Evan and Nancy and I ended up going to see "Three Men and a Baby" with Tom Selleck. Afterwards, we went to the pizza parlor.
When we walked in, it was really crowded.
"Everybody must have had the same idea as we did," Nancy said.
"No kidding," Evan agreed. He pointed to the very back of the restaurant, near the kitchen doors. "There's a table back there."
He led the way, and Nancy and I followed along behind him. Once we seated at the tiny table, we were all kind of squashed together.
"Close quarters," Evan offered.
"Packed in like sardines," Nancy added.
We placed our order and the waitress brought our drinks. While we were waiting for the pizza, we talked about the movie.
Nancy was asking Evan what he thought of it.
"It was alright," Evan said. "Sort of a chick movie."
"It was not," Nancy told him. "What did you think, Harlie?"
"It was funny. I liked it."
Nancy regarded me across the table, and said, with what I considered to be sisterly candor, "You're too thin. Again."
"I'm not too thin," I denied, half-heartedly.
"That's your opinion," she said. "Evan thinks you're too thin, too. Don't you, babe?"
Evan took a drink of his Coke, and sized me up. "You're skinny," he said. "Your hair weighs more than the rest of you."
I stuck my tongue out at him. "I can eat more pizza than the two of you put together," I informed them.
"Challenge accepted," Evan said.
"You look good," Nancy said, continuing with the conversation, "It's just that you should gain a little weight."
I was tired of this particular topic. "You know what?" I told her. "You talk just like a sister."
Nancy smiled at me, looking satisfied. "Oh. Do I?" She reached over to take Evan's hand, and they both sat there, smiling at each other.
"What's up with you two?" I asked. "You're both acting goofy."
"That's love," Nancy said. Evan looked embarrassed but he was still grinning.
"Hmm," I said. "Well, Evan's okay, I guess. If you happen to like somebody opinionated, and full of stubbornness."
"Look who's talkin'," Evan said. "You've got me beat with all of that."
7
One of the boys in my homeroom class asked me to go out Friday night. His name was Steve Yager, and he was relatively new
to our school. He'd caught me at my locker between classes, and asked me.
"I know it's short notice," he told me. "But I was hoping you could go."
I changed my books, leaving my English book in the locker. "It sounds fun," I told him. "Can I call you and let you know? About five or so?"
"Oh. Sure." He wrote down his number on a piece of notebook paper from his binder.
"Thanks," I said, and gave him what I thought to be a dazzling smile. I don't know why I was flirting this way. It's not typical of me, really.
My smile must have been pretty good, because Steve looked a little startled, and then turned red in the face.
"Great. Thanks a lot, Harlie. "
I gave him a breezy wave, and went on to my next class. It was the last hour of the day, when I noticed that I was a little shaky.
It was, I was fairly sure, from my poor eating lately. I hadn't been eating much at lunch all week at school. It seemed like my stomach
was always in a knot, worrying about the whole situation with Karissa.
On the way home, I began rummaging thru Guthrie's glove compartment.
"Hey," he protested, as I tossed things into the seat. "What are you lookin' for?"
"A granola bar. Or something."
"I don't have any in here," he told me.
"Fine," I said, sitting back in the seat, and closing my eyes.
"You sick?" he asked me.
"Nope."
"I can stop at the store to get somethin' for ya," he offered.
"It's okay. Just go on home."
I kept my eyes closed until I realized that the truck had stopped. When I opened my eyes, we were in front of the grocery store.
"I told you that you didn't need to stop!" I snapped at him.
Guthrie ignored me, and got out, disappearing into the store. When he came back out, he was carrying a small sack, which he set
in the middle of the seat.
"I got a couple of different things," he told me, as he started the motor. "I didn't know what would be better for ya."
"I told you that you didn't need to stop," I said, again. I was being hateful, and I knew it. And to Guthrie, of all people! But I couldn't seem
to stop myself.
"I know what you told me," Guthrie said, looking in his rearview mirror, and then pulling back out onto the street.
I hesitated, and then reached for the sack. Guthrie had gotten a couple of different types of candy bars. And a box of granola bars, too. The chewy kind
that are my favorites. I felt easy tears threatening.
"I'm sorry I'm being so mean, Guth," I said, as I unwrapped one of the granola bars.
"The mood monster," he mumbled.
"What?" I asked him.
"I said, 'the mood monster'," he repeated. "You get like this whenever you need to eat somethin'."
"Thank you, Dr. McFadden," I said, but my words held no sting.
"You're welcome. I'll bill you," Guthrie said.
I ate one of the granola bars, and half of a candy bar. I began to feel better.
"You gonna eat the Hershey's bar?" he asked me.
"No," I said, and Guthrie held out his hand.
I handed him the chocolate bar.
When I told him about Steve asking me out, he wrinkled his forehead in thought.
"I don't know him that well," he said. "He seems alright, though."
"Yeah."
"You gonna go?" he asked me.
"I don't know. I don't think so. I want to do some reading on that law book."
7
When we went into the house, it smelled like cinnamon.
"Hannah's been bakin'," Guthrie said, in approval.
"I'm not hungry now," I said, and went upstairs to change my clothes.
When I came back downstairs, Crane was sitting on one of the couches, looking at a piece of paper. Since it wasn't that common for any of my brothers to be
inside at this time of the afternoon, I was a little surprised to see him there.
"Hi, Crane," I greeted him.
"Hey."
I went to stand beside the couch. "How are you?" I asked, in conversation.
"I'm alright. How are you?" he asked.
"Okay."
"Sit down here a minute," Crane said, gesturing to the spot next to him.
I obligingly sat down beside him. "What's up?" I asked.
"I thought maybe you could tell me," he said, and I looked at him, puzzled.
Crane held out the paper to me, and I took it, opening the fold. My school grades stared back at me. I'd forgotten that it was time for
progress reports from school to be mailed out. The A in English wasn't a surprise. Nor was the B plus in Home Ec. But the C- in pychology was a surprise. C- in algebra. But it was the D- in Biology that caused my heart to sink.
I looked from the paper to Crane's face.
"Not so good, huh?" I said, trying to sound light.
"Nope."
He had that look on his face. The one that I hate. His disappointed look. The one that says I've let him down. It made me want to shrivel up
inside.
"Please don't look at me that way," I said.
"How am I looking at you?" he countered.
"Like I'm a huge disappointment to you." I flung the paper back onto the spot between us.
"I am disappointed," Crane said. He regarded me seriously for a long moment. "What happened?"
"I did bad on a couple of tests."
"Finals," he corrected me.
"Yes. Finals," I admitted.
"Did you study?" he asked me.
"If I say that I did, will you be less ticked off at me?" I countered, and I could hear the sassy tone to my voice. That sassy caused Crane's
eyebrows to go up.
"Knock that off," he told me.
I sighed, in defeat. "Sorry," I mumbled.
"Okay. Now answer my question."
"I studied some." At his unwavering look, I sighed again. "But not much."
"How come?"
"I can't concentrate very well. Ever since this whole stupid thing with Karissa came about!"
"This is a huge deal, alright. I get that you're worried," he said.
I eyed him. "But?" I prompted, knowing that he had more to say.
"But, your whole school career's going to be full of times that there's something big going on in your life. Some good things. Some not so good. If you
drop the ball every time, well, you're not going to be very successful."
I winced at his words. He wasn't holding back.
"Okay," I said.
"Okay, what?" he asked.
"I get what you're saying. I messed up."
When he just looked at me, and didn't say anything, I bit at my lip.
"Now what?" I asked him, tremulously.
"I'd say you have some work to do. Get those grades brought up by the time report cards come out."
I nodded. "Am I grounded?" I asked.
"Do you need to be grounded?" Crane countered. "Or can you promise me to get them up?"
"I promise," I told him.
"Okay, then," he said. He reached over and patted my knee, before he stood up. "See you later," he said, and headed back
outside.
I sat there for a long time, until the churning in my stomach subsided. I absolutely hate it when Crane gets onto me like this.
I went to the kitchen, feeling disgruntled, and grouchy.
"Hi, sweetie," Hannah greeted me, from her spot at the kitchen able, where she was folding baby clothes.
"Hi." I went to take down a glass, and then filled it with water at the sink.
"We're having vegetable soup tonight," she said.
"That's good."
"Sit down here and talk to me," Hannah encouraged, patting the chair next to her.
"I better not," I said glumly. "I'll be in more trouble for not getting my chores done."
Hannah twisted in her chair to look at me. "What's happening?" she asked.
"My grades," I said, figuring that she already knew about it, since the letter would have been addressed to Adam. She'd know, and she'd also
know that even though it came addressed to Adam, it was mostly Crane who kept tabs on our grades. Meting out encouragement, or in my case,
a talking-to.
"Oh," Hannah said in answer, and I could tell that she did know.
"Come on. Sit for a minute," she insisted, and I sighed, sitting down next to her, and sipping at my water.
"Pretty rough, huh?" she asked.
"I hate it when Crane is mad at me," I said, picking absently at a thread on one of Isaac's little shirts.
"Is he angry? Or is he disappointed?" Hannah asked.
"With Crane, him being disappointed is the same as him being angry," I told her.
"Oh." Hannah folded another baby outfit.
Sitting there, I made a sudden decision.
"I have a date tonight," I told her.
"With Kenny?"
"No. A boy named Steven Yager. He's new."
"Do you know him very well?" she asked.
"Not real well," I admitted.
"This isn't really like you, Harlie," Hannah said, looking a little concerned. "Going out with a boy you don't really know, I mean."
"Well, it's a way to get to know someone better. Right?"
"I guess," she said, still looking slightly disapproving.
"I thought you wanted me to go out more," I reminded her. "To parties, and football games, and all of that."
"I do want you to."
"So it's okay then? I told him I'd call him by five to let him know."
"I think you should ask Adam," Hannah said.
"Okay," I conceded.
"Except he called, and he might be late getting home. He's in Stockton at a Cattlemen's Association meeting," she said, snapping her fingers
as she remembered.
Then she said the dreaded, ominous words. "Talk to Brian before you call Steven back."
I groaned. "Nooo."
Hannah smiled a little. "I'm sure Brian will be open to it. It's all in the way you go about it."
"Have you met Brian?" I asked, giving her a disbelieving look.
"A time or two," Hannah said, still smiling. She'd finished her folding of clothes, and stood up, gathering the pile in her arms. "I think he's in the barn,"
she said, before she headed up the back stairs.
I went out to do my chores, and then went back inside, and upstairs to get into the shower, plastic wrapped over my cast to keep it from getting
wet. I had all the wonderful hot water that I wanted, since it was so early, and no one else had claimed a shower yet. I stood under the hot water, shampooing and rinsing my hair two times.
I dressed in my good jeans and a green shirt that Hannah had bought me. I went down to the kitchen, and started setting the table. I thought about
asking Brian about my date, but he and Evan were talking about some fence that had been trampled over, so I chose to bide my time.
"I'm gonna grab a shower real quick before we eat," Evan announced, and went up the back stairs.
I thought of talking to Clare first. She'd be willing to speak up and/or soften Brian up for me.
"Where's Clare?" I asked Brian.
"She's workin' an extra shift at the hospital," Brian said.
"Oh," I said, disappointed. Within the next five minutes, as Hannah was spooning up soup, there was yelling from upstairs.
"Sounds like Evan's out of hot water," Brian said. At first he looked amused, then his expression turned worried. He turned to Crane. "There should
be plenty of hot water," he said. "Maybe the hot water heater's going totally out."
Crane frowned, looking worried too.
To dispel that look of worry on their faces, I offered, "It's still working. I might have used all the hot water."
Both of them turned to look at me.
"All of it?" Brian asked.
"Well, maybe."
For the first time Brian took in my more-dressed-up-than-usual appearance.
"What're you dressed up for?" he asked me.
"I'm not really dressed up," I said, trying to sound casual.
"Harlie has a date," Hannah offered helpfully.
"Well, you look nice, peach," Brian said. "Kenny's a lucky guy."
I gave Hannah a glance, and she nodded at me.
Before I could tell Brian that my date wasn't with the ever-faithful Kenny, Evan stormed down the back stairs, wearing clean jeans and tucking in his
shirt as he walked.
He took in my appearance, and my still-wet hair.
"Are you the one who used all the hot water?" he demanded furiously.
"Your hair's sticking up," I told him, reaching up to push a strand of his hair down flat.
"Quit," he ordered, smacking my hand away. "Maybe you ought to think of somebody besides yourself sometimes, you know that?"
"Don't be such a jerk," I told him, softly. Softly, but he still heard it, because he looked even angrier.
"What did you say?" he demanded.
I knew he'd heard me just fine.
I shrugged, pretending casualness. "You should comb your hair down before it dries like that," I told him. And more quietly, I added, "Egomaniac."
"Maybe so," Evan said, stepping closer to me, menacingly. "And maybe I ought to do somethin' else, too."
I knew a threat when I heard one.
"Geez, Ev," I said. "You don't have to be such a sorehead over some stupid hot water."
"It's time to eat," Hannah interrupted us to say. "Come on, you two."
I started to go to my spot at the table, when Brian caught at my arm. "Apologize," he told me.
I looked at him. "Okay," I said, still feeling rebellious. "I'm sorry for using all the hot water," I said to Evan, my tone not
entirely sincere.
"Not that," Brian said, sounding impatient. "For calling names."
"Which one?" I asked, still feeling sassy. "Jerk? Sorehead? Egomaniac?"
"Harlie," Brian said, his voice at a level five warning.
"I'm sorry, Evan," I said, less sassy and more sincere.
"You know what?" Evan said, looking disgusted. "Never mind."
He went to his chair at the table, and everybody else started sitting down, too.
Before he released my arm, Brian leaned in closer to me, and said, "Let's you and me have a talk after supper."
Was it any wonder that I could hardly eat, or that my stomach was tied up in knots yet again? Gahhh.
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