* * *

“Marti! Help, quick somebody please!” I screamed, my bare feet pounding on the asphalt. The glare of the headlights whizzing by blinded me, but I kept running, afraid to stop, afraid to lose the faint glow of those red taillights fading into the distance. I tripped over something on the shoulder, falling. Gritty residue from the side of the highway scraped along my arm, smearing me with dark streaks. The rain made my eyes cloud with watery black mascara. As the cars flew by they splashed up sheets of hot, dirty road water but I was too terrified to care. I leaned back against the cold concrete barrier, trying to think if there was some way I could have prevented this.

 


Three hours earlier I had been riding shotgun in Marti’s Honda with my eyes burning like wildfire.

  “I think I’m allergic to this stuff.”

  “Don’t be silly, you look gorgeous.” Marti smiled with her lips but not her eyes. She was staring at the road but her mind was someplace far, far away.

  “Well I don’t know.” I flipped open the mirror on my visor and studied my reflection. I looked nice enough in my contacts (which Marti somehow managed to wheedle me into) and black mascara on my dusky lashes. I was wearing a nice top of Marti’s and a pair of shorts. I wasn’t as nervous tonight as I had been at Madelene’s. Somehow I was too busy being worried about Marti to worry about myself.

  “We’re almost there.” She swung into a vacant lot near the water. Down on the pier there were a few hundred kids looking like your typical bunch of intoxicated idiots. I held my breath, hoping Marti wasn’t going to be stupid enough to actually go down there.

  “You coming?” She smiled, wickedly. Somehow deep down both of us knew that I knew that she was up to something.

  “Of course.” I replied, just as wickedly. No way I was going to back out now. Marti looked a little miffed.

  “Well come on then.”

We walked into the throng of people, and Marti kicked off her shoes. “Here, put your shoes in with mine in my bag, Meg.” I obeyed, wiggling my toes free, loving the feel of sand between them. We pushed our way through the crowd without any mishaps until we got to Madelene and her crew.

 “Hi!” Madelene shrieked, her almost white blonde hair jiggling crisply under its layers of hairspray. “Come sit down and have something to drink M!” She saw me and giggled. “Or should I say double M!” She laughed so hard she almost chocked on her beer. “Oh my god we’re the three M’s! The three musketeers!”

 I recoiled with dislike, sitting gingerly down on the sand as far away from the bucket of iced drinks as possible.

 The music from the bandstand started up, louder than a thunder squall and full of profanity. I wanted to crawl under the beach blanket and die.

 I turned to give Marti a disgusted look, but she was already gone.

* * *

  “Hi honey! Are you having fun?” My mother’s voice drifted clear and familiar through the air waves from miles and miles away.

   “Hi Mom, yeah it’s been a blast so far.” I waited for the inevitable firing squad of questions.

   “Are you eating?”

Here it comes.

I sighed. “Yes, Mom I’m eating fine.” My mother lives in constant fear that I’m malnourished, just because I have lean bones. I got them from my dad’s side of the family and she’ll never get used to them.

 “Are you and Marti getting along?” Here was a question I hadn’t expected, and I didn’t know how to answer. Were we getting along? I didn’t really know, but I didn’t want to explain the whole situation to my mother. I also didn’t want to be so vague that she would ask a million more questions that I would have no choice but to answer. The trick was balance.

  “Oh sure. But you know how it is when you share a room with someone for a few days.” I laughed. “Marti’s so messy!” There. Just the right amount of truth.

 My mom laughed too. “Try living with your Dad.”

My dad. He was messy. Oh how I missed him though!

  “What are you doing tonight?” She asked.

   “Going to another party.” I tacked in “another” so she’d know that I hadn’t been a complete introverted, anti-social all week.

  “A party? Fun. Who all’s going to be there? Have you met a lot of Marti’s friends? I hope you will be responsible. Try to look pretty.”

Ah, the party advice. Here we go. Look pretty. Talk to the boys. Wear your hair in a new style. Blah blah blah.

Did she think I didn’t try?

“I should go get ready, mommy. Talk to you later.”

 “Ok sweet pea! I miss you. I’ll call you tonight and you can tell me all about it.”

Yeah sure. If I was still in one piece.

  “Ok. I’ve really got to run.”

  “Ok, love you honey!”

  “I love you too.”

* * *

  “What?” Marti asked incredulously, her baby-blues blinking daftly.

  “I don’t mind coming with you.” I repeated, doing my best imitation of an innocent smile. “But I’m not wearing my contacts.” I added this, just to make sure she knew I was still me.

  “You’re sure you want to? Because I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

Ha. I tried not to laugh at the pure ridiculousness of that statement. Marti had been trying to get me to do things I didn’t want to do my entire life.

She was biting her lip, looking like a worried puppy whose master had suddenly offered them a treat for no reason. I could see the wheels turning in her head, trying to work it out so her plans, whatever they were, wouldn’t be ruined by my presence at this party.

  “What time are we leaving?” I asked sweetly.

   “Nine.”

   “Nine?” Are you kidding me? “That’s usually when I come home from parties,” I said, trying not to grimace.

   “Well like I said, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to Meg. I’ll understand.” She gave a phony little half-laugh. “After all, I’ve dragged you to enough stuff already this week.”

Not so fast. You won’t get rid of me that easily Miss Marti.

 “Oh no, I really don’t mind.” I replied hastily, before she could talk me out of it. She was going to meet someone there, I was certain of that. And with the strange way she’d been acting, I wanted to make sure that I was around to see who this joker was and what he wanted with Marti. Or what she wanted with him.

Marti’s smile started to look like it was just pasted on her face, not really there at all.

  “Ok. Cool.” She said, unable to think up another excuse.

I’d won.

But the battle hadn’t even started yet.


I looked back into the mirror, and wondered what kind of torment I could expect tonight from the “McGilligan Beach” crowd. I pulled my hair into a twisty and sighed from behind my spec’s. Sometimes I didn’t like being the nerdy one.
Sometimes I wished I could be beautiful.
Like Marti.


  “Hey,” Marti popped her head back in the doorway. “Your mom’s on the phone, Meggy.”

I sighed. If there was anything that could make me feel less beautiful, it was a conversation with my mother.

* * *

 “Oh good! I knew you wouldn’t let me down.” Mart splashed her feet in the water, and smiled, saying, “Bye! See you later.” to her phone friend. I quickly dashed back up the steps into the house before she could turn around. I hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. But somehow curiosity had just gotten the better of me.

I busied myself in the house, wringing out my long blonde hair. It fell in crinkly waves down my back, sticking to my shoulders. I pulled on my spec’s as Marti knocked on the door.

  “Meg, you want to try your contacts tonight?”

I recalled my last experience with contacts and grimaced.

  “No. Why? What’s tonight?”

   “Remember, you said last night that you’d come with me and Maddie to the big boating party down at McGilligan’s Beach.”

 “What?” I dropped my hairbrush in the kitchen sink. “I don’t remember saying anything about going to a big beach party!” I could feel my pulse quicken and my hands start to sweat. I’d thought I was done with parties after last night. And now she was going to drag me to some beach bash? “Marti, don’t you know what goes on at parties like that?” I asked incredulously.

 “Well, you don’t have to come. I can’t blame you for not wanting to I guess. After all, it’s not really your crowd.” She tapped her lower lip with her finger thoughtfully. “You don’t really mind if I go though do you? Just for a little while?” Her big eyes reminded me of a pet kitten, entreating me to let her play with a ball of yarn.

  I suddenly realized what she was doing.

There hadn’t been any mention of this party last night.

She was meeting him there.

Whoever was on the phone was going to be at that party, I just knew it.

She expected me to say no.

She wanted me to say no.

 

Therefore, obviously my only choice was to say yes.

* * *

“Where were you really?” I asked licking the frothy, pink foam off my upper lip. Marti’s eyes were daggers, her face frozen in a frown again. I wished I hadn’t said anything.

  “At the store.” She said coolly.

  “But where else?” I persisted, my worry for her over-powering common sense. “I know you Marti, and I know when you’re hiding something from me. And you are.”

  “I’m not hiding anything.” She snapped.

   “Then tell me where you were.” I said, feeling myself slip back into dangerous territory.

   “Oh Meg, why can’t you ever understand that what you don’t know won’t hurt you?” She sighed and stood, swinging recklessly out of the tree. I shivered watching her drop effortlessly onto the grass below. I set my glass down and inched my way over to the rope, sliding cautiously down after her.

  “Because, what I don’t know could hurt you.”

  “It’s nothing, alright? You wouldn’t get it and I don’t want to tell you.”

I was hurt.

  “Fine then. You don’t have to.” I fidgeted with a strand of hair and stared pitifully out at the water.

  Marti rolled her eyes. “Oh stop it, Miss Drama Queen.” She smiled and hugged me with such a silly smile that I had to laugh.

  “Come on. I want to finish that chapter I was on. Sebastian still hasn’t found Cosette, and the evil Vladimir is still threatening to make her marry him.”

I laughed again, wondering how Marti could stand to read such trash.

I walked inside and took a shower. When I came out Marti wasn’t on the porch. Her book lay open on the shays lounge where she’d left it.

  “Uncle Gerry, where’s Marti?” I called, but he’d already left for his weekly meeting up at the capitol. I walked down to the water. Marti was sitting on the dock, her legs hanging over the edge into the water. She wasn’t reading. She was on her phone.

That same voice, deep down inside of me, told me not to make a sound. Logic and conscience nagged at me to say something, but before I could decide which to listen to, I’d heard half the conversation. And that half was so intriguing that it was impossible not to hear the other half.

 
  “Don’t tell him ok?” Marti said urgently. “He’s not going to understand and neither will she. Look I just want to try it. Who knows? We could have fun.” She paused and laughed at whatever the speaker on the other end of the line said. “Oh don’t be a spoil sport.”

  I shook my head. Don’t do it, whoever you are!

How many times had those words gotten me into trouble? Too many. And now this other person was facing Marti’s charm for himself. I had few doubts that it would get him into trouble too.

What was the favor she was asking, and who was she talking to? My mind was awhirl with possible candidates. Someone from Madelene’s last night? Or Madelene herself perhaps?

I wished I knew.

* * *

I felt the color drain out of my freckled cheeks. Horrified with myself, I sank heavily down onto the shay’s lounge wondering what on earth had possessed me to scream at her like that.

I hadn’t seen my best friend cry in almost ten years. Marti never cried. Not even when she broke her arm at summer camp. Or when her dog died. Or when she left every summer. The last time I’d seen her cry was when her mom died. Since the day she came back to school two weeks later, I’d never seen a single tear in her eyes.

And now.

I’d shouted horribly at my dearest friend in the world and made her cry. I tried to think, to figure out how I could have let loose like that.

I’d just been so afraid for her, and so angry. Angry at what? Angry at her for leaving the house? No. I realized I’d been angry because I knew she was keeping secrets from me.

 

I cleaned up the mess of glass shards and lemonade on the porch and made a batch of strawberry smoothies. With my peace offering in hand, I shuffled nervously down to the water’s edge where there was a weeping willow tree, the only one around for miles and miles, where Marti and I had built a tree house the first summer we came here together.

The tree house was really just a tree with a large board resting between three of its sturdy branches, just big enough to hold two people. Marti had hung all of her old root beer bottles and coke -a-cola bottles along with pieces of mirror and glass from its boughs. Wind chimes and bird feeders hung there too, creating a magical collection of twinkling lights and sweet songs. Marti once said that each piece that hung from the tree was a memory.

  When I got there, she was up in the tree with her head leaning against the faded wood, her eyes closed tight and her hands clasped.

 
  “Marti?” I called weakly, willing myself not to be anxious. “Can I come up?”

Her reply was too muffled to make out.

I swallowed hard. “I brought smoothies.”

She said nothing.

  “Please let me come up Marti. I can explain, sort of.”


  “Oh come up if you want to.” She mumbled, tossing the climbing rope down to me.

I smiled and tugged myself up. Climbing a tree with two smoothies in one hand isn’t easy. I managed to shimmy to the board and deliver the treat. Marti smiled when she saw it.

  “Oh Meg, still offering your friendship bribes I see.” She laughed and took a sip, easing my nerves. I remembered the last time Marti and I had fought. We were seven years old and I’d bought her a teddy bear to say I was sorry. I smiled over the memory. Marti still had the teddy bear.

  “Well, a smoothie won’t last as long.”

 “But it’s twice as delicious.” She said softly, looking up at me. Our eyes met and I knew all was forgiven, if not forgotten.

* * *

“I just thought it was kind of weird you’re being gone so early. You know?” I stammered lamely. I dropped my eyes, feeling her accusing gaze pierce me like a needle.

Marti stood there like a diva with her hands on her hips and her pretty mouth twisted into a frown.

  “Meg, in the future would you mind not scaring my father half to death every time I leave the house?” She snatched up her phone and flounced out of the room.

Shocked to hear Marti say something so callous, I stood motionless for a moment, the sunlight from the window making me squint.

Then as her words hit me, my own temper was riled.

It had been a long week of late nights, busy days and junk food. Neither of us were ourselves, and my patience was down to the last drop. Something in me snapped.

 

I stormed after her, outside onto the deck.
Marti was already sitting on the shays lounge looking like a queen. She had a romance novel in one hand and a glass of lemonade in the other, and her dark hair clung to her neck, held there by the breeze.

I cleared my throat, waiting for her to look up at me. She took her time.
  “Look, I was just concerned about you! Don’t ask me why, but I was. Oh gee, that’s right! Maybe because you’re my best friend,” She didn’t flinch at my sarcasm. I bit my tongue, trying to keep the next words from flying out of my mouth, but I just couldn’t. “…and you were hanging out with a lot of creeps last night.”

Marti’s lips parted in a breath of indignation. She slammed her book onto the wooden floor and jumped up.

  “Creeps!? Weren’t you talking to one of those “creeps” all night yourself?”

I regretted my hasty words instantly, but I was too stubborn to back down now. “Yes, and he was the only one there who had an IQ over 30! As for his bleached-blonde, bubble-head sister, I don’t know how you stand being in the same room with her!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. Years of silent thoughts of anger and jealousy suddenly came spilling out and I couldn’t stop them.

  Marti didn’t scream back. In fact, she didn’t say anything at all. She just stared at me for a long, strained minute, and her deep eyes filled with tears. Then she turned and ran down the porch steps, knocking over her lemonade. The glass shattered on the planks sending the sticky, sweet yellow liquid across my toes and down the steps where it could be heard trickling onto the hot stones of the walkway.

* * *

My straining lungs almost burst. I whirled.


  “Where were you?” I shouted at Marti, my face turning red with relief. Uncle Gerry swept her up in a tight daddy-hug.

  Marti looked bewildered. “I was at the store! Didn’t you get my note?” She said to me over Uncle Gerry’s shoulder. She looked at us like we were crazy. “I left it right by the coffee pot.”

All of a sudden I couldn’t explain why I had been so nervous. It had just been a feeling.

  “You left your phone here, and it just didn’t seem right. We were a little worried, that’s all dear.” Uncle Gerry said softly. Marti looked stricken when she saw tears in his eyes.

  “I’m so sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to worry you.” She looked close to tears, herself. Uncle Gerry smiled reassuringly, kissed Marti’s forehead and left the room.

As soon as he was gone, Marti turned to me. “What was that all about?”


  “We just....,” I groped for words. I couldn’t fathom our sudden panic anymore either. What was so weird about a girl running to the store for milk and bread and forgetting to take her cell phone?


Everything. A tiny voice whispered in the back of my head. Marti never got up early, she never knew what was in the refrigerator, she never left her phone more than two feet away…. it just didn’t add up.

Time for a little sunshine....

Well. I’d  say it’s time for a little sunshine. Don’t know if it’s these radiant January days in the pacific northwest, the turn of the semester, or just life, but people seem to be feeling a bit down lately.

I understand. I’m right there with you through all the stress, the insecurity and the struggle of being a person who has literally every single thing they need at their fingertips. Don’t get me wrong, I am one of America’s biggest whiners, and even when you have every physical thing you could want, there are still needs that go un-met. But I think it’s time we all got a little perspective on the world.

Sure, it’s a bad place. No denying it. There’s drugs, death, abuse, disloyalty, unfairness, criminals, swine flu, and not nearly enough Cool Ranch Doritos to make up for it.

But there are good things out there too. And (ahem, excuse my constant Lord of the Rings references) those good things are worth fighting for!
If we hold on to each other, pray and laugh when we’d rather cry, and fight hate with love and never stop dreaming impossible dreams, eventually we’ll see the sun again.

Even when you feel the evils of this world closing in, even when all hope is lost, remember:

Good will always triumph over evil. And Love is a greater power than Hate.

* * *

I felt my stomach sink to my knees.

Her phone was on her night stand right where she’d left it. I picked it up and typed in her pass code.

Access denied.

She’d changed her pass code. Great.

I swallowed, feeling panic grip my whole body. Uncle Gerry had the wild look of a mad scientist who had just been electrocuted by some crazy experiment gone bad.

I felt sick. Where had she gone? Who was she with?

 “Was she talking to anyone unusual last night?” Uncle Gerry asked, his face suddenly pale and young looking, like a frightened child. I could see that other Uncle Gerry. The one sitting in Aunt Grace’s hospital room the night of her accident. Aside from my own fear, I felt his radiating out of him and filling the room.

  “I don’t remember.” I said, frantically, almost in hysterics. Figures. The one night I was talking to a boy. Searching my memory, I tried to remember who Marti had spent most of her time with at the party. Madelene and Brad had gone off alone almost immediately, and Marti had winked at me talking to David and walked off. I hadn’t seen her until a few minutes before we left. I couldn’t think. My mind was fuzzy with fear.

 I saw that tortured look in his eyes as he stared at an old photo of Marti and her mom that sat on the dresser, and I wanted to shut out the pain of that look forever.

  “I’ll go get your keys Uncle Gerry and we’ll go find her right now! It’s all going to be just fine. You’ll see,” I gasped the words as fast as I could. My voice didn’t even sound like my own. It was hollow and distance and terribly shaky. He didn’t respond or move. His eyes were looking into the past at his little girl and her dead mother.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll find her.” I repeated desperately, tugging on his arm. “Let’s go right now.”

  “Go where?” A familiar voice asked from the doorway.

Reflecting

This year I’ve often thought, “All I do is write, write, write!”

But I’ve really been doing much more than that. I’ve been telling a story.

Two very different things, writing and telling a story. They’re not quite as simple as you might think.

Most of the time this year I haven’t known how my stories will turn out. They’re always a little crazy, and a little wonderful, and a little scary all at once. Every story I write I learn a little bit about myself. During November I remember learning a lot about perseverance, patience, friendship, trust, faith, and how to survive on four hours of sleep a night.

Over the past few months, writing has been both a chore and an addiction. Some days (like today) my mind is too feverish with confused thoughts and feelings even to get words out on the page in a way that makes vague sense. Other days I am as anxious as any enthusiastic reader. I sit down with my fingers poised over the keys just wondering what will my characters face today? Where will this story take me?


This year I’ve learned that I can be successful.
I’ve learned that I can fail.
I’ve also learned that no success comes free of a little failure, and no failure is complete as long as you can learn from it.
Through every writing attempt I’ve made, I’ve discovered that the only ones worth reading are those that I pour my heart into.
I've found that the blank page is always there to listen.

This year has been full of wondering. I’ve wondered about myself and whether or not I’ll even make it through the day. I’ve wondered about friends, family, x’s and y’s, Heaven and Eternity, tomorrow, and yesterday. I’ve spent more time thinking and less time talking.

Every single day this year I’ve had to remind myself of the promise I made on day one. Mr. A made us promise not to use a word. It’s a word that has a lot of power. Power to destroy, not what already exists, but what could exist in the future.

The word is “can’t.”



Can’t.



And when times get tough and the word count simple will not pass 250 (or five hundred as of today) or when I’m sitting in class trying not to scream about my algebra homework, or when my grade point average isn’t perfect, or when I’m thinking of the future and all I want to do in life, I bite my tongue and try not to say, “I can’t.”

I’ll admit that I’ve broken that promise. Not once. Not twice. A lot. But not enough to stop me from persevering.


Things are about to change. This year has already been full of changes. But it’s about to change even more I think. I can kind of feel it coming. And I know that with all the challenges life throws my way,  I'll be tempted to break that old promise again and again. But with a little faith, a keyboard, a Bible, good friends, coffee, a blog, and an imagination, I’m going to make it through life.
One day
One story
One paragraph 
One word at a time.  

* * *

Went to store. Back at 10. Was what the note said. I had been feeling much better after a good night’s sleep, but now this. Uncle Gerry just shrugged when he saw it and returned to the screaming pages of his morning newspaper.

  “Why would she go to the store this early?” I asked, suspicious from the start.

  “She probably knew we needed milk and bread.” He glanced up at me from under his square, lawyer-like spectacles and raised his brow at me. “What makes you so motherish this morning?”

I looked away, not wanting to seem over-protective or jealous of Madelene. I didn’t trust her or her friends, or even her brother now, but I didn’t want Marti’s dad thinking I was some immature shadow of Marti’s. I couldn’t tell him about the party, and how weird Marti had acted last night.

  “No reason.” I fumbled with the corner of page 431 in my book, wishing he’d stop staring me down like that. Uncle Gerry had never specifically told me what he did for a living, and Marti never mentioned it, but I always suspected that it was something involving interrogation. No one could survive for long under that dark brown and critical gaze.

I sipped my coffee and added a dash of cream. I could feel his stare sink into my bent forehead searching for the truth.

  “Is something wrong with Marti?”

I looked up again, surprised. He suddenly looked worried too, which unnerved me to a whole new level. I’d never seen Uncle Gerry worried.

All of a sudden my throat went dry and my hands clammed up, and all I could think about was Marti.

  Uncle Gerry put down his paper as I reached for my cell.

I saw his face and remembered the last time I’d seen it that way. I’d only been eleven, but I remembered it like yesterday. Uncle Gerry was remembering too.

I dialed.

It rang.

It rang again.

And again.

Uncle Gerry stood up.

“Hi you’ve reached Marti’s cell. Leave a message… IF YOU DARE!” I could hear my own laughter in the background as Marti’s voice shrieked the last few words. The computer voice came on, giving me instructions I had no time for.

At the tone, record your message or press one for more options. To leave a call-back number press five.

Would that idiotic voice never shut up?

Beep.
At last.

“Hi Marti, it’s Meg. Call back as soon as you get this, ok?” I licked my lips and hung up. But I couldn’t let it go.

I dialed again.

And again, it rang.

“Shhhh.” Uncle Gerry whispered. He tilted his head and we listened. I hear Marti’s muffled ringer echoing distantly from down the hall.

* * *

Marti was a night owl. In all the years we’d been friends I’d never known her to go to sleep before I did.

  So when we got home and she asked, “Ready for bed?” I almost fell off my feet. Something was up. But I was too confused and worried to try to figure out what it was. So I just said sure, and we climbed into our bunks in Marti’s room, said our goodnights and turned out the light. She was breathing steadily within minutes. Normally Marti and I would stay up and talk for hours about everything from which M&M color we ate first to the meaning of life itself. But not tonight. Tonight we were busy with other things:

Marti was sleeping.

I was worrying.

  Finally I couldn’t take lying down anymore. Somehow worrying is a sport which requires sitting up. So I went out to Marti’s kitchen in my pj’s and slippers and made a cup of coffee. The night air was warm, and the stars were out, so I drank it on the deck out by the rippling waves. I thought about life, and its changes. I thought about how friends grow apart. Mostly I thought about how each of us grow apart from our former self: each year becoming a new individual with different thoughts, feelings, hopes and dreams.

And I prayed, as I hadn’t prayed in a long time.

 

And the stars smiled down on me like lost friends in the sky.

* * *

As I digested this piece of news, Marti said nothing, which wasn’t normal for her.

  “Did you have fun?” I asked, feeling it necessary to return the question. As soon as I had asked it I retreated back into my own whirling circle of thoughts. But Marti didn’t answer.

I looked up.

Her face was lined with worry.

   “You ok?”

Her head snapped around, as though she’d forgotten  I was in the car.

  “Oh sure. Just have a lot on my mind.”

Like what? I wondered. I’d spent the whole week with her and she hadn’t seemed like this. I thought back through the past couple of hours, trying to remember who Marti had talked to. I must have been enjoying my conversation with David more than I’d realized, because I couldn’t remember where Mart had been or who she’d seen.

Suddenly I felt a prickle of fear crawl up my back.

I had seen that look on Marti’s face before. It was the face she’d worn right before she decided to jump out of a plane on the end of a bungee cord.

Only now there wasn’t any bungee. And I didn’t know what plane she was jumping out of.

* * *

 I finally managed to stagger out to the deck. Madelene was still gushing over Marti, introducing her to some blurry figures I couldn’t quite make out.

  “Marti’s an amazing swimmer. I think she could beat even you in a race Brad.”

 Brad. A jock name if there ever was one.

 “And she’s a good writer David. She’d give you a run for your money if she went to school here.”

 

Hmm David. A journalist name. This one had promise in my book. I whipped out my glasses for a quick peek. The said David was tall and good-looking, and he wore geeky glasses that I realized with horror were the same model as mine! Had I really been dumb enough to buy guy glasses? I shoved them back into my knit bag and walked shyly up, hoping nobody would notice me.

  “Oh Maddie! You remember Meg don’t you?” So much for going unnoticed. Marti grabbed my arm and towed me to the middle of the little circle that was gathering around her.

Something I’d noticed about people is that we’re all divide into two categories: suns and planets.

Marti was definitely a sun. And she always had her planets that revolved around her. I’m her Mercury of course.

From what I could tell of Madelene, she seemed like a sun too, but in the wake of Marti’s friendly kindness she faded, seeming over-done and artificial by comparison.

  Now I was in the center of Marti’s little universe, feeling swallowed whole.

“Are you from Richfield too, Meg?” The writer boy asked me. A fellow brain in a world of beer-swilling apes, he spoke nerd and actually knew how to have a conversation. To my surprise we started talking and got along pretty well. Before I knew it, the two of us had spent the whole party on the deck talking about this and that.

When he said goodbye he asked for my number, a new experience for me.

 

  “Did you have fun?” Marti prodded coquettishly as we walked out to her car. I blushed and nodded. Marti laughed. “David’s nice. He’s doesn’t seem much like Madelene, but I guess they’re actually pretty close.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, unsure of what she was getting at.

  “He’s her brother.”

* * *

  When Madelene opened the door a battle of screams erupted and so did my eardrums.

 

"You came!" Madelene shrieked in that sugary sweet way that made me feel sick. She pulled Marti into the house and I followed nervously. There was barely room to stand there were so many kids crammed into that house, and I felt like a sardine.

Madelene and Marti disappeared into the crowd almost instantly, and I felt my stomach drop. I tried to follow, but there was no room to move in the entry way. So I waited, feeling the eyes boring into me from all directions. Whenever anyone glanced my way they eyed me warily and then snickered. I caught my reflection in one of Madelene’s huge windows. Sure, I didn’t look like a cool kid: my sandy blonde hair was pulled up into a bun and I was wearing jeans and a tee, but I didn’t look like the freak they seemed to think I was.

   Their nerd-branding stares made me want to start spouting information on photosynthesis and Shakespeare and prove them right. But I couldn’t let Marti down. So I tugged my hair out of its up-do and pulled off my glasses. There. I looked a little less conspicuous without my frames. Satisfied that I could now pass as socially acceptable I scanned the room for Marti and Madelene.

Catching a glimpse of them walking out onto the deck, I started forward.

But of course I couldn’t see, so I smacked into someone almost immediately.

  “Whoa babe, watch where you’re going.” A guy in his twenties said laughing. He steered me straight again, but I collided with someone after only a few more steps. I heard giggles.

Sweat broke out on my brow and I could feel a lump growing in my throat.

I hate parties. I thought.

* * *

We walked up the steps and I wished immediately that I’d said no.

  The house was beautiful. It looked like something out of People magazine, like a special on Beyonce’s house or something. I raked my fingers through my hair and made sure my necklace was straight. Marti looked excited. How? How could she be, in a place like this?

These kinds of houses belonged to people who never failed to make the life of a nerd absolutely miserable.

 

   When Marti asked if I wanted to go to the party I’d said yes of course. How could I say no when I could see that she wanted to go? Especially since she’d already given up a dozen of these invitations so that I wouldn’t be uncomfortable.

   Marti’s mom had died when Marti and I were in middle school, and her dad traveled a lot, so during the school year Marti lived with her Aunt Ellen just two doors down from me. But on holiday breaks, and summers Marti’s dad took vacation time and they lived at the beach house. She had a whole separate set of friends up here, and I knew she missed them a lot during the year. All week long people had been calling her, asking her to do stuff, and she had politely refused. But as sweet as she is, my best friend can’t always hide her disappointment. I knew she wanted to go to this party, so I said yes and there we stood on that huge front porch.

  The girl who was hosting tonight was one of Marti's closest friends named Madelene whom I had privately hated for years.

  It had always been “Marti and Meg”, our whole lives. Then after Auntie Grace died, and Marti started spending more time at the new beach house, Madelene came along and “Marti and Madelene” became a thing. Marti’s birthday is five days after mine and we used to make a big deal about it. Of course Madelene’s birthday is only three days before Marti’s.

They both swim.

They were both ballerinas.

They both love purple.

Madelene’s always posting on Marti’s facebook, saying things like “Heyyyyyy best fraaand!”

   I mean seriously, how hard is it to spell “friend”?

 

Marti rang the bell, her eyes glowing and her soft face pink with party-flush. I rubbed my palms together, a nervous habit I’d developed years ago. I realized it made me seem even nerdier than I was, and so I stopped. I didn’t want my best friend to be embarrassed by me in front of all these rich kids.

* * *

  Marti was right. I never lived life to the fullest. I’d always been the audience to Marti’s expeditions. My inhaler and I would sit on the sidelines while she climbed to the highest limb of a tree or took flying lessons or sang a solo in the school play. I didn’t really mind, mostly because Marti didn’t think of me as her shadow. Oh sure, she’d tease me and prod me to be more brave. But somehow when Marti teased, I could always tell that she didn’t do it to make fun of me; she did it because she wanted me with her---because I was her best friend. Marti was never conscious that she was the one that people noticed. She always called me “Professor” and never missed the chance to brag about my 800 on the SAT or whine to me to help her with her algebra two. The time I won first place in a poetry contest against five hundred other students, Marti must have told the whole school. And that day in third grade when she finally convinced me to ride the big Ferris Wheel at the State Fair and I chickened out at the last minute, Marti didn’t say anything but, “That’s ok. You can always try it next year. It is kind of scary after all.” Then she feigned a shiver and walked right by the roller coaster she’d been looking forward to all year. Instead we went and got spun sugar and looked at the rabbits.

  Marti was the best friend I had. No high school party was awkward once she got there. She could talk. And talk. And talk. But she knew how to listen too, and some nights we would stay up until faint sunlight could be seen in the east, pouring out secret thoughts and dreams.

  She was the only one I told my numerous ideas for novels. I had hundreds, but she always listened, with fascinated eyes, no matter how obscure the plot, or cliché the characters.

 

  The only things I wished Marti wouldn’t do were the things she loved doing best: daring things.

 

I worried about her. I was afraid that someday she would go just a little too far out onto the edge of a cliff, and then I’d lose her.

Learning to Live * * *

“Hey ducky, where you paddling off to now?” Marti giggled, her golden laugh echoing through my eardrums as I thrashed over to the docks. Panting, I struggled clumsily up onto the wooden planks, water streaming loudly off of me and all my floatation gimmicks. Marti glided easily through the water and pulled herself gracefully up onto the dock.

 

  “You ok?” She twisted her fingers through long, dark hair wringing out the salty water. She was Venus from the sea, her every movement the emblem of agility. I flopped on my back, kicking off my “duck feet”.

 “Sure, what could be wrong? I just about drowned out there.” I wrinkled my nose. Marti sighed and sat down next to me, her long legs hanging over the edge of the dock.

 

  “Meg, you never take any risks. I mean come on. You took swim lessons for two years and you still won’t take off those ridiculous floaties! Do you really need them?”

 

I tugged at the puffy yellow things on my arms, and readjusted my flippers.

 “I guess not, but I don’t like the idea of it just being me out there. In a pool there’s people everywhere and a lifeguard and everything. Here it’s just you and all the sharks.”

 

  Marti laughed again, and helped me up. “Megan, there aren’t any sharks around, I promise. And I would never let anything happen to you. Plus, my dad’s inside about a hundred feet away and there’s always boats going by.” I bit my lip, unconvinced.  “Just try it.” She smiled encouragingly, those deep sea blue eyes gleaming bright and kind.  “You’ll never make it out to the island in all those, and besides,” She tilted her head like a puppy. “Swimming isn’t the same with them on. You can’t feel free.” She turned to face the clear blue water, her eyes closed. She looked liked Lady Liberty, so wild and independent. I gave in.

  “Oh ok. I’ll be in, in a minute.”

Past Me

 

Some days the past just catches up too fast

And I wonder where myself has gone

As the years fly

I forget the paths that brought me

And then the day comes when I suddenly remember

And I see

And I wonder where myself has gone

Wishing I could stay the same forever

Am I still that girl from the photographs by the river?

Somewhere deep down she’s hiding

But too far for me to reach

Too far to remember

SNOW DAY... JK

Well here I am sitting in the computer lab all by myself, blasting my eardrums with way-too-loud music and writing on my blog. The school is weird when nobody's here. Just chillin' all alone in a creepy deserted school can be kind of odd. So I'm playing my music and resisting the urge to start serenading the world. The teachers might think it a little strange. Ahh the perks of being a teacher's kid.

YOU GET TO COME TO SCHOOL WHEN NO ONE ELSE HAS TO! :D

You should try it sometime. It's a blast.

It's kind of an ASB thing too. I've been here at the school in the pitch black trying not to get locked out of buildings while carrying piles of dance decorations all over campus. As a matter of fact, now that I think about it, I think I spend more time here than I do at my house.

Oh well. I don't really mind. It's my home away from home.

HOPE EVERYBODY ELSE IS ENJOYING THEIR SLEEP.

Torn

 

I’m happy

I’m sad

I’m blessed

I’m alone

I’m surrounded

I’m afraid

I’m trusting God

I’m struggling

I’m laughing

I’m in love

I’m dizzy

 

I’m torn….

She died.

It hurt.

But she loved me.

 

He never noticed.

And that hurt.

But I learned to let go of the dream that he’d love me.

 

She left.

And that hurt more.

Because she used to love me.

 

He seemed to disappear.

And it hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt.

But He came.

Because He loves me.

He’ll always love me.

And He’ll always stay.

I was wrong.

He never left.

And His love is all I need.