The next couple of days I sort of kept my head down as they say. I paid attention in class, and I did my homework, and, even though it
was hard, I did my best to concentrate in study hour last hour. Megan never did anything except sit and file her nails. Jacy hadn't made any
more comments to me, thank goodness. Chelsea goofed off, too, like mostly everybody else in there, but I did my best to keep working on
something.
I had an ominous sort of a feeling about Friday and Brian. I've helped all my life with ranch chores, but somehow, something about this
scared me a little. Daniel must have said something to Brian about how I'd been rude enough to hang up on him.
Yet, every time that I thought that, I would know, know, that he wouldn't have. So, if it wasn't Daniel saying something, then
Brian must just want to get me off by myself so he could rake me over the coals.
The more I thought about it, the more that I realized I had been pretty horrible of late. I'd had words of some sort with every
single male McFadden, with the exception of Ford. And of Isaac, of course.
It was Thursday, and Chelsea leaned over to whisper to me about did I want to hang out after school. I whispered back
that I couldn't, that I had to get home, but Chelsea only shook her head at me.
After I'd gone to my locker and was heading out to go home, Chelsea caught up with me, chatty as ever.
"Let's go for a ride or somethin'," she said.
"I have to get home," I said.
"You never get to hang out," she complained.
"I'm still grounded," I said.
"Oh. Yeah, I forgot. Man, they really stick with things at your house, don't they?"
"What do you mean?"
"It's just if my parents try to ground me for something-they always ease off, and never make me finish," she said.
I wondered what that would be like.
"I wish," I said.
Once at my truck, I opened the door, and tossed my bag and books into the cab.
I have to admit I was disconcerted, though not totally shocked, when Chelsea reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out
a pack of cigarettes, and a book of matches, and calmly lit one up.
"What are you doing?" I said, mildly. Like I said, I wasn't shocked or anything. Chelsea is a free spirit. A harmless rebel.
"It helps keep me calm," she said. "Want one?"
"No," I said.
"It really helps when you're stressed out," Chelsea said.
"It's bad for you, though," I said.
"Well, I gotta keep my sanity somehow," Chelsea said,
"You shouldn't do it here, on school grounds," I said. "Somebody might see you."
Chelsea shrugged, unconcerned.
It was while I was getting into the cab behind the steering wheel, and Chelsea was leaning in my open window, still smoking,
that I saw Mr. Best from across the parking lot, talking with another of the teachers. He seemed to be looking at us, and I said,
"Mr. Best is watching us-"
Chelsea tossed the cigarette to the ground and squashed it with her foot.
We talked a couple more minutes and then I headed on towards home.
After supper I did what was left of my homework, and then I went to sit outside on the front porch, in the swing, taking an oatmeal
cookie and a glass of milk with me. I also took my newest novel to read, and my test paper from Anatomy. It made me feel better, more hopeful,
to look at it.
Crane hadn't been home for supper, but he'd come driving up in the Jeep when I was sitting on the porch.
He came up the front porch steps, holding some papers in his hands.
"Hi," I said.
"Hey," he said, pausing.
There was a couple of moments silence.
"How's Ivy?" I asked.
"She's good."
"Will you tell her I said hi?"
"I'm sure she'd like it if you called her," he said.
I nodded, and then I picked up the Anatomy paper, and held it out towards him.
Crane reached out and took it from me, looking over it.
I was glad, and I was proud of it, and I was thinking that he would be, too, and that maybe this would cause a bit of thawing in
his thoughts and feelings towards me.
I didn't think he was going to go all crazy, and proclaim that I was back in his good graces or anything that good, but I did think he
might smile, and tell me I was on the right road, or something like that.
Instead, Crane looked it over, and then he nodded, and handed it back to me again. "That's good, Harlie," he said.
Harlie. Not 'Peanut'. Or 'Kiddo'.
I couldn't help but be disappointed at his reaction. I'd been expecting something more for sure.
I was holding the paper back in my hand, and looking at him, and I felt it. Crane was like one of Daniel's guitar strings. He was
taut. That's the way I would describe it. Something was wrong. Something more than my grades of lately.
"What's wrong?" I asked him, with trepidation. I didn't really want to know, but I still asked.
"What happened after school today?" he asked me, then. Quietly.
At first I blinked at him, confused. "After school?" I echoed.
"Yes. After school."
The screen door opened, and Adam came out. I hardly looked his way, though, because I was trying my best to keep
my eyes on Crane's face.
"Nothing," I said, sort of lamely. I didn't know what he was talking about. "I came home."
"In the school parking lot," Crane prompted.
I scrambled for my thoughts, and then-I realized with a thud.
"Chelsea was smoking a cigarette," I said. "Mr. Best might have seen her-"
"Chelsea Edmonds?" Adam asked.
I looked at Adam for a moment, and nodded, and then looked back to Crane. Was that what Crane was referring to?
"Were you smoking, too?" Crane asked.
I stared at him, shocked. Did Mr. Best tell Crane that?
"No!" I said.
They were both surveying me with faces of granite. "I wasn't!" I insisted.
Now Brian came out onto the porch. I felt as though I couldn't get my breath. All of them-out here-what in holy hell...
My stomach was knotted, and my mind was racing. Mr. Best had told Crane-then Crane must have called and talked to Brian or to Adam-
and now they were making a united wall of approaching me-accusing me.
"What happened?" Adam asked, then, and he sounded calm enough.
"We were walking out together," I began, "And then-we were talking by my truck-and Chelsea lit up a cigarette. She asked me if I wanted
one, and I said 'No'. And then-I saw Mr. Best at a distance, and Chelsea put out her cigarette."
Still granite faces.
"That's it," I said.
The three of them exchanged one of those looks. Talking without words. I scooted forward on the swing, staring at them.
"That's the truth!" I said, raising my voice.
"None of us said we don't believe you," Adam said, quietly. "We're just asking about what happened."
"Not the best idea to be around her if she's gonna do that on school grounds," Brian told me.
"It wasn't like it was a long time, or anything," I protested. "Just a few minutes! I told her she shouldn't be doing it there."
"That's good that you tried," Crane said.
I was still stunned. And now, I began to get upset. Really upset. Angry.
"What have I done to make Mr. Best hate me?" I demanded of them. "He could have asked me about it-instead of immediately
calling you, Crane!"
"He didn't call me," Crane said. "We saw each other at a meeting, and he mentioned it then. That's all."
"And that's better?" I said, still upset. "I've always tried to be honest with him-and respectful, and all of that! And yet here he is,
telling you that I'm smoking in the school parking lot when I wasn't doing any such thing!"
"He didn't accuse you, Harlie," Crane said. "He was just concerned."
"It's our job to ask you about it, sugar," Adam said.
I was glad he was calling me by his pet name for me. I was glad that they said they believed me. I was still upset, though-and simmering
inside at Mr. Best. Crane left his spot, and came over to sit beside me on the swing. He rested his arm around the back, but I sat forward so
he couldn't touch my shoulders.
"Yeah," I said. "It's a great job you've all got, isn't it?"
"Hey," Crane said, quietly.
I shook my head in frustration. "Good grief," I muttered.
The sound of Isaac crying rang out from inside the house.
"Scooter's upset," Brian said.
"Yeah. His teeth are really botherin' him," Adam said. "I'd better go see if Hannah needs some help." He paused, looking back at
me. "Don't take this to heart, alright? We asked you about it, and you told us what happened. End of it. Okay?"
"I guess," I said, not feeling it.
Adam went on inside, the screen flapping closed.
I looked at Crane. "Are we done? Can I go in now?"
I wouldn't say I was being rude, but I wasn't being nice, either.
Crane nodded, looking regretful.
"Good night," I said, and went inside as quickly as I could. I went to do my shot, and then went upstairs to my bedroom.
7
I was curled up on my bed with only my little lamp on, reading. Escaping into another world thru a book, that's what reading
does for me sometimes.
It was around nine or so, and there was a light rap on my bedroom door.
"Come in," I said, and Adam opened the door and stepped in a couple of feet.
"Ready for bed?" he asked me.
"Yeah." I twisted to sit up, laying my book aside, and hugging my knees to my chest. "How's Isaac?"
"Sleepin' now," Adam said.
Adam came over closer to my bed. "Are you winding down a little?"
His tone was kind, but I still felt as though it was criticism.
"I guess," I said.
"Listen," Adam said, slowly, "Don't be het up at Mr. Best at school tomorrow. He was just doin' his job."
"I just don't get being accused of something like that," I said. "I've never given any reason for him to think bad of me-I don't even
like the smell of cigarette smoke!"
"He definitely does not think badly of you. And, I'm glad that you aren't planning on smoking," Adam said.
I sighed, hard, and we looked at each other for a full-on few moments.
"I can see you're feeling bad lately," he said. "I want you to feel better, sugar."
"I'm not trying to worry you," I said. "I got a really good grade on a test, and Crane didn't even act like he cared, Adam!"
Adam looked pensive. "I know he cared, Harlie."
I sighed again.
"We've got to figure some stuff out," Adam said.
"I'm trying," I said, sort of low.
Now, it was Adam that sighed. "Okay. Well, I'm beat, and you need to get to sleep. Remember what I said about
tomorrow, and Mr. Best. No attitude to him. Alright?"
"Yeah," I said, shortly, my eyes drifting away from his.
"Harlie." Now he sounded stern.
I turned my eyes back to him. He raised his eyebrows slightly, and he I knew it was the way I'd answered him.
"Yes," I said, instead.
"Okay. Did you do your shot?"
I nodded, and he said, "Alright. Goodnight."
"Goodnight," I said.
"Turn off the lamp and go to sleep," he said, and then went out and closed the door.
7