The Big Picture (11 page)

Charlie, with his arm around his ex-girlfriend, steps away from us with the driver.

I whisper to Frances, “Either they are talking really low or Chelsea’s screeching is too loud, but I can’t hear a word they’re saying.”

She nods. “Very inconsiderate of them.”

A few minutes later, the tow truck drives away, carting Chelsea’s mom’s BMW.

I watch as the boy who could’ve been my boyfriend wraps both arms around Chelsea, pulling her close as she cries against his Abercrombie polo.

I hope she gets snot all over it.

Chapter twelve

PER MILLIE’S INSTRUCTIONS, I CATCH a ride with Frances to the Valiant. Now that my foster mom has started chemo, she’s working a little less at the theatre, so I’ve been picking up some of the slack and helping her out.

“See you in about an hour.” I shut the door of Frances’s station wagon, oddly named Sally Ann. A few raindrops fall on my head, and I look up to see the sky getting darker. Not good.

I step into the Valiant, where George Strait blasts from inside the theatre. Sam is obviously still here.

You know things are bad when a senior citizen has the cheatin’ songs cranked up.

“Where’s Millie?”

Sam jumps at the sound of my voice, and his hammer shoots across the stage. “Dagnabbit!”

I take a step back. “Sorry.”

Is it safe for a child to be around a cranky old man who is listening to depressing country tunes and throwing tools?

He pulls out his red handkerchief and swabs his brow. “No, no, I’m sorry. Didn’t see you standing there.”

I pull myself on stage, sit on the edge, and let my feet dangle. “So . . . how’s it going?”

“Fine. Just fixing a loose board here. Can’t have a performer tripping now, can we?”

“I meant with Maxine. With the ol’ love life.” Maybe we can swap war stories here. Because both of us have totally been shot down in the romance department.

Sam stuffs the handkerchief back into the pocket of his faded khakis. “I have no comment.”

“None?”

“No. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh.” I lean back and let my back rest on the cold floor. I stare up at the ceiling, where a whole world of lights, pulleys, and other magical items are tucked neatly away. “Okay, well, I just thought you might want to vent a little.”

He sniffs. “I have no need. I’m a grown man. I certainly am not going to stand here and share my feelings with a teenage girl like some love-sick puppy.”

“Right. Of course, I — ”

“What is
wrong
with that woman?” Sam slaps the stage, and his nails scatter. “I know I’m not Mr. Excitement. I know I’m not the richest man in Texas. And I’m not exactly . . . er . . . who’s the It-Guy these days? Tom Cruise?”

“Um, not so much.”

“I know I’m not perfect. But neither is she!” He begins to pace. “She’s crazy. She’s an expensive date. She eats enough to feed the Dallas Cowboys. She wears way too much perfume, and I’m always sneezing around her. She has a weird obsession with Frank Sinatra, and she’s
always
running over some poor neighbor child on that ridiculous bicycle of hers.”

I stifle a laugh. And these are Maxine’s good points. “But Sam, isn’t this worth fighting for?”

“Fight? All I’ve done is fight for her.”

I sit up. “She says she just wants some romance. Maybe you need to bring out the big guns.”

“Believe me,” he growls, “I’ve been tempted daily to bring out some big guns.”

A chuckle bubbles out of my mouth. Sam stops pacing and his eyes narrow.

“This funny to you? You think you’re an expert on love?”

“Oh, come on. Don’t get mad at me.” I smile at this man who has become like a grandpa. “Sam, I want to see you and Maxine work this out. You two belong together.” Number one, because I love this guy. And two, because no one else will take her.

Sam slowly shakes his head. “It’s over. I can’t fight this battle or play her games. I am what I am. And I can’t be some Romeo for her.”

“Maybe she’s just scared. Have you ever thought of that?”

Sam’s barking laughter echoes through the theatre. “Maxine isn’t scared of anything.” He laughs some more. “I thought you knew her.”

“Every girl’s afraid of something.” My list of fears could circle the globe at least twice.

He stills and seems to consider this. “Nahhh.” Then walks away.

I jump down and go into the office, where I find Millie hunched over the computer, chewing on a pencil.

“Is that an organic, pesticide-free pencil?”

She starts and makes a grab for her wig resting on the desk. “Hey, kiddo.”

“You don’t have to put that on for me.”

She smiles sheepishly. “It was itchy.” She places it on her head anyway then holds out an arm. I step into her hug and give her a squeeze. “Good day at school?”

“Yeah.” Minus the Charlie drama. Minus the English project hanging over my head. “Can you take me back up to the school in a bit though? We’re going to get signatures for Bubba’s Big Picture.”

Millie clucks her tongue. “That mayor. He has no sense of tradition.”

“Let’s go toilet paper his house!”

“Ah, no.” She pats my hip. “You know I only do that on weekends, and today, my dear, is only Monday.”

“Tucker’s Grocery has a great deal on some double rolls.”

“So tempting, but — ”

Fergie sings from my back pocket, and I grab my cell phone. “Hello? Oh . . . hi, Mom.”

Millie stands up, mouths something, points toward the door, then leaves.

“Um . . . yeah, I’m okay. How are you?” This is the first time my mom’s called me since I landed in In Between. I should probably write this down somewhere. A calendar, a journal.
Guinness World Records
.

“Yeah, that’s great. James told me you passed the test. What?” My heart thunders in my chest. “What do you mean I’ll be home in a month?” I sit down in Millie’s rollie-chair. “Oh, really. No, I guess the Scotts forgot to mention they’d talked to you again.” Or kept it from me. What is up with that? I thought we had worked all this stuff out — I am not to be kept in the dark about anything that goes on in this family anymore.
Especially
when it has to do with me. The Scotts are tight-lipped people, but they
promised
me they wouldn’t shut me out anymore.

“No, of course I think that’s . . . good. You know, it will just be sad to leave the Scotts and everyone.”
I have a life here, Mom. Because you bailed on me. Remember that?
“Yes, I know
you’re
my mother.” Believe me, I’ve tried to blot it from my memory many times, but it never worked. Like that time I had to go throw clothes on her when she was passed out, spread-eagle in her skivvies on hole number four at the local putt-putt course. Just my mom in her underwear and bra under a three-foot windmill, as “Wild Thing” piped out of some fake rock. She was too heavy to move, so all I could do was cover her up until the police got there and did their thing.

“Yeah, I know you’re having to make big adjustments too. What? You met a guy at your addiction meeting?” How romantic. My love life,
or lack of, is all starting to make sense now. I clearly inherited a bad relationship gene. “Um . . . don’t you think that’s moving a little fast?”
And couldn’t you find a boyfriend somewhere a bit safer? Like at a
Star Trek
convention or something?
Who gets out of prison and dates a fellow recovering addict? I thought there were rules against that.

“I realize you’re the mother and I’m the daughter. Right, you know best.” I would laugh at this, but she really believes it. “Look, Mom, I gotta go. Be careful, okay? Just focus on getting back on your feet.” We exchange some final good-byes, and I hang up the phone.

And sit there.

Unmoving.

My days at In Between are numbered. I mean, I knew they were, but now, they
really
are. Unless my mom screws this up, I have about a month left here. The Scotts had to know about this.

“Millie!” I rush out of the office and run into the theatre.

My foster mom stops her conversation with Sam and turns around, her brow furrowed. “What is it?”

“My mom says I’m going home in a month.”

Millie sends Sam a meaningful look. “Will you excuse us, please?”

Sam gathers his tools and leaves us alone.

“Katie, we didn’t want you to — ”

“Worry. Yeah, I know the line. I’ve
heard
it a few dozen times.” I stomp my foot like I’m five. “When you hid Amy and her crazy life from me, you said that was the end of secrets. When you hid the breast cancer from me, you said that was the end of secrets. Why do you do this to me?” My words are broken on a sob. “I deserved to know this.”

“Honey — ” Millie reaches out, but I step away. “This time was different, really.”

“How?” I’m practically yelling.

Millie just shakes her head, looking at the ground like she’s searching for words. “It wasn’t about keeping things from you. It was about protecting you.”

I give her my best
whatever
face.

“Katie, James and I have been keeping track of your mother ever since you came to stay with us.”

My eyes widen. What?

“We had no reason to think she’d be released from prison. And honestly, no reason to think, given her track record, she would . . .”

“Come back for me?” I swipe away a tear.

“That she would pass her drug tests or be given custody so soon. For most people it doesn’t work that way, but your mother’s case got bungled up, and the evidence couldn’t be used. Bobbie Ann started the process of regaining custody as soon as she got out apparently.”

“And you didn’t think I, of all people, needed to know that?”

“She never contacted you until a couple weeks ago.” Millie’s eyes fill with her own unshed tears. I look away, unable to witness her — and with pity. “I just couldn’t believe a mother would never pick up the phone and call her child. Couldn’t believe a mother who was serious about getting her daughter back would miss out on seeing you onstage.” Millie pulls a Kleenex out of her pocket and dabs her nose. “I guess I didn’t want to believe.”

Her words are like Kryptonite, and I’m almost powerless against them. But still, this was my future, my entire world we’re talking about. I deserved to know what was going on in it.

“I need to go to the school now,” I whisper. “Can we please just go?”

Chapter thirteen

IT’S EVERYTHING I CAN DO not to slam Millie’s car door. The hurting brat in me just wants to have a total Veruca Salt meltdown.

I watch her sedan drive away, and I stand in the school parking lot, feeling totally alone, even though I seem to have an overabundance of parents these days.

“Katie?”

Charlie comes up behind me, and with a hand on my shoulder, he turns me toward him. His gray eyes seem to assess every detail of my face.

“What? Is Chelsea the only girl who gets to have a bad day?” And I stomp off to stand next to Frances and Nash.

Frances, whose nose is buried in a clipboard, briefly glances my way. Her head drops then immediately shoots back up. “
What
happened to you?”

“What?”

“Your face. It’s all splotchy. And you have mascara . . .” She trails her fingers under her eyes.

I wipe at my face. “It’s nothing. Let’s just get this over with, okay? The sooner we get started, the less likely we’ll get rained out. A storm
is moving in later tonight.” I feel like one’s already hit. A stinkin’ tsunami.

I ignore Charlie as we wait an additional ten minutes for Hannah and about ten other classmates to show up.

“This is it?” Frances asks, surveying our group. “I invited practically the whole school. Where is their Chihuahua pride? Where is their loyalty to Bubba’s? Where is their heart, their — ”

“Um, Frances?” I tap my watch. “Burning daylight.”

“Right.” She sighs. “All right, while we would cover more ground by traveling solo, my dad will kill me if we don’t use the buddy system, so I will partner you off.”

She consults her hot pink clipboard and assigns pairs. “Bowen and Elmore. Valentine and Marshall. Parker and Benson.”

I grit my teeth. Charlie and I together in his truck? Fabulous. Less than five hours ago I watched this boy wrap his long arms around skinny little Chelsea as she sobbed into his shoulder, and
now
I have to ride with him?

I approach my friend. “Frances, I — ”

“It’s an order, Parker.”

I shut my mouth. “Okay.” I’m too tired to fight anyway.

She leans in, her voice low. “That was my Coach Nelson impression. How’d I do?”

“Pretty convincing.”

“You okay?”

My smile wobbles. “Fine.”

Her eyes narrow behind her glasses. “That
wasn’t
convincing.”

“Let’s just get going. I’ll explain everything later. And I will be plotting my revenge later too.”

She smiles. “For what?”

I jerk my head toward Charlie Benson.

As he unlocks my door, Charlie casts a cautious glance in my direction. “I know you’re mad at me.”

I climb in and stretch for my seatbelt. “Actually, Charlie, though it
may bruise your ego, you’re pretty low on my list of concerns right now.” And this door I slam.

We drive to the first street Frances has highlighted for us on our map of In Between. When Charlie puts the car in park at the first house, I bail out, leaving him in my dust. I knock on the door, and it swings open, revealing a small old woman in a muumuu. She looks like someone’s grandma who bakes cookies and mends socks.

“Hello, I’m Katie Parker, and I wanted to — ”

Slam!

Hmm
. So that’s what it feels like.

“No luck?”

Charlie steps up behind me.

“Did you see me get a signature?”

With hands on my shoulders, he stops me from stepping off the porch. “I didn’t see anything except your tail running out of my truck. We’re a team here, Parker. Don’t go off by yourself.”

“Whatever.”

“You either work with me, or I’m taking you back home. It’s not safe to be running up to doors by yourself.”