The Earth Painter (3 page)

Why was he being nice today? Guilt from the day before, or was he still playing me? I rolled my eyes and leaned in closer to whisper, “But you’re one person. Not a whole town gawking at me while I make a fool of myself and my family.”

“It’s a high school play, not network television. You’ll do fine, and I’m sure your parents will be proud of you no matter what.”

I wasn’t so sure.

“But if you hate speaking in front of people so much, what made you sign up for drama?”

“I’m in drama because they messed up my schedule. I would never choose to be here,” I whispered.

I turned my attention back to Ms. Jones. She was calling everyone to join her on the stage.

“We will be studying the parts of the theater until our Renaissance play arrives.” She handed out a second stack of papers with a diagram of a stage and auditorium on it. Again, Ms. Jones skipped Theo.

“Bring a pen. I will give you a tour of the theatre while you fill in the blanks?”

“Will we be tested on this?” asked Anthony, standing with his letterman group.

“No Anthony, you will not be tested. It is for your benefit to know your way around the theatre.”

Once everyone was on stage, Ms. Jones continued. “The entire part of the stage from ceiling to floor is called the stage-house.” She pointed to the walls offstage, “The ladders going up the wall lead to the catwalk. Look up and you will see the catwalk is a platform for walking above the stage from one side to the other. It is used to move equipment up in the flies or fly-system. The flies are used to hang sets.”

I took notes as quickly as I could, and then it occurred to me there would be no test. I looked up. Theo was no longer with us.

I bent back to look around a large boy beside me—a football player according to his jacket - and saw Theo sitting on risers offstage. How did he get by with not participating? He caught me looking and smiled.

I put my head down and resumed taking notes.

“The light bulb hanging off the wall behind you is called the ghost light. It’s left on 24/7for the ghost.”

The big football player beside me raised his hand. “Ms. Jones? Um…what…what ghost?” He had a serious expression on his face. I bit my lip to hold in a giggle.

Ms. Jones laughed. “It’s just tradition. Like saying, ‘break-a-leg’. You don’t actually want people to break their legs, and there isn’t really a ghost. Now, moving on…”

We took notes until the bell rang. Everyone grabbed their bags from the seats, but Ms. Jones stopped us before we walked out of the auditorium.

“I have monologues. I want them memorized by Monday.
Plan on delivering them on stage.
I have something special for the best performance.” She pushed through and stood at the door. “The ones in my left hand are for the ladies, and the ones in my right are for the guys.”

I grabbed one without looking at the title and headed to lunch. It was just as I descended the stairs that I remembered I’d left my Kindle under the seat.

I spun around and ran back up the stairs, yanked the auditorium door open and ran down the aisle. I found my e-reader and turned to leave when I saw someone out the corner of my eye. I turned in time to see Theo heading offstage behind the curtain.

What was he still doing up there? I tiptoed up the steps and looked around, but he’d vanished. Whatever he was up to was none of my business. I ran back down the steps and up the aisle to get to the cafeteria before the bell rang.

I sat alone with my lunch tray, reading and crunching on an apple. The sound of trays hitting the table in front of me caused me to look up. Anthony sat in the seat across from me. Beside him was a lanky boy with messy, curly hair.

Anthony nodded towards the guy beside him. “This is Wayne. We run track and cross country together,” Anthony said before picking up a slice of pizza, dipping it in ranch dressing and taking a large bite.

“Oh, that’s…nice.” It sounded like a question rather than a statement.

Anthony chewed, took a bite and then looked over at Wayne. Wayne sat looking at me with a goofy grin on his face until Anthony elbowed him in the side.
“Staring’s rude man.”
Then Anthony looked at me.
“Sorry, Holly.
Wayne here lacks social skills.”

We ate in silence until Wayne spoke. “So Holly, what are your thoughts on the universe?”

I hurried and chewed my bite of apple before I choked.
“The universe?”
I glanced over at Anthony whose face now rested in his hand.

“Yeah, so do you think we have an infinite or finite universe?”

It was then I noticed the braces and the many rubber bands.

“Um…I…What?”
I looked back at Anthony. I could feel the deer-in-the-headlights look on my face.

Anthony mouthed without speaking, “I’m sorry.”

“Last night, I was reading a book on different theories of the shape and size of the universe.”
Wayne ’s
eyes grew wide with excitement as he picked up his apple from the lunch tray. “One theory suggests that the universe is finite. So theoretically, a spaceship could leave one point, travel continuously in one direction,” he began tracing a line around his apple with his finger “and end up back at the same point from which it departed. If it is infinite, the ship would travel on the same course forever and never return to that spot.”

“I’ve never heard that before.” I shook my head, uncertain about what to say next.

“Wayne’s always going on about stuff like that,” Anthony said between bites. “I just nod and pretend I understand. But the truth is, he could be speaking Chinese, and I’d understand it just as much. The only person in the school he can have a real conversation with is Mr. Winters.”

“Who’s Mr. Winters?” I asked, not sure how else to participate in the conversation.

“The chemistry and physics teacher.
He’s the best,” Wayne’s eyes sparked with excitement. “He’s fresh out of college, so he’s just a little older than us. He even lets me take chemicals home for my own lab.”

I felt like my eyes grow wider. “You have your own lab?”

“It used to be the hall bathroom, but I took it over with my chemistry set a few years ago. A lab has to have a shower in case of emergencies. I’ve never had to use it, but it’s better to be safe than sorry,” he said before unhooking the rubber bands in his mouth and placing them in his plate.

The table fell into an awkward silence. I bit my lip and stared at the ceiling trying to think of something to say. “So—what’s the deal with the rusty looking water?”

Wayne waved unconcerned as he opened his milk carton. “The school’s on a well. Sometimes when it rains, the red clay gets washed into the water table making it muddy looking. It’s still safe to cook with when boiled. They put out water coolers when that happens.”

I thought about Wayne’s answer before saying, “But it hasn’t rained lately.”

Anthony stopped eating. His head tilted before looking at Wayne. “She’s right. It hasn’t rained in a couple of weeks.”

Wayne puzzled over it a moment. “I have Mr. Winters right after lunch. Maybe he’ll have an explanation, but if not, I’ll take some water samples and contact Clemson University. They take water and soil samples all the time and might help me figure this out.”

I shrugged. At least the rusty water topic moved the conversation away from theories on the universe. When the bell rang a few minutes later, I jumped up. Only two more periods left. I couldn’t wait for them to be over.

Chapter 3

“Heather! Heather sweetie, where are you?” Dad called walking through the door. He’d been about to burst with excitement since picking me up.

“What is it?” Mom came out of the kitchen wiping her hands with a towel.

“Guess who made a sale?” I squeezed behind him through the door.

“Oh!” She jumped and squealed before bounding into Dad’s arms. “Randall, I’m so proud of you. I knew we wouldn’t have to live like this for long.” She squealed again like someone my age. “So what kind of bonus did you get? I’ve had my eyes on a pretty dress down at Harley’s Dress Shoppe. Now that things aren’t so tight…I mean I’ve had to give up so much. I think I deserve something. Don’t you?”

I walked to my room and plopped my bag on my desk. Has she not caught on yet? I walked back out and sat on the sofa curious to see how Dad would handle Mom. That’s what we did with Mom. We handled her.

“Sweetie.”
Dad pushed her away just a little so he could look her in the eye. “Selling a used car doesn’t make the money selling surgical equipment did. This means I keep my job, and we have food on the table. Besides you have a closet full of pretty dresses and nowhere to wear them.”

Mom yanked herself away from Dad. “So does it at least mean dinner at a nice seafood restaurant like it used to?”

I was kind of hoping the answer to that was yes. Mom’s cooking was limited.

“I don’t think so,” Dad walked to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water.

Mom bit her lips shut and stared at him. Didn’t she see this was hard for him too?
For all of us?
Apparently not, because like Scarlett, she stormed off to her bed chamber.

Dad plopped down on the couch and laid his head back to look at the ceiling.
All his excitement about his sale now gone.

“Dad?”

“Yes Sweetheart.” He sat up to look at me.

“What was the name of that seafood place we used to go to with Grandma?”

Dad perked up.

“It didn’t seem expensive back when we used to visit and go with her.”

Dad jumped up.
“Great idea.”

He rushed over to his bedroom door and knocked. “I think we can keep the tradition—The Fish Camp.”

“Is the place still open?” Mom called from the other side.

I hoped so, because if it didn’t get resolved soon, she could be like this for days.

“Let me call and check.”

Dad looked up the phone number and called to find out they were open. Mom came out dressed a little over the top for the place I remembered, but at least she came out.

“Let’s go. We haven’t been out to eat in so long,” Mom said with a smile.

“Come on Holly. Get back in the car,” Dad said as he put his arm around me.

***

The line was out the door and down the walkway. Mom and Dad
were
arm-in-arm like a couple of teenagers. It was nice to see them relaxed and smiling. When Mom was happy, all was right in our world. But when she wasn’t…

“So why do they call it a fish camp? It’s just a restaurant,” I asked.

Mom turned to answer me. “Years ago, before refrigeration made seafood easily accessible for those away from the coast, people used to haul seafood up here to the upstate on ice—usually on Wednesdays or Thursdays. They’d set up camps, fry the fish along with hushpuppies, and sell them to the locals through Saturday night. Later the campsites became restaurants, but they still call them fish camps.”

“I didn’t know that. You have a very smart mother,” Dad said over his shoulder at me, then turned back to her.
“Brains and beauty.”
He caressed her cheek.

The lined inched up, and we finally entered the long entryway. “What kind of place is this?” My eyes were bugging out as I looked around me. The walls and ceiling were painted to look like rock.

Mom and I couldn’t resist touching it.

Mom’s blue eyes grew wider the further in we got. “The hallway looks like a tunnel.” She glanced around again. “I’m not usually a fan of murals, but I love this. The detail is amazing. Look, they even painted mice at the bottom.”

“We’ve never eaten anywhere like this back in Charleston,” Dad said while ducking his head under the hanging lantern.

We finally made it to the hostess station and were seated at a booth with a vinyl tablecloth and big plastic bottles of
tartar
sauce and ketchup. Except for when we visited Grandma, my
parents and I never ate anywhere but elegant restaurants. Well, except for occasional fast food. It was nice to feel relaxed for a change.

We resembled tourists twisting our necks around looking at the dining room. It was painted to look like a castle. I had to reach out and brush my fingers against the wall. It looked so much like real stone. I expected it to feel rough and cold to the touch, but it was just painted sheetrock. High above me, painted vines cascaded off a turret. They almost had a 3D appearance.

I stopped looking around when a blonde girl, about my age, came to take our drink order.

Mom started to answer, but Dad said, “Water for all of us,” before she had a chance to order something that would run the bill up.

I picked up the laminated menu and watched her bite her lip until the waitress left. I wasn’t used to Dad telling Mom no. By her reaction, she wasn’t either. But I got why he was like this now. It wasn’t just him losing his job that had landed us here. It was also Mom’s constant need for retail therapy.

Mom was getting all huffy with Dad. I glanced at the menu and quickly closed it and placed it back on the table. I needed to get away from her and all the drama.