by Anne Dayton
My eyes well up a little. Michael is so nice. And he’s so young and, well, different. How is he going to be okay out in the world on his own?
Judy takes my hand and looks into my eyes. “Look, I’m not dumb. I know you and Riley sort of . . .” She waves her hand in the air, at a loss for words. “I know you two don’t see eye to eye. I just want you to try to be there for her until her aunt gets here. Whether or not she knows it, she needs a friend right now, and it’s better if it’s someone her own age.”
Riley hates me. If I even try to give that girl a hug, she’ll probably slug me in the jaw. “It’s just that—”
“Ana, remember Fritz’s sermon last week?”
I bite my lip, trying to remember. Was it the one about always being a Christian, even at school? Or the one about keeping your thoughts pure? Oh! I remember. “Yeah.”
Judy leans back in her chair. “Good. Then this is just what he was talking about. Now is your chance to step up into a leadership role and make this youth group your own.”
I look through the window at the eighties-era kitchen with tan appliances and spot my now-cold cookies. “I’ll try to help her. I didn’t mean I wouldn’t.” My goodness, the girl’s brother is missing. If Judy thinks I should try to talk to her, I will. “I just don’t know if she’ll accept help from me. I don’t know if she’ll listen to anything I have to say.”
Judy stands up and juts out her chin. “Make her listen. I’m depending on you.”
33
Riley hasn’t come out of her room since Judy left, and I figure she’s sleeping, but after an hour or so I decide to venture into the bedroom to check on her. There she is, wide awake and curled up around her phone. I hesitate for a moment. Should I have brought her a cookie? Should I say I’m sorry? Should I give her a hug?
“I’m fine, Ana,” she says and turns over gruffly.
Her voice is low and raspy and tired. I close the door quickly, then walk back out into the living room and start praying for Michael, then Riley, then Mrs. McGee, and finally even Mr. McGee, whom I don’t even know, so I have to keep it general with him. I also pray for myself. I pray for strength, wisdom, and boldness. Judy asked something very important—and very difficult—of me, and I am not going to disappoint her. I will be there for Riley. If she hurls insults at me, I will turn the other cheek. If she pushes me away, I will steel myself and try again.
But a little while later, Riley and I are sitting silently in the living room of the lodge, staring at the fire, waiting for her Auntie Kathy to appear and take her back to Half Moon Bay. The boisterous group of skiers and boarders is due back soon, but Riley is glued to her phone. She even took it to the bathroom with her a little while ago. It hasn’t rung. I see it in her hand and will it to ring with good news about Michael. But it, like us, stays silent.
We sit like this for at least half an hour, until I finally notice that the fire is about to die out. Mom thinks fires are dangerous, give people asthma, and are messy, so I have exactly zero experience with them, but I still feel compelled to do something about the problem. I go over to it, pick up a small metal shovel from the little carousel of tools, and hit it with the shovel.
“What are you trying to do?” Riley asks.
I turn around and smile. These are the first words I’ve heard her speak since she emerged from the bedroom. That must be a good sign, right? They weren’t “Go away, Ana.”
“Well, the fire’s getting low and I was sort of liking it, so I thought I’d try to fix it. But I don’t really know what I’m doing.”
“I’ll say.” Riley stands up, takes the shovel out of my hand, puts it back on the rack, grabs the pointy stick thingy, and pokes the wood a little. “We need more wood. Hand me some of those pieces.”
I scurry across the room and grab two logs. I hand them to her, and she tosses them into fire like it’s nothing.
“Usually, when my family goes camping, Michael insists on stoking the fire.” She looks up at me. “Two more logs.”
I get them from the stack. “That’s what they call it. Stoking.” I hand her two more logs.
“He really likes to do it. And he’s amazing at it. He really gets how the air is supposed to flow for maximum burn.”
I nod, pretending I get what she’s saying. “How did, uh, Michael learn that?” I want to keep her going. Talking about him is probably really important right now.
Riley shrugs and dusts herself off. “My dad taught us. He was an Eagle Scout. Michael’s going to be one too.” She walks back over to the couch and I follow her. She sits down and puts her face in her hands. “Well, I think he . . .”
Her voice falters, and she looks at me with tears in her eyes. And then, as if it’s the most normal, natural thing in the world, I scoop her into a big hug, the kind of hug I’ve only ever been given by Maria, the one that says, Go ahead, cry now, it will all be fine tomorrow. The moment my arms enfold her, it’s like the crack in the dam gives, and suddenly she is sobbing incoherently into my shoulder. I don’t say anything. I just keep holding her tight, crying quietly myself. After a few minutes, she pulls back and looks at me sheepishly.
I jog into the kitchen and grab the huge box of tissues, then hold it out to her. “Here,” I say, and take one for myself. I blot my eyes and blow my nose. She cleans herself up. And slowly, imperceptibly, I can feel the old awkwardness between us trying to creep back into the room.
“He’s fine, Riley. I know it.” I feel my shoulders stiffen as I wait for her to yell at me about how I don’t “know” anything.
Instead, she looks up slowly with hope in her eyes. “You really think so?”
I relax a little. “He’s the smartest person I’ve ever met.” She nods a little and blows her nose again. “And, I don’t know, I just have a feeling about this one.” I put a hand on her shoulder. I mean what I say. For as long as I can remember, I have been able to just know certain things.
“I feel that way, too,” she says, looking at me. “I mean, sometimes I just get a sixth sense about stuff. I don’t know what happened to him, but I can feel in my heart that he’s all right.”
I’ve never talked about this feeling with Christine or Zoe. I guess I always thought it sounded too, I don’t know, God Girl or something. “I know what you mean. Maybe it’s woman’s intuition or something.” I know it isn’t, but I don’t want Riley to think I’m a total freak.
She shakes her head and fidgets with the tissue in her hand. “No, it’s more than that for me. I get this very real feeling . . .” She glances nervously at me. “Well, never mind.”
Maybe Zoe was right. Maybe Riley McGee is a Miracle Girl, as unlikely as it seems, given her slightly evil nature and naturally blond hair. I mean, God wouldn’t have saved her from death if she weren’t called to do something with her life, right?
Riley’s eyes light up. “I think that—“
We’re interrupted by a blond woman rapping on the door and bursting into the lodge. She has tears in her eyes, and she rushes to Riley and grabs her into a tight hug.
In the space of five minutes, Auntie Kathy puts all of Riley’s bags in the trunk of her car, writes a note to Fritz, and hustles Riley out the door with a quick good-bye to me. I stand outside in the freezing cold in just my jeans and fuzzy slippers and wave as they drive away. And for the first time in my life, I’m actually kind of sad to see Riley McGee go.
34
By the time the weary troops walk back through the door that night, I feel like I might kiss the first person I see, who happens to be Troy, the tenth grader with the really bad zits, so luckily it’s just a feeling and not something I actually act on. I’d hate for my first kiss to happen because I’m lonely and stir-crazy in an empty lodge. That’s hardly the kind of romantic story you want to tell your grandkids someday.
I try to act calm, peering over people’s heads, looking for Dave and Tyler, as I greet the people who come in the door. Maybe I need to give skiing another shot. I had nothing to do after R
iley left. I can hang out in this lodge tomorrow and pretend that I don’t want to ski, but truthfully, I’m way too hyper to sit still all day. Finally, I see Tyler and Dave walking up and I have to resist the urge to run up and give them both a big hug. I see another person with them and realize that it’s Jamie. The sight of my three closest friends on this trip makes my heart light and free.
“Hey, guys.” I swing open the door for them. “Welcome back!”
Dave musses my hair. “Dominguez.” His voice oozes exhaustion.
“Pinnacle day on the mountain?” I wiggle my eyebrows at him. “Just a little peak pun for you.”
Dave chuckles weakly as he hangs up his coat. “So, Jamie, we’re on for tonight?”
“Definitely.” Jamie smiles at Dave, and I recognize it right away. It’s the love smile. In an instant, I know that Jamie has a crush on Dave. Poor girl. Just wait until she finds out that he has a crush on me.
“Hey, Jamie.” I might as well show her right now how nice I am, so that when she figures this all out, she won’t totally hate me.
“Oh, hey, Ana.” Jamie hangs up her coat. “Listen, you should really think about taking some lessons. I only took a half day and now I’m able to ski.” She throws a glance at Dave. “Well, kind of.”
Dave leans over her shoulder to me. “She’s amazing. I picked her up at lunch and she kept up with me on the greens all day long.” He tugs on one of her long braids. “Just a half-day in the Dave Brecht Finishing School and she’s skiing like Picabo Street.” I try to smile.
“Hey, Ana,” Tyler says over his shoulder as he heads off to the men’s wing. “Missed you this afternoon.”
“Uh, thanks,” I say to him as he disappears. I’m still trying to process what just happened with Dave. He skied with Jamie all afternoon? I turn back to the coat rack, where Dave and Jamie are comparing their biceps, both swearing they could beat the other in arm wrestling. I stomp away from them and plop onto the couch, expecting Dave to notice that something is wrong. But this plan fails miserably. Instead Dave and Jamie hang out in the lodge’s living room, laughing and joking around until I have to leave before I vomit all over them.
When I get back to my room, I throw myself down on my bed in the lonely, empty space and try to think. My mind is racing. He’s just Dave. He’s not blond and surfer-cool like Tyler, and he doesn’t dress as well as Tyler does, either. He’s average height, and he’s not fat or slim. His brown hair is straight and cute, but sometimes he goes too long between haircuts and it looks a little wild. His brown eyes are warm, but they’re not the kind of thing you notice right away. For goodness’ sake, he wears a tie every day. The one he’s been wearing this whole trip has a polar bear on it. And yet, there’s just something about him. He’s really caring, and true, and funny.
I hear Jamie’s high giggle and put a pillow over my ears. This is not the way it’s supposed to go. Jamie’s older than him! Why can’t she prey on guys her own age? And I’m, well, I’m Dominguez. She’s just some girl he started hanging out with on the ski trip. They’ve never even talked before, to my knowledge. He’s always hanging around me.
Slowly, it begins to dawn on me. This is exactly what I deserve for being such a quitter. I sit up on the edge of my bed. Well, I’m not going to be quitter anymore.
***
After dinner, I put my plan into action. Phase one involves getting a seat right next to Dave during worship. In order to accomplish this, I have to hang around the living room, in the very spot where we had worship last night, so that the moment Fritz announces it’s time, I’ll be poised and ready to pounce.
Unfortunately, tonight everyone is playing Spoons. This means that I must somehow look like I’m engrossed in doing something by myself, which really stinks because I actually love Spoons.
“Ana, are you sure you don’t want us to deal you in?” Tyler calls.
“No, thanks,” I yell back. I hold up a magazine that one of the girls loaned me, which is splashed with tween stars. “I’m reading.”
Tyler gives me a funny look, shrugs, and gets back to the game. It doesn’t escape my attention that Dave and Jamie are both playing, but whatever. Worship time will start in about fifteen minutes, so I can wait. Plus, if you really want to compare apples to apples, worship time is very long. It can go on for an hour straight, and then Fritz speaks, so getting to sit next to Dave for such an extended time will totally be worth it.
I catch up on who Justin Bieber is dating, what kind of cereal Taylor Swift likes, and who exactly Raven-Symoné admires the most in the world. Ugh. How can girls read this stuff? Hello? There are these things called books? And they’re waayyyy more interesting than the fact that this person or that likes Super Sugar Cinnamon Os for breakfast.
“Okay, let’s bring it in for worship,” Fritz calls from the kitchen, where he’s inspecting the work of tonight’s kitchen clean-up crew.
I don’t move an inch and pretend to keep reading. I am already sitting in the very spot next to the fireplace that should put me on Dave’s right-hand side. Dave and Tyler sit on the wide stone lip around the fireplace to play their guitars, and we form a circle around them. This means that Tyler will be on his left and I will be on his right. Perfect.
Slowly, the other people begin to file into the room and sit down wherever they plop. Tyler comes in first and nearly gives me a heart attack when he sits near me, but after talking to me for a minute about this “amazing run” he took today, he slides over to his usual spot. Fritz comes in and joins the circle, and Jamie sits down next to me. Ha ha! Vengeance is mine, older woman! And finally, as if he knows he’s torturing me here, Dave comes over looking beautiful. He smells wonderful, like soap. His hair is just a bit wet at the edges and when he smiles I can see a faint dimple on his left cheek. How did I not notice that he bears a striking resemblance to Adam Brody? How did I miss that I’m falling head over heels for him? For a smart person, I’m pretty stupid sometimes.
Dave sits down, takes out his guitar, and jokes quietly with Tyler for a moment. I notice a few girls settling in nearby, watching Dave. Well. Isn’t he Mr. Popularity these days? Lucky for me, I got here first. I settle in to enjoy my evening. I deserve it. I worked hard for this spot.
“Oh,” Dave says, turning to me. “I almost forgot.”
“Yeah?” I give him my hundred-kilowatt smile.
“Can you do me a huge favor, Dominguez?” He gives me a wink. Is it just me, or is he a lot more confident than he was a few weeks ago?
“Sure.” I twirl my hair around my finger. Two can play at this game, sir.
“Can you switch seats with Jamie? I need her to sit next to me tonight.”
My jaw falls open in shock. “What?!” I know I sound a little indignant, but it’s rude to ask me to move.
“It’s a surprise.” Dave strums a chord on his guitar and then turns one of the keys. “I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you.”
I look at Jamie, and she looks at the floor and blushes. The little Bathsheba! I’m not moving. But as I glance around the circle I realize that the whole group, including Fritz, is staring at me, waiting for me to move. I force a smile. “Oh, sure. Whatever.” I try to act very breezy and casual about the whole thing, but I know I don’t quite accomplish my goal.
When Dave strums out the first chord and kicks off worship time, I’m glad, because then people will stop thinking about me and start thinking about God. I try to sing and focus on heavenly things, but I simply can’t. My heart is pounding in my chest, and my hands are covered in a cold sweat.
On the third song of the evening, Dave nods at Jamie, and she begins to harmonize with him. I pray that the world opens up a big chasm and swallows me up so that I never have to see any of these people again. Jamie looks so petite and pretty as she harmonizes with Dave that I know I have no chance with him. He’s already over me. I failed, and he moved on. He found someone better, someone who doesn’t suck at skiing and can sing like an angel and appreciates his attention.<
br />
As their big duet comes to an end, everyone claps and cheers except me. I just sit there, hoping to die.
35
I check in the back of my book for the answer to the problem. 284. Wait, what? How on earth can it be 284? I have been solving this little bugger—which doesn’t even look like math, it’s all parentheses and the word “log” and the letter X again and again—for a half an hour, carefully following every single step laid out in my Algebra 2 textbook on how to do this kind of problem, and I got 248. I wish someone had warned me that math gets really, really hard when it starts looking like your English homework. I think I actually miss numbers. At least they were straightforward. Maybe this is one of those typos you occasionally find in books. 284, 248. That’s close, right?
Riley’s smiling face flashes in front of my eyes, and I crumple up the piece of paper I’ve been working on. I pull out a fresh sheet and start to solve the problem again. I’m halfway through it when I realize it’s time for another Diet Coke. I get a new glass of ice and another can from the pantry.
It’s already midnight, but I don’t care. Tomorrow is a huge test in Algebra 2 and I’m really struggling on this chapter. Only old Mackey is mean enough to schedule a test for the Tuesday after a long weekend. I’m going to stay up until I get it down cold. That’s the only way to beat Riley, even though, let’s be honest, she’s got a huge head start on me, since her dad is Smarty McMath Pants for some dot-com company, so she’s been endowed with a super-genius math brain.
I sit down and rearrange my book and paper and glass of soda just so. Okay, here I go.
When we got back from the ski trip on Sunday, Riley IMed me with the news that her brother was found shortly after she left Sky Mountain. Apparently Michael loves roads, train schedules, flight patterns, and bus routes. It’s something about the repetitive numbers. He had been thinking about his grandmother Friday night, so when he got up in the morning, he took a Greyhound bus to see her, and it didn’t occur to him to tell anyone. He got off the bus in Reno and called his grandmother from a pay phone. She immediately called everyone to let them know that he was all right and drove him back to Half Moon Bay, though he couldn’t understand why everyone was so upset. I was relieved to hear that he was fine, and I was kind of surprised to get an IM from Riley. I want to believe that things will be different between us now, but I’ve thought that before and nothing has ever come of it in the past, so I’m trying not to get my hopes up.
