Lucy Doesn't Wear Pink (26 page)

She skipped past that. It hurt too much to think about J.J. right now.

Lucy stopped and rested her hand. Wow. She’d written a whole paragraph. And she hated to write. But there was more.

“You are up late.”

Lucy jumped and slapped the Book of Lists closed and stuck it under her thigh.

Artemis crouched as if she were stalking Inez. Lucy felt like Inez was stalking
her
, gliding without a sound to the other end of the Napping Couch.

“The Sleep escapes you?” Inez said.

Lucy had a picture of dreams scampering away, and she nodded.

“It escapes me too.” Inez nodded toward Lucy’s lap. “It does not escape the dangerous one.”

Lucy ran her hand over Marmalade’s back. “She’s not really dangerous. I guess you figured that out.”

“But Mora is. It is best to be careful.”

Lucy swallowed guiltily.

“You are writing.”

The guilt disappeared, and Lucy went stiff. She didn’t care what Inez said, she wasn’t showing her the book —

“I often write my troubles when they are tangled,” Inez said. “Show God the knots, and he will untangle them.”

“I wasn’t writing to God.” Lucy felt the corner of the book poking at her backside cheek. “I was just — making a list. Of stuff.”

“Lists are good.”

It was quiet, except for Marmalade’s purring and something bubbling on the stove.

“Warm milk,” Inez said. “We will drink it with nutmeg.”

“Oh,” Lucy said. The book was really boring into her now. She inched it out and propped it beside her.

Inez folded her hands neatly. “I write in a book. It is — hmm — it last a long time.”

“Yeah,” Lucy said with surprise. “I’m going to keep this forever.”

“Good.”

It didn’t seem right not to say something back.

“Sometimes I write about what I don’t like.”

“God wants to hear about that, yes.”

“God?” Lucy said.

“My book is sometimes how I talk to God.”

Lucy put the book on top of Marmalade, who didn’t budge, and fingered the gold leaves. “I didn’t know I was talking to God.”

“You tell the truth when you write?”

Lucy pulled the book to her chest. Inez almost smiled.

“I see that you are. We must protect our secrets.”

At the moment, Lucy wished only a password would open the Book of Lists. And yet, it didn’t feel like Inez was going to grab it from her.

“If you write honest thoughts, you talk to God. Your thoughts they have been answered?”

“Huh?”

“Look. Think.”

Inez glided off to the kitchen, and Lucy f lipped through the pages. Aunt Karen hadn’t moved to Australia yet. Lucy still missed her mom. Although she had to admit she couldn’t make flan or machaca or make the Bible better than Disney, she could get along without Inez just like she did before. Right?

But she no longer wanted to f lush the soccer team down the toilet. She didn’t really have an attitude anymore. And most of her reasons for hating school weren’t that true now.

That was because of God? Even though she’d never thought of him while she was making her lists except to blame him for all the rotten stuff?

“He thinks of you,” Inez said.

Lucy looked up with a start. Inez put a cup of something that smelled amazing into her hand.

“When you think of him also, that is even better.”

Lucy looked down at the last thing she’d written.

“God can tell me what kind of girl to be?” Lucy said.

“He has already.”

Lucy leaned in, ready to ask, ready to listen. But the back door opened, and Lucy heard Dad’s cane tapping on the floor. Inez said, “We are here, Senor Rooney.”

Dad appeared with his coat still on and his face drawn into straight lines.

“Luce, you still up?”

“Sleep escaped me,” Lucy said.

Dad smiled, but there was no sunlight. He sank into his chair, and Lucy joined him on the arm, leaving Marmalade and the Book of Lists on the Napping Couch.

“They won’t pay for our equipment, right?” she said.

“It’s worse than that, I’m afraid, champ.”

How could it be? She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear.

“A big corporation has offered to buy the property where the old soccer field is and put a gas station there.”

“We already have a gas station.”

“This is going to be the gas station to end all gas stations, evidently. There will be a grocery store, a Pizza Hut — ”

“We don’t need that! We have Pasco’s and Mr. Benitez’s!”

“This’ll be for travelers passing through,” Dad said. “They plan to open up a major road from the highway. It’s a big deal.”

Lucy stood up. “They can’t take our soccer field, Dad.”

“They can if the town of Los Suenos sells it to them. The council says we need the money to fix our roads, improve our schools.” He sounded like he was reading something from a paper. It wasn’t Dad being convinced, and Lucy’s heart plummeted all the way to her belly.

“Nothing is going to happen yet — the council hasn’t decided. But needless to say, they weren’t eager to put up the money for soccer equipment if there isn’t going to be a field to play on.”

“That’s not fair!”

“You are absolutely right.” Dad felt for Lucy’s hand and then dropped his to the arm of the chair. “But whoever promised us fair?”

So that was it. Her dream was gone before it ever emerged from the mist of her mind. Lucy felt so heavy all she wanted to do was lie down. She picked up her book and headed down the hall. Soft footsteps followed her.

“Make the list for God about this,” Inez said. And then she disappeared down the yellow rug.

What was God going to do about it?

Lucy headed into her room and tripped over Mora’s bag stuffed with dance equipment. It irritated Lucy right up the back of her neck.

Mora lived in a big town. She got to do what she wanted because people cared about kids there. How was Lucy supposed to get people like Mr. Benitez to vote for cleats?

But she wanted that more than anything. And if nobody else was going to do anything about it, how could it hurt to ask God? He’d done a few things lately, maybe —

She took a f lashlight out of the toy chest and sat up on her bed. With the light clamped between her propped-up knees, she wrote:

Lucy licked at the tears that trailed over her lips. And then she wrapped her arms around her book and fell asleep with the lists — and maybe God — up close to her heart.