Authors: Marsha Hubler
I
t was a bitterly cold Saturday in March, exactly a month to the day that Wanda had caused so much trouble at the horse show. Now Skye was coming to grips with the fact that for the next year she would have a new foster sister.
“When are Mom and Morgan getting here with Wanda?” Skye stirred a huge bowl of macaroni salad in the kitchenette next to the game room in the basement.
Mr. Chambers, standing beside Skye, had a large pot of beef barbecue bubbling on the stove. He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Well, let’s see. They left at eight this morning to pick up Wanda at her grandmother’s. An hour down, an hour to pack the car and say goodbye, and another hour back. They should be here any minute.” He adjusted his towering chef’s hat, which he always wore just for fun, and stirred the steaming hot food. “I hope the youth group gets here before they do.”
“Me too,” Skye said. “I think your idea to have Wanda meet the Youth for Truth kids from church is a great idea. Although it’s going to be tough sharing Keystone Stables, you and Mom, and the pool table, and practically everything else but my toothbrush with this kid, I know that’s
what God would want. All Wanda’s known for years is gang life and running the streets. I bet she doesn’t have one single friend in the whole wide world. Gangbangers will turn on you in a sneeze to save their own hide. I have a feeling she’s already found that out. I sure found out the hard way. Been there. Done that.”
“New friends would certainly help her think in a different way. And Christians are the best kind of friends. They’re usually there for you when you’re hurting,” Mr. Chambers said.
Skye grabbed a pack of paper plates and started to stack them on the serving counter.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
The outside door to the basement rattled, accompanied by a barrage of squeals and laughter.
“Hey, Tom, are you in there?” a familiar voice yelled from outside.
“Oh, good. The kids are here,” Mr. Chambers said then yelled, “C’mon in, George!”
Mr. Chambers swept off his chef’s hat and hurried to let in the crowd. Before he got there, the door flew open and a herd of about a dozen giggling, laughing, and talking-too-loud teens invaded the game room. After they greeted Mr. Chambers and Skye, they targeted the ping-pong table, three computers loaded with video games, and the pool table. In seconds, the place buzzed with explosive teen energy.
Skye slowed her kitchen duty to a snail’s pace while she examined every face that rushed inside.
Where is he?
she wondered.
Her glance shifted to the doorway where the last teen, Chad Dressler, hurried in carrying his guitar. His curly blonde eyelashes and chipmunk smile immediately lit up the whole universe as far as Skye was concerned, and her heart started to pound like a bass drum. When Chad saw Skye, he made a beeline to the serving counter.
“Hey, Skye, what’s up?” He whipped his guitar in place and strummed like he was introducing the next act in a vaudeville show. “Ta-dah!” he said. “So tell me about this new kid from Harrisburg. Her name’s Wanda?”
As usual, Skye felt her face flush hot, but it wasn’t from working in a busy kitchen. She stared into Chad’s eyes and, suddenly, her knees felt like marshmallows. She glanced away and went back to setting out piles and piles of paper plates.
“Yeah, her name’s Wanda Stallord,” Skye said, “and she’s one piece of work. She’s in a gang. When we met with her and her grandmother two weeks ago to sign some papers, Wanda made it perfectly clear that she only agreed to come here because of that.” Skye pointed to the pool table encircled by half a dozen teens. “But I know her kind. I think she’s running scared—maybe from the rival gang—maybe from some of her own gang. You always have to be watching your back with that kind of life.”
“Hmm.” Chad rubbed his chin and gave Skye another heart-melting smile. “Seems to me that it wasn’t that long ago that someone else in this house was as mean and cantankerous as Wanda. Do you remember who that was?”
Again, Skye felt her face heat up. She spun around, opened the refrigerator, and pulled out a twenty-four pack of soda.
“Here, let me help you with that.” Chad put down his guitar and reached across the counter. He retrieved the box from Skye and started to rip the cardboard open. “So, Skye,” he said with a chuckle, “do you remember that nasty kid who came here a while back? Huh?”
Skye looked into his eyes and decided right then and there, at that very moment, she would tell Chad anything, everything, he ever wanted to know about her rotten past. The trouble was that he already knew it. “Oh, all right, Chad Dressler, you know it was me. I thought you wanted to know about our new girl in boys’ clothing?”
“Sure. Tell me more.”
“Wanda told us that she wants to be a professional pool player when she’s older. She also made it clear that she hates animals, especially horses, which kinda thrills me to all get out. I don’t have to worry about her messing with Champ.”
Mr. Chambers walked behind the counter, recovered his chef’s hat, and started stirring his pot again. “How are you doing, Chad, and how’s your job at Jacob’s Hardware?”
“Great, Mr. C.,” Chad said, pulling the soda cans out of the box and lining them up on the corner of the counter. “Most of the money from the twenty hours I work each week goes right into my college fund.” His glance shifted from Mr. Chambers back to Skye. “So, what else do you know about this Wanda person?”
“She also made it clear that she doesn’t believe in God,” Skye said, stacking a pile of plastic forks near the plates. “In fact, she said she’s not sure he even exists because she never saw him do anything for her in her life. That’s really sad. She’s in bad shape.”
“Well, we’ve seen the Lord do miracles in other kids’ lives here at Keystone Stables.” Mr. Chambers winked at Skye. “With lots of prayer and tough love, I think God can change Wanda.”
“I believe it can happen,” Chad added, staring at Skye. “Why, look at this beautiful young lady here. You have a prime example of how God can change someone.”
Fiery hot, Skye grabbed a bag of potato chips, popped it open, and dumped half the chips in a big plastic serving dish and the other half all over the counter. “Oops,” she said as she scooped the strays back in the dish. Chad grabbed a few for himself and just laughed.
The basement door opened again, and this time Wanda Stallord came barging in like some dark princess claiming the rights to a newly conquered kingdom.
Wearing exactly the same clothes that she had on a month ago, she carried a black backpack slung over her shoulder and a small, thin black leather case in her right hand. Trailing behind her, Mrs. Chambers carried a small black overnight bag. Morgan wheeled in through the doorway with a brown paper bag on her lap.
“Wow!” Chad whispered. “She sure travels light.”
Skye leaned forward on the counter top. “You don’t need much more than a jackknife when you run with a gang,” she whispered.
“And I know what’s in that little case,” Chad said as he leaned toward Skye. “Probably a two-hundred-dollar pool stick that she lifted.”
“All right, you two,” Mr. Chambers said. “Let’s give her a chance.”
Looking at Mr. Chambers, Skye giggled. “If she’s half the trouble I was, you and Mom will probably retire from the kid salvaging business and raise guinea pigs.”
Mr. Chambers let out a roll of laughter that made Skye giggle some more. “Now that’s a good one. Guinea pigs indeed.”
Skye glanced at Mrs. Chambers, who unzipped her coat, took a deep breath, and got everyone’s attention. “Hey, kids, this is Wanda Stallord, our new foster daughter.”
“Hi, Wanda!” the kids said.
“What’s up?” Chad yelled.
“Welcome.” George walked toward Wanda and extended his hand. “I’m George Salem, the kids’ youth leader at church. We’ll introduce everyone after we eat, right Tom?” George looked Mr. Chambers’ way.
“Good idea, because the food’s all ready,” Mr. Chambers said. “All we need to do is pray and we can eat. We’ve got barbecue, chips, macaroni salad, and soda.”
Mrs. Chambers reached for a plastic container on the counter. “And here are handi-wipes,” she said. “You
know I’m a cleany, but it’s flu season, and I don’t want anyone getting sick.”
While the teens started forming a food line, Skye kept her eye on Wanda, who headed straight for the pool table.
Wanda shed her backpack, retrieved the pool stick from the case, and screwed the two parts together. She pulled a five-dollar bill from her pants pocket and flipped it on the table. “Double or nothing,” she said. “Who’s the best pool player here? I’ll take him on in a game of Nine Ball, ball in hand on a foul.”
“Chad’s the best pool player,” Marty, one of the teen boys, said.
“Yeah, Chad is,” all the rest agreed.
“So where’s Chad?” Wanda said.
“Right here.” Chad sauntered to the table. “But let’s eat first, okay?”
“Whoa!” Wanda said, giving Chad the once-over from head to toe. She poked back her cap, forcing the visor off her forehead. Her chopped-off bangs stuck out like burnt straw. “Well, well, well, what do we have here? A pretty boy. Get your stick, dreamboy.”
“After we eat.” Chad’s flushing red cheeks were a telltale sign of his total embarrassment.
As Skye eyed the scene, she felt her own face turn red hot, but from anger.
Mr. Chambers stepped into the center of the room. “Let’s pray and eat, and then we’ll have the pool match.”
Skye stared at Wanda with a new kind of interest.
She’s not here even five minutes, and she’s making trouble already. She better keep her paws off of him and just stick to shooting pool,
Skye fumed.
S
kye dropped her pencil on the dining room table, covered her face with her hands, and moaned. “I’ve only got two days left to finish this report for history class.”
At home a few evenings after Wanda arrived, Skye sat doing her homework at the dining room table with Morgan and Wanda. Near the sliding glass door lay two West Highland terriers, the Keystone Stables mascots.
In the adjoining kitchen, Mrs. Chambers had busied herself with one of her favorite pastimes—cooking. The whole house smelled like an Italian restaurant.
Morgan worked on a page of algebra problems while Wanda was entertaining herself drawing a picture of a pool table on a scrap of paper. Every now and then, she threw a glance of disdain in Skye’s direction and then at the dogs, Tippy and Tyler, who showed no interest in Wanda whatsoever.
While Skye did her homework, she studied her new foster sister out of the corner of her eye. Wanda’s attitude and whole outlook on life made Skye reflect on her own past, remembering the time when she hated church—and God too.
Then there was the disaster last Sunday when Wanda made her grand entrance at church. Although most of the kids tried to make her feel welcome in the Youth for Truth Sunday school class, she slumped into a folding chair with her Blades jacket on and her feet propped up on a chair, sulking the whole time.
Skye knew that since Wanda had arrived, she was
the
hot topic with the youth group. Her skill with the pool stick at Keystone Stables had backed everyone into a corner, including Chad. Of course, the discussion about her acting so much like a boy took precedence with Hannah Gilbert and her new friend Beth Feaster, but only when Wanda’s back was turned.
I know how they can be with their mouths,
Skye remembered.
I hope they stay clear of Wanda, or they might be limping around with two black eyes.
“Mr. Welch said we’re having a big unit test tomorrow.” Morgan focused completely on her book. “This one will cover slopes and x/y intercepts and all that graphing stuff.”
“I’m sure you’ll ace it as usual.” Skye said, then glanced at Wanda who had just slumped in her chair, folded her arms, and hung on her super scowl. Although Wanda had
finally
changed into a dark green sweatshirt and faded jeans, she still wore her ball cap cocked to one side and to the best of her ability portrayed “tough.”
“Girls,” Mrs. Chambers said from the kitchen, “You have about ten more minutes at the table. Then we’ll need to set it for supper.”
“Okay, Mom,” Skye said.
Skye glanced at Morgan, then at Wanda. “Wanda, don’t you have any homework?”
“I never have homework,” she sassed.
Mrs. Chambers came to the table and sat next to Wanda. “Since you’re not going to Madison Middle until next August, how about explaining your new school program to the girls.”
“I’m going to do something weird called homeschooling. I’d rather do that than be stuck in the dumb class at school. But I’d rather shovel a ton of horse manure than do any books at all!” Wanda said.
“Wanda, I think you’ll enjoy homeschooling and you’ll learn a lot.” Mrs. Chambers gave Wanda a warm smile.
Skye also smiled, hoping in vain to get the slightest hint of one in return. “C’mon, Wanda, tell us what you’re doing. All I know is that you’re homeschooling, and I don’t know much about that.”
“Me neither,” Morgan said. “A few kids in our youth group homeschool, and they seem to be on the ball. But I’m not sure how that works. Tell us about it.”
“What you don’t know won’t hurt you,” Wanda snapped, and went back to her doodling.
“Aw, c’mon, Wanda,” Mrs. Chambers said. “I’ll help you explain it.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” Pointing her skinny thumb at Mrs. Chambers, Wanda refused to look up. “I just suffer through my books with her during the day at the treatment center while she tries to crack some other nutcases.”
“Wanda, they’re not nutcases,” Mrs. Chambers said, her eyes glancing around the table, “and neither are you. And there’s a little more to homeschooling than that. We review her lessons every day and do homework and tests. Occasionally, she has a little bit of homework, like tonight. She has one English paper to do. She’ll actually get a report card at the end of the year and take an achievement test to check her progress.”
Skye twiddled her pencil in her fingers and looked at Wanda with great interest. “Well, do you think homeschooling will work for you?”
“Nothing will work for me because I’m stupid!” Wanda practically yelled and her cheeks turned fiery red.
Skye’s nerves jumped and Morgan recoiled like Wanda had slapped her in the face.
“Wanda, you are
not
stupid.” Mrs. Chambers touched Wanda’s shoulder, but Wanda shrugged her off and kept staring at the table.
Mrs. Chambers continued. “Because you haven’t gone to school much this year, you would have been lost in the eighth grade at Madison. I believe with a few months of review with me, you’ll be ready to go there in the fall.”
“Yeah, probably as a third grader,” Wanda grumbled.
Skye forced a chuckle to try to lighten the mood. “So, you don’t have homework to do now?”
“Oh, she has a little to do every night,” Mrs. Chambers said. “But most of it is done during the day.”
Wanda adjusted her cap visor dead center over her eyes. “I have a lot of choices sitting at Maranatha all day long. I can either do schoolwork or count the cracks in the walls of her office.”
Everyone laughed but Wanda.
“She also has individual counseling and group therapy,” Mrs. Chambers said. “You girls remember those days, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes,” Morgan said with a chuckle.
“Back then I wanted to forget them,” Skye said, “but now I can see how much they helped me.”
Wanda completely detached herself from the conversation. “Can I shoot some pool?” she asked Mrs. Chambers.
“Yes,” Mrs. Chambers answered.
Just as Wanda launched out of her chair and headed away from the table, Mrs. Chambers stuck out her hand and, in one slick motion, caught Wanda by the sleeve. “Not so fast, young lady. You have a few things to do first.”
Skye’s glance met Morgan’s as they both waited to see what would happen next.
Wanda finally met her match,
Skye mused.
When Mom says “young lady,” she means business! I wish I could spare her the pain of what’s coming if she doesn’t listen!
Wanda flopped her skinny frame back in the chair and stared pitchforks at Mrs. Chambers. “What!” she growled.
Mrs. Chambers gave Wanda her warmest smile and took a deep breath.
Uh-oh,
Skye thought.
Mrs. Chambers held up her hands and touched her index finger. “First, I want you to finish that English paper about nouns and verbs.”
Wanda slumped deep into the chair, folded her arms, and pursed her lips.
Mrs. Chambers then held up two fingers. “Secondly, and this will be after we eat supper and you’ve helped with the dishes, I’d like you to show the girls your newly decorated bedroom. No one has seen it since we went shopping on Saturday night and you picked out those new curtains and spread.”
Wanda didn’t move a muscle.
“Young lady, look at me when I speak to you,” Mrs. Chambers demanded.
Skye’s and Morgan’s eyes widened as they traded uh-oh glances.
Wanda didn’t move a muscle.
That girl’s digging her own grave,
Skye thought. “Wanda—”
“Girls,” Mrs. Chambers spoke calmly to Skye and Morgan, “please leave us alone for a few minutes. I’ll call you when I need help with supper.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Morgan said, backing her wheelchair away from the table.
“Yes, ma’am,” Skye said, standing.
As she and Morgan headed down the hallway to their rooms, Skye couldn’t help but let her mind drift into her past. “I’ve seen that look in Mom’s eyes before,” she whispered to Morgan, “and Wanda doesn’t have a clue what Mrs. Eileen Chambers, ‘special-needs therapist at
large,’ has in store for her. I really wanted to tell that kid to shape up, but I don’t think she’s ready to listen.”
“I’m afraid she’s going to have to learn the hard way,” Morgan whispered back.
“Wanda’s going to wish she
were
shoveling a ton of horse manure in about one minute.”
“She just might get her wish,” Skye said as she went into her bedroom. “She’ll find out soon enough not to mess with Mom.”
After a gourmet lasagna meal complete with salad, garlic bread, and brownies, the girls, including a grumpy Wanda, helped clean up. Mr. Chambers then headed downstairs to his computer repair shop while Mrs. Chambers went into the living room to read the paper. The three girls and two dogs followed her into the room. When Mrs. Chambers sat on the sofa the dogs jumped up and joined her, one on each side.
Wanda eyed the dogs with suspicion. “Can I shoot pool now?” she asked Mrs. Chambers.
“You tell me,” Mrs. Chambers. “What had I asked you to do first?”
“Do my homework and show these two yo-yos my bedroom.” Wanda parked her hands on her hips.
“Where’s the English paper?”
“It’s not done yet,” Wanda informed her.
“And you’re supposed to show
whom
your bedroom?” Mrs. Chambers grabbed the newspaper and opened it. She peered over the top and stared at Wanda.
“Oh, all right,” Wanda growled, folding her arms. “You want them to see my bedroom.”
“And their names are?” Mrs. Chambers peaked her eyebrows.
“Skye and Morgan,” Wanda mumbled.
“Excuse me?” Mrs. Chambers said.
“Skye and Morgan!” Wanda said louder and more distinctly.
“That’s right,” Mrs. Chambers said, shifting her glance to the paper. “After you give them an exclusive tour and show me that completed assignment, you may shoot pool for a half hour.”
“A half hour?” Wanda moaned, placing her hands back on her hips. “Is that all?”
Skye and Morgan waited in silence.
Mrs. Chambers never looked up from her paper. “Wanda, we went over all of this the first day you arrived. You have to earn your privileges at Keystone Stables, and you can start by working on your attitude. Consider yourself fortunate that you have—let me say
might have
—thirty minutes to yourself tonight.”
Wanda turned and stormed back down the hallway. “C’mon, you two. It’s showtime in my bedroom.”
“I’ve heard your room is really cool,” Skye said, leading the way with Morgan close behind. The two dogs followed, their toenails clicking on the hardwood floor.
At her doorway, Wanda turned and pointed at the dogs. “Keep those fleabags out. If they put one of their grimy paws in here, they’re dead meat.”
Skye and Morgan both looked at the Westies. “Sorry, fellas,” Skye said. “Go find Mom.”
As the dogs turned and raced back to Mrs. Chambers, Skye and Morgan entered Wanda’s room. Wanda had already stretched out on her bed, hands behind her head and high-top black sneakers planted into the spread. Morgan parked herself in the doorway.
Skye examined every corner of the bedroom with its new decor. The curtains, bedspread, and throw rug had billiard paraphernalia designs set in a dark green background. On one wall hung three posters of professional pool players, all men, posing at fancy billiard tables.
On the wall between two windows hung a green clock that had a tiny billiard ball for each number and mini pool sticks for the hands. Wanda’s dresser hosted two trophies, each about six inches high, nestled in the middle of a messy pile of junk.
“Wow, these decorations are really nice,” Skye said sincerely. “But where’d you find all this pool stuff?”
Wanda answered Skye almost with a tone of decency. “I’m sure you have no idea that in the back of the Super Sports Emporium in the mall is a whole section with pool stuff. They had all of it there. I’m also sure you have no idea that there’s a pool room with four brand-new pool tables behind the mall. The woman said she’d take me there sometime to shoot a few games.”
“Nope,” Skye said. “I didn’t know that. And who’s
the woman?”
“My prison warden, Eileen Chambers,” Wanda grumbled.
“I hope she never catches you calling her that,” Skye said. “Mom’s one tough cookie, Wanda. You better not mess with her. And Dad’s no pushover either.”
“She won’t,” Wanda sassed. “And I can take both of them on with one hand tied behind my back.”
“You’ll be sorry,” Skye warned.
“I didn’t even know they made pool stuff like this. It is definitely unique,” Morgan said, gazing around the room. “Well, I’ve got to get back to my algebra or I’ll pay for it big time tomorrow.” She backed out the doorway and wheeled down the hallway.
Okay,
Skye planned.
Let’s see if we can break the ice with this kid.
“What are those two trophies?” she asked.
“I won them in Harrisburg at two different junior billiard competitions last year,” Wanda boasted. “There were about a dozen boys and only two other girls beside me.”
Skye strolled over to the dresser and picked up one of the trophies. “They are really—”
Slam!
Skye felt herself spun around and pinned tightly against the wall while the trophy went flying out of her hand. Wanda shoved her nose right against Skye’s, and Skye stared into two brown eyes that flamed with hatred.
“Now listen, horse breath!” Wanda barked. “Get this straight. Keep your hands off my stuff. It’s your stinking fault I’m in this stinking mess. I don’t like you, and I don’t like this dump. As soon as I can make some connections, I’m outta here! So just stay out of my way. Got it?” Wanda released her grip but still stood only inches away from Skye, staring her down and almost breathing fire.
Wanda, this is the second time you’ve caught me off guard,
Skye stewed as she tightened her fists.
One sharp jab to your smart-aleck belly, and you’ll be doubled over in pain. Jesus, what should I do?
“Wanda,” Skye said with a sincere smile. “I’m praying for you. You’d really like it here if you’d give us a chance to help you.”
Pow!
Wanda seemed to reel as if Skye had planted a set of brass knuckles into her stomach. She quickly took a step back, and, with a look of confusion draped all over her face, she stood like her sneakers were nailed to the floor.