I certainly wasn't going to tell Grady
that
little nugget. But all my stories were kind of like that, so I decided to stick to the facts. "I've got three sisters and a brother," I said.
"Older or younger?"
"All older. My sisters are all out of school, but my brother is a senior."
"Who's your brother? I might know him."
"Joe Anderson."
"Joey?"
"Yeah, but he likes to be called Joe," I said. "Do you know him very well?"
"No, we don't hang out or anything. But he's in my calculus class, and we've had a few other classes together over the years. He's really smart."
"Is he really?"
Grady adjusted his grip on the wheel, his hands at ten and two. His long fingers kneaded the soft leather cover. "Yeah. You didn't know?"
"My family's not that close."
"Do they give you a hard time because of your faith?"
It seemed like we were driving really slow. I glanced at the speedometer, then looked out the window at the trees and houses rolling by at exactly thirty miles an hour. Grady certainly knew how to follow the rules. "No. It's nothing like that. We're just different people I guess."
"Well, I'm glad to hear that. A lot of Christians don't have the support of their families. I'm really lucky to have my dad."
"What about your mom?"
"My mom and dad got divorced when I was a baby, and then she died when I was two. I don't remember her, but my dad says she loved me a lot."
"I'm really sorry." As freaky as I found the whole 'obsessed with Jesus' thing, I had to admit that Grady seemed like a pretty nice guy.
"It's okay. I know she's smiling down on me from heaven."
I wanted to agree with him, because it seemed like the nice thing to do, but I was afraid it would sound hollow and fake, since I didn't really believe it myself. So instead of offering him an empty platitude, I just smiled quietly at him. He didn't seem to mind.
We turned down the driveway of a nondescript church, parked, and walked inside. The interior of the church felt kind of run down, but there was a buzz coming from the big room to the left. What was that called? Where the pews were and everything? I couldn't remember, but I was sure there was a name for that room. The rectory? The pulpit? It wasn't coming to me.
"Come on in and meet everybody," Grady said. He took my hand to lead me into whatever that big room was called. His long, warm fingers felt surprisingly nice wrapped around mine.
About thirty other teenagers milled around, chatting and laughing. I didn't recognize any of them, but Grady assured me that they all went to our high school. Since the church was on the Hilltop side of town, I assumed a lot of the kids must have gone there, which would explain why I didn't recognize any of them. No one here would blink when Grady introduced me as Mary. I was about to breathe a huge sigh of relief when Grady burst my bubble. "Oh look, some of your friends from the squad are here."
I turned around, and the floor fell out of my stomach. Standing in the doorway were Amy Yates and her henchmen.
Grady dropped me off at home right around six. He gave my hand a squeeze as I moved to get out of the car. "Are you still upset?" he asked.
"Me? No. But you'd better get out of here quick before your car soaks up too much tacky from my yard."
Grady caught my wrist. "Don't say things like that. I don't care what kind of house you live in or how much money your parents make. I like you, Mary. For
you.
"
God, he was so
nice
.
"Will I see you again?" he asked.
"Of course. You know where to find me."
"No, I mean, well, you know what I mean. Will you come back to youth group again sometime? We meet every Monday and Wednesday."
"Oh." Of course I'd known what he meant, I just hadn't felt like answering that question. "I don't know, Grady. Some of the people there
…
" My mind searched frantically for something to say that wouldn't sound totally lame. I had nothing.
Grady helped me out. "I should have taken better care of you, I should have introduced you to some other people. I just thought you'd be happiest hanging out with the cheerleaders. I should have known better. Not everybody's there for Jesus. For a lot of people it's nothing but a social thing. I hate that. I'm sorry it affected you so much."
"Oh, Grady." He'd thrown me the lifeline, I might as well go ahead and take it, but I didn't have to be a total liar. "I just don't feel comfortable discussing my beliefs with any of the people there tonight." Damn right. If I told them I was an atheist who knows what they'd do?
Grady's face fell and he released my wrist.
I felt terrible. "We can still be friends, right?" I said hopefully. I couldn't believe it, but Jesus freak or not, I liked Grady.
"Yes. Of course. And I'll work on the group Mary. I'll make it something we both could be proud of."
Erg. This was headed off in entirely the wrong direction. "I'd better go."
"Goodnight Mary."
As soon as I walked in the door, my eyes shot over to my mom's desk. No one there. I threw my backpack in the corner of the room and loaded instant messaging on my mom's computer. There was a little ball icon next to Kaia's name. I clicked on her and typed furiously.
"YOU ARE AN EVIL BITCH"
Seconds later, her reply popped up. "Baby forgive me for I have sinned."
"I WILL DESTROY YOU"
"Are you going to smite me?"
"Dammit Kaia," I typed back, "do you know who was there?"
I waited a few seconds for a reply, but when one didn't pop up immediately, I started typing again. "Amy Yates. And all of her backup dancers."
She responded immediately. "Oh shit. I really am sorry. I had no idea."
I'd been hunched over the keyboard, typing like a monkey on crank. Now I sank into my mom's swivel desk chair. "Grady thinks I had a bad time because the group's not pious enough," I typed.
Kaia sent back a smug looking emoticon with a halo over its head. I started to type the sordid details when the back door smacked open and my mom came in, freezing when she saw me at her desk. I quickly X'd out of the instant messenger, losing my story in progress.
My mother's nostrils flared. "What are you doing? Get off my computer."
"I have to check my email."
"I'm sure you do, now that you're Miss Popular. Your dance card must be filling right up. Move it."
I went to pull at my hair self-consciously but there was nothing there, it was still in the tight ponytail. I removed the hair band and let it fall down over my shoulders. Oh my god, my scalp ached, but I felt better having some hair to tug on while I talked to my mom. "It's not about cheerleading. It's about driver's ed. There's some law that says they have to let me take it, but I'm waiting for them to tell me if it's going to be before or after school."
"Oh." My mom cocked her head and considered it, her need to control me obviously warring with her desire for a chauffeur. She'd never gotten her driver's license. But since none of my siblings had either, she still didn't have anyone but my dad to cart her around, and he was never home. Mom bit her lip. Ultimately her greedy side won. "Fine. Check your email. But make it quick."
My fingers tapped in my webmail username and password. I kept my eyes on my mother to make sure she didn't sneak around to steal my password. But of course she didn't.
She's not that interested.
Mom turned away and started rummaging around in the freezer, probably looking for a wayward pack of cigarettes. She kept them in there to stay fresh, but at the rate she smoked them, there was no way those babies were ever getting stale.
My eyes skimmed over my new messages, weeding out the obvious junk and skipping over the ones I could read in the library tomorrow. There were three from Kaia in response to the email I'd sent her about Derek.
Oh god.
My heart dropped into my feet again, but this time it wasn't Derek's kisses I was remembering, it was the horrible conversation about him that Amy Yates and those bitches had made sure I'd overheard at youth group. I tossed my head.
Shake it off
.
There! A message from tlawson hung out near the bottom of the list. I opened it up and mentally pumped my fist in the air. Evening driver's ed. Every night at six o'clock, starting next week. Perfect.
I shut down my email and rose from my mother's desk. As soon as she heard the chair squeak, she swooped in from the kitchen and started fretting over her desk, repositioning her mouse pad ever so slightly and blowing on her keyboard, as though I'd left some sort of powdery residue behind. She'd toss things wherever and flick crap all over the rest of the house, but her little internet cubby had to be freaking pristine. Whatever. She was cackling to herself over something she saw online as I walked through the family room toward my bedroom.
"Holy hell, what are you wearing?"
Christ. Time for round two
. I stopped and faced Phoebe. "It's my cheerleading uniform," I said defiantly, lifting my chin in the air a notch.
But she surprised me
…
she didn't go on the offense. She tucked a lock of her dishwater blonde hair behind her ear and cocked her head at me. "You're a cheerleader?"
"Yes."
"I didn't know you had it in you."
"Well, I guess I do." I stood with my arms crossed over my chest, resisting the urge to yank on the ends of my hair. "You have an issue with that?"
Phoebe shrugged and looked mildly interested, which, for her, was a big deal. "Hmm. No. That's fine. Just fine," she repeated as I relaxed and continued the short walk across the room. "Hey, Baby?"
"Yeah?"
"I've been meaning to talk to you. I'm getting real sick of Monica's shit."
So, it was time for the annual room flip. Once a year, Phoebe would have a cow over something and Rachel and Monica would trade rooms. Rachel was hardly ever home anymore, but when she was
…
well, maybe it would work better to have Monica in my room this year. Phoebe'd never talked to me about it though. It just happened.
"Um, okay. I guess I'll ask Monica which bed she wants when she moves in." Maybe she'd take the one by the window.
"No, Rachel's a gigantic pain in the ass. I want
you
to move in with
me
."
"Huh?" I put my hand against the wall, not
exactly
to steady myself, but a good stable wall under my hand couldn't hurt matters any. "Me?"
"Yeah, you. You can move your stuff now, just toss Monica's junk in your old room. If you see anything of hers that you want to keep, you might as well take it. I'll back you up."
"Are you serious?"
"She's not home. It's a good time to do it."
I nodded and made my way down the hall. This was too weird, but I wasn't going to make a stink about it. For one thing, Phoebe was at the top of our totem pole and arguing with her was pointless. For another, her room was way bigger than the one I shared with Rachel. And for
another
…
well. I didn't need to think about that other reason I didn’t want to share a room with Rachel. The first reason alone was enough. But I wasn't going to keep anything of Monica's. Had Phoebe even looked at Monica? She was half a foot shorter than me and outweighed me by at least fifty pounds.
I had hardly anything of value, so I went to Phoebe's room first and took Monica's stuff out of her side of the closet. I put it in my old closet and transferred the five cheer uniforms that had been hanging there to my new room. I looked at them hanging up, then took them off the rod and placed them carefully under the bed. For some reason, that felt safer, and I'd learned to trust my instincts in this house. Rachel's clothes filled all the dresser drawers in my old room, so I'd kept my stuff in a beat up plastic laundry basket, which I moved to the foot of my new bed. I stared at the jeans and t-shirts for a couple seconds, then threw caution to the wind and hung everything up. I changed into a long t-shirt and shorts, and put the cheer uniform I'd worn today under the bed too. Next I stripped both beds, old and new, and traded the sheets. Beyond that, there wasn't much else to do. I had no electronics, no CDs. The couple of books I scored here and there always vanished within days of bringing them home. I did have a little bit of makeup. I put that under the bed along with my cheer uniforms.
The work was good for me; it gave me something to think about besides what I'd heard at Grady's youth group, but I finished quickly and before I knew it I was sitting cross legged on my new bed, staring at a tattered old poster of Vin Diesel on the wall. He had a tattoo of three X's on the back of his neck, and of course that reminded me of Derek and the conversation about him that was now burned into my memory.
Dammit
. Amy Yates and her friends had stuck to me like glue at first, not talking to me, but making snide remarks that I couldn't help but overhear. The last thing I needed was to get into a shouting match and have Grady come running over to see what was going on with sweet little "Mary," so I kept my mouth shut.
So I'm sure, to Grady, it looked like the cheerleaders were all hanging out together, all BFF's. He kept catching my eye and waving or smiling at me, clearly believing I was having a great time. I think Amy and her friends must have noticed my connection to Grady too, because eventually they backed off. And that's when things got real crappy. Some group leader had put us to work assembling school supplies for a kids' charity thing. I was putting pencils and crayons in plastic bags and handing them down the line while the other girls talked. I tried to tune them out, but when Amy mentioned her boyfriend's name, my ears pricked up. Kaia's story was still so fresh in my mind.
"Chase's parents are out of town this weekend. He's going to take the boat out on Horseshoe Lake. You want to come Ashley?" Amy didn't make any effort to lower her voice this time, since her statement didn't include the "C" word and it wasn't directed at me.
"Sure!" Ashley chirped. "Can I bring Clint?"