Don't Kiss Him Good-Bye (13 page)

That night at home, I had to sort through all the potential Asking for Trouble questions. Because they were mostly written by teenage girls, and because I was a teenage girl, I related to most of them. Pretty much every week, though, after praying about it, I figured out which one I was supposed to answer. Then I went to the Source for the answer and wrote it up in my own style. Even though I couldn’t actually tell my readers that my answers were from Scripture, I knew I was feeding them good things.

“Fear of the Lord is the foundation of true wisdom. All who obey his commandments will grow in wisdom,”
I thought. “Psalm 111:10,” I said aloud, thankful for the Bible memory program I’d attended as a kid.

I sorted through the questions, and one struck my heart. Not only because I knew it was important to a lot of girls, but also because it was important to me right that very day. If I wrote this advice out and then didn’t follow it myself, I would be a hypocrite. Besides, it was the right thing to do. I prayed about it, searched through my online Bible program, and composed the answer. Then I e-mailed it to Jack and gave myself till Friday to follow my own advice.

By Thursday, when I delivered the papers, I still hadn’t done it. I didn’t have time to read the column before maths, so after Gwennie and Jill and I had finished growing bacteria cultures in science, I sat down and read it.

Dear Asking for Trouble,

I have a problem I hope you can help me with. I’m worried that my best friend has been talking about me behind my back. I never would have guessed it—she’s so honest! And trustworthy! Or so I thought. But I heard something through another friend that I think could have only come from one source: my best friend. What should I do? If I accuse her and I’m wrong, she’s going to be mad—and rightly so. But if she’s telling tales and spreading my secrets, I should know before I tell her anything else. Right? Help!

Sincerely,

Loose Lips Sink Friendships

Dear Loose Lips,

When you decide that someone is your best friend, you’ve decided to entrust a lot of your heart, your mind, and your hopes to them. Not to mention your I’ll-die-if-anyone-else-knows secrets. So if you have any doubts at all about your friend’s trustworthiness, you need to have a chat with her. Now don’t go accusing her of anything. (See your letter above!) Just take her aside privately, one-on-one, and tell her what you heard. Ask if you might have misunderstood something, and be humble—see what she says. Nine times out of ten it’s a simple misunderstanding, and you’ll be closer than ever. Of course, if it’s the other one time out of ten, then you have to be brave enough to kindly say
au revoir
,
adios
,
sayonara
, or however you like to politely say good-bye.

Sincerely,

We’re All in the Same Boat

At lunch I asked Penny if we could walk in the courtyard and talk.

Once we were out there, she asked, “What’s up?”

“Well, I know this is the dumbest thing ever, and I’m an insecure bowl of jelly, but I was just wondering about something. You know when your mom was ready to ask about my mom and some gardening thing, the other night at dinner?”

Penny nodded.

“Well, I was just wondering. Are we not, you know, high class enough for you?”

Penny looked at me as if I’d just swallowed a live bug and asked for another with a splash of soy sauce. “Pardon?”

“I was just wondering why you stopped her, was all.” I hung my head.

Penny grabbed my arm and sat me down on one of the benches. “Even though some others might feel differently, I don’t think, in any way, that I am any better than you—or that my family is either. The party my mum was going to bring up is for the day after the May Day Ball. Traditionally, all my friends and their mums go over to one of the gardens—Ashley’s house was last year—and the girls serve tea and cakes to the mums while they look at the newest blooms and plan garden meetings for the year. Members are allowed to nominate new people for membership, and voting happens in May.”

“Oh,” I said, still not getting why my mom couldn’t be invited.

“Everyone wears their May Day Ball gown from the night before,” Penny said. “It’s a way for the mums to ooh and aah over everyone’s dress. If you still want to come, you could wear something nice . . .”

Now I got it. “No, it’d feel kind of awkward,” I said.

“I thought so,” Penny said. She squeezed my arm as we got up. “You’re a fantastic friend, Savvy. I’m so glad you moved here. I’d never leave you out if I thought it would hurt you.”

And with that, we headed back to lunch. Silently, I prayed that whoever had written to the Asking for Trouble column had had as good of an outcome with her friend.

As I was leaving the lunchroom, Rhys was coming in. “Just who I wanted to see,” he said. “Did you have your April Fools thing yet?”

“Next week,” I said. “On the day before April Fools’.”

“Text me when and where.” He took my hand like he owned it and then wrote his name on it in ink. “To remind you.” Right before I pulled my hand away, a crush of new people headed into the lunchroom. I’d recognize Chloe’s laugh anywhere. Tommy’s, too. Tommy and I locked eyes, only for a minute. Rhys looked at him too before making a show of closing his hand around my own.

Chapter 26

Even though I’d spent the last week being a nervous Nellie, on the actual day itself, March 31, I wasn’t as worried as I’d thought I would be. Surprisingly, Mom had let me stay home from school to practice—and to pray—and I felt more at peace than I had for a while. Mom was going to a book club meeting with our next-door neighbor Vivienne, so she was going to have to drop me off at church a little early. I’d called Jenny, and she’d promised it would be okay. I could hang out in the youth room and practice and do homework till everyone else arrived.

Outfit? Skinny jeans; blue tank top with countryish blue, green, and black checked overshirt; new UGGs; silver hoop earrings—not too big an O.

About an hour before we were going to leave, I heard a knock on the door. I opened it with one hand and held my guitar in the other. “Hello,” I said politely.

Vivienne eyed my guitar. From her look, I suspected she’d been listening to me practice all day. She wasn’t a fan, but I couldn’t help it. I’d tried to keep it low. “This is for your mum,” she said, handing over a canvas tote bag with that evening’s books. “Tell her we’ll have to leave promptly.”

With another withering look at the guitar, she waved toodle-loo and headed back toward her house. I have to admit, my confidence wavered, but only for a moment.

“Ready to go, Sav?” Mom asked. “And are you sure Dad can’t come by tonight to listen? I could even skip the book club if you want me to. And Louanne could come.”

I shook my head. “Nope. Only youth group people allowed. Otherwise we wouldn’t be willing to be fools,” I said. And it was true. I really didn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of my parents and Louanne. It should have been just the opposite—they loved me the most and would judge me the least if I failed. But their opinion also mattered the most, and I wanted to be just right in their eyes.

The ride there was silent. Maybe I was more nervous than I’d thought.

“Rhys said he might come,” I finally said.

“Oh,” Mom replied.

“Aren’t you excited that he could come and hear the gospel?”

“I’m happy anytime someone hears the gospel,” she nonanswered.

“How can you not like him? You don’t even know him!”

“Mother’s intuition, Savvy,” she said. “And the effect he has on you.”

“What effect? You’re imagining things.” As soon as I said the words, I realized how uncharacteristic they were of me. And harsh. “Sorry,” I said. But I didn’t look at her.

She pulled in front of the church and took my hand in hers. “Lord, I pray that You’ll be with Savvy tonight. Steady her hands and her voice, and help her to remember every note she’s so faithfully practiced. Bless her as she seeks to bless others in Your name. Amen.”

“Thank you, Mom.” I got out of the car and opened the back door, taking my guitar and my WA
Times
notebook. I’d brought some homework and next week’s AFT questions to work on while I waited for the others to arrive for practice.

I lugged it all into the back of the youth room, set down my guitar, and spread out my notebook and papers on a small desk near the back. I would work on the Asking for Trouble questions first—looking up the answers at church seemed like a good idea. Then homework. I started reading through the questions and then noticed that the donation boxes were already set up nearby.

That first night, before Joe had asked me if I’d like to participate, I’d promised Supriya that I’d donate my funds to her, and I meant to keep that promise. But so it wouldn’t look funny, maybe I’d just put them in now, before anyone else came. I stood up and took my three bills—two ten-pound notes and a five-pound note—and slipped them into her box.

Please help Be@titude some way too, Lord
, I prayed. I actually did want to win, but I didn’t want to say that, even in my prayer. When I turned around, people were filtering into the room. I headed back to the desk, scooped up the papers, and set them with my open notebook in an untidy heap on the floor underneath my box.

I grabbed my guitar and looked at the clock. It was almost time.