Invaluable

by Holly J. Wood

  Jason reached for my arm almost a little defensively, and we started walking toward my front door. I didn’t hear the car door close behind us, so I looked back to see Luke still standing by the car, looking a little impatient as he waited.

  Jason followed my gaze and frowned, annoyed. “He could at least wait in the car,” he said under his breath.

  Thank you, Luke! I rejoiced silently as I realized I wouldn’t have to endure an awkward doorstep scene. I wasn’t sure if Jason would have tried to kiss me, but I wanted my first kiss to be special, and I knew I needed to sort out my feelings for him before that could happen.

  When we reached the door, Jason leaned over and gave me a hug that lasted a few seconds longer than usual. “Thanks for coming tonight, Eliza. I can’t wait to see you again on Monday.”

  I gently pulled away. “Yeah, thanks for asking me. I had fun.” I reached for the doorknob. “Have a good night.” I opened the door and turned to go inside, sneaking one last look at Luke. My breath caught in my chest, because even from this distance, I could see he was looking right back at me.

  Chapter Four

  I awoke to the sound of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir being broadcast on the speakers throughout our house. I grumbled and rolled over, pulling the pillow over my head. Mom liked to wake us up on Sundays by playing church music so loud you couldn’t ignore it. Our meetings began at nine o’clock, so that meant one less day of the week I got to sleep in.

  I groaned. Why was waking up so hard? Maybe I could fake being sick today. I pursued that train of thought for a few moments, but then I got that little twinge in my stomach that I always got when I was thinking of doing something I knew I shouldn’t do. “All right, might as well get up and get it over with,” I sighed to myself as I rolled off the bed. I knelt and said a quick, groggy morning prayer and then trudged to the bathroom.

  I entered the kitchen at exactly 8:47 and saw Mom running around in her usual pre-church flurry. “Good morning, Liza! You look nice,” she said in a cheerful tone.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled and opened the pantry door to find something quick for breakfast. I snagged another granola bar, which earned a scowl from Mom, and sat down at the table where Courtney was finishing up her cereal. “Hey, Court, what did you and Alexis do last night?” I asked, remembering how they’d been spying on me through the window.

  “Not much,” she replied casually, but I sensed there was more to the story.

  “Why didn’t you come down and meet Jason? You used to like meeting the guys I go out with.”

  “Lexi and I were busy,” Courtney replied absently. She was reading the back of the cereal box and had yet to make eye contact with me.

  “Busy doing what?”

  She shrugged, and I was annoyed at her lack of participation so I decided to drop it.

  “Okay, girls, time to go.” Dad appeared from the hall, and I admired how handsome he looked in his suit. He smiled at us. “Well, don’t you two look lovely this morning?” Turning to Mom, he continued, “You better thank your mother. You got all your good looks from her.” He reached over and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  “Thank you, dear, how sweet!” Mom gushed. She and Dad were always affectionate with each other. I hoped someday I’d have a husband who would treat me as well.

  After throwing the granola bar wrapper in the trash can, I followed everyone out to the garage, where we piled into the family Suburban and headed off to church.

  As I walked into the foyer, I spotted Jill, who had obviously been waiting for me. I smiled, and she waved her hand impatiently, beckoning for me to join her. She gave me a scowl and said, “What’s the deal? Why didn’t you call me last night and tell me about your date?”

  “Oh, sorry, I totally spaced it!” I began to apologize, but then stopped. “Hey, wait a second! You can’t get mad at me because you never came to see me at work yesterday. Busy weekend or something?”

  Jill smiled guiltily. “I guess you’re right, but you could have at least sent me a quick text. I’ve been totally dying of curiosity!” She arched her eyebrows dramatically. “So, what’s going on? Are you and Jason an item now?”

  I made a face. “I don’t know. I’m totally confused! He’s so good to me, and he’s starting to act like my boyfriend, but—”

  “Eliza! Courtney! Please come along to class,” Mom called. “I’d like to start on time today.”

  I shrugged at Jill. “Guess I’ll have to tell you after class.” She sighed and followed me down the hall to the Young Women’s room. I passed Courtney, who was talking to Nathan Adams (one of the deacons that I knew had a crush on her). He said something and she giggled, sounding too much like Chelsea Andrews for my liking.

  “Come on, Courtney, you heard Mom.”

  She threw me a quick glare. “Co-ming.”

  When had she gotten so sassy? I wondered.

  Jill and I walked into the sunny room and found some seats nearest to the windows. I gazed around at the room Mom and her counselors had decorated profusely. A large poster with the Young Women theme was pinned next to the chalkboard and large, bright paper flowers with scriptures and quotes on them were taped all over the walls. Mom liked to go all out, and I knew she put a lot of time into her calling. She was giving the lesson today, and I’d seen her working on it all week. Secretly, I hoped she’d brought treats—that granola bar hadn’t done much to fill my empty stomach, and it was threatening to grumble.

  Courtney was the last girl to wander in, and I saw Mom give her a look that meant she was not happy with the tardiness. Courtney pretended not to notice as she slowly walked over to take an empty seat by another Beehive her age. Mom sighed, shut the door, and then, smiling cheerfully, she turned to all of us and said, “Good morning, girls! If you’ll all quiet down, I think it’s time we got started.”

  The chatter slowly died down, and for the first time, I noticed that Sister Owens had been playing on the piano. She played a few more bars and then finished, signaling that it was time to start. Mom smiled at her in appreciation. “Thank you, Sister Owens, for that lovely prelude music.” Looking around the room at all of us, she said, “I hope that next Sunday we’ll keep the talking down a bit more so we can enjoy the music and prepare for class.” She smiled, and I knew that most of the girls would remember what she said and try to work on it next week. Mom had a gift for saying things without sounding too preachy, and most of the girls respected her for it.

  We had the opening song and prayer, and after a few announcements, it was time to recite the Young Women theme. I hadn’t been paying much attention until I heard a shy voice say, “P-p-please s-s-stand and recite the th-th-theme.” A few girls giggled, and one of the leaders shushed them. I looked up to the front where Sierra Holbrook was standing. Her gaze was on the floor, and she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. She wore glasses and had straggly brown hair that she usually wore down, covering half of her face. She looked absolutely miserable to be standing in the center of attention, and I felt sorry for her.

  Being a little on the shy side myself, I understood how hard it could be to stand in front of a group like this. But add to that a speech impediment and it would be downright torture! Sierra had a stuttering problem, and it grew worse when she was nervous. She was a Mia Maid, and for the couple of years she’d been in Young Women, I’d never known her to accept when anyone asked her to do something that required her to be in the spotlight, like offer a prayer or lead the theme. She usually sat on the back row next to one of the leaders and didn’t talk to anyone. I was surprised to see her up there today, and judging by her obvious embarrassment, I doubted if she’d ever do it again. The theme ended, and Sierra shuffled to her seat on the back row, followed by the whispers and giggles some of the girls made when she walked by.

  “Poor thing,” Jill whispered in my ear. I nodded and we both glanced back at her, and then returned our attention to the front, where Mom was beginning her lesson.

  She stood by the chalkboard and poin
ted to the words she’d written in big letters: “Invaluable: valuable beyond estimation; priceless.” She underlined the “valuable” part of the word and began talking.

  “I know sometimes we repeat the theme without actually paying attention to the words we’re speaking. I think if the prophet feels it’s important enough for us to say it every week, then we should really focus on what it is we’re saying. These values we talk about are truly invaluable, and they will change our lives if we will simply apply them . . .”

  I tried to concentrate on Mom’s words, but my mind kept wandering to my date last night. What was Luke trying to pull? Why did he want me to come to their game this week? Why did he care if I liked Jason or not?

  “And so, I hope this week we can make a goal to truly strive to ‘accept and act upon these values’ in our everyday lives . . .”

  Did Jason think of me as his girlfriend now? At what point do you realize when you’ve got a boyfriend? Did I want him for a boyfriend?

  “One way you might try to do this is to choose a value to focus on each day. It could be the subject of your scripture study and then you could pray for help on ways to apply that value. And of course, there’s always Personal Progress . . .”

  My attention wavered again as I felt something brush against my arm. I looked over at Jill and saw that she had her scriptures open, seemingly listening to my mom’s lesson, but at closer glance, I saw that she was texting and using her scriptures to hide her phone. I felt a wave of annoyance and nudged her.

  She looked up at me in surprise and mouthed, What?

  I looked pointedly at her phone and shook my head disapprovingly.

  “I’m almost done,” she whispered and turned slightly away from me.

  I tried to listen to Mom’s words, but I couldn’t stop feeling mad about Jill’s behavior. It wasn’t like I’d been paying that much attention, but at least I tried to look like I was. I knew Mom had spent a lot of time on the lesson, and if she saw Jill texting, it would really hurt her feelings.

  Suddenly, the piano music started, and I realized it was time for the closing song. Jill discreetly snapped her phone shut, slipped it into her scripture bag, and picked up a hymn book off the floor in one fluid motion. I had to hand it to her—she was one seriously sneaky girl. If I hadn’t been paying attention, I never would have noticed any of that.

  After the closing song and prayer, we filtered out of class and down the hall to Sunday School. Jill was usually very animated and liked to talk with the boys in our class, but as the time passed, she seemed more and more withdrawn. After class, I pulled her aside. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

  She grimaced. “I don’t feel very well. I think I need to go home.”

  I looked at her in concern. “What is it, your stomach or something?”

  She made another face and nodded feebly. “Could you find my mom and tell her I went home sick?”

  I stroked her arm soothingly. “Sure. Do you want me to give you a ride home?”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s not very far. I’ll be fine.”

  “All right. Call me tonight and let me know if you think you’ll be going to school tomorrow.”

  She nodded weakly and walked out the door. I watched her for a few seconds and then headed into the chapel.

  • • •

  “So, what’s the deal? How are you feeling?” I asked. It was Sunday evening, and I was surfing the Internet while talking to Jill on the phone.

  “Oh, I’m doing lots better. I think it was just something I ate for breakfast that made me feel weird. I’ll definitely be going to school tomorrow.”

  “Good! I hate trying to find someone else to eat lunch with when you’re gone.”

  “Well, thanks for the sympathy. I’m glad to know you were more concerned about who you’d eat lunch with than about your poor, sick friend!” She piled on the sarcasm, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Sorry, I guess that did sound pretty selfish. It’s just different for me than it is for you, because even if I’m not there you still have Nick.”

  “Yeah,” she sighed dreamily. “Nick.”

  I instantly scolded myself for bringing up his name. I liked to avoid the Nick conversations as much as possible. I was about to change the subject when a message popped up on my screen.

  “Hey, someone’s trying to chat with me. I wonder who it . . .” I paused to check the screen. “Oh.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing. It’s just Jason. I guess he’s online right now too.”

  “Aha!” Jill said triumphantly.

  “What? It’s not like this means anything,” I responded defensively. Did it mean anything? I wasn’t so sure. Maybe Jason and I were becoming a couple. Maybe he’d been on the computer, waiting for me to go online.

  “Read it and see what he says.”

  With a hint of nervousness, I opened the message. “He says, ‘Hey, how’s it going?’ What should I say?”

  “Just tell him about your day, it’s no big deal. Oh! Nick’s calling on the other line, I gotta go. Good luck! I’ll see you in the morning.” Before I could say anything, she was gone, and I was left staring helplessly at the screen.

  Taking a deep breath, I typed what I hoped was a very casual response:

  Me: Good. How are you?

  Jason: I’m great! I hope I’m not interrupting anything. Did you have fun last night?

  Me: I was just talking to Jill. Yeah, I did have fun, thanks again!

  Jason: I hope you weren’t bugged by the guys. They can be a little annoying sometimes & I noticed Becka & Britney weren’t very nice, but they’re always like that so I hope you didn’t take it personally.

  I smiled as I read this. At least I hadn’t been the only one to notice how mean they were.

  Me: No, I had a great time, I promise. ☺

  Jason: Good, because Luke and I were talking last night, and we thought it would be fun if we all hung out again sometime.

  This was the opening I’d been hoping for!

  Me: Cool, did Luke ask Whitney to prom?

  Please say no. Please say no.

  Jason: No, he totally chickened out! I told him he’s a dork and that he better not wait too much longer. A cool girl like Whitney will get asked by someone else pretty soon. That’s why I asked you so early cuz I knew you’d get snatched up fast if I didn’t.

  Yes! I felt a huge wave of relief wash over me. I’d been worrying about if and when Luke had asked Whitney last night, but the fact that he still hadn’t asked her probably meant that he wasn’t going to at all.

  Me: So, what do you think he’s waiting for?

  Jason: Who knows? He was acting kind of weird last night. After I told him he needed to ask her soon, he got all quiet and said he was thinking of not going this year. He gave some lame excuse about saving his money or something, so I said, “Dude, it’s your senior year, you should totally go.” We’ll see what happens, but I was hoping they would be in our group because it seemed like you and Whitney got along pretty well & I really want it to be a special night for you.

  Me: Thanks. . . . Hey, I gotta run, but it was nice chatting. I’ll see you tomorrow.

  Jason: Ok. You can call or text me anytime—I always have my phone on me. Have a great night, Eliza.

  I sat back in my chair and thought about what Jason wrote. To my surprise, I felt faintly disappointed. I hadn’t wanted Luke to ask Whitney to prom, but in preparing for the worst, I’d expected that he would. I’d even started daydreaming about seeing him in a tuxedo. The other thing I had consoled myself with was the fact that we would have been in the same group and I could have been near him—even if it was only for part of the evening.

  I felt disgusted with myself; I wouldn’t have been happy either way, and I knew the real reason was because I wanted to be his date. I was completely obsessed with a guy I didn’t have the slightest chance with, and I was torturing myself over it.

  But, the little voice i
nside my head whispered, he took the time to talk to you last night, and when he looked at you, there was definitely something in his eyes.

  I smiled as I relived that moment in the hallway when it had been just the two of us. It had felt so natural to be close to him, to talk to him. Maybe . . . maybe there was something there. Maybe Luke hadn’t asked Whitney to prom because secretly he wanted to ask someone else—someone who already had a date. My heart protested as I allowed the hope to glimmer and then burn with a bright flame. If I had even the slightest chance to be with Luke I would do whatever it took to be with him.

  I glanced over at the latest issue of my favorite fashion magazine lying on the nightstand. The girl on the cover was gorgeous: totally skinny with perfect hair, skin, teeth, and makeup. She was wearing a tight tank top and short shorts, and she had her hands on her hips in a confident pose. I looked at her with envy. No guy on this planet would be able to resist a girl like that. And then I got an idea. I grabbed my cell and sent Jill a quick text.

  Me: Hey, would you mind bringing that new tank top tomorrow? I want to borrow it—if that’s cool.

  I was prepared to wait a while for her reply because I figured she was still chatting with Nick, so I was surprised when my phone buzzed right away.

  Jill: Sure! I bought a couple of them, so I’ll bring a few for you to choose from. See you tomorrow!

  Me: Thanks! See ya! ☺

  I threw my phone on the bed and picked up the magazine, hoping to find some hot new tips for applying makeup. I wanted Luke Matthews to notice me and that meant I needed to look perfect tomorrow. Besides, what was one little tank top?

  Faith

  “Faith is things which are hoped for and not seen; wherefore, dispute not because ye see not, for ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith.”

  —Ether 12:6

  Chapter Five

  Eliza? Wake up, dear.”

  I rubbed my eyes, peering out at my bright room, and then I suddenly sat bolt upright. Had I slept in somehow? Why hadn’t Jill called? Or Mom come to wake me up? As the room slowly came into focus, I realized that the light wasn’t coming from the window. I did a double take and rubbed my eyes again, my mouth dropping open in disbelief. There, sitting on my bed as casual as could be, was my great-grandma Eliza Porter. She’d passed away before I was born, but I recognized her perfectly from the many pictures my mom had of her. She had the same wavy white hair, the same dimple in her right cheek, and, most noticeably, the same bright blue eyes my mom and I had inherited from her. She wore a simple white dress, and she smiled at me.