. He beat Randall by thirty-eight points and snapped up a cool five bucks from his friend, reminding himself that when he had enough for his grandfather’s gift—which he almost did—he’d be done betting people on the lanes. Miles remembered how it made him feel when those guys nearl
y hustled him.

  Randall tied the laces on his shiny sneakers. “I’m asking her today.”

  “Asking who?” Miles switched from one pair of bowling shoes to the other.

  Randall hit Miles in the chest with the back of his hand. “Tate. The dance. Duh.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Miles avoided thinking about the dance, even though there were posters everywhere at school and people kept making more and more elaborate dance-posals. “How are you going to ask?”

  “I have a sign and…there’s this thing I need to…well…you need to help me.”

  “Oh, great.”

  Randall stood and shrugged on his jacket. “Thanks for all the support.”

  “Sorry. Sorry. I’ll help. What do I have to do?” Miles ran his fingers through his hair. “Can’t you just, you know, ask her? You’ve been friends for, like, forever.”

  “No, I can’t just ask her! Come on. I’ll tell you everything on the way to school. I don’t want to be late.”

  Miles took a breath. “For the ten-billionth time, Rand, we’re not going to be late.”

  As the boys grabbed their stuff, Grandpop Billy called from the snack counter, “Hurry up, you two, before you’re late!”

  “Told you,” Randall said.

  Miles looked over at his grandfather, about to tell him they weren’t going to be late. But his grandpop’s face seemed pale. Paler than usual. Maybe it was the dim lighting over the snack bar, but something didn’t seem right, and Miles had had that worried feeling when he woke today. “You need anything before we go, Pop?”

  Grandpop Billy waved them away, then put his hand on his chest. “I’m good. You get going now.”

  Why did he put his hand on his chest like that? Miles wondered. Is he getting pains again?

  “Let’s go!” Randall insisted, pulling on Miles’s sleeve.

  The boys hurried to the doors of the bowling center with Miles glancing back at his grandfather. Please be okay, Pop.

  Miles and Randall left the warmth of Buckington Bowl to face the frozen tundra on their walk to school. The whole way, while Randall explained his plan to ask Tate to the dance, Miles worried that his grandfather might have another heart attack. And this one, he feared, could be worse than the last.

  During first period, Miles thought he’d explode from worry, so he got a pass to go to the bathroom, and he texted his mom from there.

  Pop didn’t look good this morning. He was holding his chest, like maybe it hurt. Let me know he’s okay. Okay?

  His mom replied right away.

  Your grandpop’s fine, Miles. I’m right here with him, having coffee. Stop worrying!!!

  Miles was sure that his grandpop’s face had looked extra pale that morning, and that he’d put a hand on his chest like something was wrong.

  So even though his mom texted that his grandpop was fine, Miles kept worrying.

  It was the one thing, besides bowling, he was good at.

  Thursday morning, when Amy and her uncle were eating oatmeal together at the kitchen table, Uncle Matt ran a hand over his face. When he looked at Amy, she noticed dark semicircles underneath his eyes, like tiny dark half-moons.

  “I’ll be glad when your dad finishes his training and can help me around here,” Uncle Matt said. “I need another set of well-trained hands. With his background, your dad will be a great asset.”

  Amy took her bowl to the sink and rinsed it. She knew her uncle meant that her dad had been a wonderful minister for the Unitarian Universalist church back in Chicago. He had helped a lot of people from the congregation. He was good at it. But when Amy’s mom got sick, he left his position at the church and spent several months taking care of her. Once her mom died, the church had already replaced her dad with another minister. Amy understood the church’s leaders couldn’t wait around forever, but she didn’t like it. If her dad could have gone back to the church, they’d probably still be living in Chicago.

  “I’d better start working,” Uncle Matt said. “Lots to do today.”

  Amy gave her uncle a hug. “Hope you have a good day.”

  “You’re the best.” Uncle Matt took Amy’s hand and squeezed. “I’m glad you’re here, Ames.”

  As she walked to school, Amy thought about what her uncle had said, that he was glad she was there. She hadn’t thought of that. Maybe Uncle Matt needed some family around. Maybe this move wasn’t all about her.

  At lunch, when Amy tried to leave the cafeteria, the same woman stood guard. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Without hesitation, Amy said, “Library aide.”

  “Next time, get a pass or I won’t be able to let you go.” The woman narrowed her eyes at Amy.

  “Absolutely.”

  Amy suppressed an urge to run to the library, because she didn’t want to get in trouble. There might be a Jelly Krimpet waiting for her, she knew. And a potential new friend.

  “Hey there, Amy Silverman from Chicago,” Mr. Schu said when she opened the door to the library.

  “Hi!” Amy said, feeling instantly lighter.

  Across the library, she saw Tate’s blue hair, tucked under her knitted penguin hat. And a new wild combination of clothes. Amy waved like she’d spotted an old friend.

  Tate motioned her back to a table near the fairy-tale collection.

  Amy rushed over and sat at the table with Tate.

  Tate pulled out Jelly Krimpets in plastic wrappers—one for each of them. “Did I tell you my best friend moved away right before school started?”

  Amy shook her head and thought of Kat. She knew what it felt like to lose a best friend because of a move.

  “Yup,” Tate said. “Her mom’s in the military, and they moved overseas, which totally stinks. Perla and I were going to start a fashion blog, and we always did our consignment store shopping together on weekends.”

  “Oh.”

  Tate picked at the plastic wrapper in her hand. “She liked the Butterscotch Krimpets best.”

  Amy didn’t know what to say because she’d never eaten a Butterscotch Krimpet so she nodded.

  “But the jelly ones are the best kind.” Tate looked at Amy. “I’m glad you came back to the library today, Amy Iris Silverman.”

  Amy thought of how alone she felt in the sea of people in the cafeteria. “Me too.” Looking at Tate, Amy realized maybe she wasn’t the only one who needed a friend. “I wish I could come to the library every day at lunch.”

  Tate ripped open the wrapper, shoved an entire Jelly Krimpet in her mouth and spoke around it. “You can.”

  Amy tilted her head.

  “Come with me.” Tate grabbed Amy’s wrist and pulled her to the circulation desk. “Mr. Schu,” Tate said, her mouth still stuffed, “Amy wants to be a library volunteer.”

  Mr. Schu put aside the book he was holding. His face looked very serious. “Well, Amy Silverman from Chicago, what are your qualifications for the exalted position of Buckington Middle School Library Aide?”

  “Well, I, um—”

  “Just kidding,” Mr. Schu said. “I can tell you’re a book lover of the highest order.” He gently touched the top of Amy’s head with the book he’d been holding. “I officially dub you a library aide.” He handed Amy a laminated pass—a key to the kingdom. “Show this to the lunchroom sentry. You’re welcome to come here every day during your lunch period. I’ll be happy to have your help.”

  Amy held the pass to her chest like she would a new book. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you!” Mr. Schu came out from behind the desk, pushing a cart filled with books. “Now that it’s official, here’s a bunch of books to shelve. We can always use an extra set of hands around here, especially hands that understand the power and magic of books.”

  Amy did understand those things. And she lo
ved being around other people who understood them. It was like belonging to a secret society.

  Tate helped Amy pull the cart over to the shelves and showed her how to figure out where the books belonged based on the label on their spine. Once Amy got the hang of it, the two chatted quietly about books, boys, Jelly Krimpets and Tate’s love of weight lifting, while students came into and went out of the library.

  Amy and Tate looked up at the same time when two particular boys walked in.

  One was dressed stylishly, with shiny new sneakers; the other was wearing bowling shoes.

  “Hello there, Miles Spagoski and Randall Fleming.” Mr. Schu gave each of the boys a fist bump as the two of them walked past his desk.

  Amy wondered if Mr. Schu already knew the name of every student in the entire school.

  The boys walked over to where Amy and Tate were shelving books. Miles was carrying a backpack.

  “Randall has something to tell you,” Miles announced to Tate. He nodded at Amy.

  Tate stepped forward, hands on hips. “Then Randall can say it.”

  Randall took a step backward.

  Miles leaned toward Amy and spoke quietly. “By the way, I’m really sorry about spoiling, um, spilling my soda on you yesterday.”