“Sure.”
“I mean, have you read it—first page to last.”
I felt the red creep up my cheeks.
President Carter leaned back in his chair. It squeaked, and the sound of metal scraping against metal made my jaw hurt. “I want you to read the Book of Mormon all the way through. Will you do that? We’ll talk again when you’ve finished. Can you have it read by, say, the end of March?”
I thought about all the homework I had to do, my seminary assignments, and my chores at the Paramount. I barely had time to write in my wildlife journals. Now, on top of all that, I had four months to read the Book of Mormon.
“I’ll try,” I said. But I wasn’t too enthused.
“Good.” President Carter stood up and walked with me to the door. “Remember what I told you about Dani. Be her friend.”
“I haven’t stopped.”
He shook my hand. His grip was tight, almost desperate. “Please don’t.”
Chapter Nine
Dani’s parents wouldn’t let her drive the mini-van on weekends unless she attended seminary during the week. So in December she didn’t miss a single day. She even started riding with me to school again.
One morning, a few days before midterms and the holiday break, she asked me if I was going to the Holly Berry Ball, the school’s annual night-before-New-Year’s-Eve dance.
Of course I’d heard of it, but I acted like I hadn’t.
“I hope I get to go,” Dani said. “I just need someone to ask me.”
It occurred to me that she wanted me to take the hint and ask her. Her father’s words echoed in my ears: Be her friend. But I hadn’t forgotten homecoming night and how she’d dumped me the minute she had a chance to get to Hunter Rockwell.
So I didn’t ask, and Dani looked disappointed when I parked the truck in the school lot and got out without so much as a hint of an offer. I didn’t care if she was asked to the Holly Berry Ball or not. I had more important stuff on my mind.
First, I had the commitment I’d made to President Carter to read the Book of Mormon. I’d read the title page—that was it. He wanted me to think about serving a mission. But I’d received a packet full of scholarship applications for Nelson–Barrett U, along with an application for their undergrad research program, and it was hard to think about anything else. Dr. Wallace had been true to his word and had nominated me for a full scholarship! I’d been studying for midterms; we’d had a body at the Paramount every night since the first of December, and I’d been helping my parents with visitations every day after school. I even had to miss church one Sunday to help Mom with a funeral.
It was a relief when midterms were over. I planned to get up every morning at seven during the break and get caught up on my wildlife journals. But the first morning of winter break Dad woke me up at six. He had to pick up a body in Paducah, Kentucky. The trip there and back would take most of the day. Mom needed Marshall to help her get ready for the evening’s visitation, Marcy had her hands full with little Des, and Granddad was having a root canal. Dad was left with two choices: take me or take the cat. Somehow Lima Bean avoided the draft. I put on a suit and tie.
The monotonous rhythm of the interstate drive lulled me back to sleep. I woke up when Dad stopped to gas up at a convenience store in Blytheville. Dad gave me a ten and told me to go in and get breakfast. I got a pork chop biscuit, a Yoo-hoo, and a Hunk-O-Choklit bar with extra nuts. I got Dad two egg and cheese biscuits, two cans of diet soda, and three creme-filled donuts.
Once we were back on the interstate, Dad put in an Elvis CD and cranked up the volume. When his mouth wasn’t full of biscuits and donuts, he sang along with the King. I ate my biscuit and candy bar quietly. When I was finished, there was nothing else to do but stare out the window at the flat landscape.
As Elvis sang “I Got Stung,” we crossed over from Arkansas into the Missouri boot heel. By the time Elvis sang the last note of the last song on the CD, we were at the Sikeston exit. Dad stopped at another convenience store, and I filled up the hearse while he went to the restroom.
Dad put in another Elvis CD, and we got back on the interstate. Several tunes later, Dad was harmonizing with Elvis on “I Forgot to Remember to Forget” when he whizzed past our turnoff.
I shook Dad’s shoulder. “We were supposed to go that way.”
“I know.”
“Then why’d you pass the exit?”
Dad turned Elvis off in the middle of “Steamroller Blues.”
“I want to show you something,” he said.
Dad never turned Elvis off in the middle of a song.
Soon we were crossing the Mississippi River. Halfway over the bridge a sign welcomed us to Illinois. “I’m not seeing anything yet,” I said.
“You will.”
Since Dad obviously didn’t need my map-reading skills, I decided to fold the map and put it in the glove compartment. But maps never fold up to look the same once you’ve unfolded them. I fought with the paper until I was ready to wad it and throw it into the river.
Finally, Dad interrupted my map wrestling. “Here we are—Fort Defiance.” He parked the hearse, and we walked to what looked like a miniature concrete boat ramp. We stood at the edge; the river lapped close to our feet. I stuck my hands in my pockets and stared out at the water.
Dad nudged me. “Do you realize where we are?”
“At the river?”
“That’s the Ohio River,” he pointed to the left, “and the Mississippi is to the right. We’re standing at the confluence of two of the mightiest rivers in America. Here the two become one.” He opened his arms in a futile attempt to embrace the enormous view. “This is awesome stuff.”
“So we’re standing at the tip of Illinois.”
“You know your geography. There’s Kentucky,” he pointed to the left, then to the right, “and Missouri.”
The waters of the Ohio were greenish; the Mississippi’s, brown. I stepped to the edge of the concrete ramp and dipped my hand in the water. My arm tingled.
I grinned at Dad. There were a lot of things I wanted to say, but none of them were things I wanted to say out loud. So I settled for a one-word exclamation. “Cool.”
“It’s more than cool. It’s—it’s magical. At least to me.” Dad squatted beside me and put his hand in the water too. “You can feel the history, the energy this place has. There are ancient Indian mounds in this area. Lewis and Clark stopped here. Civil War generals fought for control of this confluence. Mark Twain was inspired by it.”
The wind picked up. I was cold, but I didn’t want to leave. I had never stood at the edge of anything that was so much bigger than me. This must be how astronauts feel when they look out from the space shuttle and see the earth, I thought. I’d never felt so small. And I didn’t know that feeling small could make me feel so good.
“It took me a long time, Kevin, but I think I’ve finally got things figured out. And it has to do with this spot.”
“What do you mean?”
“I sat on the bank too long.” Dad gazed out on the river as if he were trying to bring the end into focus. “I let too much time flow by.” He dried his hand with his handkerchief and then handed it to me so I could do the same.
“I don’t understand.”
Dad continued. “I ignored my testimony for a long time.” Dad stuck his hands in his pockets and jingled his keys. “When God saw I was ignoring the truth, He sent a flood that forced me into the river. I tried to swim against it, tried to get back to my comfortable spot on the bank, but the current was too strong. I couldn’t fight my testimony. I had to come back to church.”
“There have been times I wished I could crawl back to that comfortable spot on the bank,” he went on, “times I wanted to escape the responsibility of knowing the truth. But you can’t ignore the power of the river. You can’t fight the truth. The truth is bigger than you and me—bigger than anything.”
I breathed in the deep, moist air.
“I feel very
small standing here, Kevin.”
I’d been taller than Dad for years. But as we stood at the confluence and I listened to him bear his testimony, I realized I needed to measure his height with something more appropriate than a yardstick.
“Can I tell you something, Dad?”
“Sure.”
I choked down the lump in my throat. “You’re the biggest guy I know.”
A barge entered from the Ohio. We waved and the captain blew the horn.
Dad checked his watch. “We need to go.”
We got back in the hearse and drove to Paducah.
It was late in the afternoon when we headed back to Armadillo. We crossed the Ohio River, this time with a dead body in tow. The bridge that spanned the Mississippi was a short distance away. We’d have to cross it, too, to get back home.
As we drove over the second bridge, I watched the mighty Mississippi embrace its companion, and together they rolled on toward the Gulf of Mexico, their blended currents glazed by the sweetness of the sunset.
The Sunday before Christmas, Dani hounded me about the Holly Berry Ball during the whole forty-five minutes of Sunday School and Sister Hooper’s lesson about the seven seals in the book of Revelation. Then she followed me to priesthood, yapping on about how she knew she could borrow a dress from her friend Lisa, a new girl in her stats class.
“Look, I gotta go. Brother Conrad’s saving me a seat in priesthood meeting.”
Dani grabbed my arm in a show of unusual force. “I really want to go to the Holly Berry Ball. Will you go with me?”
“Why are you so desperate?” I jerked myself out of her grip. “It’s just a dumb ol’ dance.”
“Everyone’s going to be there. I’ll be the only girl in the senior class who’s not.” Her brown eyes gazed into mine, and for a second I felt like a large-mouth bass the moment before he bites down on a lure. Fortunately I saw the sharp, polished hook and backed away just in time.
“I haven’t forgotten the last time I took you to a dance.”
Dani’s face turned red—not from embarrassment, but anger. “I have to go to this dance. Especially since Hunter asked—”
“Aha! The truth comes out. Hunter didn’t ask you!”
She hung her head. “He asked me.”
My chest cramped with envy. “Don’t go out on a date with him.”
“My parents won’t let me. I had to tell him no.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Everyone knows he’s asked me out. I’ll look stupid if I don’t go. I told him that I already had another date. That’s why I need you to take me.”
“Why do you care what other people think?”
“You’d understand if you were in my shoes.”
I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation. “Remember back in seventh grade when I first moved to Armadillo? When I was having trouble with Chuck Stiller? Remember how he hounded me every day, how he wanted to beat me up? What did you say? You said don’t do something out of pride you’ll regret later. Don’t do something you’ll wish you hadn’t done.”
“But this is different.”
“No it’s not.”A tear spilled over her lashes and down her cheek, leaving behind a streak of makeup. “Thanks for caring.”
She passed her father, President Carter, as she walked away from me. She gave him a big fake smile as if everything was fine.
Hunter Rockwell—Mister Sherman County Football, Best Dressed, Biggest Flirt, Most Likely to Get His Way—was a jerk. If his influence could sway Dani from listening to me, her parents, and all the people who loved her—well, Hunter was a bigger jerk than I’d thought.
Then it occurred to me. Was Dani’s behavior really Hunter’s fault? She knew the difference between right and wrong, after all.
Dani didn’t say anything else about the dance, so I figured she didn’t go. But after the holiday break, wherever I saw Dani, I saw Hunter. And surprisingly, when I saw Dani she was friendly—more so than I’d expected, considering I’d refused to take her to the dance.
Then I saw the picture.
I was sitting in senior English. We had a sub that day, and since everyone had completed the day’s assignment, he let us have free time. Tiff Beeny and Jillian Wheeler, the senior class gossip queens, were going through their collection of couples’ photos from the Holly Berry Ball and compiling a best/worst dressed list. They were making up their own set of juvenile awards with categories like cutest couple, most expensive corsage, or girl with the heaviest makeup.
Tiff snickered. “Look at Tara and Michael. They look like they bought their outfits at a funeral home.”
Why are stupid conversations always louder than conversations worth listening to?
“Now there is the luckiest girl at the dance,” Jillian said as she handed Tiff another photo. “She gets the award for biggest catch.”
“It’s not fair, Jilly,” Tiff whined. “She’s so. . .”
“Plain?”
Tiff giggled.
Jillian lowered her voice. “Her dress looks awful.”
“It doesn’t fit right.”
“Even Hunt said she looked bad,” Jillian hissed. “Robert told me that he heard from Matt—you know, Matt knows the best friend of the guy who’s the trainer for the team—that Hunt was making bets on how long it would take her to have a wardrobe malfunction.”
I couldn’t wait to tell Dani what I’d heard. She’d be glad that she didn’t go to the dance with Hunter. I decided she deserved something special for upholding her standards. Maybe she’d go out with me to the Cow Palace? We could go bowling afterward too.
Tiff chuckled. “She used to make a big deal about her Mormon standards, that she didn’t do this or that. Now that she likes Hunter, her standards don’t mean so much anymore. Makes you wonder what she’s doing to get him to go out with her.”
Jillian gave Tiff a knowing look. “He’ll get tired of Dani. Then he’ll go somewhere else. He always does.” She leaned toward Jillian. “I heard he’s after that new girl, Lisa.”
I gasped.
Tiff and Jillian turned around.
I faked a cough. “Swallowed my gum,” I croaked. “Excuse me.”
Jillian made a face. “We’re not supposed to chew gum in class.”
I made a face back. “We’re not supposed to be gossiping, either.”
“Whatever,” Tiff said. She turned to Jillian. “Let’s get a restroom pass. See who’s out in the hall.”
While they were gone I searched through the photos on Tiff’s desk. There they were—Dani and Hunter—standing in front of a fake holly bush, and the words Holly Berry Ball sparkling above their heads. Hunter was wearing a black tux with a white carnation on the lapel. And Dani. . .
Where the heck did she get that dress? It was long, blue, and sleeveless. It was also neck-less, back-less, and practically chest-less.
Dani had helped me to learn a higher standard. Now she’d lowered hers—just to be accepted. I would have never asked her to change for me. I knew her well enough to know that she was not comfortable in that dress.
When school let out, I ran to her locker, hoping to catch her before she went out to meet her mom in the parking lot.
“Dani, we need to talk.”
She ignored me and continued talking to the girls standing around her.
I put my hand on her arm. “Please?”
She turned to the other girls and rolled her eyes. “I have to go. Call me tonight and fill me in on the plans for the weekend.”
I heard one girl whisper, “Make sure she doesn’t invite him.”
I knew they were talking about me.
We stopped at the end of the hall. I searched her doe-like eyes. “You went to the Holly Berry Ball, didn’t you?”
“So?”
“Your mom and dad let you go?”
She fidgeted. “Please don’t tell Mom and Dad! They’ll have a fit.”
“Why’d you do it?”
“I had to, Ke
vin. It was expected“
“That’s a crock.”
“My friends are different. You don’t understand them.”
“I’m your friend, and I would have never asked you to wear that dress to the dance.”
Dani’s hopeful expression unnerved me. “Did you like it?”
I wanted to tell her how Tiff and Jillian were making fun of her dress. But I didn’t. “There’s no way your dad would’ve let you out of the house if he’d seen it.”
“I borrowed it from Lisa,” Dani said smugly. “I spent the night at her house. Our dates picked us up there.”
“People are saying your ‘Mormon standards’ aren’t as important to you anymore.”
Dani looked indignant. “I still keep my standards. I don’t drink. Ask anybody. I’ve turned down beer at parties, and my friends are okay with that. I just tell them if they want to drink, I’ll be the designated driver.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “I never thought you’d go to a keg party.”
“You’re still mad because you think I dumped you at homecoming. You need to get over that. That was months ago.”
I didn’t want to tell her. I didn’t want to hurt her. But at the same time, part of me wanted the satisfaction of proving to her that she was oh so wrong about her so-called friends.
“So you’re not drinking with your friends. That’s not the only standard your friends are talking about.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re talking about what you’ve done to make Hunter want to go out with you.”
Dani almost dropped her books. Her bottom lip quivered. “I haven’t done anything.” Her face paled, and she held her books close to her stomach as if she was about to throw up.
I walked her out the door and past the line of cars to the parking lot. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but you need to know. Don’t you see? They’re not your real friends. You don’t have to be seen with Tiff or Jillian or even Hunter Rockwell for me to think you’re an amazing person. You don’t have to wear a strapless dress you borrowed from someone else to impress me.”
Dani brushed her hair back behind her ear. A glint of silver caught my eye. “What is that?”
The Final Farewell Page 7
