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Authors: Jerry B. Jenkins,Chris Fabry

Tags: #JUVENILE FICTION / Religious / Christian

Missing Pieces (8 page)

BOOK: Missing Pieces
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Chapter 29

Losing a baby in a fire
had to be the worst thing that could happen to a mother. At lunch the next day I looked for a chance to talk with Mrs. Garcia, but she was busy the whole time. She smiled at me as I went through the line, but that was it.

I saw our principal, Mr. Forster, outside his office during a class change.

“Can I ask you a question about Mrs. Garcia?”

He squinted at me and nodded slowly, as if I could ask but he might not answer.

“I heard what happened to her a few years ago. Do you know why she moved here?”

Mr. Forster looked away, then motioned me back into the main office. “Has she been mean to you?” he said as we walked.

“No, I’ve just been talking with her a little. Finding out stuff.”

He frowned. “I don’t normally talk with students about the staff. If something happens with one of our employees, I want to hear about it, of course. Mrs. Garcia has problems like all of us. This is her third school in the last three years. Some think she shouldn’t be working with the students because of her demeanor. She’s working on it. And she’s a hard worker, always on time.”

“Do you think she’ll be at our school next year?”

From the way he looked at me I knew the conversation was over.

Chapter 30

At youth group Wednesday night,
our leader, Pastor Andy, brought a bunch of watermelons and cut them in three pieces each. We were supposed to use a spoon and create something out of what was left.

I thought I’d just scoop the whole thing out and wear it as a hat, but the more I dug around the edges, the more it looked like a mountain. So I kept going and soon had the likeness of Pikes Peak, which I thought would win.

Wrong. Second place went to a sixth grade boy who carved a 747 (his dad’s a pilot), and first place went to an eighth grade girl who created the image of Abraham Lincoln, complete with the mole on his right cheek.

Show-offs. These were serious watermelon artists.

Then we all went outside and gathered around a big hunk of wood. A man wearing plastic goggles started a chainsaw and moved quickly around the wood, kicking out chips that covered the ground. When he was done, he stepped back and we all gasped. The block of wood had become a beautiful owl sitting on a perch.

Pastor Andy’s point was to show us what even something ordinary can become in the hands of an artist. He encouraged us to give our lives to God, the Artist of the universe, and let him shape us into something great.

Somehow during his talk I figured out how we could catch the mailbox bashers. Randy or not, they had to be caught.

Chapter 31

I cornered Pastor Andy
after the meeting. He has a goofy-looking face with short hair and big ears, but he really cares about kids and we all like him.

Andy has a way of focusing on you and what you’re talking about instead of thinking about the next thing he has to clean up or who else he has to talk to.

“What’s the best way to get a person to open up about their life?” I said.

He raised his eyebrows. “Good question. Who are we talking about?”

Andy looked surprised when I told him. He probably thought I was interested in some guy.

“If you’ve become her friend,” he said, “which it sounds like you have, that’s a great first step. People are a lot more open if you share something personal too. If they sense they can trust you, they’re more likely to talk. Now let me ask you something.”

“Sure.”

“Ashley, is something bothering you? You seem kind of upset or antsy.”

“What do you mean?” I said, my face feeling hot.

“You’re not your usual self. You look kind of serious.”

I thought about the change in medicine and what the doctor had said. All I could do was shrug, and thankfully, Pastor Andy didn’t press me.

Chapter 32

Mom said no to my idea
so fast my head almost spun around. “You’re not sleeping outside on a school night. Besides, it’s dangerous with all the stuff going on.”

I let it drop, then went to Sam. This guy had lived a dangerous life and had admitted to us that in the army he had been trained to kill people. If anybody could talk Mom into letting us investigate another mystery, it was Sam.

“I agree with your mother,” Sam said. “But wait until the weekend, and I’ll put the camper on the back of my truck. You’ll be safer there.”

Thursday morning I took a can of red spray paint and a piece of paper out to our mailbox and created my own masterpiece.

“Looks like a target,” Ashley said.

“You got it,” I said.

Chapter 33

We got out of fourth period early
for lunch because our teacher had a meeting, and the cafeteria was nearly empty. It was the perfect chance to talk with Mrs. Garcia.

I sat with my brown bag and watched as she spoke with the cooks. She finally came to the cash register when a wave of students washed through. I got in line.

“How’s Ashley today?” she said.

“You want the truth or just the smile?”

She looked at me over her glasses. “The truth.”

I sighed. “The truth is, I’m on some new medicine for this seizure thing I have, and it’s hard to get used to. It kind of scares me.”

“Seizures?”

I explained and she listened closely.

“I had no idea,” she said.

“It’s a bummer, but the doctor says I can still grow out of it.”

She asked about the medicine and whether it hurts my stomach. I also told her about the EEGs and that Bryce and I stay up late before my appointments.

The bell rang and the stampede headed our way. I leaned close and whispered, “I found out about your daughter. I’m really sorry.”

The blood drained from her face. “How?”

“Newspapers. I didn’t mean to snoop.”

Her eyes darted around the room as other kids made their way through the food line. She looked like a scared child.

“If you ever want to talk about it—”

She stopped me with one look, and at first I thought I had gone too far. But she said, “After school. Can you stay?”

BOOK: Missing Pieces
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