Chapter Twenty-one
Over the next few days, I pray more than I’ve ever prayed in my life. I think I may even be praying, in a silent, wordless way, as I walk out of the movie with Jenna Friday night.
Or maybe I’m just thinking.
Worrying.
About Noah meeting my parents.
“Did he text you yet?” Jenna asks.
“Umm . . . I’m too scared to check.”
“Give it over.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, pull my phone from my back pocket, and hold it out to her.
“Oh. Um . . . Yeah. He . . . did.”
I open my eyes. She’s wincing. “It’s . . . not good.” She turns the screen toward me.
It’s only four words.
Four words that pretty much cave in my world.
Noah:
I’m sorry. I tried.
My heart sinks into an abyss. I cut the night short, arriving home at 10:30 instead of my midnight curfew.
“It would seem you had a little communication problem with your boyfriend, Faith.”
I jump. Mom was waiting for me, just beyond the door. “What?”
“Give me your phone and your keys.”
“Why?”
“Because you told me you were going to the movies with Jenna.”
“I did go to the movies with Jenna.”
“And . . . ?”
“And what? We ate popcorn?” I hold out my hands. “After the movie, we went to Pizza Hut and gorged ourselves on breadsticks. Then I came home.”
“And when did you meet up with that Noah Spencer?”
“I didn’t.”
“You expect me to believe that? He came here to pick you up.”
“No, he didn’t.” I cross my arms. “Noah came here to talk to you. He knew I was with Jenna.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Why should I be surprised?” I throw up my hands and try to move past her, but she holds out an arm to block my way. I let out a huff. “Seriously? Call Jenna. Ask her.”
“I’m not an idiot. I know how these things work. I’m sure you and that Noah arranged this whole thing with Jenna. He just forgot where he was supposed to pick you up.”
“That’s stupid. If we were trying to keep it from you, why would he come here to pick me up?” I hate how guilty that makes me sound. Especially since, other than the pick-up location, that had been our original plan for tonight.
I shake my head to send those thoughts on their way. Our plans changed.
“I knew he was coming here to talk to you. That’s why I gave him my code for the gate.”
Mom’s lips press together. She holds out her hands. “Keys. Phone. Now.”
“Urrrgh!” Frustration growls through my teeth.
“Hand them over. Now.”
“Fine.” I slap my keys into her hand and then pull my phone from my pocket and do the same, glad I had the forethought to delete all my text threads while Jenna and I were waiting for our breadsticks.
“You’re grounded.”
There’s no point in arguing. “For how long?”
“This time next week, we’ll reevaluate. If you can watch your attitude, maybe that will be long enough.
If you can’t, the term will be extended.
” Mom pockets my keys. “You’ll be riding the bus to school next week.
I’ll have Gretchen come down to keep an eye on you while your dad and I are in Chicago next weekend.
If you toe the line, you may get some of your privileges reinstated when we return.
In the meantime, you can plan to spend tomorrow cleaning out the garden shed. ”
“Great. Am I excused now?”
“Yes. But I suggest you watch the sarcasm, young lady.”
Other than making a landline call to Jenna after Mom and Dad are asleep that night, asking her to text Noah and let him know I’m phoneless, I keep Mom’s restrictions to the letter for the prescribed week.
No phone. No computer use, other than that needed for closely monitored homework time. No friends. No mouthing off.
When Gretchen arrives Friday afternoon, I’m actually relieved to see my sister.
“You know the rules,” Mom warns me as she and Dad get ready to leave.
Mom turns to Gretchen. Smiles. The difference in her expression is marked enough to nauseate anyone not on its receiving end. I never am.
“Thanks for coming, sweetie. I know you probably have better things to do than keep an eye on your little sister, but I really appreciate it. I hope Justin doesn’t mind giving you up for the weekend. He’s such a nice young man.”
“Yeah, he’s great. And it’s no problem, Mom.” Gretchen puts an arm around my shoulders. I do my best to keep from rolling my eyes. “We’re going to have some girl time. I thought maybe tonight we’d give each other pedicures and find a movie to stream or something.”
“Sounds good. We’ll be back around four or five on Sunday.”
They leave. I slump into a chair.
“Wanna order pizza?” Gretchen asks. “We can pick out a movie while we’re waiting for it to be delivered.”
“You were serious?”
“Uh, yeah.” She says it like we always pal around on the weekends she’s home.
Honestly, I’m a little freaked out right now.
Gretchen surprises me and sticks to the verbalized plan. After the pizza is delivered, we gather our pedicure supplies and head to the family room in the basement.
“Mermaid Scales?” I read the bottom of a bottle of iridescent blue/green nail polish. “This one’s kind of pretty.”
“Yeah. I like it. Hey, do you still have those nail pen things Mom put in your stocking last Christmas?”
“Umm . . . I think so.” I rummage through the plastic bin where I store my nail polish supply. “Here. I’ve got hot pink, black, and . . . white.”
“Okay, start the movie. And don’t tell mom we had nail polish in a room with carpet. She’ll kill us both.”
“No kidding.”
Who is this girl? I can’t remember the last time Gretchen was actually nice to me, but tonight there’s a tenuous camaraderie between us.
It’s so rare that I enjoy my sister’s company or that she even considers mine an option, that I’m not sure how to respond to her casual openness.
I’m cautious, but eventually I relax. For whatever reason, at least for tonight, Gretchen is . . . nice.
We eat junk food, give each other pedicures, and watch movies until the wee hours. It’s almost like being with a friend.
The sectional sofa is big enough that both of us can sleep comfortably without getting in each other’s way, which we do, at last, and stay there until almost eleven Saturday morning.
We might have kept on snoozing into the afternoon if not for the incessantly loud vibration of Gretchen’s phone on the glass-top coffee table.
From Gretchen’s tone, I know she’s talking to a guy. Probably her new boyfriend, Justin. When she starts giving directions to the house, I head upstairs. “Sister time” is apparently over.
I hurry through my shower and normal routine, hoping to keep the peace with Gretchen by clearing out of the bathroom we share by the time she’s off the phone.
Grabbing my makeup bag, I head to my room, wrapped in a towel. Gretchen is waiting for me there.
“Justin’s coming over this afternoon.”
“I figured.” I nod, wondering if last night’s sister-bonding will continue into the new day.
“So . . . I was thinking,” she says with the hint of a smile, but it’s a last-night-Gretchen smile instead of the usual I’ll-eat-you-for-breakfast, Cheshire cat grin. “I know Mom’s been kind of rough on you lately.”
She does? Most of the time, she barely acknowledges my existence until I’m in her way.
“I had lunch with Ryan and Danielle last week, and they kind of filled me in.”
Ah.
“Since she left me in charge, I thought maybe . . . maybe you’d like to hang out with Noah tonight.”
I blink. “Really?”
“Yes, really. I’m the adult in charge, right?”
“Ri-ight.” Yes, Mom put her in charge, but I assume she did it because she knows the joy Gretchen usually gains by making my life miserable—which allies them in the anti-Faith cause.
“But Mom said—”
“That I’m in charge.” Gretchen crosses her arms.
True, but I’m pretty sure Mom would revoke Gretchen’s authority if she knew the two of us are getting along and that me hanging out with Noah is suddenly on the table.
But she doesn’t know.
And Mom did, after all, leave Gretchen in charge, so who am I to question the adult in authority?
“I’m in charge,” Gretchen asserts again, “and I’m giving you permission to go see your boyfriend.
Not here, of course. Justin’s going to be here, and that would be .
. . weird. But I’m sure you two can figure something out.
” Gretchen frowns. Her brows drew together.
“Just don’t do anything stupid that will get us both in trouble, okay? ”
“I won’t. I promise.”
I’m going to see Noah.
I’m going.
To see.
Noah!
My grin is so wide it almost hurts my cheeks. Impulsively, I wrap my towel-dried arms around my sister and hug her tight. “Thank you so much!”
“Stahhhhp.” Gretchen laughs and shakes her head. I plant a big kiss on her cheek. “Enough! Go call him.”
With a squeal, I spin around to get my phone off my desk, only to stop before I’m halfway there. “I can’t call him. Mom took my phone, and . . . I’m pretty sure she keeps a close eye on the numbers that show up on the landline bill.”
“She does. Use mine.” Gretchen holds it out. “Just set it on my dresser when you’re done. I’m gonna go get in the shower.”
Noah is probably at work, so I send a text.
Gretchen:
I have permission to see you tonight. Are you busy?-Faith
He always checks his phone on his break, so I know he’ll text back. The waiting could very well kill me. I set Gretchen’s phone in plain sight on my vanity table while I dry my hair and get dressed.
A date. I’m going on a date with Noah.
Maybe.
If he doesn’t have other plans.
I bite my lip as I look in the mirror. Could he have other plans?
I decide to curl my hair. It’s fairly straight naturally, and my normal routine is to give it just a few swipes of the straightener to keep it sleek, but curls might be a nice change.
Plus, they take five-ever to do on my thick hair, so it’ll help pass the time.
I pull the seldom-used curling wand from the drawer of my vanity table, plug it in, and begin the long process of glamorizing my “cinnamon” head.
Just as I’m unwinding the last curl from the wand, the screen of Gretchen’s phone lights up.
Noah:
Ok, FAITH. What’s my favorite kind of tea?
What?