Only then would she finally explode. But I didn’t want to wait for that. I loved her too much to watch her world implode.
What happened? Why was she so upset?
I ran a list of scenarios all day, but nothing seemed to line up. Unplanned pregnancy? Sure, I could see that happening. The way she and Jones were all over each other in public, I didn’t want to imagine what happened behind closed doors. But the more I thought about it, the less likely it seemed. If that were the case, and Bailey was pregnant, Jones would be among the many people she was lashing out at. He’d probably get the brunt of it. It was likely, but not the most likely possibility, so I only thought harder. What could it be? Was it possible that she’d only woken up on the wrong side of the bed?
“You know you can talk to me,” I said, and this time she turned around, her red and puffy eyes meeting mine.
“Mandy,” a tear slipped down her face, “you’re not going to like what I have to say.”
“It doesn’t matter whether or not I like it,” I said. “You’re my sister. So tell me. Talk to me. Whatever it is, I’m here for you. What’s going on?”
She sniffled once and took a long breath, this time opening her mouth, ready to spill her guts. “For the past few—”
And then her phone rang and interrupted her, halting her in the middle of what I knew was going to be an explanation of her outlandish behavior. The phone lit up on the desk, where it was plugged in, and she turned back, glanced down to the screen, and ripped the cord out of the wall. With one angry throw, she thrust the phone across the room, and it crashed against the far wall, cracking the screen before smashing to the floor.
I watched the silent phone lay there on the carpet for a moment, quiet and broken, and then I looked back to my sister.
“I’m guessing you didn’t want to take that call?”
“Get out,” she said, angry again. “Leave!”
“Bailey—”
“Leave!” she screamed, turning to grab her lamp. And I already knew what was coming next; she was going to yank that cord out of the wall and throw it, and I did not want to be on the receiving end of it. So I fled the room, shutting the door quickly behind me. And then there was a loud crash against the door. The lamp, I had absolutely no doubt, was shattered to pieces.
“I’ll be in my room if you change your mind,” I said quietly but at least loud enough so that she could hear me.
I turned down the hallway and into my own room, in time to hear Dad bust through my sister’s door and yell at her for throwing and breaking things.
She fired right back at him, matching his angry tone. She was more determined to get rid of him than she was me because there was another crash. Another bang. Another loud scream.
The arguing continued that way for ten minutes. I couldn’t make out all the words, just that they were yelling. And I imagined, by the time Dad gave up and left her room, there wasn’t much left in there that she hadn’t destroyed.
“All right, let’s get something straight right now,” Dad said, turning into my room. I looked up from my desk, setting my article aside. “You and your sister do not make the decisions around here. I do.”
“Yes, I’m aware.”
“And you will not walk around making rules for yourself and ignoring my authority.”
“Okay?” I pushed my chair away from the desk and turned to face my father. “Dad, what happened in there? What did she say?”
“You two are getting far too comfortable with these bad attitudes,” he said. “Allow me to remind you that I am your father. You don’t get to talk to me like I’m another one of your friends.”
“Whoa, wait. Hold on. I’m not the one you’re mad at,” I said, finally standing up. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You do need my permission to leave this house, in case you’ve forgotten. You require my permission, Amanda.”
“Oh, again with the name-calling!”
“You’re not going on that date,” he said.
“What?” My heart caved in on itself. “Wait, no. No, Dad. Why? I thought we were joking around in there. I wasn’t being serious. I know I need your permission, and you gave it to me. You said I could go. I have to go!” Dad didn’t fire back; he just stood there, his face as red as Bailey’s was when I ignored her order to stay out of her room. “What am I supposed to tell Gabe?”
“I don’t care. Call him, text him, send a carrier pigeon. I don’t care, but make sure he gets the message. You do not get to leave this house on Saturday.”
“But—”
“You heard me.”
“But what did I do?”
“My house, my rules.”
“No,” I said. “No! Twenty minutes ago you said I could go. You said that!”
“And now I’m saying you can’t,” he said. “You and your sister need to understand one thing—I’m in charge. Me. Not you, not Bailey, not anyone else. I make the decisions. She’s grounded, and you’re walking a pretty thin line yourself.”
“For what?” I yelled. “I—didn’t—do—anything!”
But it didn’t matter. I could’ve yelled for the rest of the evening, and it wouldn’t have mattered because he left, and I had no one to yell at.
Somehow I’d taken the blame for whatever it was that Bailey had said or done to him. So Bailey’s problem had become my problem, and I was determined to find out exactly what that problem was. And based on the way Bailey freaked out at the sight of a simple phone call and Dad’s sudden shift in mood after talking to my sister, I had a pretty good idea exactly what was going on in the Parker household.
And there was a good chance it had everything to do with the one person none of us ever wanted to see or speak to again—Mom.
Chapter Two
I could’ve dwelled on it for the rest of the evening, but there was no point hanging around and fighting a worthless fight. And there was certainly no use in sulking. Dad wouldn’t look at me. He wouldn’t talk to me. And I wasn’t even going to attempt another shot at Bailey.
So I left. Thankfully, I had prior commitments, anyway—promises I’d made long before every person in our house flew off the handle. I gathered up the necessities, filled my shoulder bag, and headed out the door.
Ten minutes later, I was immersed into a world free of family drama. The Sugar Creek soup kitchen was kicking off for the evening, and I was there to cover some Raddick Initiative news for the school paper. And since I’d tried so hard to escape my family, I’d shown up to the church a little too early, leaving me to sit alone on the front steps. Thankfully, though, Fletcher showed up a little early, too, so I had some great company to keep until it was time to go inside.
“Have you heard the band yet?” Fletcher asked, opening the folder I’d given him yesterday. It was full of specifics, broken down into even finer details, about the dance finale for our district’s RI team.
He pointed to the name in the binder. “Is that what they’re called? Extra Bacon?”
“Yup, that’s their name,” I said, snickering at the goofy name that Jones had come up with for their band.
Jones liked to the tell the story that the band name came to him in a vision, a sort of futuristic dream where he saw the four of them on stage, and Extra Bacon scrolling on marquees all across the country. That was the line, anyway, the story he liked to tell everyone. But I was the only person who knew the truth, and he’d made me promise a long time ago that I’d never tell: the only reason he pitched the idea for Extra Bacon was because he liked the way it sounded as he ordered breakfast at Maurine’s one morning.
“Yes, I’ve heard them. They’re using our garage as practice space. They’re going to put on one heckuva a show; wait till you see it.”
“I look forward to it,” he said, taking a swig from his water bottle. And then there was this brief moment of silence, this second where I knew he was leading into something bigger with all this RI small talk. That moment was followed by a grin, and I leaned forward at the sigh
t of his smile.
“Okay, what?” I asked, trying not to smile myself. Fletcher had one of those contagious attitudes; it was hard not to mirror every subtle expression. He was an all-around happy person, especially right then, and I was eager to know what was on his mind.
“I’m glad you’re here early this evening.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he talked, nervous about whatever it was he was going to say next. “I actually showed up a little sooner than I normally would, hoping I might catch you before I got trapped in the kitchen. I didn’t want to miss you.”
“Yeah, why’s that?” I asked. “You’re not backing out on me, are you? Fletch, I told you. Bailey will help cover all the bases for the dance finale. You can count on her.”
Or at least I hoped he could. I was counting on her to hold up all the promises I’d made to him.
“No, it’s not about that,” he said, looking down to the folder. “You actually seem to have covered everything anyway. It’s something else entirely.”
“Okay?”
He took a deep breath and let it go.
“I’m going with my parents on Sunday for an informal tour of DU,” he said, and though he tried to maintain a blank expression, that smile of his kept beaming through.
That’s one of the many things I adored about Fletcher; he couldn’t even think about college without busting into a smile—and not any college, but Desden University. I swore there must’ve been something magical about that place, the way it captivated so many people. I, like Fletcher, had my sights set there, and only there, because of that magical feeling. Because I knew it’s where I belonged.
I’d known since the moment I’d first picked up one of their brochures at a college fair. Holding that piece of paper in my hand, staring down at the pictures of the buildings on campus … I felt it. It wasn’t the fact that it was only minutes away from the place I called home. It wasn’t the beautiful scenery or even the highly celebrated sports teams. It was more than that. It was this indescribable feeling. And actually showing up there, walking the campus for that first time with Gabe, it only solidified those perfect feelings I’d had.
“Neither of my parents went to college,” he said, interrupting my DU daydream. “And they’re not very supportive of my decision to go.”
“On the tour?”
“To college. Period.”
“Why?”
“They’re skeptical. They’re so uninformed about the whole process, and I get it. It’s hard to get excited about something you don’t understand,” he said. “Dad dropped out of high school his junior year to work with his dad, and then he spent his twenties building his own auto body shop from the ground up, no college courses necessary. He’s a firm believer in hard work, nothing else.”
“Oh.”
“And Mom dedicated her life to raising a family.”
“And that’s perfectly fine. That worked for them,” I said. “But you’re not them.”
“Obviously.”
“They should want this for you, Fletch, if it’s truly what you want.”
“I want you to come with us,” he said quickly. “To tour the campus. I know you’ve been there; you know the lay of the land. I’ve been there three or four times on my own. But I think having someone there who believes in this process, someone who’s even planning to be there at the same time I’ll be there … I think it will make them much more comfortable with everything.”
Why me? He had all of his acting buddies, all of his friends from the drama club. He had a close-knit group of friends he sat with at lunch every day, worked with at his part-time job, and even hung out with inside the RI group. I didn’t understand why he’d ask me of all people.
“Because you’re the only person who understands it,” he said, reading the question play across my face. “No one else wants this as badly as I do. You’re in. You’re going to Desden. And if I have my way, I’ll be one year behind you. Mandy, please?” he asked. “I know you don’t owe it to me. You’ve already given me so much, with everything you’ve done for the RI program. But if you would—”
“Oh, my God, Fletch, I’m not going to make you beg,” I said, laughing. “I’d love to go with you. If you think it will help you help them, then yes. Count me in.”
There was this tiny flicker of relief in his eyes, and his shoulders relaxed. He knew he could count on me, and that’s all he was hoping for.
“Thank you.”
“They’re going to have to understand,” I said, putting my arm around his shoulder. “Your life is taking you out of Sugar Creek. You’re a star, and you belong at DU. And after DU, probably somewhere in Chicago or on Broadway. You’re gonna go places, Fletch. And when you win the RI scholarship and finally get to Desden University, you’re going to be right where you belong. And I hope we can help your parents see that.”
“Yeah,” he said, smiling again. “You know, I don’t think it’s been said enough, but you’re a great friend, Amanda Parker.”
And then I smiled, too. Because for the first time in a very, very long time, hearing someone say my full name didn’t sound too bad.
Fletcher gave it new life.
Chapter Three
“It’s been the biggest blessing of our lives,” Haley Goodwin said, lowering her eyes to her seven-year-old daughter. “It couldn’t have come at a better time. We truly needed this.”
I put the pen to paper and scribbled her quote. Even with the digital recorder rolling between us, I wanted to ensure that each of her words were captured and recorded on the page. I’d watched her for ten minutes, listening and writing as she talked with me, and I gave each one of her words the time and attention they deserved.
Tonight I wouldn’t be distracted. Tonight I was going to forget about everything happening at home. This was about friendship, about helping people, about accomplishing something. And for now, my focus belonged only to Haley and Amanda Goodwin.
I only wished I would’ve taken the chance to give them that special time and attention when we’d first met at the clothing drive a few weeks ago, back when I was still heavily involved with the program and helped little Amanda find some warm clothing for the winter. Since, I’d learned very little about the woman sitting in front of me—only that her name was Haley, and like I’d always suspected, she was a single mother without many options for getting by. But Haley had been good to me, letting me get a small glimpse of their lives and how things had changed since the RI program started in Sugar Creek.
“Everything that you, your friends, and the Raddick Initiative have done for us … we’ll be forever grateful, Mandy. I can’t thank you enough.”
That’s what I loved about RI; it was creating opportunities and new beginnings for people who needed and deserved them the most—people like Haley and Amanda. It worked beautifully for everyone inside and outside of the program. The rewards were mutually beneficial, whether you played a part in making the change or the change somehow impacted your life. I knew, because I felt like I’d been on both ends of what RI had to offer.
Sadly, it had taken me far too long to see the true meaning of what we were doing. And I used the word we very loosely… since I wasn’t part of the group anymore.
I was no longer competing for the district or the scholarship. Two days ago, I’d thrown in the towel, called it quits. Somewhere between being called out on my selfishness by one too many people and my own self-awareness, I knew it was the best possible solution for the Sugar Creek district. I had to leave the team. It was the only way they would ever stand a chance at winning, especially after all the scandal I’d caused with—
“Gabe!” The loud squeal of seven-year-old Amanda elicited the stares of almost every patron in the church. Little by little, they lost interest and turned back to their respective conversations and meals. Amanda, though, sprang from her seat and ran at him.
The Thursday night soup kitchen, as always, was bringing in dozens of families from all over Sugar Creek. Driving out to the church t
his evening created a great opportunity for me to not only walk away from my crazy family for a night but to walk among the crowd and talk to some of the locals, obtaining quotes from the townspeople about the impact of the program on their lives.
I’d quit the team, yes, but there was no keeping me away from it. Inherently, I knew it was exactly where I’d always belonged. My friend Georgia knew, too, and that’s why, as editor of our high school paper, she’d assigned me to the cover the remainder of the RI program for the Herald. So there I was—right back where I wanted to be, but in a much better position. I was hard at work, covering the action, but never lifting a finger to help. I had my place, and officially unattached from RI, I could stay close by without raising any suspicion.
“Hey there.” Gabe’s voice was breathless as young Amanda slammed into his midsection and wrapped her scrawny arms around his body. He whisked her off her feet, swung her around in a circle, and only stopped long enough to smother her inside a giant hug. He set her on the ground, both of them smiling.
“I haven’t seen you since you came to my house!” Amanda squealed, her eyes widening as she watched his expression soften further. “Did you read the note I gave you? Huh? Did you?”
“I did,” he kneeled down to her level, this time tapping her nose with the pad of his index finger. “It was very sweet of you to take the time to write that.”
“Thank you,” she said, her cheeks glowing a bright shade of pink.
“And I hope you don’t mind, but I shared your letter with Mandy here, too.”
I looked over my shoulder, trying to pretend it was the first time I’d looked in his direction. Gabe didn’t need to know that I hadn’t taken my eyes off him since the moment he approached the table. He didn’t need to know that I’d already scanned every inch of him with adoring eyes, admiring how well he pulled off nothing more than a t-shirt and jeans. And he most definitely didn’t need to know that every moment he’d shared with little Amanda had only made me respect him more.
Breaking Ties Page 2
