Leaving Fishers (5 page)

“Oh, stop,” Angela laughed. “You try describing it.”

“Life is good in Fishers,” Brad said. “It’s like the Bible says: If God is for you, who can be against you? What’s there to be unhappy about if you’re right with God?”

Dorry thought about that. All her new friends did seem incredibly happy, incredibly satisfied. She’d been eating lunch with them for a week, and had never once heard anyone complain, even jokingly. And they all seemed so sure of themselves—Dorry couldn’t imagine any of her friends back in Bryden walking up to a total stranger and inviting them to lunch, the way Angela had with
Dorry. Dorry had thought before that Angela was just more confident and sophisticated because she was from a big city. But maybe it was because of Fishers.

“You’re welcome to come to our service on Sunday,” Angela said. “I could take you.”

“Um, okay,” Dorry said. She and her parents hadn’t gone to church at all in Indianapolis, and she really hadn’t missed it. But she was curious now.

“Great,” Angela replied.

Dorry feared more religion talk, but after that they talked about a prank someone had played at school, painting a huge rock outside the door with the school colors of Crestwood’s arch rival. Before long, Angela excused herself to go to the bathroom. Dorry marveled at her luck, being alone with Brad. But suddenly Kim and Jay and Michael were there, too.

“You need to—,” Jay started to say to Brad, but broke off when he saw Dorry listening. He cleared his throat and began again. “Sorry, kids, the party’s breaking up. And Brad here is on cleanup duty.” Then he added, just to Dorry, “We only have the clubhouse rented for three hours.”

“Oh.” Dorry realized she hadn’t seen Lara since the very beginning of the party. She hadn’t left, had she? Dorry let herself drift into fantasy for a
second. Maybe Brad or Michael would have to take her home. She imagined a quiet car, intimate talk. But then they’d have to see that she lived in awful Northview.

“Excuse me,” she said, thinking she ought to look for Lara.

“Going to the bathroom?” Kim asked. “I’ll show you where it is.”

Figuring she might as well start looking there, Dorry followed Kim through the crowd, out of the main room and down a hallway, past the manager’s office. Dorry didn’t see Lara anywhere.

“Here it is,” Kim said. “Want to go first?”

“No, that’s okay. You can,” Dorry said.

Kim went inside and locked the door. Dorry felt like a fool standing around outside the bathroom, so she wandered on down the hall to see what the rest of the clubhouse looked like. She passed a water fountain and a wall full of tasteful art. She was about to turn back when she heard voices around the corner.

“—was mine! You knew that! You’re a thief, that’s what you are!”

Was that Angela? Dorry listened intently. The reply was muffled. “—wasn’t like that. I just thought, why wait? She needs it—”

It was Lara, earnest and pleading. They were fighting about something. Dorry wanted to listen,
but she didn’t want them to come out and see her. They’d think she was eavesdropping. She
was
eavesdropping.

“Dorry?” Kim called from behind. Guiltily, Dorry turned around. She rushed back to the bathroom. “Your turn,” Kim said.

Dorry tried to act normal, but Kim gave her a puzzled look. Dorry went into the bathroom. When she came out, Lara and Angela were standing with Kim. They were all smiling, acting normal.

“There you are, Dorry,” Lara said. “Having fun? I forgot—I have to help clean up. Is it okay if Angela takes you home?”

Dorry looked from Lara to Angela. Were they still mad at each other? They couldn’t be—they were leaning together toward Dorry, both obviously wanting her to agree. “That’s fine,” Dorry said.

“I’ve just got to borrow Brad’s car,” Angela said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Why Brad’s car?” Dorry asked. “If it’s a problem, I can wait for Lara. My parents won’t be home yet, anyway—”

“No, there’s no problem,” Angela said, waving her hand airily. “It’s just, oh, complicated logistics.” She disappeared down the hall. Dorry walked more slowly with Kim and Lara toward the main door of the clubhouse.

“Did you meet Pastor Jim?” Lara asked. “Isn’t he great?”

Dorry nodded. “He was very nice,” she said, though “nice” was hardly the right word.

“Just wait until you hear him preach,” Kim said. “You forget you’re in church.”

In a few minutes, Angela came back, waving keys. “Ready?” she asked Dorry. “Bye, Kim. Bye, Lara. See you Sunday.”

Angela hustled Dorry out the door and to the car, chattering about the party, Brad’s car, the weather. Angela expertly pulled out of a tight parking space and drove out of the apartment complex. They were in the thick of traffic on Meridian before Dorry realized she hadn’t had a chance to say good-bye to all her friends.

Chapter

Five

ANGELA’S CHATTER ENDED IN THE CAR. She drove for dozens of blocks in silence. Dorry thought ruefully about her fantasy of Brad or one of the other guys taking her home. Right car, wrong driver.

“Everybody likes you. You know that, don’t you?” Angela said suddenly. She stopped at a traffic light and flashed a dazzling smile at Dorry.

“Well, sure. I guess so,” Dorry said. She turned toward the window to hide an embarrassed grin.

“We feel so lucky to have gotten to know you,” Angela said. “If I hadn’t seen you sitting by yourself on Monday . . . think what we would have missed.”

“Uh-huh,” Dorry said. She wasn’t sure what to say. Kids didn’t talk like that back in Bryden. But Angela was still talking.

“I wasn’t sure . . . Sometimes people don’t tell others what they mean to them. That’s something I’ve learned in Fishers. You’ve got to let people know how important they are. And you are important.”

Dorry felt even more flattered, and more
uncomfortable. Should she tell Angela she liked her, too?

“There’s something else . . . This is a little embarrassing, but I don’t want you to be confused by anything.” Angela paused. The light changed. She turned onto a cloverleaf entrance ramp for 465. Dorry waited, suddenly unsure where the conversation was headed.

“Kim said at the end of the party, when you were waiting for the bathroom, you might have overheard Lara and me talking,” Angela said, finally, glancing away from the curving road to watch Dorry.

Dorry gulped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—I just—”

Angela waved away Dorry’s apologies. “Oh, nobody’s blaming you. It’s not
your
fault.” Angela made it sound like someone else deserved blame, and plenty of it, but she was too kind to say so. Dorry was just relieved Angela wasn’t mad at her.

Angela accelerated, pulling out onto the freeway. “The only reason I bring it up is that . . . I was thinking about what we said,” she continued. “And depending on what you heard, you could misunderstand. . . . What exactly did you hear?”

“You . . . called Lara a thief,” Dorry said, hesitantly. She was glad it was darker inside the car
now and Angela couldn’t see her face. “Did she take something of yours? Then I heard her say something like, ‘It wasn’t like that. She needed it as soon as possible.’”

Angela didn’t even try to look at Dorry now. She peered intently at the traffic around her, changing lanes with a practiced air. “And that’s all you heard?”

“Yes,” Dorry said. “It’s none of my business. I’ll forget I heard anything.” Of course, she couldn’t forget. Already, she was thinking of Lara differently. And Angela, too. Maybe these Fishers people weren’t so perfect after all. She looked out the window, just wishing she were home and didn’t have to discuss this with Angela. It was the first time she’d ever longed to be at Northview.

“No,” Angela said. “You deserve an explanation. Lara has a problem. Kleptomania, I guess it’s called. You’ve heard about people who can’t stop taking things, whether they really want them or not? We thought Lara had overcome it since she joined Fishers. I don’t think she’d stolen anything in months. But then at the party, I saw her take my necklace out of my purse. She did it right in front of me, like she wanted me to see. It was a cry for help.”

Dorry frowned doubtfully, though she couldn’t think of any reason that Angela would lie. When
had Lara had time to take Angela’s necklace? Angela had been with Dorry practically the whole time. But Angela had left to go to the bathroom. Maybe it had happened then.

“I don’t understand. Why was your necklace in your purse?” Dorry asked, then worried that Angela would take the question the wrong way. Dorry didn’t want Angela to think she didn’t believe her.

“The clasp broke,” Angela said. She evidently didn’t mind questions. “I didn’t want to lose it. Look, I wouldn’t have told you about Lara, except I thought it would be worse not to. I hope this doesn’t make you think badly of her. She really needs our friendship. We—the Fishers—have been trying to help her.”

Angela said “our friendship,” casually, and that made the phrase sound even more wonderful to Dorry. She liked it that Angela was treating her as a partner, someone who would help take care of Lara. She liked the thought that Lara needed help from her, Dorry.

Angela glanced at Dorry again. “This is all a little . . . embarrassing for Lara. You won’t tell anyone else, will you?”

“Of course not,” Dorry said.

“I knew we could count on you,” Angela said.

Angela pulled off 465 and Dorry began
directing her to Northview. Dorry was glad it was dark and Angela couldn’t see much of the complex. They pulled up in front of Dorry’s apartment.

“Thanks so much for coming,” Angela said, as if she herself had invited Dorry to the party. “About Sunday morning—I’ll pick you up for the service at eight-thirty. You’ll love it. I promise.”

“Okay,” Dorry said. “Thanks. Bye.”

Dorry got out of the car and waved as Angela pulled out. Angela gestured that she would wait for Dorry to go inside. Dorry turned around. She was surprised by how much light leaked out from around the edges of the curtains on the apartment windows—surely she’d only left one lamp on. She unlocked the door and pushed it open.

“Dorry! Where have you been?” Her mother grabbed Dorry and hugged her tight. “We thought something awful had happened—” Her mother pushed Dorry back and looked into her face. “How could you do this to us?”

As if too weak with relief to keep standing, Dorry’s mother collapsed onto the couch, pulling Dorry down with her. Dorry’s father was there, too. His eyes were cold and hard in his deeply lined face. Dorry knew that look of barely restrained fury—it had accompanied every single one of her childhood spankings.

“I—I was just at a party with my friends,” Dorry said, stumbling over the words, even though she knew that made her sound guilty. “I thought you both had to work until midnight.”

“So you thought it was okay to run around wild?” Dorry’s dad asked.

Dorry was still caught in her mother’s embrace. She pulled away and sat on the edge of the coffee table. “No, no, it wasn’t like that. This was a church group I was with.” The word “church” had a magical effect, softening both of their faces. But they still looked mad. Dorry rushed to explain. “I would have left a note, but I thought I’d be home before either of you—”

“You should have called me at work and told me where you were going. Asked permission,” Dorry’s mom said.

“I never did that back home in Bryden,” Dorry said.

“This isn’t Bryden,” Dorry’s dad said.

A week earlier, that would have been a cue for Dorry to plead, “Then send me back there.” But now she only sat still, in stony silence. Just when she’d had a good time at the party, when Angela had told her everybody liked her and even asked for her help with Lara—why did her parents have to ruin everything?

Dorry’s mother patted Dorry’s knee. “I guess
everything’s all right now. You didn’t do anything wrong. We’re just bound to worry, here in the city, since you hear about all the crime around here. But if you were with some church group . . .”

Dorry looked at her father. “Dad?”

“I reckon your mother’s right. But you call her the next time, you hear?” he said, grudgingly.

“Okay,” Dorry said.

Her father got up and walked to the window. He moved aside the curtain and looked out at the bleak parking lot. “I didn’t want to move here either,” he said. “But we did and that’s that. It’s only for three years.”