In the Middle of Nowhere (Willow's Journey #1) by Julie Ann Knudsen
The Saturday after my surprise party, my mom and I planned to take the ferry over to the mainland to go shopping for the day. I wanted to browse around and try on some new clothes. I had received a lot of gift cards as birthday presents from my friends to some of the hippest stores in Portland.
Originally Brian and my brother were going to come along, too, but I told my mom I wanted it to be just us girls. Eventually she agreed and, instead, Brian stayed back at our house and watched my brother. This meant that Brian would, most likely, be watching the back of James’s head as he sat anchored in front of the television.
I told my mom that I thought James was addicted to his games, and my mom just shrugged it off. She must have realized this, too, deep down, but for my mom, it was all about convenience. Besides me, James’s gaming obsession became a safe, substitute babysitter to him.
On the boat ride over, I tried to stay as warm as possible. My mom sat and read one of her many books she downloaded on her new e-reader, a Christmas present from Brian.
I studied my mother as she sat and read. Her face would become very expressive depending on what she was reading, a frown, a smile or a grimace. Sometimes she would even chuckle out loud, drawing the attention of the other passengers. She kept on reading, though, completely engrossed in the words before her and oblivious to those around her.
Watching my mother’s love for reading, I thought back to the story about how I got my name. When I was little, my father would tell it to me over and over again as part of my nighttime routine. It was my favorite bedtime story.
My dad would make himself all comfortable and prop himself up at the foot of my bed. He would retell the story of how before he and my mom had kids, and at their first small, but lovely house, my father had planted a very special tree in the middle of their backyard. He had hoped that this tree would grow wide and tall enough so that my mother could sit under it and take refuge from the burning sun as she read and reread one of her many treasured books.
He took very special care of this very special tree by watering, fertilizing and pruning it whenever he was supposed to. The tree did grow far and wide and my mother relished the cool breeze that awaited her every time she sat underneath it.
It was under this very same tree that my mother told my father she was expecting their baby, the same tree where her belly grew bigger and bigger as each month crept by. All the while this special tree continued to grow and shelter my mother and the unborn child inside her.
It was no surprise then that when my mother delivered a healthy baby girl, they both knew, instinctively, that they would call me Willow.
My mother and father hated leaving their special Willow tree behind when they decided to sell our home after James was born because the house had become too small. My father snipped off a piece of the branch in order to make it into a sapling hoping that it, too, could grow and thrive in our new backyard.
Unfortunately the tree never took root nor grew as he had planned. My mother didn’t have as much time to read anyway with a young daughter and a new baby. Regardless, my father had promised her that someday he’d plant her another special tree, just like her favorite Willow from years before. But, like most young fathers, life got too busy and he never got around to it.
As I laid my head back and closed my eyes, I remembered the story of my name. Willow, Willow tree, a special tree, I thought. I must have dozed off because before I knew it, my mother was gently shaking my shoulder to wake me.
“Willow, dear, wake up. We’re here.”
• • •
All bundled up, my mom and I walked around the streets of Portland. Even though the temperature never reached above thirty-four degrees, it felt much warmer as the sun shone brightly during what would normally be a gray and gloomy winter day.
We went to most of the stores where I had gift cards and I ended up buying some really cute outfits. My mother and I even stopped and grabbed a bite to eat at an artsy café where I recognized students from school working behind the lunch counter. I had thought about getting a job now that I was sixteen and shared this with my mom.
“Mom, I was thinking about filling out applications on the island so I can earn some spending money.”
“As long as your grades don’t suffer, Willow.” She took a dainty bite of her turkey croissant.
I sipped my raspberry iced tea as I contemplated the right words to say. “The only problem is that there aren’t many places for teenagers to work over on Pike’s. I was thinking it might be easier to get a job over here in Portland.”
My mother stopped chewing and stared at me. “Don’t even think about it. It’s far too dangerous for you to be taking the ferry back and forth by yourself, especially at nighttime.”
“But—“
“No buts, Willow!”
I rolled my eyes and should have known better than to ask. I thought my mom would welcome the fact that I wanted to earn some of my own money so I didn’t have to ask her for any. She probably just wanted to keep me stuck home so I would always be available to babysit my annoying brother.
The clanking of dishes, glasses and silverware were the only sounds I heard in that busy café because my mother and I chose to finish our lunch in complete silence.
• • •
After hours of shopping and walking around the city, I was actually exhausted. It was after five o’clock and we were going to catch the next ferry back to Pike’s, but my mom wanted to stop in a pharmacy to buy some antacid first.
I held the pharmacy door as she entered.
“Poor Mr. Rob—I mean Brian has been experiencing some severe stomach problems lately,” she said as I walked beside her. “I promised I’d pick up some medicine for him.”
I shuddered inside. Did I really need to know the trouble going on inside my mom’s boyfriend’s digestive system? I didn’t want to hear any more gory details so I told my mom I’d wait for her over by the magazine rack.
I was flipping through a fashion magazine when a tall, dark movement caught my eye. I looked toward the pharmacy counter and saw a boy dressed in a black hooded sweatshirt and black jeans pay the pharmacist for his purchase. He collected his change and quickly headed toward the exit. From behind, I could have sworn it was Michael.
Without thinking, I ran across the store toward the disappearing boy. I pushed open the glass door and looked around. The street was bustling with activity and I couldn’t find any trace of him. I searched all around, but could barely see above the heads of the others on the sidewalk.
I gave up and went back inside the store. As soon as I entered, a man approached me and took me by the elbow.
“Come with me please, young lady.”
He identified himself as an undercover police officer and was told by a worker that I had run out of the store without paying for a magazine, a magazine that I still clutched firmly in my hand.
“No. You don’t understand! I was just looking at it and only ran out of the store because I thought I saw somebody I knew. I planned on putting it back.”
“Well, maybe you’ll follow through with your plans better next time.”
The man tried to bring me toward the back of the store, but I yelled. “Stop! Please! Let me get my mother!”
We were making a scene and started to cause a commotion. Other customers stared at us and I was really starting to get scared. I didn’t want to go anywhere with this guy. Why would I have stolen a stupid magazine of all things? He wouldn’t listen to me and kept dragging me toward the back. Just then my mother spotted me and ran over to the two of us.
“What is going on here, Willow!?” she demanded.
I started to cry and tried tell my mom what had happened. As I stammered my defense, the whole room seemed to get unusually hot. I suddenly felt light-headed and dizzy and desperately wanted to sit down. I tried to tell them this, but I couldn’t get the words out. All of a sudden everything around me became blurry and my mother’s stunned and confused face was the last thing
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN