Finding Hope in Texas (19 page)

“Well, there you are. I was beginning to
wonder if you had after school detention now,” she said
sardonically.

“No, I was just talking to a teacher.” I
grunted, throwing my backpack in the second seat.

“Oh. Well, was your day any better? I mean,
you mentioned some mean girls at your school over the weekend. Did
they bother you today?”

“No, but why are you asking?” There was an
I know something you don’t know
look in her eyes. “What did
you do, Mags?”

“I had a one-sided conversation with your
principal this morning. I told him if that is how the student body
at Jimmy Carter treated a new girl that went through such a
traumatic experience as you, then that school should’ve been shut
down a long time ago.” My mouth dropped open as Mags continued.
“I’ve been keeping up with the news enough to know that bullying is
a hot topic and once you start throwing the word lawsuit around,
people start to act.”

“You...you said that?”

“I sure did, and he said–”

“Who cares what he said! You go up there and
talk to the principal, someone I haven’t even met and spilled your
guts about my problem? You had no right to do that, Mags! And then
threaten him with a lawsuit? You have to be freaking kidding me!” I
sunk in my seat. She might as well just tattooed the word NARC big
across my forehead and taped a KICK ME sign to my back.

“I was just trying to help, honey. You just
seemed so upset about the situation.”

“But I didn’t ask for your help, I didn’t
want you involved at all. Why in the heck did you have to stick
your nose into my business?” I threw my head back into the seat and
looked up at the fading upholstery on the ceiling. “Just take me
home, please.” I sighed.

She said nothing else and again I had the
feeling like I should apologize for being so rude, but I didn’t.
She was wrong for what she did, even if she had the best of
intentions. Everything in my school life may have just gone from
bad to worse, but really, how much more miserable could it have
gotten? I probably needed to borrow Mr. Peet’s musket and bayonet
for protection now, but who was I kidding? Even then my ammo would
be lacking. We were in Texas. These kids were probably packing
AK-47s in their backpacks.

Still, even with her blatant attempt to help
my school life, Mags had at least bought me practically a whole
week of relative peace and quiet. Jody and the gang were nowhere to
be found and for that I was happy, but I did see Brad in the
hallway once or twice giving me the evil eye. I guess he thought I
went against his word and got Jody in trouble after all. What did
he warn me of, that she had squished bigger bugs than me before or
something like that? Well how the heck was I supposed to know that
Mags would blow a gasket and blab to the principal?
Crap!

Finding a good sutler wasn’t very hard. All
of them were guy-friendly, probably because they were the ones
playing soldier and all, but Google gave me more hits than I ever
needed. Even though I knew Lizzy would let me borrow anything, if I
was going to be serious about reenacting, I might as well start
looking. Haversack Supplies had more than haversacks. I found a
plain, but pretty camp dress as well as some rustic-looking leather
shoes. My Reeboks would have to be retired for the weekend. This
wasn’t near as flashy as what I wore for the parade, but it looked
more comfortable. I called the place to make sure they had my
sizes. “Yeah, that’s no problem,” murmured the man on the other end
of the line. “Anything else you need?” I thought for a moment.
Lizzy said something about dances, so how about a dance dress? “You
mean a hoop? You want the whole shebang?”
Sure, what the
heck!
I gave him my info and said to rush deliver it, pleased
with my purchases. It wasn’t ten minutes later that I got a call
from Richard.

“Did you lose your debit card? Someone made
some strange purchases with it.”

“No, that was me,” I said shyly. Was he
really keeping that close an eye on my accounts?

“Well, looks like you got the southern bug.
Have fun at the NASCAR race and all the left turns,” he said
mockingly of Southern culture. At least he didn’t call me Scarlet
O’Hara.

With so much peace in the world, or at least
the school, the week flew by quickly and I found myself slapping
the alarm on a Saturday morning, awaking so that I could meet Lizzy
and Mr. Peet at the antique store. Mags looked at me strangely when
I walked down the hall, fully dressed and ready to go.

“Have a hot date?” she chimed.

“Only with you. Aren’t you going to the
antique store today?”

“Yeah. So where are you going?”

“With you, duh.”

“Even after last week?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, even after last
week. Who knows, the crappy place may grow on me.”

She smiled but then warned me about my
derogatory comments.

The first couple hours were boring sitting
behind the counter. There were no customers and Mags had busied
herself with cleaning another part of the store. It seemed Mr.
Lambert liked what she had done with the back area and wanted her
to continue throughout the place. I figured with me working every
Saturday as she cleaned, she would finish in the next twenty-five
years, tops.

It was just before ten when I got a text from
Lizzy that they were on their way. Oddly enough, they knew of the
place but had never stopped in, mostly because Lizzy knew that Mr.
Peet would take hours explaining everything he saw to her and how
it was used before we got some better piece of technology that made
that one obsolete. They arrived about fifteen minutes after ten,
both bundled up for the blizzard that was not coming.

“Miss Kilpatrick, how are you this fine
morning?”

“Good,” I replied. “I’ll go get my aunt.” I
brought Mags to the front of the store and oddly enough, Mr. Peet
transformed into something other than the sarcastic teacher from
school.

“Margaret, it’s good to see you again,” he
said and shook her hand. “What a wonderful place you have here.
When Miss Kilpatrick said that you ran an antique store I just had
to come see it for myself,” he gleamed.

What was he smoking?
Lizzy and I gave
uncomfortable looks to one another as the two talked junk business.
Finally, the conversation moved to reenacting.

“I guess Miss Kilpatrick told you that she
was invited to go to our first reenactment next weekend down in
Madisonville, didn’t she?”
Didn’t I? Crap again!

“No, no she didn’t.” Their gazes fell on me.
“I’m sorry, where is Madisonville?”

“About three hours south on I-45.” He gave us
more details about what to expect, saying again that I didn’t need
to buy anything, that he would be very protective of me, you know,
all that responsible stuff.

“And you will be camping out in this
weather?”

“The girls will have a big wall tent and I’ll
bring my A-frame. We have a large heater so they won’t be freezing
or anything.”

I’m sure Mags had no clue what he was talking
about, nor did I. She glared at me, not liking that she was being
hit with this all of a sudden.

“And it’s the entire weekend?”

“We will get in late Sunday evening,
yes.”

“Well, if she wants to go, then it’s alright
with me.” Lizzy and I smiled. “You will be with her the entire
weekend, right?” She looked at Lizzy.

“I won’t let her out of my sight, Mrs.
Kilpatrick,” Lizzy answered.

“It’s Miss, but don’t let her get you into
any trouble, either.” Her final glare seemed to seal the deal,
which was good since the UPS man would be at my door early next
week with my dresses. Mr. Peet, always being the teacher, tried to
redirect the conversation to a more pleasant discussion.

“Well then, with that settled, would you mind
showing me around your store, Margaret?” He held out his hand for
her to lead the way. She smiled at him and followed suit, leaving
Lizzy and me up front. At least having someone to speak to about
useless items seemed to calm Mags down.

“I’m so glad you’re getting to go with us,”
Lizzy said excitedly. “I think you’ll enjoy seeing it all for
yourself. I know it all looks weird and stuff, but it is really a
neat hobby.”

“I’m sure I’ll have a great time. Besides, it
will give you a chance to see Hunter again.” I gave her a little
wink and her freckled face began to blush.

“And you can slip into Jason’s arms again,”
she joked. “I can see it now: ‘Oh, Jason, please catch me before I
turn a summersault in this hoop dress.’” She flung herself around
in front of me to continue the mockery.

“It wasn’t like that at all and you know it.”
Or was it?
I mean, I didn’t fall on purpose, at the
restaurant or here at the store. Still, I was glad to have his
guiding hands around me when I did. “Besides,” I continued, “he is
far too secluded for my taste.” The lies kept piling up. It was
probably my taste for him that led me to want to go off reenacting
in the first place. The seclusion I could work on.

“Well, either way, I’m glad you’re
coming.”

We continued our conversation for a while
until Mags and Mr. Peet rounded the last aisle of the shop and made
their way back to the counter.

“I’ll take these,” he said to me as he laid
down a pair of salt and peppershakers. “I like the old ones with
the cork in the bottom,” he explained.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Lizzy ran out to their
car and came back in again in a flash. “Here, this is my copy of
Cold Mountain
. Have you read it or seen the movie?”

“No,” I shook my head.

“It’s a good book and the movie was
phenomenal. The actors really brought the characters to life.
Anyway, I thought you might want to read it rather than your
classics, if you wanted to.”

“Okay,” I didn’t think this book would
replace any of my classics, but I thought I would give it a shot.
Mr. Peet smiled at Lizzy as they said good-bye, Mr. Peet commenting
to Mags on how nice the place was again before they walked out of
the door. We both watched them as they loaded into their car and
drove away.

“Your teacher is a very nice guy,” Mags
finally said.

“Yeah,” rolling my eyes.

Chapter
Eight

The cold artic chill had finally settled in
North Texas and the weekend passed without much of a notice,
besides the landlord stopping by to tell Mags to keep her cold
water dripping during the night so that the pipes wouldn’t freeze
up. The cold air also allowed school to go by without much concern.
Jody and her gaggle were back at the table at lunch. Although I did
receive a few evil glances, other than that, nothing came of it.
Maybe their week in ISS being hounded by the goggled-eyed undergrad
worked after all? I certainly owed Mags an apology.

When I arrived home on Wednesday, a box
waited for me on the front porch of the house and I immediately ran
to my room to open it, like it was a Christmas present that had
arrived late. I gleamed at its contents, holding up each dress to
the mirror. The guy was right when he said the whole shebang. In
the box were not only the dresses, but matching bonnets, stripped
socks that only Pippy Longstocking would wear, the shoes I had
ordered, linen gloves, pantaloons, and even more. It was the whole
shebang. Not bad for $300 bucks, I guess.

Throughout the week I also got time to read a
little of the book that Lizzy lent me. Man, the Civil War was
depressing. The South really did a number on itself by starting
this thing trying to protect slavery. Why couldn’t they just have
negotiated with the North and freed the slaves over a period of
time? That would’ve been the smart thing to do. They lost slavery
in the end, anyway, but that would’ve been better than losing
two-hundred-thousand young men in trying to protect it. But what
did I know? Without their sacrifice, southerners wouldn’t have
anything to complain about or even have a cool hobby where they
could recreate all the stupidity over the weekend while they cooked
burgers on the grill.

That is what we will be eating, right?

After school on Friday, Mr. Peet and Lizzy
arrived in their SUV, but this time they pulled a small trailer
behind them. Jeez, did they really have so much gear they needed a
trailer? They got out and came into the house, still in
civilian
clothing.

“You sure you don’t want to go, Margaret? It
does beat sitting round the house all weekend,” asked Mr. Peet

“No, no, I really hate the cold and I
wouldn’t be much fun shivering in a canvas tent. But y’all have fun
without me. And you, Hope, you be on your best behavior. Don’t go
around socking anyone in face.”

This time I gave
her
a glare. Why did
she have to say these things in front of company?

“Between us, Margaret, the girl deserved it.”
Mr. Peet gave a wink before corralling us towards the door. “Now
stay warm and I’ll return her in one piece.”

Mags walked us to the door and waved as we
pulled away from the curb. “Mr. Peet, what are you listening
to?”

“The Civil War
.”

I looked over at Lizzy who sat in the
backseat with me.

“It’s the soundtrack of
The Civil
War
,” she explained
.
“It was a famous series made back
in the 90s. Half the reenactors out here are because of it.” I
nodded my head as if I understood. “Dad listens to it to get him in
the Civil War mood.”

“Ahh, okay.” I guessed that a Civil War mood
was relatively depressing. There were some pretty songs, but most
of the instrumentals cut right to the point: a lot of people were
dead. “Mr. Peet, how many people died in this war?”

“Mmm, a good number is around
six-hundred-and-twenty-thousand. Some say more, some say less. But
about two-thirds of them died from disease. Why do you ask?”