Faith, Hope, and Ivy June (11 page)

There were Belgian waffles for breakfast, with whipped cream and strawberries, and the girls sat around in their pajamas, hair uncombed, looking and acting more like fifth than seventh graders. They teased each other, Ivy June included, spotting each other’s cheeks with fingers dipped in strawberry juice, until they all looked as though they had the measles.

Ivy June loved being included in the fun. Now that Jennifer and Megan had shown her up with their musical knowledge, it seemed she had passed the friendship test. Everyone was laughingly dumping their whipped cream on top of Jennifer’s waffle, just because Jennifer loved whipped cream so much. Ivy June put her scoop on last, so it towered over the others; then she picked up a slice of strawberry and delicately set it on top, where it balanced on one end. Everyone cheered.

There was talk of what each girl would be doing during spring break—who was traveling, who would be in town, and who the contact person would be if someone decided to give a party.

“Cat will be here all week; she’ll let us know,” Megan said.

“Ha,” Catherine joked, leaning her head sleepily on one hand. “Nobody ever calls me.”

“Except her boyfriend,” said Ivy June, grinning. Then her heart jumped to her throat as Catherine jerked up-right. The girls all hooted, curious.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Catherine said, staring hard at Ivy June, her eyes cold.

The rest of the girls began to laugh.

“Aha!” said Jennifer. “Do I detect a rise in temperature?”

“So who is he?” asked Hannah.

“I was just kidding,” Ivy June said quickly. “How would I know?” But no one believed her.

“I
said
I don’t have a boyfriend!” Catherine repeated, and stabbed at another bite of waffle.

All the girls were smiling now—all but Mackenzie.

“How many times has he called, Ivy June?” one of the girls asked.

“She doesn’t have a boyfriend,” said Ivy June. “I was just shooting off my mouth.”

“So do
you
have a boyfriend back home?” Courtney asked her.

“Sure. Dozens,” said Ivy June. “Got ’em lined up all the way to Tennessee.”

The girls laughed again, all but Catherine and Mackenzie.

Later, as the girls dressed and collected their things, Ivy June could barely look at Catherine. How could she have
said
that? Hadn’t she promised not to mention the boy’s calls to anyone? How could she stay another week at the Combses’ with Catherine mad at her? Sleeping in the same room?

She stuffed her things into the overnight bag Claire had loaned her and pulled on her jacket. When Ivy June went out on the porch to wait for Mr. Combs to pick them up, Catherine turned away. And when the car pulled into the driveway, Catherine got in first without saying a word.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

When the girls got home, Catherine went inside and ran directly up the stairs to her room. Miserably, Ivy June followed. She was afraid, when Catherine shut the door behind her, that she might have locked it. But no, the door opened. Ivy June watched Catherine drop her overnight bag on the floor, plunk herself down on the bed, and turn her face to the wall.

Ivy June sat down on the edge of the other bed. She started to speak once, but her voice only produced a squeak. She tried again: “Catherine, I’m really sorry.”

There was no response.

“I don’t know what made me say that. It came out so fast.”

Still nothing from Catherine, except a slight shrug of a shoulder, as though nothing Ivy June could say would make it better.

“As soon as I said it, I knew I shouldn’t have,” Ivy June told her pleadingly.

Catherine jerked around. “You
promised
you wouldn’t say a word!”

“I know. And I feel awful.”

“Not as awful as
I
feel,” Catherine said, with anger.

There was silence in the bedroom for a few moments.

“Like I said, I’m really, really sorry, but … Well, what’s wrong with having a boyfriend? I mean, if he
is
your boyfriend!”

“I
told
you he’s not!” Catherine shot back. “And now Mackenzie’s mad at me, and she’s like my best friend in the whole world.
Was
, I should say!”

“But why should she be mad?” Ivy June asked.

Catherine sat up completely and swung her legs over the side of the bed, glaring at Ivy June. “Because she likes him too, and she didn’t know he’s been calling me, that’s why.”

“Oh,” said Ivy June, trying to figure it out. “Then he’s Mackenzie’s boyfriend?”

“He’s
no
body’s boyfriend!” Catherine said. “And it’s none of your business.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Ivy June pulled her legs up on the bed and wrapped her arms around her knees. She and Catherine were quiet for a while. Once, the girls lifted their eyes and glanced at each other, then dropped them again.

Finally Catherine sighed and scooted back against the wall. “Look. Every February our school puts on a carnival along with St. John’s to raise money for our libraries. St. John’s is a boys’ school. This year we met Andy at one of the booths, and he was really cute.
That’s
who he is.”

Ivy June nodded, and Catherine continued: “Mackenzie hung around him all evening and flirted a lot. I did too, actually. For the last three weeks, all she’s talked about is Andy. And when he started calling me … well, how could I tell her?”

“I don’t know. I guess you couldn’t,” said Ivy June. “But how would she know it’s him who’s been calling?”

“Who else would it be?” said Catherine. “Mackenzie and Hannah and I tell each other everything. Well,
almost
everything. If there was any boy other than Andy calling me, I would have told her already, and she knows it.”

They sat across from each other on the twin beds, studying each other’s feet. Finally Ivy June said, “What can I do to make up for it?”

“If I knew, I’d tell you. I don’t think there’s anything you can say to Mackenzie now to keep her from being mad at me.”

“Don’t you think she already suspected that he likes you?” Ivy June asked cautiously. “I mean, girls can tell about things like this.”

“I don’t know, but you sure ruined things between us,” Catherine said.

Ivy June rested her chin on her arms. When she looked up again, she said, “Are you going to be mad at me the whole rest of the time I’m here?”

Catherine didn’t answer for a moment. She might have been holding back a smile; Ivy June wasn’t sure. “Probably,” Catherine said.

“Well, is there anything I can do to make you
not
be mad at me?”

Catherine thought it over. “Yes. Tell me one of
your
secrets.”

“For you to tell the other girls?”

“Maybe. If I feel like it.”

Ivy June took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said. “I kissed a boy once at Shirl’s.”

Catherine did smile a little bit. “Shirl’s your best friend?”

“Yeah. We started first grade together.”

“Who was the boy?”

“Jimmy Harris. We were playing spin the bottle and I had to kiss him in front of everybody.”

“Then that’s not a secret,” said Catherine. “That doesn’t count.”

Ivy June thought some more. “Okay, then. I stole something once from Walmart.”

“Really? What was it?”

“Uh … a pair of socks.”

“You did not,” said Catherine.

“How do you know?”

“I just know. If you’d stolen anything, it wouldn’t be socks, and I’ll bet you never stole anything in your life.”

Ivy June sighed. “Okay, I didn’t.”

“If I’m not going to be mad at you for the next week, you’ve got to tell me something that’s really,
really
secret,” said Catherine.

“All right, but I’ll have to think about it,” said Ivy June.

For the time being, the secret was put on hold because Mrs. Combs had tickets that evening to
Oklahoma!
at the Lexington Opera House, and they would all be going out to dinner before the performance.

“Yes, you have to wear a tie. Quit fussing about it,” Ivy June heard Mr. Combs say to Peter, who was complaining loudly. “We
always
wear ties to the theater, and you know that.”

To Catherine, Ivy June said, “I guess I’m supposed to dress up as much as I possibly can?”

“Next to weddings and funerals,” Catherine told her.

Ivy June put on the same dress and sandals she’d worn to church but accepted the offer of Catherine’s light wool jacket instead of the grimy one she’d worn with her jeans when she’d arrived.

As Ivy June was brushing her hair at the mirror in the bathroom, the knob turned on the other door and Claire stepped in.

“Oh!” she said. “It wasn’t locked.”

“It’s okay. I’m about to leave,” Ivy June told her.

“How do I look?” Claire stood perfectly still, her chin held high for inspection.

“I think you look terrific,” Ivy June said, noting the black velvet top and taffeta skirt. Then she leaned down a little closer. “Hmmm. Either strawberry jam or your ma’s lip gloss, I’ll bet.”

Claire quickly backed away, but her eyes danced. “Only a little,” she said. “Catherine uses it sometimes. I saw!”

“Well then, that’s Catherine’s secret, isn’t it?”

The young girl leaned against the doorframe and watched as Ivy June gathered up her comb and brush and the talcum powder Mammaw had given her to pat under her arms. “Is it true that everyone in Thunder Creek is poor?” Claire asked, and then, suddenly conscious of her rudeness, said, “Not you, I mean.”

“Well, I don’t know of any rich people,” Ivy June said, and couldn’t help admiring Claire’s frankness.

But Claire was stumbling all over herself now to make amends. “I’ve heard it’s really beautiful in the mountains, and there’s no traffic or anything.”

“You’re right,” said Ivy June, leaving the bathroom. “It doesn’t have a lot of things, and tons of cars are one of them.”

She knew, of course. They had all known why Buckner Academy had chosen Thunder Creek, in one of the poorest counties in Kentucky. She knew she was coming to Lexington as a disadvantaged girl, to get a taste of the finer things in life—by city standards, of course. But so what? She was here, she was hungry to learn, and she was going to enjoy everything the night had to offer.

Catherine, too, looked nice that evening. She wasn’t an exceptionally pretty girl, but she was attractive when she was all dressed up. She wore the same gold locket with everything, jeans and dresses alike. On this night it shone against her dress of green silk. It was her mother’s locket. She had worn it as a girl, Catherine had explained to Ivy June, opening it to show a tiny photo of her mother at age fifteen.

“Mom used to carry a photo of
her
mom inside it,” she said.

“Well!” said Catherine’s father, looking about the big round table at the restaurant once they were seated. “It’s great to have us all together and in a good mood.”

He had sensed the quarrel between her and Catherine that afternoon, Ivy June was certain, and this was his way of saying he was glad it was over.

Mrs. Combs opened the menu. “We’re celebrating two things tonight—the start of spring break, and having Ivy June as our guest,” she said. “So I hope you will order whatever you like, Ivy June.”