I'm So Sure (16 page)
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he deadpans.
“Yeah, sorry you’re here.” I hand him a plate. “And not at a candlelit dinner for two.”
“This is exactly where I want to be.” His frown is slight. “I wouldn’t want to miss this.”
I feel like our conversation just forked in two different directions. In lieu of a response, I move on down the food table.
Newt chooses that moment to stomp over, his Vans heavy on the concrete. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yeah, Newt, I was wondering if you’d be interested in escorting my friend Lindy to prom.” I point in her direction.
“Is she the one in the pink sparkles and mustache?”
“No,
he’s
Betty the Bulldozer.”
Newt squints behind his glasses. “Does he wrestle in those heels?”
I grab Newt’s chin and angle his head toward Lindy.
“Ohh.” He nods. “Uh-huh.”
That’s his only response? How about, thank you. She’s
so
much hotter than any other girl I could get on my own. “Are you interested?”
“I don’t know. I do want to go to prom . . .”
I’m Sure “What’s not to know? Do you already have a prom date?”
“I might have an option.”
“Prom’s in six weeks. Do you have a date yet or not?”
He scuffs the toe of his shoe. “I guess not.”
“Do you have transportation?”
“I should by then. I gotta get my mom’s car fixed.”
“Tux?”
“I’ll get one.”
“Lindy has a strict no-hands, no-alochol policy. Can you adhere to that? Raise your right hand and repeat after me: no kissy, no drinkie.”
“I got it, Bella.”
“And don’t you get anywhere near
her
vortex.”
With a glowing blush, Newt all but races back to his seat.
Luke coughs to cover a laugh. “What was that about? He looked like he was about to cry.”
“Just business.”
“Want to go to the basketball game with me on Saturday?”
I drop the ice tongs. “Game? Go? Together?”
Dear God, please anoint me with the power of complete sentences.
“Yeah, Anna Deason said she tried to call you tonight. She got some threatening e-mails.”
I was on the phone with Hunter after school. “E-mails like Ruthie’s? Doctored pictures?”
“No, as in telling her that if she doesn’t drop out of the prom queen race, she’ll be sorry. Two nights ago she was at a game and her shoes got stolen. Could be just coincidence, but I thought we’d go to the game and watch her cheer. Keep an eye out for anything suspicious.”
One of the ever-present camera guys darts across the room and trains his lens on me. These guys are like roaches. They’re everywhere and impossible to get rid of. I turn around and give him my back. Which puts me right up in Luke’s space.
“Yeah, I’d love to go with you. Er, I mean, love to go to the game. But I kind of need a ride.”
“Still don’t have an alternator?”
“My mom’s making me pay for it myself.” I see his lips twitch.
“Summer Fresh is looking for part-time help.”
“Oh, wouldn’t you just
love
for me to be elbow deep in panty liners. Well, no thanks. There is
nothing
that will make me work there.”
Y
ou’re not going to buy me a prom dress?” I clutch my phone with both hands.
“No, honey. Your mother and I both think you need to learn the value of money.”
“But Dad, I do value money. A
lot
.”
I hear him laughing. “Get another job, Bella. And save your money. Besides, you have tons of formals from your Hilliard school days.”
“Both those are
so
last year, and I have to pay to get my car fixed.”
“Christina and Marisol said to tell you hello.”
Ugh! Is he even listening to me? Does he even care that I’m wearing last year’s dress
and
riding to school in a funeral hearse?
“Christina wants to know how you feel about a summer wedding?”
“Remember how I felt when I got food poisoning and yakked all over dinner?
That’s
how I feel.”
“Yes, sweetie, your cookies are excellent.” He laughs into the phone. “Sorry, Bella, I was talking to Marisol. She made me peanut butter cookies. Isn’t that adorable? Now what were you saying?”
“Nothing.”
Like it would matter to you and
sweetie. “I have to get ready for the wrestling match in Tulsa. I’ll see you soon, Dad. Love you.”
God, I seriously need some help dealing with my dad’s new life. This is
not
going well. And I thoroughly dislike that cookie-making little girl.
I grab my purse and coat and head down the hall. When I hear noises from Budge and Robbie’s room, I decide to backtrack and peek in.
Robbie’s cape is gone and he’s in regular clothes. A flannel shirt replaces a superhero t-shirt. He pushes a button on a remote and a kung-fu guy repeats a move on TV. Robbie attempts a karate chop, then plays it again.
“Whatcha doing, buddy?”
Robbie jumps, hands ready to chop.
“Whoa, don’t hurt me.” I hold up my arms in surrender.
“I wouldn’t hurt you, Bella.” He bows like a
sensei
. “I know these hands can be lethal weapons.”
I take a seat on his bed. What happened to the Spider-Man sheets? “Where’s your cape, Robbie?”
“It’s in my closet.”
“Why?”
He shrugs and turns his attention back to the TV. “Maybe I want to be a superhero in disguise.”
“Why are you watching martial arts movies?”
“Because Dad wouldn’t teach me any of his moves.”
“And you have to know how to hurt someone
because
. . . ? Robbie, look at me.”
He pivots back around but stares a hole in the shaggy carpet. “Superman and Spider-Man know how to defend themselves. It’s part of the job.”
“Says who?”
He lifts his head. “Because I—” He shakes his carrot-top head as if erasing the sentence on his tongue. “Because that’s what happens in the movies, of course.”
I drop to my knees and get eye level. “You’d tell me if anyone was picking on you, right?”
Jake chooses that moment to stick his head in the doorway. “Let’s go, guys.” He winks at his son. “Daddy’s itching to gut-wrench someone tonight.”
Used cars. Why can’t he sell used cars?
“Are you nervous, Daddy?” Robbie asks, totally disconnecting on our conversation.
“Nah. If I win tonight, I win. If not, that’s in God’s hands too. It’s been a great ride being on the reality show, eh?”
“Oh, it’s been a blast.” I force a smile. “The camera guys are just like family now.” A family of rodents.
Four hours later I’ve had popcorn, a burger, a candy bar, an extra large Sprite, and six trips to the bathroom. Jake did a great job this evening, and I hope at least for his sake that it’s not his last week on
Pile Driver of Dreams
.
“Laaaaddddies and gentlemennnn!” The announcer moves to the center of the ring. “Tonight we have Oklahoma’s own Cap-tain! Iron! Jack!”
The entire crowd squints an eye and growls, “Arrrgh.”
“Many of you have watched. Many of you have even voted.” The screens around the arena change to satellite feeds of the four other contestants in their own venues. “I have the distinct privilege of sharing the results. Will Captain Iron Jack be returning next week to
Pile Driver of Dreams
or is he down for the final count?”
Mom and I scream with the rest of the fans. There has to be at least a couple thousand here.
“The remaining contestants will be in Nevada next Friday night as we move the semifinals to Las Vegas! Our wrestlers will meet
and
compete for the first time!”
“Go Captain Iron Jack!” Budge yells. “Sin City, here I come!”
“Are you ready, Tulsa?” The announcer opens an envelope.
Jake stands in the middle of the ring next to the announcer. Mickey stands below, his hands clasped like he’s praying.
“Captain Iron Jack”—the announcer wraps his arm around Jake’s shoulders—“I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.”
Groans ricochet all over the arena. My heart plummets.
“The bad news is Vegas ain’t Oklahoma, but Captain Iron Jack, that’s exactly where you’re headed! You’re going to Vegas, baby!”
The crowd erupts and the four of us jump up and down, screaming. He did it! Jake really did it.
I reach into my purse and grab my phone. “Luke? Jake made it. He’s going on to the next round.”
He laughs. “That’s awesome. Wait just a sec, okay?”
I hear a beep.
“Taylor?”
Ugh
. “Nope. Still me. Bella.”
“Must’ve lost her. Tell Jake I’m really happy for him.”
I struggle to hear him with the noise around me. “Yeah, I’ll do that. Bye.”
“Hey, Bella?”
“Yes?”
I hear him breathe deep. “Thanks for calling me.”
Silence. “That’s what friends do.” And I hang up, a little sadder than I was only one minute ago.
B
ut I’m really qualified. Nobody knows ice cream better than me.”
The owner of the Truman Dairy Barn shakes her white poodlecurl head one last time, and I leave. I’ve been all over Truman today.
Nobody
is hiring.
I hop in my mom’s Tahoe. Times are hard. I need my car fixed and I need a prom dress. And prom shoes. And prom earrings, lipstick, hair, nails, perfume, necklace, and matching handbag. The five dollars in my pocket is
not
going to cover it. I miss my dad’s credit card.
This morning in my quiet time I read a devotional about pride. It said that God dislikes it so much, he gives us the cold shoulder. I certainly don’t need that. And I know I’m supposed to resist pride, and it’s wrong. But I have yet to find anyone in the Bible whose only job option left was cranking out maxi-pads. Who needs a car anyway? I’m doing fine catching rides in the hearse.
Okay, actually, no I’m not. I’m forever thinking I smell formaldehyde.
Fine, God. I’m ready to suck it up and gain some humility. I can’t afford you being mad at me. Not with a maniac at large.
Taylor Swift blasts from my phone, and I pick it up.
“Hey, Hunter.”
“What are you doing?”
“Deciding whether I want to give up my car or give up my dignity. I have to get a job, and the only place that’s hiring is the factory where Jake works.”
“Doesn’t he make—”
“Yes!”
Hunter’s laugh does not make me feel like turning the car toward the industrial park to Summer Fresh.
“These are desperate times, Hunter. You have no idea.”
He laughs again, but this time it’s bitter. “Oh, I know more about that than you think. At least you have prom to look forward to.”
“I don’t know. Maybe I should just skip it until next year. It’s going to be really expensive, I don’t have a job, and I don’t even have a date.”
“I’ll go with you.”
I chuckle. “I’m so sure.”
“Seriously. Dad has business in Tulsa in March. I’ll just see if he’ll postpone it until your prom weekend.”
“You’d do that for me?”
Hunter’s voice is soft and familiar. “I’d do anything for you.”
“And I won’t find you outside making out with my best friend under a tree and some twinkly lights?”
“I thought you had forgiven me.”
“I have.” Forgetting seems to be another matter. “Hunter, I would love it if you’d go to prom with me. It would mean a lot.”
“Then it’s settled.”
I balance the phone between my cheek and shoulder. “So how are you feeling these days?”
“I’m okay.” His tone says to drop it.
“Any updates?”
“They’ve ruled out a few more things. I’ve got more tests this week. Don’t worry about it. You have enough to think about.”
“Knowing the doctors can’t figure out what’s wrong with you and it could possibly be fatal is not something I can just push out of my mind.”
“I never said I was dying.” I hear him clicking on a keyboard and know this topic has probably lost his attention. “I just said it was severe, and I wouldn’t be sure of the outcome. Nothing has changed. But talking to you always makes me feel better. And I know you’re praying for me and stuff. It’s like sometimes I can feel your faith, you know?”
Being Hunter’s friend is the so the right thing to do.
As I end my call, I realize in the last few minutes I’ve driven the Tahoe to Summer Fresh. The entrance to the sprawling concrete building looms before me. If Hunter sees Christ in me, then what would Christ do? Probably move to the next town.
No, he’d suck it up, go in, and fill out an application.
God, give me strength as I walk through this dark, dark valley of life.
Here goes nothing. I jump out of the SUV, call my overly protective mom to check in, and head toward the Kotex Compound.
“I’d like an application for a job. Part-time.”
A gray-headed woman eyes me over the top of her bifocals. “You look familiar.”
“I’m Jake Finley’s stepdaughter.” Throwing around a shift manager’s name ought to mean something.
“Nah. That’s not it.” She opens a drawer and rifles through it. “Yessiree. Here we go.” She pulls out an
Enquirer
and pokes her nail at a picture. “This is you, ain’t it? I love this show!”
“Can I just get an application?” I’m not sure if I’m having a moment of maturity or insanity, but it could wear off at any moment.
“I know this is you. Says here you’ve got two boyfriends.”
“I really don’t—”
“Says here you solve local crimes.”
“It’s not like—”
“And you’ve secretly been dating Prince Harry of England?”
I step a little closer at the clearly doctored picture of me and the prince. Nice. “Just between you and me, it’s all true. But if Harry finds out I told, he’d stop buying me diamonds, so let’s just keep that one on the DL.”
She nods her gray head vigorously. “Look at me—buttoning my lip.” She presses her mouth together. “Mmmmmm.”
“Great. I knew I could count on you. Um, application please?”
She makes some more muffled sounds and hands me a blank form and a pen.
“Ginger, do you have those accounts ready?” A man lays some manila folders on the receptionist’s desk. “Hey, aren’t you Jake’s kid?”