“No. I came in to pick up the candy bars and…” She let her sentence trail off, deciding it might be rude to assume Jon was still planning to give her paycheck to her early.
“That's right. I almost forgot. Could you watch the register anyway? I'll be right back.”
For some reason, Christy felt funny walking behind the counter and standing by the register when it wasn't her day to work. It almost seemed like she was sneaking into a place she didn't belong.
Just then a man who had been in the back of the store came up to the register with a large bag in his arms. He looked slightly familiar, but Christy wasn't sure where she had seen him before.
He dropped the bag onto the counter with a thump and said, “Glad to see you finally got someone around here who knows how to order your stuff for you.”
The label on the bag said “Birdseed.” Then Christy remembered when she had seen this man before.
Without letting on that she recognized him, she quickly rang up the sale and hoped he would leave quietly, without causing a scene like last time.
“Two dollars for a candy bar?” the man bellowed when he read the sign on the box. 'What kind of highway robbery is that? And what kind of a pet store sells food for humans? There's probably some city ordinance against that. What kind of city would let some jerk sell food for humans and food for animals over the same counter?”
“Here's your change, sir,” Christy said, her hand shaking.
He snatched the three one-dollar bills from her and, grappling with his bag of birdseed, stormed off.
“Another satisfied customer, I see,” Jon said, coming up to the front.
“What's with that guy? And by the way, thanks for letting me be the one to wait on him.” Christy slung her backpack over her shoulder and stepped away from the register, indicating she was now off duty.
“Aw, don't let him bother you. He likes being miserable. He's in here at least once a week, and he always finds something to gripe about. What was it this time?”
“The candy bars. But that's okay, because I'm taking them, and he won't be able to call the city officials and have them fine you for selling dog food and chocolate over the same counter.” Christy did a quick count of the bars left in the box and asked, “Are there any more in back?”
“That's the last of them,” Jon said, reaching in his pocket. “My sister called and said they were good, so here.”
He stuck a wad of money in Christy's hand. “I'll buy the rest of them.”
“You don't have to do that,” Christy protested. Uncrumpling the bill in her hand and realizing it was a twenty, she said, “This is too much. There are only three candy bars left. That's six dollars, not twenty.”
“Keep the change,” Jon said. “Buy yourself a snow cone or something this weekend. Buy one for your friend too. What's her name? Katie?”
“Yeah, Katie. Thanks, Jon. This is really generous of you.”
Jon reached into the box and pulled out the three remaining candy bars. “Here,” he said, tossing one to Christy. “Have a candy bar. And here.” He tossed her another one. “Give this one to Katie.”
Then he unwrapped the third bar and bit into it. 'Your paycheck and the envelope with the candy money are in the cash register. Let me get it for you.”
Christy decided to join Jon in devouring the final candy bars. She unwrapped the one he had tossed to her and discovered it had almonds. She hated nuts. Then she remembered how she had tried macadamia nuts on her frozen yogurt when she was in Maui. She had liked them. Maybe she would like these almonds.
She let the first bite melt slowly in her mouth until all that was left was the almond. Then, with a crunch, she chewed it up and swallowed.
“Here you go.” Jon handed Christy the two envelopes. “Have a great time, don't break any bones, and see you back here at work next Friday.”
“Thanks again,” Christy said, taking another bite of the chocolate-and-almond experiment. She decided her dislike of nuts must have been a childhood thing. To her sixteen-year-old palate, there was nothing about nuts to dislike.
“Oh, before you go, I wanted to ask you something,” Jon said. “What church do you go to?”
Christy couldn't believe he was asking, her. This might be the opportunity to witness she had been praying for. She quickly swallowed the chunk of chocolate and almonds.
After she told Jon the name of her church, she watched as he pulled out a piece of paper and a pen.
“How do you get there?” he asked, carefully writing down the directions. “And what time does church start?”
Christy gave him all the information. Then because her curiosity was killing her, she asked, “Why? I mean, how did you know I was a Christian?”
“When you applied for this job,” Jon stated, “you wrote on the application you wouldn't work on Sundays, so I figured you went to church somewhere. Then I've been watching you to see if you lived all those things they teach in church about being honest and not stealing and all that.”
Christy's eyebrows went up as she waited for him to finish.
“So far, so good. I like what I see.”
This is too good to be true! God is answering my prayer about witnessing to Jon. And I haven't even said anything.
Feeling excited and a bit proud of her strong Christian example, Christy said, “So you're saying that because you see Jesus in me, you're interested in going to church?”
“No,” Jon answered.
Christy tried not to let the disappointment and puzzlement show on her face.
“I asked about church because I have an old friend from college who's coming to stay with me over Thanksgiving. He's one of those born agains,' and I know he's going to want to go to a church around here on Sunday, if not on Thanksgiving too. You're the only one I know who goes to church.”
She didn't want this witnessing opportunity to die such a humiliating death, so Christy mustered her courage and said, “Why don't you go with him, Jon? I think you'd like my church.”
A slight smile crept across Jon's face. “You've got me targeted now, don't you? I guess I don't mind a little nudge toward heaven every now and then. Just promise me you won't be like one girl who used to work here. She never said a word about being born again or anything. She just left these little…what are they called? Tracts? Well, she left them everywhere around the store, only she did it in secret. Guess she thought nobody would figure out who they were from.”
Jon shook his head, still grinning. 'We used to call her the Easter Bunny.”
Christy breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn't tried the same technique with her cards and booklets.
“I say if you're going to believe something, then believe it enough to take a stand and not be sneaky about it.” Jon looked directly at Christy.
Words bubbled up in Christy's heart and tumbled out of her mouth before she had a chance to critique them. “I believe you need to turn your life over to God.”
“Oh, you do?” Now Jon was laughing.
Christy knew him well enough to realize that he was genuinely amused.
“Well now, I like that, Christy. You believe something strongly enough to say it. I admire you for that. You might try a little tact with your honesty. But I wouldn't be surprised if you told me you're praying for me.”
Christy's boldness began to evaporate, and she could feel her cheeks flushing under Jon's intense gaze. In a much smaller voice, she said, “As a matter of fact, I have been praying for you.”
Now Jon was surprised. “I guess it can't hurt,” he said, slipping behind the counter to help a customer who” was approaching the cash register.
“Have a great weekend.” Jon smiled his good-bye.
The next day at lunch, Christy delivered to Katie the money from Jon, along with a rundown on her witnessing opportunity.
“Can you imagine what would have happened if you had given him that card and tract?” Katie asked.
“I know. Makes me think how much easier my life
would be if I wouldn't try to run ahead of God,” Christy said, sticking her hand into her lunch bag.
“Oh, look what I have for you!” She presented Katie with the candy bar. “A gift from Jon.”
“Looks like you and I are going on a ski trip tomorrow!” Katie said excitedly. “Let's celebrate. I'll share the final candy bar with you to salute our victory over the near-fiasco fund-raiser.”
Katie broke the bar in two, handed the larger piece to Christy, and then held up her half. “Here's to the best friend anyone could ever have—Christy Miller! I couldn't have made it without you, Chris.”
“Sure you could have. I wouldn't have made it without Aunt Marti. I never thought I'd say this, but here's to Aunt Marti.”
The two girls chomped into their chocolate at the same time.
“So are you beginning to feel those chemicals affecting your brain yet?” Christy asked as soon as she swallowed the first bite.
Katie blushed and said, “He called me again last night. I'm kind of sorry we're not going to be around for Bible study or church. I think Glen might be getting a little more confident. After all these long talks on the phone, he's bound to sit by me at church pretty soon, don't you think?”
“Well, if you feel that strongly about seeing him, we could back out of the ski trip,” Christy ventured.
“Are you kidding? After all we've been through with the fund-raiser and everything? No way! We're committed to this trip, Christy.” Katie added with a twinkle, “Glen will just have to wait for me to return, because I'm the kind of girl who is worth waiting for.”
“You are, Katie. And don't you ever forget it!”
Christy began to pack for the trip the minute she arrived home from school. She rolled the ski clothes because they fit better in her bag that way. The tough part was deciding what else to bring. She started with two pairs of sweats, but they were too bulky. She managed to narrow it down to one pair of sweatpants and two sweatshirts. The turtlenecks and T-shirts fit easily. The choice of sweaters became tricky, and in the end, she took only one and decided to wear the other one to school tomorrow.
“How's it coming?” Mom asked, popping her head into Christy's room.
“I think I have it all stuffed in.” Christy wrestled with the big black zipper on top of her bag.
“Did you include some tights? And how about your mittens?”
Christy let the zipper go and flopped backward on the floor. “No,” she moaned. “I forgot all my underwear too.”
“Looks like you need a bigger bag,” Mom said with a chuckle.
“We're only allowed to bring one.”
“Yes, but it doesn't have to be a small one, does it? I think there's one in the garage that's a little bigger. I'll be right back.”
Mom returned with an old, beat-up green army duffel bag that was definitely bigger than the newer slick black one Christy had been cramming her stuff into.
“Mom, that old thing is falling apart, and it's totally ugly. I wouldn't want to be caught dead carrying that thing.”
Even though Mom looked like she was about to correct Christy, she only dropped the green bag on the floor and said, “Then you work it out. Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes.”
Now Christy sat alone on her bedroom floor, half of her wanting to pout like a little girl and the other half demanding that she act like an independent young woman packing for a ski trip. It was up to her to decide if she wanted to take everything she needed and be seen with the ugly bag or take fewer clothes in the cool-looking bag.
Dumping everything out on the floor, she reevalu-ated what she actually needed and what she could leave behind. She needed everything, and more. It looked like the ugly bag was the only way to go. How frustrating and how humiliating. It even smelled disgusting.
As they were finishing dinner, Mom casually asked if Christy had managed to work out her packing situation.
“Yes,” Christy mumbled into her forkful of peas, “I'm taking the green bag.”
“I think you'll be glad you did,” Mom said, standing and beginning to clear the table. “Oh, by the way, this came in the mail today for you. Any idea what it is?”
Mom picked up a small slip of paper off the cluttered part of the counter and handed it to Christy. It was a notice from the post office indicating there was a package being held for Christy Miller, and the package had postage due.
“It doesn't say who it's from,” Christy said, turning the slip over and examining the back. “All it says is 57 cents is due on a package.”
“Let me see it. Who's it from?” David asked.
“I don't know. I haven't ordered anything lately. I have all the ski stuff Aunt Marti was sending.”
“It should have the zip code it was sent from on it,” Dad said, putting out his hand. “May I have a look?”
Christy handed him the slip, and Dad said, “It was sent from 96817. Has to be somewhere on the West Coast. I thought maybe your grandmother had sent something, but her zip wouldn't start with a nine.”
“Can you pick it up for me tomorrow?” Christy asked. “I'm leaving right after school for the ski trip, so I won't be able to get to the post office until Monday.”
“Sure. Leave it where I'll see it,” Mom said.
I wonder who sent me a package. What could it possibly be?
proved to be nearly impossible by fifth period Wednesday afternoon. The teachers were already in vacation mode, and the students, whether they had weekend plans or not, were talking about anything and everything but class work.
When the final bell rang, Christy hurried to the teachers' lounge and found Katie already there, digging her luggage out of the heap.
“I have your bag, Christy. It's over there by the couch. Do you have your backpack and your jacket?”
“My jacket is still in my locker. I'm going to run and get it and put these books back. Do you need anything from your locker?”
“I'm all set. I'll wait here for you.”
Christy bustled her way through the loud, crowded hallway, surprised that her heart was beating so hard and fast.
I guess I thought this day would never come. I thought something would happen, and we'd never actually go on the trip. But now it's here, and I'm going—green bag and all. So I'd better make the best of it and stop being a chicken.
She spun through the combination on her lock, grabbed her jacket, crammed in her books, and met Katie back in the teachers' lounge, all in about five minutes.
Katie had on her backpack, her jacket was tied around her waist, her bag was slung over her shoulder, and her sleeping bag was tucked under her arm. “Mr. Riley said to carry our stuff out to the van in the parking lot. Are you ready?”
“I think so.” Christy grabbed her bulky green duffel bag and looped her carry-on over her shoulder. With the other hand, she snatched her sleeping bag and jacket.
“No offense,” Katie said, eyeing the drab monster bag, “but didn't you have any other suitcases or anything? You look like you're going to boot camp.”
Christy did take offense at the comment—not because it was Katie who said it, but because she had almost convinced herself that the duffel bag was not a big deal and that no one would even notice it. To have Katie comment on it meant all her fears of being rejected by the entire ski club were, in fact, well-founded.
“Let's just go.”, Christy pushed past Katie to the door. Maybe if they hurried, Mr. Riley would load their stuff first, and no one else would notice her bag.
But by the time they arrived at the van, they were the last to deliver their bags. To Christy's chagrin, her bag was placed on top of the heap. The van door was slammed shut, and her bag was the only one showing. In fact, it took up the whole back window.
The worst part was that her dad had decided last night to mark the bag for her, as if someone else would happen to bring a bag that looked exactly like hers. With a black permanent marker he had written “MILLER” in huge letters across the side. Of course, that was the side fac
ing out. Not only would the whole school know that Christy Miller belonged to that ugly green bag, but all who drove past them from here to Lake Tahoe would also know.
Everyone else had already claimed a seat inside the van. Christy and Katie found two tight-squeeze spots left on the front bench seat, right behind the driver. Definitely not the cool place to sit.
Christy slid in first, next to the window, feeling like everyone was watching her. It was one thing to show up at a meeting for the ski club with these people scattered around a classroom. There it didn't matter that no one knew her name or paid attention to her. But it felt completely different to be jammed into a van with these same people and to know that they would be together in tight quarters for the next four days.
Feeling hot from embarrassment and from the warm ski sweater she was wearing, Christy tried to open the window next to her. She pushed and pinched but couldn't figure it out.
Katie leaned over and released the catch in an instant. The window slid open easily. With a laugh and in a loud voice, Katie said, “You have to be smarter than the window, Miller.”
Christy bore her eyes into her sudden traitor-friend and kept shooting visual darts until Katie caught on that her comment had hurt. It was bad enough that the slam had been inflicted in front of all these strangers, but Christy wondered why Katie suddenly called her “Miller.” Was it so they would all know she was the Miller who went with the green monster bag?
“Hey, it was only a joke,” Katie said. “Take a chill pill, Christy. You're not freaking out on me, are you?”
What are you doing, Katie? What's with this slang all of a sudden? Are you trying to show these people you're cool, and I'm not?
Just then Mr. Riley climbed into the driver's seat, and his blond, athletic-looking wife joined him in the front passenger seat.
“Hey, Don, I need your medical release form,” Mr. Riley yelled to the back of the van.
“Oh, man!” Don rose from his prime spot and said, “It's in my locker. I'll be right back.”
“Hustle, Donald!” Mr. Riley called after him. “It's not fair for you to keep the rest of the group waiting.”