The Big Picture (19 page)

Millie hugs me again. “Well, if you’re not going to fill your boxes, then start getting beautiful for dinner. You have an hour. Of course, if you get ready at the same rate you pack, we won’t get to leave until midnight.”

I force a smile. “Very funny.”

“Where are we going?” Maxine sweeps into the room, her hair in curlers. “Somewhere fancy?”

Millie laughs as her mom joins us on the bed, parking her rump on my other side. “Only the best for Katie. We’re getting out of In Between and heading to that steak house on the lake.”

“Oh, dining on the water. How romantic.” Maxine digs out more seating room by shoving the dog away with her butt.

“Has it ever occurred to you that your idea of romance is overrated and unrealistic?” I dare to ask.

My foster grandmother huffs. “Says the girl who’s been alive a whopping sixteen years.”

“Almost seventeen.” My birthday’s in August.

“Ohhh, excuse me. Almost seventeen.” She levels her nose with mine. “A little candlelight, roses, and sweet nothings whispered in my ear are not too much to expect from a man. Just look at William — ”

Ick.
“I’d rather not.”

“He’s not all that bad, Katie.” Though Maxine’s tone doesn’t sound like even she’s completely convinced. “He did agree to let Buford Hollis have the rest of the summer to raise the funds to save his drive-in.”

I snort. “Yeah, because he’s been getting truckloads of hate mail ever since the news ran the footage of Crowley cornering us on the rooftop.” And my injury sealed the deal. The town really felt sorry for me. And instead of blaming it on Buford and his dilapidated building, they threw all the responsibility on the mayor. Not sure if four to six weeks on crutches was worth it, but it definitely made Frances’s year.

ASIDE FROM MY ANKLE THROBBING, DINNER is a totally awesome affair, with me eating more than my own body weight in shrimp and steak. And then the dessert cart arrives, and Millie lets us order one of everything.

As I take a bite of chocolate mousse mixed with a bite of strawberry shortcake — okay, and a bite of tiramisu — I shut my eyes and savor the flavors. It will be a long, long time before I have good food again. I want to remember this moment of decadence. Maybe I should wrap up a piece of cheesecake and put it in my purse. Like Maxine’s doing.

“We thought we’d stop by the Valiant — give you a moment to say good-bye.” James looks at me over the rim of his coffee cup.

“Yeah . . . that would be nice.” So many things, so many people to say good-bye to. Everyone says, “It’s not good-bye. It’s just good-bye for now.” But yeah, it is. I know it’s good-bye — for good.

“Open your present.” Maxine claps her hands, her face intent on the box that’s been sitting in front of me all night.

I glance at James and Millie, who nod in agreement.

“I didn’t get you guys anything.” Yet another thing for me to feel rotten about.

“You are our gift, Katie.” The candles highlight Millie’s warm smile. “Open it.”

I slip my finger under a corner of the pink and brown paper, knowing it was lovingly wrapped by my foster mom and that she was thinking of me even when picking out the paper.

The wrapping falls away and reveals my present. “A camera!” I rip into the box and pull out a small, flat digital camera. “I love it!”

“The batteries and memory card are already in it,” James says. “Take a picture.”

I turn the power on and hold the camera up. “Something’s not right. It’s just a blur in the lens.”

“Mom, get out of the way.”

I lower my camera and see Maxine leaning over the table, her face a centimeter away. “I thought you’d want a close up.”

“Not of your nose hairs.” I lean back in my chair. “You guys get together.” And I snap a few pictures.

“Oh, waiter?” Millie hails our server. “Would you take a picture of our family?”

We all lean toward the center of the table, and I smile, surrounded by the people who have created a home for me. Who have changed my life. Who know me better than my own mother. And who have made a mark on my life bigger than any of Angelina Jolie’s tattoos.

On the ride to the Valiant, I watch In Between pass me by, and it’s everything I can do not to demand James stop the car and let me out so I can photograph every building, street, and store I see.

I clutch my camera as James helps me out of the Honda and onto my crutches.

James holds the door open for me, and I run my hand down the wooden panels as I pass through into the darkened lobby. The Valiant and I go way back. It was here that I met Sam Dayberry. It was at this theatre that I worked my tail off when I first arrived — and got myself hauled downtown and in some serious trouble. And it was on this stage that I fell into the part of Juliet and discovered myself in the Valiant spotlight.

“Let me get the door and the lights.” James steps in front of me and swings the theatre doors wide.

“
Surprise!
” I teeter on my crutches as the lights flare to life, and I’m greeted by the voices of what must be half of the town. Cameras flash in my eyes, and I struggle to close my gaping mouth.

Frances steps forward and hugs me tight.

“For me?” I whisper in her ear.

She holds me at arm’s length. “For you, Katie Parker. Come on, see who all’s here.”

For the next forty-five minutes I hobble all over the theatre, receiving well-wishes and parting advice.

And every time someone hugs me or pats my back, I come that much closer to losing it — to throwing myself on the floor and begging
these people not to let me go.

But it would just be really awkward with my cast, so probably not worth it.

I mingle through the crowd, laughing and reminiscing with the newly divorced Mrs. Hall, my drama teacher, who’s here with a date, an artsy-looking fellow. I lecture Nash on taking care of my best friend in my absence. And I promise Pastor Mike and his wife I will find a church home in Middleton.

“Hey, remember me?” Brian Diamatti steps forward, wearing a
Frodo Rocks
T-shirt, and engulfs me in a bear hug. “I wrote a special good-bye song for you.”

“Oh.” I smile. “How nice.” Do
not
break out the musical instruments.

“It’s called ‘Katie is a Lady.’”

I laugh. “Wow, and so . . . deep, too.”

“Katie — ”

I turn around to find my English teacher, Ms. Dillon. “Thanks for coming.” I can’t believe all these people are here. For me.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.” She reaches into her giant purse and pulls out a stack of papers. “Your final. I thought you might want it.”

“Oh. Okay.” I guess.

She grins, revealing perfect, Jessica Simpson teeth. “It’s not done.”

“But I’ve already received my grade. It was totally done.”

“Nope.” She lays her hand at my back. “I want you to do the bonus point assignment — to write about your future. Even though it’s too late for credit, I feel your story is not complete. There’s still more to tell.”

I roll the paper into a tube. “Ten pages says done to me.”

She adjusts her bag and waves at someone across the room. “Nope. Finish the assignment this summer and e-mail it to me.”

I open my mouth to politely refuse.

“The paper isn’t done — and neither are you.” And with a wink, my English teacher dissolves into the masses and leaves me standing there.

Feeling a little fatigued at all the hugging and socializing, I go in search of a piece of cake at the refreshment table.

“Nice replica of a Chihuahua, eh?” Maxine puts her plate down and cuts me a slice. “Corner piece, right?”

I smile. She knows me so well. “I can’t believe you were able to keep this a secret.”

“I beg your pardon?
Moi?
Of course I could be counted on to keep this secret.”

“When did they tell you?”

She stuffs a bite of cake between her lips. “About thirty minutes ago.”

I kiss her cheek and we giggle like the girls that we are. “Sam just got here.” I look toward the door. “Maybe you should take him a piece of cake.”

Maxine snorts. “Yeah, like the Chihuahua’s butt.”

I grab her wrist. “Maxine, take him a piece of cake.”

“What if he’s with Betty Lou?”

“Maxine — ”

“All right,” she says on a sigh. “But that rat-tailed hussy had better not be here tonight. I’m not in the mood to duke it out.”

Oh, young love.

I peek into a galvanized bucket on the table and feel tears spring to my eyes. There in their iced-down glory, are as many Diet Dr Peppers as a girl could possibly want. This I need a picture of.

With piercing regret, I leave the drinks alone, knowing I can’t carry a plate
and
a can, and amble my way backstage.

Setting my cake down, I place both crutches under my right armpit and, holding onto the rail, hobble my way up the steps. I take a resting breath or two at the top, then walk onto the stage, behind the curtains.

I look toward the ceiling and then find the location the spotlight would fall on.

This is it. This is the spot where my life became possible. Sure, I
got saved at church, but on another level — I got saved right here. This place is like church to me. It’s holy. I love the smell, the sounds. And I will cling to the memories of the Valiant for all my days. This is where I was the love of Romeo’s life. And it was here I was in
Cinderella
. Okay, I was the ugly stepsister — with a hideous prosthetic nose — but still, I delivered an Academy-worthy performance.

And now . . . my time here is done. I look down at the scarred black floor and wonder if this is the last time my feet will ever touch it.

I jump as the floor creaks behind me, and there stands Charlie Benson.

“Hey. You scared me.” I was having a moment here — with my stage.

He sticks his hands in his jean pockets. His lips lift in a cautious smile. “Sorry. Frances was looking for you a minute ago. I figured you’d be up here.”

My eyes pan the stage area again, and I inhale deeply. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

Charlie steps closer to rest a hand on my crutch. His eyes pull me in. “Very pretty.”

“Charlie, I — ”

“Katie — ” Our words mesh and overlap.

“You first.” Tingles race along my spine. I can’t believe he’s not out of my system yet.

His gray eyes drop to the floor, and I think he’s not going to speak. Then finally, “I know I overreacted at the drive-in a few weeks ago.”

“Yeah, you did.” I am not letting you off easy.

“I don’t want to end things on a bad note. I don’t want you to leave and there be this dark blot on our friendship.”

There’s that F word again. But I guess I’ll take friendship.

He runs a tanned hand through his hair. “I was upset you had told Chelsea what you knew about her dad.” His voice drops. “I trusted you with that information. I hadn’t shared that with anyone else.”

“But I didn’t — ”

“I know you were mad at me. I get that now. We do stupid things when we’re mad.”

Oh, I can think of a few right now. “That’s not how it went down, Charlie.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Yes, it does. Did Chelsea tell you what she said to — ”

“We talked about it. She’s forgiven you. I’ve forgiven you.”

My face burns. “How kind.” My fingers itch to totally take him out with my crutch. “Look, I don’t think you have the story straight, so — ”

“I’m sorry I let you go, Katie.”

I close my mouth on some gospel truth about Chelsea. “What?”

Charlie’s hands move up my arms and onto my shoulders where they rest. His eyes lock onto mine. “I’m sorry I walked away from us. I did need to help Chelsea — still do. But I think I was just running scared too.”

“You? Scared?” Great, now I’m reduced to single syllable responses.

“It’s taken me a while to get it. But that morning I pulled you from the roof of the snack bar . . .”

“Yeah?” Am I drooling yet?

“I was standing below, and I was thinking about how mad I was at you, wondering why I was even there.”

I nod my head as he rubs my arms. “And then I heard you scream and the wood split. I was panicked. But then I heard you yelling at Frances, and I knew you were probably okay.”

“Uh-huh.” He smells so good.

“And I realized none of it mattered — not our fights, not our past relationships, not even Chelsea.”

Wait a minute — Chelsea doesn’t matter? Can I get that in writing — like in blood?

“I made a huge mistake by shutting you out when I befriended Chelsea again. But when I pulled you off the rooftop, it hit me that you
were different. Before I had just dated Chelsea. And before Chelsea, a girl who could’ve been her twin. But you . . . you were . . . you.” He smiles and steps closer. “I realized I had never felt that way about a girl before — ” Charlie leans in until our lips are a breath apart. His gaze travels to my mouth. “Until you.”

Standing on my Valiant stage, Charlie Benson lowers his face to mine and holds me captive with a long, slow kiss.

Quite possibly better than any standing ovation.

Chapter twenty - two

THE RIDE TO MY MOM’S is filled with alternating stretches of silence and lengthy bursts of chatter. And the closer we get to Middleton, the quieter I become.

I didn’t sleep at all last night, and I feel the effects today. I’m drained — of energy and of feeling. When I left this morning, I waved good-bye to friends standing in my driveway — Frances, Charlie, Nash, Hannah, Sam Dayberry, Pastor Mike, his wife, and a few others. I didn’t even cry. It’s like there’s nothing left to cry. All dried up.

Except for my bladder. It’s
so
not dried up. James has had to stop for me every hour. That’s what I get for chugging Diet Dr Pepper this morning like a marathon runner downing Gatorade.

Millie turns around in her seat. “Did you remember to pack your — ”

“Yes.”

“How did you know what I was going to ask?”

“Because we’ve gone through every possible item I’ve ever owned, touched, or seen in my life.”

“Besides,” Maxine kicks off her flip-flops, “if Katie forgets something, that gives us an excuse to bring it to her.” She levels her blue eyes
at me. “Not that I’ll miss you or anything.”