The Winner's Game (15 page)

Mom probes further by asking, “Can you explain why you're so happy all of a sudden? A couple days ago you were pretty sour.”

She shrugs. “Why shouldn't I be? Bree and Cade keep giving me all of these great compliments. Even if they don't mean it, it's kind of a nice change from the usual.”

Mom hands the notebooks back to me and Bree. “New rule,” she says. “From now on, you cannot take points away from anyone. You can give yourself all the points you've legitimately earned for being nice, but you cannot retaliate by taking points when someone is mean. In fact, if someone is mean to you,
not
retaliating should be a point in your favor, because that's a very hard, very loving thing to do.”

“Well, there goes my advantage,” says Ann, sounding a little bummed.

“But I think you know it's the best thing for everyone,” says Mom.

With a nod she says, “I know. Besides, I'm still going to win.”

A crooked smile develops on Bree's face as she folds her arms. “Maybe this week, Ann, because I'm really in the hole right now. But I can make you a promise that for the rest of the summer, I'm going to be hard to beat. The hundred dollars will be really nice, but the best part will be seeing you lose.” She glances at me and adds, “And you.”

“And I love you too, Sis,” replies Ann, still smiling sweetly.

A
NN DOZES OFF
soon after we turn out the lights, but I toss and turn in bed for over an hour. My brain is spinning on all sorts of things—dead cats, the Winner's Game, Ann's heart, and especially the things she said about dying. Her opinion on death has been a little hard to swallow, but eventually I come to accept that maybe she is right. Not only is Ann herself a heartbeat away from her last breath, but any one of our lives could be snuffed out—just like Mr. Skittles'—in the blink of an eye.

That really sucks.

Even though the room is completely quiet, if I listen closely, I can almost imagine the sound of Ann's defective heart echoing through the bed beneath me. Beating for now, but waiting, like a robber, to steal everything she has.

The last thing to cross my mind before I drift off is Ann's comment from a couple days ago.

Everyone's going to die. One way or another…

Even though I know Ann has pretty much won this first week of the Winner's Game, I figure getting a little practice in for next week can't hurt, so I spend Friday morning wandering around with Cade and the metal detector near Haystack Rock.

After all, what can be nicer than a sister who seems interested in what her little brother is doing? This should be worth a point for every minute I pretend to be enjoying it.
My expectations are low that we'll find anything valuable, but who knows, right? That's the thrill of it, I guess. Each time the buzzer sounds, Cade can hardly contain himself. He digs like crazy, only to find some tiny piece of junk, but then he says that each failure just means he's one step closer to finding the mother lode.

Ann joins us on the beach after we've been out there maybe an hour, but all she wants to do is sit there on her beach towel.

Sweet! No points for her!

I stop and look her way from time to time, to make sure she's OK, and each time, she is in the same position, staring out at the ocean.

After another half hour I look up and Ann's towel is empty. I scan the beach and spot her near the edge of the water, where she can almost get her feet wet, but not quite.

“Ann!” I shout. “What are you doing?”

The wind is blowing in her direction or she probably wouldn't hear me. She turns slowly. “I'm going inside,” she calls back. “Are you staying?”

I nod. “Just until Cade is done.”

“Just make sure you both stay out of the water,” she calls back. “It isn't safe.”

Shortly after noon Cade's battery dies, so we head back home. Mom is in Grandma's room reading more of her journals. She says she's going to be a while, but asks if I'll go check on Ann.

When I go up to our room, Ann is writing something on the bottom of her bed. “More hearts?” I ask.

She shakes her head, but her eyes remain focused on the pen strokes. “Planning.”

“Does Mom know—?”

She lifts a finger to shush me. “Just a sec. I'm almost done.” Half a minute ticks by before she lowers the pen. “What were you saying?”

“I was just wondering if Mom knows you're writing on the bed.”

“Yeah, she saw it a few days ago when she was picking up laundry. She said she doesn't care. Dad, on the other hand, would care a lot, so let's not tell him.”

I nod. “What are you ‘planning'?”

She smiles. “Come see for yourself.”

It's been a few days since I've looked at her bunk bed artwork. I kneel down next to her to find not only more hearts inside other hearts, but also tiny words in the spaces between the hearts. “What does it say?”

“Look closer. You've got two eyes.”

I crawl up on the bed and read aloud: “
Color my hair…Do something unpredictable…Swim in the ocean…Fall in love…Eat sushi…Feed a sea lion.
” I do a double take at the last one. “
Feed a sea lion?
”

“Yep. Yesterday, while I was walking on the beach, I saw a guy tossing fish guts to two sea lions in the surf. All three of them seemed like they were having so much fun. The sea lions acted almost like they were his pets. Every time he threw something to them, they'd bark for more.” She stares at her own words on the wood. “I want to do these things this summer, while I still can.”

“Cool.”

“I know. I'm going to do them all, and once I'm done, I'll add more things to the list.”

“You sure you're gonna fall in love?”

“Hey, don't burst my bubble. If I want to fall in love, I can.”

“But not with Tanner, though…right?”

“I don't know. Maybe. It could be anyone. I just think I deserve to fall in love, and so I'm going to.”

I don't see how, but whatever
. “So when are you going to start?”

“Falling in love?”

“Any of these things.”

With a long sigh, Ann flops back on her pillow and stares up. Then she lifts a finger and presses it against the plywood. Slowly, she traces the outermost heart, like it's written in Braille. “Soon,” she replies nervously. After a few more seconds she scoots to the edge of the mattress and stands up.

“How soon?”

“Like now.”

“Like,
now
now?”

“Right now.”

“Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“Out where?”

“Somewhere.”

“Can I come?”

“Sorry. Not this time.”

“Why? What are you going to do?”

She looks at me for a long time, like she isn't so sure herself. Then, with a little smile, she makes up her mind. “I'll start with something unpredictable…then see what happens next.”

I cross my arms and tilt my head. “Are you telling Mom you're going?”

“I have Page in my pocket. I'm fine. Besides, I'll be back long before she finishes reading Grandma's journals.”

“What about your cell phone, in case we need to call you?”

She shrugs. “It needs a charge. Besides, you know how spotty the reception is here. But don't worry. I'm totally fine.”

“I don't know, Ann. Maybe you should just let her know.”

Ann frowns. “We both know if I ask permission she'll say no. Or she'll make me take you or Cade along to babysit me. But right now, I just need to live a little.” She points to the words on the underside of the bed. “My bucket list is calling.” She pauses. “Tell you what, I'll spot you fifty points for next week's round of the Winner's Game if you just let me go without telling Mom.”

Fifty points! Sucker…

“Deal,” I say without hesitation. “Enjoy being unpredictable.”

T
HERE'S PLENTY
of stuff I could be looking at on my walk into town—kites flying above houses, seagulls on the breeze, white fluffy clouds blowing in off the ocean—but I can't take my eyes off the couple walking ahead of me. What are they, like twelve? They don't look old enough to watch a PG movie by themselves, let alone date, and yet they're holding hands like they've been doing so for years. As we continue walking, they're laughing like they haven't got a care in the world.

Seeing them makes me a little jealous. Not of them, per se, but of carefree people in general. How would it be to be like that? How would it be to be impulsive, to not hold back, to just put yourself out there with people and not be scared of the consequences? How would it feel to have no regrets at the end of the day and to live like there's no tomorrow?

Bree's like that. I bet she's held hands with guys before. Maybe even kissed one or two of them. Of course she's never had to worry that there might not be a tomorrow. Maybe she wouldn't be so spontaneous if she was constantly battling worries that her heart might burst.

Then again, maybe she'd be
more
spontaneous, because she'd be afraid of missing out on something.

As I approach the row of shops where the candy store is, I slow way down to buy myself a little more time to think this through.

What if I walk in there and make a fool of myself? What if he doesn't even remember me? What if he's decided he'd actually rather not hang out?

I check my watch. If I remember correctly, his shift should end in about fifteen minutes.

I'm completely neurotic!

This is stupid. Why do I even care what he thinks? What would Bree do? I bet she'd just take a deep breath and walk right in there and start talking to him. Maybe she wouldn't even need a deep breath to calm herself down. Is she so much better than me? For crying out loud, I'm almost an adult. I should be able to show a little interest in a guy without having palpitations, right?

So why is my heart doing flips in my chest?

I take a deep breath…and force my feet to proceed.

There's a bell hanging on the inside of the door when I walk into the candy shop. I wish there wasn't, so I could try to slip in undetected. But there's no backing out now. The bell has announced my arrival. I'm at my destination. And Tanner is…nowhere to be seen.

“Hello there,” says an older man behind the counter. “Welcome to my store.”

“Oh, I…hi.”

“Got your mind set on something sweet?”

“Uh-huh.”
I assume he's sweet anyway…he seemed so last week when I met him.

“You look like a chocolate girl to me. Am I right?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Well, you're welcome to sample anything in the store if it'll help you decide.”

Just then a familiar face appears through a door behind the counter.

I'll have one of those, if you don't mind…

“Ann?”

“Hey Tanner.”

“I'm surprised to see you.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “I don't know. Your sister kinda made it seem like…I don't know…that you didn't really want to see me or something.”

Wait. Bree came here? Behind my back? To meet Tanner? Oh, that conniving little…!
“Really? I didn't even know she came. That's weird.”

“So…are you here to buy something?”

If I had a smile that was cute or charming, I would use it now. But I honestly don't even know what a smile like that would look like, so I just grin sheepishly. “Actually, I was coming to see if…you know…you wanted to hang out. You said something before about maybe showing me around town?”

Tanner seems a little surprised…but in a good way. He checks his watch. “I'm off work in about ten minutes. Can you wait?”

The man behind the cash register chuckles. “Oh, for crying out loud, Tanner, never keep a lady waiting. Your last ten minutes is on me. You kids go have some fun.”

As Tanner leads the way through the door, I feel my heart racing again. But this is different from normal. It doesn't scare me. I have no worries about what might or might not happen as a result of the pounding inside my chest. For the first time in a long time, the strained beating of my heart feels strangely…
happy
.

R
EADING ABOUT
Grace's life has given me ample cause to evaluate mine. I used to think she walked on water, but looking at my grandmother through her own eyes, I realize that she had her own challenges and imperfections, just as we all do. That knowledge doesn't necessarily make my challenges any easier to face, but at least I know it's not just me.

I remember the year I graduated from high school. Without my own mother there to support me, Grandma filled in as best she could. For her efforts, I made her a special Mother of the Year award. Thinking about it makes me laugh—not because it's funny but because right now I'm so far from earning such an award from my kids. What would they even write on the award? “
Thanks, Mom, for asking us to throw rocks at each other
”?

Yeah, not exactly award-winning mothering.

Of course, our Winner's Game experiment probably removes me from award consideration too. I mean, what kind of mother offers her children money to be nice to each other? But the thing is…it seems to be working! All the game needed was one tiny little change, and now relationships already seem to be mending between the kids.

With the way Bree and Cade were fighting when we first started, I was certain our little experiment—and ultimately our family—was doomed. In hindsight, it's clear that the problem was that they were looking for the negative, looking for ways to punish the other for mistakes. Now that there is no motivation to look for the negative, they are staying more focused on the positive.

If I step back, I suppose it's the same way with Dell and me in our relationship. We're constantly keeping score of all the perceived injustices between us, which I'm sure hinders us from seeing all the good in our marriage.

I can only pray that Dell will play the game with me…

But for now, I'm tickled to see that one tiny little change in our game has brought a glimmer of hope. The game itself may yet fail, but I can see, hear, and feel the difference in the way my children interact, and it's a beautiful change for the better.

Yesterday, for example, Cade pushed Bree's hot buttons several times. I think he was just trying to see how she would react, given the rule change. In the morning he pointed out that her breath stank, but rather than yelling at him or making some rude comment about his intelligence, she actually thanked him for bringing it to her attention. Then she gave herself a point for restraining her emotions and marched straight to the bathroom and brushed her teeth! And in the afternoon, when he told her he'd just seen a six-year-old-girl trot by on the beach wearing the same ugly swimsuit as hers, she laughed it off and said that that little girl must have good taste.

When she was alone, I asked her why she didn't lash out at his comments. Her answer made a lot of sense: “If he's being mean, and I'm nice back, I win! It's not easy, because deep down I still want to punch him, but smiling instead will help me get that hundred dollars.”

I'm not saying everything is suddenly perfect between them—after all, they are still rival siblings—but the tone and intent of their interactions has taken a noticeable turn for the better. Without the burden of focusing on everyone's little shortcomings, they all seem more inclined to look for and embrace the positive.

Dear God…just let it last.

I'm nearing the end of another page in Grandma's journal, when Bree knocks on my bedroom door, then waltzes in.

“What'cha up to?”

I finish reading the next sentence before answering. “Just reading. You?”

“I painted a picture of you and Dad. Want to see?” Without waiting for my reply she produces a small watercolor from behind her back. I have to look at it from several different angles before I see the forms of a man and a woman embracing.

“I can't tell where I end and he begins.”

Bree smiles knowingly. “That's kinda the idea.”

Aww…she really can be sweet when she wants to be.

I check my watch. It's later than I thought. “Was Ann upstairs with you? I haven't seen her in a while.”

Something flashes across her face, but I can't read it. “No. I…um…I haven't seen her in a while either.”

I still don't want to stop reading, but I know I should. At least until I'm sure Ann is safe. Bree hands me her painting as I approach. “Can I keep it?”

“As long as you promise to show Dad.”

“Promise.”

After setting the painting on the nightstand in the next room, I find Cade on the deck with his slingshot, shooting popped popcorn into the air at a frenzied mob of seagulls. Where does he come up with these ideas? The other day I saw him out back with a fishing pole fixed up with a Buffalo Chicken Wing tied to the end of the line. He cast the line to a nearby seagull, and when the thing swallowed the piece of chicken whole, he began reeling it in. The gull, of course, had the chicken bone in its belly, so it was kind of stuck. It immediately took off flying, and eventually snapped the string, but for a few seconds, Cade had his very own living kite. “Hey, Sport, what's with the poncho?”

“It's for the—”

“Oh poop,” I groan as one of the seagulls swoops overhead and drops a white streak on my Polo windbreaker.

Cade is grinning from ear to ear. “Exactly.”

I retreat a few steps to the cover of the roof and begin carefully peeling off the jacket. “Hey, I was just looking for Ann. Have you seen her?”

He lowers his slingshot. “Like three or four hours ago. I saw her heading out the front door.”

“Did she tell you where she was going?”

He shrugs—not like he doesn't know something, more like he's not sure he should say.

“What did she say, Cade?”

“Uh…all she said was…uh…not to tell you that she was going.”

“Those were her exact words?”

“Uh-huh.”

I don't wait to hear anything more. “Bree!” I yell through the doorway. “Ann took off!”

Cade quickly dumps the remaining popcorn over the side of the deck, to the delight of at least fifty diving birds, then tears off his poncho, and we hurry inside. Once we're all together in the living room, I pelt him with more questions.
When exactly did she leave? Did she say when she'd be back? Any idea where she was going? Why would she not want me to know?

Before her medical problems, I wouldn't have thought twice about Ann going out for a little while on her own. But given her current condition, and knowing that if the pager suddenly rings and she isn't close to home, she could miss out altogether on a transplant, I need to be extrakeen on always knowing her whereabouts.

When Cade guesses that Ann might have walked to town to “see that boy at the candy shop,” Bree zings him with her best scowl. “You better not have told her!”

“Told who what?” I ask.

Cade seems to be covering for Ann, but he is more than happy to rat out Bree. “Bree took me with her so she could meet Tanner. Without Ann knowing.”

In moments like this, placing my hands on my hips and frowning is almost instinctual. “Bree Grace Bennett, why on earth would you go behind your sister's back like that?”

“Uh-oh,” warns Cade. “Full name.”

For a second or two, Bree has that deer-in-the-headlights look, then she throws her hands up in the air. “You're missing the point here! Ann snuck out of the house to do ‘
something unpredictable
'! So don't turn this around on me.” As soon as she says it, she realizes she may have said too much.

“What do you mean ‘to do something unpredictable'? Is there something you aren't telling me too?”

“Maybe?” she whispers.

“Spit it out, Bree.”

In the next thirty seconds, Bree quickly explains how Ann “paid” her fifty points in the Winner's Game to keep her secret that she was heading off to fulfill her summer bucket list.

“Fifty?” asks Cade dejectedly. “Oh man, I only got twenty for keeping my mouth shut.”

Once I'm clear on the details about Ann, I circle back to the point about Tanner. “Now explain to me why you went to meet this boy without your sister.”

In response, she throws her hands up in the air again, like I'm nuts for even asking. “Seriously? That's what you're worried about? Ann snuck out of the house to do ‘something unpredictable'! For all we know she could be hitchhiking down to Hollywood, or stealing a car and going for a joyride. Heck, have you even checked to see if the Walrus is still in the driveway?”

“‘Unpredictable' for Ann does not mean stealing a car.”

Bree doesn't back down. “True, but what about her heart? She could be out there right now
dying
, while we're in here worried about some dumb boy? C'mon, Mom, we should go look for her!”

It's so hard being mad at one child when I'm worried about the other. I drop my hands from my hips. “You're right, we should go find her. But I expect a full explanation later, young lady.”

It only takes a minute to reach the candy shop by car. I hop out and rush inside, leaving the Walrus idling. “She's not there,” I tell the kids when I return a minute later. “Neither is Tanner, but the man behind the counter says he left with ‘a young lady' hours ago.”

Bree is next to me on the front seat. “Was it Ann?”

“I assume so.” As I'm pulling out into the street, I add, “Oh, that girl is in so much trouble.”

“Why?” asks Cade from the backseat. “She didn't do nothing wrong.”

“‘
Anything
wrong,' Cade, and she most certainly did. Since when is it OK to sneak out of the house?”

“Maybe she didn't sneak. Maybe she just walked right out.”

“Well, she didn't ask permission. And she obviously knew it was wrong, or she wouldn't have asked you to cover for her.”

“Am I gonna have to ask permission to go for a walk when I'm seventeen?”

“If you have a serious heart condition and you're going to pal around alone with a girl, most definitely.” I can feel myself growing increasingly irritable with every word.

“I just don't think she's done anything wrong.”

“Cade William Bennett! Stop arguing with me!”

“Uh-oh,” remarks Bree. “Full name.”

“I'm just saying…,” he mumbles.

“Zip it, young man.”

Just to be sure Ann isn't nearby, I drive slowly along the little strip mall, checking every window to see if she's there. At the next intersection, we turn a corner and start individually checking every store that looks promising. After we've canvassed the area thoroughly, we turn around and take side streets slowly back to the house, hoping every face along the way is Ann's.

None of them are.

When we make it home thirty minutes later, there are two figures—a boy and a girl—sitting on the front step of the porch, deep in conversation.

Ann waves as we pull to a stop in the driveway. “Where have you guys been?” she asks as we pile out of the car.

I'm fuming inside, but I try not to lose my cool in front of Tanner. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

Ann gleefully holds up a white paper bag. “Sushi! Oh my gosh, at first I thought I was going to puke. But after that it was kind of good.”

Tanner stands up as we approach. “Hi. I'm Tanner.”

“So I've heard,” I say, finding it hard not to clench my teeth. “It's nice to meet you.”

“Hey Cade,” Tanner says, holding up a smaller paper bag. “I brought you something.”

“
Eww
. No way. I hate fish.”

“It's not sushi, dude. Trust me, you'll like it.”

Reluctantly, Cade takes the offering. Inside is an assortment of goodies from the candy store.

“They're rejects,” Tanner explains. “Broken pieces we can't sell. But they still taste good. I thought you and Bree would like them.”

As if on cue, Bree waves daintily at him, her cheeks blushing profusely.

Oh great—two teenage girls, one teenage boy. As if we need any more drama this summer…

“So I have to share?” asks Cade.

“Of course you have to share,” I tell him before Tanner can respond. “Thank you, Tanner. That's very nice of you.”

He nods, then checks his watch. “Well, I should probably get going. My mom doesn't know where I'm at.”

Sounds familiar.

Then the most awkward thing happens, or at least I find it awkward. Without so much as a hesitation, Tanner turns to Ann, opens his arms wide, and gives her a hug! Right there in front of me! Didn't they just barely meet? How did they progress to hugging so quickly? When I was a teenager, it took more than a single afternoon together to reach hugging status, and I would have
never
done so with someone's mom watching!

“Thanks,” he says. “I had fun.”

“Me too.” Ann is practically glowing. “Thanks for the sushi.”

Behind them, Bree is glowering.

“So are we on for tomorrow?” asks Tanner.

Ann shifts her gaze to me and smiles. “Mom, can I hang out with Tanner tomorrow?”

“Define ‘hanging out.'”

“You know, just chill at the beach and stuff.”

“And maybe surfing,” says Tanner. “She said it sounds fun.”

“Surfing? Ann, you know I can't let you do that. What if you—?”

“Freeze? You're right, the water is really cold and I don't have a wet suit. Plus, I'm probably not a strong enough swimmer. Maybe I can just watch him surf?”

I am utterly stunned by my daughter's comments. Why would Ann suggest that she's a weak swimmer, when she's already proven to be one of the best in the entire state of Oregon? After an extended silence, I finally say, “We'll talk about it. I'm not sure what we have going on tomorrow, since your father will be here. He may already have something in mind.”