Was it school? Probably. She flat out didn’t want to be in high school anymore. That was it. She wanted to be in college and be around college students like she was in England. That’s where she belonged.
Then a vague thought fluttered through her mind. It was something Katie had said one of their nights at Carnforth. Something about how she was homesick for being in high school. At the same time Sierra had thought it was a strange thing to say, but it seemed even stranger now since Sierra couldn’t wait to grow up.
Will I be sorry for pushing ahead so fast? Will I wish I took my time and enjoyed high school more?
Sierra still wanted to transfer to the public high school. That way she could slip right into the crowd. She didn’t need to be popular like she was in Pineville. She just wanted this next year and a half to slip by as fast as possible. It would go much faster if she were lost in a school of several thousand students.
Her determination to leave Royal Academy kept her in a monotone sort of mood all the next day. She spoke only when spoken to and then responded as simply as possible. In her mind, all she had to do was finish out the week, as she had agreed to, and then she could discuss with her parents why she should go to public school. They had always been fair about hearing her side of things. Certainly they would agree with her that public school was the best route for her to go.
To make sure there were no wrinkles in her relationship with her parents, Sierra came right home from school on Thursday and even helped her mom give Brutus his bath, all without being asked.
Brutus was a fun-loving Saint Bernard they had owned for the past three years. Even though Sierra wasn’t crazy about animals in general, she did love Brutus.
In Pineville, Brutus was king of the neighborhood. He roamed around freely but always showed up on time for dinner. Everyone in the neighborhood loved Brutus.
Since they had moved to Portland, Brutus had been acting strange. He moped around all day and begged to go inside the boys’ clubhouse whenever anyone was in it. Brutus seemed uninterested in checking out the neighborhood or marking his territory.
Mom thought a bath might help. Sierra didn’t understand the logic but agreed to assist in the sudsy mess. As soon as they plunged Brutus into the downstairs tub, he turned into a two-hundred-pound jellyfish.
“Come on, boy,” Mom coaxed. “You have to help us out here. Stand up so we can scrub you all nice and clean.”
The downstairs tub was the original cast-iron claw-foot and was difficult to maneuver around. Brutus filled the entire tub and seemed only interested in licking the faucet with his great pink tongue. Sierra and her mom scrubbed and rubbed and sweet-talked the big guy until the smell of wet dog was almost overpowering in the small bathroom.
“Are we going to dry him off in here?” Sierra asked.
“We could haul him to the kitchen, but I think he would only make more of a mess in there. Let’s try it in here.” Mom turned off the water after the final rinse.
Getting the big lug over the high sides of the tub was a real challenge. He didn’t want to get out. That wasn’t like Brutus either. He used to fight his baths in Pineville, and the minute he was freed, he was out of there, shaking like crazy.
“Look at him,” Sierra said. “He’s turned into a big baby. Come on, Brutus. Lift your paws. That’s it. Over the side. Now the back paws. Okay, good. Now you stand right there and let us towel you off.”
For the first time in history, Brutus complied.
“It’s as if he’s depressed,” Sierra said, wiping the mellow dog dry.
“Do you think he misses home?” Mom asked.
“How can you make a dog understand that this is his new home?”
“I think he knows,” Mom said. “That’s why he’s bummed. He’s mourning the loss. You know what they say about how the bigger they are, the harder they fall. He’ll come around. Wes is coming home this weekend, and I’m sure that will perk Brutus up. At least Wes will make sure he exercises.”
Sierra’s oldest brother was the one who had brought Brutus home three years ago. The dog was only an armful of brown and white fur, with an endearing little pouty face. There was no way anyone could say no to keeping him, especially Sierra’s mom, who was a devoted animal lover. Wes had said the dog was for Mom. Since he was going away to college in a month, he wanted Mom to have somebody to fuss over.
“Okay, you big brute.” Mom grabbed the dog by his collar and led him out of the house. “It’s to the backyard for you. At least you smell better. Maybe you’ll start perking up a little too.”
Brutus plodded across the cold grass and stopped in front of the workshop’s door. No one was inside. He could go through his doggie door if he wanted. But Brutus curled up on the doormat and laid his jowls down on his clean white paws.
Sierra and her mom stood at the kitchen window watching. Sierra thought she could almost hear him sigh.
“Did you know the green ones aren’t good to eat?”
Sierra turned around and saw Granna Mae looking at a basket of fruit on the baker’s rack by the refrigerator.
“They’re okay, Granna Mae,” Sierra said, walking over to see what might be in the basket. There were two oranges, three red apples, and one brown-spotted banana. “There aren’t any green ones in here,” she said. “Do you want a red apple?”
“I don’t want an apple,” Granna Mae said, looking at Sierra as if she were the one who was confused. She started to hum to herself and walked away.
Sierra and her mom exchanged looks of concern.
“It’s so hard to stand by and watch a life thin out like that,” Mom said. “I want to stop the clock and turn it back.”
Sierra considered commenting on how she wished she could turn the clock forward in her life. She decided to keep that thought to herself. It wouldn’t sound right if she said it aloud.
All these thoughts pushed Sierra to do something she had been thinking about for a week. She wrote a letter to Katie, who would speak her mind and explain to Sierra why she was struggling with growing up. Sierra also wanted to tell Katie about Paul. She decided to write out the letter instead of going downstairs and trying to get in line to use the computer. Besides, she wanted to take her time with her thoughts, and this was the best way to do that.
Lying on her stomach across her unmade bed, Sierra wrote on a piece of notebook paper, “Dear Katie, Okay, tell me if you think this is a God-thing or not. When I arrived at Heathrow, I was waiting to use the phone when this guy turned around.”
twelve
ON FRIDAY AFTERNOON Sierra cleaned out her locker and took all her books home. She thought it would be easier for her mom to withdraw her from the school on Monday if she had all her books to turn in at one time. Sierra felt unemotional about her choice to leave Royal Academy. All week she had distanced herself from everything and everybody, which made it easier to walk away.
Sierra guessed it would help to take home her gym clothes as well. She walked to the girls’ dressing room and worked the combination to her locker. Some girls who were on the other side of the row of tall metal lockers seemed to be so involved in their conversation they hadn’t noticed anyone else come in.
“I think she’s stuck-up,” one of the girls said.
“That’s not a fair judgment, Marissa,” the other girl said.
“Well, look at how she has treated us all week. It’s like she’s too good for us. We’re all little peons.”
“I think we should give her a chance. Maybe invite her over with a bunch of girls and see if she opens up.”
“She’s not going to open up,” Marissa said. “I’m telling you, Sierra is totally stuck-up.”
It had not begun to register with Sierra that they might be talking about her until Marissa used her name. Then she froze. Who were these girls? What right did they have to form such an incorrect opinion of her? Being a confronter by nature, Sierra stormed around the lockers and stated, “I am not stuck-up!”
Both of the girls looked st
unned. Their mouths dropped, their eyes popped, and neither of them had anything to say. Sierra recognized them from some of her classes. With nothing else to add to her declaration, she turned and marched away, snatching up her gym clothes and storming out the door.
That’s it! That is it! I’m out of here. Who do these little prissies think they are, calling me stuck-up? I’ve never been called stuck-up in my life! I’m always the one who makes friends the fastest. I’m the one who goes out of my way to make each person feel she belongs to the group. I’m not stuck-up. They are! And that’s why I’m leaving!
Sierra unlocked the door of the Rabbit and threw her books and gym clothes onto the backseat. She wished this car had more oomph. If it did, she would peel out of that parking lot so fast that those girls in the gym would hear her tires squeal. Unfortunately, the car wasn’t made for dramatic displays of emotion. It had difficulty just cranking over when she turned the key. Sierra drove away as fast as she could, telling herself to calm down, shake it off, block the incident from her memory.
By the time she arrived home, she was even more heated up. Stomping into the house, she went right to her room. Tawni was changing clothes for work, which only infuriated Sierra more. She had no place she could go to be alone, no place that was completely hers. She scooped her clothes out of the rocking chair in the corner and heaved them over onto her bed.
“Why are you all bent out of shape?” Tawni asked, cinching a wide black belt around her slim waist.
“I hate it here,” Sierra blurted out. “I wish we didn’t have to move here. I wish we were back at home!”
“Have you even tried to make this place a home for yourself?” Tawni asked.
“Of course I have! You can’t tell me you like it here better than Pineville.” The rocker was empty and ready to soothe her, but Sierra refused to sit down.
“I love it here,” Tawni said. “You will too, if you give it a chance. Portland has so much more to offer than Pineville ever did. What set you off?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, and I’m supposed to believe that? Come on. What happened?”
“All right, you want to know? I’ll tell you. Those girls at this nice Christian school said I was stuck-up!”
“So have you been?”
“Of course not!”
“Were they friends of yours?”
“I don’t have any friends here,” Sierra said, surrendering to the rocking chair and folding her arms across her chest.
Tawni flipped her shoulder-length hair back and looked at Sierra. “You know, sometimes you amaze me. You can be so smart and so dumb at the same time, so mature and such a baby. You’re really blind to this whole thing, aren’t you? If you want to make a friend, you have to be a friend first.”
“Duh!” Sierra said, making a face at Tawni. “Maybe I don’t want to make friends here.”
“Oh, well, that’s intelligent!” Tawni grabbed her purse and headed for the door.
“You going to work?” Sierra asked. She couldn’t wait to have the room to herself. Yet at the same time, she didn’t want her sister to leave. Not yet. Not until she spilled her guts a little more.
“Yes, I’m going to work, and afterwards I’m going out for coffee with two of my new friends from the store. Watch and learn, oh stubborn one. This is how it’s done.” She opened the door and was about to leave when she turned around to deliver one final jab. “And I’ve already told Mom and Dad where I’m going and when I expect to be back, even though I don’t have to because I’m eighteen.”
Sierra picked up a slipper from the floor and heaved it at the door just as Tawni closed it. “I’m eighteen,” Sierra mimicked. She hated being sixteen. Hated, hated, hated! What a horrible age. Nothing was “sweet sixteen” about it. She could drive, but only to school and back. She had no friends, no social life, nothing to do on a Friday night but feel sorry for herself.
At least back in Pineville she had dozens of friends to hang out with, friends she earned by working hard to keep the relationship going even when it would have been easier to walk away. Tawni didn’t have to give her advice on friendships. Sierra knew all about them and could even teach a seminar on making friends, if anyone ever asked her to. But of course, no one ever asks a sixteen-year-old to do anything.
“Sierra?” Mom called out, gently tapping on her closed door. “Is it all right if I come in?”
“I guess.”
Mom opened the door and came in, with Granna Mae right behind her. Oh great, now I have double counsel. Just what I need! Sierra didn’t mind talking to her mom. And she loved talking things over with Granna Mae sometimes, too. But both of them, at the same time, when she was at about the lowest point in her life, felt suffocating.
Granna Mae sat on Tawni’s neatly made bed and cast a skeptical glance around Sierra’s mess. Mom pulled out the straight-back chair from the desk and sat facing Sierra about five feet away. They formed a tight little triangle.
“I know, my side of the room is a mess,” Sierra said, throwing up a smoke screen to sidetrack both of them. “I’ll clean it up this weekend.”
“Good,” said Mom. “I love it when you clean your room. I did want to talk with you, though, about something else.”
Sierra shrugged.
“I’ve been noticing it’s a little tough for you to make the adjustment of moving here. I wanted to know if I could do something to help out.”
“You can let me go to the public high school. I don’t want to go to Royal. I gave it a week, like you asked. It’s not my kind of school.”
“And what is your kind of school?” Granna Mae asked.
Sierra felt like saying, “A huge one where I can blend in with the crowd, make it through my next year and a half as soon as possible, and get out of there!” Instead she said, “I’m not sure. But it’s not Royal.”
“We’ll need to talk to Dad about it,” Mom said calmly. “I’m sure we’ll have some time to do that this weekend. Is there anything else besides school that’s bothering you?”
“No.”
Mom paused and then said, “Wes should be here in about an hour. I thought we would all go out for pizza tonight. You and Wesley might want to catch a movie afterwards.”
As Mom talked, Granna Mae stood up and ambled over to the antique dresser that had been in this room for several decades. She tilted her head and examined her reflection in the beveled mirror about the dresser. Sierra couldn’t help but wonder if she were slipping into one of her time warps.
Granna Mae touched the wrinkled corners of her eyes and looked closer. “Isn’t that odd,” she said. “Why, just yesterday I was twelve. I’m quite sure of it.”
Sierra and Mom exchanged quick looks.
“Or maybe we’ll order a couple of pizzas and have them delivered,” Mom said quietly. Sierra thought her mother must have been concerned about trying to take Granna Mae out to a pizza parlor when she was in a confused state of mind.
“You know,” Granna Mae said, turning to face them, “it goes just like that.” She snapped her wrinkled fingers and looked at Sierra. “It will come soon enough, Lovey.” She headed for the door and said, “I’m going downstairs for a cup of coffee. Would either of you care to join me?”
Now Sierra and her mom were even more surprised. Granna Mae had called her Lovey, an indicator of which time zone she was functioning in. So what was the look in the mirror for and the speech about being twelve only yesterday? Sierra couldn’t help but wonder if Granna Mae understood Sierra’s passion to be all grown up and was, in her quirky way, trying to tell Sierra to slow down.
“Sure,” Mom said, “I’ll go with you.”
“And I’ll clean my room,” Sierra said, “which I’m sure will make both of you happy.”
“Tawni will be the most delighted,” Mom said as she followed Granna Mae out of the room.
Sierra sat in the chair for a while, rocking back and forth. The she went over to the antique mirror and looked into it closely, the way
Granna Mae had. She almost expected it to be an enchanted mirror that would reflect back her image at sixty-eight years old. All she saw was her freckled nose, her wild hair, and blue-gray eyes that were not yet wrinkled. She smiled and tried to wrinkle them up the way her dad’s did when he was laughing hard or trying not to cry. She thought it made her look kind of old. She uncrinkled them and looked again.
They are the same color as Paul’s, she realized. That flight attendant was right. We do have the same eyes. If only we saw things from the same perspective.
Then, as Sierra had done dozens of times that week, she prayed for Paul.
thirteen
“WHAT DO YOU GUYS WANT? Pepperoni and what else?” Wes stood next to his father at the order window of the Flying Pie Pizzeria and called to the rest of them.
Wes took after Mom’s side of the family. He was tall, with lots of wavy brown hair, and a long straight nose. His eyes were like Dad’s, brown and crinkly in the corners.
“I want pineapple,” Gavin said.
“Olives,” said Dillon.
“Why don’t we try to find a table?” Mom suggested. “How many are we tonight?”
“Seven,” Sierra said, taking a quick count. The room was full, which was probably a sign this was a good place to eat. The women and boys threaded their way to the back of the darkened eating area and managed to find a large booth in the corner. If they could locate an extra chair for the end, they would all fit. This is how it always was when their large family went anywhere. It was frustrating, though, since most places were designed with a family of four in mind.
The pizza parlor was cozy, with red vinyl seats, checkered plastic tablecloths, metal pizza stands on each table, and red patio candles underneath the stands to keep the pizza warm. On the ceiling above Sierra was a table and two chairs hung upside down, complete with tablecloth, plastic food, and even a flower in a vase. It was all securely suspended, yet Sierra wondered if an illusion like that might throw Granna Mae into confusion. She seemed to be doing fine.