I wilted against the ladder and let out my breath in a long, bottomless sigh. I'd counted on her being there. I blinked through the rain spilling over my face. Mom and Dad must be going insane by now. I picked my way back to the ground, my shoes slipping on each wet rung. Now what?
I stood under the hut and pulled out my phone to call Mom. She picked up before the first ring finished.
"Did you find her?" Her voice was rapid, breathless.
"No, sorry. Not at the park. I'll keep looking."
"Okay." She hung up.
I slumped against the post, and the rusty metal flakes scratched against my cheeks. She was a fifth grader — I should be able to figure out where she went. The icy wind gained intensity, and I pulled my dripping coat closer around my neck. I took a deep breath and stepped back out into the worst of it.
Then in a flash, I knew. I knew exactly where she was.
I ran again, circling back around the park and turning south. I flew down the street, and the rain pelted my face like darts. I was certain I was right. Nervous excitement surged through me. I dashed around a corner and arrived at Bates Elementary. I entered through the chain link fence toward the open playground.
A tiny figure sat in the mud against the trunk of a sprawling, leafless tree. I grabbed my phone and dialed Mom.
"She's here. At Bates."
I hung up, stuffed my phone into my wet pocket, and approached the tree. "Sarah?"
She looked up at me, her eyes huge. She was shaking and her teeth chattered.
"You okay?" I knelt beside her, my knees slipping in the muddy grass. I put my arm around her. "Ready to go home?"
She stared at me and said nothing. Then she nodded.
"Come on." I got up and pulled her to her feet. I wiggled out of my soppy coat and wrapped it around her. The frozen wind cut through my sweatshirt, and I shivered hard.
"Let's go home," I said, gritting my teeth against the cold. Sarah huddled into me, and we started across the field. We hadn't gotten far when Mom and Dad drove up and screeched to a stop on the blacktop outside the fence.
Mom bolted from the car and ran to meet us. "Sarah!" she cried.
Sarah grabbed onto me like she'd never let go. Mom peeled her away and hugged her fiercely. "We were worried sick! What were you thinking?" She leaned back and looked into Sarah's face.
Sarah blinked, the rain bunching up her lashes.
Mom ran her hand through Sarah's wet, tangled hair. She crushed her in another hug. "Doesn't matter now. Come on. Let's go home."
Dad joined us. "Sarah." He reached out to squeeze her arm. He looked at me, and I saw pure relief in his eyes. "Thank you, Emili. Oh, you're drenched. Let's hurry. I called the police, and they know we found her."
We stumbled our way to the car. The heat was blasting inside, but I couldn't stop trembling. I felt cold fingers climbing up my spine, making me shake harder. Mom crawled into the back seat between Sarah and me. Dad shifted into gear and drove us home.
None of us said a word, but I could hear every breath that fogged up the windows.
****
Mom drained the entire hot water tank running Sarah's bath. She fussed around her, finally agreeing to let her rest on my bed after she was out of the tub and wrapped into warm pajamas. I took a shower in cool-ish water. It would've been better not to take one at all. When I got out, I found Sarah in my bed, curled into a lump like an abandoned puppy.
Mom was by my desk, watching Sarah with a tired expression. At first, I thought she might be asleep with her eyes open. But when she saw me come in, she jerked slightly, nodded at me, and left.
I went right to Sarah, lay on the bed, and snuggled against her, pulling my comforter over both of us.
"You okay?" I asked, my nose inches away from her face.
"I shouldn't have left." Her voice was muffled as she talked through her fists.
"We were scared, Sarah. Why'd you go?"
"It'd be better."
"What? You mean without you?" I pulled her hands from her face and held them against my chest.
She nodded, her lashes drooping so her eyes became narrow slits.
"You're wrong, Sarah. Didn't you see how we all wanted you back?"
She closed her eyes, and I kept holding her hands. A few minutes later, we heard Mom and Dad's bedroom door slam shut.
Sarah's eyes popped open. She squirmed to get up and pulled her hands free from mine. "I want to listen."
I nodded. "Okay, but keep quiet."
We crept down the hallway and sat outside the door like we had hundreds of times. It didn't take long.
"Could it get worse?" Mom asked, her voice already shrill.
"I don't see how," was Dad's response.
"I knew it was bad, but, running away? And then sitting like a fool in a puddle of mud with rain pouring down like a flippin' waterfall? Has she lost her mind?"
"Nancy, you're not being fair. She's hurting."
"Aren't we all?" Mom's voice lowered, became calmer. "I know she's hurting. I've tried talking to her. I've tried till I'm blue in the face. She won't talk to me, won't say a blasted word. How can I help her if she won't speak?"
Silence.
Then, "She needs counseling." It was Dad.
"And how are we supposed to pay for it?" Back to shrill.
"Maybe they have counseling at her school."
"Oh, fine. She's trying to make friends, and now she'll be pegged as the crazy girl who needs counseling."
"How ridiculous. What's the matter with you? Where's your mother's heart? You've changed."
"Haven't we all?" Mom's voice was ice.
"Yes, but you… I don't know. What's going on? Something's changed."
"I'm trying to keep this family together. I'm carrying everything, David. Do you hear me? Everything!"
Loud footsteps pounded close to the door. Sarah and I jumped up and raced back to my bedroom. I closed the door behind us. We stood, panting, staring at each other. Sarah's eyes filled with tears.
"I'll talk," she said and put her fist to her mouth.
"It might help." I reached out my arms to her, and she hurtled into me, almost knocking me over. I held her for what seemed like forever.
Chapter Eight
Having no money became a living, breathing monster. Each day it got worse. I needed to get a job. If I could donate my wages and take off some of the pressure, maybe then Mom and Dad wouldn't be so horrid to each other.
Since our Internet was cut, I tried filling out job applications on my phone. What a nightmare. Every time I was halfway through, I'd press the wrong button and everything would become distorted, or part of the form would fall off into cyber space. I needed a computer.
I decided to go to the library. They were open from noon to four on Sunday. The library was a ways from our house, but I didn't want to ask Mom or Dad to drive me. They didn't need to know about my job search — I wasn't going to risk any negative input. Instead, I dug through a pile of rakes, shovels, and old car tires until I found my bicycle. The tire pump was hanging next to the hot water heater, where I'd left it two years earlier.
I squeezed the flat tires, and the rubber felt decent. Hopefully, they'd still hold air. I hooked up the pump and filled the first tire. It plumped up nicely, and I filled the other. I couldn't find my helmet anywhere. Mom would kill me if she saw me riding without it, so I made sure she was in her bedroom when I left.
The cold air slapped my face the minute I took off. It was supposed to drop to twenty degrees, and it felt it. I tried to scrunch my head down into my scarf for protection, but it didn't help. It took fifteen minutes to arrive at the library, and already my fingers and toes were frozen. I placed my bike against the stair railing and took the stairs two at a time. I pushed through the doors, and the warm blast of air gave me instant relief.
I pulled my scarf off and walked toward the teen computer area. I couldn't help but think of the last time I'd been at the library. I'd made secret plans to meet my th
en-boyfriend. We were going to sneak off to his brother's apartment. What a disaster. When Mom caught me, I got majorly grounded. Not to mention the huge fight I had with my boyfriend, plus his brother walking in on us making out. I shuddered. Worst plan ever.
I padded across the dark brown carpet to the computers in the teen area. I turned the corner around a freestanding bookshelf and gasped, jerking back behind the books with my heart whapping against my chest. My hand shook over my mouth.
It was Marc Rounder — the one I'd traded in for the creep who had betrayed me. He wasn't alone; my old friend Jeannie was with him. They sat all romantic-like in front of a computer screen as if cozying up to a blazing fireplace.
Had they seen me? I didn't think so. Maybe I could I slink toward the door and they'd never be the wiser.
I shook my head. I had a mission. I couldn't worry about Marc or Jeannie. I needed a job, and if I didn't get one, my family would sink further and further into a black hole.
I could use a computer in the adult section. The librarians frowned on teens using them, but this was an emergency. I took a deep breath and walked backward around the shelf, but I wasn't fast enough.
"Emili." At Marc's voice, I froze mid-step. He came around the books to find me, his steady blue eyes locking onto mine.
"Hey, Marc."
"We thought it was you."
I shrugged and dropped my shaking hand to my side. "Yeah, it was me."
"What are you doing?"
"Applying for jobs."
Marc raised his eyebrows and seemed relieved to have something to discuss. "Where are you applying?"
"Anywhere. Everywhere."
He ran his hand through his hair. "A job, huh? Well, you might find something at Burger King or Cagnie's Fish Basket."
Standing with Marc and talking about job applications was too weird for words — I was in a parallel universe.
"Yeah, I was going to check all the fast food places. Thanks." My words came out calmly, and I nearly fainted with relief.
"No problem."
We looked at each other, and a terrible silence yawned around us. I used to tell Marc everything. Even after my huge mistake, I could talk to him. It'd been weird, but we'd managed to forge a wobbly friendship again. Now, I wanted to throw myself in his arms and spill the mess of my family. I wanted to tell him how I planned to patch the family back together with the money I'd make from a job.
I missed him with an ache that shook every bone in my body. I missed his steady advice and calm perspective. I missed his peacefulness. I'd only seen him nervous once — right after he got my breakup text. I still felt like a total sleaze over that text. Shame grabbed me again as I remembered my spineless breakup.
My foot rubbed in circles on the carpet, and I couldn't seem to stop it. "You and Jeannie studying?"
"Not exactly. We're messing around."
"You guys together now?"
Marc dropped his eyes, and a faint red colored his face. "Yeah."
"How great. Yes, super." My heart cracked as I pasted on a smile.
He blinked, and I saw confusion clouding his eyes. "You're happy about it?"
"Why wouldn't I be? Jeannie used to be my good friend. She's nice. I'm glad you're together."
"I didn't think you'd take it so well. I never mentioned it when we talked the other day because I thought it'd hurt you."
I spread out my hands palms up and, with sheer will, kept them from trembling. "See, not hurt."
"It's going well. I never realized it before, but she's a lot of fun."
Was Marc so dense? In what world would I want to hear how happy he was with his new girlfriend?
"Would you like to come over and say hi?" he asked.
"I'm kind of in a hurry." I backed away.
"Oh, come on. Jeannie would like to see you." Marc grabbed my wrist and his touch sent memories tumbling through my heart. He led me around the shelf toward the table where Jeannie watched us with a laser eye. I tried to pull away, but we were almost there.
Jeannie's expression was guarded, and I saw the curtains go down over her eyes. "Hey, Emili, how are you?" Her voice was stiff, like sound waves stuck in the stifling air.
"I'm fine. How about you?"
"Peachy. Did Marc tell you we're going cross-country skiing as soon as the park's open?" Her stiffness had vanished, and she rambled on like a battery charged by nerves.
"No."
"Well, we are. Last weekend, we went to Burns to check out an Amish store. Too bad you weren't there. It was so fun. Some of the Amish didn't speak English." She looked up to Marc and fluttered her brown eyes.
Fluttering was not a good look for Jeannie, but her point was obvious. Marc is mine now. Back off.
"I have to go." I spun on my heel and hurried off toward the adult section with a concrete ball of despair in my stomach.
Marc was with Jeannie, and he was happy again. I tried to be glad for him, but it wasn't working. At least I didn't need to wonder anymore — he was over me.
I was lame to hope we'd get back together. How many times had I yearned for him in the last weeks? Well, now I knew. The door was slammed shut.
In the adult section, there were at least ten tables with computers at every seat. Most spots were already taken. At one table, there was a mother balancing a drooling baby on her lap, an old man with a pipe sticking out of his pocket, and a mean-looking woman with black square glasses. They all stared at their screens, mesmerized. I chose the empty chair by the mother.
When I sat, she glanced at me, nodded, and went back to typing. The baby seemed happy enough, though his chin was red and chapped behind a layer of drool. I logged in my library card number. I found the URL for Cagnie's Fish Basket and clicked on the section called "Employment Opportunities." They needed a short order cook — dead end there. I tried Burger King, Wendy's, and every other fast food place in town.
An hour passed, and I had nothing to show for it. I looked out the massive side window and saw a few fluffs of snow wisping to the ground. I was going to suffer on the way home.
I didn't want to leave without filling out a few applications. I'd never get a job at this rate, and I had to get one. How could anything at home get better if I didn't make some money? I slumped in the chair and let my head fall back. I'd never noticed the ceiling in the library before. The wooden planks joined together in the middle, making a type of V-formation like an upside-down boat.
When I focused again on the screen, the words SESSION OVER were flashing. I had forgotten there was an hour limit. Everyone else at my table had left, and I hadn't noticed. I scooted my chair back and stood up. My coat was falling off the edge of the table, and I grabbed it and put it on. I shuddered at the thought of biking home and wrapped my scarf around my neck three times.
The library doors were heavy glass. Before I pushed through them, I saw Marc and Jeannie standing outside. There was no way to avoid seeing them again. What rotten luck.
Jeannie saw me come through. "Oh, Emili, are you leaving too?"
"Yeah."
"We're waiting for Marc's mom. She's taking us home."
Well, isn't that sweet?
"Do you need a ride?" Marc asked, ever the gentleman.
Jeannie gave him the evil eye, and he flinched.
"No, I've got my bike."
"You're riding in this weather?" Jeannie asked, turning all sweet and concerned. "You should hurry. It'll be dark soon."
"Right. See you guys." I hoped I wouldn't.
I threw my leg over my bike and started home. The air cut through my coat as if it were tissue paper. I pressed my lips into a tight line and pedaled as fast as I could. The cold numbed my face, and my eyes dried in the brittle air. I made it home in record time, propped my bike against the side of the house, and dashed inside.
Mom was sitting on the couch. "Where have you been? I didn't even know you were gone."
"I went to the library." I yanked off my gloves and rubbed my hands together. I felt a tingl
e of warmth as the blood started flowing again. Now if I could only warm my heart.
"How'd you get there?" Mom proceeded to drill me.
"I rode my bike."
Her eyebrows raised. "In this weather?"
"It wasn't so bad."
She shook her head. "Yeah, I'll bet. Did you ask your dad if you could go?"
I pulled my coat and scarf off. "No. I didn't want to bother either of you. Thought you might be taking a nap or something."
"Because I'm always taking a nap," she snapped.
I cringed. I'd never get used to my mom spewing sarcasm when she used to scold me for it. I looked away and headed for my bedroom. I expected her to stay with the scolding, but she didn't say anything else.
I pushed open my bedroom door and went to my dresser. My perfume-making supplies were neatly lined up as usual, greeting me like old friends. I picked up the dark bottle of jojoba oil. I could develop a new recipe — making perfume was my go-to stress reliever. I loved to mess around with different scents and carefully record them in my logbook. Now I'd have to experiment like Scrooge — I knew how much all my oils cost.
Another reason to get a job.
I looked at the small dark bottles of perfume I'd already made. I could sell them. If I charged about seven dollars a bottle, I could make a profit. But where? It was the middle of winter. Otherwise, I could have had a yard sale or something. Sometimes there were sales in the middle of the mall, where people set up tables and sold all kinds of things. I could purchase a table and sell my perfume there.
I pulled out my phone and searched for our mall's website. It was easy to find, and there was a button for special events, which I clicked. I was surprised to find quite a few activities, but the only community sale event was right before Easter. Too far off to do me any good.
My door opened, and Sarah walked in. Her hair was rumpled and tangled down her back in a sloppy braid. She looked rested, though, which was a relief.
"Hey, Sarah."
"I tried."
"What do you mean?"
"Mom was in my room, asking me all sorts of questions. I tried to answer her. I opened my mouth and everything, but nothing would come out."
Along Came Jordan Page 8
