Blade Silver: Color Me Scarred (22 page)

"But seriously, am I going home today?"

"That's what we told you, isn't it? Are you packed and ready?"

"Yeah." I frown now. "But the suspense is killing me. And,
please, please, don't tell me my dad is picking me up."

She shakes her head. "I already promised you that would not
happen. And the only reason I didn't tell you anything more was
because I wasn't sure myself."

"You're not sure?"

"Well, I am now. My sister is coming to get you. And she has
some things to talk to you about. She should be here just after lunch.
Can you wait that long?"

I smile. "No problem."

I use my last couple of hours to say good-bye to the girls and to
take one last walk around the grounds. And during this walk I, once
again, ask for God's help. I feel like such a beginner right now. Like
I have so much to learn-about God, about myself, and others. But
I feel like this time I'm going to do things right. And this time will
be different from the others, because God is going to help me get
through this.

I sit down on a sunny bench, my favorite thinking spot, and
look down at my arms. The scars have faded a lot. Especially after
I started using Juanita's "secret formula," which is a lotion she
concocts of aloe vera and coconut oil. And this mixture seems to
help as I get a little tan on my arms, making the scars fade instead
of standing out. Even so, I have a feeling that some of the scars will
be with me always. Maybe they'll be a good reminder. A reminder of
two things: (1) 1 don't need to hurt myself anymore, and (2) by his
stripes (not mine) I am healed.

Ms. BLANCHARD PICKS ME UP AT ONE THIRTY, AND AFTER DOZENS OF HUGS AND
several sweet gifts, including a patchwork scarf knitted by Jessica
(she eventually put her squares together to make lots of scarves for
all her Promise House friends), we are on our way.

"You look wonderful," Ms. Blanchard tells me as she heads for
the highway.

"Thanks. I feel great too." Then I thank her for all she did to
help get me into Promise House.

"I'm so glad I could help," she says. "My heart just went out to
you the first time I saw you sitting outside my office. Of course, I'd
read a bit of your file, enough to know your family was having some
problems, and that you were a good student. Anyway, I think God
just tugged on my heart and I couldn't let you slip through some
crack before school got out."

I take a deep breath now, then slowly exhale. "Nicole said you
have some things to tell me. But mostly I want to know where you
are taking me. Do I have to go back to my dad now?"

"I won't lie to you, Ruth. It's been tricky. As you know, your
mom's a little better, but she's still got a long way to go. And it's pretty
crowded where they're living, but we did get Children's Protective
Services to agree to give Donna temporary custody of Caleb. It'll be reviewed again before school starts."

"Well, that's good. I mean, that it's okay for him to be there for
now',

"Yes. But I had some problems convincing Protective Services
that it wasn't in your best interest to be returned to your previous
home. Without anything on file against your dad-no police reports
or prior convictions-well, it just wasn't going too well."

"Oh." I feel my heart sinking now, a giant lump growing in my
throat. I silently pray.

"But then your letter from Promise House came." She turns and
smiles at me now. "And that changed some things."

"Really?"

"Well, your Grandma Wallace really stepped up to the plate.
She arranged a family meeting with your dad and his brother, and
they all sat down and had a big talk. And, somehow, it was decided
that you should come live with your grandparents. At least for the
summer. Will that work for you?"

I'm nodding now. "Yeah. That would be great."

"And that gives everyone time to figure things out. According
to your other grandma, your mom's mom, they would like to work
something out to get you and Caleb and your mom back together.
Your mom's goal is to get well enough to go back to work and possibly support you kids."

"Really?"

"Yes. But its still a way out. In the meantime, it looks like you'll
be in good hands at your grandparents' home."

I feel a small wave of relief washing over me now. I know everything's not completely settled, and I still have some major obstacles
to face, including my dad. But I think I can handle it. With God, I
can handle it.

As we get closer to town, I start feeling nervous again. I'm
wondering what this is going to be like. I mean, having people know
what I did, that I was a cutter. Will they look down on me? Will
they pity me? What will it be like?

I forced myself to wear a sleeveless shirt today. Partly because
it's like ninety degrees, and partly because I knew it would force me
not to hide my scars. Now I'm not so sure that was the most brilliant
idea. I look down at my arms, at my stripes . . . and then I remind
myself that by his stripes I am healed.

As we turn down the street, I notice several cars parked at
my grandparents' and suddenly get worried. What if something's
wrong? What if they changed their minds? What if my dad's there?
But I don't see his pickup. As we get closer, I see that some of the
cars are familiar, and I see that some people are standing out in
the front yard. And I see a banner kind of sign that says "Welcome
Home, Ruth!"

Mom and Caleb are there. I hug them first. Then I see Abby and
Glen and even Finney and a few other friends from school. And they
hug me too. And while I notice some of my friends glancing down
at my arms, uncomfortable at first, they quickly return to their same
old selves. Then I hug my grandparents and thank them for letting
me stay here, at least for now. I don't ask anyone about my dad. I'm
not ready for that yet.

After I've had a chance to reacquaint myself with everyone,
Glen takes me off to a quiet corner of my grandma's backyard.
"You could've told me, Ruth," he says with a slightly hurt tone. "I
would've understood."

I study his face and his sincerity slightly stuns me. "Really?"

He nods. "I kind of thought there was something going on with
you, I mean, besides your dad. But I just wasn't sure what . . . "

"I'm sorry," I tell him. "It's just that I was really ashamed
of ... well, the whole cutting thing." I held out my arms as part of
my confession. "I was afraid you'd think I was crazy"

He smiles then pulls me into a tight hug. "Hey, we're all a little
crazy."

By the end of the day, I feel tired but good. I imagine it's the way
you'd feel after climbing a mountain. Even better than that, I feel
peaceful. There's a new calmness inside me that still takes me by
surprise. Oh, I'm not stupid. I know that its something that needs to
be maintained. I fully realize that this peace, this calm, this serenity
is a result of me staying connected to God. And just as my commitment not to cut will remain a daily thing, so will my commitment to
him. One day at a time. I think I can handle that.

1. How did you feel when you read the first scene where Ruth
cut herself? Were you repulsed, confused, intrigued? Explain
your feelings.

2. Ruth began cutting shortly after her mom's breakdown. How
might she have handled things differently?

3. Abby was the first one to discover Ruth's "dirty little secret."
How do you think it made Abby feel?

4. How do you think Abby could've been more helpful to Ruth?
What would you do if you had a friend who was a cutter?

5. Have you ever done, or considered doing, any form of self-
hann? Explain.

6. Nicole explains that cutting is an addictive behavior. Do you
have any addictive behaviors? Describe them.

7. Remember how Ruth journaled about bottling her pain? How
do you deal with emotional pain in your own life?

8. If you met Ruth while she was still actively cutting, what
would you have said to her?

9. Do you think Ruth will ever be able to forgive her dad? Why
or why not?

10. What does "by his stripes you are healed" mean to you
personally?

TrueCo ors Book 8

Bitter Rose

Coming in January 2006

How was she supposed to hold her life together
when her family was breaking apart?

LIFE AS I KNEW IT ENDED TODAY. SERIOUSLY, IT'S OVER. Now YOU MAY THINK
I'm just being a drama queen, and it wouldn't be the first time I've
been accused of blowing something way out of proportion. But,
trust me, this is the real deal. It's over.

"What's wrong?" asks my best friend, Claire, when she finally
returns my call like two hours later.

"Everything," I tell her. "My life is over."

"What are you talking about, Maggie?"

"It's my parents."

"Are they fighting again?" Her voice sounds bored now, and
slightly disconnected too, like I can just imagine her filing her nails,
or maybe she's watching her favorite Home Shopping Network
show, or reading her e-mail, or playing a stupid computer game.

"Claire, this is serious."

"Oh, Maggie, your parents are constantly fighting. It'll blow
over in-"

"No, it's not a fight this time. It's over! They are splitting up!"

"Splitting up?" She sounds a little shocked.

Okay, maybe I've got her attention now. "Yes! My mom just
told me. Dad has left."

"No way!"

"Way"

"When did this happen?"

"Last night, apparently. I mean, there I was, going to youth
group and spending the night at your house, just so they could have
some one-on-one time, as my mom put it, and I come home today
to discover that it's over. Dad's gone."

"What happened?"

"I'm not really sure. All Mom would tell me is that he's left and
he's not coming back-" I start choking up now. I cannot believe
my dad stepped out of my life just like that. I mean, he didn't even
have the courtesy to warn me.

"Oh, Maggie, that's too bad. You were one of the few kids I
know who still had her original parents. They actually gave me hope
that love might possibly last forever."

"Apparently not."

"So where did your dad go anyway?"

"He's crashing with a friend for now. But Mom said he's going
to get a place of his own soon."

"Did she say why? Like what actually brought it to this? Besides
the fighting I mean?"

"No, she wouldn't say hardly anything about it. Then we just
got into this huge old fight. I mean, it's clearly all her fault, Claire. She's driven him away with her constant nagging and complaining.
Who could stand to live with that woman? I know I can't! I walked
out on her too."

"So where are you right now?"

"I'm sitting in my car."

"Where?"

"Outside of the mall. I know it's lame, but I didn't know where
else to go."

"Well, come over here. Nobody's home but me anyway."

"Thanks, Claire." We say good-bye and I turn off my cell phone,
worried that Mom might try to call again. She tried twice while I
was waiting for Claire. Fortunately, I have my caller ID and I never
picked up. But she did leave a message-a really pathetic one if you
ask me.