Bad Connection

by Melody Carlson

  “Here's the deal, Samantha. If you really believe this thing—this gift—is from God…well, I guess I can't really argue with you on it. But if I begin to notice any strange behavior, anything that causes me to be concerned, then I'm going to ask you to see Paula again.”

  “I can live with that.”

  “As far as working with Ebony…well, she seems like a levelheaded person. I suppose I can trust her. But I'm going to give her the same warning. If you start acting weird, start going off the deep end, I expect her to notify me.”

  “I'm sure she would anyway.”

  “So, we agree then?”

  “Totally.”

  “Okay.” Mom shrugs. “Though I can't imagine how it's going to do any good.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I don't talk about this to anyone. Besides Olivia and, of
  She nods. “You're right about that. And I appreciate it. I don't want people at work asking me about my psychic daughter.”

  “I'm not a psychic, Mom.”

  “I know that, Samantha. But other people might think you are.”

  And then she changes the subject to Zach and how she's worried that he's getting into drugs again. “There was a message on the machine last night. The video store called to let him know that he's fired.” She sighs. “Big surprise there.”

  “I suspected as much.” 3

  Her brow creases. “You had a vision?”

  “No.” I sort of laugh. “Olivia and I were at the video store last night, and they seemed pretty ticked that he hadn't come to work.”

  “Oh.” She frowns. “Well, if you really are gifted in seeing things, Samantha, why doesn't God use this gift to help your own family? Why don't you ask God to show you some way to fix Zach?”

  “I wish it were that simple, Mom.” I suppress my irritation. “It's not like I can control it. It's something that God does. I just try to be available.”

  Mom glances at her watch. “Speaking of being available, I should probably head back to the parade to make sure it went okay. You ready?”

  As Mom drives back toward town, I feel a small sense of relief. At least she seems signed off on me working with Ebony. Still, I feel sad too. I know that Mom doesn't believe in this gift. I know that she thinks I'm just playing some kind of bizarre game. Like maybe I need to act like this “crazy girl” to get attention. And the truth is exactly the opposite. As much as I want to serve God, as much as I want to help Kayla, my life would be much simpler without this kind of gift. I just hope God really knows what He's doing.

  Twelve

  Looks like we haven't missed much.” Mom parks her car back in the reserved section of the holding area. The last participants in the parade, including Santa's sleigh, are just heading out now. “They must've had some delays along the way.”

  “I think I'll call Olivia to come and pick me up,” I tell Mom as we get out of her car.

  “You don't want to see the end of the parade? Or sit on Santa's lap?” she teases as we walk across the parking lot toward Main Street.

  “Tempting as that sounds, I think I'll pass.” I pull out my new phone and flip it open.

  She looks at my phone. “Pretty fancy. Ebony must really be taking you seriously.”

  “I guess…”

  “Or else she's trying to make up for something.”

  I look curiously at my mom. “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe she feels guilty Samantha.”

  “For what?”

  You know… “ Mom begins to walk faster, and I hurry to keep pace with her.

  “No, I don't know. What?”

  “She was with your dad that day. She was his partner. Maybe she feels guilty.”

  “No,” I say quickly since we're around other people now. That's not it.”

  “You just never know, Samantha…” She gives me this o look now. Kind of dark and foreboding and suspicious looking. And I can't believe this woman is really my mom.

  “See you later.” I turn in the other direction, feeling like I can't get away from her fast enough. And okay, I know the Bible says to respect your parents, but it's hard to respect that.

  I dial Olivia's number, but her cell is turned off. So I call her house and get the answering machine. Great! Now I'm stuck in town. I glance over at what I'm guessing is getting close to the end of the parade coming around the corner and entering Main Street. The group of horses and soggy riders slog their way through the slushy snow. It seems to be melting as quickly as it falls. Even so, it's biting cold out here, and I'm sure that Mom won't be heading home for hours. Not that I want to ride with her.

  I duck into Lava Java Coffee House which, of course, is packed. But at least it's warm in here. I get into the line, trying to decide what to do next. As I'm standing there, I'm thinking, why doesn't God show me what to do at times like this? And if I really were a psychic, which I'm not, wouldn't I have known that Olivia wouldn't be able to pick me up? Wouldn't I have come up with some kind of backup plan?

  “Samantha,” a guy says, and I turn to see Conrad Stiles rubbing his hands together as he steps into line behind me. “I thought that looked like you.”

  “Hey, Conrad.” Suddenly I feel very self-conscious, and I remember every word Olivia said about how Conrad's been asking about me. I wonder if he knows what I'm thinking?

  “How's it going?”

  I shrug. “I was freezing out there, so I thought I'd get something to warm up with.”

  “Me too.”

  “Did you come to watch the parade?” That's kind of weird, but you never know.

  He grins. “Not exactly. I'm supposed to pick up my little sister, Katie. She's marching with the Amazing Mini Majorettes:

  “The little girls who twirl batons?”

  He nods. “Pretty hokey, huh?”

  “I think they're cute.” I move up a few inches in the line, and he follows. “In fact, I remember how I wanted to be a twirler when I was a little girl.”

  “How come you didn't?”

  “Well, the only time I really wanted to do it was during the parades, and that was only because I thought their costumes were cool. After that, I'd forget all about it. Besides, I'm kind of a klutz. I probably would've dropped my baton too much or seriously injured someone.”

  He laughs. “So, what are you doing here? Did you come to watch the parade?”

  “I was helping my mom with the park district float,” I tell him, which isn't untrue. “It gets pretty crazy with all the little kids right'before the parade starts.” q

  We continue chatting like this as the line makes a snail pace forward, and finally I am ordering a coffee. I decide o to get a mocha.

  “Want to sit together?” Conrad asks as I move out of the line to wait for my drink.

  “Sure.”

  “Why don't you find a spot, and I'll bring your coffee with mine.”

  So I hand him my receipt and go off in search of a table. The place is packed, but just as I get to the back of the room, a couple of women vacate their little round table, and I pounce on it. I unzip my coat and loosen my scarf then dig into my backpack until I find my lip gloss, which I quickly apply

  Okay, I don't normally consider myself a vain person, but there's nothing wrong with caring a little. Of course, this makes me wonder how my hair is doing, but based on this damp, snowy weather, I can be fairly certain that it's probably frizzing all over the place by now. Oh, the blessing of these natural curls.

  Olivia is always telling me that she'd happily trade hair with me, which I think is nuts since she has the most gorgeous long blond hair that's naturally straight and silky. Of course, her complaint is that she has to wash it every single day to look decent. Whereas my hair is really low maintenance. I can go several days without a shampoo maybe even a week if I was camping. So I guess I should t: be thankful.

  “You found a table.” Conrad sets our coffees down then re
moves his damp letterman's jacket, gives it a shake, and hangs it over the back of his chair. Then he pulls off his wool knit cap, which causes his hair to stfck out in absolutely every direction.

  I can't help but chuckle, but I try to cover it up by taking a quick sip of my mocha.

  “Yeah, I know.” He sits down. “I probably look like Bozo the Clown now. It's bad enough having red hair, but I'll bet it looks like something exploded up there.” He gives it a pat, which only manages to flatten the top so he really does look like Bozo.

  “I don't think that's going to help much. But hey, if it makes you feel better, I sort of know how you feel.” I do the little hand plumping motion to the side of my own hair. “I'm sure my lovely locks are looking pretty wild too.”

  “I like your hair.”

  I sort of nod, unsure of how to react to this unexpected compliment. Olivia is always telling me that I'm not good with flattery—probably because I seldom hear it. “Well, thanks,” I finally mutter. “I think that curls are kind of an acquired taste.”

  “I happen to think straight hair is boring.”

  I laugh. “I guess I never thought of it like that.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  “So how do you know when to pick up your little sister?”

  He takes his cell phone out of his pocket then sets it on the table. “She's supposed to call when they're done.”

  “She has her own cell phone?”

  He laughs. “She wishes. But Katie's like six years old. She's borrowing my mom's. Both my parents had to work o today. That's why I'm on Katie patrol.” “

  “So, did you watch her in the parade?”

  “Yeah, of course.” He takes a sip of his coffee. It looks like a mocha too. That's nice.

  “Did she drop her baton?”

  “Not that I saw. But then, she still had a long ways to go too.”

  “Man, I bet they're freezing their little legs off today, if they're wearing those short outfits, that is.”

  He nods. “Yeah, they looked pretty chilly. But at least they're moving.”

  We chat for a while, and I'm surprised at how easy it is to talk to him. He seems like just a regular guy. And I suppose he is. But he's also a fairly cool guy around our school. Or so. I've imagined. The truth is, I don't really know Conrad very well. Mostly that he's a Christian and that-he's involved in a lot of sports and school activities. But we haven't really traveled in the same circle much. Did Olivia really tell him the things we talked about last week? Suddenly I hope not.

  I glance at the empty street outside and then down at my watch. “Looks like the parade's over. I'm surprised your sister hasn't called yet.”

  A frown creases his forehead. “Yeah, me too.”

  And just as he says this, I experience one of those flashes and in the same instant I see a little red-haired girl wearing a purple majorette outfit, and she's crying.

  “Are you okay?” he asks me.

  I blink then nod, still trying to take in what I just witnessed. I feel certain that it was Katie but equally certain that I can't just blurt that information out. Like how crazy would that sound?

  “I think we should go look for your sister.” I suddenly stand up and grab my coat, and without waiting for him, I press through the crowded room, making my way for the door.

  “Hey, wait,” he calls, but I keep going.

  As I walk down the congested sidewalk, I try to remember what else I saw just now. What was it that Katie was standing in front of? But it seemed like it was just some trees. Ghostlike white tree trunks. And here we are in the middle of town where the only trees are the cone-shaped evergreens planted in the big pots on each corner. Then it hits me—it had to be the birch trees at the city park.

  “Where are you going?” asks Conrad.

  “To the park.”

  “Why?”

  “Isn't that where you're supposed to pick up the kids after the parade?” I hope that this might somehow make sense. Or at least sounds believable. Although I know it must sound nuts.

  “I don't know…”

  “Well, I do. My mom works for the park district, and I'm sure that's where Katie is right now.” Okay, even nuttier. But I don't have time to worry about this. I know that Katie needs us—now. 3

  Im going to call her.” Conrad opens his cell phone. But as he dials, he keeps pace with me. And I continue walking as fast as I can.

  I turn and glance at him, wondering if Katie is going to answer the phone. If she's going to say that she's perfectly fine and waiting for him to come get her on the other end of town. Even so, I keep walking toward the park.

  “The phone's turned off,” he tells me.

  Finally we're at the city park, which is mostly deserted, but there standing right in front of those very birch trees is the same little red-haired girl with tears running down both cheeks.

  “Katie!” Conrad jogs over and picks her up, wrapping his coat around her. “What are you doing here?”

  “I got lost.” Then she buries her head into his shoulder and cries even harder. I'm standing by the two of them now, not sure of what I should do. Maybe just pull a vanishing act and hope that he forgets my involvement in this.

  “Katie?” he says in a gentle voice, “why didn't you just call me on Mom's phone like we'd planned?”

  “I lost Mom's phone!” Now she cries even harder. “It was clipped to my boot, just like you told me. It must've come off when we were marching. Mom's going to be so mad at me.”

  “It's okay, Katie,” he says in a soothing tone. “Mom won't be mad. She'll be glad that you're okay. How'd you get lost anyway?”

  “I was trying to find Mom's phone. I thought I would go back and see if it was in the street, and then I couldn't find Claudia or the other girls, and I didn't know which way to go. And I'm not supposed to talk to strangers.” She's starting to cry again.

  “I better go,” I say quietly glancing over my shoulder like I have someplace I should be right now.

  “Need a lift?” he offers with an apologetic smile.

  I consider this. “Well, sort of…”

  “My car's parked over by The Pet Place.”

  Conrad continues to carry Katie as we walk about six blocks to The Pet Place. By the time we get there, she seems mostly calmed down, but she's still worried about losing her mom's phone.

  “We should go look for it, Conrad,” she tells him as he sets her down beside an odd-looking older car that's the color of a ripe tangerine.

  He frowns as he opens the passenger door and pulls the front seat forward so she can climb into the back. “I don't think we can find it, Katie. Maybe someone else will. We'll try calling Mom's number again later to see if it's been turned in somewhere. Don't worry. Just buckle your seat belt and wrap up in that blanket before you catch pneumonia.”

  Then he flops the front seat back into place for me. “Sorry about all this.”

  “You don't need to be sorry about anything,” I tell him.”Just be glad you found her.”

  He nods then peers at me curiously. “But how did you know she was in the park?” 3

  I shrug, imitating his surprised expression. “Just a weird hunch, I guess.”

  I get into the car, and as Conrad walks around, Katie asks, “Who are you anyway?”

  I turn around and smile at her. “Sorry, Katie. We didn't really meet, did we? I'm Samantha.”

  “Are you Conrad's girlfriend?” she asks in a slightly teasing tone as Conrad gets in.

  I laugh. “No. We're just friends.”

  “Samantha helped me to find you,” he tells her as he starts the car.

  “How?” asks Katie.

  “I just had a feeling—I think it was a God-thing.” And before anyone can question me further, I change the subject. “So, other than getting lost, how was the parade today?”

  “It was okay.”

  “Did you drop your baton at all?” I ask.

  “Yeah…but only twice.”

  “So, what do
you do when that happens?”

  “You pick it up,” she says in this “duh” voice.

  I laugh. “Yeah, well, that makes sense. But is it hard to get back into formation with the other girls after you pick it up? And do you feel embarrassed for dropping it?”

  “Well, Claudia—that's our coach—says not to feel bad. She says that everyone drops the baton sometimes. The thing is to just get back in line and keep going. And not to think about it. I mean, dropping the baton.”

  “Claudia sounds really smart,” I tell her.

  “I guess…” She lets out a loud sigh. “And besides Mary Grace dropped her baton way more than me. She dropped it about a hundred times.”

  The old comparison game.” Conrad winks at me. “Starts a lot younger than you'd think, huh?”

  Then I tell him where I live, and the car gets quiet. I'm worried that he might still'be wondering how I knew where to find his sister. “What kind of car is this anyway?” I ask, hoping to keep us focused in a different direction.

  He laughs. “You really want to know?”

  “Yeah. I don't think I've ever seen one like it. What is it called anyway?”

  “It's a Gremlin.”

  “Really? That's what it's called? A Gremlin?”

  “Yep. A 1976 Gremlin, made by American Motors. My mom talked my dad into getting it for her a couple years ago. She used to have one just like it back when she was my age. She said she was going to drive it herself, but then she decided it wasn't quite as comfy as her Acura.”

  “So you got it?”

  “Yeah. My dad doesn't want to sell it unless he can get what he paid back for it.” He laughs. “Like that's going to happen in this century.”

  “Well, I think it's kind of cool. And it even goes with your hair.”

  Now he laughs even harder. “Yeah, figures you would notice that.”

  Then we're at my house, and I thank Conrad for the ride and tell Katie good-bye and that I hope they find her mom's phone. I get out, but I've only taken a few steps away from the car when I realize that Conrad is right 5” behind me. Suddenly I'm worried that he's going to ask me about finding Katie again, and how did I know she was lost, and how did I know where to find her. Maybe he'll even be like my old neighbor after I found his guinea pig; maybe Conrad will accuse me of setting this whole thing up just to get his attention. I brace myself.