What Would Emma Do? Part 15

Colin continued painting in tight, measured strokes. He worked with precision, like he was defusing a bomb, not painting a stupid church sign. For some reason this made me want to yank the brush out of his hand and start flinging paint around.

"Besides, you don't really care about the situation," he said, darting a quick look in my direction. "Why don't you admit the reason you're thinking of telling is because Todd is in trouble?"

"Todd and everybody else."

"You want me to believe you really care what happens to Boo-Boo?"

"I like Stu."

"No, you like Todd."

I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at Colin until he stopped painting and looked at me.

"Is that what this is about? You're mad that I like Todd instead of you."

"So you admit you like him."

"Oh my G.o.d. Can you hear yourself? This situation is so not about you or me or who we're going out with or not going out with."

"I get it. Todd doesn't like you." Colin's mouth tipped up in a small smile, and I fought the urge to smack the smile right off his face. I was developing rage issues. I could feel layers of my stomach lining being slowly eroded by acid.

"What are you talking about?"

"Is that how you're going to win his love? Deliver him safely from the clutches of Officer Ryan and the torch-burning locals?"

I could feel my nostrils flare out, but that wasn't the annoying part. The annoying part was the feeling that I was about to start crying. My throat felt hot and raw and I could tell my lower lip was doing that pre-cry shake. Colin, who has known me forever, spotted the signs right off the bat.

"Hey," he said softly. He balanced the brush on the top of the paint can and then reached over to touch my arm. "I was just joking around."

"I'm not thinking about telling just because of Todd, it's because of everyone. And because I'm sick of Darci getting away with whatever she wants." I left off the part where it was mostly about Todd.

"I didn't come to fight over all of this. Sit down with me." Colin took me by the elbow and led me away from the paint. We plunked down, our knees touching. I heard a car round the corner and pulled away slightly. All I needed was someone, say Joann's mom, for example, to drive by and see us sitting together. I ran my palm over the top of the gra.s.s. Colin reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box and flicked it open. Inside was a gold ring, with a thin band and a tiny diamond sliver. I sat straight up.

"Holy s.h.i.t!" I pushed the ring away as if he had opened a small box of toxic waste. We were friends, good friends, but there was no way we could be together. Did he think that some huge love declaration and a ring was going to make a difference?

"It isn't for you," he said, pulling the ring back. My mouth clicked shut. It's amazing I didn't choke, what with my foot being shoved so far in there.

"You're not proposing?"

"No. It's not an engagement ring, either; the sales clerk called it a promise ring. I can't afford a proper engagement ring yet." Colin gave the ring a quick once-over and put it back in his pocket. "I'm going to give it to Joann. I wanted to, I guess I felt..." Colin stared off into the distance to see if what he wanted to say was being held up by giant cue cards in the sky. "I felt like it was the kind of thing I needed to tell you. Before I told her. I hope you'll keep it a secret."

"I don't think Joann's talking to me right now, so it shouldn't be an issue." I suddenly felt like I should be doing something, so I stood up, brushed off my jeans, and went back to the sign.

"Are you p.i.s.sed?"

"No." I painted a few more strokes. The paint dripped off the brush, leaving white splotches on the ground. "I don't get it, though. What happened to what you said to me, about how you didn't want us to miss out on what could have been. To have our big chance?"

"What chance are you talking about? You said you didn't like me that way."

"Well as long as you aren't having trouble getting over it."

"So now you don't want me to be happy?"

"Of course I want you to be happy, but that doesn't mean I want you to get engaged to someone else two seconds after I tell you."

"It's not an engagement ring, it's a promise ring."

"f.u.c.k your promises." I kept painting, even though I couldn't see clearly. Stupid paint fumes seemed to be causing my eyes to water up.

"I'm sorry. I never should have said anything to you. It was a mistake. Something I had to get out of my system or something."

"Well, that makes me feel better. So the plan is you and Joann will graduate and have a summer wedding? Ride off into the sunset together?"

"No, I don't have a plan. I'm making a promise to Joann to show I intend to stick it out. So she knows I'm serious about waiting while she's in school. We probably won't get married for a few years."

"So you'll just hang out keeping the cows company until she graduates?"

"Ha ha. There's nothing wrong with not going to college, you know. I'm going to take some business cla.s.ses, but I'm going to focus on the farm. My dad and I are working out a deal where he'll sign it over to me in a few years."

"And that's really what you want?"

"And that's what I want." Colin stood up. "I should get going. I just thought you should know. Just something one friend might tell another." He started to walk toward the parking lot.

"Wait a minute." I put the brush down. "We need to decide what to do about the other thing. I still think we should tell."

"What's the point? The whole thing will blow over in a few weeks."

"Not for the people getting ha.s.sled. It's not going to be over for them in a few weeks. As long as they live in this town, people are going to look at them funny."

"I don't want to tell. There's nothing to be gained. They're blaming each other. That's not my fault. I don't need the ha.s.sle."

"Oh, you don't want to be bothered if it means people will be p.i.s.sed at you? Excuse me, I mean the right people. It doesn't matter if the kids on the outside get screwed."

"And this has nothing to do with Todd being one of the people in trouble?"

"Yes, fine, I like Todd," I said. "But don't act like this isn't about what you think is best for you. You don't want Joann to know you were with me and that you know her whole pa.s.s-out thing is a bunch of bull. Sort of makes your promise look pretty shallow."

"Whatever. I gotta go." Colin looked over at the sign. "You're still using too much paint."

I hurled the paintbrush after his back, but it missed him by a mile and landed with a soft whump in the gra.s.s. He turned to face me.

There was still one more thing I had to know. "You brought over the letter about the scholarship as a bribe, didn't you?" I asked quietly. "A way to make sure I keep my mouth shut, right? Should I consider it a lovely parting gift?"

"Take it any way you want. What I think doesn't matter. But if you want my opinion, it makes way more sense for you to keep your mouth shut. Convince your mom to let you run in the race, and then you get exactly what you want."

"What's that?"

"A ticket out of town."

29.

G.o.d? Are you there? And if you are, are you paying any freaking attention to what is going on? I have to be honest here, and please take this in the nicest way possible, but I'm starting to have some real doubts about you. Either you don't exist, or you do exist and your decisions are completely random. I used to think the idea of no G.o.d was the scariest thing I could imagine, but I'm thinking the idea of you around without any kind of plan is even scarier. Consider this advice: Pull up your socks.

After Colin left, I thought I would burst into tears. I've set new crying records in the past couple of weeks, but strangely enough, this time the tears didn't come. It was like I had finally run out. I finished painting the sign and took a step back. It didn't look right. The paint was sort of blobby in spots, and I had spilled paint on the gra.s.s below. Screw it.

I washed up and left without saying a word. If I had run into the reverend, either he would have noticed that I was upset, in which case he would have wanted to have a long and meaningful discussion about it, or he wouldn't have noticed, in which case he would have wanted to give me more things to do. So I washed up the paintbrushes and slipped out of the church.

I was glad my mom wasn't home. I wanted the place to myself, although I wasn't really sure what I wanted to do. Kicking something came to mind. Colin felt like a reasonable option. I paced back and forth in my bedroom, giving Mr. m.u.f.fles, my stuffed dog, a lecture on what a backwater h.e.l.lhole we lived in.

I s.n.a.t.c.hed up the phone and called Todd's house. His mother picked up the phone. I opened my mouth but couldn't think of what to say. I could hear his mother sounding like she was very far away instead of just across town, calling out h.e.l.lo. Then she snapped.

"These prank calls have to stop. You people can't just keep calling here and hanging up. We have caller ID. I'm writing all these numbers down!" She hung up the phone.

Great. My first attempt to reach out, and Todd's going to see my number on the hara.s.sing calls list. Things just kept getting better all the freaking time.

The afternoon was hot, one of those spring days where summer is breathing down your back. I propped the window open, but there wasn't much of a breeze. I unfolded the paper from Northwestern and read it again and again. I felt like I was trapped in one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books, only I knew there wasn't any option for peeking ahead or doing it over if I didn't like how things panned out. I flopped down on my bed with a notebook and tried to rationalize the situation.

Tell on Kimberly and Darci Pros: Keeps anyone else from being sucked into this situation (added bonus: could make T-shirts that say "Free Boo-Boo Stu," which has a cult status kind of sound).

Would clear Todd's name, and he may be grateful enough that he would speak to me again and possibly give the kissing thing another shot.

Would prevent Darci and Kimberly from appearing on national TV, except for potentially a segment on FOX News called "Christian Teens Gone Bad."

Has that general "right thing to do" feeling.

Cons: Bye-bye track team and any chance at a full ride.

Further alienates me from any of my friends (not that I wasn't doing a fine job of that all on my own) and will result in me being the town pariah, a situation that will possibly be made worse by eliminating my ticket out of town, thus leaving me trapped here for years.

There is the real chance that no one will believe me, thus resulting in my being a town pariah without any of the pros.

Keep my Mouth Shut Pros: Most likely with proper apology could convince Mom to let me run in track meet, thus providing a way out of town.

No one hates me (any more or less than they already do).

Everyone likes the story more than they will like the truth.

Cons: Todd and the others may be run out of town by hostile locals. (Nothing against the others, but what upsets me the most is the idea of Todd taking the blame for it all.) If Todd is run out of town, and it is partly my fault, it is unlikely he will want to attempt any type of romantic relationship with me.

I kept going back and forth, trying to figure out what to do. It felt like my brain was spinning on a hamster wheel without making any progress. I rolled over and curled around Mr. m.u.f.fles. The sun was shining in the window, and every so often the curtain gave a halfhearted ripple from the faint breeze. Then I fell asleep.

There is something about falling asleep in the late afternoon. You tend to have the same kind of dreams you do when you have a high fever, very vivid and very weird. This dream was no different.

In the dream I was walking around a city. It was one of those cities that can exist only in a dream. It seemed to be part Chicago, a dash of New York, and I'm pretty sure I saw the Eiffel Tower, too. In the dream this makes perfect sense somehow and doesn't bother me. I'm walking around the city, and I know I'm supposed to be someplace. I'm a little late and a lot lost. I keep asking people for directions, but no one seems to want to help me. Then I spot this street musician who I think might be John Lennon, but then I realize he's Jesus. Because it's a dream, I don't seem bothered by the fact that the Lord has become a busker. Eternity is a long time. Maybe he just felt like getting a job.

So I wait while Jesus finishes up his number, which is a sort of folksy blues song, and I ask him if he knows where I'm going. He points to the hat on the ground and I get the idea: no tip, no directions. So I fish through my pockets, and it is one of those awkward moments where I have twenty cents, which I know is too little, and a ten-dollar bill, which is a bit more than I want to spend for directions, even if the directions come from the Son of G.o.d. So I stand there for a while, because I know there is no way to ask for change. It's not like I can pick up the hat and keep the change that's in there and give him the ten. The streets are getting more crowded, and I realize I need to either move along or pony up. So finally (and with a bit of regret) I chuck the ten-dollar bill in the hat and wait for him to tell me where I need to go.

"The thing is, no matter where you go, there you are," Jesus says.

I wait a bit, but then it's clear that this is his idea of advice and this is all he's going to say. I'm annoyed because if I'd known he was going to give cheesy guru hippie advice, then I would have only kicked in the two dimes. So I turn to walk away and I hear the squeal of tires and I realize that I've walked straight into the road and a car is going to hit me. Then I wake up.

"I'm home!" my mom yelled out.

I realized the squeal that woke me up must have been the screech of the door when she came in. I sat up and tried to rub the sleep out of my eyes. My mouth felt funky, and it tasted as if I might have been chewing on Mr. m.u.f.fles's ears again. I scootched over to the end of the bed and tried to figure out what the whole thing meant. I always wanted to believe that if the Son of G.o.d appeared to me, he would have something useful to say. Or that it would be more impressive.

I stood up.

A religious vision.

That's it! I did a little dance and gave a whoop.

I didn't need to tell the truth about Darci and Kimberly. What I needed was for the truth to come out. Who did the telling wasn't important. In fact, it might be better if it wasn't me. People weren't going to believe me anyway without Colin backing me up. I needed a way for Darci or Kimberly to be the ones to tell the truth, and I had a perfect idea for how that might work. It was time for someone to have a religious vision.

30.

G.o.d, I get the importance of honoring one's father and mother (although if you want me to honor my dad, you should have him come by once in a while) but I don't think it's asking too much for this to be a two-way street. As Aretha Franklin once said: R-E-S-P-E-C-T.

Find out what it means to me R-E-S-P-E-C-T.

Take care, TCB Oh, sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me.

Now, I'm not so interested in the sock-it-to-me bit, but I wouldn't mind if once in a while my mom treated me like I wasn't a complete infant.

The idea was brilliant. I was starting to think the dream itself might have been divinely sent to give me the idea, because truly the plan was inspired. If I could get Darci or Kimberly to come clean, I didn't need to worry about any of the downsides of me being the one to tell. I just needed to convince them that their immortal souls were in peril. My best bet would be with Kimberly, as I wasn't sure Darci had a soul. How exactly I was going to do this was where the plan got a bit vague.

Implementing my plan might call for reinforcements, which would be difficult, as my reinforcement list was getting smaller all the time. It was also hard to plan the next step, because my mom was mad at me for not starting dinner.

There was a lot of heavy sighing and talk about how it wouldn't hurt me to pull my weight around the house. Considering that she's always talking about how she wants me to stay in Wheaton, you would think she could make me feel more welcome. However, I knew there was no point in arguing the case, particularly if I wanted her to let me partic.i.p.ate in track. I needed to be at the meet this Sat.u.r.day. It was regionals. I apologized for being an ingrate and began to bustle around making dinner. I suggested that she have a seat in the living room and that I would pull together some pasta. I didn't once mention that since she's the fan of Rachael Ray's 30-Minute Meals, she would be the one better suited to this task.

My mom sat in the living room, watching me make dinner. Whenever I caught her eyes, I would shoot over an adoring daughter smile. I filled a gla.s.s with crushed ice, a slice of lemon, and water and brought it over to her. I gave a small bow, more as a sign of respect than anything else, but it might have been going too far.

"What did you do?" my mom asked, giving me a sideways look. "Are you in trouble at school?"

"No. I just realized you were right, I should have made dinner."

"Uh-huh."