Better Than the Best Plan

by Lauren Morrill

  Mrs. Ford nods. “My son is a wonderful boy, but even I have to admit that he can be a tremendous idiot sometimes.”

  “I already told her, Mom,” Ryan says.

  “Whatever it was, give him a chance to explain, okay? It doesn’t have to be today, or even anytime soon. Just leave the door cracked.”

  “I will,” I tell her. “Thanks.”

  The pink house is coming up on the right, and I point Mrs. Ford toward the open spot in front of the house. She whips the car into it.

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah, this is my best friend’s house,” I say, hoping the first part is still true. I haven’t talked to her in so long, not since our text the night of my date with Ali. I was supposed to call her, and it just got away from me.

  “Okay. Well, I’ll wait to make sure she’s here,” Mrs. Ford says. I can tell she’s trying not to be judgmental about the neighborhood, but she’s nervous to leave me here nonetheless.

  “Thank you again for the ride,” I say. “I know it probably wasn’t how you were planning on spending your Saturday.”

  She smiles. “I’m happy to help.”

  I give her a final, tight smile, tell Ryan good-bye, and climb out of the car. I try not to wonder if this is the last time I’m going to see them. If what I heard back at Kris’s house is true, then my decision just got a lot easier.

  I ring the bell and then step back. I hear her footsteps right away. When she opens the door, I can tell I’m the last person she expected to find here. I turn and give Mrs. Ford a wave so she won’t wait, because if Lainey is going to yell at me, maybe even send me away, I don’t want her to see that. She waves back, and then the car slowly pulls away from the curb.

  “Who was that?” Lainey asks.

  “Spencer’s mom,” I say, then realize she probably doesn’t even remember who Spencer is. “The guy who lives next door?”

  She arches an eyebrow at me.

  “It’s a long story,” I tell her.

  “When it’s been this many weeks, they’re all long stories.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, testing the waters. “I really didn’t mean to go that long without seeing you.”

  “Or talking to me?” She cocks her head at me, ready to lay all my crimes at my feet. As well she should. I feel like crap. Like I should.

  “Yeah,” I say. My mouth goes dry as I try to calculate how long it’s been.

  “Three weeks,” she says. She always could read what was going on in my head. “I haven’t heard from you in almost three weeks. Which is pretty damn crappy. And it’s not like before that we were super chatty. I finally stopped texting because I felt like a pathetic stalker. I’m not going to beg you to be my friend, Ritzy.”

  “Lainey? Everything okay?” Ali comes up behind Lainey in the doorway, and my eyes drift down to where his hand has snaked around her waist and is resting on her hip.

  Holy. Crap.

  As soon as he sees me standing on the stoop, his face drops first, then his hand. Then he takes a step away from Lainey, like he can erase what just happened. I glance at Lainey, expecting to see her freaking out or looking nervous or something that indicates that she’s apparently hooked up with my former crush, but she just arches her eyebrow at me.

  “Ali, can you give us a second?” she says to him, and he looks all too happy to disappear back into the house.

  I know I shouldn’t say it, that I have no right, but I can’t stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth. “What the hell, Lainey? You and Ali?”

  She offers nothing but a defiant look.

  “For how long? And how did this happen?”

  “It’s new. Not even two weeks,” she says. “We had that SAT prep class, and then we’ve been spending a lot of time together. Which is more than I can say about you and me.”

  The statement feels like a slap, and now I’m even madder. Lainey, who listened to me talk about Ali for years, who helped orchestrate our first date attempt, is now dating him? This feels so wrong.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She rolls her eyes. “I tried. I texted you. I told you I needed to talk to you. But you were never available. You were always busy with work or your new friends.” She crosses her arms over her chest, her gaze leveled at me hard. “You completely disappeared on me because you were too busy having a fantastic time in your fabulous new life with your amazing new friends. And so forgive me for not sitting around on the hook trying to smooth things over with someone who didn’t even care enough to call me back.”

  I want to look at her, but now I can’t bring myself to pull my eyes away from the ground. My cheeks are hot and red, I’m sure, and I can feel the telltale pinprick in the corner of my eyes that tells me tears could be imminent. I hadn’t meant to be such a bad friend. I really hadn’t.

  “I’m sorry, Lainey,” I say, the shame forcing my voice out at barely above a whisper. “I’m really sorry.”

  “I know you are,” Lainey says. “You should be. I needed you.”

  I don’t say a word.

  “Your life may have moved somewhere else, but I didn’t. And I would have thought you’d know better than that. I would have thought our friendship meant more than that.”

  We stand there on the porch, her in the doorway, me staring at my shoes, for a long time, neither of us saying anything. I came here to talk to her about my mom coming back. To get her advice. I knew she’d listen and not judge me, not like Spencer did. But now I feel like a shit friend just showing up to have her sift through my own personal drama again. She’s always been there for me, but I clearly haven’t been there for her.

  Just when I’m starting to feel desperate, Lainey sighs.

  “Do you need to come in?”

  The smell of Lainey’s house envelops me like a security blanket, a mix of her peachy body lotion and the apple-cinnamon candles her mother loves to burn.

  “Well, Ritzy, isn’t this a surprise! How you doing?” Jana walks into the room in jeans and a T-shirt, her apron over her shoulder. She’s reaching for her purse.

  “I’m all right,” I tell her, thankful my voice is able to hold steady at this moment. “You headed to work?”

  “Sure am,” she says. She holds up her fingers, showing me the narrowest space between them. “I’m this close to being done with job number two. Maybe only another week or so I can quit the diner. And not a moment too soon. I think my feet are about to pack up and find another owner.”

  “That’s great news,” I say, trying to muster the enthusiasm it deserves. Because it is great. Jana’s been working her ass off for months, and I know she wants nothing more than to be home at night with Lainey. I know Lainey wants that, too.

  “Yes, it is,” Jana says. “Now I’ve got to head out. But you make yourself at home, Ritzy. And next time, don’t go so long without coming to see us, okay?” She gives me a look that says she knows what a terrible friend I’ve been.

  I settle onto the couch, ready to fall apart, when Ali appears from the kitchen. He looks so uncomfortable he’s practically vibrating.

  “Hey, so, um, I’m gonna go,” he says, pointing at the front door like we need the visual.

  “Yeah. I’ll call you later?” Lainey says. For the first time, the temperature in her voice rises above frosty, because she’s talking to Ali and not to me.

  Ali gives his trademark crooked grin, the one that used to make my heart explode. And from the smile on Lainey’s face, I can see she knows that feeling. She really likes him. “Later,” he says, then his eyes cut to me. “Uh, good to see you, Ritzy.”

  I pull together my best smile, trying to let them know that I’m not going to freak out. Because I’m not (I don’t think). “You too, Ali,” I say, and then he’s gone, the door slamming behind him.

  Now that we’re alone, Lainey takes a seat next to me on the couch. She looks like she can’t decide between yelling at me or hugging me. Finally, she says, “You look like hell.”

  “I
feel like hell,” I say, and I wait for her to tell me, Good, you should, but when she doesn’t, I let the truth escape. “I don’t know where I belong anymore.”

  And that’s when it all falls apart. I dissolve into tears, the whole thing pouring out. I tell Lainey all about seeing my mom and what I learned. I tell her about my fight with Spencer, and about what I overheard between Kris and Pete.

  “I didn’t know where to go. I know I don’t deserve to be here. But I just, I didn’t—” I break off, sounding as hopeless as I feel. But then Lainey reaches out and pulls me into a hug.

  “I’m still pissed,” she says as she squeezes me tight. “But I’m also still your best friend. Which means I’ll always be giving you hell, but I’ll also always be here for you.”

  I let out a long, slow breath like I’ve been holding it for days. The only thing that breaks us apart is the ringing of Lainey’s phone. She reaches for it, then cocks an eyebrow.

  “Who is it?” I ask.

  She flips her phone around so I can see the screen, showing a picture of me with my head thrown back, singing along to the radio in Barney.

  “It’s you.”

  * * *

  An hour later, Kris is sitting on the sofa in Lainey’s living room. True to her word, Mrs. Ford had gone straight back to Helena and directly to Kris’s house, where she told Kris about where she’d taken me and the state I’d been in on the drive. Kris tried to call me, but found my cell phone ringing on my bedside table where I’d left it to charge. And so she’d used it to find Lainey’s number, and then she did what I didn’t. She called my best friend.

  I think as far as she knew I’d had a fight with Spencer, and that was all. Though I wondered if she suspected, or if she could imagine, that maybe I’d overheard. Because all she said was, “Give me the address. I’m coming over.”

  And forty-five minutes later, here she is, an already-sweating glass of ice water clutched in her hand. Lainey lingers in the doorway for a moment before telling us she’s going to check on some laundry in the basement. As soon as she’s gone, Kris turns to me.

  “We said we were going to be honest with each other. So let’s start now.”

  “Okay,” I say, though I still don’t know where to start.

  “Why did you leave? Without saying anything?” she asks.

  I sigh. So I guess we’re starting there. “Spencer and I had a fight, and so I came back to the house. I don’t think you guys were expecting me, and I heard…” I trail off. She bites her lip and sighs. “I heard Pete say that you guys want to have a baby, and that I’m slowing that down.”

  Her mouth drops open, her eyes wide. There’s a beat of silence, where all I hear is her sharp intake of breath.

  “Oh, Ritzy, that’s not what he meant. It’s not what he meant at all,” she says finally. She places the glass of water down on the floor by her feet and turns to me, pulling a knee up onto the couch. “Pete and I have been trying to start a family for a while. For a few years, actually. And it’s been … difficult. I’m not exactly twenty-five, you know.” She laughs, but I can tell it’s forced. Nothing about this is funny to her.

  “And then I showed up,” I say, filling in the rest of the story.

  “Yes, and then you showed up! And it was wonderful!” she exclaims. When I don’t return her smile, she sighs. “We’d been trying fertility treatments, but they weren’t going well. Just failure after failure, and it was really starting to wear me down. But you showing up again reminded me about all the ways there are to make a family. You reminded me that there isn’t just one way.”

  “But what if I don’t stay?”

  “No matter where you go, you’ll always be part of my family, Ritzy. You can have your mother, and you can have us, too. It doesn’t have to be one or the other.”

  I think I hoped that at some point the decision would be made for me. Maybe part of me was even relieved when I thought overhearing their conversation did that. But now I’m right back where I started.

  “I just don’t know what to do, Kris,” I tell her. “I don’t know where I belong.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The courthouse is exactly the same as I remember it, which is to say, it’s still thoroughly unimpressive. This time is a little different, though. This time my mom is with us.

  We’re sitting on the bench outside the courtroom, waiting for my case to be called. Pete is a little bit down the hall, on his phone. Something about an orientation disaster on campus. Tess is leafing through papers in her file folders, double- and triple-checking that everything is in order.

  And Kris and my mom are chatting, which is weird. They’re having some discussion about various yoga practices, both pretending like they don’t think the other is an alien creature. My mom is actually dressed up for today in a pair of black pants and a flowing yellow tunic top, a black cardigan over the top. She almost looks like someone you might hire to be your life coach, which is good, because she’s gone all in on that venture. Lainey helped her set up a website, uploading the headshot I took of her on my phone.

  “All parties in the matter of Maritza Reed please report to courtroom four,” the voice crackles over the loudspeaker.

  We all jump up like we’ve been electrocuted. I see Kris gesture to Pete down the hall, who quickly hangs up and strides over.

  “Okay, guys, are we ready?” he asks, clapping his hands like we’re about to take the field.

  “Hey, that’s my line,” Tess says with a smile. She hikes her tote bag over her shoulder, and we follow her into the courtroom. Justin Fellows, my appointed lawyer, is already waiting. I take the seat next to him, and Pete, Kris, and Mom file into the row of seats behind him. I’m just about to turn to face the judge when the door to the courtroom opens, and Lainey and her mom slip in. They drop into the row of seats behind Kris, Pete, and Mom, Lainey giving me a big smile and a double thumbs-up.

  “Thanks,” I whisper, and then hear the slam of the gavel.

  The judge does his legalese introduction, all parties in the matter of and blah, blah, blah. I can barely sit still in my chair and have to wedge my hands under my thighs just to keep from tapping them on the table in front of me.

  “Okay, so it appears we’ve reached an arrangement in the guardianship of Maritza Reed?” the judge says when he’s settled in.

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Justin says. “You should have copies of the guardianship agreement signed by all parties.”

  “Yes, yes,” he says, flipping through the pages in the folder in front of him. “So Marybelle Reed, the minor’s mother, will retain parental rights, but has agreed to grant guardianship of the minor to Kristin Stokes and Peter Carmichael.” He glances up over the top of his glasses. “Do I have that correct?”

  I nod, and turn to see the adults behind me nodding as well.

  “Don’t be shy, folks,” he says. “Let’s hear it. Marybelle Reed, you agree to this arrangement?”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Mom says.

  “And Mr. Carmichael and Ms. Stokes, you agree to serve as guardians for Maritza Reed?”

  “Yes!” Kris says, only barely containing her enthusiasm.

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Pete says, and though his response is slightly more controlled, I can hear the smile in his voice.

  “Okay, then. And most importantly, how do you feel about this, Maritza? Does this arrangement sound good to you?”

  “Yes,” I say. “It sounds good to me.”

  It took me a long time to figure out what to do, and even now I wish I could say that I’m sure it’s the right choice. But the judge didn’t ask me if it was right. He just asked me if it sounds good. And that, at least, is true.

  Living in the attic studio of Rose Renee’s roadside palm-reading emporium wasn’t the place for me. There wasn’t space, and it wasn’t even in Southwest’s district, so I’d have to change schools anyway. But the thought of my mom not being my mom anymore, of the state severing her parental rights, was too much. And so Tess ha
d proposed a compromise, which allowed me to stay with Kris and Pete, to call their house home, and instead make my family bigger.

  I turn around to take in my entourage, my family. They’re all smiling, and in that instant, I realize that I am sure it’s the right choice.

  “Okay, then, we’ll be back here in six months to revisit the agreement, at which point the minor will no longer be a minor, so we’ll have less to talk about. But if the Department of Children and Families is in agreement with all parties—” He pauses and looks at Tess, who stands.

  “Yes, Your Honor,” she says.

  “Okay, then, we’ll see you in six months, and congratulations to all parties.” He smiles, then bangs his gavel, already handing off my file to a clerk and opening up the next in his stack.

  EPILOGUE

  Kris pulls a handful of plaid out of the brown paper bag and begins spreading items out on the kitchen table. I step closer and see that they’re skirts. Three of them, all identical navy blue and gray with lines of gold. Then come three long-sleeved button-up shirts with stitching over the breast pocket, and last but definitely not least, a navy-blue blazer with an enormous gold-stitched crest that looks like it’s been stolen off a member of the Lonely Hearts Club Band.

  “Please tell me this isn’t—” I say.

  “Your uniform!”

  I examine the shirts closer and see that the navy stitching reads THE HARBOR SCHOOL over the breast pocket, and the big gold emblem on the blazer has a curly, yet still stately, H in the middle.

  I gulp. “When I agreed to this, I wasn’t factoring in the uniform,” I tell her. A few of the charter schools in my old district made their students wear khaki pants and polo shirts like they’re all at vacation bible school, but as far as I know, none of them have uniforms this extensive. I did not consider the blazer in my decision to enroll in Harbor. Who wears a blazer when it’s over 70 degrees for most of the school year?

  I do, apparently.

  In the end, I’d decided that I wasn’t going to decide. I was lucky enough to have two families. I had two women who were willing to sacrifice to make my life better, even if they had two very different ideas of how to do it. My mom started working through the judge’s permanency plan so that she’d maintain her parental rights. She’d stay my mother, legally. But since the permanency plan takes time, and school is set to start in just under a month, I’ll be staying with Kris for senior year. I’ll be enrolling at the Harbor School, Helena’s private prep school, along with Spencer and Annie. My mom moved in with Rose, who is letting her use the shop as her home base for Awakening by Marybelle Reed, Mom’s life-coaching venture. It turns out the Bodhi Foundation is a little less of a scam than I’d initially thought. She really had learned stuff and gotten some certificates that allow her to start her own business. I was still skeptical that my mom was really qualified to be a life coach, certificates or not, but she seemed to be making a decent go of it. She even scored her first client, an essential oils dealer in the midst of a messy divorce.