by Anne Dayton
I make my way toward a wooden bench leaning against a wall of empty classrooms. The bench is painted in a garish selection of primary colors that all look muddy in the darkening evening air.
I lower myself down and lean back, staring into the sky. The Miracle Girls are always going on about how you can see God’s power in the night sky, but when I look up, I don’t see evidence of a huge and powerful God. There’s no cosmic collection of light. All that’s up there is a gray blanket of clouds.
I take a few deep gulps of air and try to slow my breathing, but my breaths come short and fast, like I’m gasping. Why does it bother me so much? It’s not that I really thought I’d find an answer in the stars. They’re just tiny pinpricks of light that mean somewhere out in the cosmos something huge is on fire.
I cross my arms over my chest. The band switches songs, and a cheer goes up from the crowd as they launch into one of their slower tunes. There’s a party going on inside, and once again I’m out here alone.
I shake my head and sit up, then rest my elbows on my knees and lower my head into my hands. The sting of tears burns against my eyes, and I squeeze them shut, but it doesn’t stop the tears from spilling out.
I want to believe more than anything.
I listen to the music behind me and let the tears fall. Nobody’s going to hear me anyway. I take a deep, gasping breath, working to get enough air into my lungs as I try to picture my mother’s face. When that doesn’t work, I try to think about Emma’s laugh or my dad’s smile.
But all I can think about is how numb I felt as I waited on that road that day. I knew, even then, that I should have died. There’s no way anyone should have survived that crash, but there I was without a scratch on me, and all I could feel was a sense that there was supposed to be more.
I climbed up to the road and stood there, praying into the abyss, until a car drove by, and I flagged it down. I didn’t know Zoe then, so I didn’t recognize the weird hippie woman who stepped out of the car and called the ambulance for me. To this day I don’t know if Zoe knows Dreamy was there.
I take a deep breath and try to get my breathing under control, but it doesn’t keep the tears from falling. I wipe my sleeve across my face and under my nose, but more just keeps coming.
My body shakes as I remember waiting in the hospital alone. Dad came as soon as he could, but it took several hours to drive back from Sacramento. By the time he made it, I knew she was dead. They wouldn’t tell me anything until he came, but I knew what their silence meant.
Something warm touches my back and I open my eyes, but all I can see is a shadow. I sit still, and an arm wraps around my back. Ana’s perfume, sweet and earthy, fills the air as she takes a seat next to me on the bench. I lean in to her a little. The warmth of her body is soothing. We sit in silence for a few minutes until I feel something on my other side. A hand on my shoulder. I turn my head a little and suck in a great gulp of air. Zoe.
She slides her hand across my shoulders and rests her arm across my back and waits. I must look like a blubbering fool. I try to get under control, to stop the tears from falling, but no one says anything as I continue to bawl.
And then I feel a hand rest on my lower back. Ana quickly adjusts her position on the bench, and I catch a glimpse of blonde hair as Riley slides in next to her.
I know the music is still playing behind us, but I don’t even hear it anymore. I just hear Riley’s slow breathing and Zoe’s mumbled prayers under her breath and feel Ana’s hand rubbing my shoulder.
No one says anything. No one has to.
I don’t even know how long we sit there like that, the four of us huddled together in the cold dark night, arms around each other, but slowly I begin to notice something changing. The silence doesn’t seem so empty anymore.
My eyes are so puffy they’re almost sealed shut, but I open them and look to my right, then to my left, and see the girls waiting patiently with me, holding me. I guess I should be surprised they’re all here, together again, but I’m not. Somehow it feels like it couldn’t have happened any other way. I needed them, all of them, and they needed me too. We needed this.
“You’re not in this alone,” Ana says quietly. “That’s why we’re here.”
I nod. I guess I know that. On some level, maybe I’ve always known that.
I don’t know about all this miracle stuff. The other girls have always believed that, but I’m not sure I did until just now. Maybe that’s why we’re all still here. For each other. God isn’t going to send a choir of angels to show me he’s out there. He sent something else instead. The three of them.
No one speaks, but I have a feeling I know what we’re all thinking. Something bigger than us is holding us together. We can’t let our friendship break apart.
I cast my eyes up at the sky. The clouds have shifted, and the outline of the moon shines through the thin patch of clouds in front of it, reflecting light onto us all.
40
Mr. Dumas coughs. I look up, but he’s writing obliviously in his lesson book. I turn back to Mom’s canvas and study it. It’s weird to work on something she started, but it makes me feel close to her. I pick up my brush and get back to work. I’ve only got a few weeks to finish this.
I don’t know why I never thought to ask Mr. Dumas about this before. Of course he’d let me stay after school and paint. The classroom is still and quiet, and there’s no annoying wedding chatter. With the big day a month away, there’s no peace at my house. Plus, I can’t work on this there because this painting is for Dad and Candace.
The long, thick windows by the classroom door are dark when Mr. Dumas finally stretches, stands, and pushes his chair under his desk.
“Far be it from me to interrupt the creative process, but I have to head home now.”
Shoot. I was just starting to get some good work done. I lay my brush down.
“Make sure the door’s locked when you leave.” He pulls his raincoat off the back of his chair and slips it around his shoulders. “And no one in administration finds out.” He nods, then walks out the door.
Okay. I guess I get to stay. A slow smile spreads across my face. I can stay here all night if I want to. I love Mr. Dumas.
I dip the tip of my brush in rusty red paint. Just a dab is all I need.
I’ve only been at work for a few minutes when my phone rings. A glance at the screen tells me it’s Riley.
“You home?”
“Nope. Dumas’s room.” I laugh. “You?”
“Oh. Great. I’m outside the gym. Practice is over. Can I come by?”
“Sure. I’ll save you a seat.”
“See you in a few.”
As much as I love Riley, I almost wish she weren’t coming. It’s so peaceful, so quiet here, and I’m making good headway, but when she swings the classroom door open a few minutes later, her eyes and face are red and she has mascara running down her cheeks. I drop my brush.
“Riley, what’s wrong?”
She closes the classroom door and sets her gym bag down on the desk in the front of the room.
“Are you okay?”
She nods, but tears are glistening in her eyes. “It’s good news, really.” She nods. “I mean, I guess.”
I always feel so useless when someone else is crying. I can’t tell if she’s happy or sad, or a bit of both. Do I go put my arms around her? I don’t know, so I sit still.
“Tom heard from his mom about a new experimental therapy program they’re starting at UCSF.” Riley sniffs. “It’s for people with forms of high functioning autism.”
“Like Michael.”
She nods. “It’s supposed to be really good. The guy who runs it is the world’s leading specialist in treating this stuff.” Riley moves over to the desk next to me and hoists herself up so she’s sitting on top of it. “And Tom’s mom pulled some strings to get Michael in.”
“That’s great. Right?” I roll my brush around in my hand. Am I missing something? This sounds like good news to me.
Riley nods. “It’s just that . . .” She takes a deep breath. “It’s a residential program. Michael has to move there.”
“What?” Michael’s too young to move out. He can barely function on his own. How can they expect him to live without his family? “Like, move there move there?”
“For three months to start.” Riley nods, and fresh tears come to her eyes. “Christine, I know it’s the best thing for him, and we’ll go and see him every weekend. I know that. But I don’t want him to go.”
Her voice becomes high and a little squeaky at the end of her sentence, and she hops down off the table and walks to Mr. Dumas’s desk. She takes a tissue out of the box on the desk, and another pops right up in its place.
I try to think of some positives to the situation to cheer her up. “Well, you’ll get to see Tom a lot more, right? And Michael loves to see Tom.”
She blows her nose loudly and takes a deep breath. “Tom got into UC Santa Barbara. It’s his dream come true. But I can’t even be happy for him. I’m so upset about everything else.”
I walk over and put my arm around her. Riley loops both her arms around me and pulls me into a hug.
“What’s Michael going to do without us?” She holds the tissue to her nose and blows lightly. “And what am I going to do without Michael?”
41
I lean back against the windshield and see Ana running toward my car, waving a paper over her head.
“Ana’s coming.”
Zoe keeps her eyes shut against the sun’s warm rays and nods her head a little. It’s early May, and it’s finally beginning to feel like summer. School will be out soon, and the sun broke through the clouds late this afternoon. The parking lot is full of kids hanging around, lying in the beds of trucks, enjoying the sunshine. We’re sprawled on the hood of my car, hanging out until everyone’s rides get here. Things aren’t exactly back to normal between us all, but they’ve been better. I think that night at church we all realized what we almost threw away, and we’ve been trying harder.
Ana sits by my feet and waves the piece of paper around frantically. “I did it! I did it!”
I yawn. “Did what?” I know what she did, but I’ll let her say it herself anyway.
“Where’s Cheerleader Girl?” Ana asks.
“Not here yet,” Zoe puts her arms over her eyes to shield them from the sun.
“But she’s coming, right? I need to know what she got on her trig test. Do you guys know what she got?”
Zoe squints at me and bites her lip.
“We don’t care what she got, and I don’t think you should either.”
“I’ll be nice about it.” Ana smiles at me. “It’s not like I’m an idiot. I’ll just casually ask.”
Zoe pushes herself up onto her elbows. “Please don’t. She doesn’t like competing with you.” I raise an eyebrow at Zoe. I’ve never heard her be that firm with anyone, and I want to give her a high five.
“You guys are being so dramatic. I just need to know what she got on this one last test. Trig was my only weak spot all year, and I pulled out a 100. It all comes down to this.”
I make eye contact with Ana. “Seriously. Don’t. Things are just getting back to normal. I don’t want you to upset her. And you shouldn’t be competing with her anyway.” I give her a hard stare, the one I use on Emma to say, “Don’t even think about it.”
Ana ignores me and tries to get comfortable on the edge of the hood. Across the parking lot, I see a flash of blond hair. Andrew is walking with Kayleen. They stop in front of her silver Beemer, and Andrew smiles and gives me a goofy wave, but I pretend I don’t see him.
Ana sits up suddenly. “I was eavesdropping on my mom the other day, and I heard her coordinating car shopping with Papá. Can you believe it?” She leans forward and claps her hands.
“I can definitely believe it. Did you tell them you wanted a Barbie mobile?”
“I’ve dropped a few hints.” She leans back and lays on the shiny silver hood. The sun is making us lazy, and we sit in silence for a moment, enjoying the feel of its rays.
“Hey,” Zoe says, her voice sleepy, “there’s Riley.”
“This is it,” Ana says. “The moment of truth.”
“Ana, seriously!” I’m going to throttle her myself.
She throws her hands up in the air. “I’ll be nice. We’ll find out soon enough anyway.”
We all squint through the afternoon sun to watch Riley’s approach. She’s trudging to my car as if every step pains her. Finally she sits on the edge of the hood, props her feet on the bumper, and slumps over.
“What’s wrong?” Zoe asks.
“Nothing.” Riley sighs. She gives us a weak smile, and Ana fingers the edge of her paper.
“Cheerleader, seriously. You can’t fool us. What’s wrong?”
Riley lets out a long breath. “Whatever. I guess if I can’t tell you guys, who can I tell?” She scratches at an imaginary spot on her jeans. “It’s just—it’s stupid I know—but I’m having a hard time with this Michael thing. It’s all happening so fast.”
Ana folds her paper in half.
“He’s going for sure?” Zoe asks, wrinkling her nose.
Riley nods, her eyes trained on her lap. “My parents decided last night.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ana slip her test quietly into her bag.
“Mom’s worried too. She started ironing these little labels into all of his clothes.” Riley pulls her hair up into a ponytail. It’s grown out a lot this year. It’s almost shoulder length now. “He’s never been away from home. You can’t exactly send him to summer camp or anything.”
Ana slowly slides a hand onto Riley’s shoulder. “You know, I’ll bet Michael will really surprise you. He’ll do fine. He’s really grown up a lot this year.”
Riley shuts her eyes, and lets the sun fall on her face. She frowns a little and sighs. “I know you’re right,” she says, keeping her eyes shut. “I can’t stop stressing though. I even bombed that stupid trig test today.”
For a moment, an awkward silence hangs in the air. I try to catch Ana’s eye, but she’s staring at her feet. We all know what this means, but I wonder if Riley even cares.
“Do you want us to go with you when you drop Michael off?” Ana asks quietly. Her voice falters a bit.
Riley pulls her head up and opens her eyes. “Thanks, guys.” She unzips her purse and pulls out a tissue. “I’ll be okay. Tom’s going to be there, and that’s what Michael needs.”
Ana nods. “It’s really great what Tom is doing for Michael.”
Zoe not so subtly hits me, and I laugh a little. There it was, Ana’s apology over the Tom fight—or at least as close as we’ll ever get to hearing one. Even I can’t help but smile.
Riley laughs and looks at a group of guys sitting on the open tailgate of a truck. They’re punching each other and laughing. “Yeah, he’s awesome.”
We sit in silence for a moment.
“So.” Riley’s voice is way too bright and cheery, even for a cheerleader. She’s obviously trying to change the subject. “Did you decide which of your suitors to bring to the wedding?”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah right.”
The sun glints off a twisted Diet Coke can by the car next to mine.
Zoe bites her lip. “I still can’t believe we don’t get to come.”
“Emma said I could have her plus one, which was nice, but even two guests doesn’t help me, obviously.”
Ana shrugs. “It would be hard to get to San Francisco anyway.”
“I can’t believe it’s only two weeks away,” Riley says with something almost like excitement in her voice. “What does your dress look like?”
“I don’t know. It’s green. They measured me, so I guess it will fit.” I shrug. “No point in putting the hideous thing on until I have solid proof that it’s too late to stop this thing.”
Ana laughs. “Um, the 578 wedding invitations and the huge wedding dress in your house aren
’t proof enough?”
“I’m…” I stare at the Diet Coke can, the way the sun warps the light on the surface. “I don’t know. I’m still holding out hope.”
Zoe clears her throat and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Christine, it’s going to happen. It’s probably time to start accepting it.”
I move a little to get Zoe’s hand off my shoulder. “You don’t know that.”
For a moment no one says anything. I hear Ana shift in her seat. “Maybe you could bring Ms. Moore.” Zoe nudges me. “For support.”
I press the back of my head to windshield. “Not likely.”
“I don’t think she could come anyway,” Ana says. “Apparently the father she upset is making big headway with the school board. She’s not supposed to be in contact with any of her students.”
Zoe eyes me warily. “I think you need to bring someone with you to the wedding.”
I close my eyes and shake my head.
42
It seems like I’ve been driving forever when I finally spot the huge white dome. How long has it been since I’ve been here? Five years? Can it possibly have been that long? Sacramento is only two hours from Half Moon Bay, but every minute of the drive felt like a lifetime this morning, and even though I’ll probably get suspended for cutting school to come here, I don’t care. This had to be done, and the sooner, the better.
When I get to the palatial green manicured lawn spread out around the
capitol, my heart starts to race. I need to do this. People have to be held accountable for their actions.
I’ll just pay for a spot in the parking garage. I can’t waste time driving around looking for a space. I fork over my cash, pull into the first spot I see, and walk as quickly as I can to the door. My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest. He’d better be there.
I stumble my way up the capitol steps, then head to security. I tap my foot nervously as the uniformed police officer squints at my driver’s license. He looks up at me, then back down at my license. Finally he waves me on, and I walk toward the metal detector. I hold my breath. These machines always make me nervous for some reason. My purse travels through an X-ray machine on the conveyer belt next to me.
