Prince Tennyson

  Chapter Nine

  I HATE WEDNESDAYS.

  Already this one was shaping up to be a doozy. I’d managed to eat my breakfast, knock over my little brother’s bowl of cereal, and then slip on it when I went to clean it up. Yep. Milk and cereal were all over me.

  Nice.

  It had already been one week and one day since I made the biggest mistake of my life. You know, the one where I stupidly planned my dad’s special day for a Wednesday? Why did I do that, anyway? I knew better than that. It was like the sneaky little Wednesday fairy was laughing at me and had secretly planned this all along.

  I wish there were a sneaky little Wednesday fairy, because then I’d smash it. I was in that kind of mood.

  Sigh.

  Hannah would hate me if I smashed a fairy. Ugh. Then I would have to clap and clap and say, “I believe in fairies,” until it came back alive and tormented me on Wednesdays all over again.

  Last Wednesday was the worst day I’d had since I moved here. I thought it was the week before that, but I was wrong. My mom was mad at me for planning a special day for my dad without asking her. I didn’t think she would be mad, but she was.

  Because it was Dad’s birthday.

  She said, “What were you thinking, Chelsea? I can’t possibly face people on that day! You know what I was like last year—do you want to see that again?” She folded her arms and then looked sad. “Aww, man, but this sounds like such a good thing. I would’ve loved to have come, but now I can’t.”

  “I can change it, Mom,” I was quick to point out. “It doesn’t have to be that day. Then you can come.” The thought had already crossed my mind like a hundred times to change it—but I wanted to ask her first, because it was Dad’s birthday and all.

  Just as I had been getting excited because I thought Mom would let me change the day, she said, “No. You better keep it on his birthday. It would’ve made Dad especially happy if you did.”

  It would’ve made Dad especially happy.

  It would’ve made Dad especially happy.

  What was I supposed to do? I knew it would be a disaster. I knew anything and everything that could go wrong would. But I couldn’t not do it then. Not if there was the slightest possibility that God existed and Dad was living with Him and somehow knew about his special day. Not if there was some way I could find to make my dad happy.

  So I was determined.

  I was going to suck it up and enjoy that Wednesday. Even if it killed me.

  I knelt on the floor and began to wipe up the spilled milk from my brother’s bowl with a washrag.

  “Chelsea! What is going on? Why is there a mess all over you and all over my floor?” Grandma Haney’s voice startled me.

  “Sorry, Grandma,” I said as I soaked up more of the spilled milk and squeezed it into Cameron’s bowl. He was crying. It was probably what made my grandma come into the kitchen in the first place. “It was an accident.”

  “Well, move over.” Grandma’s voice was rough. “Good grief. You better go change your clothes so you and your sister aren’t late for school.” She sighed. “And hurry up, will you?”

  “Okay.” I left fast. That’s all I needed—to get to school late, too.

  Mom stopped me in the hall. “Chelsea! Why are your clothes all wet? What happened?”

  “Not now, Mom. I’ve got to change before Grandma gets mad.” I pushed past her.

  “Chelsea Elaine Tennyson, you get back here right now and tell me you’re sorry. You do not take that tone with me.”

  Wow. I turned back around. “Sorry.” I let out a sigh. “Look, I dumped Cameron’s cereal all over me and I’ve got to hurry so Grandma can take me to school on time.”

  “Hmm. That’s better.” Mom smiled. “Just don’t be so sassy next time, okay?”

  Double wow. “Okay, Mom, I promise.”

  “Good.” She leaned forward and placed a kiss right on my forehead. “Now hurry up. Don’t forget, tonight at seven in my room.”

  Startled, I stared after her until she turned the corner and went into the kitchen.

  Two things were very amazing about that conversation. One, Mom was aware enough to tell me not to be rude. The past year or so, she’s sort of been in a hazy mist or something, and she hasn’t really remembered to think about small stuff like making me apologize. So she must really be getting better. That made me happy.

  Oh, and the second amazing thing was, Mom smiled like she wasn’t really mad—she was just trying to teach me a lesson. I think she’s getting happier, too. Maybe Grandma Haney’s house was just what Mom needed to help her feel normal.

  Of course, when I went into my mom’s room at seven that night to read in that Luke chapter some more, she got sad again. Really sad. We were reading the big number seven. Mom would read one verse and then I would read one verse. We didn’t get very far before my mom started to cry. It was saying something about this boy who had died and Jesus brought him back to life. Mom cried really hard then. She stopped reading and pushed the book away from her.

  When I asked her what was wrong, she just wiped her eyes and said, “It’s not fair, that’s all, Chelsea. It’s just not fair.”

  I already knew she meant it wasn’t fair that Jesus saved that little boy but didn’t save Dad. I knew that, but Mom was talking to me and I didn’t want her to stop, so I asked, “Why? What’s not fair?” just like how Hannah would’ve.

  Mom sighed and hugged her old pink frilly pillow to her. “Everything, honey. It’s why I’m not sure God’s real. This book says that He is, but I begged Him and begged Him to keep Dad safe, but He didn’t, did he? Except, in here,” she pointed to the book, “someone just walks up to Jesus and says ‘please save my son’ and he does, just like that. It’s not real life. People aren’t saved like that. So it’s hard for me, because I wish more than anything that it was true, but…” Mom stopped and looked away. Her voice got softer. “I don’t like reading the Bible sometimes because of stuff like this, okay?”

  Uh-oh. “So does that mean you don’t want to help me find out if God is real or not?”

  I looked down at my shirt and waited while my mom cried some more. Finally she sniffed and said, “No. It doesn’t mean that. I promised I would help you, so I won’t back out on that, but we might have to go slower some days and not read so much, okay?”

  I let out a secret sigh of relief and nodded my head. “Okay.”

  Chapter Ten

  AT SCHOOL ON FRIDAY, there were a lot of us playing on the playground. Sarah, Jasmine, and I had decided to form our very own club called the Shooting Stars. We even found the perfect place for it, under the big jungle gym in the little room on the bottom, that no one ever went in.

  “This is so cool,” Jasmine gasped as we climbed in and sat down.

  “I know!” Sarah giggled. “We can talk about whatever, and no one can bug us.”

  I grinned. “So what do you want to talk about?”

  “Did you see Simon get in trouble with the lunch lady?” Jasmine asked.

  “Yeah,” Sarah and I replied together.

  “He was so mean, though. I hate mean people.” Sarah stretched her legs out in front of her. Her feet came just inches from me.

  “I don’t want to talk about Simon,” I said. “He’s a boy. We should talk about cool stuff—stuff that happens with us.”

  Jasmine shrugged. “Okay, so I have dance class tonight. Do you guys do ballet or something?”

  “No, but I play soccer. I have a game tomorrow,” I answered.

  “Really?” Sarah gave me a funny look. “You play soccer? My brothers play soccer. I don’t do any sports, though.”

  “Oh.” I tried to make it sound like it was no big deal. “It’s just something my grandma made me do when we moved here. She said it was good for me to go out of the house and get some exercise.”

  “Yeah, that’s why I’m in dance.” Jasmine smiled.

  I would’ve said something else, but right then some boys came and st
arted yelling, “You have a stupid club! You have a stupid club!” so we had to go out and chase them to make them stop.

  Boys are really fast runners, but thank goodness, Jasmine was faster. She’s faster than some of the kids on my soccer team. She ran so fast that she pushed the boy, Tyler, who was yelling the loudest, “Stupid club! Stupid Club!” He didn’t fall, and none of the recess monitor ladies saw, but he was sure mad, and he went after the slowest girls. That was me and Sarah.

  He got really close to Sarah. He tried to grab her jacket, but she just screeched and jumped away. That left me. Tyler grabbed my sweater and said, “Stop!”

  I tried to pull away but he had already caught my arms. So I yelled really loud so the recess monitors could hear me. “Help! Tyler won’t leave me alone!”

  No one heard me. We were out by the grass anyway. Sarah and Jasmine had run so far past us that I couldn’t even see them. It was just me and Tyler. We were both breathing pretty hard. After a lot of deep breaths, I finally asked him. “So, now what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know.” Tyler tightened his hold, probably thinking I would try to get away. “I’m figuring that out.”

  “Well, I’m kind of tired. Do you think we could sit down until you decide?” There was no way I could escape—we both knew it. Tyler Johnson was really tall and a lot faster than me. I figured maybe if I could sit down, he’d get bored and leave me alone. “Oh, uh, sure. I guess we could sit by that tree over there.” He walked me over to the tree that was even farther away from the screaming, happy kids on the playground.

  When we sat down, Tyler just held one of my arms and let the other one go.

  “Thanks. It kind of hurt when you had both my arms.”

  “Oh, sorry.” He shrugged and held my arm a little bit tighter, but not too tight. “You’d just better not try to get away.”

  “I won’t.” I nodded, just in case Tyler didn’t hear me. Then I waited for him to decide what to do. After we sat there for a while watching the other kids play, I asked, “So, why don’t you like our club?”

  He looked over, really surprised with his eyebrows raised, and said, “I don’t know. Just cuz it’s a girls’ club, and girls’ clubs are stupid.”

  “So are boys’ clubs.” I picked up a piece of grass and threw it. It landed about six inches from my feet. Darn. I was hoping it would go a lot farther.

  Tyler took a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ve known some pretty dumb boys’ clubs.”

  I didn’t know what else to say, because I had known some pretty dumb boys’ clubs too, but I didn’t want to sound rude. “Oh.”

  After a couple of minutes more of us both picking grass and throwing it, Tyler asked, “So is it true that you have a dad who was a prince, or something?”

  I rubbed my hand on my jeans—I didn’t want to pick grass anymore. I watched some boys chase a little girl in a bright yellow dress around the basketball court. “Yeah. It’s true.” I glanced over at Tyler and was surprised to see him looking straight at me. My eyes dropped to my feet and I brought them up to tuck under my legs. “It’s just his nickname, though. He’s not—he’s not really a prince.”

  My hair fell forward as I put my elbow on my knee and leaned over on my hand. I didn’t push my hair away; I liked it covering my face. Instead, I looked out toward the swings and watched some kids as they pumped their legs back and forth.

  Tyler was still watching me. I could feel his eyes as they stared at the side of my head. It felt really weird.

  “Chelsea, is it true that your dad died in Iraq?”

  I was afraid he would ask that. I moved my head so more of my hair covered my face. Tyler’s hand tightened on my arm, and I knew he waited for my answer.

  I had to answer him. If I didn’t, it would be worse.

  I know.

  I closed my eyes from the girl whose feet stretched to the sky on the swing. She was smiling. She was free, and the sun shone right down on her smiling face. I didn’t want to see her anymore. I didn’t want to see her feel like she was flying.

  Swinging used to be my favorite. My dad would swing me higher than all the other kids at the park. I would fly. The sun shone right down on my smiling face. I was free.

  I will never be free again.

  Not like that. Not the way it was with my dad.

  All at once I didn’t want to be caught by Tyler anymore and I definitely didn’t want to answer his questions. I jerked my arm away and stood up.

  “Chelsea?”

  I ran away. I ran as fast as I could, all the way to the back of the grass field in the playground. The part where the kids weren’t supposed to go. It felt so good to be out there, away from everyone else. When I found a spot behind another tree, I collapsed right to the ground so no one could see me. Then I tucked my knees up to my chest and rested my head on top and closed my eyes tight from everything. My hair spilled all around my legs and made my own secret cave so I couldn’t see out. I covered my ears so I couldn’t hear the other kids laughing behind me, even if they were across the park—I didn’t want to hear them. I didn’t want to hear anything, not even my tears.

  Chapter Eleven

  I COULD HEAR MY tears. I wished they were quieter, but they weren’t.

  “Chelsea? Chelsea?”

  Tyler’s voice sounded far away. I thought he was still calling me from the other tree by the playground until he touched my arm. I uncovered my ears, but kept my head down.

  “Chelsea, why did you run away? Did I make you sad?”

  Great. Wonderful. I hated questions like that. Why else would I run away? “No,” I lied. I didn’t want to tell him the truth.

  “Oh, good, cuz I thought I made you sad.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  I heard Tyler sit down next to me and I could feel the tree move as he leaned against the back of it. He didn’t touch me. “You know you’re not supposed to be out here, right? Maybe they didn’t tell you when you came here, but we can’t go past the field over to this part of the playground.”

  “I know.”

  “Oh.” Tyler sighed. I thought he would leave when I didn’t say anything else, but instead he said, “I’m sorry your dad died in Iraq.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut tighter. My heart hurt so badly.

  I wanted Tyler to just leave me alone and go away, so I ignored him. I hoped it would work, but it didn’t.

  “I know how you feel, though,” Tyler said quietly. “My grandpa died last year. He was my favorite grandpa, too. He used to take me to all sorts of places and we’d do lots of stuff. Cool stuff like camping and fishing and four-wheeling and baseball games and stuff.” Tyler moved a bit. “I miss my grandpa so much. My dad doesn’t do any of the cool things my grandpa did. Now I don’t have anyone to do those things with.”

  I opened my eyes and peeked out through my hair. I could see the road behind the chain-link fence in front of me. “Really?” My voice sounded funny.

  “Yeah.”

  I shook my head a little bit so some of the hair would move out of the way. “Where is your grandpa right now? Do you know?”

  I don’t think Tyler understood me exactly because he said, “I just told you—he died.”

  “I know.” I took a deep breath and wiped my eyes and face. Then I sat up straighter and looked right at that road. “I meant, where did he go when he died?”

  “Oh.” Tyler brought his legs out in front of him. “He went to heaven. Just like everyone does.” I wondered if he would say that. I turned around and stared right at him. “How do you know that? How did you find out?”

  Tyler looked really shocked for a minute. Then he lowered his eyebrows and looked at me funny. “What do you mean?”

  “Heaven. How do you know your grandpa is in heaven? Did someone tell you that, or did you find out for yourself?”

  He watched me really long and hard. He even turned on his bum and looked right at me. I didn’t look away. I wanted him to know I was ser
ious and I wanted him to know I needed a real answer, not something he would say just to make me happy, like I was a little kid. I wanted the truth.

  “Everyone told me that’s where he went.”

  “Oh.” My shoulders sagged and I glanced at the ground.

  “But it didn’t matter that they said it, because I already knew that he did.”

  I stared into his brown eyes. “How? How did you already know?”

  “Because it was here.” Tyler pointed to his chest. “Right here.”

  “What?” That was the answer? It was in his chest?

  “I could feel God inside. Like something was warm and burning and soft and nice and like—“

  “Burning? God felt like burning?” I didn’t think I wanted to feel burning.

  “No.” Tyler sat up on his knees. “Not like I was on fire. But it was good. Like hot chocolate going all the way down to my chest and stomach and making me all warm.”

  I nodded. I liked hot chocolate. “So that’s how you know? You can feel God?” I couldn’t believe it was that easy. I had to know more. “How did you feel Him? What were you doing to make your chest warm? Were you reading the Bible?”

  “The Bible? No.” Tyler smirked.

  “What were you doing, then? Where were you?”

  “I…” Tyler looked down at the grass. “I was crying in my room. In the back, by my dresser, so no one could see me. I just sat back there and cried, because I missed my grandpa so much, and I knew he was never coming back. And that’s when it happened.”

  “When you were crying?”

  “Yeah, when I was saying, ‘I’ll never see him again, never, ever.’ That’s when my heart started to get really warm and then it spread to my chest and stomach and then to my arms and legs and all the way to my hair. And the crazy thing was, it was so warm and so nice, but I still had goose bumps like I was cold, but I wasn’t. Not at all. I knew right then that I would see my grandpa again. I knew he was in heaven.”

  “What about God?” I couldn’t help asking. Did Tyler know about Him, too?

  “I felt God in my chest, Chelsea. He was inside me making me warm and happy even though I was the saddest I had ever been in my whole life. He really did.”