Read Girls Only! Online

Authors: Beverly Lewis

Girls Only! (7 page)

“Something very important,” he repeated.

She ran down the steps to the closet, grabbed her jacket, and flew out the door. The light was fading quickly as she rushed down the street. Jenna’s house was only two streets away.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the lemon cake. Grandma would soon have it iced with smooth and rich chocolate icing. And what about the French vanilla ice cream she’d discovered in the freezer? What was Grandma planning?

Dad had let something slip about Grandma going shopping. Grandma Hudson was one woman who literally despised the national pastime. She stayed as far away from the mall scene as possible. Except, of course, in the wee hours of the morning, during Livvy’s skating sessions at the tiny mall. In fact, she scarcely went anywhere except to the grocery store, church, and the post office.

Livvy just didn’t get it. She worked her brain—hard. What
was
so special about today?

Follow the Dream

Chapter Twelve

Jenna’s front door was propped open slightly. Livvy wondered if Jen expected her to walk in without knocking. “Anybody home?” she called, then pushed the door open cautiously.

Jenna met her with a broad grin, coming into the living room. She offered to take Livvy’s jacket, then hung it up. “I’m thrilled you could come.” She grabbed Livvy’s hand, and they ran off to Jenna’s attic retreat.

Every time Livvy visited, she was in awe of her friend’s room, tucked under the eaves—away from everything. “I wish my grandma could see this pink carpet,” she said, leaning on the barre. “It’s so bright and cheerful. It would do her good.”

“Almost too bright, don’t you think?” Jen was still smiling.

“That’s what you said about our locker . . . but—”

“No, don’t worry. I’m not ripping the carpet out of my bedroom, too!”

Livvy perched herself on the barre, leaning back against the mirror. She thought of Kevin Bock just then. She didn’t know why, but the very special moment drifted back. His adorable smile, his cute knit hat . . .

“Hey, Livvy. You’re daydreaming.” Jenna was standing in front of her face, waving her petite hands.

“Uh, sorry.”

Jenna handed her a bunch of papers. “Here’s the script. I’m not sure, but it might be too long. I think it’s pretty clean, though.”

“Clean?”

“You know, correct grammar . . . spelling. Stuff like that.”

“Oh.”

Jenna was laughing. “What did you think I meant?”

“Nothing,” she said, getting down off the barre. “Where should I stand to do this? Or do you want me to sit?”

Jenna assured her that she didn’t have to act it out. “Just sit somewhere comfortable and read it to me. A little expression would be cool.”

“Sure, I can do that.” She sat on the high four-poster bed. Sasha promptly came and curled up next to her. “Hello, kitty,” she said. “Are you making a cameo appearance anywhere in this play?”

“Read and you’ll find out,” said Jenna, planting herself on a giant black beanbag.

Livvy began to read. It began with Mary, in the town of Bethany. She anointed and wiped Jesus’ feet with her long hair. The writing was exceptionally beautiful. Jenna’s words seemed to make the story come to life.

Livvy read on, discovering that she actually wanted to read with even more expression. She could almost see the costumes, the sets, everything. Wow, she could just imagine herself, Heather, and Jenna acting out the parts of the Bible women. She could hardly wait to start rehearsing!

Jesus’ ride into Jerusalem, before His crucifixion, was the spot where Jenna’s cat was to make her appearance.

Jenna explained. “I thought a cat might’ve been in the crowd when they were waving the palm branches.”

“Could’ve been. I don’t see why not.” She reached over and petted Sasha. “What do you think of that? You’re going to be a biblical cat for one day.”

The comment didn’t seem to phase Sasha. Livvy wondered how Jen was going to get her cat to cooperate, but she didn’t inquire. She continued reading.

Several times, Jen stopped her and scurried across the room, red pencil in hand. “Hold on a minute,” she said. “That’s dull.”

Once, the dialogue sounded too modern for Bible times. “That’s too much like new-millennium lingo,” Jenna said. “Scratch that line.”

Livvy read on. At last, she came to the ending. The stone covering the garden tomb had been rolled away. Jesus was gone—resurrected by God himself!

She could hardly read the finale, it was so exciting. And super wonderful. Looking across the room at Jenna, she said, “I didn’t know you could write like this.”

“Well, we were pen pals . . . don’t you remember my letters?” Jen was laughing now, coming over to sit on the bed.

“Oh sure, they were always fantastic,” Livvy agreed. “I didn’t mean they weren’t. But this . . .” She looked down at the stack of pages in her lap. “This play is going to be really great.”

“Too bad Manda has to go to Kansas,” Jen said.

Livvy straightened the pages, then handed them back to Jenna. “She must be close to her grandparents.”

“I think you’re right,” Jen said.

Livvy held her breath, worried that Jenna might ask about the situation with Grandma Hudson. When she didn’t, Livvy asked, “When can we start practicing?”

“Is it actually ready? What about rewrites?”

She smiled at her friend. “You’re starting to sound like our English teacher.”

Jenna crossed her eyes. “She’d probably make me edit and proofread it ten more times. At least.”

“I have a feeling you’ve already done that.”

Jenna was modest about her play. “Believe it or not, I prayed before I wrote a single word.”

“I’m not surprised. It shows.” Livvy meant it.

At supper, Jenna’s mother served a Korean rice dish to her husband and Jenna. She offered an American dish—chicken-fried steak and mashed potatoes—to Livvy.

“Oh, Mrs. Song, you didn’t have to make something special just for me.”

Jenna’s mother, petite and pretty, shook her head. “Not a problem. I always like to make American food for you . . . or anybody who comes for dinner.”

Livvy thanked her. “I’ll be happy to eat whatever you make.” Mrs. Song’s words reminded her of Grandma Hudson’s admonition several nights before. But she refused to think about her grandmother just now.

Mrs. Song served her a hearty portion of meat. Of course, Livvy was fine with it. Still, she wished her friend’s mother hadn’t gone to so much trouble, especially with Jonathan sitting in his high chair across the table. His baby spoon was poised in his chubby hand. Mrs. Song had more important things to do than cook up
two
separate meals!

“Let’s give thanks, shall we?” Jenna’s father said, bowing his head.

Livvy was glad to have friends like Reverend and Mrs. Song and their daughter, Jenna. The Korean family had been so kind to her and her father when they moved here. They’d invited them for a Saturday evening supper, complete with candlelight, just to welcome them to the community. It was easy to understand why Jenna’s father’s church was one of the fastest-growing ethnic churches in the area.

Pushing away worrisome thoughts, Livvy picked up her fork. She had come to help Jenna with her fantastic Passion play tonight. Nothing more. It wasn’t that she was avoiding Grandma Hudson or whatever was planned at home. No, Livvy wouldn’t let those kinds of thoughts spoil her supper at the Songs’ home. She was determined not to.

Somehow, though, they inched . . . crept into her mind, especially during dessert. Mrs. Song had baked a cake. Chocolate with creamy butterscotch icing. Her ongoing frustration with Grandma and with the preparations for some sort of celebration seemed to mix together in her head. It was like performing a flying camel to a death drop. Only out of control.

Everything started to spin around her.

Follow the Dream

Chapter Thirteen

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Jenna kept asking in the backseat as her father drove Livvy home.

“I’m fine,” Livvy assured her.

“Let me walk you up to the door, at least,” Jenna persisted.

“I can make it.”

“But you said you were dizzy.”

Livvy thanked Reverend Song, who sat quietly behind the steering wheel. Then, to Jenna, she said, “I love the play you wrote. It’s super.”

“Call me later, okay?” Jenna asked, her eyes blinking too fast.

Livvy waved to them as they pulled away from the curb. Then, taking a deep breath, she hurried up the steps to her house.

Inside the house, the living room lights were dim. She headed to the closet to hang up her jacket. She hoped Grandma wouldn’t come rushing up to her just now. She felt horribly weak. No, she felt ashamed.

She needed time. . . .

A few minutes later, Dad appeared in the doorway. “I’m glad you remembered,” he said.

“Remembered?” She paused a moment. “About coming home for dessert?” She hardly felt well enough to eat anything more.

“Your grandmother has gone to a lot of work,” Dad said, his arms crossed.

“Did you ever find out what’s going on?”

He smiled then, a full-mouthed grin. She was nearly shocked to see it. How long had it been? “I think you’ll be very pleased, honey,” he said.


I
will?”

He nodded, putting his arm around her shoulders. “I’d forgotten how important this day is to us.”

She was confused by the charade. “What’s so special about today, Dad?”

They walked the few steps to the dining room. Candlelight cast a golden glow on the wallpaper, the buffet, on everything. A centerpiece basket of yellow and white roses surprised her even more.

“I’ll let your grandmother explain,” Dad said, pulling out her dining room chair.

He was treating her like a princess.

Seated next to her father, Livvy folded her hands in her lap. What was going on?

Her dad would only smile. Nothing more.

Soon enough, Grandma came in from the kitchen, carrying a beautiful two-layer cake. It was iced with rich, dark chocolate, just as she’d imagined. And there were candles on top.

“This isn’t what you think,” Grandma said. “We’re not having a belated birthday party.”

“Must be an
un
-birthday,” Dad joked.

Grandma lit the candles, counting each one. Eight in all. “For each of the years since that first spring day,” Grandma said, eyes bright.

Livvy wondered what day Grandma meant. But she didn’t speak.

“Eight years ago today, you were nearly four years old. Your mother took you by the hand to your first skating lesson,” Grandma said. “I happen to know it was the first day of spring.” She held up a letter. “It’s all right here.”

This was so incredible. Livvy could hardly wait to hear more.

“I would like to read your mother’s letter, written on that special day,” Grandma said, looking squarely across the table.

Nodding, Livvy reached for her father’s hand. She held on tight, hoping she wouldn’t cry.

“Your mother’s letter was written to me,” Grandma said, beginning to read.

Dear Beatrice,

Today I did the most exciting thing for my little girl. I have felt for quite some time that our Livvy has an inclination toward athletics. She pretends to spin and jump, as though she’s skating on ice . . . hours at a time. I’ve talked to several skating instructors. Each of them cautioned me: “Three years old is a bit young to be taken too seriously.”

But I couldn’t ignore what I saw in dear little Livvy. I could be wrong, but I don’t think so. I believe our daughter is a natural-born athlete.

Well, I suppose we will find out sooner or later. Because, you see, I signed her up for a Wee Beginners skating group in Riverdale today. It’s for preschoolers, and Livvy’s the tiniest of all the children. Somehow, I wanted to mark the day—make it special. So I baked a lemon cake with chocolate icing for supper tonight. Livvy and her daddy were delighted. And I took pictures to put in our family scrapbook.

Maybe someday we’ll look back on this moment and realize it was the right thing to do. You see, I believe in Livvy’s love for skating, even as young as she is. And she took to the ice like a trooper. Her mouth was working hard and her arms flying around to keep her balance. I cried for joy, watching her.

You probably think I’m an overenthusiastic mother, so I’ll stop here. Just wanted you and Dad to know.

We love you, Bea. Take care.

Grandma looked up from the letter. “Olivia Kay, do you understand how important this day really is?”

Livvy couldn’t speak. She knew if she tried, it would come out all squeaky. And she would probably boo-hoo.

Thank goodness, Dad spoke up. “I guess Livvy and I had long forgotten. Right, kiddo?” He winked at her.

Nodding, Livvy tried to force a smile. She really wasn’t sad at all. It was just that her mouth wouldn’t cooperate at the moment.

“I think we should hunt down that scrapbook—the one your mother made. Let’s have a look at it tonight.”

Grandma was nodding. “I should say so.”

Livvy excused herself to blow her nose. She closed the bathroom door behind her and leaned against it.

What kind of person am I?
she thought.

Going to the sink, she washed her face, patting it dry as she stared at the mirror.

I’ve resented Grandma so much. . . . Why?

In that moment of reflection, she thought she knew. The truth hit her squarely between the eyes. She was angry at Grandma for trying too hard. And all these months, Livvy had been miserably mistaken. Grandma wasn’t trying to take Mom’s place at all. Thanks to an amazing letter, things were starting to make some sense. Finally!

“Have a piece of cake,” Grandma said when Livvy returned to the dining room.

“Thanks, Grandma. What a super surprise.”

“A delicious one, too,” Dad said, beaming at both his mother and his daughter.

Livvy decided right then that she would share her heart with her grandmother. But it would have to be in private. A heart-to-heart talk was definitely in order. But first, her favorite cake and ice cream awaited. Made by the world’s best grandmother!

She could almost hear it now. Jenna, especially, would be thrilled to pieces. But before Livvy spent a single minute on the phone with Jen, she had
two
very important things to do!

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