The Right and the Real (6 page)

I threw it open. “I know you’re in here, Mira,” I said.

“What do you want?” she asked from the end stall.

“Why did you do it?” I asked. “Why did you convince Dad to cut me off?”

“I didn’t,” she said. “It wasn’t me. It was Jesus.”

I’d always thought Mira was manipulative but sane. Now I wasn’t so sure. “What do you mean?”

“Jesus told him to do it,” she said.

I stared at the pink metal door dividing us. “What? Like in a dream?”

The door flew open and Mira faced me, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright. “Not in a dream! The Teacher is Jesus Christ our Lord come again.”

Oh. My. God. I’d heard the Teacher say that a million times, but I guess I never realized people actually took it literally.

“And he told my dad to disown me?” I asked in the kind of nonthreatening voice one uses with a crazy person.

She nodded. “Yes, yes! He told us that you are evil and all you want is Richard’s money. But now, the church will safeguard his inheritance for him, and you are banned. Praise God.”

“And my dad believed him?”

“Of course,” she said. “Jesus would never lie to us.”

I was still taking this idea in when Mira darted around me and ran out through the bathroom door.

I HEADED TO KRISTA’S.

None of this had seemed real, but now I couldn’t believe I’d been stupid enough to think Dad would go to the trouble to pack my stuff and kick me out just to make a point. As I climbed the stairs to Krista’s room, part of me was surprised at how little emotion I felt. Sappy commercials can leave me a weepy mess, and those crazy stories, like the one where someone has a heart attack and then the doorbell rings and it’s the pizza guy, only he’s actually an out of work paramedic and he saves the day…I cry rivers over. And I’d sobbed buckets on Monday, but now, when my whole life was falling apart, all I felt was cold. A deep, bone-chilling iciness.

I’d told Krista I was signing the Pledge so Josh and I wouldn’t have to date in secret. She hadn’t liked that at all, but I’d decided I’d rather let him take the blame than tell her my dad had kicked me out. Now that I wasn’t going to get to move back home, I’d have to tell her the truth. Stepping into her cheerful room should have snapped me out of it, but everything looked sort of surreal instead.

“Hiya, chickie,” she said, glancing up from her sketch pad. “How’d it go?”

“Ummm…not that good.” I perched on a twin bed.

“Why? What happened?”

“Well—”

Someone knocked twice and then opened the door a crack. George poked his head into the room. As usual, he needed a shave. Krista and I always joked that her stepdad was half gorilla.

“Okay, I’ll turn down the music,” she said.

“It’s not the volume, although, now you mention it…Actually, I have a special-delivery letter for you, Miss Kris.” George held up a thin envelope. “It was still in the mailbox when I got home. Probably nothing important,” he said, “but the postmark
is
New York.”

Krista laid down her drawing pad, her expression a mixture of terror and hope. She took the envelope from him like she was afraid it contained snakes. Slowly she tore it open and pulled out the letter.

“I got in,” she said, almost too quietly for us to hear. “I got in to Beaumont Design in New York!”

George and I threw our arms around her. We laughed, and hugged, and congratulated her. Pride for Krista swelled up inside me, replacing all my worries. She’d worked so hard for this, and for the first time in days, the tears that leaked out of the corners of my eyes were happy ones.

“I have to call Mom!”

George gave her another hug. “Good job, kiddo,” he said. He saluted us and backed out of the room. “As you were.”

Krista dialed her mom, but got voice mail. “Call me back as soon as you can,” she said.

She grabbed the huge file we’d put together full of brochures, maps, and the school’s catalogue, and we pored over it, excited because it was finally happening—our dreams! Or at least Krista’s. The
thought did occur to me that our big plans would be ruined if I didn’t get into drama school, but I pushed it away.

“You know what would be the ultimate New York experience?” she asked. “If we could find a brownstone to live in. I mean, ones that are apartments, not a whole house.”

I tugged at the hem of the Day-Glo orange tunic she had on. “You’re going to have to raise the prices on your website for your clothing line to afford that.”

“Don’t I know it,” she said. “I probably can too. Now that I got into such a prestigious school. Besides, I meant a really tiny apartment.”

“Like maybe someone’s walk-in closet?”

“Exactly,” she said.

I slumped deeper into the throw pillows and watched Krista shuffle through the papers. Her eyes had that same glittery, excited look we always shared when we planned our future together. How could I tell her about getting kicked out now? Without my dad’s support, I’d never even get to New York. Krista would have to find someone else to room with, because at that moment, I didn’t know where I was going to live next week, let alone next year. I couldn’t bring her down like that when she was so happy. But I had to tell her something.

“Krista—”

Her phone blared the theme song from the TV show
Fashion Escapades,
and she grabbed it. “Hi, Mom. No, everything’s good. It’s fabulous news, actually. I got in to Beaumont Design!”

I heard her mom scream in excitement through the phone. Krista had chosen Beaumont because it was a tiny boutique school, and they only took in twenty new students each year. Most of their graduates got great internships with big-time designers. It was a huge accomplishment
to be accepted straight out of high school too, and as she talked with her mom about the program, I had to fight a surge of jealousy.

If I told Krista what happened at the church, I could make her promise to keep quiet, but I wasn’t sure it would work. Your best friend suddenly being homeless is exactly the kind of secret
Seventeen
magazine always gives you permission to tell an adult about. And Krista thinks that, in spite of their extremely
safe
fashion choices, the writers are goddesses, so she might spill.

Maybe getting an adult involved was a good idea, but not Krista’s mom, Margie. She’d gone to high school with my mother, and no matter how many times my mom bummed money or a place to sleep off of her, she always believed her when she said she was getting clean. Margie had told me a bunch of times that Mom was doing great in LA, but what I wanted to know was, if that was true, why did she still cash the checks Dad sent her every month?

I also knew Margie didn’t like my dad because of that time when I was in eighth grade and he let a bunch of homeless druggies move into our house. Eventually, Grandpa had found a shelter for my dad’s friends and stayed with us for a month, getting my father into therapy, but Margie never forgot it. Dad had been a pretty good parent ever since, though. Until this church thing, anyway. Now Grandpa was gone, and if Krista’s mom found out I was on my own, there’d be no one to stop her from forcing a mother-daughter reconciliation. She’d probably even buy the airplane ticket herself. Krista thought I should give Mom a chance too, which burned me.

I flipped through the travel brochures while Krista and her mom gabbed about maybe taking a scouting trip to Manhattan in June.

“Of course I told Jamie,” Krista said. “She’s staying over. Yes,
again.” She rolled her eyes at me. “Yes, I know…Mom. She doesn’t want to talk to you. Okay. Fine.” She held out her cell to me.

“Why?” I mouthed.

She shrugged.

I gave in and took it. “Hi, Margie.”

“How are you, Jamie?” she asked, her voice all smooth and concerned.

“Uh…fine.”

“Krista tells me you’ve been with us since Saturday. I thought you were only staying two nights.”

I couldn’t tell if she was prying or if she knew something. I wouldn’t put it past her to have found out from a network of neighborhood friends that I’d been seen taking boxes off my porch and loading them into the Beast.

“Well, my dad and Mira…they wanted some time alone since they didn’t get a real honeymoon.…”

Krista made kissy noises at me and then started moaning and saying “ohhh, Mira…” under her breath.

“Stop it!” I whispered at her, trying to kick her off the bed, but she moved out of reach, laughing.

Margie had been talking, but I’d sort of missed it. “I’d be happy to,” she said.

“Ummm…” Crap. “Happy to…?”

“To go over and talk to your dad and Mira. I’m sure it’s hard for you all to adjust to a new person in the house, but I’ve been through this before. When George and I got married, there was a lot—”

“Oh, no,” I said. “I mean, no thank you. Please…you don’t need to go talk to my dad.”

“Jamie?” Margie said in that slow I’m-a-mom-so-don’t-even-try-to-bullshit-me voice she had. “Is anything wrong at home?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Mira’s not a drug addict or an alcoholic, is she?”

“Definitely not,” I said, telling the truth for once. But my voice was totally squeaky.

“Has your dad been going to his therapist?”

Oh, God. This was so embarrassing. “Everything’s fine, Margie. Really.”

“Are you planning to go home on Friday night, or will you be there when I get back?”

“No. I mean, yes, I’m leaving when Krista goes to her dad’s. I won’t be here.”

“You would tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”

“Sure.”

“Or George. He could help you too,” she said.

“I know. Thanks, but I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

“All right. If you say so.”

I’d have to be really careful around both Krista and her mom because I did not want to end up in Los Angeles living with Mommy Dearest.

By the time we’d turned out the lights, the coldness in me had thawed and raw pain had replaced it. Part of me wanted to throw myself on Krista’s bed and tell her everything, but I was her best friend, and she was so happy.

“Hey, Jamie,” Krista said, her voice heavy with sleep.

“Yeah?”

“You never told me what happened at the church.”

“Tomorrow,” I said. “Tell you then.”

“Okay. Night, chickie.”

Her breathing slowed to a regular rhythm. For the first time since my encounter with the Teacher tonight, I thought about Josh. I’d seen him briefly at school and told him my plan to sign, but I hadn’t gotten a chance to tell him about Dad kicking me out, because Derrick had come out of the locker room while we were talking, and we’d just walked away from each other.

We’d both been so sure that once I signed the Pledge, we would be able to date in public again, but now we’d have to keep the whole relationship a secret after all. And he’d asked me not to call or text him either. I’d have to find him as soon as possible. He was the one person who could help me, because he knew how the church worked. He would know what I should do.

I SAW JOSH FOUR TIMES BEFORE LUNCH, BUT
whenever I tried to get close to him, he ducked into a bathroom or out a side door, which kind of pissed me off. I’d made sure Derrick wasn’t around first, so I didn’t know why he had to treat me like that. On my way to the caf, his lab partner, Marissa, found me in the hall and held out my favorite blue hoodie.

“Here. Josh Peterson said you left it in his locker.” She gave me a sort of pity look, like she was sorry for me, which I didn’t buy for one second because I knew she crushed on him. A lot of good it would do her.

“Thanks,” I said, taking it.

I slipped it on, breathing in the scent of Josh’s aftershave left over from where his letterman’s coat had pressed against it in the locker. I thought maybe this was a sign he wanted to see me, and I headed for the south stairwell, where we used to meet at lunch, but he wasn’t there.

After a while, I sank down onto the floor to wait, pressing my back against the cold cinder-block wall, my arms wound tightly around my knees. The faint smell of Josh on my hoodie conjured up pictures of
us together, and I let my mind wander to when we first started dating back in September. By our third date, I’d worried something was wrong with me, like BO or bad breath, because Josh never, ever made a move. After yet another totally chaste date, Josh had dropped me off at Krista’s with a quick shoulder squeeze good-bye, and I’d run into the house looking for her.

“Smell my breath,” I said, blowing in her face.

She shoved me back. “God, Jamie. Personal space. Please?”

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s fine,” she said, “but if someone’s gonna get that close to me, I want dinner and a movie first.”

“Ha-ha.” I grabbed her and gave her a big smooch on the cheek. “I can’t get any action, so you’ll have to do.”

She wiped my lip gloss off her face. “Maybe it’s because you have a chaperone,” she said.

Derrick did go with us everywhere. But you’d think Josh would kiss me at the front door at least. I mean, yeah, his little brother was in the car, but he probably wasn’t spying on us. I highly doubted he wanted to see us making out any more than we wanted him to, but seeing people kiss wasn’t that big of a deal. He must’ve seen tons of couples hooking up at school.

When Josh finally did get around to kissing me, it was worth the wait. The best part about it, the sweetest thing, was that he’d actually
asked
first. I’d been attending the Right & the Real regularly for a month or so, and I’d met Josh’s parents and received their approval, so they let us go to homecoming together without taking Derrick as a chaperone. On the dance floor, Josh towered over me, and my arms barely reached around his neck. His strong hands wrapped around my waist, we swayed to a slow song.

“Jamie?” he’d said.

“Hmmm?” I answered, loving the warm tickle of his breath in my ear.

“I know I’m supposed to wait until I take you home, but…”

I lifted my head from his chest and looked up at him. “But?”

“Could I kiss you now?”

I couldn’t help it, the laugh bubbled out of me. I knew I was his first real girlfriend, because his parents were so strict, he’d never really dated, and he probably was just shy, but once I started giggling, I couldn’t stop, which made everything more embarrassing for him. I stood there, shaking with laughter in Josh’s arms while the color crept up his neck. He let go of my waist.