If I wanted approval, tonight was the night. Tomorrow was the opening for Little Shop of Horrors, and while I knew that both Gabe and Lashell would be in the audience, I wasn’t going to burden them with RI responsibilities while they were supporting Fletcher’s big night. I would catch Lashell at the soup kitchen at the end of the evening, and then I’d get the go-ahead for my next project. I was confident that Jones’s idea was exactly what I needed to propel me right back into running for the scholarship. I’d have to remember to hug him the next time we crossed paths.
“I guess we’re making some progress, then?” Dad asked after twenty minutes of sharing the couch. He folded the newspaper, setting aside the Desden classifieds. I looked up from the corner of my book, met his brown-eyed stare, and then slowly trailed my gaze back down to the pages of my English assignment. “Good. I’ll take that as a yes.”
It may not have seemed like it, but that one little look was a lot of progress for Dad and me. Up until Bailey pulled her stunt with Gabe, I hadn’t even been able to sit in the same room with him without trying to escape. Looking at him hadn’t been much easier. Now, feeling as though maybe he hadn’t betrayed me nearly as much as my sister had, I felt somewhat okay with letting Dad ease his way back into my good graces. Slowly, sure. But soon enough.
“Mandy,” he said, although I’d stopped looking at him a few minutes ago, “I’m at a loss. I’ve consumed myself trying to figure out what I’ve done to you. I don’t know if it’s something I’ve said or something I’ve done, but you have to know that, whatever it is, I’m sorry.”
I cleared my throat, finally tearing my eyes away from my school book once again.
Okay, here you go.
“You can’t be truly sorry for something if you don’t know what you’re apologizing for,” I said, and Dad sat up straight in his seat.
“Oh my God, you’re talking to me.” He turned to face me, his knees now brushing the side of my leg. “Mandy, tell me. Please. What did I do?”
“I’m not telling you, Dad,” I said, shrugging. “You know what you did, you’re just not thinking hard enough.”
“I promise you that I am. Can I at least have a hint?”
“I’m not going to play your games—”
“Does it have something to do with your mother?” he asked.
“No.”
“California?”
“Sort of?”
“Are you mad we stayed?” he asked. “I thought you were happy being here. I thought your whole life was here in Sugar Creek?”
“It is,” I said. “And I’m very thankful that we’re here.”
“Then . . . what?”
I turned and met his stare, holding his pained gaze. He really didn’t know. He wasn’t just pretending, waiting on me to spill the beans. I could see it in his stare; Dad, honest to goodness, had no idea why I’d shut him out. How could he be so clueless? Had lying become such an impulse for him that he didn’t even realize when he was doing it?
“Mandy, please. Let me fix this. I’ll do anything.”
I closed my eyes.
Yeah, right. Lately, I’d felt so betrayed—not only by Dad, but by Bailey, Gabe, and even Carla. But when I really thought about it, Dad’s lie was the least destructive of the many betrayals. At least no one suffered because he’d twisted the truth.
I couldn’t be sure of it, but whatever Dad’s reason was for lying to me in the first place, I didn’t believe that his motive was malicious or vindictive. He was probably just trying to protect himself or his reputation—somehow. But even after everything we’d been through, after all the lies he’d told and promises he’d broken, I still felt that my father had served his sentence. The torture was over. Eight days was punishment enough.
So now what? I could ask him for a fair exchange—I’ll promise to tell you why I’m mad if you promise to tell me the truth about why we stayed. But I knew it wasn’t worth the wasted breath. Dad would promise what he needed to in order to get what he wanted out of me, and then he could back out before he’d have to share anything of his own. It was best to just be up front and honest without asking for anything in return. Expectations always led to heartache, so I had to stop expecting so much.
“I’m happy that you’re letting us stay here in Sugar Creek, Dad,” I said, looking back to my book. “I’m just not entirely sure why we’re still here, that’s all.”
“What do you mean? I told you why. I saw how happy you were, Mandy, and how much it meant for you to be here. I couldn’t take that away from you.”
“Because of what happened at the park, right?”
“Exactly.”
“Because I heard through the grapevine that that was just one, big, fat lie.”
“What do you—”
“I talked to Gabe last Wednesday at school,” I said. “He told me that you’d already made up your mind to give up the job long before I ever showed up at the park.”
“Oh.”
I waited for something else to follow, other words that might indicate that he’d heard me, or maybe even that he planned to say something more. But the slow moments passed, and I kept waiting. Dad hung his head, his fingers trembling as he lifted them to cover his face. That was it. It finally hit him. He’d been caught in another lie, and it wasn’t until that moment that he realized it. I imagined his face flushed redder with each nervous beat of his heart, or maybe it had drained of color altogether. I simply couldn’t tell. He’d completely buried himself in his palms.
“You can’t be mad at Gabe or blame him for telling me,” I continued. “You’re the one who lied, so there’s only one person you can be mad at.”
Dad didn’t say anything for a minute, he just sat there and let the slow seconds tick by. I never realized before just how loud the second-hand on the clock really was, but it ticked louder and louder the longer we sat in silence.
“So who did you lie to?” I asked. “Me or Gabe? Because, quite frankly, I’m not okay with either answer. I want to know the truth, Dad. Did you turn down the job before you talked to him, like you told him that you did? Or did we really stay in Sugar Creek because of me, because you wanted to see me happy?”
Obviously I already knew the answer. He’d told Gabe first, which meant he’d already made up his mind before ever saying a word to me. I was the one he’d lied to. I just didn’t know why.
Dad still didn’t move.
What was he doing, sitting there like that? Was he trying to think of another lie, or was he only trying to come to terms with the fact that I’d caught him in his first lie?
I sat waiting for his answer for another three minutes, but he wasn’t going to say another word. He was just going to sit there, finally knowing why I was so angry, but never giving me what I’d hoped for in return. Typical Dad. It only proved that he wasn’t really willing to do anything to fix what he’d broken. He wasn’t willing to tell the truth.
He wouldn’t talk to me.
He wouldn’t look at me.
He wouldn’t even give me the tiniest indication that he’d even heard me.
So how in the world did he expect me to forgive him? Why did the burden fall on me?
It was weird. My sympathetic self wanted to comfort him, but there was another side of me—a less forgiving side—that didn’t feel sorry for him in the least. It was a strange combination between frustration and sorrow. Dad had a way of bringing that out in me.
I was feeling about the same toward my sister. Since Bailey had chosen to hide her new and budding friendship with Gabe, I hadn’t bothered looking her way a single time. I’d stuck by my promise and refused to even look at her, let alone talk to her. I’d even taken up the offer Georgia extended to chauffeur me to and from school. The less I had to be around my sister the better.
I left Dad to sit alone on the couch and wallow.
I dropped my school books on my bed, slipped out of my school shirt, and shimmied into my fresh, crisp RI volunteer tee. I tucked my notebook, alon
g with all of my plans for my big event pitch into my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and headed for the door. And then I was off for another evening of working in the soup kitchen.
“Hey, Mandy,” Carla said, waving as I came through the back door. The screen snapped shut behind me, and both Lashell and Fletcher turned to nod in acknowledgment. “How’s it going?”
Why was she being so nice? I mumbled hello as I walked through the kitchen to deposit my bag, purse, and jacket on the coat rack in the corner. I didn’t know what else to say. I wasn’t going to act like we were best friends, not after what happened at the diner. Not even a week ago, she’d taken such a hostile, mean tone with me, and the last two times I’d run into her, she seemed to act as though nothing had ever changed.
I was convinced Carla might have an evil twin of her own.
“How are you?” I said, finally addressing her directly, but not giving her much ammunition.
“Only two and a half weeks to go to the end, can you believe it?” she asked, slipping a hair net over her head. She turned to pull two food prep gloves from a dispenser and slipped each of her hands into one.
“Crazy, isn’t it?” Lashell chimed in. “It seems just like yesterday we were sitting in the auditorium going over all of that orientation stuff.”
“Times flies.”
“It sure does,” I said, agreeing with Fletcher. How could so much time have already passed, and yet I felt like I’d accomplished so very little?
I took a deep breath. There was no reason to get down on myself. There was still plenty of time and lots of hope! I had a notebook full of promises in my bag. Relaunching the Children’s Reading Night at the library would be exactly what I needed to gain back all of my confidence. I just knew it! I’d steal my moment with Lashell as soon as I could get her alone. Once I pitched the idea, then I’d finally be able to rest easily again.
We spent three hours out on the line, serving meals to the less fortunate families of our small town. Carla and Fletcher rotated on and off all night between the kitchen and the serving line, but I maintained my position in the dining room from start to finish. I just preferred to be out there among the other faces, watching the grateful smiles, and hearing the whispers of thanks. Whether or not I really wanted to give her the credit she deserved, Carla had started something great here. As long as the resources never died down, and the volunteer help was readily available, I could totally see her soup kitchen having the potential to run on and on indefinitely. There was a lot of promise in this one little church.
“Hey!”
I smiled as soon as I heard the voice at the end of the night. I knew, as cute and high-pitched as it was, it could only belong to—
“Remember me?” the little girl said. “I’m Amanda, we met at the school last week!”
“Of course I remember you,” I said, pulling off my gloves. We’d already served our last trays for the night, and most of the volunteers were already in the back breaking down the kitchen. “How are you?”
“I’m great,” she said, looking down to her new coat. She wanted me to notice it, to say something. And just as I was about to, she asked, “How do I look?”
“Fantastic,” I said, bopping my index finger on her nose. “How’s it working out for you?”
“It’s perfect,” she said. “My friends at school love it! I think they’re a little jealous”
“I bet they are,” I winked, and then she lifted her hand for a high-five.
“My mommy said I was allowed to come over and say hi, but I’ve gotta go now. I just wanted to say thanks again.”
“Anytime. It was good to see you.”
“You too. Bye Mandy!”
She waved as she caught up with her mother out front. They were the last of the public to leave, so I secured and locked the doors behind them.
I cleaned up my station, wiping down the counters and collecting trays, and then I carried everything back to the kitchen. The room thinned out fairly quickly, and I noticed almost immediately that there was only one adult in the room. It wasn’t one that I recognized.
“Hey, where’s Lashell?” I asked, and both Carla and Fletcher turned from the sink.
“Oh, she left about five minutes ago,” Carla answered.
“She’s been on her feet all day,” Fletcher added. “I told her to go home. We’ve got it covered.”
“And Uncle Rick is here,” Carla said, nodding over to the burly man over by the door. “We’re supervised.”
I nodded a quick hello to the man, and then I turned back and dropped my head.
Crap. I was really hoping to steal a moment with Lashell before we all parted ways tonight. It was imperative that I got her approval on Jones’s idea for the library night, but I couldn’t make any definite plans or concrete decisions until I had a firm yes.
It would have to wait until I saw her again at the Saturday morning soup kitchen, and that meant I was seriously cutting myself short with time. Saturday would mark exactly two weeks until the end of the program, and that didn’t give me much time to get a lot done. Still, what choice did I have? I could always call! But no. This needed to be done face to face. She needed to see the passion, to see the fliers. She needed to sense how much it meant to me to organize this event and pull it off. Presentation was key, and that wasn’t something I could pull off over the phone.
“That’s a night, ladies and gents,” Carla said ten minutes later, and we did one last visual sweep of the kitchen and the dining hall to make sure we hadn’t missed anything. Carla’s uncle began to kill the lights.
Fletcher took his coat from the rack, slipped into it, and then turned back to retrieve mine, helping me put it on. I snatched my bag and purse from the rack, and then we started for the door together.
Even though it was really nice to serve another night on the line, even to get to see little Amanda again, I hated that I didn’t get to do the one thing I’d shown up to do—convince Lashell that I had the next big idea.
But it was okay. It had to be okay. I’d catch up with her eventually. And once my plan was in motion, then I’d finally win this thing once and for all.
Chapter Eight
It was one of the longest days of my life.
I started the morning with Georgia in the newsroom, focusing all of my time and attention on the layout of the Herald’s next issue. As a writer, it wasn’t typically my job to worry about the layout issues, but the paper had been seriously understaffed in recent weeks. Most of the newsroom workers were either involved with the cast or crew of the fall production, and seeing as the show opened in only a matter of hours, their busy schedules cut right into valuable newspaper time.
Morning classes were a bore, and I managed to keep a low profile at lunch. Most of Georgia’s friends had gotten used to my quiet nature, so nothing seemed out of the ordinary when I didn’t have anything particularly interesting to contribute to the conversation. Even Georgia hadn’t noticed that I was feeling a little off-kilter. After another string of long classes, the day ended like any other—a final bell, a rush to the parking lot, and a quick ride home. I said goodbye to Georgia as she dropped me off outside the house, and I thought that would be the last I heard from her until Monday.
But then my phone rang three hours later, and I got a sinking feeling that something was wrong.
“Hey, Georgia, what’s up?”
“Mandy?” she said, her voice winded.
“What’s going on?” I set my homework aside and readjusted the phone against my ear. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” she said. “Everything’s not okay.”
“Okay, talk to me, what’s wrong?”
“I busted my butt this week to make sure Grandma’s surprise party went off without a hitch, but my idiot dad forgot to pick up the cake! We’re already in Desden, and the party starts in a half-hour.”
“Okay, no big deal. I’m right down the road from the bakery.” I checked the clock above the sink. “I can get there with
the cake in a half-hour, drop it off, and then you guys can party down. Is that okay?”
“Are you serious?” she asked. “I was only calling to let you know that we weren’t picking it up. You’d really bring it all the way out here?”
“Of course I would,” I said. “What are friends for?”
“Not this. Not for going completely out of their way for a birthday cake.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” After the amazing friendship she’d given me, I owed Georgia the world. “I won’t be able to stick around, though. I’ll swing by, drop it off, and leave you to it. I have Fletcher’s show tonight, so I have to make sure I’m back at the school before seven.”
“Mandy, oh my gosh,” she said, struggling to catch her breath, “thank you.”
She gave me the address, and I scrawled the details onto the palm of my hand. We ended the call, and I snatched my purse from the kitchen counter. Just in case I didn’t get back to Sugar Creek in time to swing home before the show, I collected my book bag, too. If there was even a small opportunity that I could catch Lashell before or after Fletcher’s show, I needed to try. It was a desperate attempt, and probably the last possible place I should do it, but I was itching for approval.
“Tell Bailey I’m taking the car,” I called back to Dad. As far as I knew, he was holed up in his bedroom. My sister, I knew for certain, was locked in hers—I just wasn’t talking to her yet. “I have to drive out to Desden to deliver a cake for the bakery, and then I have the show at the school. I’ll be home late.”
He never said anything, just grunted. I heard that much.
I stopped by work to pick up the cake. I barely made it through the front door before Jones started spouting off a dozen reasons why I needed to get over myself and cut my sister some slack. Just talk to her and you’ll understand!
Breaking Walls Page 7
