Girl Unmoored (7 page)

“Grandma Bramhall?” I leaned into her as she went by. “I’m so sorry.”

She said something, except I couldn’t hear what under the mask.

After she was out the door, the other paramedic and my dad walked past us. My dad looked over at me with his face stone cold. “Stay with Reverend Hunter, Apron. Until I get back.”

Mr. and Mrs. Haffenreffer walked by us next. Mrs. Haffenreffer’s arm was tucked inside Mr. Haffenreffer’s elbow and her eyes were pinched up as much as her mouth now. Mr. Haffenreffer nodded at me, but in a thank-God-you’re-not-
my
-kid kind of way.

“Who’s the bride?” Chad asked way too loudly.

“M,” I answered. I was glad about Grandma Bramhall’s shake, but now I was stuck with Reverend Hunter.

“
Who
?”

“She’s from Brazil.”

Chad just said, “Oh.”

Down at the altar, Nurse Silvia and the other nurse were pulling M up by the elbows. The veil was flipped over her head so you could see her red, crying face. Reverend Hunter said something as he walked by her and headed into his office. After that, all three nurses headed up the aisle toward us.

M hissed at me. If she were a lion, I would have been dinner. Nurse Silvia didn’t look at me, but there wasn’t a speck of brown shine on her lips anymore.

“Whoa,” Chad said trying to shake M’s mood off his arm. “If looks could kill.”

I swallowed. They didn’t know the half of it.

Outside, the siren turned on again. At the altar, M’s red roses were lying on the top step.

“Did your grandmother have a heart attack?” Mike asked.

“Maybe.”

“Do you want us to drive you to the hospital to find out?” he asked. Chad’s face scrunched up next to him.

“That’s okay. Her head’s still shaking. And my dad told me to stay here.”

“You sure?”

I nodded.

“But don’t you, like, go to school?” Chad asked.

“Not when your dad’s getting married,” I mumbled. Mike flashed Chad a look.

“Well, any
who
,” Chad said clapping his hands and heading back up the aisle. “We have work to do, Mikey.”

Mike smelled like soap and Mr. Solo mixed together. “Don’t lift anything heavy,” he warned Chad.

“Okay,
Mom
,” Chad sang back to him.

“That’s
Mother
to you,” he called back.

I looked around the Church of Sadness, wondering where the least amount of tears could be stuck. Mike was watching me. “Did you bring anything to do? Homework or anything?”

I shook my head.

He started to say something but then took my arm instead and hooked it under his. Pressed together like that, the thing in my belly button pinged on again. “Tell you what. Let’s go find the Reverend,” he said, walking me down the aisle.

When we got to the end, Mike let go of my arm and picked up the roses.

“For you,” he said. “I now pronounce you … a kid.”

He handed them to me and I stared into the dark red swirls, which were perfect except for the fact that they were M’s. I looked back up at Mike, and then I was looking at two Jesuses: one standing in front of me, bowing slightly, and the other, on the rug hanging above him.

“Wait here,” Mike said. Then he walked over to Reverend Hunter’s door, knocked, and stepped in.

After he said something, he waved me over and I put down the roses.

Reverend Hunter had changed into black pants and a white shirt, and one of his arms was in the middle of sliding into a black sleeve.

“That’s a terrible story, son. I’m sorry for you both,” he said. “Did they get into your shop?”

“No,” Mike shook his head. “The shop’s okay. But we’re running a little behind.”

Reverend Hunter handed Mike a keychain. “Take all the time you need,” he said.

Mike nodded. “Thanks for the second chance, Reverend. I’ll make sure to lock it this time. Thanks. Thank you.”

Reverend Hunter dipped his chin and finished getting into his coat. “Very good,” he said gathering some papers together. When Mike turned to me, he winked.

“And one more thing, Reverend. I know Apron’s dad told her to stay with you until he got back—”

Reverend Hunter’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh dear,” he said, just noticing me. “I’m due at a meeting in twenty minutes. I guess you can come if you like, Apron. Or I could drop you off at school?”

I looked down. If I showed up at school like this, in the Lilly Pulitzer dress Mrs. Perry gave me for Christmas, Rennie and Jenny Pratt would know I had been lying when I told them I was having my teeth pulled.

Mike was watching me. “Well actually, we were wondering,” he said with his hands on his hips. “If Apron might be able to stay. We could use the help. It’s a big wedding, the Farmington wedding. And her dad’s expecting her to be here anyway. Right, Apron?”

I tried not to smile, but one side of my mouth snuck up there anyway.

“Apron? Did your father ask you to wait here?” Reverend Hunter leaned onto his desk and waited for my answer. I nodded. So he started buttoning his coat. “Fine then.”

“Great,” Mike smiled. “That’s great.”

Reverend Hunter started to leave but when he got up to me, he stopped.

“I’m praying for your grandmother, Apron,” he said, before stepping through the doorway.

Mike smiled at me and was about to shut the door behind us, when we both noticed Chad, struggling with another vase halfway down the aisle. Mike groaned and dropped the key in my hand, “Hold this, would you?” he asked. “He’s like a toddler.” He ran up behind Reverend Hunter, who nodded at Chad while Mike grabbed the vase out of his hands.

I looked down at the brass keychain; a small Jesus on a cross. I couldn’t get away from this guy.

“
Apron
,” Chad scowled. “How’d you get a name like that?”

“My mom,” I told him.

“What’s your brother’s name, Oven?”

Mike nodded his head toward me. “This is the girl I told you about. The one who saw the show last week. Apron, this is Chad. My friend. He’s the choreographer.”

Chad curtsied. We were all at the top of the aisle now.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves another set of hands, Chaddie.” Mike cheered like we were at the Meaningless Bowl instead of in the saddest church on earth.

Chad crinkled his sweaty forehead together. Then he flipped his hand down like he was showing me his engagement ring. “Whatever floats your boat,” he said, heading down to the altar. Except every few steps, he held his arms out like he was waltzing with someone, spinning them around in graceful swirls.

“Follow me, Apron,” Mike said. So I did. All the way outside.

At the statue of Mary, Mike stopped. “You’re saving me, Apron. Chad isn’t feeling too well and we have to rig up this whole place up by three o’clock. And I have to rest the cords for tonight.” He smiled his blueberry eyes at me, tapped on his throat and turned back down the path again.

I picked the Big Gulp up off the statue and carried it down to the trash can. Mike opened the back of the van and inside were bunches of flowers wrapped in newspapers. Dozens and dozens of them, smelling like happiness. “Wow.”

“You can say that again. It’s a big wedding. You ready?”

I stuck both arms out and Mike dropped a dripping bunch into them.

“Fleabanes.”

“Hey, how did you know that?” he asked with his head inside the van.

“I just do,” I said.

After three deliveries of Casablancas, white peonies, and bluebells to Chad at the altar, I stopped to watch him start arranging bouquets. A few times he changed his mind and started over again. And every time I brought him another bunch, the church smelled a little lighter. Then one time, the flowers Mike placed in my arms turned out to be a boom box instead.

“Just remind him to keep it down,” Mike warned. “Tell him to remember what happened the last time.” I nodded, but didn’t say anything at all when Chad plugged the box in and Madonna came out.

At first Chad kept the music low, but every time I walked back in with another load, it seemed to get louder. I kept sneaking looks at him tiptoeing in between piles of flowers, then spinning fast and shaking quick. His blue jeans were so baggy you could see the top of his underwear, and his T-shirt had circles of sweat under each arm. But he moved so smoothly it was contagious. My body kept trying to copy him, one hip going this way and one shoulder going the other, while he danced to “Lucky Star.” Mike smiled when he walked in and saw Chad. But then he said, “All right, Material Girl, tone it down a bit,” looking a little worried instead. He had me fill up a lemonade pitcher with water in the girl’s bathroom and bring it to Chad. “Make him drink it, Apron,” Mike said. I tried, but Chad just pointed to a spot on the floor where I should leave it. He probably knew about the amoebas, too.

Once all the flowers and vases were inside the church, Mike went to park the van.

I hoped that Chad would be too busy dancing to notice me watching him. He was the best dancer I had ever seen, even better than the people on
Dance Fever
. But when I sat down in the first pew, he looked up at me and snapped off the music.

“So Apron, how old
are
you?” he asked out of breath, sitting down on the top step right where M had been bawling her eyes out.

“Thirteen,” I answered, waiting to see if that was good or bad.

Chad raised his eyebrows. “Thirteen, huh? I was thirteen once.”

“Yup,” I said, politely. I was used to Rennie saying dumb things like this, but not a man.

Chad looked at me funny. “What do you think? I was never a
kid
?”

I pulled my shoulders up to my ears. But truthfully, it was kind of hard to imagine.

“Fine, I’ll prove it,” Chad said. “When is the best time to see a dentist?”

“I don’t know.”

“Tooth-hurty!” he said slapping his hands on his knees. “Get it? Tooth—
hurty?”

“Pretty good,” I nodded. I thought about telling him the only people I knew who told jokes were pre-schoolers and old people. But when he closed his eyes I could see he was really sweating.

“Whew,” he said wiping his forehead and lying back on the floor with his arms spread out.

It
was
getting kind of hot. I wished I had kept Chad’s Big Gulp now. I made it through two weeks without water. My dad told me I was being ludicrous. “What are you going to do when your science teacher shows you the bugs on your eyelashes, rip your eyes out?”

“
There are bugs on my eyelashes?
” I yelled at him, my stomach suddenly clawing to get out.

“Sorry, kiddo,” he said calmly, getting back to his newspaper. “I didn’t write the rules.”

Now, I looked at Chad’s pitcher. I had to admit, I had been getting some pretty bad headaches.

“Can I have a sip of that?”

Chad threw a hand up in the air then let it flop back down on his stomach. So I picked it up, squeezed my eyes shut, and had it almost to my mouth when Mike yelled, “No!” so loudly that a wave of amoebas shot out and splashed onto my face. “Don’t drink that, Apron. Come
on,
Chad.”

Chad sat up on his elbows and blinked at me. “Oh yeah, better not.”

“Chad has a bug,” Mike said walking down the aisle in loud clomps and taking the pitcher from me. Mike gave Chad a hard look, but Chad started swiveling his hips again. “Yup. It’s a bug that I got! So let’s dance ’til we drop! Huh, Mikey?” Then he stood.

“Uh-oh,” Mike said. But it was too late. Chad had already turned up the music so loud I kept waiting for the Jesus on the rug to fall off. Mike tipped his head back in a smile, then raised his arms and swung his hips, dancing all the way up the aisle again. Even me in my freckles and Lilly Pulitzer dress couldn’t stop moving something. I thought Mike was leaving, but then he locked the door and turned around with a huge smile. “Lord, let the Reverend remember his robes this time!” he prayed to the ceiling.

And then no one talked and we all got to work. If Mike asked me for lilies, let’s say, he would point his hip out at that pile, and I would twirl around once and hand it to him. And if Chad wanted the asters he might break-dance after I gave it to him. When the vases were full, Mike and I moved on to decorating the pews while Chad rested on the altar.

We started on the back rows, thumbtacking big thick pink bows at the ends of each one. Most of the time, Chad just sat and watched us, sipping a little of the water, but once in a while he might scoot around on his butt, dancing like he didn’t have legs.

And even though I had freckles and red hair and almost killed Grandma Bramhall, I danced like I didn’t. I danced like I didn’t know that Rennie was having Jenny Pratt over for the night, and I danced like my dad wasn’t going to ground me for hitting Grandma Bramhall. And mostly, I danced like it was all a mistake—M wasn’t pregnant and she’d be gone by the Fourth of July.

When we got down to the pew where Mr. and Mrs. Haffenreffer had been sitting, Mike leaned over and picked something up: a long curly piece of white plastic.

I grabbed for my empty wrist so fast I forgot about the thumbtack in my other hand. Mike was already reading
Holly Bramh #08092
out loud when that thumb-tack pierced my skin and I yelled. Mike grabbed my hand, straightened my elbow, and plucked it out. Then he pressed down on top of the bloody spot and screamed, “Chad, turn that crap off!”

My mom’s broken bracelet was still in his other hand when he lifted his finger to take a look, thinking that was where it hurt.

Mike and Chad gave me a ride home in the Scent Appeal van.

“Thanks,” I said when we piled into the front. My wrist was still throbbing a little, but I had a Band-Aid on it now. Chad found it in the glove compartment. My dad hadn’t come back like he said he would, and Mike and Chad had to get going.