Andrea and the 5-Day Challenge (5 page)

Of course, the question I really needed answered was if he had actually asked me to homecoming? It was such an offhanded invitation. Was that the way Luke Ryan asked a girl to an all-important school activity? It didn't matter either way because this girl wasn't going. And as for today, he'd just have to accept that I had other things to do this afternoon.

Hopefully, he wouldn't take it the wrong way, but it was time to face facts. There was no future between Luke and me.

He'd been at Aubrey for like two seconds and already everyone knew his name and his whole resumé of accomplishments. I'd been going to school with most of these kids since kindergarten and
all
they knew about me was my name.

I had to admit, this sparked a recollection of the time Jeff invited me to dinner with his friends. All they talked about the entire night were their characters from some online role-playing game. I hardly said a word the whole time, and Jeff didn't seem to notice. Oh, yeah, that's because our being together had only been an elaborate scheme to make Kasey jealous. I shook my head, removing myself from the memory.

Then I spied them—the spawn of the underworld. Amy, Angie, and Alisha stood side by side on the sidewalk across from me, awaiting their entertainment—otherwise known as my life. It was all their fault I was in this mess. They'd filled my head with all kinds of outrageous ideas. It was the reason I'd verbalized the thought of asking Luke to homecoming, which allowed him to hear it.

Oh, gosh! Was
that the reason he asked me? Because he didn't want to hurt my feelings? Of course, that had to be it. There could be no other reason he would waste his time on me. I felt dizzy and another ride on the local city bus was not going to improve the condition.

The A-Company Girls (or, as I said before, “spawn of the underworld”) watched me. Each one of them held a different expression.

Amy looked determined, like if I didn't go off with Luke she'd forcibly place me in his car. It wasn't like she could at only five feet two inches tall and a hundred pounds.

Angie smiled as if she held a delicious secret. I didn't want to know the visions she had going through her head.

Alisha, on the other hand, was the only one who appeared supportive. Her understanding expression showed that she felt for my plight. Although, how she could ever empathize with my pain, I will never know, as she's never been in my situation. She has her choice of boys and the rest of them worship the ground she walks on. She would never have fallen for Jeff's deception.

Shifting my gaze away from them, I blew out a breath and pressed my shoulders back, hoping to fill myself with real confidence. Might as well get this over with, before I missed the bus. It was my lot in life, as the nineteenth century poet, Emily Dickinson, said, to “
wander as lonely as a cloud”
and most definitely not in a car with Luke Ryan. This delusion must finally dissolve.

I spotted Luke's dark blue vehicle, but no Luke anywhere. Oh, this could be just the gift I needed. I could write him a note, leave it on his windshield and sprint over to my bus. After dropping my backpack onto the blacktop beside Luke's car, I bent down to find a scrap of paper inside.

Cars zoomed out of the parking lot, and cheerleaders chanted off on the football field. That was probably why I never heard Luke arrive.

“Hey, sorry I'm late.”

I jumped while swiveling around which resulted in me ramming my head right into his stomach.

He groaned.

I leaped back, tottering on the backs of my shoes.

Luke grabbed my arms to keep me from falling right on my backside in front of the entire student body.

My hands rested on his firm chest and I looked straight into his eyes.

“Take it easy there, Andrea. You almost took me down for the count.” He let go of my arms, rubbed his stomach and smiled through the pain.

I couldn't have been more mortified. “I'm so sorry, Luke.” I'm not sure if I was apologizing for heading him in the gut or the words that were about to come out of my mouth. “I...I've got to go home. Practice. The recital. Sorry.” I wasn't making any logical sense, or even complete grammatical sentences.

Luke looked confused and maybe disappointed.

I took up my weighted-down bag and rushed out of sight as quickly as my load would allow. That's when the tears caught up with me, but at least I made it to my bus on time.

 

~*~

 

Well, Lord, that wasn't exactly what I was hoping for when I prayed this morning to make it one more day
not
making a fool of myself. Today has to have been the worst day in the history of all days, including the Ten Plagues of Egypt and the Fall of Rome. Why do I keep setting myself up to fail? I would say it was like one of those “pride comes before a fall” kind of things, but I really hope I wasn't being prideful today. In fact, maybe the problem is that I don't have enough faith in myself, or You either, Lord.

Nugget of Truth: Proverbs 2:5-6 You will understand the fear of the Lord and find the knowledge of God.
For the Lord gives wisdom.

 

After spending fifteen minutes under my bedspread, I heard my cell phone buzz. Definitely a text message. No doubt, Amy asking what the heck had happened between Luke and me. I reached my hand out from under the covers and grabbed my phone from the bedside table. In the dimness below the blankets, the backlight of the device allowed me to make out the message. It was Amy.

What happened? CM!

I laid the phone on my stomach and closed my eyes. I didn't want to call Amy and divulge what exactly had happened—what a crazed lunatic I'd been. I didn't want anyone to know, especially Luke, and he'd had a nice view of it—front and center. My phone buzzed again. I had to look.

I know yr hm. Do I have to come over and pull u out from under the covers?

I sat up straight. How did she know about my hiding under the covers? She had to have spies or something. Maybe hidden cameras. I began my reply.

Not under covers. Everything fine. Practicing for recital. TTYL.

I waited, hoping this would be the end of it.

Her reply:
Coming over.

Now I started to panic. I couldn't face Amy. Then she'd know I'd been crying.
No. Don't. Srsly busy.

Heard what happened to Luke Mday.

She heard what happened on Monday? Amy wasn't usually one for idle gossip. Who had she been talking to? Or had she entered into her own investigation? But why?

And?
I typed.

Her reply was almost immediate:
His Dad visiting. Wants him 2 go back 2 CA.

My heart did a hard thump. How could Luke leave when we were just getting to know one another? I realized then how much I'd enjoyed our friendship these last two months. Not that I could ever face him again after today. Another round of embarrassment ignited my nervous stomach as I remembered the many blunders I'd made in front of Luke. I set my thumbs in place and began answering.
How do u know?

Dion Washington

A-ha! She admitted there is something going on between her and Dion. However, this was not the time to delve into that topic.
Is he going to move back?

Amy's response took a long time in coming.

Like, I could have washed my hair and dried it as I waited. I started nibbling on my fingernails and I never do that.

Not sure. Maybe u should ask him.

“Andrea, time for dinner.” My mom's voice sounded from outside my door. “Are you OK? You've been in here all afternoon.”

I cleared my throat before answering, trying to channel my inner happiness. “I'm fine, Mom. I'll be there in a sec.”
Gotta bounce. Dinner.

Ciao

At least I'd had an easy out. Except now, I had to face my mother, and she would know there was something wrong with me. It's like she had this weird, supernatural mothering ability to read my moods. Good thing Dad had a late meeting and wouldn't be home until later. Otherwise, they could easily double team me, and I'd be singing all about homecoming and Luke in the process. Why hadn't they thought to give me a little brother or sister for distraction? Then, maybe all the focus would not be attached to me.

After washing my face and applying some fresh powder, I slunk into the kitchen; although displaying my sunny personality just seemed too hard to muster.

Mom finished putting the final touches on the salad when she noticed my entrance. “Hey, daughter, how was school?”

“Oh, you know, school. Geometry quiz. English Lit test. Same old stuff.” I grabbed a peeled carrot stick and snapped a bite.

“Right, you had a Geometry quiz. How do you think it went?”

“Pretty good, actually. I've been doing some extra studying with…” No, I couldn't admit I'd been studying with Luke. Mom would go crazy. Although, I'm not sure if she'd be smiling or frowning. She was odd that way.

She pivoted in my direction while holding the salad bowl. Her head tilted to the side. “With whom?”

“Oh, no one special.”

“Hmm.” She let the comment pass. “Here.” She handed me the bowl. “Put this on the table and I'll bring over the pasta.”

Moments later, we were eating and for a split second, I forgot about my worries. I mean, Mom is a supreme cook. You'd never believe she finished law school. Yep, she's a gourmet cook with a
Juris Doctorate
degree. She gave up the law when I was born, and she loved being home so much she never went back to work, other than the occasional pro-bono case or friendly legal advice. She always says maybe when I'm off at college she might get back into it full-time, but I doubt it.

Mom finished a bite of salad and then smiled. “Have you practiced for the recital this afternoon?”

“Uh, no, not yet.”

Instead of frowning like I expected, Mom smiled again. “Your Dad has been waiting for this reply for three weeks, and I know he'd like to be here when you found out, but I can't wait.” She rushed from the table and came back fluttering a cream-colored envelope.

I should have known this was something big because my mother never got overly excited. Calm and serene, that was Patricia Lynn Jamison.

“You remember two years ago when we filled out the application for the High School of the Performing Arts?”

“Sure, that school for the
musical theater
wannabes.” I went to take another bite, and then stopped with my fork hanging in midair. “Wait, are you saying this letter is from them?”

“Yes.” She handed me the envelope. “Your Dad recently heard about a possible opening and he's been campaigning for you to get the spot.”

“I got in.” Astonishment wavered in my voice.

“No, not yet, but there is an opening this second quarter which starts in two weeks.”

I scanned the letter. “They're going to be at my recital Saturday. They'll make a decision then.” This explained my parents' recent crazy behavior about my recital.

“Yes. The admissions committee already spoke with Mrs. Leeds, and they are very interested.”

“Great. They spoke with Mrs. Leeds. Great.” But I didn't sound enthused that the best performing arts school in the area and my piano teacher had been talking. I wasn't enthused. I didn't want to go to that school—not now. What about my friends? And Luke?
Wait—Luke?
Where had that come from?

“Andrea, do you know the percentage of graduates from there who get into places like Julliard, or the Boston Conservatory?”

“Mom, I'm not going to Julliard. I'm not that good.”

“But you could be if you put more into it. This school can help you get there.” She smiled and took a sip of her iced tea.

“You know, maybe I've been putting too much time into it already and not enough into other parts of my life. I mean, maybe I should just quit piano altogether. It's not like I'm going to become the next Rachmaninoff or anything.”

Mom nearly choked on her tea. “Andrea, what in the world? You love playing the piano.”

“Yeah, sometimes. I've just been thinking…”

“Hmm, have you now? Andrea, you've been given a talent. A God-given talent. You know your Dad and I only want to help nurture that gift.”

“I know Mom, but…I just think maybe I should give the whole Julliard thing a second thought.”

And then she looked at me with an expression I'd never seen on her before. Her mouth pulled to the side with the smallest hint of a smile. “I know what this is about.” She didn't exactly look excited. Not upset, either. Concerned, I suppose. “This is about a boy.” She stared at me. “It is, isn't it?”

Oh gosh, here it came. The lecture on where I should put my
focus
. Anything, but another lecture. “Mom, please be serious. Me and boys?” I rolled my eyes and picked up my fork again.

“Andrea Renee Jamison. Tell me the truth. Honestly, I never thought it would happen, but…”

“Mom!” I nearly yelled in shock. Did she really doubt my prowess with the members of the opposite sex to such a degree? OK, I'd never gone on a real date, yet (almost, but that didn't count), and I never spoke about boys because—
why
. Until now.

“Homecoming is this week. I almost forgot.” Mom rested back in her chair and combed fingers through her long blonde hair. “Has someone asked you to homecoming?” Her concern had mutated to interest and the last thing you want is your forty-three-year-old mother overly interested in your social life.

“No, Mom, well, maybe. I don't know.” I stared down at the table and framed my face with my hands. This was a nightmare.

Mom grabbed my hand and pulled me out of my chair. “Come on. I have something to show you.”

We rushed out of the dining room, through the living room, and up the stairs to her and Dad's bedroom. She continued on to her walk-in closet, pulling me all the way to the back wall. After dropping my hand, she started moving garments around, the hangers banging against each other.