Katy's Homecoming (13 page)

Mr. Gorsky cleared his throat. “Not
where,
Kathleen — what.” He sounded very patient, not at all annoyed, but Katy still wanted to hide. She felt every eye in the room boring into her. “Come up and give your speech for us so we can offer critiques.”

Katy’s gaze slipped sideways and collided with Bryce’s. As soon as their eyes met, he jerked his head and looked away. Katy’s throat began to ache with the desire to cry. She wouldn’t be able to speak with her throat all tight. She felt like someone had tied her tonsils in a knot. “N-now?”
She swallowed, trying to rid her voice of the squeakiness. “But it’s Monday.” Usually they performed for one another on Thursday.

Marlys snorted. “Didn’t he just say this week’s all messed up because of homecoming? So we’re practicing today. Sheesh!” A few snickers followed her comment.

Embarrassment flooded Katy’s face with heat. She ducked her head, battling tears. “I, I …” She didn’t know what to say.

Mr. Gorsky crossed over to her desk and spoke softly. “Kathleen, are you sick?”

Sick at heart.
She managed a miserable nod.

He pointed to the door. “Take a break. Get a drink. If that doesn’t help, go to the office and tell the nurse you’re not feeling well.”

Katy rose, her legs shaky. She wanted to thank her teacher, but her voice wouldn’t work. So she just walked out the door with stiff steps. Outside the room, she collapsed against the brick wall. The cool brick felt good on her hot back. A voice rumbled from the other side of the door, and the room broke into laughter. Were they laughing at her?

She didn’t want to know. She bolted from the wall and scurried toward the office. She’d convince the nurse she needed to lie down for a while. And while she was lying on the cot in the nurse’s little station, shut away from everyone, she’d figure out how to avoid being around Bryce for the rest of the year.

Katy scuffed down the hallway that led to the nurse’s station behind the school office. She kept her head down, blinking back tears. Her chest ached with the effort of holding her hurt inside. Someone called her name, but she didn’t slow her steps. She wanted to get to the nurse’s station and hide from the world. But then footsteps clattered up behind her and a hand grabbed her elbow.

“Hey, girl, what’s your rush? Didn’t you hear me?”

Katy looked into Jewel’s grumpy face. She pulled her arm loose. “I’m going to the office.” Students weren’t supposed to loiter in the hallway during classes — the school handbook said so.

“Did the teacher alert the office that you’re on your way?”

Katy shook her head.

“Then no one will know if you stop for a minute,” Jewel said.

Jewel knew so many ways to get around the rules. But that didn’t mean Katy should break them too. “But —”

Jewel put her hand on her hip and cocked her head. “Look, I know something you need to know, and I think
it’s better for you to hear it when no one else is around.” She gestured to the empty hallway. “See how we’re alone? Perfect. So listen up.”

Katy sighed. “Hurry then.”

“You know how I’ve kept saying there’s gotta be something wrong, the seniors choosing you as sophomore rep? Well, they’re playing a secret prank, and they’ve made you part of it.”

Katy frowned. “What do you mean?”

Jewel grinned, seeming to enjoy divulging the secret. “The joke is really on Michael Evans. The senior boys on the basketball team don’t like him because he’s just a sophomore but he gets to start. And he showboats. That really ticks them off. So they convinced the others to vote you in as the sophomore girl attendant with him as the boy. They figured you wouldn’t do it — or if you did, you’d show up in your granny dress and cap — so he’d end up either standing out there alone or with ‘the little Amish girl,’ as they call you. They want him to look like a fool.”

Katy said the only thing she could think of. “I’m not Amish.”

Jewel rolled her eyes. “I
know
that. The point is, you were chosen to make Michael look like an idiot. So …” She glanced up and down the hallway. “What are you gonna do?”

Katy’s knees felt weak. A joke? They were using her to play a joke? She had no idea what to say or do. So instead of answering, she turned around and went to the nurse’s station. The nurse accepted her statement that she wasn’t feeling well — the tears swimming in Katy’s eyes were probably convincing — and allowed her to lie down on the
cot until the closing bell rang. At the end of the school day, Katy retrieved her books and coat from her locker and hurried out to the bus without talking to anyone. The other students’ laughter and noisy conversations made her want to yell at them to stop being so happy.
How dare they be so happy when she was so miserable?

Katy slumped into the bus seat and pressed her forehead against the cold window pane. She couldn’t wait to get home, go up to her room, and pour her thoughts and feelings into her journal. She felt like she might explode, so many emotions swirled through her middle. How could Bryce say he liked her then treat her like she didn’t exist? How could she be the attendant now, knowing she was only chosen to play a joke on someone?

I’m a joke to them — just a joke. I don’t fit in and they all know it. Bryce must know it too. That’s why he doesn’t want to take me to homecoming anymore. Why be seen with the school joke?

The bus rolled to a stop at Katy’s corner, and Katy plodded to Dad’s truck. She didn’t try to smile or talk as she climbed in. She didn’t care if Dad noticed she wasn’t her usual self. Maybe he’d ask her what was wrong. She wanted him to ask, even though she probably wouldn’t tell him. But if he asked, she’d know he cared.

But Dad just sent a quick smile across the cab and turned the truck toward home. His fingers drummed on the windowsill, the way they did when he was impatient about something.
Great, having to pick me up is keeping him from something else that’s more important.
Katy clamped her jaw so tight her teeth ached, but it kept her from bursting into tears.

When Dad pulled into the yard, he finally spoke. “Katy, can you help Caleb with the milking tonight? Rosemary and I need to go to the church and talk to Deacon Pauls about our wedding service, and I’ve got to clean up before I go. I won’t have time if I do the milking.”

So Katy wouldn’t be able to run up to her room and write. She clamped her jaw even tighter and managed a quick nod.

Dad frowned. “Katy-girl, what’s wrong with you?”

If he’d sounded sympathetic instead of irritated, she might have spewed her frustration just to be rid of it. But his tone didn’t invite her to share her thoughts. She snapped,“Nothing.”

Dad’s frown deepened. Katy hopped out of the truck and hurried inside the house before he said anything else. In her room, she threw her backpack into the corner and yanked a work dress from the closet. Minutes later, she stomped down the stairs and charged toward the kitchen, but she stopped when she heard Dad’s voice.

“— surly mood today. I think she’s sulking about the wedding.”

Another voice answered. “Well, Samuel, our marriage will bring so many changes for Kathleen.” Katy recognized Mrs. Graber’s voice. And the woman’s tone held the sympathy Katy had needed from her dad. “She’s bound to be a little upset and worried. We just need to be patient with her while she adjusts.”

Even though Mrs. Graber and Dad were wrong about Katy’s reason to be upset, Katy was glad to hear Mrs. Graber ask Dad to be patient. She tipped her head, listening for Dad’s reply.

“Confused and worried or not, I won’t tolerate a sullen attitude. It’s disrespectful. We shouldn’t have to be subjected to that.”

Katy’s shoulders slumped. Why couldn’t Dad try to understand? Her fingers itched to write, write, write. But she had to milk the cows. She set her feet down hard and made lots of noise as she moved through the house toward the kitchen so they would know she was there. When she entered the kitchen, Dad sent her a warning look, but Mrs. Graber smiled warmly.

“Thank you for filling in for your dad tonight,” Mrs. Graber said. “I brought a casserole, so you won’t need to fix supper too. Will that give you enough time for your homework?”

The woman’s consideration warmed Katy, but for some reason Katy felt a prickle of resentment at the same time. Why should someone not related to her, someone who wasn’t even a friend to her, be so considerate when the people who were supposed to care the most about her—like Dad and her closest friends, Shelby and Bryce — were ignoring her? She swallowed the sadness that filled her throat.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind helping. And yeah, I’ll get my homework done with no problem.”

Dad’s forehead pinched. “Katy, you know I don’t care for slang.”

Katy blinked, trying to think of what she’d said. Then she realized she’d said “yeah” instead of “yes.” She nearly rolled her eyes. Why did Dad have to be so picky? He’d have reason to complain if she brought home some of the other words she’d heard at school. Most of them were a lot worse than “yeah.”

“You might also,” Dad continued,“thank Rosemary for providing supper for us.”

That’ll be her full-time job in another few days,
Katy’s thoughts sniped,
so why should I say thanks?
She was taking her irritation with the kids at school out on Dad. She recognized it, but at that moment she didn’t care enough to correct it. She needed a target, and Dad was available.

“I better get out to the barn. Caleb’ll be here soon.” She brushed past Dad, ignoring his stormy look. As she slammed out the door, she heard Mrs. Graber’s gentle voice: “Give her time, Samuel. She’s —”

Katy didn’t hang around to hear what else Mrs. Graber would say in her defense. When she was halfway across the yard, Caleb’s sedan pulled in. She hurried into the barn rather than wait for Caleb. Katy pulled a pair of Dad’s coveralls over her dress. The zipper proved stubborn, and Caleb strode in and caught her wrestling with it.

He frowned, his freckles crunching together on his forehead. “You’re milking tonight?”

“Yes.” She gave the zipper pull a yank, and it whizzed to her chin. She shot Caleb a challenging look. “Is that a problem?”

He shrugged. “Figure it means I’ll be doing most of the work.”

We’ll just see about that.
“Go honk the horn so the cows know it’s time,” she said then whirled and stomped into the milking room.

The cows lined up, just as they always did, outside the double doors that led to the milking room. They filed in four at a time and stood complacently beside the milking machines. Katy knew the routine so well she could attach
the suction cups and flip the switches in her sleep. But she stayed focused, determined to keep up, cow for cow, with Caleb. Although the February temperature was cold, she worked up a sweat and loosened the zipper on the coveralls midway through milking.

The rumble of the machines made conversation impossible unless they hollered, so she and Caleb worked without speaking. She noticed him glancing across the machines now and then, though, and she thought she saw surprise in his eyes. Although she didn’t really enjoy milking, it gave her satisfaction to disprove his comment about having to carry the workload.

The last cows ambled out, and the milking room seemed deathly quiet with the machines off. Caleb stretched his arms over his head, lifting his chin and rotating his head side to side as if he needed to work out lots of kinks. Katy wanted to do the same thing, but she didn’t. Why should she let Caleb know her back and shoulders ached from the fast pace of the past two hours?

When Caleb finished stretching, he grinned. “You wanna wash down the walls, or do you want me to?”

“Dad usually has you do it, so go ahead,” she retorted, heading for the door to the tank room so she could check the dials and make sure the temperature was adjusted correctly. She didn’t really want to talk to Caleb. After their last conversation, when he’d gotten so angry, she hadn’t even said hello to him when their paths had crossed.

She examined the dials on the big gray tank that always reminded her of an overgrown hippopotamus. Everything looked fine. The sound of water splashing against concrete walls roared, letting her know Caleb was cleaning. He
knew how to do his job — he didn’t need her supervision — so she strode outside. Mrs. Graber’s car still sat in the yard, but Dad’s pickup was gone. For a moment, loneliness struck. She supposed Dad and Mrs. Graber would go off alone together a lot after they were married. She’d better get used to being left behind.

She scuffed up dust with the toes of her tennis shoes as she crossed to the cows’ enclosure and wriggled the latch on the gate just to be sure it was secure. The last thing Dad wanted was one of their cows wandering down the road. She climbed on the bottom rail of the fence and peeked into the feeding boxes. To her relief, Dad had filled the feeders with hay before he left. At least she didn’t need to get all dusty feeding the cows.

Her tasks complete, she returned to the barn to strip off the coveralls and put them on the hook. As she hung them up, Caleb sauntered out of the milking room. He sent her a smirky grin.

“Well, Katydid, I gotta say, you surprised me. Figured by now you’d forgotten how to milk.”

As if I could forget something I’ve done for as long as I can remember.
She chose not to reply. Especially since he’d called her Katydid, a nickname he knew she hated.

He went on,“I told the guys just ‘cause you go to public school, you haven’t forgotten how to be a Mennonite girl. You sure proved it today.”

Katy swung around and stared at Caleb. “Why were you and the guys talking about me?”

Caleb pulled back slightly, his brow puckering. “Guys talk. You know that.”

“But not about
me.
I don’t like it.”

He chuckled and shrugged the coveralls off of his shoulders. “Sorry, not much I can do about that. Guys are gonna talk no matter if you like it or not.” Then he scowled. “But I stood up for you. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

Katy nibbled the inside of her lower lip. It did count. And it bugged her that it counted. Why did it have to be Caleb defending her? Begrudgingly, she nodded. “I suppose. Thanks.”