Take Charge (20 page)

“Let’s meet at the clubhouse later,” said Morgan cheerfully. “After everyone has had a chance to dry off and get some lunch. How about two o’clock?”

They agreed and took off to their separate homes. No one was at Amy’s house, which wasn’t unusual. Amy was
accustomed to having her parents gone most of the time. The restaurant really was their second home. In fact — as Amy had been told dozens of times — her family used to actually live in the small apartment above the restaurant. Now it was used for storage. But that happened long before she was born. And according to her mother, Amy had been born “after life got easy.” Probably another reason her mother thought she was spoiled. But today, Amy wasn’t sure she agreed with her mother’s definition of “easy.”

Amy showered and changed and warmed up some leftover fried rice and chicken, eating it while standing and looking out the window, just staring at the never-ending rain. “Why did it have to rain today, God?” she asked between bites. “Couldn’t you have given us sunshine instead?”

Then she finished up and headed over to the bus. Morgan was the only one there so far, and she was already busily beading. But Amy was glad to go inside and flop down on the couch, and before long the other girls joined them. Even Chelsea had begged her mom to drive her back over and drop her off. And for the rest of the day they just hung together, making beaded necklaces and bracelets and eating some of Amy’s cookies. They listened to old vinyl records and the sound of the rain steadily beating on the roof of the bus, but no one spoke about the city park or the unfinished project. In some ways the
atmosphere reminded Amy of a funeral. Not that she’d been to many. But it felt as if something had died today … maybe just her dream.

On Sunday afternoon, Chelsea’s mom gave them a ride up to Viola McPhearson’s house. “I wish I could see it too,” she said as she dropped them off in the driveway and looked up at the tall dark house.

“Sorry, Mom,” said Chelsea. “But we’re the only ones invited.”

Her mom laughed. “Well, you girls have fun, and call me when you need a ride home.”

The girls slowly walked up to the front door. Amy couldn’t help but think this was a total waste of time. Especially since the editor hadn’t even used Miss McPhearson’s letter in the paper yesterday. Right now, Amy held very little hope that they would be able to finish the park renovation on time. Maybe she should just be up front with Miss McPhearson — simply explain that things weren’t going so well and apologize for failing.

“This place is really spooky,” said Morgan as Amy rang the doorbell.

“I think it’s
mysterious
,” said Emily with a sly grin. “I could write a great short story about a place like this.”

“I think it’s cool,” said Carlie as she looked at a gangly rosebush. “But the Dragon Lady needs to hire someone to tend her yard. It’s really overgrown.”

“Remember not to call her that,” Amy warned.

Just then Cara opened the door and ushered them in. But instead of going to the library, Cara took them to a different room. Maybe it was a parlor. Amy wasn’t sure. But unlike the dark library, this room was a bit lighter, and the heavy velvet drapes were fully open to reveal what would be a stunning view of the ocean if it wasn’t all gray and dreary out there.

“Sit down,” said Cara. “Miss McPhearson will come soon.”

“This looks like the set of a movie,” said Chelsea as she sat in a chair covered with faded tapestry. “All this old stuff.”

“Can’t you just imagine a stack of dead bodies down in the basement?” whispered Emily. “Old bones with chains shackled around them and —”

“Emily!” Morgan used a warning tone. “I’ve already got the creeps, thank you very much.”

Emily giggled. “Sorry.”

Just then Miss McPhearson came into the room. Once again, she had on the same gray skirt, but her cardigan was pale pink today, and she’d taken the time to tie a scarf around her neck.

“Hello, ladies,” she said in her low, gruff voice. “I see that you’ve made yourselves comfortable.” She looked at Amy. “Are you going to introduce me to your friends, Amy Ngo?”

Amy stood and formally introduced her friends to Miss McPhearson.

“You are quite a mixed bag, aren’t you?” said Miss McPhearson as she sat down in a big red armchair. “Not that I’m a bigot. I’m not. I am a very open-minded woman.”

Amy frowned at her.

“Oh, have I offended Amy Ngo?” asked Miss McPhearson. “And here I thought you were a woman who liked to speak her mind too?”

Amy looked directly at Miss McPhearson now. “You’re right, I do like to speak my mind. But I know as well as anyone that my words can be offensive if I’m not careful.”

“That’s true,” said Morgan, winking at her. “Amy has offended me a few times.”

“Me too,” said Emily.

“So perhaps Amy Ngo and I have a similar problem,” said Miss McPhearson with a slightly wicked-looking smile.

“You have a lovely home,” said Carlie.

“Really?” Miss McPhearson peered at her through her big, thick glasses. “You like it?”

Carlie nodded. “Yes. But I think you should hire a landscaper.”

“You could hire Carlie,” suggested Emily. “She’s an excellent gardener.”

“She is?” Miss McPhearson looked from one to the next. “I’m starting to think you are some extraordinary young ladies.” Her gaze stopped on Amy. “Just what makes you all so special, I’d like to know?”

Amy considered this. “Maybe it’s because we’re friends.”

“Friends,” said Miss McPhearson. “Harrumph.”

Emily giggled.

“You think I’m funny?”

“No,” said Emily quickly. “I just get the giggles sometimes. Usually when I’m nervous.”

“Well, tell me, Emily Adams, what is special about you?”

Emily stared blankly back at her.

“I’ll tell you what’s special about Emily,” said Morgan. “She writes poetry and short stories, she solved a big mystery, and she’s an excellent friend.”

Miss McPhearson nodded, looking at Morgan now. “So, what is special about you, Morgan Evans? What sets you apart?”

“She’s a designer,” said Carlie quickly. “She designs jewelry and clothes, and she made our bus look totally cool.”

“Your
bus
?” Miss McPhearson frowned. “You girls aren’t old enough to drive a bus.”

So Amy explained the bus clubhouse. The other girls contributed some information, and then Cara brought the tea things in. It became very quiet as the girls drank tea and
ate cookies. And finally Miss McPhearson stood up. “That will be all,” she said. “I am worn out and need my rest.”

Amy blinked, but remembered her manners and thanked her for inviting them to tea. The other girls thanked her too. And then Miss McPhearson left.

“Guess I better call my mom,” said Chelsea.

“I told you,” said Amy, “she’s kind of different.”

“I like her,” said Emily. “I think she’s interesting. And I think she has some tragic story for why she lives all alone like this. I think perhaps she had a true love who went off to war and never came home.”

“Maybe his name was Dan Watterson,” teased Morgan.

“Who’s that?” asked Chelsea.

“Mr. Greeley’s son. The one who died in the Gulf War,” said Emily. “And no, it wouldn’t be him. He’d have been half her age. Her true love would’ve died in a different war.”

“Like maybe the Civil War,” teased Carlie.

The girls all chattered as Chelsea’s mom drove them back into town, telling her about all the antiques and how the staircase went up several stories and how strange the Dragon Lady was, but that she also seemed interesting. Everyone talked except for Amy.

Amy just wanted to think. Although she wasn’t quite sure what to think — about anything. She had meant to tell Miss McPhearson about their disappointing fund-raising
efforts yesterday, to prepare the old woman for the possibility that they might not succeed at their project — to warn her that in a couple of weeks there could be city bulldozers turning the McPhearson Park into an ugly parking lot. Of course, Amy hated to admit failure at anything. In fact, she couldn’t even remember the last time she had actually failed. Still, there seemed no way to make this thing work out right. She might as well accept it.

She did wonder how God fit into this picture. How could it be that she had prayed — they all had prayed — and things still didn’t seem to be turning out right? But here was the really strange part — she didn’t feel totally bummed by this. Oh, sure, she was humiliated and didn’t like admitting failure, but it wasn’t the end of the world. Maybe it was because God was changing something inside her. Or maybe it was because she’d gone to church with An this morning, and everyone there had been so warm and welcoming to her. But whatever it was, she knew something was different, and it was a good kind of different. And despite this total sense of failure, she knew she was going to be okay.

It rained for a solid week. So much so that standing water made it impossible to do anything in the park on Saturday. Not that the girls could do much since they had no money. And it was too wet to drive up the muddy logging roads into the woods to get plants.

“It looks totally hopeless,” said Amy as the girls met on Saturday afternoon. “I think it’s time to give up on Save Our Park.”

“The park looked like a great big lake when we drove through town just now,” said Chelsea. “My mom thinks it might be just as well.”

“My parents are happy too,” said Amy sadly. “My mother is already counting how many cars can fit into the new parking lot.”

“Well, at least the editor ran an apology to Amy today,” said Morgan. “Did you guys see the paper?”

“Yeah,” said Chelsea, “a little late, don’t you think?”

“He said it was a slipup,” said Amy.

“Whatever …”

“It was a nice article,” said Emily. “It actually sounded as if he was sorry.”

“It was still too late,” said Chelsea.

“My dad said the weather is supposed to change tomorrow,” said Carlie. “It’s supposed to be sunny all week.”

“Great,” said Amy. “The park will probably be nice and dry just in time for the bulldozers to move in and flatten the whole thing.”

“My dad said he could take us to the woods on Monday,” continued Carlie, the only one who still seemed to be holding on to hope. “It’s Columbus Day, you know, no school. We could dig up some things to transplant into the park.”

“What good would that do?” asked Chelsea.

“I don’t know …” Carlie frowned. “But it might be fun.”

“Our last-ditch effort,” said Morgan with a sigh.

“Let’s do it!” said Amy suddenly. “Sure, it might be a waste of time, but let’s do it. One last effort.”

“We’ll go down fighting,” said Chelsea, catching her enthusiasm.

“That’s the spirit,” said Carlie. “And I was looking at that spot where the park sign used to be and thought we could put it back into place and plant some things around it. And I have some flowers I can transplant from my own garden. I mean, I know it’s a small thing, but maybe people would see it and get the idea that it could be a pretty place again.”

“It’s worth a try,” agreed Morgan.

“If nothing else, it could be like a memorial to the park,” said Emily in a solemn tone. “A reminder to everyone of what could’ve been.”

So it was decided they would meet at Carlie’s house at seven on Monday morning. Amy had little hope that it would make any difference, but she did like Chelsea’s comment about going down fighting. Why not?

The girls worked harder than ever on Monday morning, each of them fully filling their permit limit with plants they dug from the woods. They brought bag lunches and ate on the road as Mr. Garcia drove them back to town. By the time they were at the park, the sun was shining warmly overhead, and even though the ground was still pretty soggy, it did make the digging easier. Carlie’s dad stayed to help, and by six o’clock they had all the shrubs and trees replanted.

“It looks really pretty,” said Amy as they stood back to look at the entrance to the park.

“I can’t believe it,” said Chelsea. “It looks like a professional landscaper was here.”

“Carlie’s flowers really brighten it up too,” said Morgan.

Then Amy looked out at the rest of the park, which still looked a bit like a war zone. “If only we had enough time to get to the rest of it.”

“There’s no way,” said Chelsea. “I mean, this little corner here took us a whole day to do. We don’t have money
and we don’t have time … There’s no way.”

“It is kind of like a memorial,” said Emily.

“Let’s pray,” said Morgan.

Then all five girls joined hands, and Morgan led them in a prayer. “Dear heavenly Father,” she said, “we’ve done everything we could to preserve this park, but it’s just not enough. We know that you’re able to do anything, and we believe that if you want to save this park, you can make it happen. You are God of the impossible, and as far as we can see, this project really is impossible. So we give it to you now. Amen.”

The other girls said “Amen,” and Carlie’s dad backed up his pickup so they could start loading their tools into it. But before they got in, they heard someone calling them. “Wait up!”

They turned to see Gary Hardwick from the newspaper approaching them. “Hey, Amy! Can I get a photo of you guys?”

Amy looked at her friends. They were all covered with mud, literally from head to toe. “We’re not really looking our best,” she told him.

He grinned. “It’s okay. You’ve been working hard. And I thought maybe I could run another little story in the paper about what you’ve tried to do.”

“Even though we failed?” asked Amy.

He frowned. “Well, maybe it’ll make some of these businesspeople think.”

“Okay,” said Amy.

“It’ll give the kids at school something to talk about,” said Chelsea. “They already call us the park pigs, and today we really look like it.”

“They call you the park pigs?” asked Gary as he adjusted his camera lens.

“Yeah,” said Morgan. “Most of the mouthiest kids at school think this town needs a parking lot too.”

“It’s been an uphill battle all the way,” said Amy.

“That’s too bad,” he said. “Okay, now squeeze together a little closer and say cheese.” They complied and he took the shot. “I’ll try to get this story into Tuesday’s paper,” he told them.