Roadside Assistance (12 page)

I was silent while my dad and I did the dishes, and then disappeared to my room as soon as I could.

Sitting on the window seat, I opened my Spanish book and stared at the words, my mind still rolling over my father’s words. After several minutes, I yanked my journal from my bag and began writing.

Tuesday, August 30

Dear Mom,

I’m so upset I can’t concentrate on my homework. I wish I could talk to you in person, and you could help figure out how to work through all this anger and resentment.

Dad got a job today, thanks to Zander’s recommendation. While I’m thrilled for him and for us, I’m furious he won’t let me get a job there as well. It doesn’t make sense. Back home, I worked twenty hours some weeks, helping out nearly every day after school and on Saturdays.

Dad always told me that if I didn’t use my mechanical talent, I’d lose it. Why is it different now? I always got good grades — Bs and some As too. Why isn’t that good enough now? Why is Dad treating me differently? Why doesn’t he trust me to do my best at work and school, like I always did?

Dad has changed so much now that you’re gone. But I guess I’ve changed too. I’m not the same person I was, and I wish I could be. I wish I knew how to reach out to him and tell him how I feel without getting so defensive and resentful.

You always knew the right thing to say and to do. I wish I could be like you. I wish I had your strength and your faith. I’m lost without you, Mom. I feel like a ship lost at sea without you here to guide me. I miss you.

The sputter and hiss of the air compressor drew my eyes to the garage next door. I watched Zander work on his car for a few minutes, his cell phone pressed to one ear, and then turned back to my Spanish book, wondering how I was going to make it through this year.

chapter eight

W
hitney stuck her head into my doorway Thursday evening. “Emily, get dressed. Youth group in fifteen minutes.”

I glanced up from my history book. “Youth group?”

“You’ll like it. Trust me.” Whitney jerked her thumb toward the hall. “Let’s go!”

“No, thanks.” I nodded toward my book bag. “I’ve got a ton of —”

My dad appeared behind Whitney. “Just get ready, Emily. It’ll be good for you.”

Whitney’s phone began to sing. “I’ll be downstairs.” She slipped past my dad.

“Good for me?” I narrowed my eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

My dad stepped through the doorway. “Look, I know you’re angry with me because I won’t let you get a job, but I’m not going to change my mind about that. I think you need to get more involved in the church, like you were before — “ He paused. “Before we lost Mom. You used to love church and your friends there. I think this group can help you work through some of the things you’re feeling. Maybe then you won’t be so resentful of the changes we’ve had to endure.”

Frustrated, I studied his expression. “So you think that if I
go to youth group with Whitney I’ll get rid of the chip on my shoulder.”

He paused, seeming to choose his words. “Emily, everything has changed for us. Nothing will be the same ever again. All we can do is trust what God has in store for us.” He glanced at his watch. “I have an appointment with Pastor Keith, so I have to run. You should go.” He hurried out the door.

I glanced across the room at my reflection in the mirror. I was still clad in the denim shorts and purple tank top I’d worn to school, and my hair was pulled back into a rubber band at the nape of my neck.

“Emily?” Darlene appeared in the doorway. “Whitney’s waiting for you in her car. You better hurry up.” Her expression became serious, and I got the sneaking suspicion my family had staged an intervention.

Outside the Honda’s horn honked.

“Just give it a try, okay?”

I stood. “Okay.”

“Good girl.” She patted my shoulder as I moved past her.

During the ride to the church, Whitney flipped on the radio, and Christian rock blared through the speakers. She turned it down and glanced at me. “I’m glad you’re coming with me tonight.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Yeah.” She laughed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I assumed my dad and your mom made you invite me.” I grabbed a handful of hair that had escaped my ponytail and pulled out my rubber band. Forming a new ponytail, I wrapped the rubber band around it and hoped it would stay secure.

She slowed at a light and turned to me. “Actually, it was my idea to invite you.”

I raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Your idea?”

“Yeah.” The light changed and she let off the brake. “You’ve
been through a lot, and I thought you might like to check out the youth group. I know when I’m sad, being at church helps me.” She shot me a sideways glance. “I’m not saying that anything I experience could be close to what you’ve faced after losing your mom. I just meant that it might help you sort through some of your feelings and all. Youth group helps me connect with God.”

“Oh.” I studied her while her words soaked through me. Did she really care about my feelings?

The Honda steered into the church lot, and Whitney parked next to my dad’s Suburban. On our way to the youth room, we passed Pastor Keith’s office, and I wondered how Dad’s appointment was going. Was he talking about Mom or discussing his “issues” with me and my trouble fitting in? I shuddered at the idea of my dad revealing all of our private business.

I followed Whitney into a large classroom lined with tables. The walls were decorated with Bible verses and also familiar Bible scenes that looked liked they’d been drawn by children.

A crowd of teenagers sat at the tables while Jenna stood in front of the room by a television and DVD player on a rolling cart. The smell of popcorn permeated the air as two girls I recognized from the service entered the room with huge bowls that were filled to the brim. Two boys followed with cans of soda.

“Whitney and Emily,” Jenna announced. “We’re so glad you came. Whitney, why don’t you introduce Emily before we start the movie?”

Whitney grabbed my arm and yanked me to the front of room. “Hey, everyone,” she said. “This is my cousin Emily Curtis, who just moved here from up north. She’s a junior like me, and I’m so glad she’s here.”

“Hi,” I said, feeling like a moron as I waved to the sea of unfamiliar faces.

“Welcome, Emily,” Jenna said, touching my arm. “Tonight we’re going to watch a movie called
Pay It Forward
and then we’re going to discuss how it relates to our faith. You may have a seat anywhere.”

“Thanks.” I weaved through the row of tables and found a seat in the back row near the door.

Whitney stood up front talking to a girl I didn’t recognize. The bowls of popcorn made their way down the rows, and kids took handfuls and placed them on paper towels.

When a bowl got to the row in front of me, a pretty girl turned around and smiled. “Hi. I’m Mindy. Would you like some popcorn?”

“Yes, please,” I said, taking the bowl. “Thanks.”

A boy came around and handed me a can of soda. As I pulled the tab, I looked around the room. Other than the typical welcome wagon greetings, the kids here seemed a lot like the ones at my old church. Okay, maybe a little wealthier. As long as I could stay in the back, I might survive the night.

“Whitney,” one of the girls called from the door. I was pretty sure she’d sat with my cousin in church. “Can you help us with the popcorn?”

“Sure.” Whitney made her way to the back of the room, stopping at my table. “Do you want to come with us?”

“That’s okay,” I said, scooping a handful of popcorn. “I’m good.”

“I’ll be back.” Whitney followed her friend out into the hallway, closing the door behind them.

The lights dimmed and soon the movie blared through the television. I leaned back in my seat and sipped my soda in between bites of popcorn. I was engrossed in the movie when I felt someone slip into the seat beside me and swipe a handful of popcorn from my paper towel.

“Hey,” a voice said.

I turned and found Zander grinning at me. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I’m a member of the youth group.” His smile was playful. “What are you doing here?”

“I think my family staged an intervention,” I whispered. “I was pretty much pushed out the door.”

He laughed. “You really didn’t want to come, huh?”

“Shhh!” someone up front hissed.

“It’s not that,” I whispered, leaning closer to him and inhaling a spicy scent that must’ve been cologne. For a moment, the aroma made me dizzy. “I just didn’t think it would be, well, fun.”

“Are you having fun?” he whispered, leaning closer to me.

I shrugged and couldn’t stop a smile from overtaking my lips. Sitting next to him was fun, as corny as it seemed. “I guess it’s okay.”

“Quiet!” someone else hissed.

“We can’t hear,” another chimed in.

Zander took my hand and helped me to my feet then led me through the door.

“Where are we going?” I asked as he gently tugged me down the hallway.

“Somewhere we can talk without being shushed,” he said, still holding my hand.

He led me into the sanctuary, where he sank into the back pew, his hand still encircling mine. His touch made me feel as if everything was going to be okay somehow. For a split second, I hoped he wouldn’t let go. Then I felt silly and pushed the thought away. I knew that feeling of euphoria brought on by an attentive, cute guy could be very misleading.

Zander let go and my hand fell to my side. “Have a seat,” he said, patting the bench beside him.

I lowered myself into the seat next to him and glanced
toward the altar, trying in vain not to think about how I’d lost it during the service.

“I like to come in here sometimes to think. The sanctuary makes me feel at ease.” He shrugged. “I guess that makes me a little weird, huh?”

“No.” I shook my head. “That’s not weird.”

“Do you feel at ease here?”

Nope.
I studied a few strings hanging out from the hem on my shorts while considering my answer. I didn’t want to lie to him. “Not really.”

“Oh,” he said. “Do you want to go somewhere else to talk?”

“It’s okay.” I glanced up at his concerned expression.

“Would you rather watch the movie?”

“No. This is fine.”
It’s nice, actually.
I pulled my leg up onto the bench and hugged my knee.

“So, your family staged an intervention?” He rested his arm on the back of the bench behind me. “Why did they feel the need to do that?”

“They say I stay in my room too much.” The words slipped through my lips without a filter. Had the guy given me truth serum?

I watched his expression. To my surprise, he simply smiled.

“Do you think they’re right?” he asked.

I nodded. “Probably. I just don’t feel like I fit in. I mean, how many girls would rather work on cars than go shopping or have their nails done?” The imaginary truth serum continued to work its magic on me as I opened my heart to this guy I hardly knew. But it felt good to be honest, and I liked talking to him. It felt as if he listened without judgment. Who knew I’d like youth group?

“Liking cars doesn’t make you weird. It just makes you different.” He ran a hand through his hair and glanced toward the altar. “I know what you mean, though, about being different.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.” He crossed his ankles and cleared his throat. “I guess you could say my dad has big plans for my future and none of them involve cars.”

I studied his face, looking for regret or sadness, but his expression was unreadable. “What are those plans?”

“Medical school,” he said. “Not everyone is cut out to be a doctor, but he doesn’t want to hear that. He’s a doctor, his father was a doctor, and his father’s father was a doctor. Stewart boys are supposed to grow up to be doctors, so I’m different. Too different for his liking.”

“Man.” I shook my head. “That stinks.”

“Oh well,” he said with a sigh. “Dr. Stewart will have to get over it or die ticked off, I guess.”

I studied his eyes, wondering what made Zander tick.

“Why are you a Zander as opposed to an Alec or an Alex?” I asked.

He smiled. “That was my brother’s doing. Andrew was four when I was born, and he couldn’t say Alexander or Alex. The story goes that he called me something sounding like Sander or Zander, and it stuck.”

“So, you’re never Alex or Alexander?”

“Only when my parents aren’t pleased.” Smirking, he turned toward me. “Last year I came home to find my father studying my report card. I knew I was in trouble. He looked up and he said, ‘Alexander Lee Stewart, this is appalling. A D in Biology? How could you get a D in Biology? Andrew got straight As. He aced Biology.’ “ Zander folded his arms across his chest. “Then he told me I couldn’t work during the week anymore. As if that would help my average.”

“Does your dad compare you to your brother a lot?”

He shrugged. “Everyone once in a while. I learned a long time ago to tune it out.”

“Do you resent that?” I asked. “I mean the comparison. Do you resent your brother for it?”

He shook his head. “It’s not Andrew’s fault he’s my dad’s favorite or that he chose to follow in my father’s footsteps while I didn’t. And he earned his straight As and worked his butt off to be the quarterback and all that. I can’t resent him for that. It just wasn’t what I wanted to do.” He tapped his right knee. “I tried football, but my knee couldn’t take it. And school isn’t really my thing. I guess you could say I don’t apply myself.”

I grinned. “You seem to apply yourself to cars.”

“Dad doesn’t see it like that. He sees a lot of wasted hours and money. Whereas Andrew is going to make a difference in the world as a pediatrician.”

I studied his expression but didn’t find any resentment toward his brother. His words were more matter-of-fact than envious, and that fascinated me. “Are you and Andrew close?”

He nodded. “Yeah, we get along well. I haven’t seen him in a while, but he calls me just about once a week to tell me what he’s up to and to find out if I’ve gotten the car running yet.”