Saving Maddie (9 page)

I called the meeting to order and after briefly discussing the upcoming retreat, I moved on to the Youth Revival. We still had a lot of planning to do for it, although it seemed like except for Donna and Dora, the group was more interested in picking our social events than reviewing the worship service program. Rachel, usually quick to offer suggestions, spent most of the meeting jotting things down in a notebook. Every time she looked up and caught me staring at her, I looked away.

Finally, after doling out a few responsibilities, I adjourned the meeting. Immediately, Rachel marched to the front of the library. Four other girls, all friends of hers, followed.

Dora remained in the front of the room with me, while Donna talked with Mrs. Anderson. She nodded at whatever Donna said before pushing herself out of her seat and walking out of the room.

Apparently, Mrs. Anderson didn’t need to stick around to squash this latest uprising. That was what she had the twins for.

Or maybe, that was what she had me for.

Rachel planted her bony hands on her bony hips. “Will
someone please explain to me—to us—why we can’t have a praise-dance ministry?” Her words were loud and charged, and aimed at Dora. “Just because some people can’t dance doesn’t mean everyone should be punished.”

Dora brought her hand to her collar and took a step backward. “If you’re looking for something to do, why don’t you join the choir like everyone else?”

“Not all of us can sing,” Rachel said. “And no offense, but some of us don’t want to sing the same old has-been spirituals week after week.”

Dora sucked in her breath. “I can’t believe you just—”

“And if the boys can have a basketball team, the girls should be able to have a praise-dance team,” Cassandra chimed in. “Rachel told us all about her praise-dance team at her old church.” The girls nodded in agreement.

“Church is a place of worship, not a dance club,” Donna said, joining us in the front of the room. While the Wesley twins were identical, Donna was clearly the alpha female of the pair. “I can’t speak for everyone, but I know
some
of us are too dignified to participate in such ungodly activities.”

“Ungodly?”
Rachel moved toward the twins. “Who are y’all to say what is and isn’t godly?”

Donna puffed out her chest. “Everyone knows that dancing—especially hip-hop dancing—has nothing to do with God, and everything to do with sex.” She reached for her Bible. “It clearly states—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” I said, stepping in between Rachel and Donna. “Let’s all calm down for a second.”

As Rachel took a few deep breaths, I thought about how her words reminded me of Madeline’s. Same fire, same passion. Rachel knew she was right, despite what I or the twins or anyone else said. Just like Madeline.

I looked at the mob of girls behind Rachel. It seemed like all of them had recently taken to wearing makeup. “I assume all of y’all want to start a praise-dance team.”

Four heads nodded. Five, including Rachel’s.

I crossed my arms. “And how many of y’all know how to dance—and I’m not talking about the type of dancing they do in music videos.”

Elizabeth, who was more round than tall, stepped forward. “What’s wrong with hip-hop dancing?” she asked. “On TV, praise-dance teams do hip-hop all the time.”

Donna snorted. “You don’t honestly believe Pastor Wynn is going to allow hip-hop dancing in his church, do you? Please tell me you’re not that naive.”

I expected Rachel to lash out at Donna, but instead she turned her gaze on me. “We could learn how to do other types of dance, Joshua.” Her voice was so low I could barely hear her. “We’d just have to practice a lot.”

A lump formed in my throat as I struggled to say the words I knew she didn’t want to hear. “Even if you guys danced something as traditional as ballet, it’d be tough to convince the church to start a praise-dance team when only five girls are interested.”

“If you really pushed for a group, we’d have more interest.” She placed her hand on my arm, right where
Madeline had earlier applied her death grip. “If you really supported it, the youth group would follow you. We always do.”

Rachel’s words tugged at my conscience. She wasn’t arguing her case, nor was she demanding anything. Not anymore. She was merely asking me to do what I knew was right. She was merely asking me to help her.

I pulled away. “I’m sorry, but the church isn’t ready for a dance ministry. We’re way too conservative for something so radical.”

Her eyes pleaded with me. “If you keep thinking like that, we’re always going to be an old, boring church.”

“Give it a little more time, okay?” I turned to the other girls in the group. While their expressions were as sad as Rachel’s, they were a lot easier to focus on. “I promise, I’ll keep talking to my dad about it. Maybe next year.”

Donna tucked her Bible under her arm. “I’m glad this is settled. Now we can get on to more important things.” She smirked at the girls. “And in case any of you are interested, choir practice starts at seven o’clock sharp on Tuesday nights.”

The girls glared back at the twins. It was safe to assume that their thoughts were anything but godly at that point.

As the girls filed out of the room, I sat down at the table and scribbled a few notes on the back of a program. As usual, Dora had been too busy arguing to take minutes.

I finished jotting down my notes and looked back up. I wasn’t surprised to see Rachel sitting in one of the chairs, her arms crossed, her gaze stone-cold.

“This isn’t fair,” she said. “You know it isn’t fair.”

I rose from my seat and stuffed the notes into my jacket pocket. “What do you want me to say, Rachel? My dad doesn’t think we’re ready.”

“That’s a bunch of crap and you know it!”

“Don’t yell,” I said. “I’m doing the best I can.”

Rachel walked over to me. “Be honest,” she said, her voice slightly softer. “Do you think we should form a praise-dance ministry or not?”

Yeah, Judas, what do you think?

I leaned against the table. “You know what I think? I think, for once, it would be great if you and the twins and Mrs. Anderson and even my father could agree on something. I think it would be great not to be always caught in the middle.” I shook my head. I’d take the giggling Rachel over this one any day.

“I want to give you your praise-dance ministry. But I’m not a miracle worker. Things like this don’t happen in a day.” I loosened my tie, and finally felt like I could breathe. “I’m on your side, Rachel, but you’ve got to be more patient. Right now, Dad
hates
the idea of forming a praise-dance ministry.”

Rachel’s gaze lost some of its hard edge. “Do you think he’ll ever change his mind?”

I thought for a second. “I honestly don’t know,” I replied. “But I’ll keep trying.” I spit on my palms, rubbed
them together, then crossed my heart. “I promise. I’ll keep trying.”

Rachel’s face broke into a smile. “Joshua, what did you just do?”

I looked down at my hands. “Sorry. It’s an old thing I used to do with a friend when I was making a promise.”

Rachel sighed. “I’ll … try to be more patient,” she said. “But keeping quiet isn’t something I’m good at.”

“Just give me a little more time, okay? I’m going to work on Dad more. It’s just … complicated.”

The youth group, my parents, Madeline—it seemed like everything was complicated.

“So what happened to you during service?” she asked. “I saw you sneak out, but you never came back in.”

“Something came up. I needed to talk to someone.” I started to walk out of the room, but Rachel jumped in front of me.

“What’s her name?” she asked.

“What … what makes you think it’s a she?”

“First of all, you’re starting to get jumpy.” She nodded toward my collar. “Plus you have makeup on your coat. Looks like foundation.”

I glanced at my lapel. Sure enough, blotches of brown decorated my collar.

“Her name is Madeline.”

“The girl Tony was going gaga over the other day?” Rachel kept her gaze on the makeup stain. “So what—is she your girlfriend or something?”

“She isn’t my type.”

Rachel looked up at me with big, doelike eyes swimming in sky blue eye shadow. “And what is your type?” she asked, before biting her thumb.

“I wish I knew.” I rustled the top of her hair, which I knew she had always hated. “When I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”

chapter 7

A
few days later, on my way to the nursing home, I stopped by the coffee shop.

Correction: I had actually stopped by the coffee shop every day for the past four days, but each time I popped in, Madeline wasn’t working. I should have just called her, but as I’ve said before, I’m not that brave.

Today, she stood behind the counter, mixing up some frothy-looking drink in one of the stainless steel machines. She smiled in my direction, but didn’t say anything until she finished serving the customer in front of me.

“Hey, Joshua.” She sniffed the air. “You smell like soap. You took a shower just to see me?”

Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know.

I shrugged. “I played a game of hoops with Tony. I won. I showered.”

“And for a second, I thought I was special.” She winked. “So what can I get you?”

I looked at the menu, even though I knew exactly what I wanted. “Do you have any of that coffee you made last week? The light stuff?”

“Sorry, that was just a special for that day.” She looked around quickly, then leaned over the counter. “But wait about ten minutes. I’ll brew you a cup after Yvonne’s left.”

With the way Madeline leaned over, I was glad she wasn’t wearing one of those low-cut tank tops. “I don’t want to get you into any trouble….”

“It’s no trouble.” She patted my hand; her fingers sported a thick, shiny new coat of nail polish. “I’m glad you came by. I was starting to miss you.”

I smiled, but quickly forced myself to stop thinking about her like that, forced myself to stop reading into her words. No matter how much she smiled at me, she was just a friend.
We
were just friends. She couldn’t have been clearer if she had carved it into a stone tablet.

We chatted for a few minutes, but then the coffee shop got busy. I moved to a nearby table and picked up a discarded copy of the newspaper, but I found myself staring at Madeline more than the paper. She greeted every customer with a smile. She danced behind the counter like it was a stage, and she was the center of attention.

As much as I watched Madeline, I also watched the customers, especially the male ones. It was impossible not to notice how their gazes floated a little to the south as they placed their orders. How the men in navy blue power suits and dark red ties seemed to always find a way to make contact with Madeline’s hand as they handed her their money. How all the college-aged guys, in their wrinkled T-shirts, black horn-rimmed glasses, and leather sandals, would rave about being in some local band I had never heard of, and would invite Madeline to drop by to check out one of their sets.

Madeline just smiled through every transaction. Her tip jar looked like it wanted to explode.

Once the rush died down, Madeline waved me over to the counter, and like a puppy, I happily trotted back to her.

“Here’s your coffee,” she said. “I even added sugar and cream, just like you like it.”

I took a sip of my drink. I could really get used to this stuff. “So when do you get off?”

“In about five minutes.” She dumped a few plates into the sink. “Aunt Gwen is coming to pick me up after she gets off from work.”

I readjusted my grip on my cup. “Why don’t you let me take you home?”

Madeline paused, her back to me. I could see the outline of her bra strap against her shirt. “You sure you don’t mind?” she asked.

Of course I didn’t mind. I’d kill to have Madeline all to myself, even if we were separated by thousands of years of
experience. “I’d be happy to take you home, as long as you’re okay with me making a quick stop first.”

“Not a problem. I just need to be home in enough time to change and scarf down dinner before Frank picks me up.”

Frank.
Her nonfriend who she did nonfriend things with.

“Another night on the town?” My words were more bitter than the coffee.

“I wish. I’m going to hang out with Frank and his crew at the bowling alley. I hate it—all the smoke and all the noise—but it’s what Frank loves to do. He plays in a league twice a week.”

I placed my cup on the counter. “Can’t you suggest something better to do? Something you both like?”

“Like I said before, we don’t have that much in common.”

I crossed my arms and pinched my sides hard enough to leave a bruise.

Madeline disappeared into the back and emerged a few minutes later with her book bag slung over her shoulder. “So where do you have to stop before you drop me off at home? Just don’t tell me it’s church, because—”

“It’s not Mount Calvary.” I grinned at her; it was finally my turn to be a little mysterious. “Don’t worry, you’ll like it. Trust me.”

Madeline arched an eyebrow. “Joshua, what exactly do you have in mind?”

I smiled even more. “How do you feel about old people?”

*    *    *

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Madeline said as we pulled up to the nursing home.

“What’s wrong with going to a nursing home? I really like hanging out here.” I grabbed a plastic bag filled with old magazines from the backseat, and caught a whiff of Madeline’s vanilla-and-coffee-bean scent.

She laughed. “No one your age should ever say something like that.”

“We don’t have to stay long,” I said as we entered the building. “I just need to check in on some of the guys, to make sure they’re okay. I’ll have you home in plenty of time to get ready for your big night at the bowling alley.”

“Not funny.”

After signing in at the front desk, we headed to the rec room. As usual, Leonard and Mr. Rollins were engaged in a chess game. I didn’t have to ask who was winning; I could tell by the grimace on Mr. Rollins’s face.

“Whatcha got in the bag, Joshua?” Leonard asked as we approached their table.