But it’s always hardest at the beginning, as they first come into the room and approach the serving table. And this is when I usually find myself wanting to just stare down at the food.
Fortunately, I’m a pretty good actress. So once the people start coming up to me, I force a smile to my face and I say the things I think they might like to hear. Just shallow things like how cold it is today or how great this meat loaf is or whatever. But, believe me, it’s not easy. The worst moment is when this girl who seems to be about my age walks up. The first thing I notice is this beautiful auburn hair that goes clear down her back in a long braid that’s tied with a ratty-looking piece of yarn. But it’s her expression that gets to me. She keeps her eyes downward and looks totally miserable about being here. And who can blame her? I mean how humiliating would it feel to be so desperate that you have to come to a church for free food? Even so, I try to think of something nice to say.
“I love your hair,” I quickly say. This makes her look up and study me with what seems a bored or maybe unconvinced expression. “Really,” I try again. “The color is so beautiful.”
“Thanks,” she mutters as she looks back down at her tray and moves through the line. But I watch her as she goes to find a seat. And I feel really bad for her. I mean not only is she eating at a soup kitchen, but the outfit she’s wearing is so bad. She must’ve gotten it out of one of those free clothing boxes piled up in the back of the church. But, honestly, her fake-fur-trimmed ski jacket looks like something my grandma might’ve worn for one season then thrown out because it was so ugly. But I conceal these thoughts, keeping my sunny smile pasted across my plastic face. Believe me, I often leave here feeling more drained than after a two-hour performance where I’m starring in the lead role. I know it sounds weird, but it’s the truth.
Finally, the serving is done, including seconds (which didn’t last for long), and I am relieved to go back into the kitchen where I can begin cleaning up. But as soon as I start scrubbing a big pot, I hear some music starting to play, and I realize that it’s really pretty good. It sounds like a live band and so after the pot is clean, I decide to stick my head out for a quick peek.
But I am shocked to see Nate Stein up there in the center of the little makeshift stage. He’s singing and playing lead guitar, along with a few other guys who are playing bass, drums, and keyboard. I stand there in my dirty apron next to the kitchen door, just listening until the song ends, and then I enthusiastically clap along with everyone else. These guys are really good.
That’s when Nate notices me and gives me a surprised little nod before he introduces his band and his next song. I listen a bit longer before I feel guilty about neglecting my work and return to the kitchen.
Just as the last tray of dishes is slid into the big industrial dishwasher, I hear Mavis calling me.
“Someone here to see you, Zoë,” she says with this sly grin.
“Hey, Nate,” I say as I wipe my hands on my apron and push a stray piece of hair from my eyes.
“What’re you doing here, Zoë?”
I hold up my hands. “What’s it look like?”
He laughs. “Who’da thought?”
“Your band sounds great,” I tell him.
“Thanks, I’ve been promising Pastor Leon that we’d come play once we got our drummer replaced.”
“You know Pastor Leon?”
“Sure, this is where I go to church.”
I nod. “Oh.”
“But I haven’t gone here for that long.” Then he kind of frowns. “Do you go here too?”
I give him a sheepish smile. “Oh, not so much. But my parents do.”
“But you work in the soup kitchen?”
“Yeah. I’m told that’s kind of weird.”
“Actually, I think it’s kind of cool.”
We talk for a bit longer, but then his band buddies call for him to come and help them pack up.
“I better go,” he says.
I nod. “Yeah, me too.”
Then I go back and finish wiping down the counters, turn in my apron, and finally leave.
I feel kind of funny when I leave, like I’m wondering what I am really doing there. Not that those people don’t make me feel at home, they totally do. And I really like Mavis. Okay, Pastor Leon too. Maybe I’m just questioning why it is that I’m not interested in going to church. Especially after hearing that Nate goes.
As I get into Mom’s car, I remember that it hasn’t always been like this. There was a time, back when I was about seven, that I actually liked going to church. But it only lasted about a year. Our Sunday school teacher was this sweet little lady named Mrs. Fieldstone. She was a great storyteller, and she always brought homemade treats and told us how much God loved us. She made Bible stories seem real. Come to think of it, it was in her Sunday school class that I invited Jesus into my heart. Or at least that’s how I remember it. But that was nearly ten years ago and I’m not even sure if it was for real. Besides, I have a strong feeling that whatever I did back then has nothing to do with who I am now. In fact, I’m sure that’s the way I want to keep it. I mean my life seems pretty okay to me. It’s not like I’m doing anything that’s really wrong.
I turn toward the mall and tell myself to stop thinking about such weird stuff as I search for a good parking spot. Even Pastor Leon said he wasn’t trying to lay a guilt trip on me.
“Just forget about it,” I tell myself as I lock Mom’s car and hurry over to Banana Republic (where my gift certificate is for). Okay, I’m not that crazy about Banana Republic anymore (that was last year), but how can I expect my grandma to keep up with such things? Besides, as I’m sure she or Mom would tell me, you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Like I know what that’s supposed to mean.
So I’m walking through Banana Republic in search of something totally amazing to wear to the party tonight, and I suddenly remember the girl I’d noticed at the soup kitchen today. I remember the look on her face—total hopelessness—and the pathetic-looking jacket she had on. Even so, I tell myself, at least the jacket’s warm, right? And why am I thinking about this anyway?
But it won’t go away. And as I’m walking through the perfectly arranged shelves and racks at Banana Republic, it’s like I cannot stop obsessing over this poor girl and wondering about how miserable her life must be and how awful it must feel to be in her shoes (which were a nasty pair of old cheap tennis shoes).
And finally, these thoughts just totally spoil this whole shopping experience for me. Feeling upset and ridiculous, I hand the sweater I’ve just picked out back to the smooth-looking salesgirl.
“Do you need a different size?” she asks.
I just shake my head. “I need a different heart.” Naturally, she looks at me like I’m totally crazy. Maybe I am.
So I leave Banana Republic and get into my mom’s car and actually start crying. Now what’s up with this? I mean really, my life’s been going pretty well lately. I’ve got a good role in the school play. I’m dating a totally cool guy. What the crud is wrong with me?
I start the car and tell myself it’s probably just PMS or maybe I need a good long nap. Whatever it is, I’m sure it will go away eventually. And so I go home and take a shower to remove all the soup kitchen crud then fall into my bed and sleep soundly. So soundly that I don’t even wake up until after seven!
Now I’m totally frantic when I realize how late it is. Not only do I have nothing to wear tonight, I haven’t even taken the time to call Emily about this whole Todd and Shawna thing. And now I’ve got to scramble just to come up with something halfway decent from my own closet before Justin gets here. Oh, how I wish Amy still lived at home at moments like this. She always had a closet worth raiding.
I finally manage to put together an outfit that’s not too lame. In fact, as I look at my reflection in the full-length mirror, I’m thinking, Not bad! I’ve never tried wearing these boots with this skirt before, but I must say, it looks pretty hot.
It’s li
ke ten minutes before eight and I think maybe I actually have time to call Emily, especially if Justin is running late. So I quickly dial her number, but her mom tells me that she’s on a date with Todd.
“Tell her I called,” I say in a disappointed voice.
“Is everything okay, Zoë?” her mom asks with her typical concern. Emily’s mom is the sweetest.
“Oh, yeah, everything is great,” I assure her. “I just need to talk to Emily about, uh, about something.” I try to make my voice sound cheerful as I tell her goodbye.
But I really want to ask Mrs. Schuler where Emily and Todd went tonight, and then I want to go there myself, and I want to grab Emily and tell her that Todd’s a total jerk and that she should dump him right now. But it’s too late for that. At least for tonight. Poor Emily!
eight
JUSTIN AND I DON’T TALK MUCH AS HE DRIVES TO THE PARTY. I’M PROBAbly being quiet because I feel sort of guilty for lying to my mom.
“So what are you and Justin up to tonight?” she asked when I came downstairs just a few minutes before he got there.
“We’re going to a party,” I tell her in an innocent-sounding voice. Okay, that wasn’t a lie, but the next part was. “It’s a surprise birthday party for this really good friend of his.” I think I sounded fairly convincing. “I haven’t met the guy yet, but I guess he and Justin have been friends since they were little kids.”
“Oh, that sounds nice.” But then my mom looked concerned. “Shouldn’t you take him something? I have some nice cards in my desk if you want to—”
“That’s okay, Mom,” I said quickly. “Justin got something for him that’s supposed to be from both of us.”
“Oh, good for him. That Justin seems like such a nice boy. So thoughtful.”
But he seems unusually “thoughtful” as he silently drives across town. Suddenly I’m concerned that something might be wrong between the two of us. “Everything okay?” I finally ask in a tentative voice.
“Huh?” He turns to look at me, almost as if he’s forgotten that I’m even here.
“You’re being so quiet,” I tell him. “I just wondered if everything was all right.”
“Sorry. I guess I was just thinking.”
“Are you worried about something?”
“Well, I suppose I’m a little worried about the SAT test next week, and whether or not I’ll be accepted into the college that my dad seems determined I need to attend. Just stupid stuff like that.”
“That’s not stupid, Justin.” I sigh as the reality hits me. “I guess I kind of forget that you’re a senior sometimes. I suppose you have a lot to think about.”
“Yeah.” Then he seems to relax a little. “But I guess I don’t have to think about everything right now.”
“That’s right.” Then I reach over and gently massage the back of his neck. “Relax,” I tell him. “Just give yourself a little break tonight.”
“Sounds good to me.”
The party’s in an older, slightly run-down subdivision, and from the number of cars filling the driveway, as well as lining both sides of the street, I’m guessing there must be a lot of kids here. But as soon as we go inside and push our way through a hot and crowded front room where the music is blaring loudly, I begin to realize that I don’t really recognize anyone.
Not only that, but I don’t think this is just a “high school” party since, judging by conversations, a lot of the people here are in their twenties and older. But even more disturbing is the fact that not only is there alcohol being served (which I expected), but I can also smell marijuana smoke, and my guess is that there may be other things going on here too.
Now I don’t like to come across as this uptight chick who can’t cut loose occasionally, but I’m thinking this just isn’t the kind of party that strikes me as fun. And I wonder what made Justin think it was a good idea to bring me here. Or what made him want to be here himself.
But he is already mixing a couple of drinks from the open bar and he turns around and hands one to me. “Bottoms up,” he says with a grin.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Just a Brown Cow,” he tells me as if I should know what that means.
“What’s that?” I ask, feeling slightly stupid, but not really caring either.
“Rum and Coke.” He holds up his glass. “Cheers!”
Well, I suppose one drink can’t hurt me, and maybe if I bide my time for, say, fifteen or twenty minutes, I might be able to talk him into going someplace else. And so I do my best to drink what actually tastes like nail polish remover (or how I imagine it might taste) but, for his sake, I do pretend to like it. And, of course, this results in him mixing me another one. I’m about to refuse it when he’s greeted by the guy who must be hosting this moronic party.
“Hey, Justin,” this guy says as he slaps him on the back. “I’m glad you came. Whazzup, man?”
Then Justin introduces me to “Nick” and the two of them start talking like they really are the old buddies I’d described to my mom earlier. And then, just when I’m not paying attention, they both disappear. Like poof! they’re gone.
Well, I walk around the crowded and sweltering house and discover that it’s a lot larger than it looked from the outside. But I don’t see Justin anywhere. And naturally, since I don’t really know this Nick guy, I don’t feel comfortable walking into rooms where the doors are closed. I mean who knows what I might discover?
I finally decide to give up when I notice a vacant easy chair in a somewhat quiet corner of the living room. So I sit down, cross my legs, fold my arms, and simply do some people watching. And let me tell you, there’s some strange stuff going on here, and in a weird way it’s kind of interesting. But I do begin to notice a pattern. It’s like guys and girls don’t really know each other, but they visit a little, pair off and dance for a bit, and then they just sort of split. I’m not sure if they’re sick of the party and going somewhere else or what. I’m not even sure that I care. I just want to get out of this place myself.
And I’m pretty curious as to where Justin and Nick have disappeared to and when Justin plans to return. If my parents hadn’t been planning on going to a movie tonight (and if it wasn’t such a sleazy party), I would call my dad and beg him to pick me up. But I realize that’s pretty childish.
So here I sit, just watching everyone. I figure there’s not much else I can do. I sit here for about half an hour or more, I’m guessing, but I’m getting more and more irritated with Justin for abandoning me like this. And then this guy, who looks as if he could be like thirty-something, decides to perch on the arm of my chair like he has a right to. I mean what is wrong with people?
“How’s it going?” As if it’s any of his business.
I kind of shrug in hopes of appearing unfriendly then say, “Okay, I guess.”
“Okay, you guess?” he echoes in a sympathetic tone. “That doesn’t sound very good to me. What could possibly be troubling a pretty girl like you?”
I glance nervously over my shoulder, really wishing that Justin would reappear and get me out of this place. “I seem to have lost my boyfriend somewhere in here.” I think this sounds like a fairly obvious hint, as in, I have a boyfriend, so bug off.
But he just laughs. “Well, maybe that’s not such a problem.” Then he holds out his hand. “I’m Mike, I happen to live here. Now what’s your name?”
I’m at a total loss now, and so I simply tell him my name and hope that he’ll decide I’m pretty boring and just blow. But this guy is stubborn.
“Can I refresh your drink?” he offers.
I notice that I have actually finished off my drink and I don’t know whether to be concerned or proud. But thinking I might be able to lose this loser, I say, “Sure, but I’d really like just a plain Coke this time.”
“No problem.”
And for a few moments I am left in peace again. Well, in as much peace as this place can offer. I consider abandoning my spot before Mike returns, but it has a good
vantage point for when Justin decides to make an appearance. I watch as couples go up and down the steps. And I begin to notice something else that seems kind of weird. It’s like a lot of the girls are wearing these really odd colors of lip gloss. I mean seriously, in the past five minutes I’ve seen purple, blue, orange, yellow, even green. Like what’s up with that?
Then Mike returns with my drink in hand. But now I’m slightly suspicious. “Is this just a Coke?” I ask.
He nods. “Just like the lady ordered.”
Even so, I take a cautious sip. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had spiked it with something stronger. But it actually tastes okay and it’s cold and icy. But as I drink it, Mike remains perched on the arm of my chair like he owns the joint, which I suppose he does. But he’s making small talk about the CD that’s playing right now and how he saw this group in concert like ten years ago (I mean I would’ve been like seven back then!). I try not to encourage him with too many responses, although I do seem to be loosening up a bit. Maybe the alcohol has taken effect. And finally I can’t help but mention the weird fashion statement that seems to be going on in this place.
“What’s up with all the lip gloss?” I ask him. “I’ve never seen so many strange colors.”
He laughs now. “Oh, that’s for the rainbow room.”
“The rainbow room?”
“Yeah,” he tells me as he stands up and takes my hand. “You want to see it?”
“Sure,” I tell him, but I notice that I’m feeling a little unsteady on my feet as I stand and I suddenly wonder if it’s possible to get drunk on just two Brown Cows. But it’s like the room is beginning to spin and I feel funny.
Torch Red: Color Me Torn with Bonus Content Page 6
