She tucked the newspaper between her leg and the side of the chair, then started rolling toward the door. “I think I’ll go take a little rest, Hatch,” she said.
“You all right?” he called out after her.
“Fine,” she said. “I’m just fine.”
“I’ll come check on you in a bit.”
“Thanks, Hatch,” she said, without looking back, certain that if she did, the tears she’d been holding in would come spilling out. And once they got started, there was a very good chance they would never stop.
This is a place of quiet. If you cannot respect this policy, please choose a spot outside the library where your conversation will not be an imposition to those who do respect it.
Wall plaque above Anderson Randall’s favorite reading spot
CHAPTER FIVE
“I should have guessed this is where you’d be hiding.”
Andy Randall glanced over her shoulder to find Kyle Summers looking down at her with something close to aggravation simmering in his green eyes. She pointed at the sign on the wall and put a finger to her lips.
“Then let’s go outside,” he said without bothering to whisper. Andy had known Kyle since pre-school, and his lack of concern for rules the rest of the world made an effort to pay attention to was nothing new.
Today, however, it irked her.
She frowned at him and tapped the page of the book she’d been reading.
“Come on. Five minutes,” Kyle said.
Andy breathed a disgruntled sigh. Second to his disregard for rules was a streak of stubbornness that had allowed him to lead the Timbell Creek Varsity football team to a state championship this past fall, even though they’d started out with a group of guys that easily deserved the mantle of a season-long losing streak.
She marked her place in the book, then slid her chair back and followed Kyle out of the library to the miniature park just down the street, where a bench sat in the shade of a huge oak tree.
“So what is it?” Andy asked, doing a poor job of hiding her irritation.
“You got your period or something?”
Andy beamed him a look and said, “I’m not going to dignify that with an answer.”
“So why’d you bag school today?”
“You actually noticed I wasn’t there?”
“Of course I noticed.”
“Of course.”
He frowned at her sarcasm. “Where were you?”
“I just didn’t want to go.”
Kyle arched a dark eyebrow. “This from Miss Harvard Bound?”
“Did you come all the way over here just to harass me?”
He leaned down, traced a finger in the dirt beneath the bench. “I was worried about you, Andy. That’s all.”
For a moment, Andy felt the sting of guilt. The note of uncertainty in Kyle’s voice reminded her of the old Kyle. The one she’d grown up making mud pies with, the one who’d spent the night at her house on weekends until her daddy said they were too old to be sharing a bed together anymore.
That
Kyle had been happy to spend an entire afternoon swimming in the creek or helping her build one of the doghouses she’d been selling since she was ten, earning them both money for their college savings account.
But the old Kyle didn’t come around much anymore. The new Kyle had him way too busy with cheerleaders and weightlifting and more cheerleaders.
She fixed her gaze on the street just beyond the edge of the library and said, “I had an argument with my dad.”
Kyle leaned back with a look of surprise. “You two?”
“What’s so weird about that?”
“Nothing, except that you both think the other one walks on water.”
“That’s not true,” she said, embarrassed.
“Yeah, it is. What’s the rift between you?”
Andy considered not telling him. But by tomorrow, he’d know anyway. It might as well come from her. She reached in her pocket, pulled out the flyer and unfolded it. Kyle took it and began to read. Once he was done, he shook his head and made a noise that fell somewhere between a laugh and a hoot. “You’re kidding, right?” he said.
She grabbed for the flyer, but tore off the top half, leaving Kyle holding the rest. “What is so ridiculous about me entering this?”
Kyle started to say something, stopped, then tried again. “A date with a duke? Come on, Andy.”
She snatched the other part of the flyer from him and took a step back.
“You’re as bad as he is,” she said. “You don’t think I can win either!”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to,” she said, hating the crack in her voice.
“It just doesn’t seem like something you would do,” he said.
“More like something one of your cheerleader girlfriends would do?”
Kyle ran a hand up the back of his hair, letting it pause in mid-air for a moment before falling to his side. The gesture was classic Kyle, and for just a moment, something inside her caved with regret for the changes between them this past year.
“It sounds like a scam, Andy. Of all people, I can’t imagine you falling for something like that.”
“It’s not a scam. I checked it out.”
“Checked it out where?”
“With the TV network that’s sponsoring it.”
“And they said it’s legit?”
“Yep.”
Kyle folded his arms across his chest, causing the muscles of his biceps to flex at the edge of his shirt. Andy felt a dip in her stomach and looked away.
“Are you mad at me or something?” Kyle asked.
She pasted on a look of indifference. “We don’t see each other often enough anymore for me to have a reason to be mad at you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Every time I call you, Andy, you’ve got some excuse about why you can’t go out. Why couldn’t you go to the movies Sunday?”
She looked down at the ground, scuffed the toe of her running shoe in the dirt. “Too much homework. And besides, wouldn’t Sheila mind you going to the movies with me?’
“She knows we’re—” He stopped there, didn’t finish.
“Knows we’re what?” Andy asked abruptly, meeting his gaze head on.
“Friends.”
“Friends,” she said, doubt in her voice, suddenly needing to hurt him as much as he had hurt her.
Kyle stared at her, confusion clouding his eyes. “At least I thought we were.”
“People change, Kyle. It’s time we both grew up. We’re not little kids anymore.”
“You wanna tell me exactly what you mean by that?”
“Maybe we ought to quit trying to hold onto something that doesn’t work anymore. Admit that we’ve outgrown each other.”
For a moment, something she could almost believe was hurt flashed across his face. He quickly banked it, throwing up a hand and taking a step back. “Hey. If that’s what you want, Andy, you won’t get any argument from me. You used to be somebody I wanted to hang with, but you know what? Now, you’re just a pain in the butt.”
He wheeled then and jogged off, jumping into the old truck he’d left parked across the street. Andy watched as he popped the clutch and took off, tires squealing.
For a minute or more, she stood completely still, afraid to think about what she’d just done.
When the reality of it began to sink in, she sat down on the bench, staring at the half-torn flyer still clutched in her right hand.
She stifled a scream of frustration. She was just so mad at him.
Not that she’d ever bothered to tell him, pride keeping her silent. Instead, she’d acted as if she thought it was great that he was dating the captain of the cheerleading squad, thought it fine that he had a whole new group of friends she had absolutely nothing in common with.
The truth? Sometimes she missed him so much, she actually ached inside. It was like having an arm or leg removed, knowing it was no longer there, and yet phantom pain throbbed in the place where the limb had once been.
But the simple fact was that Kyle had moved on. Outgrown her. Oh, he tried to touch base with her often enough to keep from ditching their friendship altogether, but the last thing Andy wanted to be to Kyle was a noose around his neck. So maybe it was better for them both that she’d cut him loose. He didn’t have to feel obligated to her any longer.
He could get on with his life. And she could get on with hers.
She glanced down at the ripped flyer in her hand. Which was exactly what she intended to do. Starting now.
I’m going to make sure my daughter knows what’s important and what’s not. No cheerleading, no beauty contests.
Just the stuff that will actually make a difference in the real world.
Bobby Jack Randall’s famous last words on the day his divorce became final
CHAPTER SIX
Bobby Jack had his speech all prepared. Along with it, Andy’s favorite supper of veggie burgers sizzled on the grill out back, and crinkle cut French fries baked in the oven.
It was seven o’clock though, and she still wasn’t home. He’d started to get worried about an hour ago. Bobby Jack hated worrying. He’d made a pact with his daughter when she’d turned thirteen and started going more places without him that she would always call if she were going to be late. He’d now tried her cell phone six or seven times, only to have her voice mail pick up.
At seven-fifteen, just as he was considering calling everyone they knew, the front door opened, and Andy breezed in.
He heard Flo jump off the living room sofa and trot out to greet her.
Within a few moments, the two of them appeared in the kitchen doorway.
“Hey,” Andy said, dropping her book bag on the kitchen counter and heading for the refrigerator where she pulled out a bottle of water and guzzled a third before saying, “I’m going up for a shower.”
Bobby Jack stared at her for a few moments, wondering who this teenager with an attitude was and what she’d done with his daughter. “Hold on a minute,” he said to her retreating back.
She turned, arched an eyebrow, took another sip of her water.
“Where’ve you been?” he asked, trying to insert calm into his voice.
“Just doing stuff,” she said, annoyance in her tone.
“I’ve been trying to get you on the phone for over an hour. You said you’d be home at six.”
She glanced at her watch, lifted a shoulder. “Sorry,” she said, breaking the word into two syllables.
“What’s going on, Andy?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the kitchen doorjamb.
“Nothing, Daddy. Look, I’m tired. And I’ve got homework.”
“Supper’s ready.”
She glanced at the plate of veggie burgers on the counter, then looked down at her shoes before saying, “I’m not hungry. I’ll fix a salad or something later.”
“Is this about this morning? Are you angry because I don’t think you should waste your time on that ridiculous—”
She threw up a hand to stop him. “I don’t think it’s ridiculous!” she cried. “Why can’t you be happy that I want to do something different?”
On that, she turned and ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs. A few seconds later, he heard her bedroom door slam.
Flo looked up at him, her big brown eyes worried.
“I know,” he said, rubbing the top of her head. “I need to learn when to keep my mouth shut.”
He stood in the same place for a long time, trying to decide when life as he knew it had turned inside out, so that he recognized virtually nothing of the current landscape.
The phone rang, jangling him out of his state of stunned shock. He picked it up with a distracted hello.
“Let me speak to Andy.”
Priscilla’s highhanded demand tipped Bobby Jack right over the edge. “Why? So you can brainwash her with more of your ideas on how to get ahead in this world?”
“Oh, Bobby Jack, we all know you have the only secret formula available, so why would I bother?”
Her sarcasm ignited him even further. “There’s no secret to where hard work and a good college will get her. Where do you think winning a date with a duke will get her?”
“Maybe she’ll marry him. Don’t they come with country houses and servants?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said on a choked laugh. “This is your idea of parental guidance? No, wait. Forget I said that. You don’t have the slightest idea of what it takes to be a parent. Because you weren’t around for eleven years of her life. Now that you’ve remembered you have a daughter, this is your contribution to her development? Filling her head with garbage?”
“She doesn’t think it’s garbage. You’re the only one who seems to think that. And as a matter of fact, I met the woman who’s going to be choosing the makeover candidate. I’d like to give Andy a few tips before her interview tomorrow.”
Beneath her breezy arrogance, Bobby Jack broke. “Or why don’t you just skip to the part you know best?
Maybe
you could tell her how to get pregnant and force the guy to marry her. There’s some wisdom you could surely pass down to her.”
“You are such an asshole, Bobby Jack.”
“Because I don’t choose to drape our history in pink roses?”
“That’s your version of our history,” Priscilla said, her voice suddenly flat.
“No, that’s the truth.”
With that, Bobby Jack clicked off the phone and tossed it on the kitchen counter. He forced in several deep, calming breaths. Hearing a noise, he walked down the hallway, suddenly sorry he’d let temper bring out accusations he’d long ago shelved and catalogued as irrelevant.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. He reached the bottom of the staircase only to see Andy take off running mid-way up. “Andy!” he called out.
But she ignored him, again slamming the door to her bedroom. This time, he heard the click of the lock. And along with it came the sickening realization that she’d heard every word he’d said.
If you believe in yourself
and
what you’re doing with your life, stand tall
and
don’t make excuses for who you are.
Grier McAllister - Blog at Jane Austen Girl
CHAPTER SEVEN
At just after nine o’clock, Grier climbed into the comfortable king-size bed from which Sebbie had only moved when she took him out for a walk to do his business. She tucked his head against her shoulder and rubbed his side with her thumb, taking pleasure in his soft snoring.