It's a Green Thing (9 page)

Anyway, you could've knocked me over when Uncle Allen told me about Dad's call. And Uncle Allen even offered to help me look. At first I thought it was because he was relieved that I would be more independent and that I wouldn't ask to use his car (which I would never do!). But then I could sort of tell he wanted to go car shopping. Later on, Kim told me that her dad totally loves cars
and shopping for them—and if I didn't include him, it would break his heart. So I told him I really needed his help and I wanted to get something with good fuel economy and low emissions that's environmentally friendly. In other words, I want a green car. And if it's green in color, well, that's cool too.

And Uncle Allen told me he was going to do some research. Okay, I didn't have the heart to tell him that I've already done the research, and I'm leaning toward a Prius, like Dominic, although I don't want to look like a copycat. I figure, hey, let my uncle have some fun. And who knows, maybe he'll come up with something totally new and groovy. Anyway, the plan is to go tomorrow. I cannot wait!

Of course, right after Uncle Allen told me about Dad's phone call and the car, he handed me a yellow envelope. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” he said. That's when I noticed the name on the return address label: Prichart, Marshall, and Stockton, Attorneys at Law. I vaguely wondered if they'd ever noticed that their initials are PMS? That's about how grouchy they made me feel too!

“But don't take it to heart,” my uncle said quickly. “This thing is going to blow over in no time. No judges in their right minds would take this seriously.” He lowered his voice now, like someone was listening, although no one was. “I wouldn't want you to repeat this, but I happen to know that law firm has a bit of a reputation.”

“A reputation?”

“I'm not tossing this around lightly, Maya, but in my office, they are known as ambulance chasers.” He shook his head. “They go after some of the craziest cases. And I don't think they win too many victories in the courtroom.”

“That's good to hear, but it's still pretty unnerving. I mean, I've been through all sorts of crud, but I've never been sued by anyone before. I was surprised to find out that minors could actually be sued.”

“I did a little research on that myself. Minors can be sued, but they aren't allowed to represent themselves in court. If you don't have a lawyer, the court will appoint a guardian ad litem.”

“What's that?”

“Basically an attorney to represent you.”

“Oh…” I was trying to act cool about this, like I wasn't as upset as I was feeling. After all, it's not my uncle's problem.

“Can I ask you something, Maya?”

“What?”

“Does Brooke know anything about your father? I mean, that he's, well, rather famous? And fairly wealthy?”

I considered this. “As a matter of fact, that kind of slipped out. Marissa was the one to bring it up.”

Uncle Allen nodded. “Well, I'm not saying that's why you're being sued, but I've been a newspaper man for years, and you get a sense about these things. And again, don't repeat this, but the word on the street is that Marshall's law firm isn't doing too
well. I've heard they have financial troubles over there. I won't go into details, but this might just be one more desperate move on Marshall's part.”

“That is so low!”

He nodded. “I know. I hate to even mention it. Except that you're my niece, and I'm watching your back. I'll do all I can to help you. I've still got some nosing around to do.”

Okay, that almost made me break into tears right there in the kitchen. It was so sweet of Uncle Allen. But I managed to control myself. I'm really, really trying to act like a grownup about this stupid lawsuit. I don't want to be a burden. But, honestly, sometimes I just want to be a great big baby and bawl my head off.
Grow up, Maya!

So I went to my room and opened the envelope and attempted to decipher the legal papers. I swear lawyers must go to college just to learn how to write things up in such a way that no one can understand what they're saying. It took me three times reading through to finally make sense of it. And my IQ was high enough to get me into the gifted program, even if it was in grade school. Point being, I'm not stupid. But even after I translated the letter into understandable language, it still didn't make complete sense. Not the kind of sense that a sensible person would have anyway.

I'd already e-mailed my dad about my latest challenge, telling him that it might blow over but to be prepared just in case it didn't. So he sent me the name and fax number of his attorney in
L.A. I didn't waste any time getting these papers faxed. And now I'm trying to forget about it. Except that every time I see that big yellow envelope sitting on the bureau, it seems to be yelling, “Hey, look at me. Pay attention to me. I'm big and mean, and I plan to destroy you!” Okay, that's a dramatization, but it's how I feel.

Still, I'm trying to focus on the positives. I am going car shopping with Uncle Allen and Kim tomorrow (she wants in on the act too). And I'll begin my new job on Monday, working for the woman who impressed me the most. Her name is really Jacqueline, but she goes by Jackie. And she was a good friend of my aunt. But she seemed to like me—for myself. So really, other than this lawsuit mess, life is good.

I
feel perfectly miserable today. I know I should feel happy—I got a car yesterday. Okay, I wish I could've found something even better than a Toyota Prius (for greenness), but in this town it was the best we could do. For all I know it's the best we can do anywhere. And really, that's not why I'm bummed. I totally love my new car. It's silver and sweet and gets awesome gas mileage and has low emissions. And thanks to Dad, it's paid for. I mean, totally paid for. I had no idea that he planned to pay for the whole thing. I figured I'd have to chip in. But like I said, I think he's making up for some old things. Oh, well. The only fly in the ointment (as far as my car goes) is that I don't want Dominic to think I'm a copycat. Especially because I've admired the Prius since it first came out. It even won Green Car of the Year not long ago. Still, that is not why I'm miserable.

In fact, I was totally euphoric after we got my car. A car that, I'm happy to say, Uncle Allen and Kim both enthusiastically endorsed. Kim said it was like a miracle because we'd been looking for hours, and none of the lots seemed to have any, and then the last place we went just happened to get one in. It had been
ordered, and then the buyer changed his mind. I say, too bad for that dude. So anyway, I was feeling pretty great as I drove Kim and myself home. We had the satellite radio on, and we were singing along, and I thought this was how life should be!

To make life even sweeter, I offered to drive to youth group last night. Of course, that meant Nat was going with us too. But I thought, oh well, now she'll hear about the great job I got. Which she did. And she was properly shocked and maybe even a little bit jealous since she works at the same mall but in one of those cheesy stores where only grandmas shop. But I just acted like no big deal. And she didn't say much. So maybe the rest of my evening was one of those things…the pride-comes-before-a-fall kind of thing. I'm not sure. Looking back, I think that might be what happened.

So why am I miserable? Here's how it went down. I parked my car safely away from other cars since I didn't want any door bumps, and we went inside and headed downstairs for youth group. The first person I saw was Brooke, and she was coming out of the elevator, which no one uses except for the handicapped. That's when I saw she looked seriously bad. I mean really, really terrible. Like she'd been run over by a semitruck or thrown under a train. She had this big neck brace attached to some kind of corset-looking thing around her middle, and she was using a walker contraption to slowly get around.

Amanda was with her, and suddenly everyone else gathered around her, helping her and acting very concerned. Then she
noticed me and got this terrified expression, like she thought I would come over there and knock her down or break her legs or something horrible. Naturally, I kept my distance.

But the whole time I felt like a piece of doggy-doo stuck to someone's shoe. Unwanted and despicable. And like I better get out of this place ASAP. What made me think I belonged here in the first place? What made me think I could ever fit in with normal? Was this normal?

I was about to take off but then remembered I had brought Kim and Nat. Did I just dump them here? Worship was beginning, and Dominic was helping Josh with music again. Kim and Nat were talking to Caitlin, and I was standing alone and could feel others glancing at me. Their glances felt accusatory—like everyone had heard about Mr. Marshall's lawsuit and assumed I was personally responsible for Brooke's condition. Like I was up there on the ladder and had pushed her off just for spite. Anyway, I just couldn't take it anymore.

So in the middle of worship time, I tossed Kim a look that I hoped she understood, and then I slipped out the back. I went outside to my car, but before I left the parking lot, I texted Kim, telling her I'd be back to pick them up afterward. That's all I said.

To my relief, Kim called me later and said that she and Nat were catching a ride with someone else. I wanted to ask her if anyone noticed I'd left. How self-centered was that? I guess I didn't want everyone to think I was out joyriding in my new car. Although I doubt anyone missed me anyway. But I missed them.
I missed hearing the message at youth group too. And part of me wonders why I didn't stick around. Why didn't I say something to Brooke? I could've shown some sympathy. But that look she gave me—combined with the letter her dad sent me—well, it was just overwhelming.

And then this morning, instead of going to church as usual, I told Kim I didn't feel well, and she and Uncle Allen went without me. The truth is, I don't feel so great. Oh, I'm okay physically. But emotionally…well, I feel kind of broken. I have this ache inside me. Like, once again, my life doesn't work. I don't fit in. Will I ever?

But even worse is that I feel like a complete fraud. I thought I was a Christian. I thought I was learning to love others. I felt hopeful. But this whole thing with Brooke seems to reveal who I really am. Selfish. Hateful. Spiteful. Mean. Hypocritical. False. I didn't believe that she was really hurt. I had been feeling bad toward her and only thinking of myself. And here she is practically crippled. What is wrong with me?

This is my third day working at Jacqueline's, and I think it's going pretty well. It's a lot better than I expected and much less stressful than working on Rodeo Drive last summer. Jackie Bernard, my boss and the owner of the boutique, is pretty laid-back. She reminds me of Bette Midler, except that Jackie's a brunette. But her voice, the way she laughs, and even her face all remind me of Bette. And so far, she's been in a good mood. Although today
she caught me off guard when she asked if I was happy working for her.

“Happy?” I said with surprise. “Sure. It's great.” Okay,
great
was a bit of an overstatement, but it's not bad. Besides, what else do you say to your boss?

She nodded and just studied me. “You seem a little down.”

“I'm sorry,” I said quickly. “Should I smile more or be more friendly or something?”

She laughed. “No. But if there was anything wrong, I'd want you to tell me.”

“No. Nothing is wrong.” But since the shop was void of customers, I told her I was feeling a little bummed over the lawsuit, and when she asked for details, I filled her in.

She just shook her head. “Wow, that would be depressing.”

“But I'll try not to bring it to work with me,” I assured her as I straightened a stack of T-shirts.

“I can't imagine a court would take such a suit seriously. But just in case, do you have an attorney?”

I explained about my dad's lawyer. “Although his expertise is entertainment,” I admitted, “he's looking over the paperwork for me.”

“An entertainment attorney?”

I could tell she was curious. So I told her about my dad, and as it turned out, she was a big fan. “So your mother is Patricia's sister, and she was married to Nick Stark?”

“That's right.”

“I can't believe Patricia never mentioned this.” She frowned. “And we were very good friends.”